So there's a classic joke, repurposed for innumerable jobs and hobbies. It runs along these lines:

"Question: What does a blacksmith/farmer/glassworker do with a million dollars? Answer: Work 'til the money runs out."

And basically--uh. That's what we've done. When we moved here, we used equity from the old house, and withdrew an older 401K of my spouse's for downpayment and property improvement. And as we try to pull this place together and learn how to deal with it all and eventually make it financially stable, we've spent that down. And uhhhhhh it's gone. And we haven't reached any point of stability.

We don't yet have the sheep to a point where we can recoup feed and fencing costs through sales of wool/fleeces/lambs. We don't yet have the garden to a point where it reduces grocery costs. (Indeed, it still costs a great deal because it still requires substantial outside input.) The various trees will be years before they provide us any value. The chickens probably cost more than their eggs would, though their eggs are definitely better than we'd buy at the store. We don't produce any salable crops or added value products yet. The metal shop generally subsists on money the spouse makes with metal shop sales, which is a fantastic achievement I'm very proud of. On the other hand, the metal shop is essentially a second job for him, and he spends a huge amount of time and energy on it. My glass does not support itself, because I haven't put in enough effort, though it's clear that it could.

We also don't have most of those property improvements the 401K was supposedly for. Still have no permanent fencing. No equipment shed. No barn. No water points in the fields. No fucking dishwasher. At least we do have the tractor and a mower more or less adequate to the several acres of lawn we haven't ripped up yet.

The idea was certainly never to get rich off these things. It was to enjoy these things at a lower cost because we put in effort in place of money. But uh. We done run out of money and making up the difference is going to be a whole lot of effort.

So anyway I guess the moral is that being a first generation farmer is insanely fucking difficult and the economic reality is that even having a well-paying outside job can be insufficient to get started. We're gonna do it somehow anyway. But goddamn.

Like come on man

COME OOOOOOONNNN 😭🤤🧎🏻‍♀️

this actually means everything to me idc

I'm shorter than average, I'm thinner than average, my waistline is concave and people call me "tiny". There is no fucking reality in which an XL shirt should be too small, and yet,, in the hell reality where fabricating perceived flaws is a good thing,,, my thighs don't squeeze into the largest pant size in the store ♡

the makeup artists keeping freddy bloody throughout half of the season..... i love you

mr karlsson - off day 10/4/24

Newest drawing!! I will never not draw Ashley where I can

THEY REALLY PUT HIS ASS IN THE BATHROOMS

Late night's tryst

Went to the home improvement store yesterday because the wall I'd been painting got fucked up with bad paint. Was a more entertaining trip than my poor exhausted, heat addled brain expected.

So I ring for the paint area staffer, and wait. After a minute, she comes by, lugging three gallon cans of paint and looking harried.

"Is what you need simple?" she asks, trying to plan out her time.

"No," I say. "Not at all."

One of the kids flanking me snorts quietly.

Probably repressing the desire to sigh deeply, she asks for a minute to wrap up her current task, which of course is fine. Then we look at my paint and my photos of the bunged-up wall, and she arranges a refund, and we move on to the fixing what's already there part of the problem.

Sheet rock mesh, she says, and points it out. I reach for it, touch the surface, and immediately recoil with a noise of disgust. And this is where things diverge from expectation. I'd usually expect the associate to laugh it off or ignore it. But she's like, "Yeah, it's nasty. Got a bit of that sensory problem myself. Sandpaper, chalk boards..."

"Oh yeah!" I say, delighted to be seen. "My daughter and me both." My daughter gingerly pokes the mesh and shudders.

"I think it's because I'm a bit into the spectrum," she says.

"Sure, totally! ADHD on my end. Lot of overlap."

She nods, and shows me the grippy thing that will let me touch the atrociously aggressive sandpaper less.

We part ways, and I think about how two middle-aged people in a Lowe's can casually discuss their neurodivergence.

The sandpaper works. If the new paint does, too, we'll call that a total win.

"Can I be your friend too?"

idk. can you?? how toxic and messy can you be?? what's you opinion on threesomes??? would you get lasik for your bf? would you sleep with your friend's bf? how good is your phone camera??? would you kiss boeing? (it's actually non-negotiable, they all have. well cheum is lesbian. and they kicked out nick for that reason)

you tell me, can you???

you HATE maria? you say she isnt as good as mary? oh! oh! torment for james! psychological torment for james for One Thousand Years!!!!

who’s idea was it to have two of my favorite ever ships come back into our lives at the same time? WHO

Footloose is a present-day documentary.

Let the girl dance.

do you have to read about your culture and ancestors from documents by colonizers through 14 layers of prejudice, ignorance, and general muddling or are you lucky