tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62929152017679403262024-03-18T04:47:35.344-05:00Mom's ScribblesVickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.comBlogger1384125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-36646019644303649832024-03-03T12:48:00.002-06:002024-03-03T14:10:20.173-06:00The Old Ways<p> I have been a bit under the weather the last week or so. Nothing serious. It is "flu season," after all and this probably was just a mild case of the garden variety flu. I expect that before long, the flu will suddenly become another horrible virus requiring several doses of whatever so called vaccine our government deems necessary, along with keeping folks indoors, wearing face diapers and all of the silly rules presented by those in power last time.</p><p>Unless we have learned anything at all from that debacle.</p><p>Since I haven't felt much like doing anything and because I have never been one to just sit and stare at the walls, I have been using the down time to work on my family tree. While wading through my gene pool, it occured to me that if we pay attention, we have a lot to learn from those who have gone before.</p><p>My grandparents were Preppers. They just didn't know it.</p><p>One of my grandfathers kept a roof over the heads of his family of six kids and food on the table during the Great Depression by finding and keeping a job that was necessary in his area. He was for many years a depot agent for the railroad in the small northern Minnesota town where they lived. In addition, his family kept a huge garden to help feed them.</p><p>My other grandparents raised a family of nine children on a small farm in the same area of Minnesota. My Dad, the youngest kid, learned to love gardening while helping his mother raise food to feed their family. They raised a litter of hogs every year, milked a few cows and raised chickens. They were hunters who kept venison on the table along with the home raised pork and chicken. Grandma canned as much food as possible, including the wild blueberries and raspberries that grew in that area. </p><p>These activities were not anything special. They were a way of life.</p><p>Unlike so many today, my ancestors didn't head for the Doctor's office or the Emergency Room of the hospital when they had a headache or a case of the sniffles. When growing up, in my house an upset tummy was treated with Pepto Bismol and a bottle of 7-Up. The common cold was dealt with using Vicks VapoRub. And we all survived!</p><p>There is a blog that is chock full of all things preparedness. I highly recommend it for references to so many aspects of preparing. Jennifer has done much of the research so we don't have to. Here is the link and her blog can be accessed using my sidebar.</p><p><a href="https://prepschooldaily.blogspot.com/">Prep School Daily</a></p><p>Things aren't looking all that great these days. I barely recognize the country I grew up in. And it is more and more apparent that we as citizens are on our own. Remembering how our ancestors lived and researching all aspects of being prepared for whatever cliff the elites decide to push us off is necessary for our survival.</p><p>As a friend of this blog is fond of saying:</p><p>"Larder full, powder dry and Bible open."</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-21579051223272434092024-02-23T20:01:00.000-06:002024-02-23T20:01:57.818-06:00Attention Prayer Warriors...<p> A friend of ours, B. W. Bandy, who runs the blog "Everybody Has To Be Somewhere," is in the hospital following a bad car accident. He has given us much pleasure with the photos of rural Canada that he posts. Perhaps we could return the favor with our wishes and prayers for his recovery. Details are in his post today. </p><p><a href="https://everybodyhastobesomewhere.blogspot.com/">The view from here (everybodyhastobesomewhere.blogspot.com)</a></p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-55229982428995614332024-02-20T13:42:00.000-06:002024-02-20T13:42:08.021-06:00Time Flies By<p> Anyone else feeling like time is running out for us?</p><p>I look around and see so much that would have been condemned by my parents and the preachers who preached in small churches across our nation. In my opinion, Mega Church preachers fall in the same category as politicians. </p><p>I'm not going to dwell on the horror that is now my homeland. You all know what is happening. Contrary to the belief of those in charge, we the people are not - for the most part - stupid. Stupid is when we believe everything we are told by our "betters."</p><p>Those in charge do not give a rat's ass about any of us. They care about getting reelected so they can continue to line their pockets with their ill-gotten gains. </p><p>I find that the bad news has become overwhelming. I don't even try to keep up with it all anymore. I scan headlines so I am aware if the hoards are headed into my neighborhood. I can do absolutely nothing about the rest.</p><p>What I can do is make sure my family is taken care of when the inevitable happens. And that is how I spend my time. And that's where I have been.</p><p>Grocery prices are still heading skyward. But I am still buying what I need to make sure my storage area is as full as possible, knowing that food will cost more next month than it does now.</p><p>Quarts of beef stew base (veggies and seasonings to heat, thicken and add canned beef cubes to for a quick meal), more chicken and the leftover stew veggies were all canned last week. This week my grocery order includes frozen hash browns, broccoli and green beans to dehydrate. In between the food processing sessions, I have been putting together and packaging dry soup mixes, flavored rice mixes and other dry mixes. They are handy to just dump into a crock pot for an easy meal.</p><p>I have been spending evenings either crocheting an afghan or putting together quilt tops. This winter has been unusually warm for Minnesota. Today it is 43 degrees here in the Minneapolis area. Mid-February normally finds us shivering in sub-zero, snow blowing, frozen slippery roads weather. Still important to finish the quilts. This heat wave could turn icy in a flash.</p><p>No election will save us. No politician cares what happens to us. Only a miracle can change things back to the place they should be.</p><p>Our only Savior is Jesus. If we forget that part, we really are doomed.</p><p><br /></p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-1204430364769452722024-02-10T14:51:00.000-06:002024-02-10T14:51:23.145-06:00One of the Good Ones has Passed<p> I was today informed by one of my readers that one of my favorite bloggers has gone on to his Heavenly Reward. Gorge Smythe of "Gorge's Grouse" fame has passed.</p><p>I have followed Gorges for a number of years, commenting on his blog and he, commenting on mine, with an occasional email thrown in for good measure.