Tag Archives: health

chicken drill bit

The Silkies have picked a spot to dig a hole, and are digging the hole with their bodies, removing the dirt in their feathers and shaking it out elsewhere.  Slow and steady.

They take turns, and now they have the hole twice as deep as this, so that they are fully below ground level. Odd little birds.Sidewinder unwinding in the pool. I haven’t bought them a bag of pro-mix outside of the greenhouse before because in the greenhouse, they are doing the work of distributing it for me to amend the soil I will grow in, but hey.  They need a bath in the summer too, what’s one bag of mix?   They enjoy it so much. 

I’m back

I survived my mini-collapse, and have been digging my routines back out for the past few days.  I hope it was worth it.   I’m all sugar free now (again), so I hope that transition was worth a week’s lost productivity.

All is well.  Cheeks persists, and is gunning for permanent house chicken status, like a pet parrot;  the ten untimely chicks are all well and growing their feathers; all the birds are fine but getting cranky about the GH confinement, and my hives are all still alive.

The Story of Sidewinder and Sidekick retold on Steem today.

 

I’m fine; day 3

Not fine, exactly.  I fell off a cliff of sorts.  (Now I want to draw a picture of a cliff of sorts.  Lots of sorts.).

Yes, I broke my daily blogging streak shortly after one straight year.  I just couldn’t truly convince myself that I had anything worth saying for a whole 24 hrs.  Turns out when I do that, people pipe up “Hey, is something wrong?  You skipped a day!” (Thanks:) That’s sweet)

I haven’t been doing much but flopping around.  It’s like all the doing and productivity caught up with me and caved in.  I’m missing the reason for doing any of it.  I had the vague thought Wouldn’t it be nice to take a week and not do a damn thing other than what I feel like in any given moment?  Immediately followed by calculating how much work would be necessary to prepare for such a week.

Then such a week just started to happen without my intention or preparation, and I thought well while I’m flopping around miserably, I think I’ll give up sugar, because sugar is what has fueled me through doing all the things I don’t feel like for far too long, so, if I’m not doing anything useful, then, good timing.   And I’m already in a hole, so the withdrawal symptoms will be absorbed.

Today was day three, and my appetite for real food just returned.  The last two days real food was the tasteless stuff I ate when I was dying for chocolate chips.

It hasn’t been as crazy as I kind of expected.  The headaches were mild, the moodiness not out of the ordinary.  The brain fog (confusion, unreliable memory, no decision making ability) was already problematic; I’ve known for a long time I need to re-source my fuel, but when my brain starts breaking down, there’s a problem.  I can’t get enough BioK; I had to look up how much of it was too much (too much BioK isn’t a thing).

The distinguishing marker of the first three sugar-free days was my total inability to cope with stress.  News, an action email, new information , a phone call- really minor stuff- but I couldn’t cope, and just went and hid from it (literally)-because I could, having already surrendered ANY attachment to doing for awhile. I’m not looking at any lists because I’m already panicking at what must be on there that I’m not looking at and I wouldn’t have the energy to do the things anyway.  When I do, I’ll list again, and hopefully it will all work out in the long run, based on real energy.

That’s where I am.  2018 was a terrible year.  Objectively better than the three previous years, but according to my body and brain, the worst.  Lyme disease, anxiety and depression, failing energy and immunity due to pushing too long, and I’m into my second year of undiagnosed digestive problems.  I’m sick of being sick.  Hopefully being back exclusively on real food will help.

Post-Halloween pigs

The pigs are enjoying jack-o-lantern guts, to put it mildly.  I’ve got a few days worth of meal-enhancements from a carving party.  I mix the pulp in with their pellets, and nothing budges them from their bowls when they’ve got pumpkin.  I moved their fence around two trees, taking an entire half of it down, and there was not a flicker of interest.  No investigating.  Whatchu doin’?  Nothing.  (Good to know).

They love rooting up all the old walnuts

If anyone local has carved pumpkins left over from Halloween that will just rot, text me!  Or give them to your local pig.   Pumpkins are incredibly healthy for pigs.  Dogs too, but they can’t eat quite as much pumpkin as a pig.

Now that’s a chicken bathtub

Here we go.They’re over the privacy stage.  They don’t even get out for food sometimes.  Even the guineas.I can walk the perimeter and shake out my neck. (She’s got pool-edge walking skills)

Cheeks is thinking about it.
Cannonball! Cannonball!

