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."
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."
Oh,dear! However, syllabus shock is not fatal. Take it one assignment, one page at a time. It will require some organization, but anyone with 40+ students already knows how to do that. Besides, you have me and lots of others to "cheer you on" and provide backup. :-)
ReplyDeleteI hope the courses are intersting, but if they aren't, resort back to your comment -- this too shall pass. :-)
It is spring here, and I have decided that my allergies to CA may be my downfall. So, as I labour on with a fuzzy head, a cough, and a huge box of Kleenex (should have bought stock in the company!), I will THINK of you! :-)
Love always,
Danielle's mom /aka Anita