</p><p>He described himself as an opinionated curmedgeon. He was. And he also had a sense of humor second to none. His antics often brought not only a smile to my face, but laughter as well.</p><p>I never knew what his dog's real name was, for he always referred to her as "The Mighty Dachshund." But within his writings was the love he felt for the long bodied, short legged pooch.</p><p>Gorges shared his family with us, as well as the beauty of his home state of West Virginia. Through his porch sitting posts, he brought his world to us. And I am forever grateful to him for that.</p><p>I will miss him.</p><p> </p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-74521398602429101632024-02-01T23:14:00.000-06:002024-02-01T23:14:12.160-06:00Pay Attention<p> Patara at "Appalacia's Homestead With Patara" posted a video today. She says exactly what many of us have been thinking. I urge you to watch this video. And then, if you aren't already, Get Busy!</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsn2gNk1yYU">🦇 You Live in Gotham Now 🦇 - YouTube</a></p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-13132935632462704582024-01-30T00:56:00.000-06:002024-01-30T00:56:36.340-06:00Behind the Scenes<p> Earlier this evening I watched a video from "Appalachia's Homestead with Patara." Here is the link:</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1ZXdnFHzLs&t=32s">Texas Trucker Convoy & "Patriots" Bullying other Patriots? (youtube.com)</a></p><p>Patara makes a good point. Why are there efforts NOW to slow down the invasion crossing our southern border? Why not 1 - 2 - 3 years ago? The border crossings were just as illegal back then as now. So why wait so long before taking a stand?</p><p>I'm not bashing Texas. I am grateful that someone is at least doing something to help alleviate the situation. But what I wonder is - while all eyes are on Texas and while eyes are on the cross country Trucker's Convoy taking place - what are politicians trying to sneak past us? You know they are. Why else would they be working on a new law when there are already laws on the books regulating immigration. </p><p>Me...I don't trust a single politician any further than I can toss them. </p><p>I'm thinking that if we haven't been spending time in prayer, perhaps now is the time. This whole situation does not bode well for the average citizen. The only help we are going to get will come from above.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-20593223698749064062024-01-28T12:12:00.005-06:002024-01-28T16:03:34.149-06:00Question?<p> Yesterday I saw a news article about Congress working on a bill to fix the problem of illegals crossing our border.</p><p>If memory serves, don't we already have laws concerning immigration? And wouldn't it be a simple matter to enforce those existing laws rather than trying to come up with new laws?</p><p>Politics at its finest! Why bother to follow our laws when politicians can royally screw things up instead! I am so done with the lot of them.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-88639895366301310322024-01-21T01:54:00.001-06:002024-01-21T01:54:33.788-06:00Memories<p> I got a call from my son a few days ago. Actually, it was a FaceTime call. He showed me what he was cooking for supper and he showed me a cyst on their dog's tail that will be removed soon and he showed me his lovely wife so I could wave and say 'Hello.'</p><p>But mostly the call was to let me know that he would be stopping by to see me Friday morning.</p><p>His oldest daughter had given her Mom and Dad each a book. The books are filled with questions about their early lives. And then my Granddaughter decided that she knows about her ancestors, but knows very little about her Grandma's early life. So my son brought me one of the books to fill out. I hope my memory still works. It should. I couldn't tell you what I had for supper two nights ago, but I pretty much remember the 50's and 60's!!</p><p>This book is not something to be filled out in an evening. This will take time. It asks questions beginning with my birth, through childhood an on to young adulthood. I actually think this is a great way to preserve family memories. The website for the book is:</p><p>www.questionsaboutme.com</p><p>There are a couple of questions In the book I'm not sure I can or will answer due to the answers being very personal. But a lot of the questions trigger memories. One is asking which parent as a toddler I liked spending the most time with. That reminded me of my Dad telling me that I liked to "help" when he was working on his car. While he was working under the hood, I was busy at the other end bashing the tail light with a rock. :)</p><p>I'm glad that my Granddaughter wants to know more about her Grandma. I wish I knew more about my parents and grandparents early lives. It is a good thing to keep family memories and traditions. So many seem to be lost just now. Nothing is as important as family and faith.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-71411020572818407212024-01-16T15:39:00.002-06:002024-01-16T16:44:47.224-06:00From The Past<p> I was digging around in my computer files, unsuccessfully trying to organize old pictures and genealogy documents, when I stumbled upon this old blog post. Since I have had a number of 2 AM sleepless nights lately and because I still have odd thoughts skipping about in my brain at that time, I thought perhaps my kids and some of the rest of you might find the following either interesting or amusing. Take your pick. :)</p><p>2 AM Musings</p><p>One should never fall asleep around suppertime and wake up after 9 PM. It really wrecks going to bed at a decent hour.</p><p>And to make it worse, strange thoughts float around in one's head at 2 AM. Well, to be perfectly honest, strange thoughts aren't really all that unusual for me, but I digress.</p><p>I was wondering, at 2 AM, why my parent's generation was so terribly worried about what people would think. Like the time when my Mother's doctor prescribed a shot of brandy at night to help her sleep. Mother made Dad get the brandy from the druggist rather than the liquor store, even though he paid twice the price at the drug store for brandy in a prescription bottle, because she was afraid of what people would say if they saw him coming out of the liquor store.</p><p>As a kid, I went through a stage where I wore mostly jeans and my Dad's old flannel shirts. I lived in the country. I played in the woods. I grubbed around in the garden. I did yard work. I sat up in apple trees and read books. I liked jeans and old comfy flannel shirts. But Mother was always after me to change clothes because what would people say if we got company and they saw me dressed like that.</p><p>My 4-H softball team practiced on Sunday afternoons. I loved playing softball. I was a pretty fair shortstop. But Mother was worried about what people would say if they knew that I was playing ball on Sunday, which was a day of rest.