Back in Black (and gray, and brown, and green, and turquoise and white and. . .)

So I'm back.

I've been hiding a little bit, hoping and praying that my life wouldn't implode. No guarantees there, but we can but hope.

We have a cabin. A solar cabin. It's using propane heat for now, but I'll try to change that as time goes on. This is Day 3 of living in the cabin.

Day 1, we had a sudden blizzard. That was great. I stayed home, and hoped and wished my husband would come home, or would have gotten a hotel. But of course, out of any cell phone range, there was no way for me to know which it was (or if he was lying dead on the side of the road), I waited by the window for him to come home.

Thankfully, he did. I was ready to give up the cabin right then and there: it isn't worth killing my husband to live (mostly) off-grid. But he's game to keep going. So we stayed.

Later, the generator ran out of gas and we froze our asses off for the three or four hours we got to sleep. The wind seems liable to break down all the trees, so whenever I woke up, I watched the trees sway. He couldn't drive up the road to our house, so we had to walk a mile to the car at 4am in the same blizzard to get to work. It was beautiful down off the mountain.

Of course, I forgot my computer.

Day 2
We made it through work, awake most of the time. We got into Boulder and our tire went flat. Not just flat; shredded. Steel threads poking through everywhere. How this managed not to happen on the rocks, on the twisty roads, on the highway, I do not know. I do not want to think about it.

We got extra gas, so we could plug in our electric heater. We left the attic stairs down so the heat from the propane heater could keep us warm. Nice, toasty night: lesson learned.

EXCEPT. We left some meat outside to keep it cool, and a neighbor's dog ate it. I know it was a dog and not a bear because the dog left the strawberries, and a bear would have eaten them. Plus, I didn't see any bear tracks.

We found a great pizza place, though.

Day 3--today. The drive in was nice and dry. We could drive up the road next to ours, so we're happy about that. I showed hubby the sink in the "bathroom" so he could wash his hands.  We found out that the place gets messy REALLY fast: one night of not picking up clothes, or garbage, or anything else. One day of tracking in snow, and the whole place looks dirty.

We're adjusting to the new routine, I think. Starting to remember all of the projects we want to do. It's raining in a couple of days, so I want to make sure I get the blue water containers open and collecting rain for wash water. We have several gallons of drinking water. And, of course, the composting toilet does not use water. I need to take pictures and make some short videos, because I know a lot of people are curious.

We still aren't sleeping very well, or getting home early enough. We learned our lesson about getting home before dark (when possible), because of sudden snowstorms, but we haven't managed to develop a good routine. Because we can't really shower at home, we're going to be joining a gym, I think. I'm going to shower at home tonight, anyway, because I have my methods :-)

There are a lot of real-life bits that I am assiduously avoiding. It sucks. I need to just get them done and stop being so afraid. Bill-paying, and talking to official people, are the things that scare me the most.

Selling My Soul

In order to work for Corporate America, I have to sell my soul.

The archetypal Devil appears before me (he always looks like a red, horned version of my father--is that weird?): His goatee splits into a wide grin.  His clawed hands hold a nefarious blue pen (I don't like black ink). His other hand holds a scroll, which he unravels with a flourish.

"Sign here," he says to me. "if you DARE. . .bwah ha ha ha."

And I, like the little lost girl in just about every movie with a Devil in it, lean over and scrawl my name onto the parchment.

The ink flashes; it sears the parchment. when my eyes clear, I see my name has been burned into the document.

Manacles snake out from the floor. They close on my wrists, pull me down into a sitting position. They press my hands to a keyboard. Grey padded walls loom up around me. Industrial berber carpet slides in under my feet.  I scream: "No-o-o. . ."

Yeah, that's how it is.  I have a day job "greenwashing". Greenwashing is like whitewashing a business with an environmentally-friendly sheen, when the rest of the company works to turn valuable resources into products that you don't need that it can sell you. I find loopholes. I find ways that well-intentioned environmental rules should not apply to a company. I gather compliance information when we can't get out from under a regulation, but only after I have thought up every conceivable way it might not apply.

And I'm damn good at it.

I drive to work, either in our car or on the moped. I'm working on the electric bike so I can ride my bike to work, but right now the hills are too damn steep for me to ride up.

I buy clothes so I can look decent at my job.

I spend hours in front of the TV, trying not to wish my life away one workweek at a time.

Yes, I also work on this blog, and several others. I'm actively growing our new businesses. I'm actively working on our careers. But most of the time, I'm living a lie in the corporate world. I'm pretending that I want to get ahead in the rat race. I'm pretending I give a shit. I'm pretending it doesn't hurt to want to be proud of what I do, but being embarrassed by it instead. I'm pretending it doesn't rip my soul apart to be working against rules I actually believe in, to be surrounded by people who care about keeping up with the Jones' or the Kardashians or whomever else.

