Roots and leftovers

Before heading home for Christmas, I’ve been trying to use up those things that need to be used up in the back of the fridge and lurking in corners.  Given that much of what I have left is local root vegetables that have been hanging around for awhile, I decided to make a simple root veggie soup for lunch today with primarily local ingredients for the Dark days challenge.  It was also a really simply, really easy meal to make in the middle of a long day of editing, and provided a really comforting lunch when all was said and done.

This soup is basically root veggies with some onion, celery, corn, and tomato sauce.  The carrots, parsnips, potatoes, sweet potatoes, celery, and onions are all local, as is the salt.  The corn is not, and that I have no excuse for, other than I didn’t get around to freezing corn this summer and this frozen stuff was lurking at the back of the freezer.  The tomato is actually leftover canned sauce from last night’s dinner.  I have frozen local tomatoes that I could have used, but it seemed like a better idea to not waste the remaining few tablespoons of last night’s leftovers and use the tomatoes later on.

It was delicious, if I do say so myself.  There’s something about root vegetables in the winter, and a few combined in one dish create a remarkably complex taste in what’s really a very simple dish.

Even better, I’m sure the leftovers will be even tastier tomorrow.

Making good use

As I continue to declutter (which is a complete pain without a car, since now I have bags and boxes stacked around the apartment as I move them one backpack at a time to the Goodwill donation dropoff) I’ve been considering my stuff.

I have a lot of duplicates of things, which is easier to see when everything’s dragged out for sorting and relocation.  As favourite things start to look worn, I have a tendency to replace them, especially when they’re inexpensively available at the thrift store.  Trouble is, the original only very rarely makes it out the door because I like it, which means that I regularly wind up with multiples (which by now may or may not be in the most fantastic of condition), and because there’s a replacement, the originals rarely get the care that could fix or help them to last longer.  So, in the interest of keeping my apartment clean(er) and my wallet full(er), I’m going to try to buy less by taking better care of what I have now, and making it last longer.

There are a lot of ways this can be done.  Handwashing, air drying, and mending clothing.  Polishing and resoling shoes.  Conditioning wooden furniture.  Properly cleaning and caring for cast iron.  Airing and shaking out linens.  Today, I’ve polished a favourite paid of clogs, oiled my butcher block (which was long overdue), and fluffed out my down duvet so it doesn’t compress too much.  I’ve scrubbed out the cast iron and will be putting it all in the oven for a good re-seasoning shortly.  Up next, the wooden coffee tables are overdue for a dust and a polish, and I have some much-loved shearling boots that could do with a good cleaning at the local cobbler’s.  I also know that there I have some favourite socks that could use darning (although I find that rather intimidating).

Sadly, I know this won’t prevent things from ultimately degrading – eventually, a=nearly everything fails or wears down. Because they’re used, favourite and useful things usually can’t last forever.  But I’m hoping these measures – all of which are pretty inexpensive and rather easy – will prolong the life of my favourite things and, in so doing, also make it less likely that I’ll need to replace them, or wind up with a home filled with duplicates of things that could be better cared for.

Too often, I think that this is something that tends to get forgotten in a culture that is all too often focused on the disposable.  I forget all the time, although I’ve been somewhat better about it recently, especially as I try to move things out rather than bringing them in.  It’s easy to assume that a replacement will be cheap and easy to find.  In an apartment with a lot of things in it, it gets awfully easy to neglect taking care of them properly, especially when there’s a lot to take care of and schedules are busy.  And sometimes it just feels like too much time, or too much effort.

But the longer I can keep things useful and working well, the longer I can go without replacing them, and the better it is for my budget, my time, and the environment.  I’m not making as much waste or requiring something new to be produced, and then spending time and money to find and acquire it.  Sometimes things will be poor quality and badly made, and will need to be replaced.  I’ve bought enough lousy things in my time that I know this to be true.  Sometimes even the best made things will wear out.  This seems to be especially true when I have only one pair of jeans that fits properly.  Sometimes I just going to need something new.  But caring for what I have as best I can lets me make good use of it for as long as possible.

Having versus doing

In my zeal for taking on a more sustainable life, getting some land, and getting read for an uncertain future, I’ve bought myself some stuff.  Books, tools, pots, pans, jars, yarn, needles, bike trailer, blankets, and all manner of other things.

But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’m suffering from an acute case of having versus doing.

In brief, having versus doing is the feeling that having a particular thing is, if not enough on its own, then certainly close to it.  That having a canning kettle is, say, nine tenths of the way to be being an awesome canner.  Or that getting your hands on knitting needles and yarn is almost the same thing as being able to knock of a sweater or mittens or socks in a few weeks.

In some cases, things are necessary.  Kettles, jars, pots, pans, yarn, needs, and all these things are definitely handy, and they make their respective tasks a lot easier to do.  But on their own, they don’t have a lot of use without the knowledge and the skill to go with them.  And as with many other things done by hand, the skills are those that usually require practice, and that just don’t pop up overnight.

