survive « Robin Writes

Sorry about the lack of a Work Wednesday post; frankly, I was too tired after that long drive back to STL.

However, I did use the time to do some thinking, and my question to myself was this:

Do I trust the government?

A pretty broad question, but I started from the top down. Regarding our president, no, I never “liked” him. Of course, I don’t “know” him, so maybe that’s part of it, but I always found it strange that no one had ever heard of him and here he was, front and center, winning the election. Odd. I also thought that he was a fantastic speaker, very inspiring, but short on substance. End point: no trust.

Note: this does not make me a racist.

Congress. Dear God. What a cluster. I’d venture a guess that a very, very few of our representatives or senators are actually effective. And by “effective,” I mean they get up, go to work, accomplish goals. The impression I have is that they occasionally go to work and screw around. Figuratively if not literally.

I’d like to believe that these people entered politics to help make things better. Perhaps. Some of them. What I see, however, is that, in general, they’re in it for themselves, then the PACs and lobbyists, then maybe will throw a bone to their constituents.

Nope, no trust. Not really.

Trust, of course, means that I believe they will do what’s best for me, or for the majority of the citizens.

Let’s look at the state level. Ah, Jay Nixon. Idiot extraordinaire. Sorry, but it’s my blog, my opinion.

I remember him from way back. Not impressed then. But during and after the Michael Brown fiasco, oh, good Lord. Grow a pair already, Jay, and take some action. Do something. Protect the people. Make a damn decision.

Trust level: zero.

So, if I don’t trust the government, does that make me a nutjob? Paranoid? Stupid? I don’t think so. I’m none of those things, so my change in opinion of my government has no bearing on my own capabilities. I think a lot of people are the same way.

My biggest question is whether or not things are truly worse these days, or is it just because of 24-hour media—and that’s a whole other issue, as the term “un-biased media” is one hell of a joke now—and social media, which gives a voice to nearly everyone, all the time, with relatively little fallout.

So what would you do in this situation?

Our plan is to live on the farm, be self-sufficient, and keep our heads down.

Let me give you a comparison, and yes, I’m well aware that we’ll still pay taxes and still use infrastructure like roads, etc.:

STL—government regulated utilities, such as water, sewer, gas, electric, trash.

Farm—well, lagoon, electric co-op.

STL—silly county regulations.

Farm—it’s OUR property.

I’m pretty sure that if my doc would come out to the farm to take my blood pressure, it would be about 20 points or so lower than it is here in STL. At the farm, we aren’t regulated to death—and if you haven’t already experienced that here, you must be special. Wait until the barbeque smoke ordinance reaches STL.

Come to think of it, shortly after we bought our house here, we had a fire out back in our stone firepit. It met the “code” and had been here for years before we moved in. Naturally, someone complained.

The CCFD showed up, along with a county officer. CCFD shrugged it off, told us to be careful. County decided we had to put it out because the firepit wasn’t “regulation.” Not that she got out of her car to look at it . . .

Seems we can only “burn leaves” certain months out of the year. Guess who has 30 trees and STILL has leaves all over the place, in August??

Another time, a county inspector came by because we “had a pile of brush” in the back yard. That was my son’s “fort” that he’d built. We also had a few limbs that we hadn’t yet gotten around to shredding and chopping, because my husband was working 60 hours a week; they’d been sitting in the back, out of sight, next to our woodlot for about two weeks.

The second inspector to pay us a visit had had a complaint about a pool in the backyard. It was barely visible from the street, and it was four feet deep—according to the county, any deeper required a fence. When I pointed that out to the inspector, he said it was standing water and a mosquito hazard. He said it had to be fenced to protect against mosquitoes.

Say what?

So I asked about the creek, ostensibly owned by MSD, and said that if my little pool had to be fenced against mosquitoes, so did the creek. It doesn’t flow during the summer, unless it rains.

He gave up and left.

But seriously, WHY should I have to put up with this bullshit on my own property?

Governmental interference. Ridiculous. Stupid.

No, I don’t trust them at all.

I’m sure you’ve heard that you should keep your prepping on the down-low and not advertise to every Tom, Dick, and Harry where you are and what you’re doing and planning. This is very, very true. But you also have to be careful around friends and family.

My husband and I were discussing our kids—we have five—and what they could contribute if they had to leave town and come down to the farm. The next question is whether or not any or all of them would have the skills to actually get here, or if they’d realize that they should be bugging out.

Or if they’d want to.

See, in four months, over the summer, the only one who’s been here is the youngest, who’s still at home and starting his senior year of high school.

I also have some dear friends who would be welcome when SHTF. They have skills to contribute, after all, but most of them don’t seem to be too concerned about a situation that could occur, any situation.

So it’s likely just us.

However.

People talk. And it’s imperative that those who know where you are DO NOT give directions to anyone else. You’ve trusted them, but it doesn’t mean you trust or even know THEIR friends or family.

And you certainly aren’t extending an open invitation to everyone, just because you have a few acres in the middle of nowhere. We prep for US. WE are prepared to live here, indefinitely, when SHTF. We are NOT prepared, and will not, or should be, ready for anyone who does not have a direct invite from US to come out here.

This is not a vacation home. This is a farm. It may not look like much now, but it will. Sure, we can take a day off, most of one, or even two, to show you around and have some fun, but there are still daily chores to be done and our time is valuable.

Things in the city could get bad, really bad, this month, or next month, or next year. Or in five years, or never. No one knows. But it’s coming. And if you show up, you better have both skills and supplies. And if we don’t know you personally, you’re not coming in. Sorry, but my family is my priority. If you’re worried, start prepping. And spread the word to your family and friends, but DO NOT talk about my location or invite whoever you please.