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raisingsupergirl · 3 years

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A River Runs Through It (Sometimes)

A house is just a house until it becomes a home, and that doesn’t happen overnight. At first, there’s just so much to do. Everything’s in boxes. Then you don’t know where you put it all. Dinners take twice as long to make because you have to open four cabinets before you find what you’re looking for. You get up to go to the bathroom and realize you’ve walked to the linen closet. You wake up in the morning and can’t remember where you’re at. Then you can’t turn on the bathroom lights because none of the switches do what they’re supposed to. You’re drive to work takes forever because you don’t have all the turns memorized. But then a couple weeks go by, and your brain starts mapping things out. You find your new favorite seat in the family room. You figure out your morning routine and the road to work. Slowly but surely, you start getting comfortable, and that place that you bought from some random dude starts feeling like it was yours all along…

It’s funny that my actual house is my least favorite part of our new home. Don’t get me wrong—it’s wonderful. Almost perfect for what we need, in fact. And, honestly, that’s probably why I don’t like it as much as everything OUTSIDE of the house. If you’ve been following along for a while, you know I’m a projects guy. A hobbyist. And buying five acres and a ginormous shop means I have PLENTY of projects to keep me busy. To understand it best, I’ll explain my reactions to a couple of things that have been said to me recently.

“You’d better find a use for that shop. You sacrificed a lot of house for it.” When I was told this a few weeks ago, it confused me. I honestly had no idea what I had “sacrificed.” Our house is 2,000 square feet. What family of four needs more than that? For example, friend of mine built a new house, a large house. And he told me that he wished he hadn’t gone so big because he felt like he never saw his family, and I knew exactly what he meant. Houses are for sleeping, for cuddling up on the couch and watching movies together, for sharing the same space without barriers. Anything more than that is just defeating the purpose. Besides, if you know me, you know there’s no way I’m NOT going to find a zillion uses for my shop. :)

“It takes you two hours to mow your lawn? You’ll eventually want to hire someone to do that, right?” Now that one really floored me for a second until I realized that the person who said it would never own a yard that took anyone two hours to mow. We just have different values. As I said, I’m a projects guy, and if I were to look out at my freshly-mowed kingdom, knowing that I’d paid someone else to do it, I’d find zero joy in it. I might as well live on some random golf course. But when I’m the one responsible for that beauty (second to the Creator, of course), I’m filled with deep satisfaction. And there’s more! Every time I clear out the brush from around a tree or whack the weeds away from our wet weather creek, I get that thrill of adventure, something akin to those jungle explorers of old (on a much smaller scale, of course). There’s so much beauty in nature just waiting to be discovered. My land is a lump of clay. Plenty of character and potential all on its own, but with a little daydreaming and some hard work, it’ll reach its full beautiful potential.

There’s just something about filling a place with hard work and a loving family. Blood, sweat, laughter, and crying. It’s not about having more STUFF. It’s about having just the right stuff you need to make unfading memories. It’s my little girls chasing our cat, Fancy, instead of doing their chores. It’s about having impromptu dinner parties with friends and family. It’s about battling dozens of red wasps and millions of ants for ten hours straight to clean 3,600 tiles out of my yard. It’s about realizing that dried up ditch along the fence row becomes a roiling creek after summer storms. It’s about finding the perfect little grove on the corner of my property and imagining the years of peace and reflection that it will bring. It’s all those experiences and so many more to come. Because experiences are just unripe memories. Sharp and tart and fresh, eventually maturing into something bittersweet and unforgettable. And eventually, it’ll be almost impossible to believe my home was ever just a house.

#house to home #settling in #moving probs #memories #making memories #momblr #dadblr #mumblr

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wreckshq-blog · 5 years

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guess who’s back with a brand new rap ....it’s not me but i have my Wreckt™ boy here for y’all to love/hate !!

( dacre montgomery , 19 , cismale ) — ┊hey there, jesse wilson, i’ve had my eye on you. i see you making your way down the streets of willow creek and everyone there thinks that you’re boisterous & resourceful, but i know that you’re really truculent & sardonic. you remind me of a mud splattered truck’s engine roaring down a long stretch of dirt road, the loud crack of an aluminum bat colliding with a soaring baseball, and cold leather jacket enveloping bare torso on a summer night. and even though you’re just a high school senior & drug dealer, i know the truth about you. i know that you’re dealing drugs to your peers in order to help your mom pay rent and make ends meet. but don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret if you play by my rules.

“ you don’t know who the fuck i am ! ” so uhhh this angry bullheaded punk got held back during his freshman year ( hence his age as a hs senior sdhuifdf ) for picking too many fights and getting like super suspended for the last few months of school lmao idiot. homeboy is a native to rose hollow so u know holla at all the fellow natives who would prob be cool with him or prob know him to be a lil shit disturber.

tw: daddy issues by the nbhd plays in the bg ; yah tragic so uh, jesse’s dad was a huge dick like.... he worked a laborious job all hours of the day and then would immediately retreat to the viper bar to get fuckin lit with all his buddies so by the time he got home...... he was completely Sloshed and just bitched abt everything until passing out in his ratty lazy boy chair in front of the tv. and sometimes he would go away for weeks at a time bc of “work” but really the scum had another entire family that jesse nor his mom knew abt until papa wilson pced the fuck out when jesse was just 10 years old, and left them with basically nothing.

so he hates his dad and hopes he never sees him again bc if he does...... he wants to kill him for what Scum put him and his mom through. by default, jesse is a mama’s boy. he would do & does anything she needs of him ( + more but i’ll touch on that in a min ) bc she has done and still does so much for him. obviously when the shitty Man of the house left, she had to pick up a few jobs to support herself and jesse after just being a housewife / stay at home mom for nearly 10 years, and my boy here really thinks she’s the strongest lady he knows for real.

bc she does so much and he wants to do whatever he can to help out, jesse started getting into some major shit. he would tell his mama he was working the odd job, like mowing lawns, tossing newspapers, or just general labour work around the neighbourhood idfk whatever noble teens do to make $$$. but in reality, he was swiping bicycles off of lawns at night to sell on ebay, stealing from his friends’ parents whenever he went over to their houses, and gambling at school with his friends. now that he’s older, however, he’s moved onto bigger and better things, such as growing and selling weed to his peers. despite his mom’s impeccable efforts, she’s only one person, and he wants to look out for her just as she’s done for him his entire life. i mean yo he’s making mad money and truly believes they’d lose their house if it wasn’t for his help ?? he’s just scared deep down for his ma ok shut up.

