A serious question: looking at some survival foodstuffs. The 25-year shelf life kind. Any recommendations as to manufacturer?
Sven,
If you’re looking at those “survival in a bucket” options, the only one I know of is Auguson(sp?) Farms, and their prices have been going through the roof over the last few months.
We’ve been working out single details at a time -- water distillation for one -- we have that down now with a little still-type thing Mr. X crafted out of a pressure cooker (we’ve also picked up purification tablets from Gander Mtn).
SHTF, we can pull our woodstove’s twin out of the shop and light it off if it’s 100° outside (or expand the system a little a end up making whiskey for barter). 😉
Other than that, when we go grocery shopping, if I remember, I usually grab an extra can of this, bag of rice or beans, get home vacuum seal ’em and store them in the dark, cool-ish closet.
I figure worst case scenario, we’ll learn how to dress a deer from one of our neighbors.
We’re lucky that the combined knowledge out here is a very deep well to draw from.
Oh, and manners -- see Brenda’s Dryer.
Good Morning EveryGerbillyBody!
Coffee as I get started?
[rant ON]
I’ve bitched about the SOB dumb bastard behind us before. Nothing’s EVAR his fault. He had a cow die last summer, “I didn’t see any bullet holes…”
Like there are people rolling through our little slice of the country shooting cows.
More like the reality…the poor cow, bred, with NOTHING to eat, starved to death.
We’ve had his herd tip our fence over or flat-out invade given the chance because we’ve worked the last two years improving OUR pastures.
That fvcker hasn’t even run a disc back there.
He’s bought eight rolls of hay. Think he’s put ANY out for his cows? Once. One roll. He’s got another out, but fenced the cows out from that pasture. He passes out range cubes in a coffee can where I was taught by the previous owner to take a third of a five-gallon bucket for TWO cows.
He takes a coffee can for his entire herd!
(If we could call the sheriff or animal services we would. a) he’d immediately blame us, and ii) cows aren’t pets -- they don’t get the consideration that horses or other animals do -- it sucks, but that’s what it is)
I’ve fed one red cow A LOT of Johnson Grass (totally undesirable) -- hope she’s fertilized his fields nicely. 😉
Anyway…
As y’all know, I’ve had “issues” with Dottie going out on six-hour jaunts. So well over two months ago we improved the interior perimeter fence. The pup can get through -- they all can get through -- IF they’re willing to take the shock.
Dottie’s decided it’s not worth it, and Lati hates pain. Mission accomplished -- almost. We still have the front gate to finish -- but we’ve got the hillbilly setup for now.
Bottom line: the dogs haven’t been NEAR the outer perimeter fence for two months unsupervised.
(cont)
(cont.)
When the cold front hit last week and we were out walking the dogs, the cows were all at the NW fence line, because the wimpy cedars on that fence are. the. only. shelter. they. have. in. that. pasture.
I heard one of the cows making the nasal “hmmmm” sound at what looked like a calf, but my eyes were fried after a day at the computer, and I couldn’t believe one would calve this late in the year.
Didn’t think about it much -- just noticed.
We’re walking yesterday, and we were going to go all the way to the corner before I noticed asshole’s truck in the drive, so we made a turn to cut back early.
But not before Lati and Brody saw the him and ran over there to bark at him. I start calling them back, and he starts yelling about something while wiggling one of the fencelines (any time he wants Mr. X’s attention it’s because something needs fixing and he wants Mr. X to do it -- and Mr. X has been polite and accommodating for a LONG time, but a user is a user and he’s done doing his shit).
As we’ve done for the last nine months or so, we ignored him, and focused on the dogs. Got them back with us, finished the walk.
We’re on the way to College Station, and Mr. X’s cellphone rings. It’s the asshole. Mr. X doesn’t answer. Rings twice more. FINALLY he leaves a message.
One of the calves got stuck in the fence and its leg is damaged, it’s in the barn now, but we better keep our dogs in better check and away from his cattle.
Nothing’s his fault. Nothing.
