Week Thirteen - April 2

We are half way there!

To celebrate we had a family outing over Easter. Throwing caution to the wind we donned our trusty head gear, and set out on our bikes for an extended uphill excursion. Ten kilometres across footpath free bridges, fast town traffic, busy roads and fear barriers miles high. We visited friends, went to the town library and borrowed a wheelbarrow full of books and videos (read, aching back) and journeyed home through as many side streets as we could while dodging large trucks. It was great fun. Caleb and Trev rode on my bike, and I used the electric bike. This way I arrived looking remarkably serene, while Trev arrived in a lather.

We've decided to do it more often. I can see why a hundred years ago the chances are you'd marry someone within a mile radius.

We also decided that Caleb, having achieved the half way mark, should be rewarded with a few treats now and then. He asked yesterday with heart rending patience. "If I do this, and do a good job, could I have a little goodie?" So while Trev and I vow to watch on in silent angst. There will be the occasional goodie, not of course to be confused with Bill Oddie.

We flew past the Feb/Mar finish line with a new lowest rainfall record. 21 mm for February and 28mm for March. 7000 litres in the tank and all is ….well, not that great really.

Now I'll pass the mic over to Trev…

Halfway. In the Moment of Struth timescale, that's about 1.2 years. Let me explain. January lasted, in your time, 1 month. In our time, it was more like a year. Likewise February, which for us lasted 18 months or so, March nearly 4 years (its an exponential relationship), and its been calculated that April could go on for as long as 6 or 7 years. By the time six months is up, you will have hardly noticed it. We will have aged horribly.

At this point some of you may be thinking that I'm not having much fun with the whole dollar free thing, and, to a certain extent you'd be right. But not for any reasons other than those of self-indulgence. This is not to say, as Linda sometimes assumes, that I think we in any way lack variety, or that what she provides is inferior. Far from it, although a beer would be good, and I'd just about chew your arm off for a lamb roast (although if I chewed your arm off, I probably wouldn't need…) any way, the point is that the thing I find the hardest is the curtailment itself. I would never have stopped at KFC on the way home for a bucket of chips, but now I'm not allowed, I want to. And there's a whole range of similar temptations, things I would never ordinarily do or want, like bungee jumping, or synchronized swimming that now, because I can't indulge…well, you get the picture. A gilded cage is still a cage. (I was joking about the synchronized swimming).

Perhaps I shouldn't give the impression that nothing about our holiday (as we so euphemistically like to call it) has been fun. Breaking the record for the driest February and March combination on record was a highlight, as was the time the goat got crook and we thought she was going to die. Or that the chooks have chosen this year to throw off the imperialistic yolk and stop laying eggs. Ditto for half the fruit trees. (I know trees don't lay eggs, use your powers of assumption) A real hoot.

But make no mistake. If I didn't believe that what we're doing is not only the right thing to do, but may in some respects (eg solar hot water, water tanks) be something we will shortly be compelled to do, I wouldn't be doing it

It's also wonderful with respect to the old cliché of "the family that (insert activity here) stays together. We work in the garden together, we discuss the pros and cons of the whole thing together (Caleb often speaks of how we "don't want to fail our six months") We biked the 10 km or so round trip to the library, with a social call at Margeurite's on the way, which was a lot of fun and not something we would do if we had the car.

Which leads me to another obvious advantage. I ride the bike to work everyday, (electric, granted, but you can choose how hard you pedal, and the nature of the beast seems to be the longer you ride it, the harder you choose to pedal) I eat little fat and drink no beer, all of which combines to make me lighter and fitter than I've been in many years.

I look upon the project as an adventure and, like any adventure, the satisfaction is not always in the journey, but the achievement. Ask an endurance adventurer, or a climber of Everest what they enjoyed- the hauling of the weary body up (and down) the bloody great mountain, or the planting of the flag at the summit. I know what the answer is for me.



Week Fourteen - April 9

100 days done, 81 to go.

Contemplated performing the Heimlich manoeuvre with Possum this week, when she managed to get a piece of pumpkin stuck down the back of her throat. Heard her roaring and gagging, looked over the verandah railing and saw her tossing her head violently from side to side, staggering, throwing herself to the ground, hitting her head against posts. In the pen with her I could see her problem but doubted she would let me put my fingers in and haul it out without removing a few in the process. I grabbed hold of her beard and pulled it down for a better look, but she was off, and into her housing where she was bashing her head and gagging. I looked around for a stick, and realised that Trev had cleaned them all out just the day before. Finally with one located, I cornered her in her house, shoved her against the wall, grabbed a horn, prised open her jaws and levered the pumpkin forward to where she could manage it herself, whereupon she spat it out, staggered, wheezing out the door and back to the rest of the pumpkin. And I, I emerged my own personal hero. (no one else hails me as one) - I've come a long way since the days I was terrified of getting dirt under my fingernails.