HOMEBOY IS A TRAMP. relationships are not his forte, he would rather have a bazillion girls to flirt with / mack on, than to tie himself down to just one gal. & it’s not bc he wants to spread himself around it’s just........ he doesn’t wanna get Deep with anyone. that’s it he lit doesn’t wanna be all emotional and share his Feelings with another person so uh ladies knock him out idk. he loves the attention but at the same time, he hates it ?? like one minute he’ll wanna Tap that Ass and then the next he’ll feel sick to his stomach bc he was being affectionate sdafhuikg idK guys he’s a freak. he’s also super into baseball ? like.... he’s no sports fanatic by any means but he loves playing baseball, just taking a bat and whacking shit tbh so he’s prob on the school team or some sort of team outside of school.

a few rando wanted connections i’d love to have for him: THE POLICE YO any official members of the law that maybe hate him & wanna lock him away forever OR maybe looking out for him ?? they see potential & wanna help him better himself / get on the right track , obviously he needs his clientele so anyone who wants good ass weed that ain’t taxed by the government... hit him up , a bunch of enemies like this kid is a Punk he will straight up throat punch anyone who gets in his face abt anything & he’s just so angry so.... yeah , a couple of pals who are like indifferent ?? like whether they go to school with him or a little older they’re just ppl he can actually tolerate and they tolerate him and it’s just ... peaceful & civil wow , he needs some roWDY FRIEND to shake him of his anger & get him out partying like ‘let loose man... chillax’ - he needs that type of friend.

again super down for whatever, whether u have any wcs that jesse could fit or u just wanna brainstorm - i’m here for it hunnies !!

#this is worse than shanley's im #slashhq:intro #( 🚬 ) // : 𝙅𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙎𝙊𝙉. ▻ intro.

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398thneedvilledrive · 7 years

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Dear Anony,

I’d like to tell you all a story. It’s a fine illustration of my relationship with my family.

See, we didn’t always get on.

Way back in the days before sliced bread and frozen tv dinners and instant coffee, there was a little old cabin tucked in the trees on a mountainside and I lived in it. Me and my folks, that is. We were sharecroppers down south, in the woods just west of Kinchafoonee. The place was wanting of electricity, running water, and right about anything else you can think of.

Things were tough out there; pickins were lean. There wasn’t much in the way of recreation, just what satisfaction you could get out of surviving. Everybody, big and small, had to pitch into the effort of putting food on the table. Sure, I had what diversions I could devise to bear me through the hardship and troubles…

…but up in the hills where I’m from, nobody was particularly prosperous. We all made do with what we had.

My family consisted of six relations: there was mama, my aunt, my uncle, my brothers (just knee-high to a grasshopper then),

and me.

Life can get crowded with all them kin in a one-room cabin. Eking out a living kinda tended to take the precedence over luxuries like celebrating special occasions or, y’know, basic privacy. We lived almost on top of each other, and every singular thing was as simple and raw as it gets and you had to work hard to get it. That kind of daily drudgery can wear on you.

By a certain point in my boyhood I’d gotten pretty sick of all this, and my ambitious streak had kicked in full-time. Me and my family didn’t tend to see eye-to-eye on a lot because of it. They just couldn’t understand my vision of yanking us up outta that lowly life and onto easy street. So one day, a Sunday, I decided to shake up the routine. I’d concluded that my folks must feel as tired and worn as I did, maybe even more for the child-rearing, and that they didn’t know it, but they needed a surprise. A little taste of what I kept squawking on about.

So that morning, when the rest of my family went to church, I secretly hung back and sneaked home. I snatched up my axe,

my mallet,

my fishin’ stick,

and my copy of Helen Koues’ How to Be Your Own Decorator,

and got down to business. First I cleaned the whole place from top to bottom—and then I made it purdy. I hacked up some branches and hewed ‘em into a coat rack, painted on our tin plates, twisted twigs into wreaths, tied rags and rope into bows, fashioned a stump into a centerpiece, knitted up makeshift curtains and doilies and vague unspecified hangings, draped and hung flowers and leaves all around, and lit a whole mess of candles. On top of all that (with the help of a better crop than usual this year, my lifetime savings of pocket money, a secret stash I’d been compiling, and that fishing stick) I fixed a real-life actual feast: catfish nuggets, squirrel, butter grits, pigs’ feet, hog mows, shoo-fly pie, and flannel cakes to boot.

Finally, it was all finished.

I was so jazzed about the big reveal I could hardly contain it. But then, they all came home and…

…let’s just say they weren’t too crazy about it. They didn’t take kindly to dirty “weeds” being drug in from outdoors, or to my skipping church to make a sorry looking mess of things, or to my tying up bows and painting pretty pictures. They didn’t take to any of it. Into the fire went my coat rack, which is where firewood belonged, and out into a trash heap went everything else. I didn’t catch so much as a thank you. All I did catch was a whoopin’ for wasting a day’s work.

After that I took off running, deep into the pines near the creek, where I settled under a briar patch, sat there holding the last remains of my surprise, and stewed.

Boy, was I cross. Why couldn’t they appreciate my classic, yet rustic interior design sensibility? Why couldn’t they see I was trying to improve our lives, give us all something nice for once? I was so mad I resolved to never go home. I’d strike it out on my own. I fastened together two seared coat rack shards (and plenty of other pieces of wood) into the Coat Rack 2.0: a canoe to float me down the creek to a faraway destination.

The next thing I needed was nourishment for my journey, and luckily, I had it. Earlier I’d strung a sack of berries on a tree while catching the main ingredient for my catfish nuggets, and left the provisions where they hung.

