We got our first practice run at living “off grid”, and by “off grid” I mean we had a generator, which earned us back our starlink and electricity, so we weren’t exactly roughing it. It snowed eight inches of the wettest, poofiest snow that can possibly fall out of the sky and still be called snow. It looked gorgeous, but the trees and powerlines weren’t fans. A branch took out the southeast corner of Jamie’s fence, but otherwise, we escaped unscathed. The powerline down the road didn’t fare so well. We spent most of the day without electricity which was kind of glorious except for the part where I didn’t get most of my to-do list done, but oh well. Who cares if we have judges or certificates for the Science Fair? On the flip side, we did get to help a neighbor with her generator, so hopefully she was impressed by the fact that we’re God-fearing folk and not the evil liberals some of our neighbors think we are…ahem. All good things must come to an end though, and now the power is on, life is “un-paused”, and my to-do list is twice as long. Jim and I now have a list of things to fix and tweak so next time we find ourselves in a power outage our generator should be able to dance, do the kids’ homework, and cook dinner as well as provide electricity.
After years of complaining that I hate breakfast, am nauseated by food too early in the morning, and definitely can’t be expected to eat the same thing every day as some people do… I finally found a breakfast I can stomach: Venison. My blood test results say I’m super anemic, so I’ve been trying to up my iron-rich foods, but never in my wildest dreams did I think venison would be the one food I can eat day after day after day for breakfast (even at 6:30 am). I think I’m on a three-week streak at the moment (although I should probably slow down if we’re going to ration the meat to last longer). I cook a big batch of it up at the beginning of the week and then heat it up in some broth every day for breakfast. If I’m feeling really fancy, I poach an egg or toss some potatoes in the soup.
It’s divine. Robbie tells me it’s my Viking roots coming out.