</p><p>I always wondered who "They" were. Who were these people who were just waiting for my family to do something out of the ordinary so they could say whatever it was that they were going to say. I probably, in retrospect, shouldn't have posed this question to Mom, for, as I recall, it got me a week of living in my bedroom and a month of Wednesday night Prayer Meetings at the church, no doubt to pray for the state of my rebellious soul. I think that having a daughter who was, at that time, a bit of a free spirit, must have been a trial for her.</p><p>Odd, the things one remembers at 2 AM.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-47680965846750674022024-01-13T02:03:00.000-06:002024-01-13T02:03:27.065-06:00AWOL<p> Yes, I know it has been a while since my last post. I sorta got busy. No excuse. Just fact.</p><p>I began canning again this week. I was running low on chicken canned in half pint jars, so 16 of them were processed this afternoon. Tomorrow - 4 lbs. of carrots. After that - 18 lbs. of hamburger.</p><p>I have several unfinished projects - mostly quilts - that need to be finished. Should have been done by now. Especially since snow and then below zero temps are on the way for Minnesota.</p><p>I have discovered there are a vast number of people who are clueless about the state of affairs here in the USA. Some doctors are among those. Had a phone appointment with mine last week. It has been my experience over the years that at nearly every appointment, there are suggestions for changes in my diet. Apparently, Cheetos and Oreo cookies are not on the favored list. This time fresh fruits and vegetables along with lean meats were suggested. Also I was to eliminate pasta and bread.</p><p>He got sort of grumpy when I reminded him of the price of groceries and suggested that if he expected me to dine on fresh food, perhaps he would be willing to foot the bill. And because I had the good sense to stock up on flour and yeast, bread was one item I could afford to make.</p><p>Anybody else failing to recognize our country any more? I just don't get it. When exactly did much of the population become stupid? Why do so many think it is OK to chop off body parts and pretend that men are women and that women can become men. When did so many of the younger generation decide that socialism is a good thing. And why, in the name of all that is holy, did patriotism beome a bad thing!</p><p>I don't know where all of this foolishness is leading, but my tendency is toward non-compliance. I am a grumpy old woman, after all! There is not one single person in any form of government who knows better than me how to live my life. But they continue to try. It is called control. Nope. Not buying into it.</p><p>I can't change much. But I can continue to prepare. Seems like now, more than ever, the importance of stacking it to the rafters is essential. So is prayer. Often.</p><p>Take good care, my friends. I think that cliff is dead ahead and close.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-74638184418603571942023-12-23T13:41:00.001-06:002023-12-23T13:41:54.759-06:00Merry Christmas<p> Wishing each and every one of you a very Merry Christmas.</p><p>As we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, I pray that all of us might find peace as well as joy in these troubled times.</p><p>I will be away until after the New Year. Stay safe and may God truly bless you all.</p><p>Vicki</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-45428902292980856742023-12-18T15:51:00.001-06:002023-12-18T15:51:03.024-06:00Blueberry Picking Time<p>Northern Minnesota has lots of wild blueberries. Some grow in wet areas called blueberry bogs and some grow in the pine forests.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGeCXpc-UFUw9vA3GyUmkdWA6lMnkuY2L2TqOudgWAn1bU_d9rUT6ZtugOTs-VgDKo4Burl90pr8ux7mhetVupRLwpqNW0FH-OjVH_0a74ql6l5KlMWft1yLPNyeKxn1iafFPRYfXEZgE_-ysOf381eEbylV0A-1kBkEvrYkU4-bjRpUpnDirhapoRAY/s736/blueberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="736" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGeCXpc-UFUw9vA3GyUmkdWA6lMnkuY2L2TqOudgWAn1bU_d9rUT6ZtugOTs-VgDKo4Burl90pr8ux7mhetVupRLwpqNW0FH-OjVH_0a74ql6l5KlMWft1yLPNyeKxn1iafFPRYfXEZgE_-ysOf381eEbylV0A-1kBkEvrYkU4-bjRpUpnDirhapoRAY/s320/blueberries.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Many years ago, when my kids and I lived in that part of the state, I spent hours in the middle of summer, out in the pine woods, picking blueberries. I was lucky enough to find an area that held a wealth of berries and that nobody else knew about. Blueberry picking areas were jealously guarded by those of us who wanted the berries.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My family ate some of the berries fresh. I canned blueberries in a simple syrup, made blueberry jam and froze the rest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My Dad's family picked blueberries, but used a different method than I did. Keeping in mind I had only four kids and there were nine of them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When the berries were ripe, my Grandpa and his sons would load a cast iron, wood burning stove onto a hay wagon. Added to that were crates of canning jars, large stock pots and a goodly amount of sugar and enough food for a couple of days. They hooked up their team of horses, everybody piled onto the wagon and off they would go to a blueberry bog several miles from their farm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everyone had their job to do. A couple of the boys gathered dry wood to burn in the wood stove. The rest would head out with pails to fill with berries. Dad once showed me a homemade blueberry picker he used that made quick work of filling his pail.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSBoCepclTe5ibnyd4pAWT-0OZ0DgN9QBN3CkMiaW47eImkqeak7A50eww2SjbJhKGCKx2L0uH0x2hEhZzW785EtO7BDeuuqlW97_A7Y_nhu7ak9V31JoDo9JBPjUi4qbZBafcMkeFI4y1fD33zKEledWI3d9vJ3e-swxJpr-clATa3vEtFDCAz6HBdk/s1140/blueberry%20picker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1140" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSBoCepclTe5ibnyd4pAWT-0OZ0DgN9QBN3CkMiaW47eImkqeak7A50eww2SjbJhKGCKx2L0uH0x2hEhZzW785EtO7BDeuuqlW97_A7Y_nhu7ak9V31JoDo9JBPjUi4qbZBafcMkeFI4y1fD33zKEledWI3d9vJ3e-swxJpr-clATa3vEtFDCAz6HBdk/s320/blueberry%20picker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Grandma and a couple of the girls were in charge of canning the blueberries. They cleaned the sticks and leaves out and washed the berries. The jars were filled and the berries covered with a light sugar syrup and water bath canned. They didn't go back home until all the jars were filled and canned.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you have never eaten wild blueberries, you are missing a treat. Store bought blueberries are tasteless by comparison. It was worth every minute of time and effort to pick blueberries.