I know I haven't been keeping up with posting. Sometimes I feel like there's nothing to say, and sometimes I feel too shell-shocked to say anything.
Three days ago, I rode my bike out to a local poultry farm over in Hatfield, hoping to get some eggs. They were sold out. "Sold out? How can you be sold out?"
"Look, chickens aren't magical, you know, it's not like you can just wish up some eggs from 'em."
And so I tried riding down to Merrymead, the dairy. It isn't far from town--in fact, it's halfway between my place and my parents down in Worcester. There was a line when I got there--people are panic-buying, hoarding whatever food they can. I admit, I'm trying to do that too, but you can't really hoard dairy or eggs--they go bad quickly.
"Half-gallon of 2%, please."
"Seven dollars."
I didn't know what to say.
"Seven dollars?"
"Look, you wanna go somewhere else? They'll probably charge you ten."
"For a half-gallon?"
"You think it's cheap to run a farm?"
I know how expensive it can be, though not in the sense they mean.
A few tomatoes and squash had started coming in two days ago--small, of course, not ripe yet.
Yesterday morning, they were gone. Picked off, presumably eaten.
This is my food. I planted it, I'm going to harvest it.
So.
So I got a shotgun. I just want to scare the thieves, I don't want to shoot them. I can't really blame anyone who's hungry for stealing, but they're taking food out of our mouthes.
So tonight, I'm sleeping on a cot in the mudroom. I've hooked up the motion sensors, and if they go off, I'll be right there to scare them away.
I hope.
You know, I'm not anti-gun, but I've never wanted to own one. At least not until now.
God, I just wish this would be over.
In other news, I haven't heard from Kate for a couple of days. I don't like it--I don't know what's going on with her right now, and I'm worried. I offered her the spare bedroom, but she still won't take it.
I just don't know what to do.
Showing posts with label shortages. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shortages. Show all posts
Friday, August 10, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Week 8: Wither Canada?
My husband is part French Canadian. He doesn't actually know his French Canadian grandmother--she died before he was born. But he's been to Canada, and attributes his love of hockey to being part Canadian. And a Philadelphian in the 1970s (Go Flyers!).
Of course, his 13 hours in Canada consisted of having his truck broken into and stealing his birth certificate. It's a long story.
So hearing that we've invaded Canada, his first response is, "First we stole Wayne Gretzky... They won't like that."
So much for the longest peaceful border in the world.
They're talking about rationing, but no one seems able to get off their asses and get it started. My stepfather lived through the Depression and WWII--he remembers rationing. It can be done, it can even be orderly. But these days we're too goddamn stupid, greedy, and lazy to do it right.
We can be just as bad, Den and I. We want chips, we buy chips. We want pizza, we buy pizza. It's hard to break the habit. I've never thought of myself as an addict, but the idea of rationing just shows how addictive "freedom" is. I can't say that buying pizza whenever you want it is actual freedom--I don't know what it is. Middle class, I guess. But just that one little encroachment--"no, you can't gorge yourself anymore, you have to share with everyone"--is still hard for me to grok.
God, I'm hungry just thinking about it.
The garden is doing well. After a cold, rainy spring (with snow in April--I'm still bitter), June's been pretty good. The tomatoes and peppers are coming in OK. Haven't seen signs of the potatoes, and I hope the squirrels didn't eat them.
I know I need to learn how to can. Again, I'll be asking my stepfather. I feel lucky, knowing someone that connected to the past.
One last thing regarding shortages--I've been skipping some of my doses, so that I can slowly stockpile my meds. I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but if I can't get them normally, at least I'll have a small supply to ween myself off of them. You know, if it gets desperate.
Of course, his 13 hours in Canada consisted of having his truck broken into and stealing his birth certificate. It's a long story.
So hearing that we've invaded Canada, his first response is, "First we stole Wayne Gretzky... They won't like that."
So much for the longest peaceful border in the world.
They're talking about rationing, but no one seems able to get off their asses and get it started. My stepfather lived through the Depression and WWII--he remembers rationing. It can be done, it can even be orderly. But these days we're too goddamn stupid, greedy, and lazy to do it right.
We can be just as bad, Den and I. We want chips, we buy chips. We want pizza, we buy pizza. It's hard to break the habit. I've never thought of myself as an addict, but the idea of rationing just shows how addictive "freedom" is. I can't say that buying pizza whenever you want it is actual freedom--I don't know what it is. Middle class, I guess. But just that one little encroachment--"no, you can't gorge yourself anymore, you have to share with everyone"--is still hard for me to grok.
God, I'm hungry just thinking about it.
