Tag Archives: dreams

We Made Soap!

The back is Blueberry Hill, and the front is Gingerbread.
The back is Blueberry Hill, and the front is Gingerbread.

Yep, we finally did it. Now we will wait five weeks to see how it turned out. We got a really great deal on the soap making tools and ingredients, so we are going to use up the fragrances and dyes that came with it while we are learning.

Oh, and it was really fun. Except for the freehand knife cutting. I really need one of these when I win the lottery:

I ended up having to work, so Gerri got the lesson and made the first batch, but when I got home she was still so excited that she wanted to make another one. I was glad, because I thought I was going to have to wait five weeks until it was cured. That’s when I found out that we were the proud new owners of four moulds, and that you can take them out of the moulds and cut the bars after about a day.

That means that we can make four loaves a day, every day. Do the math.

4 loaves x 15 bars x  = BILLIONAIRES

This should last about three days.
We aren’t sure which one is best, and they were all on sale, so…

I think that if I sell a kidney, we can afford to make soap for about a month, and then a week later we will be able to start selling the first day’s soap. That should give us enough working capital to make another three batches and the circle will begin again.

Dreaming is good.

Not about the kidney. That was a joke. Unless you know a buyer.

I’m talking about a life that’s dedicated to more simple days. Like getting up in the morning, making a bunch of soap, having lunch, sorting some worms and going out to feed and water the animals. I could really get used to that.

It sure beats getting up at 2 am so that you can get your job done before the road bans come on at 10, but still end up chaining up and slopping through the mud for the last hour, because the sun came out too fast on you.

Not that I wouldn’t jump at the chance to do that right now, I’m just dreaming about the future. You know, when I don’t have to jump at those chances anymore.

Anyhow, I should get off of here. I need to go in and watch the soap cure for a while before bed… and maybe bathe, but I really want to make this last bar of the good stuff last until ours is ready. I figure if I wash every fourth night, I should squeek slide by.

Chris

Desertion Or Sedition?

I’m having a hard time with this. At first I thought of it as an exodus, but I think an exodus is a mass departure. I don’t consider 20-30 as much of a “mass”.

I guess I should explain.

I woke up the other morning at around 5:00 am. I won’t get into the details of why I got up that early, but I am getting older, and sometimes my body tells me things. This particular morning, on my way back from the kitchen, I saw that the door was open to the worm room and there were a couple of worms on the floor. I walked over and saw that I had left the screen off of the top and there were some dried out worm husks there. I also saw the sides covered in worms and castings, so I stepped closer to shoo them back in and put the lid on.

Squish!

Now I have stepped on lots of worms in my life, but it’s different when you are in your bare feet and on a wood floor. I looked down and saw a line of worms heading for the exit. They got crisper, the closer to the door that they were, so I knew that it had happened gradually over the night.

I was reminded of a story that I had read in the Old Testament about Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt.

The difference between the exodus of the Bible and the worms was that the worms were scattered out, there was only a handful of the worms that went with the leader, and it wasn’t 40 years of wandering. I would be surprised if they made it 40 minutes.

Oh, and I have evidence that the worms tried to escape.

No, it wasn’t an exodus, but it was something. Maybe sedition?

sedition

After, I started thinking about whether the first worm was trying to incite some sort of disorder amongst the rest of the worms, I realised that it might not have happened that way. It might just be like the worm websites tell me, and they just weren’t settled in to their new home.

Apparently they get used to a certain way of life, then they are bagged up in their own poop and some shredded cardboard and shipped off to some weirdo that stares creepily at them while digging around their new home with a pair of rubber gloves.

This brings me to:

desertion

This seems more like what happened. They actually liked living in the bag of poop and going for car rides. They don’t want the freedom of choice and they are perfectly happy eating moist cardboard. I guess they are like Domino’s Pizza customers in that regard. The shipping bag was just outside the room, so they might have been heading for the familiar scent of synthetic burlap or whatever it’s made of.

Real burlap is better

Well, they don’t have to feel the emotional turmoil any longer, because now they are dead. May they rest in peace.

I placed their lifeless, crumbly bodies back into the bin with their friends and family. Not because I wanted them to get a proper burial, but to let the others know what happens to deserters in this dictatorship.

It’s been two nights with not one attempted escape, so I guess it worked. Everybody is just quietly munching their lettuce shreds and banana peels, and acting like worms are supposed to act.

Civilised, unlike people at Donald Trump rallies.