I’m acutely aware sometimes that as much as I may have at least some (but by no means all) of the things that I want, my skills aren’t really where I want them to be.  I can cook a great meal, sure, but if we had to survive next year on my gardening skills, we’d be in trouble.  I can knit a sweater (with a bit of swearing involved, admittedly), but a bike repair is completely out of my range of experience.  There are many skills in which I am significantly lacking, and all the tools and supplies and books in the world just won’t get me there.

Almost certainly, I’m selling myself a bit short.  No one is as good at second guessing me as…well, me.  I’m adaptable and a quick study.  I can cook, can, bike, run, hammer, saw, and do all kinds of other things that I’m sure I’ll forget about until I’m reminded that they’re needed.  But at the same time, I know there’s a lot of knowledge that I should have, and some that I would like to have, that I just don’t.

The truth is, having the stuff isn’t enough.

In Western culture, I think sometimes we get seduced by the the idea that things will somehow magically and mystically change us.  That by having something, we will be transformed – often with little to no effort – into something else.  This is prevalent in advertising, of course, where things assure sexiness, intelligence, humor, and a good life.  But I wonder if we’ve taken many of these hopes even into areas that advertising doesn’t cover.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t work, or don’t learn, or don’t get out there and do things.  Of course we do.  Having things doesn’t excuse us from activity, and there are plenty of skilled, hugely competent people who are amazing at what they do (if nothing else, I see a whole range of them every Friday at the market).  But I find, for me anyway, that it’s also easy to slip into the mentality that having stuff gets me, say, 90 percent there, and the rest will just sort itself out, or come with time, or something equally unproductive in the here and now.

And so, it’s time to put my stuff to work.  I have an apple butter recipe ready to go, and cranberries waiting to become jarred sauce.  I have some lovely sock yarn that I’ve just started casting on, and a guide to bike maintenance ready to go.  We’ll be trying a new recipe for dinner tonight filled with all kinds of the root vegetables that are plentiful in the winter in this region.  Although it won’t happen just yet, I’ve been looking at quilting patterns that I might like to try.

Sure, it’s probably better to have the stuff than to not, but the point is to actually use it.  Having is not actually doing, and it’s time to rectify that.

Storage solutions

As much as I appreciate the use of a car, I find myself stymied now with the new influx of things that tends to come when we have it. In addition to the food we picked up over the weekend, we added a few plastic tubs, a new garbage can, toilet paper,  a new desk chair, some used books, and three boxes of canning jars.

While we live in a reasonably-sized apartment of about 750 square feet, to call it full would be…charitable.  While it may have been full before (and even that would be stretching it), it’s even more so now.  The food is on the kitchen floor, the toilet paper is stacked in the bedroom, and the other bits are wherever they would kind of sort of fit. The canning jars are wedged into the cupboard at odd angles, although to be fair, that describes pretty much everything in every closet and cupboard that we have.

Pretty, it is not.

But neither is it practical.  It’s not exactly messy.  It’s really more crowded.  The kitchen is small, and with all the extra rice and flour, it’s difficult to get at the shelves and open the fridge.  The toilet paper makes it harder to walk around the bed.  The books…well, those are just everywhere right now, and not a week goes by that I don’t trip on one, or knock a pile over.  Sometimes it’s hard to find things, or to get at them when they’re a few layers deep in a closet or on a shelf.

My tendencies lean towards being a packrat.  But add into the mix the desire to be a bit more prepared for a somewhat uncertain future (and the excuse it provides for keeping stuff), and packrattery suddenly increases to the nth degree.  I keep the obviously practical stuff.  Food.  Canning jars.  Candles and lanterns.  Cast iron pots and pans.  Resource books.  The washboard.  Toilet paper.  Clothes.  Shoes.  Blankets.  My bike and its trailer.  But I keep the other, somewhat less obviously practical but also important stuff, too.  Pleasure reading and for distraction.  Card and board games, for the same reason.  Yarn and needles, for knitting.  Dishes and cutlery, for extra visitors at a meal.

The simple solution – in some ways, anyway – would be to get a bigger place.  But moving is an expensive pain, and we like the low cost of living and the proximity to groceries and various other amenities.  I could get rid of some more stuff – always an ongoing process around here – but this takes some time, and given the usefulness of a lot of this stuff, I have to admit some reluctance.

For now, the plan is better storage.  Clear out what is obviously not essential, and then make sure that there’s storage – conventional or unconventional – for it.  I’m envisioning rice and flour in tubs under the bed.  Canned goods under the couch.  Blankets stored under mattresses.  Stacks of plastic tubs or buckets in the corners. Canning jars under the sink.  It may not be pretty, but I think that I’m willing to work with practical for awhile.  If this stuff is important enough for me to get in the first place, it should also be important enough for me to store better once I get it home.

Really, anything just to keep my from stubbing my toe on The Shipping News again.

Practical, not pretty

I’ve always liked pretty.  Not flowers and lace and frills, so much (really not my thing), but I’ve always liked for things to look at least somewhat nice.