</div>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-18542198069222475882023-12-16T12:53:00.001-06:002023-12-16T12:53:14.787-06:00Our Frugal Ancestors<p>I am not a totally frugal person. I like my conveniences, little luxuries and the occasional cheeseburger that someone else cooks. But what if those things were no longer available and we had to live without, like my Dad's family back near the turn of the century.</p><p>When you can't just run to the corner store or the supermarket for groceries, you figure out how to get what you need in other ways. My ancestors did get some items they couldn't produce themselves, but those items were usually obtained through barter. </p><p>For instance, the family had a few milk cows. After each milking, fresh milk was run through the cream separator that stood in the lean-to by the back door of the house.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfUnPVT7qIB-pOHfaymDUUtCRg1wrEQMKLO0OhFr92iBg01gp5CLObLQSENRHp6y4h4jVOMgJIeUi592y14KhFfS523PmrayQVtiOs_WLlCD228Z7ngMZ8OH1FaKpNrVfTSDBae0DxFYSx8KIW2FOmJC2EPUNM69xmBwXDn3aMLSmJa3HsnmTqMWg9Nw/s4032/separator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfUnPVT7qIB-pOHfaymDUUtCRg1wrEQMKLO0OhFr92iBg01gp5CLObLQSENRHp6y4h4jVOMgJIeUi592y14KhFfS523PmrayQVtiOs_WLlCD228Z7ngMZ8OH1FaKpNrVfTSDBae0DxFYSx8KIW2FOmJC2EPUNM69xmBwXDn3aMLSmJa3HsnmTqMWg9Nw/s320/separator.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My uncle Kenneth did the milking. He would carry pails of milk from the barn up to the house and pour milk into the large bowl on top. Then he would work the crank. I have no clue how it worked, but the cream flowed from one of the spouts and the milk - minus the cream, flowed from the other. Grandma made butter from most of the cream and that was used to trade for flour, salt, etc. The milk didn't last long with a family of nine kids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There was a bucket in the kitchen, set in an out of the way corner, that held food scraps. If Grandma shelled peas for supper, the shells went into the bucket. Scraps like onion skins or corn cobs went into the bucket. Cooking scraps went into the bucket. And when the bucket was nearly full, it was dumped into the pig trough. The pigs acted like they had just been served a fine, restaurant meal!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The family grew rutabagas. Some were for human consumption, but most were stored in the root cellar and cut into smaller pieces for an addition to the regular animal feed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My Dad was the youngest of the nine children. From maybe 9 or 10 years old, he had a tendency to get himself into a bit of trouble. Nothing serious. Just enough to annoy his parents. He told me about his mother's form of discipline when he acted up. She handed him a kitchen knife and pointed toward the root cellar, where he spent a considerable amount of time cutting up rutabagas. :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The family used every method at their disposal to save. They were cash poor, but rich in their love of one another. And in my opinion, that kind of rich is worth more than anything else.</div>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-48779992625015032052023-12-11T14:09:00.000-06:002023-12-11T14:09:35.539-06:00Harvesting Ice<p> Everywhere I look I see dire warnings about the possible collapse of our country. I'm never quite sure if there is truth in it or if it all is just fearmongering for clicks. Whatever the reasons, perhaps it might be a good thing to know how those who came before us managed without all of the modern conveniences we have today.</p><p>My paternal grandfather died before I was born. But with the help of my grandmother's sons, she stayed on the northern Minnesota farm until her death in 1955.</p><p>Grandma's house had electricity by the time I knew her. But there was no plumbing or running water. The bathroom was an outhouse several yards from the house and water was provided by a hand pump just outside the kitchen door. </p><p>Her kitchen boasted a very large cast iron wood burning stove used for cooking, baking and sometimes, heat. Grandma didn't have an electric refrigerator, but still used an icebox like this one.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFHDdFJQLyeuBPKSYoIwDlhWkQISNRBOMdsZnXm-3zuiDvNavXFLH2bWbhc8fwbh6vuywCSdWCIGsGoOjTKlgUU5LclK0oI6eQl-0fFArP719v1ddAJcrnaHLmn2ps2h4uWWfTGjXj2XjgGPfGu2JRGnjsk1t2dP5VjWntYGO-zsxRHVPpvBKLJfLDAw/s1100/icebox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="901" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFHDdFJQLyeuBPKSYoIwDlhWkQISNRBOMdsZnXm-3zuiDvNavXFLH2bWbhc8fwbh6vuywCSdWCIGsGoOjTKlgUU5LclK0oI6eQl-0fFArP719v1ddAJcrnaHLmn2ps2h4uWWfTGjXj2XjgGPfGu2JRGnjsk1t2dP5VjWntYGO-zsxRHVPpvBKLJfLDAw/s320/icebox.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The icebox needed blocks of ice to keep food cool. The method Grandma's sons used to get ice would not work in a warm climate but was perfect for northern Minnesota.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">About February, Grandma's sons would hook up their team of horses to a large hay wagon and off they would go to a nearby lake that was frozen over. Armed with axes and saws, they would cut large blocks of ice from the lake, load them onto the hay wagon and take them home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There was a root cellar dug into the side of a small hill near the house. A wooden door had been put into place to keep critters from helping themselves to the squash and pumpkins and rutabagas stored there. One side of the cellar was for the ice. The blocks were hauled down into the cellar and covered with straw. This way, the ice was insulated and stayed frozen all spring, summer and fall until it was time to harvest more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The icebox had a compartment to hold food and another to hold a block of ice. There was a container in the bottom to catch the water as the ice melted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I suppose the family could have invested in an electric refrigerator, but like most folks of that era, they were a frugal bunch. Raising a family of nine children on a farm that had mostly sandy soil did not provide great wealth. But they managed to raise all nine kids and they did a good job of it. Life was not easy, but I don't remember anyone complaining.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I sometimes think today's young ones consider it tragic if a Starbucks closes. They could stand to learn from those who coped with hardship on a regular basis. Not only coped but thrived.