I'm pretending the fluorescent lights and computer screens don't exacerbate my migraines.

Now, before this goes too far into "woe is me", I'm grateful to have a job, and a well-paying one at that. I'm grateful that, if I don't get my children, I'll be able to start saving up this big ol' paycheck so we can get our land for our self-sustaining ranch/farm/hippie paradise. I'm grateful that they really like my lies. I'm grateful I'm not dependent on this company, like Chinese people often are; this company is not where I live. It can't make me a slave.

But there's something really disheartening about working against  your beliefs. I really feel like I'm selling my soul for a paycheck. If so, the paycheck is not nearly enough. Are you selling your soul?

The Problem Is Everyone Is Trying To Make a Buck

The problem is that everyone is trying to make a buck...and I won't exclude myself from this: part of the Revolution, part of Bucking the American Dream, is that we find alternative ways to support ourselves and our families.

But too many people, companies, organizations out there are simply trying to make a buck, even if that seriously harms people.  For example, I was looking up information on food sensitivity. I have a strong suspicion that I'm lactose intolerant, or at least very sensitive to lactose. It has actually stopped me from drinking milk or eating ice cream (the latter is a good thing), because my belly hurts after I eat/drink these things. Cheeses can cause me problems, too. Pizza definitely bloats me, but I'm also like a pizza crackhead, so part of that may be just eating way too much pizza.

In any event, frozen yogurt, ice cream, milk, some cheese. . . these things all hurt me and make my insides go nuts.

I also wonder if I'm sensitive to gluten, because I can get very swollen on grains, very suddenly. Bread of any kind is not my friend. But I love, love, love dry cereal, even "healthy" ones like Kashi.

So, in any event, I have these concerns and was wondering how I find out if I am sensitive to these things, without, you know, torturing myself by eliminating them and re-introducing them and seeing how I feel (which seems like a lot of work, and I just bought active culture yogurt and I really want some, even though it will keep for another week or two just fine).

So I googled "science food intolerance."

And I got this site, from a pharmacist, disclaiming the food intolerance testing (IgG) industry.  The article says, in a nutshell, that IgG testing doesn't make sense, because IgG is a sign of tolerance in the body, not intolerance. So it's outlawing foods to which your body has actually grown accustomed (and therefore, isn't reacting negatively to anymore).

Now, I've listened to Dr. Oz and to Dr. Hyman, and both of them talk about "leaky gut", where, through inflammation, your body actually allows food particles into your bloodstream, your body freaks out, and it creates the IgG to allow you to, you know, keep living.

So the "Science-Based Medicine" site isn't comparing apples to apples, here.  It *is* true, though, that both Dr. Oz and Dr. Hyman have their hands in our pockets. They are really more infopreneurs than anything else: they give you lots of information and then subtly (or not-so-subtly) endorse products which you then are happy to buy, sending them a nice little kickback.

But the pharmacist can't sit there and pretend his industry isn't doing the exact same thing. When was the last time you went to the Dr.'s office and didn't see ads everywhere for drugs? If you didn't see them, then you were looking at your smartphone the whole time. The office is plastered with these things, and the Dr. is endorsing them by allowing them to be there.

So it comes down to: which side do you believe? Both are hucksters, IMHO.

Half of the "peer reviewed" science papers are paid for by pharmaceutical companies. Actually, more than half. And a whole bunch of those are paid for, or approved by, the big food companies (who are the ones purveying the unhealthy shit we're eating).

So what it boils down to is this: we can't take anyone's word for it. They're all bought. I'm bought, in my own way, as well. I'm writing this because I also want you to buy a book, or click on an advertiser, or find some way to help me live a life independent of the hucksters so I can stop being one, too.

We can't abdicate responsibility for our bodies. If I want to find out if certain foods are bothering me, I'm going to have to do the work of eliminating swaths of foods that are common to intolerance, and then slowly re-introducing foods that might be problematic to determine if they actually are. Starting "tomorrow" of course, because I have a bag of cereal next to me, strawberries, vinaigrette salad dressing (store-bought) and a Shake-N-Baked pork chop in the fridge.

And yes, I'm laughing at myself for wanting the world to change when I am so slow about the same process.

Should I be building an Ark Instead of an Electric Bike?

We are currently having torrential rain. I've had to reassure my husband that this is 100-year flood-type weather, not normal Colorado weather.

It makes me wonder if we should be building an ark instead of an electric bike.

home-made (unsuccessful, sort of) foam and duct-tape boat.