I figured I could subsist on that till I arrived. It was a little heavier than I remembered, though.

Well, I set sail down the creek for my new life. But after drifting along for a while, sure enough I was gettin’ famished and I wanted a berry. So I opened the sack.

The doggone thing was filled with rocks.

It was obvious to me who’d done it: my kid brothers. On the way home from the holler, they’d crossed by the creek, found my berries, and took them. I knew it was those two because that’s what they always did when they stole my stuff. Replaced it with rocks and thought I wouldn’t notice. They even used rocks when they stole my pillow out its case one time. Thought I wouldn’t notice. And now they’d gone and done it again, just when I needed something to survive off. I didn’t think I’d ever been madder.

I fix a big surprise for my family and all I get from them is rocks. A whole lotta rocks.

I hated rocks. I hated every rock in the river, every big jagged boulder—

—something was off. I was in a river. Sure, I knew I was in a creek, but this wasn’t no creek. The waterway had been widening and widening and now I was in the middle of a bonafide river, and moving fast. I hadn’t paid it any mind since I was so preoccupied.

In almost the same whack, I realized I was approaching rapids, the kind of rocky rapids right before a fall. And from the sound of the roar ahead, it was lookin’ to be a big one. But if that didn’t kill me, crashing into any one of those boulders would do me in just fine.

I had to think fast. Luckily, I always thought fast; you had to growing up like I did or else you wouldn’t grab up any supper from the table before everybody else hogged it up. Or else you wouldn’t reel up your fish while it was on your hook and it’d get away and you’d go hungry. Or else you wouldn’t get anything. So I assessed my surroundings, and after finding nothing else to prevent my impending demise, the answer jumped out at me: drop anchor. What I had with my sack of heavy rocks attached to a rope was an anchor, all I had to do was use it that way. So I did.

And it worked!

Just before my vessel descended to oblivion, I hit the brakes using my brothers’ rocks. Their rocks saved my life.

When I finally made my way out of that water and onto shore, I had a new perspective. Things seemed clearer, my resolve to run away seemed stupid, and everything I had taken for granted before, everything that wasn’t enough for me, was perfectly satisfying just the way it was.

I realized now that those folks at home may have been unrefined, but they labored each day from dawn till dusk to keep me alive and I did the same for them. We all depended on each other. And that was a pretty thing indeed.

As soon as I was grown I actually did strike it out on my own, and—you know the rest. All of ‘em came up to help me once I struck metaphorical gold, and we’ve been getting along swell ever since.

Yeah, they were tough on me, but my family’s actions gave me the greatest gift and wisest council a young person could ask for, which is preparation for the way the world is. I learned early on that nobody was gonna hand me anything, even gratitude. That everything I got had to be really earned, and to not expect anybody to care how hard you tried. That all people have limits, that they can only love so much and then they’ve got to take care of themselves, and to understand that and love them anyway.

My family did more for me than anyone in the world. They don’t owe me anything, because what they gave me was what they had, and what they knew to do with it. I owe them all I’ve got in return.

Yours truly,

#Copyright The Official Onceler Fan club #398thneedvilledrive #onceler #The opinions or views expressed within this correspondence do not necessarily reflect the views of Thneed Incorporated or its members

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garrettboudreau · 4 years

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Day In The Life Of A Landscaper

Lots of people see landscapers around their town especially in the spring and summer time. Whether it be on their commute to work or maybe landscapers are doing work at their homes. The life of a landscaper is not much different than any other job really. I have had a landscaping job for the past four years. I currently have two landscaping jobs, but I will be chronicling my job at the Parks in the Town of St. Albans in Vermont. At the Town of St.Albans, the Parks crew maintains the Bay Park and Cohen park which are roughly 10 minute drive from one another. We also maintain the grounds of the Industrial Park, where businesses such as Ben and Jerry’s and Barry Callebut are located. We also maintain the Firestation’s grounds, which have a ditch that is a disaster to weed whack. This piece will examine a day in the eyes of a landscaper, through my eyes from a day last August.

I start my day at 6, because even though the Bay park is a 5 minute drive I hate mornings and take me awhile to actually get up. After getting coffee and some breakfast, I drive to Cohen Park for 7 o'clock to open up that park. It’s important to realize that, I live literally right between the Bay Park and Cohen. It's the same distance and time to drive to each of the parks. So I turn left and open up Cohen, the gate has a padlock. While the bathrooms require an actual key. It takes about 5 minutes total to open up Cohen, so I drive back to the Bay now it’s 7:15am. The Bay is almost always opened by my supervisor Robbie by the time I get back. Once I park my car and get to the office, we look at the white board. Robbie and I and my other coworkers look at the day’s objectives. The jobs for the day are make sure the building is clean, blow out the pavilion with a leaf blower. Plant trees at Cohen, mow Cohen, weed whack the medians at the Bay. As well as, weed whack the Firestation ditch, check trash, clean the bathrooms. By 7:30 am after being briefed we split up and get to work.

This particular day was a sunny and warm day, about 80 degrees, but not too warm that it made work unbearable. Weather plays a big factor on what landscaping jobs we do on a particular day. If it rains, we clean inside the Bay Stone House building. If it’s too hot, which is basically 90 degrees and above, we don’t go crazy and try and get a heat stroke.This day was one of the good ones where we could check a bunch of marks off the list.

Blowing out the pavilion might be one of the easiest jobs I have. Although it’s not all glamorous, as you can get dirt in your eyes and the machine is incredibly loud, and you typically have to cold start it. We have a gas powered backpack blower, that is heavy but does the job well. That's roughly a 10 minute job so after that I top off the gas and put it back in the supply closet. At about 7:45 am, supervisor Robbie calls me over to help him plant trees at Cohen. We load up the truck with shovels and string and tape measures and head out, we get there around 8 am. We plant them approximately 15 feet in front of the pavilion and space the trees six feet apart from one another while using a string to make sure the line was straight. Having uneven trees or not having them evenly spaced makes the end product look sloppy. We are paid by tax dollars, so we owe it to the town residents to make sure the end product looks good. I admire the work and it looks satisfying to me so we head out. That job takes about an hour so now it’s 9 am.

