Another cold morning, only 30 degrees and a heavy frost on the windshield, not that I’m going anywhere.  I think I should make it a habit of parking in the barn now.

I’m still feeling mixed emotions about yesterdays failed meeting.  I had such high hopes.  Maybe that’s the problem:  I expected too much.  I know this town of Moose Creek; so many are independent souls, yet the remaining ones all have their hands out and get angry when they aren’t given everything they feel they should have.   I think those are the ones who showed up to the meeting; they are so used to getting a response from stomping their feet and throwing temper tantrums.  It’s not going to work this time though, and they will learn that soon enough.

I’m sure Carolyn will have better luck; the congregation is used to being polite and listening, something that wasn’t happening at the meeting.  She’ll get the Stone Soup Kitchen up and running, and that’s the important thing.   I talked to her this morning and told her what happened; I think she’s going to be doing some scolding tomorrow; maybe I’ll show up just to watch.  Meanwhile, I’m taking the day to recoup from the stress.  I don’t like all this responsibility, and I like it even less when no one listens!

I just came back from a long cathartic walk in the woods.  It reminded me of all the walks I took at my previous house in the woods.  Oh, how I miss that place.  That life taught me so much, about myself, about prepping.  Ever since I was a (too) young bride of 19, and got caught in the mob of the grocery store just before a snow storm in Detroit, I knew I had to keep more than one or two days of food in the house.  Little by little I learned; with the arrival of the boys I learned quicker, since they depended on me.  But it really wasn’t until I moved to the woods that I understood it could be a life or death thing. Right from the start, Pete and I decided to winter in.  The snow was much too deep to drive thru and the house was 1.2 miles from the road.  I found out pulling a heavy sled on snowshoes was tough work!  The second winter was different:  I stocked up heavy before the snow flew when I was still able to drive the supplies in. With the winter lasting almost six months, I had to store at least that much in food and supplies, everything from tomatoes to toothpaste, flour to TP.  Every year it was a little easier as I had the previous year’s inventories to reference for how much I needed of what.  I made it my mission to have whatever I might need, for whatever I might want to cook; menus selected sometimes just to keep myself entertained during those long cold months.  When y2k was approaching, I doubled what I stocked, just in case.  But that ‘just in case’ cost our relationship:  Pete was furious that I believed y2k could happen, and I was just as angry that he didn’t.

My approach has changed since that time; now it’s long term with buckets of wheat berries, and sugar and salt that will never go bad as they are preservatives and need no preserving; rice and pasta that if kept dry will last indefinitely. But it isn’t just food anymore, it’s nails and screws and fencing; it’s tools and water filters and a bicycle I don’t ride but might; it’s school supplies and larger sized clothes for Jacob; it’s twenty years of lamp wicks because they were on clearance for fifty cents.  This new, different approach evolved on its own as I became more aware of the world as a whole and what I mess I saw it in.  And now look at it, the country is ripped in half, literally, the east coast still drowning in seawater and sludge, and the supply lines are all but shut down.  Some things don’t change though; there are still nitwits who won’t listen.