They get SO dirty.Why?  Why is this a thing?  They clearly experience great pleasure at it, and I fail to see the appeal.There’s King David having a looksee.Jack appears to still have a little modesty.How many chickens are here? (Three)

What do they say about jacuzzis?  Seats X?  This tub “seats eight”, so far.  I think once they finish off the bale, it could “seat” 14.  That’s a lot of happy chickens.

Early observations of Nova Scotia.

Wäsche an der Wäscheleine

Everyone has gardens.

Everyone has clotheslines.

The grass is so green.  Like crazy, shockingly green.  I don’t know what they do here, but Miracle Gro dreams of making lawns that green.

We’ve been soaking up our new province as we drive around (so far our opinions of the culture are mostly based on the view from the road).  I’m in love with it.  It reminds me very much of my childhood province, Newfoundland, yet contrasts very much with majestic, dynamic British Columbia, where I lived 20+ years.  The trees here are so very small.  But there are lots and lots of them.

Everyone has a box with a hinged lid for garbage at the end of their drive.  About the size of a chest freezer.  Sometimes the box IS a chest freezer.  Some boxes are fancier than others.

Mari-time seems to move a bit slower.  That’s not like Kootenay time, which just means everyone’s invariably late for any appointment and that’s kinda ok.  Mari-time just means people act like there’s enough time.  Always enough time for chatting, and moving without rushing.  I notice that while plenty of people drive the ubiquitous Canadian 10-over, plenty of people also drive 10-under, which is much more unusual to me.  That’s me these days, 10-under, rubbernecking gardens and the farmhouse architecture.  There just seems to be enough time, and that means enough time to not drive like a maniac.

When we were here a month ago and hitchhiked to Halifax I asked our driver for his advice to new residents.  He happened to be a 15-over guy but still he said “Slow down.  This isn’t Ontario.  Relax.”

People pile up a lot of firewood.

I get a general impression of self-reliance and resourcefulness.

There seems to be a higher percentage of older people.  Or maybe they’re just visible, because they’re outside.  Gardening, and raking, and building decks, and digging, and rummaging in sheds.  Looking healthy and moving sure and steady.  It feels good to have all that knowledge around.

H.W. was wondering why everyone has clotheslines (really, everyone has a clothesline, tidily strung with clothes; the first thing our neighbour insisted on giving us was a coil of clothesline); was it the wind?  I said well maybe it’s the economy and money-consciousness.  It makes sense to put clothes out when a dryer costs money.  I mean, of course it always makes sense to use a clothesline, but where people are wealthier the convenience may win over sense?  He burst out “Yeah, people do what makes sense here.  They have clotheslines, they have gardens, and they recycle.  We’re in the land of sense.”  which about sums it up.

My friend in Utah with a masters in civil engineering told me that Nova Scotia’s (and Edmonton’s and Scandinavia’s) waste management system is the envy of the world.  I believe it.  I remember being blown away by the local transfer station in 2010, with its meticulous required sorting.  One of the first things we noticed driving into Nova Scotia was the separated waste bin at Subway – compost, recyclable, trash.  Nothing generated by a Subway meal would go in the trash.  That and the driver who needlessly stopped for us to jaywalk made H.W. say “we live where there’s nice people, who recycle!” And then at Canadian Tire, and the gas station, and every public trash can anywhere – at least three slots.  Sometimes a fourth, for paper (which otherwise goes in the compost).  I really want to know how this province arrived at such a progressive, pervasive, successful operation.  Where did the political will come from?

At any rate, I’m so grateful to be here and love everything I see.

Photo from bartergreen.org

Depression

The thing about depression is that when depressed it’s extremely, mortally, difficult to do things.  Motivation is a notion- a theory of a feeling.  What you are capable of gets smaller, and smaller, and more difficult, until you are barely, with great suffering, managing to do the minimum to survive.

Your focus, and attention, contracts like an aperture into tunnel vision, and when all your energy is devoted to methodically plodding one foot in front of the other, then you tend to just keep staring out your narrow tunnel like a hopeless blinkered horse.

Looking from side to side takes energy.  Big picture? Gone.

When you can just force yourself to do the one thing in front of you you have to do, then everything optional is hopeless.  And more and more becomes optional.  Writing is out of the question.  Reading is a chore.  Ditto eating, hygiene, walking to the next room.  Hmm, I think this is not necessary to my continued miserable existence.  Staying put.

The irony is that you can’t blog about being miserably, horribly depressed.  Not at the time (see above). You can only announce it in retrospect.