The garden is doing well. After a cold, rainy spring (with snow in April--I'm still bitter), June's been pretty good. The tomatoes and peppers are coming in OK. Haven't seen signs of the potatoes, and I hope the squirrels didn't eat them.
I know I need to learn how to can. Again, I'll be asking my stepfather. I feel lucky, knowing someone that connected to the past.
One last thing regarding shortages--I've been skipping some of my doses, so that I can slowly stockpile my meds. I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but if I can't get them normally, at least I'll have a small supply to ween myself off of them. You know, if it gets desperate.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Week 7: Standin on the Corner, Waitin for the Bus
Say hey mister driver man
Don't be slow
Cause I got somewhere I got to go...
I don't know whether Septa is a boon or a curse. (I also don't know why I just used "boon" or "curse", but I think I should put down the damn fantasy books for a while.) Septa is notoriously badly managed--every two years or so they talk about funding shortfalls and rate hikes. I can't help but wonder where all the money is going, and I know I'm not the only one.
But having said that, Septa is all we've got. We need it--especially now. Since the crisis, Septa's been adding more buses and trolleys, and running the trains more frequently, but as Baltpiker points out, there's a labor shortage. We need more drivers.
And we need more trolleys. Having more buses on the road is good, but it's temporary. The oil is drying up. The LA Times said that there's no way to avoid fuel shortages now. So what good is a bus when you can't run it?
And that brings me to our problem. Den and I are stuck in Lansdale, and have to get to work in Horsham. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, since Lansdale and Horsham are both right on Rt. 63--a straight shot. But there isn't a busline that goes down 63 from Lansdale to, say, Willow Grove (which is east of Horsham). The easiest way to get from Lansdale to Horsham is to take the R5 to Glenside, and the 22 bus up to Horsham. It's like taking the wrong sides of a triangle when you could just take one leg. The trip is theoretically over an hour one way--which, granted, could be worse, and often is, with the trains and buses being overcrowded.
I shouldn't have quit my job at Temple. An easy train ride down the R5, and I'd be at work in 45 minutes at the most. But no--I had to quit. I had to get away from my weaselly little boss. It sounded like a good idea at the time...
If the fuel runs out... Look, in Pennsylvania we're kinda lucky, because there are a lot of farms. Dairies, vegetables, poultry, we've got it. But do we have enough? Is everyone gonna descend on the farmers' markets this weekend? And a lot of stuff, a lot of vegetables, aren't even in yet and won't be until July or August.
The good news--and there is good news--is that Den finally got to pick up a bike. We were gouged on it, of course--$300 for a used Cranbrook. But I don't see an alternative.
Don't be slow
Cause I got somewhere I got to go...
I don't know whether Septa is a boon or a curse. (I also don't know why I just used "boon" or "curse", but I think I should put down the damn fantasy books for a while.) Septa is notoriously badly managed--every two years or so they talk about funding shortfalls and rate hikes. I can't help but wonder where all the money is going, and I know I'm not the only one.
But having said that, Septa is all we've got. We need it--especially now. Since the crisis, Septa's been adding more buses and trolleys, and running the trains more frequently, but as Baltpiker points out, there's a labor shortage. We need more drivers.
And we need more trolleys. Having more buses on the road is good, but it's temporary. The oil is drying up. The LA Times said that there's no way to avoid fuel shortages now. So what good is a bus when you can't run it?
And that brings me to our problem. Den and I are stuck in Lansdale, and have to get to work in Horsham. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, since Lansdale and Horsham are both right on Rt. 63--a straight shot. But there isn't a busline that goes down 63 from Lansdale to, say, Willow Grove (which is east of Horsham). The easiest way to get from Lansdale to Horsham is to take the R5 to Glenside, and the 22 bus up to Horsham. It's like taking the wrong sides of a triangle when you could just take one leg. The trip is theoretically over an hour one way--which, granted, could be worse, and often is, with the trains and buses being overcrowded.
I shouldn't have quit my job at Temple. An easy train ride down the R5, and I'd be at work in 45 minutes at the most. But no--I had to quit. I had to get away from my weaselly little boss. It sounded like a good idea at the time...
If the fuel runs out... Look, in Pennsylvania we're kinda lucky, because there are a lot of farms. Dairies, vegetables, poultry, we've got it. But do we have enough? Is everyone gonna descend on the farmers' markets this weekend? And a lot of stuff, a lot of vegetables, aren't even in yet and won't be until July or August.
The good news--and there is good news--is that Den finally got to pick up a bike. We were gouged on it, of course--$300 for a used Cranbrook. But I don't see an alternative.
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