Doesn’t matter that there’s a metric shit-ton of rusty pipe, broke-down farm equipment, and other detritus littering his side of that fenceline under those cedars. Nope, has to be OUR dogs that caused the calf to get stuck.
*I* am fit to be tied, Mr. X is WAY better at letting things go. I do give many thanks for all our other neighbors who are good people. Very good people.
But jeebus on toast, this guy’s an asshole.
The best thing about the improvements we’ve made is he can’t get down our driveway on a whim anymore. You want down to the house, you’ve got to get us to open the gate. And we ain’t opening the gate for him.
Haven’t got a clue how we’re going to end up resolving this, and we’re going to have to eventually. He ever manages to corner one of us, he’s gonna get so verbally blasted it’ll probably render him speechless.
Won’t make him consider his own shit at all, so it’ll be wasted effort -- but it’ll feel good.
[/rant finally done]
Good news is, I found most of what I wanted in College Station, but I’m going to have to use extra-wide birthday candles for the menorah, everyone was out of Hanukkah candles.
Not too crazy up there -- I guess like Sven, not everyone had the day off.
Now I’m going to play with some of the Christmas stuff I bought and try to make it puppy-proof at teh same time. Also means I have to try and find some of the other stuff I bought last year in the “craft” closet that’s fixing to asplode.
Thanks for letting me vent -- nothing so creative as the Crackhouse Manor tales, but that’s what I got.
Happy Caturday from quasi-arctic Larryville, GN!
Hai, TeX!
…everyone was out of Hanukkah candles.
Clearly, it’s an artificial shortage designed to drive prices up; I blame Big Hanukkah…and teh Evul Koch Brothers.
Your neighbor sounds like a real piece of work; might I presume that your good neighbors are aware he’s an asshole? (Which doesn’t solve your dilemma, but does provide a little support.)
Glad to read that teh pups have learned to “fear teh fence”.
Editor
Rabbit
10 years ago
Sorry about your neigh-bore TeX.
I’d gladly trade him for BW’s family.
Oh, the laterst? TM called yesterday DEMANDing to know her pin number. BW gave it to her. Then pointed out that we have both the debit cards & the credit card. So, when WG gets the pin, he can order up video games again. Just a matter of time. We are both disgusted & BW said she is ready to hand it all back over & let them ruin TM. But that was just mad talkin’. We will continue with this stupid dance.
So far, nothing, but I am watching her account like a hawk.
Happy Caturday, Gerbil Nation!
It’s another beautiful day in paradise. We had drizzle most of yesterday (it was wonderful!) and today is patchy blue sky and fluffy clouds.
TeX -- why does it seem that every neighborhood just has to have its arse-hole? Good luck with him.
Yes, ma’am! (I wasn’t sure if I’d embarrass you giving you a shout-out in *public*) 😉
The only hitch was I tried using this st00pit Ron Popeil thing that Mr. X snagged out of his mom’s kitchen when he moved her to L.A. It’s supposed to be for flavor-injecting, but it’s got a ‘ting that looks like it’d do pastry-type swirls nicely. Oy. After the first one I went to a tablespoon and my fingers.
The two leftovers we did NOT give to the dogs.
might I presume that your good neighbors are aware he’s an asshole?
Fatwa,
Oh yeah. Doyle, whose property mirrors ours (dad split 32 acres between he and his younger brother -- we’ve got the younger brother’s place now), he doesn’t cuss around ladies. Gets a HUGE shit-eating grin when I do it, but doesn’t himself. “Ass” is as far as he’ll go -- this still stands six years later.
After having one of our run-ins with the guy behind us, and we were discussing it Doyle, and without a second’s thought he says, “That fvcking asshole…”
Didn’t bat an eye afterward.
Hell, I think it was two weeks after one of his cows died, he’d taken in a couple of horses (we think for extra cash). One of the horses died. Between the three of us neighbors, we drew lots to see who’d call him.
The neighbor across the street did it because he was on his way out of town and couldn’t be caught at home.
Sven,
If you’re looking at those “survival in a bucket” options, the only one I know of is Auguson(sp?) Farms, and their prices have been going through the roof over the last few months.
