Urban Homesteading and Syllabus Shock

Urban Homesteading

There has long been a part of me that loves the idea of homesteading.  If ever I had a chance to take part in one of those "reality" shows where they stick a family on a rural farm or ranch, I'd grab my hat off its hook, lasso from my bedpost, and tug on my boots.  However, given that I live in a city five minutes away from two grocery stores, and have no need for those aspects of homesteading which I find so fascinating, you might think me a bit silly to not only ponder the idea but endeavour to fulfill it. 

I do find it rather amusing that at no time during my stay in the the beautiful, soul-inspiring and rugged west, where my neighbors owned cows and pumped their water from the river, did I even try to tackle this idea.  Rather, I began to feel out the process of doings these things when thousands of miles from appropriate supplies and anyone who knew what "canning" meant.  Here, try as I might, there are no "pressure canning" supplies, no canning wax, and rather little I can do in the way of gardening.  But I have prevailed!

I began this year by canning my own pear jam.  I had far too many pears that were becoming ripe and decided, 'It's time!'  So mush, mush, mush and into the pot they went.  One heavenly-scented house later, I canned the most yummy pear-cinnamon jam ever.  Rank: Beginning Homesteader ;-)  In the following months, I canned my own pickles, garlic, and onions, made salad dressings, cleaning supplies, makeup remover, face masks and even made my own cheese! 

My latest project?  Yogurt making!  This is my first attempt and if it works, I'll never buy another container of yogurt again!  I'm using what has to be the easiest recipe for yogurt making ever and if you're interested, you can find it here. I bought jello moulds to put the finished product in, that way I can freeze half the batch in perfect portion sizes for smoothies.

What about you?  Any "urban homesteaders" out there? 

Syllabus Shock

Ahh... syllabus shock.  Something I had long forgotten about and find myself facing yet again.  As a full-time teacher of 40+ students, I give homework, read homework, give grades, enter grades, create tests, think up creative ways to keep my kids challenged and interested in their school work, differentiate, group, individualize, separate, pair together, create goals, share objectives, plan, assess, communicate with parents, administration, and coworkers and otherwise use up every minute of every school day until the bell rings.  When I go home, I'm glad to be there, and typically say 'ahhh' as I pad around in comfy clothes.  But not any more.  Now, I must take a full year of online courses to appease the powers that be in the glorious state of California.

Yesterday was the day of doom.  My online courses came online - and so did the syllabus.  If only those little pieces of emailed paper were policemen, I'd simply run away and be done with it.  Alas, they will be my constant companions for the next 8+ weeks.  Read me.  Hey!  I said READ ME!  Do this, do that, post here, record your learning there.  Look at us - we demand your time!  We do not ask for it, we demand it!  That is what those 27kb pieces of paper clouded with ink say to me.  Not very friendly. 

I was rather stressed out when all those bits of ink pounced their way through my inbox and demolished my yearnings to run barefoot through the tall grass (wait, grass?  What grass?).  But I have come to recognize my reaction - one I used to have every quarter while going through college.  And now that I have diagnosed my problem, syllabus shock, I can thankfully say, this too shall pass.  I still have thoughts like, "Hey, syllabus, I teach full time.  I have kids who depend on me and colleagues to plan with.  I have lessons to create and things to do.  Don't you get that?"  And then I think, "Oh yeah, that's why you, my online syllabus, was created." 
 

Run Away!

During the drive home today, I was talking with a coworker and was reminded of a funny story I wanted to post.  So here it is :-)

Two days ago, I was merrily driving home after school ended when I came up to a round about.  Now, many of you, my American readers, have yet to experience one of these pieces of ingenuity.  Instead of a four-way stop sign or a stop light, the designers of this fair country plopped a cement circle in what we know as the intersection and decided to contribute to the rat race by making us drive in circles (because running in circles during our work day wasn't enough).  Idealistically, it works like this.  In reality, it works like this with lots of these hanging out at each one.

I waited for several minutes while traffic streamed past me, too thick to even think about entering the fray.  Then, just as I was wondering if I would make it home, preferably prior to my 9 o'clock bed time, the clouds parted and a brief spot opened up.  A green van pulled up to my left and decided that he had enough time to venture out as well.  I instantly surmised I'd be safe, due to the rather self-serving fact that if there was a problem, he'd get hit first. 

Well, as it would happen, the green van gunned his engine a little faster than I and darted out into traffic while I merged just after him.  All of a sudden, I saw two things.  1. A police car.  2. A car rather quickly approaching.  With no choice but to follow through, I pushed my little Toyota Yaris to it's limit and popped into the open space. 

Instantly red and blue lights started flashing behind me.  

My first thought?  FASTER!  Take the alley and ditch them!  I can't get a ticket for what I just did!  Are there even any rules for roundabouts? 

WHAT??  Yes, my friends, those were my thoughts as I rounded that roundabout just ahead of the car which I apparently cut off.  I had to laugh all the way home.  If I were in the states and a police car flipped on his lights due to my actions, I'd mentally kick myself, dutifully pull over, and wait for him to hand over a ticket along with my license and registration.  But here?  Oh, no.  I would never do that.  The first thought that goes through my mind?  Run away! 

Side Note:  I never did get a ticket.  The police car apparently decided simply making his presence known was enough.  But just in case they had come after me, I had a few alternate routes up my sleeve. ;-)

 

Questionable Ethics and Maybe Just a Little TMI

Questionable Ethics

When living overseas, in the midst of a different culture and different sets of ethics, you can quite easily find yourself in the midst of an activity that might be considered questionable.    Such as buying DVDs... from the DVD man on the corner...who pirates them. 

Upon first arriving to the Island, I couldn't find my way to the grocery store down the street let alone make it to a proper store that sold proper non-counterfeit versions of the entertainment product (I'm not exactly great with directions).  So, rationalizing my purchase, I began to buy from our friendly neighborhood DVD man.

Recently, I was involved in a... confrontation of sorts... regarding an item which was not rightfully owned by the person who had it in possession.  This incident, during which the person realized that they were in the wrong, prompted me to examine my own pile of not so rightly-owned items.  I am very aware that some people reading this will probably roll their eyes and say that I'm making a big deal out of nothing - and what about all the bad ethics of the people who make movies in the first place?  But to you, I simply say I cannot account for the people behind the DVD industry, I can only account for my own actions.  So, to wrap this short story up, I took each one of my wrongly owned DVDs and made them unusable.  Amazon.com digital copies, here I come!

                 Scratched, broken, cracked, microwaved, and no longer wrongfully owned DVDs.


Maybe Just a Little TMI

Today while discussing a story recently read with my students, one of my darlings piped up and said that kissing on the lips (shock, horror, gasp!) was "haram" - wrong or forbidden.  She went on to say that it was "haram" for Muslims to kiss.  Period. 

I found this rather amusing and quipped, "What do you think your mother and father do?  Shake hands?"

At which point my sweet little student's jaw dropped and her gaping mouth was accentuated by her bugging eyes.  She then stated for her friends who were now listening, "My mom and dad have NEVER kissed!"  I laughed while another student whispered that she had seen her mother and father kiss once  while they thought no one was looking.  The little girl who so adamantly affirmed her parents' chastity looked downright shocked to think of her parents committing such an unheard of act.  I had to laugh but also wondered if I had just mistakenly crossed the invisible line between classroom discussion and discussion of the sacred.  I think for that little girl, those few minutes contained just a little Too Much Information.