A Token Solution

I've had it with our pervasive socialism, haven't you? It's so bad even the City of Lexington's having budget problems. I feel guilty every time I drive into town. No toll at the city gate. No parking fees. No charge to visit Traveller's grave. I feel like a Marxist freeloader.

Here's a token solution. To use any social service in Lexington requires a token. You earn one for every dollar you pay in city taxes. You can buy them for a dollar apiece, or you can earn them by working: sweep streets and sidewalks, be a judge for a day, lay asphalt on Nelson Street, sign up to collect tolls at points of sale.

Look. Isn't it time we pay for everything we use? One could even rent a flagpole for a day, with enough tokens. And once Lexington is established as a model city, who knows where this could spread?

"You're getting pretty local here," says Virginia.

Nah. It's globally translatable.

Buy or Sell

When I mentioned to a brother that the Dow Jones Industrial Average had fallen 270 points this morning, he said, "Time to buy?" I said, "When it hits 7,000, maybe 8,000."

"What's wrong with you?" says Virginia.  "Don't you believe in our resilience?"

I guess so, long-term.  Unfortunately, there's no good economic news out there and it's not raining. Fortunately, our pump is located near the garden so I can water every day. The next planting of green beans is coming along nicely. Can't say the same for our representatives in the National Capital.

"Now that they've raised the debt ceiling, maybe they can concentrate on jobs," says Virginia.

Right, when we get to the final quarter, or more likely, the last five minutes, maybe, like a sports team, saving energy until the end. The big problem with that approach is -- unlike a game, we don't know when the end will be. Think global warming, for example. It's happening and there are things we can do, whether or not humans are solely responsible for it. I'm afraid, until the end is nigh (or past), we'll keep our heads buried in the sand.

"It's in God's hands," says Virginia.

I see the smile on her face. God passed the ball, "Show me what you can do." I have this sinking feeling we may have dropped it about the time we decided to let someone pursue McDonald's for spilled hot coffee. Come on, team, let's show what we can do! I think I'll go do some watering.  I hope I haven't waited too long.

Gotta Live in the Present

My cellphone's on the blink.  It didn't work for a couple days.  I could send out, but couldn't hear anything coming in. 

"Not so unusual," says Virginia, "for you."

She's right, as usual.

Hypocrisy

The bank reform bill that's received a lot of press the past year -- the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act -- is approaching its one year anniversary, July 21.  On that date, several provisions take effect, including Section 627, which allows banks to pay interest on business checking accounts.

"Sounds like a winner," says Virginia.  "It seems as though banks would be delighted.  A little deregulation for a change."

Uh-hum.  So why did the Independent Community Bankers of America (trade association for smaller, local banks) send a letter to Federal Reserve Board Chairman Bernanke urging the Fed not to implement the deregulation? Because it fears the big banks will get all the business and the little banks won't be able to compete on price (interest rate).  It fears the change will result in "bidding wars for business deposits among banks" and "expose banks to potential liquidity problems." It says money may move from money market funds, which already pay interest, to the megabanks, further increase the concentration of bank assets, and exacerbate the too-big-to-fail problem.  Welcome to a reprise of "Wall Street" meets "Main Street."

"Let me get this straight," says Virginia. "So the little banks are upset because the big banks may get the free cookie?"

Well, there ain't no such thing as a free cookie.  Someone has to pay.  There are two sides to this cookie -- the interest on deposit side, and the interest on loan side.  As the trade association argues, banks will have to pay more for their funds and businesses (as well as consumers) will have to pay more to borrow those funds.

"So is it right?" says Virginia.

Is it right?  That's a good question.  Is what right?  Is it right for retailers who have cash on hand not to earn interest on their deposits?  Is it right for Wal-Mart-sized banks to predatorily price little banks out of business?  And is it right for people pushing for deregulation to change direction depending on the issue?

Tired by Bedtime

A friend said she'd tell us when someone she knows hosts her next walk on hot coals.  I thought I wasn't interested until I found myself, for the second time in a week, splitting wood on a 90-plus degree day.  What were we thinking on New Year's Day when we decided it was too cold to kayak down Elk Creek to the James River?  After all, less than a month before that I started running up a mountain at midnight on a trail of snow.

"Gripe about heat, get hotter?" says Virginia.  "Gripe about cold, get colder?  Certainly you weren't fueling the woodstove?"