</div>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-52118703152512128872023-12-07T14:58:00.000-06:002023-12-07T14:58:54.341-06:00Skating in Duluth Harbor<p>Once in a while I will enjoy the sight of a huge ship entering the Duluth, Minnesota harbor from Lake Superior, via the Harbor Canal. There are cameras on 24/7. It is sort of relaxing to watch the long ships entering or leaving the harbor. Here is the link for the canal camera. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9k_sg8rhsgk">Duluth Canal Cam - YouTube</a></p><p>Some folks enjoy the lonesome sound of distant train whistles. I like the sound of the ship horns blowing a salute to the Lift Bridge at the entrance to the harbor. The Lift Bridge raises the entire roadway high enough for the ships to pass underneath. The bridge is equipped with a horn that blows an answering salute.</p><p>Watching the ship enter the harbor today served to remind me of a story involving my Grandfather, ice skates and the Duluth Harbor.</p><p>My Grandfather was born in Chenango County of New York in 1883. His family moved to Minnesota before the turn of the century. They stayed for a time with relatives in Duluth before moving to a farm.</p><p>Minnesota winters can be cold. Even a lake as large as Lake Superior can freeze, at least along the shoreline. </p><p>When I was reading some letters written between my Grandfather and his siblings, I found one where he talks about ice skating on the Duluth Harbor as a child. What caught my attention was his description of skating around the sailing ships that were frozen in the ice along the docks.</p><p>What a fascinating time that must have been. Every few years, Duluth hosts a gathering of 'tall ships' that serve to give us a taste of what life was like back then.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYhb62tL0RtkqDo2QRA6FXk2VjXbFHSq1WjqxXuXzNMzzwdiIBKmVpVW6r4mbH8SwwAmz5b5zEjTVyvMFn0WQDcNBE-gnRNKUBLJalwUFhL0Ik4yLuvHR2oomleh3Z-w5qN9FLKGkxiBbKkkN64ERpEjAhAK2KYhzsqcyP9JKd-RgsARbIRsgEmFOZHQ/s1024/Brig-Niagara-in-Duluth-Harbor-Tall-Ships-Festival-Duluth-1024x682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYhb62tL0RtkqDo2QRA6FXk2VjXbFHSq1WjqxXuXzNMzzwdiIBKmVpVW6r4mbH8SwwAmz5b5zEjTVyvMFn0WQDcNBE-gnRNKUBLJalwUFhL0Ik4yLuvHR2oomleh3Z-w5qN9FLKGkxiBbKkkN64ERpEjAhAK2KYhzsqcyP9JKd-RgsARbIRsgEmFOZHQ/s320/Brig-Niagara-in-Duluth-Harbor-Tall-Ships-Festival-Duluth-1024x682.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> According to the accounts of life back then, written by some of my ancestors, life wasn't easy. But neither was it terribly complicated. <div><br /></div><div>Men were men. Women were women. They knew the difference.<br /><p><br /></p></div>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-33498653315348927032023-12-03T01:04:00.000-06:002023-12-03T01:04:23.155-06:00Best Laid Plans<p> You know how it is. We make plans. God laughs. And sometimes I think He might send that Murphy character just to keep us humble. :)</p><p>Thursday of this week was my grocery delivery day. It has become a normal thing that the weekly sale ads contain very little that I am willing to spend money on. But this week I lucked out.</p><p>I haven't seen any chicken at a reasonable price in ages. Yet there it was. Family packs of chicken drumsticks and thighs for 99 cents per pound. Average weight per pack/ 6 - 7 lbs. There was a limit of four each. I got 8 packs of chicken.</p><p>And here is where the plan comes in. I planned to package the drumsticks in meal sized amounts for myself and toss them into the freezer. I did. I planned to stuff the thighs into wide mouth pint jars and can them. That's when Old Murphy reared his ugly head. Sale chicken pieces are often odd sizes and that was true with the thighs. Wasn't working very well. </p><p>So on to Plan B. Tossed half the thighs into my largest stock pot, covered them with water and cooked them until tender. Did it again with the other two trays. Was planning to take the meat from the bones and can it that way.</p><p>Murphy wasn't quite done with me. I am old. I am arthritic. I have lots of good days and a few not so stellar days. The next morning, I found out quickly that I would not be wrestling a large pressure canner. Luckily, I still had some freezer space, so into the freezer went several pounds of cooked chicken thighs.</p><p>The point to all of this is that things don't always work out the way we would like. In my case, chicken is still chicken, and it was at a good price. Doesn't matter if it is canned or frozen. It is food. And no matter how it is preserved, it is there when needed.</p><p>There seems to be silver linings in the clouds if we look for them. My silver lining in the chicken freezing debacle was that instead of taking the time to do some canning, I was able to use the time to add some information to my genealogy program. I found that the website "Find A Grave" has a considerable amount of information on those ancestors I am looking up. I not only find where they are buried, but often I find links to other family members.</p><p>My family thinks I am obsessed with my family tree - all branches. And I guess I am. I know most of my family has little interest, but my hope is that maybe someday they will want to know about those who went before.</p><p>Continuing to prepare is important. Especially now when a good share of the world seems to be going bat guano crazy. I also believe it is good to know where we come from. Don't have to be as deep into genealogy as I am, but if we don't learn from history, we will just repeat it - mostly the bad.</p><p>Hang in there. Keep stacking. And most importantly, keep praying. </p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-14550006832913399062023-11-17T00:15:00.000-06:002023-11-17T00:15:45.730-06:00Scam the Scammers<p> I have been really busy. And when I am busy, those scam phone calls annoy me more than usual. Especially since I am probably the only person on the planet who doesn't have a cell phone, so I have to stop what I am doing and go answer the phone. About two weeks ago, being totally out of patience, I did something about them.</p><p>Typically, I get three kinds of calls. The first is the call that starts out with a cheerful voice passing the time of day but soon asks if I can hear them alright. What they want is for us to answer "Yes" so they can then use that recorded affermative reply for whatever nefarious purposes they have in mind. My solution was to remain silent. Someimes it took two or three minutes for them to hang up on me.</p><p>The second type of call was the one where they ask for me by name. No amount of hanging up, swearing at them or any other response ended those calls. So finally I used my sweet little old lady voice to tell them I was sorry, but I didn't know anyone by that name and they must have the wrong number. Took about a week for those calls to stop.</p><p>There have been an astonishing number of calls trying to sell me additional supplimental Medicare. Nothing worked to stop those calls. That is until I let them read their script up to the part where they ask if I am over 65 years of age, to which I replied, "Well, no I'm not. I am 40 years old." That's when those callers hung up on me.