Ugh I’m awake at 3:30 am with an upset tummy, kind of, and it’s just, ugh. oh well.

I had a busy day yesterday, finished painting the barn interior. There’s a space we use adjacent to the slaughter area, where we package chickens— the hallway between the kill room and the evisceration room, and the space in front of that hallway— and the inspector said last year, if we’re in that space, the surfaces have to be coated. So we didn’t get to it over the winter, and did our first run of the year without fixing it, but B-i-L was super nervous that if the inspector comes and we haven’t done the necessary work, he’ll fail the entire operation’s inspection. And it’s so minor— we’ve done the major construction work that has to be done, and it’s just literally painting the walls and ceiling, so—

I realized right away this was a job I could do, not skilled or complicated, and most importantly, not involving sun exposure. I’ve only had mild hives this year so far, but they were from spending two hours in the shade in clothing that nearly covered me entirely, so. I know I can’t do field work at all. So I took over.

And yesterday I managed to paint the wall behind the ice machine and biggest chest freezer. We didn’t move either thing very much, and it involved me enlisting Sister to wriggle in and with her longer arms, reach a bit I wouldn’t have been able to— she accomplished this by wedging her pelvis between the ice machine and the freezer, standing on one leg, and hooking the other leg over the top of the freezer, and reaching as far as she could with one hand while bracing the other against the wall.

I had to do the same after she was done, she’s just both narrower and longer than I am so her range was greater for one crucial bit. Then I had to lie on top of the chest freezer and hang my head and entire upper body down into the space between it and the wall. Fortunately, I had foreseen this, and hadn’t painted the bit we’d have to mash ourselves against.

It worked, and the thing’s done. I haven’t managed the ceiling, but I did stand on the chest freezer and paint all the edge pieces I could reach.

It’s the kind of thing you don’t notice, but, honestly it was disgusting before; that used to be a cow barn, and the walls were this weird kind of whitewash-over-newspaper, caked in 70 years of filth. You could try washing them, but it would only sort of soak in. (I washed the ceiling in there over the winter. Believe me, those walls weren’t cleanable.) So, now they’re coated in the really good primer.

I think I have to go back over them with high-gloss bright-white paint, though, to make them washable going forward. Which is the goal. At least the doors and the one narrow bit, maybe not behind the freezers, where neither light nor dirt will ever penetrate…

I also washed the panes of glass in the one window, which was Something, let me tell you. I had to evict a lot of spiders. I did so soft-heartedly, carrying as many outdoors as I could, or into other parts of the barn where we don’t care if they live there.

* * *

In other news, I’ve done almost no work on anything personal, nor have I looked much at the Internet, except to get exceedingly upset about politics, as usual. I’m so upset, and it doesn’t help that I’m writing this at like, three forty-five because I was awake almost an hour ago lying in bed worrying about it. Ugh.

BUT. I think I did manage to finish the Yavin 4Some. So, y’all, brace yourselves, for some non-continuity, excessively pornographic, unredeeming smut, because who doesn’t love that. I don’t not love that. Why has this been the story that gets worked on? LOL because it’s the only one that’s on my hard drive not Google Docs. Should I relocate other things to my hard drive? Sure I should but that’s asking a lot of my organizational abilities.
I was kind of a lazy piece of shit today but honestly it was glorious. It was 92 today, and brutally bakingly sunny. I spent a solid ten minutes out in the sun, felt a prickling in my skin, and beat feat to the shade, telling Farmbaby that she could keep harvesting wild strawberries on the hill but I was going to be just at the foot of the hill. (I put sunscreen on both her and me, but I still have that inexplicable sun allergy. If I stay in the shade, I’m okay, but it’s not always possible. Ugh.) She understood and was chill, and after another fifteen minutes, joined me. “It’s hot,” she said. 

She then proceeded to effusively thank the Vegetable Manager for telling her that there were strawberries on that hill. (He’d discovered them, and told us we should go look; I’d noticed the leaves but figured they wouldn’t bear fruit, and also wasn’t that confident I’d ID’d them correctly.)

She had a fever of 102 last night, and it kept recurring in little spikes throughout the day. She was so cheerful, and chipper, and would play, with us cautioning her not to overdo it, but then she would demand “snuggles” (and always from her mother), and crash sort of hard for a bit. She never had any temper tantrums or shed any actual tears. She seems to rather suddenly be almost entirely over the years-long phase of having screaming weeping tantrums about things. Not totally, but often. 

