Hi. I want to write a blog about all the awesome things I grow and the animals I raise. I want to inspire you with my stories about making dandelion wine and lavender tea. I want to post about the goat cheese I make from my own goat milk. Oh, and about how I cloth diaper with the cotton I grow myself (organic, of course) and then spin it into cloth and then sew it into diapers. And, naturally, I have my own sheep herd from which I get my Angora covers. But I can’t do any of that. And yet in spite of, or maybe because of this (I do love a challenge) I want desperately to be a homesteader.
I want to eat my own foods that I’ve grown, make tea from my awesome herb garden, milk a cow in the morning, spin my own yarn, let some milk sit on the counter for too long and call it yogurt. (I see people online do this all the time; their milk actually becomes yogurt, I swear.) Sometimes my toddler’s sippy cup sits in our 95 degree bedroom for 36 hours and it looks just like cottage cheese, but smells much worse. Next time I should just take a bunch of pictures and post it as a recipe on Pinterest.
I am used to succeeding in life. I have a college degree, a great family, and I landed my absolute dream job at age 25. That’s when I left the dreary world of drugstore management and became a real housewife of Lake County. Now I am a mother of two and living in Little Rock proper.
We currently rent a 1970s split level in a residential setting on about ¼ acre. We dream of having acres in the country, but for now this is our home.
I am horrible at the following: gardening, preserving, sewing, knitting, all things animal related, handiwork, and generally making any sort of sacrifice in the name of quality over convenience. I stress out way too easily and also have a big procrastination problem (i.e. “I’ll water the tomatoes next week”). Oh, and I am also the poster woman for over confidence. I have absolutely no doubt in myself, which makes me very dangerous to plants and animals.
I rationally know that me + homesteading = very bad idea, but I just can’t help myself. I cannot stand not to attempt to accomplish my dreams, though I believe them to be a futile endeavor.