Free Range

Making sugar from sugar cane. Rounding up hogs. Making clothes out of flour sacks. These are some of the skills that helped my father’s family through the Great Depression on their ranch in TX. One of my favorite things to do is ask him about those days, and hear about how self-reliant the family was, back in the day. Not to be a gloom-and-doomer, but it’s struck me that there are a few skills I’d like to polish (or pick up) so I can feel more confident in advance of the coming depression/end of oil/global food crisis, etc.

1. Growing organic food.
   
2. Animal husbandry.
   
3. Baking bread. (Been working on this one lately.)
   
4. Sewing.
   
5. Knitting. (Or maybe I should leave this one to my husband.)
   
6. Making cheese.
   
7. Canning.
   
8. Salting meat.
   

Any other ideas?

Update: Another thing to keep in mind… “Cooking on a Budget” suggestions from Simply Recipes.

UPDATE: To add to the list — butchery!

UPDATE: More on keeping old skills alive from Simple Mom.

Robert Rosenthal, the former president of TBWA/Chiat Day, in an AdAge column, writes on the virtues of getting tipsy and setting aside responsibility for a little while….

“Drink responsibly.” Talk about an oxymoron.

Haven’t we already got enough responsibility in our lives?

Kids. Job. Clients. Decisions. Paying bills. Making deadlines. Watching your weight. Mowing the lawn. Filling the tank. Initiating foreplay. Then there’s moral responsibility, civic responsibility, fiduciary responsibility. Don’t you just want to say “Screw responsibility” sometimes? Those times were made for drinking.

I love the three specific prescriptions for what ails us. And, in the comments: “Sounds like someone is looking for a liquor account. ”

via Chasnote.

The other night, after awakening for some reason or another, I lay on my bed in the darkness, thinking about the global financial crisis and worrying about the world in which we’re bringing up our kids. After I got back to sleep, I was awakened again by three-year-old Callum, who seemed to be having a nightmare and was talking in his sleep.

“The ice cream truck,” he said, with panic in his voice. “It’s going away and we can’t find it.” He’s woken like this, sometimes screaming, a few times, but this is the first time he’s said something that coherently explained what was disturbing him.

“We’ll find the ice cream truck, honey,” I reassured him. “It’ll be OK.”

Such simple wants and needs. Hopefully we can continue to meet them easily for many years to come.