She was so clingly. But Sister knew that was inevitable, and did not make any serious attempts to get into any tasks. Did some flower harvesting and light weeding, and I did the intermediate herding of Child when she was well enough to allow those things, and then Sister just sat in the shade and let 100 degrees of child cook her organs. Farmbaby took a nap of over an hour pressed against her mother’s chest, in a chair in the shade with the cat melted on the grass next to her.

Meanwhile, Brother-in-Law spent the entire day setting up the swingset his father had sent, unsolicited and without much warning, as a gift. It was lovely, but somewhat unexpected. Farmbaby was an angel; she asked a half-dozen times how much longer it would take, but when firmly and repeatedly told, a long time, she willingly let herself be distracted, for hours on end. 

I did cook dinner. (Sauteed kohlrabi greens and kale with scallions and a little broccoli raab, with a coconut milk and peanut butter sauce, over rice. Bonus: sauteed in a pan that had been used to cook homemade bacon, so it was coated in lard and bacon crumbs.) 

That’s about all I accomplished today. I fucked around on the Internet, but basically read-only. Not productive, but sometimes the brain needs to lie fallow. I didn’t think of much, but I think it was important rest time. We’ll see. 

I am overjoyed, by the way, at having power to the yurt, because 90 degrees with an electric fan in a yurt is actually pleasant. No fan, and you won’t sleep, but a fan means that crucial extra bit of air circulation that takes it from bearable to comfortable.

I’ve taken down the blanket fort and dropped the sidewalls and put up my lace “curtains”. It’s really nice in here now. 
oh no! i told myself now that i’m back in my own house i can catch up on naps and laziness and be a piece of shit but my nap was all spoiled by I Should Be Doing Something anxiety feelings and even an anxiety dream about something complicated involving transporting things from one place to another. 

Phooey, I’m going to have to be productive instead. 
oh i know! since i’m feeling wretched and can’t really function today, today is the day to finally push the button on the dang Sled Dog Guy Mystery update I’ve been sitting on for no actual reason since last week. 

Let’s see if I can figure out why I haven’t felt like I could publish it. 
Yesterday we cleaned out the second floor of the granary– the building just across the driveway from the house used to be a granary and carriage house, and now the larger part is used as the farmstand, and the smaller room to the left is still called the granary– it’s where we make wreaths and where the freezers for household use are. (The barn is full of chest freezers to hold the chickens for sale, but the stuff for cooking with is in the granary upright freezers.) There’s also a fridge for self-serve eggs during the summer months. Oh I need to make a new sign for that, note to self. (The old one was on a roof slate and is cracked.)

The whole building is two stories, and the upper storey is entirely lined with built-in grain bins probably original to the structure. The building was probably constructed around the same time as the house, circa 1825– it might even be older. The foundation is raw field stone, set dry, and it is actually in the bed of the creek, with the foundation keeping it up. There’s a two-seat privy that just hangs out over the creek– just, holes in seats, and you’re supposed to do your business straight into the creek, ew– and is the oldest surviving lavatory facilities on premises. It’s totally unrenovated, and is still in the farmstand, but is used as a storage closet. 

The second storey had gotten cluttered up with junk and used for storage. I’d really like to put the dried flowers workshop up there, though, and i have some ambitious plans for preserved flowers and potpourri. So yesterday we hauled out what was up there– and most of it was lumber. 

We transferred it out the second-storey door of the granary, and carried it across the bridge to put up into the big barn’s loft. The big barn, built 1943, has a huge hayloft that’s mostly got yurt parts and pigeon shit in it, so it could easily store lumber.

Doing this was intensively laborious and dusty, but we got it done, FarmSister and I, with a lot of help from the veggie manager, who had finished his seeding for the day and happened by and pitched in because he’s nice. 

We revealed that the granary’s second floor is in gorgeous condition. The windows have mostly fallen in, over the decades, but the roof is original slate and has survived, and so the floor is flawless– wide planks, better condition than those in the house. It’s just gorgeous. 

We’re going to make a lounge for the interns on one side, since the intern cabin has no electricity– we’ll run power up from the first floor of the granary, and there are a couple comfy chairs, we’ll rig up a desk and a desk chair, and maybe even get them a TV or something, some floor lamps– and then the other ¾ of the space can be a workshop. We gotta fix the windows, but that’ll be easy enough. 