</p><p>It has been about a week and a half since I have received a spam call. It is lovely to be free of just another annoying thing. I won't claim that I have completely ended those calls, but so far, it seems to be working.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-60362974047903972332023-11-04T13:09:00.000-05:002023-11-04T13:09:29.869-05:00Stacking...<p>Doesn't look like the world situation is going to improve any time soon, so my days are filled with various and assorted preparations.</p><p>Grocery prices continue to shoot up like a rocket. And I'm finding that the weekly store ads offer very little that I can use. So like everyone else, I am paying the highly inflated prices for the items I need. Does anyone who could fix this care even a little bit about what this inflation does to the average family? Nope.</p><p>Twelve lbs. of hamburger arrived with my grocery order this past Thursday. Since I am nearly out of frozen hamburger to use for cheeseburgers, meatballs, meatloaf, etc., that was divided into one pound packages and tossed into the freezer. Next order will include more burger for canning.</p><p>Another four large bags of frozen shredded hashbrowns are dried and packed away. Note: The last time I tried dehydrating the frozen hashbrowns that are cut into small cubes, most of it turned black. That is the only time I can remember having a problem dehydratibg frozen vegetables. Might have been operator error, but I just don't know.</p><p>24 half pint jars of cubed chicken breast are in the pressure canner. For someone cooking for one, that size is perfect for a couple of sandwiches or a small chicken and pasta salad or any number of dishes for one. The whole idea is to eliminate leftovers. I hang my head in shame to admit that sometimes leftovers are fortgotten in the fridge until they resemble science experiments gone bad. Sigh.</p><p>Evenings are my time to relax, so that is when I sometimes watch a movie and crochet. I have lots of yarn leftover from other projects and that makes for some pretty and warm granny square afghans.</p><p>Since I amuse easily, I have been having some fun messing with phone call scammers. I have been getting more scam calls lately. Some ask for me by name. Instead of swearing at them like I have in the past, I very sweetly tell them they must have the wrong number as nobody by that name lives here. I now get only maybe one or two of those calls a week instead of the former several daily.</p><p>But the most fun are the calls trying to get me to buy additional Medicare packages. With those, I have been letting the spammer read through his script up to the point here they always ask if I am over 65 years of age, to which I reply that I am 40 years old. That answer brings a 'click' on their end of the call. The number of those calls has decreased significantly. :)</p><p>I have no earthly idea what will happen in the future - near or far - but I feel like I need to keep stacking it high. And more time spent in prayer is a good thing as well. </p><p> </p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-75499796787477327302023-10-25T13:34:00.000-05:002023-10-25T13:34:25.164-05:00Is anyone else...<p> feeling like they are on sensory overload?</p><p>Everywhere I look I see stories and articles and videos about the mess we are in and how the next world war is likely just around the corner. Some of it is true and some is not. Some of it keeps us informed and some is just click bait. But it seems like no matter where I look, it is getting more difficult to find anything good in our situation. And I know that I am guilty of posting similar things.</p><p>My morning routine is to pour a mug of coffee and check the online news to see what new horrors are being thrust upon us. And lately I find myself spending more time online than I should. I don't know about anyone else, but a steady diet of doom and gloom can send a person down the slippery slope into depression. And I haven't got enough time left to waste on 'poor, pitiful me' thoughts.</p><p>Everyone has things in their lives that bring them joy. One of my daughters and her man just spent several days at their cabin on a lakeshore. Disconnect from work. No Wifi. No cell phone service. Drive into town to use both. Play with their new puppy. Good for them!</p><p>My son and his wife just spent a few days in Arizona. Farmed the one son still at home and the dog out to Grandpa and Grandma. Just the two of them. They FaceTimed me to show me the beautiful red rock cliffs of Sedona. Both work so hard and a mini vacation was needed. And my heart is happy to see this couple who have been married well over 20 years and who still like each other!</p><p>Me...I need to stay in touch with what is happening in our world for it could easily have an effect on us all. But at the same time I need to stay sane enough to make good decisions should the time come when those decisions could mean life and death. </p><p>I once had an acquaintance who remarked when I said I was too busy for whatever event she had planned, "How can you be busy. You're retired!" Honey, get comfortable. I'll tell you!</p><p>I will be canning more chicken and hamburger next week. I am in the process of sewing little pieces of fabric together to make quilts. (Snow flurries are predicted for this weekend. Good grief!) I am writing down family stories - mostly about my parents and grandparents - because my kids have shown an interest in them and maybe some day so will my grands. There is a boat load of information being entered into my genealogy program so my family will know where they came from.</p><p>Staying busy works to keep me relatively happy. Whatever works to keep you as sane as possible is a good thing. These days when we have a truck load of lies, deceit and just plain bs headed our way on a daily basis, we need to deal with it while still keeping from losing our minds.</p><p>I find that prayer works the best of all.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-24482219338542415902023-10-16T16:22:00.000-05:002023-10-16T16:22:02.197-05:00Don't Care<p>I don't care what Trump is doing.</p><p>I don't care who becomes Speaker of the House.</p><p>I don't care that there are those who believe in multiple genders and I surely don't care if they are butt hurt over 'misgendering.'</p><p>I don't care what your sexual preferences are and I certainly do not wish to celebrate whatever they are.</p><p>I don't care what the news networks say for most of it is lies.</p><p>And I really do not care what most politicias say or promise, for not only are they liars, most are bought and paid for.</p><p>There are some things I care about.</p><p>I care about my grocery bill being more expensive by the week.</p><p>I care about what my great-grands will be taught when they reach school age.