Screen Time

We have seen so many movies since we cancelled the internet. It is the season we are most likely to watch movies, but it still seems suspicious. This past week, I have felt fed up with all this movie watching, and I think we’re done with it for the time being. I don’t mean we’ll quit movies, just that we might switch back to one or two per month instead of one or two per week.

What I’m realizing is how screen time sucks us in; we do not even seem to know what we’re not doing as we gaze at the flickering light. We need to talk about money or getting the cow inseminated or how to handle some discipline problem or Jason’s latest brilliant idea or what to do with the greenhouse, and it seems like we just can’t get around to it. It seems like we don’t have time in the evening to do a touch of painting or shelf building or trim work. Heck, we’re tired; why should we keep working in the evening? Why have those big discussions at the end of the day when everyone is fagged out?

Well, when ARE we going to do it?

The nice thing about a lack of screen diversions is that “work” can look more like a hobby. It’s funny how much more appealing a little bit of painting while we chat and listen to music can seem when we don’t have a movie sitting on the counter, waiting for us. Before, when Jason was gone on trips or worked lots of hours in winter, I did quite a bit of painting and knitting and kitchen experimentation. It was really pleasant to do this “work” with no children around, with the dark pressing against the windows, and a bit of music I save for adult ears.

Also, when I’m working side by side with Jason, we have lots if time to talk. Sometimes, we talk about the movie we saw or about why “Horehound” is better than “Sea of Cowards”. We get a chance to be friends working together, and that camaraderie makes our relationship stronger. We also get a relaxed time to have the big talks, the rhythm of the work giving us more time to consider our words or the impact of a decision.

Sometimes, the truth is, we’re just too tired to do another darn thing in the evening. Sometimes, I cannot read a page of a really great book without dozing off. What that means is that we need to go to bed. I know that if we turned on a movie, or if the internet were available, I could and would stay awake, but why? If I am really too tired to do things I love like painting, knitting or reading, then I should probably be asleep anyway, not handing my consciousness over to some mindless “entertainment”.

Happy Anniversary

Fifteen years ago, Jason and I got married. There were the normal family dramas and the mix up with the bridesmaids’ dresses and all the false importance of each and every moment. But then, after a two-minute ceremony, we were married.

We had lived together for a few years at that point, and our finances were already joined and we had already had “The Fight” in which it was determined that we were in this in a forever kind of way. But the real dreaming did not start until after that day.

There’s the dream in which we open a cafe or a hostel, and we enjoy the life that passes through our doors. There’s the one where we somehow vanish into the wilderness and live on berries and love. There’s the one where we live in a funky loft apartment in an urban area. There’s also the one where we get some land and we figure out how to be farmers.

Tonight, as we sipped our cocoa and watched the moon rise with a thick ring of moisture and  talked about the weather, we toasted our anniversary. We celebrated this dream we’re living.

Then Jason said, “ What if we...,” and I knew I made the right choice so many years ago.

The Comfort of Partnership

There are many moments every day when I have to do something I do not want to do. Some of them are trivial, like washing the dishes. Some are bigger, like convincing Violet to let me milk her. Then, there are the crisis times that leave my gut churning, like speeding tickets, fires, sick children, or empty bank accounts. From the very little to the very big, I am grateful to not have to face these things alone.

Jason will go with me into the basement to change the water filter. I know we'll pull that nasty wet carpet out together. He'll hang a nail in the barn for me to put the milk bucket on. He takes care of the cool box at least once a day. He'll help with the dishes any evening. He'll read to Sylvie which gives me a bit of breathing space. He feeds the cats and dogs while I finish the dishes. We walk down to the field together to put the animals to bed for the night. I can call him when Phaedra is fixated on having a fit. He'll call me to check on us if the morning was going rough before he left. I can ask him about how much salt to put in the soup or whether Elmer needs flea medicine.

Sure, I do not HAVE to have him to do all these things, but I think it's easy to underestimate the value of a marriage partnership. I may not get around to many important things even with the pair of us laboring away, but I feel like I have more time. I know he'll be there to help me pick up whatever I let fall aside, so I could read one more book or play a game or work with the encumbrance of an overeager helper.

Also, my gut twists less when I know he'll be home should I fall down the basement stairs or any other gruesome thing I occasionally imagine. I know if I'm feeling nervous about dealing with a house, animal, or child problem, his presence will help me find the way to a right answer.

This analysis does not even cover all the deep connections that enhance my life one thousand fold. It does not put any value on his humor or affection. And that's part of a lovely marriage, too.

All work and No Play

I just read a quote, "All Work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and Jill a rich widow."

I think I would rather be a poor wife than a rich widow.

Grinding the Gears

Let's say you finally are embracing a long time dream and let's just say that dream is homesteading. And let's say it's coming on spring in the first year of your little endeavor. And just for the heck of it, let's just say one of the two main partners has a major life change, like a new job, just as things are getting underway in that first spring in the long awaited dream of your homesteading life.

The gears might grind a bit, but you make it right on down the road just the same.

Getting Older

I have these sudden flashes about my age, like when my hands and feet ache the first few minutes after I get up in the morning, or when I say, "I'm not 40, just almost 38." Then it seems funny. I wonder if I'll get to do all the things around here I want to do, and I wonder how much time I have to get them done. Is that a mid-life crisis? Isn't it funny to say a sentence like that about yourself?

Jason gets antsy when I point out his gray hairs or when I wonder whether I'll have arthritis like my mother and grandmothers. I get antsy when I think of how long my back or shoulders or whatever will let me do the work I have never quite gotten to. Now, when we're finally ready to farm/homestead, I worry a bit that we've come quite late to the game. There is so much to learn and do.

Still, how lovely to be almost 40, and feel excitement about all I have to learn and do in the next few (or many) years.