I don’t want to pull out the grain bins, which are built-in, but it’s hard to utilize the space with them as-is. I think we can remove them without really damaging anything, and then we can adapt and reuse the space. They’re just built-in low walls. The corners are all reinforced with old metal license plates– there’s a pair from 1941, particularly– because of mice chewing. And that’s the downside– I can’t have racks to dry flowers if they’re anything the mice will eat. Petals, mice won’t bother, but anything with a seed head, they’ll eat. And I’m sure if I preserve anything in glycerine they’ll get into it. 

Anyway, I’m so sore I think I might be dying, because my normal daily activity is something like 3,000 steps according to my smartwatch, and I’ve been over 10,000 every day this week, and yesterday carried a lot of lumber on my shoulders, which is not a typical activity for me at all.

But, onward. (That’s me telling myself to get up. Just now I was playing with Farmbaby, and am sort of proud I managed to talk her out of playing tag all over the house, and instead convinced her to show me her yoga poses. Man I needed some yoga.)
so i drove the entire way to work this morning in an absent-minded state of tooth-gritted, resigned anxiety, like I’d just been in a fight and was chewing it over and dealing with moving on in my life and all.

And it was only after like, fifteen minutes of it, that I was like… wait… I… basically haven’t spoken to anyone today… I pet my cat and said some fairly sweet nothings to my dude, I wrote a goofy post about butter, I– why am I thinking I was in an argument? I don’t think I’ve so much as disagreed with anyone in days????

And I realized eventually that I had scrolled past and read half of a post where two people were debating back and forth over something in semi-hostile tones.

Jesus Christ, I didn’t even read the whole thing and I don’t even think either one of them were mutuals or anyone I’ve ever spoken to. It was literally random strangers on the Internet having a mild but snippy disagreement over some turn of phrase. 

There is not very much of my brain working and I deeply resent that the only part of my brain that seems to be working well is the one that latches onto icky things. 


This is why I’m not on Facebook.

This could also explain why despite the fact that many perfectly lovely people have said perfectly lovely things I am convinced that nobody reads my shit and nobody cares. I’ve mostly been pretty good I think about not whining too much because I do realize how shitty it must be, if you read my shit and left a nice comment and I didn’t answer and then went and whined about how nobody loves me. But that’s how my brain is currently working: you do something nice, I don’t notice it because it conflicts with my deeply-held belief that everything is bad. (You know, that cognitive bias whatever thing that makes people do incredibly stupid things like rely on the ACA for their continued existence and enthusiastically vote for the guy who promised to eliminate it?) 

That’s not to say that the moment of pleasure I experience when reading such a comment etc. isn’t real, it’s just that it goes very pale pretty much instantly in my memory, and then the brainweasels yell at me that I made the whole thing up, that sort of thing. Look, my brain is wholesale devoting itself to making me feel shitty about arguments I didn’t even read, let alone get involved in (and it was an issue I don’t have an opinion on either way, I should add! I only read the little bit I did because it was something I didn’t know was a thing!)– is it any wonder that I’m not hitting all the marks on the ol’ social graces? 

So I suppose I should conclude by expressing gratitude for anyone who has bothered to interact with me in any kind of positive or even neutral kind of way lately, because it’s really appreciated even if I don’t actually, you know, wind up with enough appreciation going spare for it to be in any way perceptible. 


Sep. 8th, 2016 02:16 am
So the grinding noise was indeed my rear brakes, which are now replaced, free of charge, covered under warranty, just in time. Go me!

I was feeling sort of low because I Finally Updated The Epic and got a few comments and then… crickets… and like… some of the regulars hadn’t been by, the ones who leave long great comments on every chapter, you know the ones, and i was feeling real sad, like, I blew my update schedule and now no one will ever love me kind of shit, you know the type… and then I got a comment notification and went and looked and there’s a giant yellow banner that AO3 emails aren’t going out, so. That’s a little cheering. I’m not letting myself go look to see if there are comments there, I’d rather leave it as a kind of Schrodinger’s Sad Sack kind of situation. I am so pathetically Dependent on Validation, you know? but I don’t get a lot of it in my daily life, I’m just putting that out there. Most things I try to do, I fail at, so. Maybe it’s not reasonable but it’s a little bit understandable that I’m kind of Thirsty about this sort of thing. 