</p><p>I care about fuel prices heading skyward.</p><p>I care about illegals getting free everything while our vets are homeless and many of our citizens are suffering.</p><p>I care that the current administration allows our borders to be open with God only knows how many terrorists entering at will.</p><p>And I care that nobody in power gives a rat's ass about those who put them into office.</p><p>Mostly I care about my family and what could happen to them if the crazy doesn't go away.</p><p>Things really do need to change.</p><p>It is time.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-36652974236614417972023-10-07T01:37:00.001-05:002023-10-07T01:41:42.118-05:00No Rant. Just Work.<p>As you all know, I enjoy a good rant now and then. Gets rid of some of the frustrations we are facing, and it really is kind of fun sometimes to virtually slap the snot out of those who are determined to rule over us.</p><p>Just now I simply do not have the time.</p><p>I pay very little attention to any of the major news sources. For the most part, they wouldn't recognize truth if it bit them on the bum. And I stay away from the YouTube Channels and Blogs that tell me if we don't do what they say, buy the gear they are selling or stock up on what they say we must stock up on, we will surely die.</p><p>But there are those who have earned my respect over the years. Pinball Preparedness ( <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@PinballPreparedness">Pinball Preparedness - YouTube</a>). Patara at Appalachia's Homestead (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@appalachiashomesteadwithpatara">Appalachia's Homestead with Patara - YouTube</a>). Modern Refugee (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@ModernRefugee">Modern Refugee. - YouTube</a>). Rudy at Alaska Prepper (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@AlaskaPrepper">Alaska Prepper - YouTube</a>). Alaska Granny whose link is on my sidebar. There are others, but these are the ones I pay attention to the most.</p><p>All of the above are not busy screaming that the sky is falling like so many others do. They do not try to scare us. They instead are keeping us informed about what is happening and are urging us to continue our preparations or better yet, step up what we are doing. </p><p>I don't care what the sound bites from the White House or Congress say, things are not getting better. We are up to our necks in government debt. I buy groceries every two weeks and every two weeks prices are higher. There is a whole boatload of things that need to be fixed. Not happening.</p><p>Those that I trust keep saying that the future is not looking all that great. I seriously doubt that the upcoming election will make much of a difference either way.</p><p>So most of my time is now being spent doing whatever needs to be done. Today I dehydrated broccoli and mixed vegetables. In the morning 4 large bags of shredded hash browns are going in the dehydrators. While they are drying, there are bags of flour that need to be repackaged to avoid creepy crawlers. There are several quilts that need to be finished, including one quilt top made from bright pink plain and floral flannel that my daughter has laid claim to in exchange for a fabric store run to bring me quilt backing fabric and quilt batting. :) My storeroom (formerly my bedroom) needs to be sorted out so I know exactly what I have and what I need. There can no longer be guesswork in my grocery orders. Not with prices headed skyward.</p><p>Prayer has also increased. Not for myself. I am doing OK for a cranky old lady. For our nation. For those who are having a rough time keeping body and soul together. But mostly to allow the Almighty back into the areas of our lives that He has been tossed out of. Schools. Courthouses. Government buildings. Some have even been arrested for preaching on city sidewalks. </p><p>Pray. Keep on preparing. And pray some more.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-37098276719553443862023-09-30T12:10:00.000-05:002023-09-30T12:10:47.585-05:00I Know What We Need<p> I check out the news because I need to know what the enemy is up to. </p><p>I see gangs of kids hauling off merchandise from stores without paying for it.</p><p>I see elected officials sending billions of dollars to fund a war that is none of our business.</p><p>I see women marching in the street to have the right to kill their unborn babies.</p><p>I see an administration that has already declared war on vehicles fueled by gas and diesel, kitchen stoves fueled by gas, the kind of light bulbs we have used for decades and ceiling fans, announce that now, when winter is approaching, we need to get rid of gas furnaces and switch to all electric. </p><p>And I see an entire generation - maybe more - who have no idea whatsoever might be the right bathroom to use. Who believe lipstick and dresses have the power to turn men into women.</p><p>I know what we need.</p><p>We need to bring back the generations who knew how to recognize right from wrong. We need to bring back our ancestors who believed in consequences for actions. Most of all, we need to bring God back into every part of our lives.</p><p>And a Grandpa with a switch to tear up the backside of a miscreant kid might not be such a bad idea either.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-40974908454913158682023-09-18T17:20:00.002-05:002023-09-18T17:20:27.277-05:00I now understand...<p>the meaning of the phrase..."Stop the world. I want to get off."</p><p>Evenings I will sometimes find a video to watch on my computer while sewing or crocheting. A couple of nights ago I was scrolling through YouTube videos. I understand that many videos are fake, just to get clicks, but many seemed to be somewhat true. </p><p>I saw gangs of people stealing huge dollar amounts of merchandise from stores and nobody stopped them.</p><p>I watched an argument over whether men can become pregnant.</p><p>I watched a Senate inquiry of potential judges who were unable to define a woman.</p><p>I watched parents at a school board meeting reading pornography from books that are found in elementary school libraries, only to be hauled out of the meetings. Apparently, it's OK for third graders to read what is too deranged for school board member's sensitive ears.</p><p>And there were countless videos of people screaming at one another over trivial matters. </p><p>And, of course, everything bad known to man is the fault of one who has not been President for several years.</p><p>I would really like to know when stupid took over the psyche of many Americans. </p><p>In the world I grew up in, none of this would have been tolerated. Of course the world wasn't all honey and roses, but most people were held responsible for their actions. We knew how many genders there are and which bathroom to use. We mostly worked out problems by sensibly talking to our neighbors and reaching solutions agreeable to both. </p><p>We honored the American flag and and all things patriotic.