Backstory – Gerri

I don’t know how much of my backstory is truly necessary here, so I will try to be brief.  I lived a very consumer-driven lifestyle, which was only enhanced by a career that was image-obsessed.  I believed most of the lies the world told me, and eventually my heart became too sick to remain the same.

Our decision to relocate to British Columbia was extremely difficult to make, and to accept. I lived my entire life in one place, trying to learn how to belong, but never quite getting it.  I hadn’t dreamed I would ever leave where I had always been, so the thought of starting over made me weak with fear.

Confronting fear is a game changer.  It is the force that drives me forward toward the unknown.  As scared as I am of doing something new, I am far more afraid of not doing it.  Rebel Nerd, they call me.  We decided to give the kids a year to adjust to the idea of moving, and then, a year later, we loaded all our crap into a bus and drove that mother out here.   I’m sure more than a few people thought we were crazy.  Although we do have kids, we don’t talk about them here.  First rule of granola light club:  Kids don’t want nothin’ to do with granola light club.

Coming here has challenged the way I think.  It has challenged the way I relate to myself, and to others.    It has deeply enhanced the relationship I have with my family,  and my physical and mental health.  I feel strong and free.  I feel close to the land, and I spend a great deal of time surrounded by fresh air and trees.  I can no longer afford to forget where my real home is.   I am the original granola-light, because I understand how hard it is to make a huge change all at once.  I’m about setting small goals of being more sustainable, greener, more willing to find ways to reuse/repurpose something, instead of buying something new.  We try every day to do a bit better, and so far it’s working out well.

IMG_8766

I also have a really interesting new job, with a company that excites me and makes me feel like an important part of the team.  I’m surrounded by cool people who are into setting and achieving goals, personally and professionally.  I like what I do, and the people who I work with.  I feel like I might have won the ‘New Career Lottery’ 🙂

Starting over isn’t easy, but it has a lot of amazing rewards.  It’s been a chance to start living the life we have been dreaming of since we met.  It feels amazing to finally be seeing it happen for real.

 

Switching To European Nightcrawlers

Yes, that’s right. I’m getting out of the Red Wigglers for greener pastures. I am not getting rid of all of the little fellas right now, but I am selling a couple of home setups to some friends and limiting my production of them. The only reason is that they are too small for bait. This is not what I was led to believe as a young lad growing up.

It says right there that they catch the big one every time. You all heard it. They’re the Cadillac of worms.

Well, I’m here to tell you that they may be the Cadillac of worms, but these Euros are the Rolls Royce of worms.

This is coming purely from inexperience and a money standpoint. Let’s compare the two.

Red Wiggler

  • Compost like nobody’s business
  • Breed like crazy
  • Are able to squeeze through tight spots, making them an excellent candidate for sneaking cameras into buildings for top secret spy manoeuvres
  • Can be used as bait, if you have a tiny hook
  • Can be sold by the pound, or fed to the chickens when your bin starts to overflow
  • Look like this:
I still really like this guy, but he just can't carry his weight.
I still really like this guy, but he just can’t carry his weight.

European Nightcrawlers

  • Still a good composter
  • Not as prolific a breeder as the red wiggler. Kind of like a red wiggler after 9 beer
  • Can speak four different languages, making them excellent bait worms in tourist areas.
  • Will fit on almost every size of hook
  • Can be sold by the dozen to local fishermenpeople, by the pound to fellow composters, or fed to the chickens when the bins get full.
  • Look like this
Just look at the lad. Er, lady. Er, both.
Just look at the lad. Er, lady. Er, both.

The Verdict

The proof is in the pudding, and the pudding is probably going to be made of red wigglers if these things keep breeding like this. It is pretty nice to have the little eating machines around though, so I may cut them a little slack for a bit.

 

Apparently these are a pretty sweet setup.

I was also thinking of putting on a workshop when I get enough for ten single family setups. Maybe get them to choose the type of bin they want, or to build one, and I could supply the red wigglers and the bedding to get them started on the road to less waste and healthier plants.

I think that would work well for me, and then I won’t have a bunch of locals competing for the town’s bait business, because it sounds like I’ll have a hard enough time to make $300 a year at it myself.

Minus the $110 I paid for the initial batch of nightcrawlers, and the $217 for 1000 compostable soup bowls and lids.

Wait a minute…

Oh well, I’m going to have some great fertilizer, and maybe I can turn a profit next year. At least I know that I won’t have to see those styrofoam bowls with the plastic lids floating around our beautiful lakes. These are supposed to break down within 45 days, and from the sounds of it, I can feed them to the worms if I run out of kitchen waste.

Chris