A Tale of Woe and Poop

Last year, when winter first started, we had a major emergency at the farm house.

The sewer line backed up, a solid unmoving clog, down the septic line. When we first moved in, something similar had happened and the basement flooded then froze and could not be addressed until it unfroze. Now we know what to look for, what to smell for, what to do before it floods. Trust me when I say we take it seriously.

This dedication paid off- we caught it before the water met the spill line of the drain. So there was that. However, fixing the problem was more complicated. Sometimes we can flush a septic tab and all is well, sometimes pushing water all at once works, sometimes we have to rent the big snaker thing from the local hardware store.

None of those worked. I started calling Roto Rooter folks. Suddenly I was 15 phone calls in and this dawning horror of a suspicion descended......our county seemed to be off limits by contract, too far to drive, or xyz excuse for anyone in the septic or plumbing business to service. 30 calls in, I began to realise that my suspicion was in fact true.

I am not kidding.

At that point we were two days in of not being able to do dishes or laundry, including cloth diapers. Bathing was out of the question. Chad was showering while standing in a bucket bin thing and dumping it outside in the morning. We could flush each toilet exactly two times each day and the water level stayed safely not flooding.

On day two, it was an inconvenience. Until Holly started throwing up.

Day four my hair started turning grey and falling out and I was sobbing near constantly. Sounds dramatic?

Of all the tragic, horrific, unbearable things that have happened to me in my life time......day six of this septic issue was the one thing that stood a chance at murdering my resilience and breaking me. I have had three children cut from my body in emergency C-Sections, one without proper anaesthesia. Survived a septic blood infection from a ruptured appendix coupled with custodial neglect as a child.  Survived.

Let me tell you that I am not kidding when I say that this particular situation was so much worse. On day six the pipes froze and other things started that only my female friends can understand the horror of the timing of.

Like every other crisis in my life, when I reached that breaking point, unshowered and broken, I rallied. That's just in my blood. I needed someone to come out and fix this, or tell ME how to do it myself.I think I may have made a few vaguebook posts about sledge hammers and or power augers. I actually rented the power auger. The biggest one. I hauled it home in the back of my Volvo station wagon.

It didn't work.

I drew on the resources of a small town.

For those who don't know, the hardware stores are the social hub of folks who farm, fix, and know things. I called all three and asked for them to tell me who they would recommend (they sell folks the supplies, so they should know!) and the second question, who might know where the friggin septic tank was located. You see, the location of the tank and not just the type, was crucial and several folks I had already called said I needed to verify this before they would drive a pump truck out.

One and only one name was given to me. That one happened to be one I had already called, left a message on their machine, and six days later had not heard back from. I, of course called them again, but I also started calling local construction companies. It may or may not have been in my head that bulldozing the entire house to rubble was my only option.....and those who know my deep love for this farmhouse will know the depth of the horror we were at that point ankle deep in.

My next step was to go down to the local Hyvee at lunch time and stand near the buffet and ask really loudly if anyone knew anything about the Wells Pond Farmhouse Septic tank location. Folks down here cannot contain themselves when they have special knowledge and I knew that if anyone knew? They would tell me or find someone who would. It would be the social event of the day. We did not get to that point, however. I will keep it as a potential strategy of desperation if I ever need it.

Lucky for me Mr. Only Guy in Lucas County Allowed to Do Septic work finally called me back, perhaps due to social pressure? I don't know. That same day Chad rigged up hoses to drain grey water from the washing machines into rubbermaid bins and then out the second floor window and downhill to the ditch. Bonus, the same hoses could be used to drain the bathtub. We had switched to paper plates and Chad washing pots in a bucket too.

I was super excited to find out that this same guy installed the tank....30 years ago. Excited because 1)not the original 1900 system! and 2)HE KNEW THE LOCATION.

My panic washed away and drained to the road, I was more clearheaded. Mr. Septic Guy said he'd be right out.

Five days later? Still not at our farm. I called and asked when I might expect someone, anyone?
* FYI I survived those next five days because once we had the grey water situation figured out, normality and even a sense of purposeful adventure set in. Plus, I threw away the set of sheets that was vomited on, and could finally wash all the other bedding and towels.

The septic company secretary, when she called me back, sympathized and said she would send a sub contractor. Then she added something I only wish I could leave out, but for purposes of making this account accurate I cannot.....It is probably just rats in the drain, honey. That used to happen there, it is an easy fix if we can reach the nest.

Let me summarise what she said, just so you can understand the horror. Rats. Plural. In the drain that goes into my house and has open access in my basement while we monitor water levels. Rats. NEST OF RATS. 

(to be continued)
(Oh yes, I did.)

February 1st

This month is going to be crazy beautiful amazing and busy. February always is intense, being the "Hungry Moon" when we see a peak in coyote predation and injuries, a series of severe ice and snow storms, high winds, and ice damage, and usually illness strikes our home in some form.

Usually. Let's not this year. Coyotes will now have to contend with a mature Pyrenees livestock guardian dog. We can deal with whatever weather Iowa can throw at us. Illness can wait. I can only pray that it can hold off until I return from the East Coast, though I know the stress  of my absence. will lower the children's immune function, we can only hold the line with healthy food, good sleep, and good hygiene.

Maple season is just around the corner and we will be drunk on sap and sugaring. The steam from the boil will stiffen our pores and hair and clothes and be the sweetness of our song. That heralds Spring for us.

