The Clowns are Here
We have been entertained by the antics of the Stellar jays this weekend. I put some scratch grains out on the platform bird feeder by the chicken coop. Three of them were arguing over who owned that territory:
I saw a fourth one in the trees, but I think it was too intimidated to come down and eat. The jays are only here for a couple of weeks, although the husband opined that these three might get too fat to fly anywhere.
We butchered chickens yesterday morning. Butchering is never fun, but it has to be done, so we do it as efficiently as possible. The husband and I were up early getting everything in place. Our former pastor, Jeryl, came to help, as he always does. Tera’s husband brought five of their chickens. Elysian came over with eight of her birds. We did 14 of our own. It took us two hours to process all 27. We worked in a light drizzle, which was less than ideal, but better than working on a hot day.
Our chickens are resting in the fridge in the old garage. I follow Nicole Sauce’s advice to allow them to sit for a day or two before sealing them in freezer bags. That way, they go through rigor mortis and are much more tender when cooked.
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In this week’s episode of “Can You Fix This?” I had to repair a pocket on one of the husband’s hoodies:
I cut off what was left of this pocket and sewed on a replacement. The fix is not pretty, but it’s functional.
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People constantly ask me how I get so much done. The topic of productivity also came up in the homesteading chat group this week, so I’ve been pondering some thoughts while I work.
I have been allotted the same number of hours, minutes, and seconds in the day as everyone else. Believe me, I wish I had more—I could get more done. But here are my cheat codes. These work for me. Your mileage may vary.
I am married to someone who likes to work. People ask me if he ever relaxes and I joke that he relaxes by watching other people work. I am also a bit competitive. He will tell you that it’s not a competition to see who gets more done, although I suspect that if I were married to someone slightly less ambitious, I might ratchet my production back a bit. I do not see this competition as a bad thing. I appreciate the motivation that comes with being married to someone who works hard.
I live by the monthly color-coded calendar that sits on my desk right in front of my computer. I am always looking ahead—by a day, a week, a month—to see what is coming down the pike. I don’t want to be surprised when I suddenly remember, with two hours to go, that I offered to make soup for our dinner meeting at church. I took the sausage for the soup out of the freezer on Friday afternoon so it could thaw overnight in the fridge. I browned it yesterday morning while I was cooking breakfast, then put the soup together to simmer all afternoon once we were done with chickens. (It was very good soup, by the way.) I put beans to soak yesterday so they would be ready for canning this afternoon. I try to be as proactive with my schedule as I can.
I multitask. I know there are “experts” out there who will tell you that multitasking is impossible, or that it consists of doing many things badly at the same time. I think all of those experts are men. I think women, by their natures, are constantly multitasking. The husband asked me yesterday morning how women can get together in a group and sew, like at a retreat. He wondered how anything gets done. I told him he doesn’t understand because he’s not a woman.
Organize, organize, organize. Systems, systems, systems. I use my canning supplies all year, so they are kept in an easily-accessible location in the basement. If I’m avoiding a task because it takes too long to locate all the needed supplies or because of some other bottleneck, that’s a sure sign I need a better system. And I make lists. Lots of lists.
This one is a not a cheat code I’d recommend, but almost dying (twice) does tend to put time into perspective. I am grateful for the time I have and I don’t want to waste it.
My work habits have been honed over a lifetime, so I don’t even think about them much anymore. Maybe it’s discipline. Maybe it’s enjoyment and satisfaction from seeing a job through to completion. Maybe it’s excess energy. Whatever it is, this is how I am and I don’t intend to change.