We’ve been working out single details at a time -- water distillation for one -- we have that down now with a little still-type thing Mr. X crafted out of a pressure cooker (we’ve also picked up purification tablets from Gander Mtn).
SHTF, we can pull our woodstove’s twin out of the shop and light it off if it’s 100° outside (or expand the system a little a end up making whiskey for barter). 😉
Other than that, when we go grocery shopping, if I remember, I usually grab an extra can of this, bag of rice or beans, get home vacuum seal ’em and store them in the dark, cool-ish closet.
I figure worst case scenario, we’ll learn how to dress a deer from one of our neighbors.
We’re lucky that the combined knowledge out here is a very deep well to draw from.
But speaking of neighbors…
Oh, and manners -- see Brenda’s Dryer.
Good Morning EveryGerbillyBody!
Coffee as I get started?
[rant ON]
I’ve bitched about the SOB dumb bastard behind us before. Nothing’s EVAR his fault. He had a cow die last summer, “I didn’t see any bullet holes…”
Like there are people rolling through our little slice of the country shooting cows.
More like the reality…the poor cow, bred, with NOTHING to eat, starved to death.
We’ve had his herd tip our fence over or flat-out invade given the chance because we’ve worked the last two years improving OUR pastures.
That fvcker hasn’t even run a disc back there.
He’s bought eight rolls of hay. Think he’s put ANY out for his cows? Once. One roll. He’s got another out, but fenced the cows out from that pasture. He passes out range cubes in a coffee can where I was taught by the previous owner to take a third of a five-gallon bucket for TWO cows.
He takes a coffee can for his entire herd!
(If we could call the sheriff or animal services we would. a) he’d immediately blame us, and ii) cows aren’t pets -- they don’t get the consideration that horses or other animals do -- it sucks, but that’s what it is)
I’ve fed one red cow A LOT of Johnson Grass (totally undesirable) -- hope she’s fertilized his fields nicely. 😉
Anyway…
As y’all know, I’ve had “issues” with Dottie going out on six-hour jaunts. So well over two months ago we improved the interior perimeter fence. The pup can get through -- they all can get through -- IF they’re willing to take the shock.
Dottie’s decided it’s not worth it, and Lati hates pain. Mission accomplished -- almost. We still have the front gate to finish -- but we’ve got the hillbilly setup for now.
Bottom line: the dogs haven’t been NEAR the outer perimeter fence for two months unsupervised.
(cont)
(cont.)
When the cold front hit last week and we were out walking the dogs, the cows were all at the NW fence line, because the wimpy cedars on that fence are. the. only. shelter. they. have. in. that. pasture.
I heard one of the cows making the nasal “hmmmm” sound at what looked like a calf, but my eyes were fried after a day at the computer, and I couldn’t believe one would calve this late in the year.
Didn’t think about it much -- just noticed.
We’re walking yesterday, and we were going to go all the way to the corner before I noticed asshole’s truck in the drive, so we made a turn to cut back early.
But not before Lati and Brody saw the him and ran over there to bark at him. I start calling them back, and he starts yelling about something while wiggling one of the fencelines (any time he wants Mr. X’s attention it’s because something needs fixing and he wants Mr. X to do it -- and Mr. X has been polite and accommodating for a LONG time, but a user is a user and he’s done doing his shit).
As we’ve done for the last nine months or so, we ignored him, and focused on the dogs. Got them back with us, finished the walk.
We’re on the way to College Station, and Mr. X’s cellphone rings. It’s the asshole. Mr. X doesn’t answer. Rings twice more. FINALLY he leaves a message.
One of the calves got stuck in the fence and its leg is damaged, it’s in the barn now, but we better keep our dogs in better check and away from his cattle.
Nothing’s his fault. Nothing.
Doesn’t matter that there’s a metric shit-ton of rusty pipe, broke-down farm equipment, and other detritus littering his side of that fenceline under those cedars. Nope, has to be OUR dogs that caused the calf to get stuck.