</p><p>The direction we seem to be taking is sure to continue with all things hateful. </p><p>Saw a t-shirt the other day that had printed on the front, "Stupid Should Hurt."</p><p>True, that.</p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-17266608165589188692023-09-08T10:18:00.000-05:002023-09-08T10:18:09.674-05:00Stacking, Stacking, Stacking<p>I am not one who lives in the conspiracy theory world. I have been around the block way too many times to believe everything I see on the news or on the internet. And half the time I am skeptical of what I am told by some individuals.</p><p>But something is going on. Something that does not bode well for the average citizen. Something bad.</p><p>Me...I refuse to take chances with the welfare of my family. There are a lot of us. With good appetites. </p><p>7.5 lbs. of shredded hash browns are dehydrated and packed for storage.</p><p>24 half pint jars of chicken breast are in the pressure canner. About 3 lbs. of meat are in the freezer until I can get my hands on enough for another canner load.</p><p>15 lbs. of russet potatoes are waiting to be peeled, chopped and canned. I'm trying a new to me method of canning. Potatoes canned in water turned out awful for me. I dislike the taste, texture and the buggers mostly turned gray in color. So, this go-around will be canned without liquid. Can't be any worse.</p><p>The plan is to can or dehydrate whatever is on sale. This time I got 3 lb. bags of frozen chicken breast for $5 each. Granted, they are not pretty. The meat looks pretty rough. I would guess these bags are full of the 'seconds' while the pretty meat is packed on Styrofoam trays, covered with cling wrap at an also very lovely price. I don't care. I cut the chicken breasts into about 1-inch cubes to pack into wide mouth half pint jars. Doesn't have to look nice.</p><p>The only negative thing I can say about the grocery delivery service I use is unless an item is listed in the weekly sale ad, I don't know the cost of anything until it arrives in my kitchen. I was in for a shock when I looked at the grocery receipt.</p><p>When did a can of pear halves become worth $2.39 each! A box of a dozen wide mouth canning lids runs $5.99 each! The hashbrowns I dehydrated were $5.49 for a 30 oz. bag!</p><p>Don't even try to tell me those in power care one hoot about us. I have to wonder how in the world those folks who are raising kids and working their fingers to the bone for wages that don't even come close to covering all they need - how are they managing.</p><p>My days of wimping out simply because arthritis rears its ugly head from time to time, are over. And yeah - I know that's what I tend to do. But that isn't going to get the job done. I still do it - but slower. A turtle's pace. As a dear friend likes to say, "Turtles of the world. Unite!' :) </p><p>Stack it high and wide. If this country continues down the path we are on, nobody but the elite will be able to keep food on the table.</p><p>God help us! </p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6292915201767940326.post-26289600913095326182023-09-01T12:22:00.000-05:002023-09-01T12:22:04.574-05:00 Here we go again.<p>When will the government types learn that all most of us want is to be left alone to live our lives the way we want. Within a civil society - Yes. Within the law, provided stupid is not part of our laws - Yes. Without hurting others - Yes. </p><p>Apparently, the first virus go-around didn't scare us enough to knuckle under to whatever the powers that be think we should do. From what I have seen from those who know more than I do, another round of idiocy with more of the same regulations is on the horizon. Some health facilities and schools have already issued mask mandates. My answer to that is...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACN6nzXI7CoL2h9KAiRc7IFZ3kx42LBsllixcduyEiH_8LHg8QMwDvdxOdq-SKQ2ka0P4s8uwsp-_OcfeRuLPXDnEd70CFUd1WOJ5Ecm_Kgqq7pG8FZT1EOUcLYuING82zt2hAVh9Fq0FJEfrYGqDXoelCF2t0QbZ2f_wbXk9nNuDdL7f1x6hxY2_Y24/s502/Nope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="502" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACN6nzXI7CoL2h9KAiRc7IFZ3kx42LBsllixcduyEiH_8LHg8QMwDvdxOdq-SKQ2ka0P4s8uwsp-_OcfeRuLPXDnEd70CFUd1WOJ5Ecm_Kgqq7pG8FZT1EOUcLYuING82zt2hAVh9Fq0FJEfrYGqDXoelCF2t0QbZ2f_wbXk9nNuDdL7f1x6hxY2_Y24/s320/Nope.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">accompanied by a double middle finger salute!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I also have no doubt that the next rounds of vaccines are already bottled up, waiting to be plunged into the arm of some poor person who actually believes politicians.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wonder why we hear nothing about flu season any more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On another note:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have tried over the years, without being too preachy, to introduce some of the younger nurses I see weekly to the concept of preparedness. I might be sitting at my kitchen table when they arrive, repackaging food items for long term storage. Or I might be filling water bottles. Or there might be several jars of home canned foods ready to go on the shelves.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of the older ones have gotten busy stocking up. When I see them, they like to tell me what they are working on. But most of the younger ones - far the majority, look at me like I have grown an eye in the middle of my forehead. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes, in order to get rid of the headache, we need to stop banging our heads against the brick wall.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am so done. If asked, I will answer to the best of my ability. But time is becoming too short to waste it trying to teach those who have no desire to learn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although arthritic hands tend to make pressure canning a bit of an adventure, after taking stock of the chicken I have on the shelves, I am orderng 12 lbs. of chicken breast this time around to can in half pint jars. Living alone as I do, I find the half pints just the right size for sandwiches or to have slathered in BBQ sauce for supper or for adding to a cold macaroni salad. So I will give one more try to pressure canning. The small jars are light enough in weight to be manageable.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One thing about us preppers - we rarely give up. We soldier on even when things get tough. For we know that if bad things happen, our families will be taken care of.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And that's what it is all about, isn't it!</div><p><br /></p>Vickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09409645438732452330noreply@blogger.com8