My name is Tia and Miss Cindy is a sister of my heart, the big sister I always wanted but never had. You know, slightly older so she can share her worldly experience and knowledge, but close enough to you that you can borrow each others clothes and whatnot.
Cindy and I don’t share clothes, being as how I’m in the Pacific Northwest and she’s in The Swamp. Postage is spendy, y’all. We do share life experiences and worldly knowledge, though, which is much more important than clothes. Probably. We’ve also been known to share a few craft ideas, which I’m sure our husbands love.
When this sister from another mister called to tell me Sunshine was moving her even further out of civilization, I was ecstatic! Okay, I was nervous as all hell for her because, obviously. But I was pretty stoked for me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of a homestead in the middle of nowhere. A plot of land where my doggy can roam free, chase after birds and squirrels to his heart’s content, and never have to be leashed again. A sprawling ranch house with enough room to have my own office, a studio for Scotty (my husband), and the Teenager (aka Jojo aka my son) could have his own space.
In reality, my little patch of paradise would need to be fairly close to my doctors and a hospital. (So NOT in the buttfuck middle of nowhere. sigh.) With unpredictable health, one needs to be close to civilization. Fortunately for me, my little patch of the Pacific Northwest has its fair share of paradise-like areas that are still within a short drive to help, so there’s still hope.
I dream of the things that are causing Cindy panic attacks. Gardening, composting, learning how to make much of what we need. Also, Cindy’s motives are much purer than mine. She wants to homestead to reduce her carbon footprint, I want to homestead because, after years of apartment living, I dislike people. Greatly.
Of course, I suppose if I were suddenly thrust into the position of planning out a garden plot and ordering seeds, I might be panicking. For now, for me, it’s all a dream. At least once a week I lament that Sunshine and his friend couldn’t have picked to buy land here by me. I’d move to be Cindy’s neighbor in a heartbeat.
So while I might not be moving to buttfuck middle of nowhere, I’ll still be Cindy’s neighbor here. I’ll be living vicariously through her, sharing cool shit I’ve found across the interwebs that may or may not make her new homesteading life easier.
Why share on Miss Cindy’s site when I’m usually writing over here? Well, because Miss Cindy asked me to and I have a hard time telling her no.
Also, I kinda like having things all neat and categorized and whatnot. Since my site is more about my life with chronic illness, sharing random posts about homesteading would feel out of place, no?
So what kinds of cool shit would you like me to find and share? Recipes? DIY projects that are least likely to cause harm? Gardening tips for the green-thumb impaired? Come on peeps, I live in the land of Portlandia! I could share ten ways to reuse the hair your dog sheds, if I really wanted to. Except I don’t, because ew. (There are limits to my recycling/reusing/re-purposing heart.)
Drop a note in the comments and let me know what you wanna see! I’ll put together some fun lists, and if we can’t help Cindy, well at least we’ll be telling her what NOT to do, right?
Until next time, spread kindness around like it’s fertilizer.
**Author’s note: As you may have noticed, I tend to live with a healthy dose of humor and sarcasm. No offense is intended or implied, so laugh a little and help me make the world a less cranky place.