After that we mow Cohen, Robbie always uses the zero turn Kubota, while I use the riding Kubota. The zero turn mows the large field while I mow the tree line. The tree line has branches and rocks, so it’s better to use that mower and not mess up the blades on the zero turn. Mowing is one of the more satisfying jobs at the Park. One, because of the undeniably great aroma of freshly cut grass, and looking and seeing you made straight lines is always satisfying.

That job takes about two hours so now it’s 11 am. After that I get back to the Bay and weed whack the medians that takes a little bit of time as there is a huge traffic circle that takes about 45 minutes to do alone. We have straps to make using the weed whackers less painful. However, I choose not to use them, because it restricts my movement with the machine. At the end of weed whacking your body aches but it’s worth it when you made the yard look presentable. Furthermore, it’s required that we use protective ear wear, and eye protection. So, I use headphones that have a radio in them so I typically listen to pop music on the radio while I work. It certainly makes the work go by faster. The medians in total usually take more than an hour to do. After that it’s about 12:15, time for lunch.

Our schedules at the park for morning shift is 7- 3:30, with a 30 minute unpaid lunch break. While the night crew does a 12:30-9 shift, again with a 30 minute food break. After lunch the night crew shows up. My coworker goes with me to weed whack the firestation ditch. We load up the weed whacker string, the weed whackers, the mixed fuel, and some reflective vests. Everytime, you load up the weed whackers there is a one hundred percent guarantee that your hands will smell of gasoline. We get there around 1:15 pm. The ditch we have to weed whack is long, and steep, you literally have to weed whack vertically. We have to wear the vest, because we are working right next to a road. Also, the visibility is not great as drivers have to come up a hill before they pass the ditch.

The problem with the ditch is that it’s super steep so you have to weed whack upwards, also the ditch is never dry. You run out of string all the time, and have to replace it. Luckily we don’t use spools we use 2 pieces of string at a time. In total it is a 2 hour project. So now it is about 3:15 pm. We head back to the Bay and it’s quitting time for me. I fill out my timesheet and leave for the day. After a long day it feels great to grab your car keys and head home. It feels even better when you know you had a productive day and accomplished everything on the checklist. It’s only 3:30, so naturally I rolled down the windows and listened to the radio. It’s a warm August day and I’ve already put in a full day of work.

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bloggstar247 · 6 years

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Top battery-powered lawn care gear There’s nothing like stepping out onto your lawn on a hot summer day and firing up electric-powered lawn care gear. For one thing, you don’t smell and gasoline fumes, and most of the latest models are whisper-quiet. Fully charged, these devices last an entire day for weed-whacking, mowing, and everything in between. Plus, if you “go green” you can skip going to the gas station. via FOX NEWS https://ift.tt/2MwDLye

#IFTTT #Bloggstar

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thegreato1ne · 6 years

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FOX NEWS: Top battery-powered lawn care gear

Top battery-powered lawn care gear

There’s nothing like stepping out onto your lawn on a hot summer day and firing up electric-powered lawn care gear. For one thing, you don’t smell and gasoline fumes, and most of the latest models are whisper-quiet. Fully charged, these devices last an entire day for weed-whacking, mowing, and everything in between. Plus, if you “go green” you can skip going…

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#FOX NEWS Technology

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infotainmentplus-blog · 6 years

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"Top battery-powered lawn care gear" There’s nothing like stepping out onto your lawn on a hot summer day and firing up electric-powered lawn care gear. For one thing, you don’t smell and gasoline fumes, and most of the latest models are whisper-quiet. Fully charged, these devices last an entire day for weed-whacking, mowing, and everything in between. Plus, if you “go green” you can skip going to the gas station. via FOX NEWS https://fxn.ws/2IylP3O

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deadboxprime · 7 years

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Our Degenerate Society 5

Our Degenerate Society, Part 5: Home Ownership

(This is a re-post from 2011. 2017 edit at end)

In previous posts in this series, I've talked about the class hierarchy in the US, perhaps the world. ( I have to wonder sometimes, if the revolts in the Middle East are against class and economic hegemony and not about politics...let's save that for another day).

All of our 'institutions' are scams and shams, designed to reinforce the status quo. Marriage, education, the dream of 'upward mobility,' all of these things support an invisible power structure. Indeed, we are all very much living in a Matrix-like socio-economic structure, where the common folk unwittingly support the transcendent rich while chasing the pipe dream that they too might someday ascend into the ranks of the rich and powerful.

Sounds like a conspiracy theory, doesn't it?

Do you own your own home? Think carefully. If you're paying a mortgage, you don't own it, the bank does. This is a crucial distinction that is often hidden to most people. In the film Father's Little Dividend, the sequel to the original Father of the Bride, the parents are shocked that their children have signed a mortgage in order to buy their house. The wealthy in-laws poo-poo this idea, saying that mortgages aren't really bad, we had one when we were young, and so on. Funny, that older generations feared mortgages. Of course, considering that the word means 'death-note,' perhaps it's not that surprising.

And yet, this is the 'American Dream.' We're fooled into thinking that when we buy a house that we are Lord of the Manor, when in fact we don't even own the house. Unless you've paid off the house, you're just the maintenance worker. You're the guy who takes care of the place while the owner is away. You not only pay mortgage to the bank – who can take the property at pretty much any time – you are also paying for the upkeep, buying a new furnace and air conditioner, putting on a new roof, mowing the lawn, whacking weeds and mending fences. You're not the Lord of the Manor, you're the servant. Homeownership is modern indenture.

Buying a home is a good investment? No, in fact, it is not. Not for you, anyway. It's great for your kids, when the place is finally paid off and they inherit the place. Otherwise, between taxes, upgrades, and maintenance, it's a moneypit. You're better off saving you're money, as the inflation of the past decade won't soon recur, and home values will not likely appreciate very quickly again.

Even when it's paid off, you are not 'Lord of the Manor.' You own the house and the topsoil. You do not own the airspace, or the mineral rights. You don't even own the utility connections. The government can exercise eminent domain at anytime so they can put up a New York Times building on the land and get paid off by the corporation.