If you’re unlucky, like me, you do retain awareness of having been different, awareness of the decline, so that a small piece at the back of your mind screams on about how dangerously mentally ill you are becoming, but without the helpful memory of what to do to recover, or the energy to do anything about it.  For a while I got a blip of comfort out of thinking “at least I remember; at least I’m aware”.  But really, it just added sadness and inadequacy, and made me more aware of the divide between present misery and past health.

Read the rest

Rules, Adages, or Guidelines for Happiness

Ok, maybe there is a place for “Rules, Adages, or Guidelines” (Read my last post first).

Some from the book that I like:
Buy anything you want at the grocery store; cooking is always cheaper than eating out.
Start where you are (an essential part of the Law of Attraction).
Talk to strangers.
Be polite and fair.
By doing a little bit each day, you can get a lot accomplished, and What you do every day matters more than what you do once in awhile.
First things first.  Definitely.  It’s all about getting priorities straight.  Drinking enough water is critical to having enough energy to finish the project you blaze into, and eating before you blood sugar dives is crucial to having a mood that permits politeness and forgiveness.  Similarly, like “the cook eats first”, one has to take care of oneself before being capable of going out in the world and giving.  You must be replete to be generous (therefore taking care to “fill the tank” is essentially unselfish).
If it takes less than a minute to put away, or do it right, do it now.  My corollary:  If it’s almost as fast to do it as it is to write it on a list, just do it.
Things that make you happy don’t always feel happy.  Damn skippy.  Challenging and threatening things that make you feel nauseous in the doing can the most rewarding to have done.  To wit:  marathons.

Here’s a few all my own:
If a system doesn’t function, change the system.  My husband gives me fantastic feedback on whether a system works (like, where things belong).  If it works, he puts things back where they “go”, because that’s the easiest, obvious place to put them.  If the system doesn’t work, he finds someplace else to drop them that displeases me, and I know my so-clever system isn’t functional and needs to be adapted.  You can’t force people to fit a system; only the system can be changed.  Whole design industries have grown out of this.

Continue reading Rules, Adages, or Guidelines for Happiness

My Happiness Project

Bluebird image from Gretchen Rubin's Happiness ProjectI’ve started a Happiness Project.  This has nothing to do with the new year, by the way, although it might have something to do with winter.   I’ve had a stretch of a scary bad time, so I figured it was time to recruit my natural list-making and determination selves for some change.

I pulled out Gretchen Rubin’s popular The Happiness Project for reference, and ended up reading it again.  It seemed more enlightening this time, and I found useful things that I didn’t remember seeing the first time.  For one thing, I’m married now, which makes a lot of her tips and experience in her marriage more relevant.

My husband has this amazing facility for change.  It seems that all it takes for him to make lasting behavioural changes is to notice and decide he wants to change it.  Much later I’ll notice that he doesn’t do that thing anymore.  He doesn’t write down intentions, make daily review sheets or success charts.  This amazes me, because I can’t imagine doing such a thing without paperwork.  This is where The Happiness Project really sings to me.  The whole plan is detailed and ultra-specific, she values the organization of physical environment to support goals, and everything revolves around a list.

That’s no exaggeration.   The book is really a riot of lists upon lists nested in lists, a perfect comfort for a certain type of person who’s into that, like me.  For example:  Resolutions (for example Sing in the Morning, Pursue a Passion), 12 Commandments (like Identify the Problem and Enjoy the Process), Secrets of Adulthood (like People actually prefer that you buy wedding gifts off their registry,  and If you can’t find something, clean up), True Rules (such as Whenever possible, choose vegetables), and Four Splendid Truths (The days are long, but the years are short).  Since they’re all sort of rules, intentions, or resolutions, they get confusing, barring the Splendid Truths, which are more philosophic Principles of happiness.  In fact, now there are 8 Splendid Truths.

Also, as she discovers over her year, the most important key to success was her Daily Resolution Chart.  I’ve known that for a while.  Reminding oneself of the goal, and some act of acknowledging when you succeed (like checking off a list, or writing down “celebrations”) tells a deeper part of your mind that that is what you want; that is the direction you want to change.  Then your sub-mind can easily create more of it.

I found that during the project design phase, I found that the things I wanted to do sifted into two categories:  vague intentions, such as to be nicer, say no less, and be healthy; and completable goals, like write a book.   In the second category, you know when you’ve done it.  Continue reading My Happiness Project