Taking Stock

I am not feeling too good about myself. Mostly, I have not worked a real job since I left Iraq in May 2010. I have drilled through the money I had set aside. Bought the farm from my brother and now find myself without a lot of options regarding fiscal flexibility.

That part is actually pretty good since being without debt in today’s economic environment is a positive thing. I am working on a job with a not-for-profit group, the Alabama Sustainable Agriculture Network (ASAN). I joined the group when I relocated back here. My good friends Jim and Judy are involved with ASAN. It did not take very long to figure out that the group needs an executive director. So, I put myself forward as a candidate. I recognize that if I am going to be paid by ASAN, I will have to figure out how to do it.

Farm-wise, the place is doing fine. I have been busy the last couple of days putting up (as in canning and freezing) peppers and tomatoes and pears. Previously, I put beans and peas in the freezer. The sweet potatoes are about to be harvested. The fall garden is planted and most of it has emerged thanks to 1.7 inches of rain this week – collards, rutabaga, beets, cabbage, spinach, sweet peas and garlic. I am also preparing the newly renovated greenhouse for a planting of herbs and tomatoes. I am thinking of plowing the melon, flower and corn patches now, applying compost and letting it rest over the winter in anticipation of spring planting. New chickens are on-order and will arrive on 26 September – 25 Buff Orpingtons. After cleaning out the houses, the current brood of hens went on a laying frenzy, producing about eight to ten eggs daily. I am one person. I cannot eat that many eggs so I am giving them away, a dozen at a time. As I write this, there are five dozen eggs in my refrigerator. The lake is about four feet low, evidence of the long and sustained drought that has impacted east Alabama. We’ve had about 25 inches of rain this year – our normal is in excess of 50 inches. I also had the great pleasure to contribute my meager resources to the whimpering American economy. I had to buy a new water well pump. After a mere thirty years, the pump when tits-up. I was so pissed that I vowed not to replace it. After three days of no shower, a sink full of dishes, and nasty hands, I relented. Tinker came down and helped me install the new machine. It works fine. I am also on a decluttering jones in the house. What cannot be moved to some other location is donated to the Salvation Army. Amazing how nice the house looks when you can actually see the walls and floor. I am picking colors out for a painting party. Everybody is invited.

Truth is, this is as good a life style as any son of bitch could ever hope to live. And, that is the problem I am having. This is so damn good that it cannot be moral or legitimate or genuine. I get up when I wake up. I go to bed when I am tired. I linger over strong coffee in the morning. I take the dogs for swims everyday in the steadily shrinking lake. Sometimes I have a glass (or two) of wine with lunch. I set my own agenda and work until I don’t want to anymore. There have to be huge problems with all this. There is a strong possibility that I will not make lots of (perhaps, any) money doing this but it is the most rewarding “job” I have ever had. Still, I don’t feel good about myself. I am a product of conditioning that required an income, a family and debts. As much as I loved the Blessed Rebecca, I am a bit pissed that she made me believe in all that shit. Truth is, I have never really cared much for money (to qualify, I love to spend but otherwise, so what?). As far as my family, I am divorced. That should tell you something. My son lives in Europe and I have seen him once in six years and I rarely hear from him. My daughter is on the west coast and never answers her phone. And, as far as debt, I live without it, praise be to God. To owe is to not sleep until that debt is satisfied. Debt is the original four-letter word.

I was once a City Manager. I was once a Professor. I was once a Diplomat. Once I mattered.

Missed Events

My friend, Kev, was married last weekend. I did not attend even though I was invited. Part of the reason I stayed home was that he is at Yale. For a boy from Alabama, Yale is purely intimidating. Mark my words, Kev will be Secretary of State one of these days. I hope. Brilliant kid with wonderful insights. The other part of the reason is that WitchWoman and I are working out the after-shocks of the tornado in Joplin. To add to the confusion, her mother broke her hip and is now in a nursing home. WitchWoman did have an offer accepted on a house in Kansas City. She closes on it in November. How that works into our relationship, I am unsure. She is naturally drawn to her kids. And, now, there is another grandchild on the way. Makes perfect sense that she would want to be near them. It is a long way from Kansas City to Welch.

As for me, I plan to stay here in Alabama, even though I may be losing my ass in doing so. I have been unable to land any sort of job. I even offered a non-profit to work for free. They will get back to me. I guess the economy is as bad as I hear on radio or else I have a greatly inflated self-image.

Sweet potatoes are coming out of the ground next week. Stuff coming out of the ground includes collards, rutabagas, beets, peas and spinach. The cabbage plants are doing well under the protective shield of wire baskets to keep the deer from eating the tender sprouts. Tomorrow, I will spend most of the day making pear preserves.

Today I completed the roof from the new greenhouse. By this time next week, I should have a few items sprouting. The objective is, of course, to produce the perfect tomato.

Speaking of which, I have the best recipe for tomato sauce I have ever tasted. It is so easy. In a large pot, sweat a finely chopped onion, a green pepper and three or four garlic cloves in olive oil. Add a quart of canned from-the-garden tomatoes (or a big-ass can of from-the-store diced tomatoes), a fat tablespoon of tomato paste, a palm full of dried basil, a bay leaf, salt and pepper, a slug of red wine. Simmer for about an hour or so. Delicious. I use it for spaghetti and lasagna.

I wish I had gone to Kev's wedding if for no other reason than to give him this great recipe. But, I didn't. Life got in the way.