Most of the time you're paying for the address, as the house itself located elsewhere is often less expensive.

All of this supports the status quo. You invest everything you have in the system, and we'll keep moving that brass ring so that it is just beyond your reach. You keep reaching, and keep pedaling, because it is your legs that power the merry-go-round and we're making money by charging you for the ride.

What a scam.

Even the process leading up to the whole thing is a lie. I'm talking about the credit process. Your credit history is just the language that banks use to talk shit about you. The people with the highest credit scores aren't the people with no debt. The high credit scores are the people who have multiple credit cards, a car loan and a mortgage, and pay everything early. People who spend more than they make. The trick is that there are numerous ways to trip you up. Billing cycles versus pay cycles, calendar month versus 30 days, and more than I even know about. Pay cash, and tell them to STFU. By using credit, you are supporting the transcendent rich hierarchy.

'We've priced everything beyond your ability to pay so that we can engage you in paying eternally. But don't worry! We have a payment plan...and only 22.9% interest...'

More institutional scams: insurance, though there is little you can do about it. Check your plan to see if this is true for you. Individual plans cost, for example say $30. A two party plan costs more than three times as much and a 'family' plan costs more than five times as much as an individual plan. Sure, there's additional paperwork involved so there's more overhead, but that much more is excessive.

We can't blame the doctors, because they had to spend $200K ( 'Don't worry, we have a payment plan...') to become doctors in the first place, at the educational institutions which are charging more and more for the same product because of the availability of loans...

Dental insurance? Check yours. Mine is essentially a payment plan. I pay every pay period and then a co-pay when I see the dentist, and of course, some procedures are extra. Next open season, I'm canceling it. Instead, I will make the same payments to an interest bearing account and pay out of pocket. I suspect I'll actually make money.

The entire world in which we live in is designed to rip you off and keep you working, producing for the transcendent rich. And everyday we fall for it, even me. Everyday there are new scams and new ways to erode everything that we say we believe in. Why do we believe in those things, I wonder?

And I as I've said before no one even cares that I, like others before me, am exposing the corruption. They know you will have to keep working, and our addiction to electronic gadgets and social eminence will keep us buying – no, financing – a high def, big screen, foldable, uber-portable smart phone so we can tweet and watch Real Housewives (bullshit lady, your tits aren't even real and neither is your haircolor. Those women aren't housewives).

I'd start a movement, but no one listens to me. I'm 'crazy.' I'm a 'conspiracy theorist.' Nonetheless, I wonder what would happen if a large number of people paid off their credit cards and finance arrangements and started paying cash. What if we stopped worrying about our credit scores and told the banks to go pour themselves a frosty mug of Fuck You? What if nobody bought houses? What if we refused to be gouged by the already rich and insisted on change?

Yeah, what if. But in a moment, we both know that you're going to click on something more interesting and forget everything I just told you.

2017 Edit: Even though I “own” a home, I still think that homeownership is not what it is advertised to be – just like marriage. I do not and will not have a credit card. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to live without them. I still think “credit” is bullshit, even though I do try to not consciously fuck mine up, even if I’m not especially concerned about improving it.

Healthcare has gotten worse in the past 6 years, but you don’t need me to tell you that. Overall, this post stands up pretty well. Now, go ahead and click on something more interesting.

©2017 Deadbox Prime. All opinions expressed on this blog are property of the author and may not be used or reproduced without permission. Limited permission is granted, retroactively, for reblogging or link posting for personal, not-for-profit use. Permission does not apply to material found at any page listed as a reference, nor should it be in any way misconstrued to give permission to use the work of another without citing it as such. Receive post notifications on Twitter, and between post commentary on Facebook. Comments welcome.

#deadbox prime #Our Degenerate Society

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cessanderson · 7 years

Photo

Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017 http://ift.tt/2qi5s2j

My little orchard is still in its early years– which means it’s still a fair amount of work– but there’s such an amazing sense of satisfaction that comes from planting, nurturing, and then harvesting fruit from your own trees.

I started with a few small trees in May of 2015…

Added a few in 2016…

And now the orchard consists of 8 apple trees, 3 peach trees, 2 pear trees, and 2 cherry trees.

Last year the peach trees gave me enough fruit for some amazing preserves, cobbler, and…

Peach mead! Made with honey from my bees.

I’m not sure if it’s any good yet, but it’s about ready for a taste test (and last year’s raspberry batch was super-delicious so I’ve got high hopes.)

The nice thing about my third year with the orchard is, well, 1.) no new trees this year (planting and then watering new trees all summer isn’t an insignificant amount of work) and 2.) I’ve actually got a bit of a system down when it comes to fruit-tree maintenance.

A couple of weeks ago (before we started maintenance on the trees) my mom walked out to the orchard, and when I asked her how she thought it looked, she said, “Uh, it looks like a field of grass with some sticks coming out of it…”

Okay, fair.

So here’s what my spring orchard maintenance checklist looks like.

Mow and weed whack between trees

Remove cages

Fertilize (I use 1 fruit tree fertilizer stake per tree)

Re-stake tree, if necessary

Mulch

Apply tanglefoot

Put cage back on and stake

Spray

Tanglefoot is an inscet barrier that is applied around the trunks of the trees…

In previous years I’d put this directly on the trunk, but the recommendation from the manufacturer was to use this paper wrap. Even this early in spring I had more than one tree with ants marching up and down the trunk, and the tanglefoot creates a barrier that they can’t cross.

After two weekends with my mom’s help, the orchard looks like it contains actual trees and not just sticks in the grass…

This is also the time of year I do my first “spray” on the trees. I’ve talked about this in other posts, but after the first year when I tried to go fully organic (and my trees had almost no leaves by the end of the summer) and then the second year where my peach trees in particular suffered from a fungus that caused a condition called Peach Leaf Curl, I decided to (mostly) follow the recommended spraying regimen for fruit trees. It’s worked wonders for the trees and I make sure to spray responsibly…

This means I don’t spray in early spring, but wait until after all the trees have flowered (and the bees don’t have an interest in them anymore.) As you can see, my pear trees already have spots…

Many common spots on pear leaves are caused by fungus, so I’m hoping the spray takes care of them, but, as with everything on the farm, there’s a learning curve.