It turns out that with all of this storing, food experimentation, and preservation – and the fermenting especially – a lot of the pretty’s gone straight out the window in favour of the practical.  Now, when I walk into my kitchen I see a big jar of good-looking pickles topped off with an old ziplock tortilla bag.  Next to it is an old pyrex bowl with sauerkraut topped off with a mismatched plate on which is sitting a crock with “utensils” written on it in Danish that is in turn topped off with an old yogurt lid cut to size and a mason jar filled with water.  Prior to today it was filled with another old bag filled with beach glass that I’ve had for years.  It is, in no uncertain terms, not the prettiest thing I have going on around here.

I can’t say that the pile of dirty gardening shoes and rainboots by the front door is anything to write home about either.  Or the jars of ginger beer and sourdough starter, especially when they’ve been sitting for a few days.  Or the toppling pile of wool blankets, the box of mending and fabric scraps, the laundry hanging to dry wherever there happens to be room, and the bags of rice and beans stacked up in the kitchen.

Rather than spending money, I’ve been using what I have.  This is a good thing, of course.  The bank account is happier and I’m using things that otherwise would have been garbage or recycling.  In the last month I’ve reused bags, ice cream lids, soda bottles, and mason jars in ways that I never would have expected even a few months ago.  I take real pride in this.  It gives me pleasure to make do with what I already have, or to only need to pick up a small used thing here or there that I need, even if the results aren’t exactly pretty.

There’s something to be said for pretty, I think, or at least for things that are aesthetically pleasing.  I love to decorate, and to rearrange the apartment.  I keep things around that I think are beautiful – art on the walls, lovely blankets, nice dishes.  There are some places where I’ve let this ideal slip in the last year or so, though, and where practicality and frugality are simply winning out even when they’re not the loveliest of options.  I’m realizing more and more that my apartment is a place to live, not a showcase.  I’m more concerned now with how it functions and what it lets me do than how it looks.

Sometimes, in my idealized and romaticised world, I imagine having the perfect, well-made, very beautiful tool for every task (and a lovely, well-kept house to keep them in).  Maybe one day, when I know that they will definitely get used well and when I have room for them, I’ll buy some proper crocks for fermenting and arrange them on a wooden bench, stand up a well-built drying rack in the corner, and get some nicer jars for starting food in. Then again, maybe I won’t.  There’s value and even some pride in being practical, and in making do.  I’ll certainly consider getting things that I need, but often it turns out that the things that I need are right here, it’s just a matter of looking for them.

Auto access and errands

I’ve been loaned a car for a week by a friend of mine, and am pretty much using it to do every errand known to man that is difficult to do on the bus while I have it. Although I actually love (love!) to drive, I’m not a lover of cars – they’re costly to make and to run in a number of different ways – but sometimes there are errands that are easier and far more efficient to do with one, so I’ve been rather grateful to have it.

I started out the week with a few thrift store runs.  More on that later (it was a pretty good thrift store week, all told), but I wound up with a few dozen canning jars, a bread box, a selection of wool yarn, a few books, and a few gifts.  We’ve also stocked up on some food that’s difficult for us to carry home, like rice, potatoes, and onions as well as my favourite local oats and stone milled flour that’s just a bit difficult to access without a car.  I’ve cleared some things out of the apartment and taken in donations, and picked up a futon mattress to have a bit of extra space for guests or for one of us sleeping in the living room when necessary.  We’ve been to see friends who would more normally come to see us or pick us up.  I’ve also been to the antique store on the other side of town to search out gifts for my mom as well as the close-by hardware store to stock up on canning lids for the newly thrifted jars.  All in all, it’s been a productive week.

There are a lot of things that I don’t miss about having a car.  Making arrangements for things like insurance and maintenance.  The extra worry of having something else to take care of.  The environmental cost.  The extra lines on the budget required to run one (I credit the fact that I don’t have any student debt in part to the fact that I don’t own a car).  I still don’t think that I would want to own one.  Because of all this I’ve never really felt like I needed a car, and have been without one for almost six years now since moving to where I currently live.  Really, the biggest issue that I find not having one is that it curtails my social life, since the buses here do not run late, and I’m too out of the way to bum rides home all that frequently.  That said, it’s been nice to have access to one to quickly and easily get to errands and haul the big things around that would normally be a pain for us to move around.  Goodness knows that moving a futon mattress without one would have been a feat, possibly of Sisyphean proportions, but all of the other errands were made all the easier as well.

And so now I’m pondering other options.  I definitely don’t want a car to myself – I don’t need access to one all the time, and I’ve found even in the last week that having one makes it easy for me to get very lazy and forgo walking or biking in favour of just hopping in the car.  It would be nice to have occasional access without the cost associated with renting, though.  Unfortunately, I don’t have access to a car share system right now, but I’m beginning to consider joining one should the opportunity arise.  In the meantime, I’m going to keep up the walking and the biking, and make some limited use of what’s available to me – shared rides to the grocery store are always appreciated, as is borrowing for the annoying tasks (I always return the car with more gas in it than it came to me with as a gesture of thanks).  Other ideas are always appreciated, though – anyone have any interesting car solutions they’d care to share?