Because of the weather, I took the moped today. Usually he'd take it, because he has further to go, but in inclement conditions, the exposure counts for more than the gasoline. It was a wet ride. The water stung, and I only get to about 40-45 mph.

The bike would be more comfortable, because it's slower. Of course, I also need to waterproof the electronics.

Hubby did a good job milling down the part we needed in order to replace the sprocket on the motor. I need to tighten it up, but it occurred to me that I can just run the thing and hold the nut and it'll torque itself on pretty well. Of course, that occurred to me at my 9-5, so I can't test this hypothesis until I get home.

Fun with Electronics

So the plan is to assemble the bike once it stops raining. It does me no good to short the connections (most of which are not covered, and will not be until I am sure everything is placed correctly).

And I am still trying to decide which frame and which wheels I will be using.

Fun with prototypes, right? I never claimed the road to Revolution was a straight or tidy one.

Revolting Project 0: Mo' money, Moped

It occurs to me that our very first "Buck the American Dream" project was purchasing a moped. It's a beauty, too. It gets about 85 miles/gallon, the insurance is like $100 a year, and the registration is next to nothing.

Hubby and I can ride it together, so our excursions are on the moped. So far the thing is saving us around $50/week on gas or more.  I'll have the numbers next month. That, by the way, is including the insurance cost and the cost for the registration. The gas savings pay for the whole thing in less than 4 months. And because we live in Colorado, where the skies are clear pretty much all the time, the precipitation is not much to worry about, meaning we can use the moped all year round.

Of course, our next one will have to be electric :-) and I'll rig up solar panels for it to re-charge during the day.

Do you have any super-energy-efficient tools/toys? Tell me about them!

Revolting Project 1: Electric Bike

Yes, I meant to put "revolting" instead of "revolutionary". While we are redesigning our American Dream, why not redesign some language, too? It's too rich of a play on words to pass up.

1. I am revolting against society's expectations of a contributing adult.
2. I'm revolting against society's expectations of a woman (repeat after me: Women are not allowed to touch anything that smells like STEM!) STEM= Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics.
3. People might find my hacked-together bike "revolting" to gaze upon.
4. REcycling an electrical system (volt).

If you can think of any others, go ahead and comment, I'd love to hear them.

Anyway, back to the point of the post: I am making an electric bike. More accurately, I am making an electrically-assisted bike, that still has peddling options, but also has an electric motor (24V) on one of the gears (or 7 gears, depending on how you want to look at it), to assist when you just don't want to pedal anymore, or you're on a hill and need some help, or you just want to get somewhere.

Why a hybrid bicycle? There are these very large, very steep hills between me and my 9-5. I would love to ride my bike, but I'm still too fat and weak to make it up the hill, and I personally don't want anyone laughing at me or shouting derogatory comments while my fat ass is walking my bike up the hills (I get enough derogatory comments when I'm running, even though I wear clothes to hide my fat jiggling around, people still feel the need to comment out of car windows).

With a hybrid bicycle, I can practice biking up the hills, but I have a back-up if/when I get too tired. Then it becomes a game (as opposed to becoming torture): how high up the hill can I go before I wimp out? I like games. I like bikes, too.

Also, since I thoroughly enjoy making this bike, perhaps I can make more of them and sell a few, thereby financing a few more projects, like turning my electric bicycle into a solar-powered bicycle, or converting my car to an electric (or getting a new frame and converting that car to an electric). Or making an electric trike-plane.

I also don't have to register a hybrid bicycle in Colorado, where I would have to register a fully electric bicycle.

The Making of the Beast

So, how do you make a hybrid bicycle?  (and yes, I will post an instructable once this is complete).

1. Get a bike.
2. Get a non-functioning electrical vehicle (I got a Razor Electric Chopper that wasn't working but had all the electrical components (except a charger) for $25.
3. Strip the electrical components out of the non-functioning electrical vehicle
4. Fix the vehicle's electrical components (thank you, AP Physics and the Internet).
5. Install the electrical system onto the bicycle.

. . .and that's as far as I've gotten.

It turns out that it's really helpful to have (in no particular order)

• A bicycle with straight wheels
• The correct sprocket for the bike chain
• A drill bit
• bolts and nuts
• wire coat hangers
• duct tape
• pliers
• wrenches
• allen wrenches
• functioning batteries
• a patient and supportive husband who is willing to take your motor to work for you, use a pneumatic wrench and vice grips to take off the non-fitting sprocket, and then re-assemble your motor with the correctly-sized sprocket you took off your non-functioning bicycle's derailleur.
• IcyHot
• Lots of soap
• A few weekends with nothing better to do
• a burning desire to "goof off" with your electric bike project to get out of doing household chores.