Still, most of the heavy work is done on the orchard for the year now. I’ll continue to mow every month or so through the summer, and the trees will get at least one more spray before harvest, but other than that it’s just keeping an eye on them to make sure all is well, and harvesting the fruit when it’s ready.

It’s fun to see how much bigger and sturdier the trees have gotten over the last couple of years, and I can’t wait until the trees are so big that I’m harvesting with a ladder. Until then I’m enjoying the process of learning about caring for my own orchard (and the cobbler.)

Kit

#DIYdiva

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mrstevenbushus · 7 years

Text

Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017

I started with a few small trees in May of 2015…

Added a few in 2016…

And now the orchard consists of 8 apple trees, 3 peach trees, 2 pear trees, and 2 cherry trees.

Last year the peach trees gave me enough fruit for some amazing preserves, cobbler, and…

Peach mead! Made with honey from my bees.

I’m not sure if it’s any good yet, but it’s about ready for a taste test (and last year’s raspberry batch was super-delicious so I’ve got high hopes.)

Okay, fair.

So here’s what my spring orchard maintenance checklist looks like.

Mow and weed whack between trees

Remove cages

Fertilize (I use 1 fruit tree fertilizer stake per tree)

Re-stake tree, if necessary

Mulch

Apply tanglefoot

Put cage back on and stake

Spray

Tanglefoot is an inscet barrier that is applied around the trunks of the trees…

After two weekends with my mom’s help, the orchard looks like it contains actual trees and not just sticks in the grass…

Many common spots on pear leaves are caused by fungus, so I’m hoping the spray takes care of them, but, as with everything on the farm, there’s a learning curve.

Article reference Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017

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thomasrush851 · 7 years

Text

Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017

I started with a few small trees in May of 2015…

Added a few in 2016…

And now the orchard consists of 8 apple trees, 3 peach trees, 2 pear trees, and 2 cherry trees.

Last year the peach trees gave me enough fruit for some amazing preserves, cobbler, and…

Peach mead! Made with honey from my bees.

I’m not sure if it’s any good yet, but it’s about ready for a taste test (and last year’s raspberry batch was super-delicious so I’ve got high hopes.)

Okay, fair.

So here’s what my spring orchard maintenance checklist looks like.

Mow and weed whack between trees

Remove cages

Fertilize (I use 1 fruit tree fertilizer stake per tree)

Re-stake tree, if necessary

Mulch

Apply tanglefoot

Put cage back on and stake

Spray

Tanglefoot is an inscet barrier that is applied around the trunks of the trees…

After two weekends with my mom’s help, the orchard looks like it contains actual trees and not just sticks in the grass…

Many common spots on pear leaves are caused by fungus, so I’m hoping the spray takes care of them, but, as with everything on the farm, there’s a learning curve.

from Bathroom & Home http://diydiva.net/2017/05/orchard-spring-maintenance-2017/

from Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017

#Orchard: Spring Maintenance 2017

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nikki-horror · 7 years

Text

Family troubles.

I really hate offering to help my parents out money wise.. like with anything cause I'm offering to help pay for groceries, bills, or the dogs... not frivolous things or things that could easily wait till we definitely had the room to pay for them... Last night my mom thanks Sean and I for buying and supplying our own food for a little get together we had at the house and she went on to tell us how she and dad had been tight on money lately and the groceries weren't gonna be a bunch of stuff but a few things meant for specific meals. I offered to help get some groceries with my own money so we could have some more stuff to eat in the house.... I told her I didn't have much but food is important so I didn't mind getting some stuff. Again I mean food. I have money for food. This morning my parents were talking about filling the gas can up so they can do some mowing and weed whacking on the yard. They were a little iffy because they didn't have the money for gas like that. Again this is an example of something that can wait till this weekend when we all get paid... mom instantly volunteered me and was like just use the grocery money for the lawn mower... uh no... we barely have enough for food... I'm tired of eating out for lunch. I was gonna spend that money and get sandwich stuff so we could all eat. They instantly got mad at me because I refused to spend my hard earned money on whatever they wanted me to spend it on. I might be your child but my money is not your money. Just like your money is no longer my money. I pay for everything I own and do now. I pay my own phone, insurance, gas, car... etc. the only thing I don't pay is rent and that's not from lack of trying that because my parents refuse to let me. I even pay my own school tuition. I help out with groceries, medications, vet visits. I pull my weight around the house so I feel I am very entitled to how I spend my own money. This is why I hate offering. They think just because I am their child they get a say in my paycheck.... I'm sorry the yard can wait food is more important!

#personal rant

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leighon · 7 years

Text

55.

With every step Leon took, his feet seemed to drag heavier and heavier. It was like he was wading through cement, heavy on his feet and over his shoulders. Christ, he thought, eyes fixated at the ground. Moving out was supposed to make things better. And yeah, things are. For the most part. But why do I still feel so…heavy? Is it because the last thing Mom said to me was “you selfish bastard, if you want to leave so bad then fucking go”? With half my shit on the lawn? Is it because I have my own room, but I’m in a sleeping bag?

What is it? Why do I still just want to fucking sleep all the time…

He managed to lift his head up as he approached the house, and saw that all the lights were on. That’s one thing different about this place. Someone’s always around. Lifting his feet to climb the stairs was difficult, but manageable, and he could hear commotion from just outside the door. Wonder what the hell is going on…

With a deep breath, he opened the door, and the cacophony escalated. The hallway was lit with warm light, reaching into the kitchen and out to the far side of the living room at the very end. Music blasted from a radio in the kitchen, and the TV bubbled underneath it like a boiling pot. Noise, Leon thought as he shuffled off his torn sneakers. So much for going to bed early.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Zoe peered out from the kitchen. “Oh, Leon’s home!” she said, waving a wooden spoon in her hand. “You’re just in time! Dinner’s going to be ready in like…uh…”

She dashed back into the kitchen, and Leon followed. The stove was covered in pots, but she somehow managed to plop an egg timer right in the middle of things, twisting it before it started ticking away. She threw open the oven door, wafting hot air out of it, and shoved a casserole dish onto the top rack. “Twenty minutes!” she finished.