God it is so fucking hard to just fucking believe in yourself, you know? Ugh. I seriously cried about being a goddamn retail clerk who can’t add, today. Like, ugly sobbing. it’s really good nobody was around. 

[deleted thousand-word aside about buying incense at the indian grocery store??? what??? i need to chill.]

I’m on such a tear tonight. I need to chill. It’s definitely A Time of Month or something, for reals. Ugh. 


Apr. 12th, 2016 10:51 am
So after a l-o-n-g drive across the state and a wearying crush of rush hour traffic just outside of Albany (I do not know why I-87N is always such a parking lot) during which my arms went numb, I was so tired, I finally made it to the farm. I pulled into a parking spot and admired the new chicken coop, then trudged through the rain to the house. As I reached the driveway, I could see movement inside the kitchen, and then through the soft din of rain and the rush of the creek, I could hear a very high-pitched sound: a set of very small vocal chords sh-r-i-e-k-i-n-g my name in a state of GREAT excitement. 

Somebody, who is two, was very glad I had arrived. Which is always very gratifying. 
Well I WAS going to go to bed at a reasonable hour but now there’s a cat on my lap so I am trapped.

She just turned so her head is upside-down. I may die here.


Mar. 9th, 2016 02:35 am
My DJing deskmate wasn’t in today so I was DJing for myself, and so I decided to work my way through the entirety of Townes Van Zandt’s back catalogue because, I’m not sure why, it seemed like a good idea I guess, but this involved looking him up and reading his life story to figure out what order the albums go in, and Jesus Christ I don’t know how I managed not to read about his life before now but oh my God I am going to die alcoholic in a ditch just from reading about it oh my God. Um like massive TRIGGER WARNINGS for his ENTIRE LIFE: alcohol abuse, terrible medical abuse, awful fucking tragedy.

[Fun fact: he was given “insulin shock” therapy for bipolar disorder at age 18 and lost most of his long-term memories. Fucking what.][Also he died of many complications but among them a fractured hip he refused medical treatment for for eight days.][Also the normally not-very-poetic Wikipedia takes the time to describe his ex-wife Jeanene performing CPR on him “screaming his name between breaths” as he died, thanks for that image!]

So uh. I had to share that, I actually couldn’t not share that. 

More cheerfully, a happy customer brought in cookies, and i am at The Time Of The Month where anything with chocolate in it goes from being mildly interesting to ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY so, here’s a GPOY: 

It was kind of terrible and kind of awesome. I… will admit to no regrets.

I made a lot of progress on the novel today since nobody was supervising me. that’s not to say i did no work, i did plenty, i just didn’t have to waste quite so much time looking busy. funny how that works. 

I have booked tomorrow off, since I’m supposed to be part-time, and I am promising to spend it cleaning my house more. If my house were clean enough, I could have people come over sometimes, and that would be nice. 

i really want to promise myself I’ll make something with my hands, though, because I get so anxious when I haven’t, and I have all these projects I’m dying to work on. So, maybe I’ll really make something. It would be so great. I would be so happy. I want to. 

I also want to finish the fucking novel though and I’m so close. I’m trying. It’s more difficult the closer you are to the end. I feel like. I don’t know. I rarely finish things so it’s hard to say. I’ve finished stuff before, though, and i know. I know! Stay strong, self.

I’m going to reblog a stupid ask meme, please ask me stupid things because it is motivational procrastination. 
I got ten inches of snow and falling, at my house. The road isn’t plowed. The main drag is a tenth of a mile away, but I can’t see if it’s been plowed. Work is seven miles away, and the snowfall is heavier that direction. 

I have to leave now to get there on time on a good day, but I am very emphatically Not Going To Bother. I’m-a still go in, if they don’t institute a driving ban, but I am not going to hurry. 

We’ve done well this winter, it’s just– ugh. Ugh. Uuuuugggghhhhh. 

The later I wait the worse it’s going to get, but, it’s going to snow nonstop until this evening. So it’s not like hurrying my ass in to work is going to help; I’m still going to have to fight my way home through a hideous Siberian hellscape. 

I guess Winter had a little bit of fuck-you left in it. 