I have several things I am writing about, soon to polish up and publish here and some to publish there. Things that I am excited about, proud of, and writing for pure joy of playing with words and landscapes.

I am grateful for friends and family. Especially the cheering section that greets me daily with encouragement and kindness. I am also grateful for something called a Megabus. More on that in a bit.

So into February we adventure on. February we stand in the lingering darkness of winter, dreaming of sunshine and green things. We let the memories of soft rains and gentle green things pushing up lullaby us to sleep while the wind still howls and fiercely bites, knowing that warmth and strawberries and picnics and playing outside all day until we are muddy and exhausted and happy are on the way, waiting for us, waiting for the earth to turn once again into this season.

Cheers and good times, y'all!

The Kindness Protocol

Today, a name for what I often offer as advise to my friends came to me.

The Kindness Protocol. 

What is this? How does it work? Why would you think of that?

It stems from this post I wrote around the holidays, which came about because of something another friend was doing, which she had heard about from another friend, and so on......

It is Mercy in a Ziploc, but on a smaller more personal scale.

So say you are having a really bad day. I mean like your babies diaper exploded all over your new boots and couch, while you cleaned it up your lunch caught on fire, your best friend called and you were rude to her and she decided never to speak to you ever again because she's sick of your shit, and then your favourite aunt dies, your car won't start, and your checking account is at -6$ with payday 7 days away and no milk in the fridge.

Friend, many of us have had days like this.

It is easy to get online and pick fights or say "It must be nice" to someone who had a good day and start the bringing them down too cycle, because it spreads like a viral plague, and leaves no one unsullied.

If you let it.

So, when a friend listed off her mindblowingly bad day and then asked.....What do I do now? That is when the Kindness Protocol was born.

It goes something like this:

1)Start small. Go to 5 friends' facebook walls and tell them how much they mean to you, what you like about them, why you are grateful for their friendship.
2) Do it again.
3) Make a meal for someone you know, for no reason, and bring it to them. Or cookies. Cookies work.
4) Make a list of nice things you could do for people in the next week.
5) Do them.
6) Ask people about their lives, not just how are you? but how is xyz going for you? 
7) Call someone you miss and tell them that.
8) Hold the door open for others.
9) Pay for a stranger's coffee.
10) Make an effort to say/do/be kinder when folks are having a rough day and are outwardly rude. They need grace, love, kindness more at that moment.
11) Push a kid on a swing, blow bubbles for a baby, read a book to a toddler. 

*Listen when someone starts to share what is on their heart.
*Pay attention to people around you. Start seeing their suffering. Be the person that brings calm instead of adding to the pile. Even if you are just as broken, this effort will turn others to you as well. 

You get the idea? You can take a friend out to lunch. You can send someone a post card, just because, you can do all sorts of small things with great love that make a huge impact.

You know what? These things come back to you, when you are kind, when you make the world better by your own actions and words and deeds and self.......people reflect it back on you and are there for you when you need it. This is how community is built, this is how we can begin to heal.

This is the Kindness Protocol.
It works. It makes the world a little better instead of worse.

This Otherness is My Superpower

Most people don't know.  I am a mermaid.

No not really.

I have gone my whole life feeling like I was not in this world, that I was alien, something too different to belong here.

Longing to be back in the water, wondering if I'd feel more at home there. Wondering if I was meant to be on dry land or if it was all a mistake. (Hey, no freaking out, just a metaphor...)

I get sensory overload. I get panic attacks when things change in a visual way and I am not expecting it. I cannot deal with large noisy crowds.

Sometimes I zone out. Sometimes I lose a chunk of time to daydreaming or just lose it to nothingness.

I hear all the background noise that others zone out and can't hear. All of it. Every appliance buzz, every light fixture. Every beetle click. Living in the city was so very hard.

Sometimes I can't sleep. I stay up playing over and over in my head things I wish I would have said or done. Undo social mistakes. Sometimes I wish I knew how to be a friend or how not to say just the wrong harsh thing at the wrong time. I wish my apologies would be accepted.

I get overwhelmed.

I sensory seek to cancel out. I run my hands under water to calm down.

I crank up music. I dance. I write. Then I hide it all.

When I burst into tears in the cheese aisle because Hy-vee has just remodelled and moved everything and the lighting is super bright and the new freezer cases are LOUD....I just feel like a failure. What is worse is someone seeing it. What is her problem, she can't find cheese?

I hold it together, moderate drama, softly soothe broken hearts, and generally know a lot about a lot of things....but I am not always put together and solid. I hate that about myself. I hate that I have this overwhelmingness that happens.

So when the man of steel locks himself in a closet in grade school? I get that. I used to hide in my own closet or under my own bed to try and make the world smaller. I try to practise and plan and make the world the kind of world I can be in.  I notice details though that others don't and sometimes that is just too overwhelming.

Somewhere along the line I realised that I can actually be different, this otherness is my own superpower. So, my apologies to the kind folks in the cheese aisle last year, I will get the hang of the new layout. I go in the mornings, and I almost have a comfort zone about it now.

Just know. Just know. Being different isn't something to be ashamed of, to medicate away, to pretend isn't part of my life.

My life is beautiful and overwhelming and wonderful and just big enough for now. I will continue to try and make it a world I can live in.

I began to understand this more as I have raised three children who are also experiencing this great big world and all of its beauty and noise and structures.

So, friends, be patient with each other, be gentle, be kind. Apologise when you can. Make this world better and not bigger.