As she bounced back up, her purple flyaways fell in her face, and she blew them away triumphantly. Leon blinked. “Uh…’kay,” he mumbled.

Leigh sat on the counter beside the radio, kicking their feet against the cabinets below them. “We’re all having dinner together, in the dining room,” they clarified, tucking their hair behind their ear.

“That’s right! No excuses!” Zoe exclaimed. “This is a family night! See, Leigh’s been helping me--”

“Well, if you’d let me help you,” they contested, rolling their eyes. “You just kept saying ‘no, I got it’--”

“See, but you are going to help!” Zoe whirled and pointed the wooden spoon at them, before placing it on their lap. “You’re gonna do the dishes.”

“What? Now? Fuck, I don’t want to…” They huffed and tossed the spoon into an already overflowing sink. “Can’t Ray do it? I stayed extra at work to pick up the shit you needed.”

A faint voice called from down the hall that turned everyone’s head. “Whatever it is you’re going to try and make me do, I’m not going to do it,” Ray said.

“Damn it!” Leigh hissed.

Zoe chuckled. “That’s some fucking expert sibling senses there,” she said, patting Leigh’s shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s on you.”

They pushed themselves off the counter and smoothed down their shirt, a loose, pastel pink t-shirt. Pink flower to match it too, Leon thought idly. They’re always wearing flowers… “W-well, I can set the table--”

“I’m setting the table~!” Clover darted into the kitchen, nearly knocking Leon over with her momentum. She whirled around and touched his shoulder lightly. “Oops, sorry! Hey there, what’s up? Did you just get home?”

Leon flinched from the touch, but tried to mask it by shoving his hands into his back pockets. “Y-yeah,” he managed. Everyone’s so friendly and touchy around here. I feel wicked out of place sometimes.

If he looked uncomfortable, Clover didn’t notice, bouncing to the cupboards above the sink. “Let’s see, five plates…or bowls?” she asked.

“Bowls,” Zoe said. “You’re chipper today.”

“Just turned in a term paper! It’s out of my hands! I’m free!” She balanced a stack of bowls in one arm, while Leigh reached out to give her a high five. She managed with a hearty smack, then pulled open the drawer below for silverware. “For now.”

“Honey, I don’t think you’ll ever be free at the rate you work,” Zoe commented, then spared a glance at Leon. “Hey, champ, why don’t you give her a hand and set up some glasses? Same cupboard.”

Leon nodded without a sound and moved on autopilot. Champ, he thought, gathering five glasses in his arms. There wasn’t a single matching glass in the cupboard, so he assembled ones of similar sizes and cradled them out of the kitchen back into the hallway. I haven’t been called “champ” since…like, third grade.

The dining room was diagonally across the hall from the kitchen, where the dining room table was beginning to take shape--two places set on each side, and one at the head of the table. Clover organized the bowls and silverware carefully, making sure everything was aligned on the worn, fabric placemats. “You work right? You’re not going to school,” Clover asked.

This lady asks ten questions per second. “Yeah,” Leon answered, trying to match her meticulous placing with the glasses. Not going to school anymore. I’ve got my own place to pay for, like I have time for school…like I ever cared anyway.

(”Leon! You have to graduate! You have to!” Chelsea yanked on his jacket in the parking lot. “What are you gonna do if you don’t?”

Leon didn’t look at her. ��What I’ve been doing,” he muttered. “Don’t need a fucking degree to work at a record store.”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t want to work there all your life, do you?” she huffed. “I mean, don’t you want to…go places? Don’t you have dreams?”

His chest suddenly felt hollow, the smoke from his cigarette lilting in front of his face. “No.”)

Leon spotted Clover staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t further engage her, instead heading straight back into the kitchen with his head down. “What are we, uh…” Leon started. His sentence fizzled as he felt Zoe and Leigh’s eyes on him. “What are we drinking…”

At the sink, Leigh turned off the faucet and soaked their hands in the soapy water. “Uh…what do we have for juice? That’s not orange juice.” They stuck their tongue out.

Zoe opened the fridge. “Got some Arizona fruit punch,” she grunted, pulling out the gallon jug. “Hey Ray! What do you want!”

“For what?” he called from the living room.

“To drink!” she yelled back. “And come on out, we’re almost ready!”

The layer of noise from the TV ceased. I think I just want water, Leon thought, and meandered back to the dining room. He stopped short at the table. Shit, I don’t know where everyone’s sitting. Fuck.

Ray strode in behind him, pulling a shirt over his head. He automatically walked around and sat at the seat beside the head of the table, sighing. His short, dark hair seemed wet, artificially spiked on his head. Leon’s eyebrow twitched. What were you doing? There’s gotta be some reason why you’re not helping.

Ray caught this. “What?” he grumbled. “I mowed and weed-whacked the lawn.” He peered around Leon to get a view into the kitchen. “Yo, Leigh, I’ll put those away after.”

“As usual.” There was a sigh in their voice. “Thanks.”

Ray nodded and handed Leon back his glass. “Do you mind getting me a beer? Just the can’s all right.” He slouched in his seat. “And you can sit anywhere you want except the head of the table. That’s for Zoe.”

“Sure.” Leon grabbed his glass and one that was directly across from him to make his own, and spun back around. Okay. Don’t need this one. And I’ll get water from the tap.

Back in the kitchen, Leon had to reach over Leigh’s head to return the glass, brushing against his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Um, I…”

They glanced over their shoulder, blond hair turning with them. “Oh, do you want some water? Here, gimme a sec to make it cold…”

Leon found himself staying close as they ran the tap, as they took the glass from his hand to fill it up. In the meantime, he studied their face, their long nose dusted with freckles, their striking aquamarine eyes. Not something you see too often, he mused. Then again, gray eyes aren’t too common either. Mom doesn’t have ‘em, apparently my father didn’t either, but it’s somewhere from her side of the family--

“Here. There’s some ice in the freezer, if you want some.” Leigh pushed the glass back into Leon’s calloused palm, and he nearly fumbled it. He managed to keep a grip on it by the tips of his fingers, the nails chewed down. They smiled at him briefly before returning to scrubbing a pot. Ah.