It's been mizzling most of the week. Trev introduced me to the Scottish term which best describes our 'rainfall'. - Halfway between a mist and a drizzle. We managed 16mm over the week. Which, while welcome, is something I have a few things to whinge about anyway. It was overcast all week, nearly a record power producing low, plus the water heat fizzled away into lukewarm by the end of the week, and not a great deal extra in the tank for it as most of it either evaporated before it got to the tanks or was considered first flush which is diverted off.

For the next three months we've decided to barter our produce in exchange for dollars. This way we can go for a fortnightly visit to the supermarket in a family adventure, incorporating a library visit, a social visit and one hell of a lot of exercise. Apart from this it will mean someone else will not be incurring co2 emissions on our behalf to deliver it to us, and heck I've been at home now for three months, I need the time away!

We did this on Saturday and I and the electric bike ended up carting home over 11kg of flour and sugar on my back, 4kg of potatoes, 2 kg of apples, 1 of grapes, plus another jar of vegemite and 10 kg of books in the bikes basket. On the way over the bridge with an impatient 4WD behind me, I worried that one of the straps on the back pack might break envisioning the mess that amount of flour and sugar would make. Trev had Caleb on the back of my bike and veins sticking out the side of his neck.

We're eating garlic buttered Jerusalem artichokes for dinner and contemplating something with fresh water chestnuts in it tomorrow.

Due to the decision 6 weeks ago, to water like hell and plant like crazy, regardless of how much water we have left, we should be inundated with food by the time we finish!

Week Fifteen - 16 April

So far we've had 44mm this month, things are perking up their heads in the garden, though the moment the snails have they've been picked up, thrown in a bucket. Trev and Cal have been bonding in the garden, late at night armed with a bucket, a torch and a cast iron stomach. I watch their torches bobbing in the garden and I can hear them giggling while Trev removes the odd cane toad from the path. The snails will be Trev's dinner tonight. Which will make it two meaty meals for him this week as he managed another work night away.

The latest revelation has been that autumn in the garden is a peaceful time, I'm probably spending only 20 hours a week either harvesting, planting, weeding or watering. Lemons and limes galore. Every time I heat up the oven in go another lot of lemon meringue pies. Not that Caleb will eat them. Which pretty much could be used as a suffix for any given meal.



Received an unexpected and gorgeous book in the mail, a real treat, as my book buying fetish has been been seriously curtailed. Drooling over the beautiful pics. Trev stands nervously behind me while I tease him with sentences beginning with, 'When we build our own house from scratch…"

Sticks, Stones, Mud Homes By Nigel Noyes Sticks, Stones, Mud Homes is a book about eco-friendly living, founded on the principles of minimal impact and sustainable practices. The buildings in the book are designed to conserve energy, to create new life from old, and employ good recycling practices that work in with the environment. With ingenuity, determination and a new aesthetic sensibility, seemingly unconventional materials can often be adapted to building in some way. The houses featured are made from rammed earth, baled straw and mudbricks, from salvaged material, recycled timber and stone, and from tin and other inexpensive contemporary materials. RRP $59.95 hardback Hardie Grant Publishing

Week Sixteen - 23 April 2005

We're starting a new experiment within the experiment. Caleb started home schooling last week. It's been something he's wanted to do ever since he first heard of the concept. That was sometime during the second week of school. And some mornings when I'm chasing him up the road trying to get him on the back of the bike to get to school I have wondered if it wouldn't be easier. It is. It was more of a spur of the moment decision. He'd had bleeding noses during the weekend, one during the night, and he'd woken tired and pleading to stay at home. I told him he could, then added he'd have to do school at home though. "Sure thing". We converted the verandah into a sunny school room, and spent three hours doing school things. He loved it. That night Trev and I decided to extend the experiment for a week to see if the novelty wore off. It didn't. Decision time meant a few phone calls to see what the procedure was to do this officially. We've started the process and gone into the school and talked to the Principal who was very supportive, and Caleb said goodbye to his classmates amid hugs, hand shakes and exchanges of phone numbers. "You're so lucky" they murmur. We're setting up a webpage for him to show off his endeavours.