I’m telling myself that once the plow goes down my street, then I’ll get off my ass and shovel. But c’mon. Ugh. 
I spent a shitload of money today, which is fine, I had the money to spend, and that is a thing to be thankful for. Most of it was on my car. Well, okay. Some of it was on my car. I bought an enormous camera lens, used of course, a discontinued model someone traded in, because it was a phenomenal deal and also I have a fond vision of using my little yurt as a wildlife blind and seeing what kinds of fascinating creatures I can shoot. The farm has a pond and there’s a great blue heron that basically lives there, among other things (many turkey vultures, too). So. I didn’t have much by way of telephoto representation in my lens collection, and it was a really good deal, I might repeat. 

Then I spent slightly more than that again on my car, getting the highly overdue state inspection (whoops; it’s amazing I’m not in jail) and also getting a roof rack put on, because again, farming, and what’s the point of having a Lesbaru if you’re not going to exercise the utility options? 

And then I went to TJ Maxx and bought myself shirts, because I’m fat and have outgrown much of my wardrobe, and Amazon has been being a dick lately. (They sent me a coupon, then refused to honor it, what the fuck. Like, a junk mail literal actual physical coupon, that they then disavowed all knowledge of. What the everloving fuck?)

And of course, groceries. But all in all it was like a month’s pay. It’s fine. I have it. 

I just feel sort of– weird! I got a lot of writing done in the car dealership waiting room, though. There was a soap opera playing on a TV I couldn’t see, and it was kind of funny, because I could see all the people sitting in front of the TV, and not one of them was watching it, and like, a character was in the hospital dying and the music was very dramatic and some woman was crying close-up (from the sound of it, anyway), and there were just all these disinterested people reading their magazines, unmoved by it all. 

Well. Not a lot of writing. Not as much as I’d’ve liked. But. 

 And there was a woman in Stormtrooper armor, with her helmet sitting next to her, and her hands on her head, and her eyes perfectly blank with terror, kneeling on the ground next to a TIE fighter.

“Thank you for calling me,” Finn said, watching the woman. She had reacted to his presence, shifting slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t move, and didn’t change her expression. She could be a trap; Finn was glad there were three X-Wings in orbit, scanning for incoming ships, and a fourth had landed next to the shuttle. Jessika Pava had climbed out of it and was standing a little back, next to Snap Wexley who’d piloted the shuttle, and both of them were staring really oddly at the Stormtrooper.

Finn glanced questioningly at them, and Pava made a face. “I’ve never seen one without the helmet,” she said. He stopped and stared at her for a moment, and her eyes suddenly went wide. “Shit! I mean–”

“I know what you mean,” he said, “but don’t forget again.”

He’s a finnamon roll but he’s also pretty sharp and self-assertive. 
Tail bracelet. What a ridiculous cat. (In case it’s not zoomed out far enough to see, that’s my arm, with my cat’s tail wrapped around my wrist; she’s lying with her front paws on my elbow, tucked under her shoulders, and her body is between my bent arm on the couch armrest, and my boob. (I am wearing a crop top with dinosaurs on it.) My orange headphone cord is visible coming out from under her body. Her head is out of the frame, as is mine, because I am the best webcam photographer.) 
Man, who here remembers that time my boss told me I didn’t need any raises because I have a sugar daddy*? I haven’t had a raise since he decided that, and hadn’t in some time– four, five years now– and I just overheard a coworker (during an hour-long personal phone call) mention her income, which is nearly $4/hr more than mine, and I’m just feeling real icky at the moment.

* newer readers may wonder, does B have a sugar daddy? Well. I have a partner of 15 years that I supported through college and with whom I have joint finances, who currently earns literally four times what I do. Is that sugar daddy???
Part of my old boss’s issue was that he was a devout Catholic, of course, and therefore since my dude and I aren’t married our relationship can only be based in sin. Dude also used to scoff at how much I hated children since I didn’t have any. So.

Anyway. I wish I hadn’t heard that, I didn’t need that information.

Why do I only have talents that aren’t worth money.

* my sister and her husband and baby came thru on their way back from new years’ with the in-laws in the midwest, and it was lovely to hang with them as usual. Baby’s latest thing is that her mother told her “Pause!” during play, at one point, and she’d never heard the word used that way before, and thought her mother was nicknaming her “Paws”, which she has now decided is an excellent alter ego name, and sometimes Paws is a dog and sometimes Paws is a cat, depending on her whim.