He was nearly out of the kitchen before Leon remembered what he was sent there for. Right. Ray wants a beer. Back to the refrigerator, he pulled a can from the bottom shelf. “Oh, might as well get me one. I had to deal with some grade-A shit today,” Zoe commented.

Clover pattered back to grab the jug of juice while Leon took another can and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll have juice too!” she said. “I’ll just take this out…”

The egg timer rang just as Leon returned to the dining room. This is…new, he thought, placing the beer cans in their respective places and his water glass at his own setting. Well, not totally new. It’s like Christmas at Grandma’s, but…less formal. Somehow just as noisy. He stared down at his empty bowl, letting his focus wane. I wasn’t really hungry, but……here I am, I guess. I’m already here, I don’t think Zoe would let me escape.

“Okay, okay!” Zoe entered the dining room, armed with pot holders and her casserole dish, Leigh tagging along close behind. “Embrace the aroma of white American cuisine!”

“Mac and cheese?” Clover said, taking a seat next to Leon. The piping hot plate was filled to the brim with cheesy noodles, along with a layer of shredded cheese and breadcrumbs. “I should’ve known…”

“Straight off the Velveeta box,” Zoe stated proudly, but stuck her tongue out at the same time. “I am no chef, folks, but this is gonna taste better than you think, I promise.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Leigh said. They took a seat next to their brother, still in clear sight of Leon. They immediately reached over and poured themself the pink juice at the center of the table. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Yes! See, they get it,” Zoe confirmed. She twirled a spatula in her hand once before jamming it straight into the middle of the casserole dish. “Help yourselves, but it’s gonna be hot.”

Ray took the spatula first, spooning himself out a steaming helping. Automatically, he passed it over to Leigh. “Looks good,” Ray muttered. “Thanks.”

“Yes, thanks for cooking, Zoe!” Clover exclaimed.

She beamed from her seat. “Sure thing,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “Family dinners are good every once in a while, huh?”

Leigh giggled as they blew on their first bite. “Yeah, some family we are,” they remarked.

Family, Leon thought as he was passed the spatula from Clover. They’ve got a point. Thought that was just for people who were related…like Leigh and Ray…

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Zoe asked. “Who wants to start?”

She glanced pointedly at Ray, who had his mouth full, and intended to keep it that way. Leigh, however, was eager to pick up the slack. “Me!” they said. “Well…kinda boring, actually. Just…work, y’know. I was stocking all day…”

Leon let the conversation wash over him as he passed over the spatula and picked at the noodles on his plate. After a moment, he decided to actually eat one. It isn’t bad, he thought, chewing slow. Better than a box mix by a long shot.

(”Joey!” his mother shouted. “You left your dishes in the sink! Christ, if you’re going to cook, clean up after yourself!”

Jostled awake, he stared wide eyed at the sheets, body tense. “Joey? Joey! Get out here and clean this up! Now!”

The clock beside him read 11:24 PM. Moonlight filtered through his window. His heartbeat mimicked her pounding footsteps down the hall, and her beating on his door. “Joseph Lionel! For fuck’s sake…”)

“Leon?”

He shook his head and glanced up, dazed. Zoe had her head cocked in his direction, but as soon as his attention was garnered, she returned to her bowl. “Your turn.”

“Wh…what?” he said.

“Tell us how your day was.” She shoveled a mouthful of noodles in her mouth. “You know the routine.”

I don’t, actually, he thought, chewing his lip. Mom hasn’t asked me about my day in years. And then, she was barely around when I was, which nixed most interaction. Unless it was her yelling at me. Which she wouldn’t spare me on no matter when…oh, God damn it. He winced to himself. I’m not there anymore, I’m not there anymore. It doesn’t matter anymore.

I can breathe a little bit.

Which he did. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Nothing special,” he sighed. “Just…I dunno. Standing at a counter for six hours.”

“Yeah, that’s the life,” Zoe replied. “Dave’s your boss, just like Ray, right? Did that old stoner try to pass any weed off on you today?”

“Nope,” Leon replied. “Not today.” I can breathe. No one’s going to yell at me, or berate me, or call me Joey…

Zoe hissed. “Damn. I need to buy some more sometime.”

“Go buy it yourself,” Ray interjected. “I’m sure he’d be overjoyed at a customer…”

“Hey, so you won’t let us smoke in here, but you get stoned in the basement?” Leigh challenged, pointing their fork over at her. “What’s up with that?”

“My house, my rules,” she said. “Smoke in the basement doesn’t get upstairs. I don’t want this place smelling like an ashtray. Especially if my folks decide to haul their asses up from Florida to ‘check in’.”

Ray shook his head and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t jinx it,” he muttered.

“Trust me, I’m not trying to,” she replied. “Okay, I’ve got to tell you about this shitty tramp stamp I had to tattoo…”

Zoe continued to ramble, gesturing as she spoke. In the meantime, Leon scanned the table. Clover was eagerly listening, giggling in all the right places, while Ray was only half paying attention. Leigh seemed to be engrossed as well…until their eyes flickered over to meet Leon’s. He wasn’t quick enough to go unnoticed, and they winked at him in response with a small smirk.

Leon’s fork twitched in his hand, and he tried to resume eating. Even with the promise of moving out…I never expected I’d get anything like this. I didn’t know people lived like this. It’s…it’s all right. He found his eyes continually wandering back to Leigh. Better than I thought.

Laughter took over the table, and Leon found himself joining in with a small chuckle. Suddenly, his appetite came back to him, and he began to eat a little faster. Funny. I don’t feel so…heavy anymore.

Things are getting better. That’s good. That’s something…to keep looking forward to.

#*stories #*oneshot

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