*I* am fit to be tied, Mr. X is WAY better at letting things go. I do give many thanks for all our other neighbors who are good people. Very good people.
But jeebus on toast, this guy’s an asshole.
The best thing about the improvements we’ve made is he can’t get down our driveway on a whim anymore. You want down to the house, you’ve got to get us to open the gate. And we ain’t opening the gate for him.
Haven’t got a clue how we’re going to end up resolving this, and we’re going to have to eventually. He ever manages to corner one of us, he’s gonna get so verbally blasted it’ll probably render him speechless.
Won’t make him consider his own shit at all, so it’ll be wasted effort -- but it’ll feel good.
[/rant finally done]
Good news is, I found most of what I wanted in College Station, but I’m going to have to use extra-wide birthday candles for the menorah, everyone was out of Hanukkah candles.
Not too crazy up there -- I guess like Sven, not everyone had the day off.
Now I’m going to play with some of the Christmas stuff I bought and try to make it puppy-proof at teh same time. Also means I have to try and find some of the other stuff I bought last year in the “craft” closet that’s fixing to asplode.
Thanks for letting me vent -- nothing so creative as the Crackhouse Manor tales, but that’s what I got.
*ZzzzzzzT!*
Happy Caturday from quasi-arctic Larryville, GN!
Hai, TeX!
Clearly, it’s an artificial shortage designed to drive prices up; I blame Big Hanukkah…and teh Evul Koch Brothers.
Your neighbor sounds like a real piece of work; might I presume that your good neighbors are aware he’s an asshole? (Which doesn’t solve your dilemma, but does provide a little support.)
Glad to read that teh pups have learned to “fear teh fence”.
Sorry about your neigh-bore TeX.
I’d gladly trade him for BW’s family.
Oh, the laterst? TM called yesterday DEMANDing to know her pin number. BW gave it to her. Then pointed out that we have both the debit cards & the credit card. So, when WG gets the pin, he can order up video games again. Just a matter of time. We are both disgusted & BW said she is ready to hand it all back over & let them ruin TM. But that was just mad talkin’. We will continue with this stupid dance.
So far, nothing, but I am watching her account like a hawk.
By the way, Tex, were the deviled eggs ok?
Happy Caturday, Gerbil Nation!
It’s another beautiful day in paradise. We had drizzle most of yesterday (it was wonderful!) and today is patchy blue sky and fluffy clouds.
TeX -- why does it seem that every neighborhood just has to have its arse-hole? Good luck with him.
RabBiT -- {{{hugs}}}
Wwwwell, sputter sputter, Jerry has to live somewhere!
Hai, RabBeet, Paddy and Jerry!!1!
This might be wrong, but I think Paddy was referring to assholes we aren’t inordinately fond of.
Yes, ma’am! (I wasn’t sure if I’d embarrass you giving you a shout-out in *public*) 😉
The only hitch was I tried using this st00pit Ron Popeil thing that Mr. X snagged out of his mom’s kitchen when he moved her to L.A. It’s supposed to be for flavor-injecting, but it’s got a ‘ting that looks like it’d do pastry-type swirls nicely. Oy. After the first one I went to a tablespoon and my fingers.
The two leftovers we did NOT give to the dogs.
Fatwa,
Oh yeah. Doyle, whose property mirrors ours (dad split 32 acres between he and his younger brother -- we’ve got the younger brother’s place now), he doesn’t cuss around ladies. Gets a HUGE shit-eating grin when I do it, but doesn’t himself. “Ass” is as far as he’ll go -- this still stands six years later.
After having one of our run-ins with the guy behind us, and we were discussing it Doyle, and without a second’s thought he says, “That fvcking asshole…”
Didn’t bat an eye afterward.
Hell, I think it was two weeks after one of his cows died, he’d taken in a couple of horses (we think for extra cash). One of the horses died. Between the three of us neighbors, we drew lots to see who’d call him.
The neighbor across the street did it because he was on his way out of town and couldn’t be caught at home.
I guess that answers my question, TeX; t’anks! 😉