Social contact you say? The following afternoon we invited a school friend over, this has been an ongoing arrangement since last year. However the party was crashed by four other children and there was mayhem with six of them running all over the block with sticks and pretend guns, balls and my calls of "Only two on the trampoline at one time, and don't try and bounce each other off!", and giggles that sometimes escalated into sounds astonishingly reminiscent of shrieks of anguish. I spent most of my time going into unexpected pauses with head cocked to one side trying to discern the difference. I would have fed and watered the marauders if I could have kept them still and in the one place for longer than three seconds. "Get off the water tanks, NOW!"

Caleb will have plenty of opportunity for peer interaction, pressure and the chance to exchange various bacteria and viral infections, which we have succumbed to since with a whopping stomach bug that everyone had a fortnight ago and we'd thought we'd escaped. Read two days in bed groaning.

On the rain front, we've had some. 19 mm this week, and in only two rain events rather than twenty. The garden is reviving nicely. It has been overcast for so long now we doubt we will ever catch up with our summer power deficit.

Trev is enjoying the rainfall for the added snail harvest, he's gearing up for another rubbery meal this weekend. Caleb and I oblige on the snail seeking sideline, but neither of us have, or will, succumb to the lures of a not-so-long-ago-just-a-shell- covered-ball-of-mucous meal.

Dare I say it, the lures of consumer society are falling away. Not often do I find myself dreaming of big budget shopping trips, or even the smallest of trifles, toilet paper included. Every time we've busted out over the almost four months we've realised that the joy is only ever fleeting, and somehow feels hollow compared to our expectations. However the joy of eating out of the garden, even under such poor conditions as we've had, have had greater longevity on the gratification stakes. While we have bought a few edible extras over the period we haven't bought anything else (exceptions made for school expenses), and can't imagine what we could have thought to buy in our nearly weekly hardware store trips. This weekend we had bartered up a grand total of $38.50 to spend in the supermarket. We got to $24 (walking around the supermarket with calculator in hand is not a good look) and had to think hard about what we could spend the remainder on.

Everytime I look at the current mortgage balance I consider making this not so objectionable lifestyle habit permanent once our six months is over and we've had a good blow out.

Heck. Maybe I should consult with Trev before making such rash comments. Nah :-)

Trev's sought after comment:

She will, of course. I'd have to think long and hard, but I intend to have such a good blow-out when this is over, that I'll need to do it all again.


Week Seventeen - April 30

Last day of April, which went so fast we're still spinning. Time seems to be getting back to normal after the first three centuries of the experiment are over.

We've just arrived home after our weekend jaunt on the bikes. Caleb, after an agonising four months, has saved enough money for a Bionicle. He was fifty cents short last night and insisting on doing the dishes while perched precariously on the side of the bench and doing dangerous high dive dish drops. I tried everything to entice him away and ended up paying him fifty cents NOT to do the dishes. Something he finds incredible and is still raving on about. Last night he went to bed ten times, jumping up every five seconds to tell us something else about the soon to be latest acquisition.
"I'm just TOO excited to sleep - my first Bionicle in FOUR months!"

I was excited too, just the thrill of the ride kind of stuff, scoring a good DVD to watch from the library, access to books and $12 to spend in the supermarket. We also managed a social detour to the soccer grounds where every parent we know seemed to be within ten metres radius. Caleb was busy sharing his latest prize while we basked in multitudes of comments about our weight loss. "I've lost 8% of my total body weight" I gloat, "Trev has lost 9.5%", which is a great way to say how much without saying exactly how much and having to state your current weight, which, after a certain age and rump size, becomes untenable.

Nearly an inch of rain has topped up the tank and given the garden a reasonable soak. This may well be why time has been kick started. Our spirits have risen while the rain fell.

Trev has been experimenting with making potato crisps, and ended up with a fair approximation visually and orally. As a special end of the month treat; getting towards being on the home straight; slack off, we also shared a bottle of that dark bubbly stuff between us, while Caleb had a chocolate (cows booby milk) shake. I haven't even experienced an addictive twinge in months, and seem content enough to drink water or one of the herbal teabags that have been gathering dust in the back of the cupboard for the last five years.



And we're saving money. I don't mention it often because people tend to think that is why we are doing it, and that's really only a very nice side effect. This is about the environment and enriching each other's lives within our family unit, and of course repeating incessantly to all those poor souls who cross our paths, "You too could feel this great! It's not just saving money folks, no, it's much more than that! Roll up, roll up, see the wacky greenies lose weight, reduce their CO2 emissions, and discover 53 ways to eat pumpkin!"

It would only take another three inches of rain … nirvana. Maybe I'll just go on another near vertical bike ride and settle for a good whack of endorphins.



Cooking artichokes - soon to be what is affectionately termed, 'fart soup'.