* woke up an hour before I normally get up and had bled enough to overflow the menstrual cup I wear. managed not to get any blood on the sheets, but I got into the bathroom and thought, man fuck trying to clean this up, and just got into the shower. because holy fuck. how i didn’t get that all over the sheets i don’t know. this trash fucking body, i stg

* turbo yeast: tends to produce ethyl acetate? we think we over-nourished this batch and it produced ammonia, actually. distilled it yesterday, which was dramatic as we went from 50 degrees and rainy to 23 degrees and violently snowing during the time the still was running. considering solutions, probably citric acid, etcetera. first candidate for a second distillation! excellent experiments to make with cheap ingredients. 

* I did not mean to get sucked into it but I have now suddenly written almost 18k of Poe-POV Finn/Poe and it is absolutely not what I meant it to be nor is it particularly headed where I wanted, although technically I am following the outline I made, and up until a couple hours ago I was super into what I was writing, but I’m suddenly feeling very shitty about basically everything so I am going to attribute this to brainweasels and not do anything rash. I wanted to post an excerpt because I rely on attention to feed my creative beast but the reasonable 2k segment I composed wound up on such a horrifyingly sad note that I couldn’t bear the thought of posting it without the 3k resolution. So. I guess I won’t be posting a snippet here. Not of this, anyway. 

* on a high note! I consulted with @kiwisson about alternative pronouns for droids, as I disliked my draft where BB-8 was “it” (ugh!) and did not want to flip/flop he and she as the script does, and definitely didn’t want to use “he” like the novel apparently does, and they suggested spivak pronouns which I had never heard of before (or, well, I had, but I had no idea what they were called!) and I LOVE THEM and that is where I am going so thank you ever so much! BB-8 is about a thousand times more adorable as ey/em/eir. 

* the overarching theme of this story I am writing seems to be that Poe is surely indeed the dashing hero of the Resistance and all but in his downtime has a lot of anxiety about these ducklings who seem to want him to lead them around, and is pretty convinced that actually Finn is the dashing hero of the Resistance now and honestly people should be paying more attention to the new kid, and BB-8 is apparently fomenting some sort of droid revolution on top of all of that and he’s just got a lot to do and wishes people would stop taking surreptitious snapchats of his ass okay? 

* actually the snippet I wrote that got too long is all about an introductory holovid that the Resistance shows to new recruits, called “Dealing With Your Inevitable Crush On Poe Dameron”. I wish I could somehow make this be a real thing because in my head it’s hilarious. Ohhh, I am a one-trick pony; all my MCU stuff features descriptions of videos sort of compulsively, and now here I go. Oh well. The more prolific my output the more I can point out that I basically write the same shit over and over. 

*I will say this: the one thing I am really enjoying about dabbling in SW:TFA fic is that there’s literally no reason to ever bother with homophobia even existing, so that’s nice. Like, I don’t even have to acknowledge that it’s a thing. It’s really refreshing. I’m super jazzed to never encounter “period-typical homophobia” again. Or like, the concept of a same-sex relationship being “less real” than an opposite-sex one. Or like, someone not being a “real” bisexual. Fuck all of that noise, I can just pretend it’s never been a thing, because in this ‘verse, that’s totally plausible and fine. Kiiiiiinda loving it! Didn’t expect that! Super bummed to have no pop music though! Didn’t expect I’d care about that! Weird things you learn.

Okay everybody it has helped me a lot to talk through this. I feel less shitty. Thanks, and sorry that’s long. 
I am trying to type from this position and keep going on what I was working on but she is actually lying on both arms and this is tricky. Also it’s midnight, I should be a pumpkin by now.

Not that I can get up and go to bed, she’s on both arms.
As an aside. If you ever want to attract fruit flies and mosquitoes I cannot imagine any better lure than a six-gallon vat of sugar that farts carbon dioxide.
I should clarify re:distilling; NY State recently enacted a bunch of legislation making it dead easy and cheap as anything for a small farmer to operate a still, with the caveat that you have to use a percentage of NY State products to create your fermentation. (And that percentage is increased every year, possibly unfeasibly, but we’ll see. NY loves passing laws that sound good but were proofread without regard to realism or say, physics.)
So, long-term, sugar cane is right out. But I need to teach myself the basics, and I’m doing that with cheap easy cane sugar, so I’ll have some idea what I’m doing when I start using, as is the plan, the produce from the family farm.
(Said produce includes fruits and vegetables, and honey and maple syrup, and potatoes and sunchokes and oats and barley, so there’s a lot to go on.)



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