The first set-back was getting everything rigged up, and then realizing that you can't reasonably expect a motor to turn a bicycle chain if it's only held onto a cylindrical surface with coat hangers; there's too much play and it will simply rock out of the way.

The second set-back was realizing that I can't re-rig the brakes to ignore a seriously bent wheel.

The third set-back was realizing that even after I addressed the first two setbacks, the half-sized sprocket introduced fatal design errors, such as a sweet-spot where the small sprocket failed to engage the large chain at all, and the realization that in order for the small sprocket to clear the chain when the chain and the sprocket tooth were passing one another, the sprocket had to be far enough away to always clear the chain (this is where the coat-hangers fooled me: the coat hangers allowed the small sprocket to flex into the chain, but pop out of the way when there was resistance from the bent wheel. The bolted-on motor had very little play, so it couldn't engage the chain).

Several other victories, however, keep me going:

1. I can switch gears to and from the electrically-assisted gear.
2. I still remember how to ride a bicycle
3. I did manage to repair the circuits of the Electric chopper
4. The motor is going the right way (I would have had to strip the connectors and wire the motor backward if it had been spinning the wrong way)
5. I have enough clearance that I will not be bumping my knees into the batteries when I ride the bike.

So, while I'm awaiting the return of the re-sprocketed motor, I'm pleased with the progress, even if I am disappointed with the timeline of said progress. This is, however, just the prototype, and prototypes are necessarily fussy things.

Once I'm done, I will have gained knowledge of one more way to buck the dream: I will have gained independence from petroleum fuel for my commute (not having a commute would be even better; we're working on that), refreshed my knowledge of electrical systems, so I can work on bigger electrical projects (I only started three fires and haven't shocked myself yet. . .although I did have to pluck out three metal fragments from my foot after all that drilling), mastered some new power tools, and gained confidence that I can see these projects through. 

Oh, and doing the physics and math stuff is a big middle finger to my ex-husband and every member of society that looks down on girls doing STEM activities (which I still run into, by the way. Really annoying).

What about you? Have you rigged up anything to save yourself time/energy/money? How did your project go?

Headcount Adjustment Day

I was fixing up my morning tea when the guy delivered the boxes to the break room. Hmm.

It didn't take long for my co-workers to mill about, stating that today was the day. News came in from our HQ; some people had found out last night that they were going to be let go.  Today, though, was our day; it should be all done by 2:30, don't worry, keep your head down. They start trading evidence: the HR lady has been here since 6:00 am. All of the conference rooms are booked by HR. Managers are missing scheduled meetings.

Then the first person is tapped by management: please come to the conference room.

He comes back 30 min later, a strange, strained look on his face. "Well, it's me," he says, hanging his head. Then he shakes it. He smiles, and tells us about the severance package he got. We marvel. A few wish it had been them; they've been wanting to leave, but they need an excuse, or a cushion, or both.

We shake hands, help him pack if he lets us. Tell him to keep in touch. And then we scurry to our cubes and jump every time the phone rings. Or we gather in the cube halls. Or we chill in the break room, next to the boxes, watching for who comes in to get one.

Our Outlook tells us who is suddenly "presence unknown", and some of us track the headcount adjustment that way.

And then The Call:

There's something so upsetting about lay-off days. I've been on both sides of the day: the one laid off and the one who "survives", and both sides suck. But, for me, the part that sucks the most is that good people are let go with the bad people. Assiduous workers along with the lazy. The baby with the bathwater. No matter how good you are, no matter how hard (or smart) you work, you could be the next one called. It's not personal, right? It's business.

But it is personal. Because, you see, I'm a person.

Yeah, really. I am. And so are you.

How sucky is it that even if you're doing well at your job, you can be laid off in a snap? Have you saved six months' worth of rent, utilities, groceries, medical money, etc. ? I know I haven't. But the only way to avoid the paralyzing fear of Lay-Off Day is to have that kind of money in the bank, so you can find another job in peace, without begging on your knees at some HR person's doorway in a company whose Facebook page you just read 15 minutes ago.

And it is humiliating to be at the mercy of an impersonal corporation.

Every time it happens, I tell myself, "No more."

And then I get distracted, or relieved that I "made it through," and I get comfortable. And then it happens again.

And again.

Companies aren't going to stop the lay-offs. So that means the only way off the seesaw is to buck the American life, and the American (lay-off) Dream.

If you could be your own company, what would you do? Would  you create art? Would you volunteer to help the elderly? Would you open a school for the disabled? Would you go back to school?

How can you buck the American Lay-Off Dream right now even while keeping your 9-5?