Right, walking on hot coals could be a good thing. Twice this week we stoked the Pompeii brick oven to make wood-fired pizza.  I had to split beautiful purplish walnut because our woodshed isn't ready for winter.  In five minutes I was ready to enter a wet tee shirt contest, maybe the womanless beauty pageant held this weekend at the Glasgow Riverfest.  For the third time today -- number 1, my morning run; number 2, picking the last peas and pulling out the plants

Time for a shower.  Cold or hot?

After the Bubble

“Tell me a story,” says Virginia....

When I knocked, I heard Charlie stomping in his kitchen, not a good sign. “Come in,” he yelled, as if hollering at a stubborn goat. I knew he knew why I’d chosen this time to visit. He pointed at a chair. I said “How ya feelin'?” as I sat.

“About the same as yesterday,” he said. “I don’t know why we raise our kids the way we do, or don’t. Whatever. We oughta let 'em out as soon as they can feed themselves, like most animals do. Instead, we rant and rave about things that are never the same as when we were their age, wishing they’d work as hard as we did, save their money – our money – and sacrifice for their futures. What for? When they finally settle down, they latch onto the latest false prophet and give him everything, figuring they won’t need it when the judgment day comes. Then they start all over, with our help."

“I get your drift,” I said. “Have you heard from her?”

“Of course not,” said Charlie. “She’s not going to crawl back here until our memories fade a little. She doesn’t want to hear my ‘told you so.’”

“Are you planning to say that?” I said.

“Hell no,” said Charlie, reddening, “but I might as well. It’ll hang in the air as thick as fog over the James.”

“Call her and tell her,” I said.

“What?” said Charlie. “That I believe people who can should live life in reverse? Retire first, work later if they need to? No kid should be told that.”

“She’s not a kid any more, Charlie,” said I.

He looked at me real hard, frowning, eyes partly closed, like an ex-girlfriend when I’d done something she didn’t like.

“I’m not a kid any more either, Charlie,” I whispered.

“You should've married her,” he said.

“Right, you know why I didn't,” I said. “I didn’t believe in myself enough, or anyone else for that matter, to not work hard, save my pay and sacrifice for the future. You wouldn’t have respected me.”

“So now we’re stupid together,” said Charlie. “What’s wrong with us anyway?

“We’re definitely not that,” I said, “and nothing’s wrong with us, other than we get played for suckers, one bubble after another. The others depend on people like us. We pay our debts, suffer our trespasses, and deliver them from evil.”

“Cut it out,” said Charlie. “You’re beginning to sound like that preacher.”

“Would you really want it any other way?” I said.

Who's to Blame?

This morning's online news headline -- "Who's to Blame for the High Food Prices?" -- seemed a little late.

A friend, for a few weeks, every time he saw us, asked if we wanted to buy chick feed.  "It'll never be cheaper again," he says.  He was planning a trip to the co-op to buy a truckload of 100-pound bags.  "I'll be glad to pick up a few for you," he said.  "Livestock prices are headed out of sight."

Who's to blame?  Stepping into memory of a corporate past, a former employer had a policy,  "Don't focus on blame.  Fix the problem."  Good first thought, perhaps, but don't imagine for a nanosecond that the problem causer, if identified, got away with it.

"I am to blame.  I can control my habit of driving everywhere, of wanting a hot house in the winter and a cold house in the summer, of eating vegetables and fruits out-of-season, etc.  I am to blame because I have not controlled myself."  We are the ones who create demand.  Lessen the demand and maybe prices will fall.  We underestimate ourselves.

Others may share the blame.  We always look for them first and too often never get around to ourselves.  That hot coffee burned me because the merchant set its thermostat too high, not because I wasn't paying attention.  My kid is hyperactive because the manufacturer put all those pretty colored dyes in that cereal, not because I put the box in my grocery cart.

"Finally," says Virginia, "we age, some of us get arthritis and notice that when we point, we're pointing at ourselves."

Good point.

Today is for Real

A few chicks chirp in the basement.  Darla, a convalescing kid, baahs from the den.  Four flats of tomato and green pepper seedlings snuggle in the dining room, protected from the last frost predicted for the next 10 days.  The usual Boxers Lex and Rosie, and Yogi, our African Gray, doze elsewhere on the first floor.  That's pretty much it for springtime in the farmhouse, not counting 2 humans and a temporarily still collection of stink, elder and lady bugs. 

After planning for several weeks off, this smug gardener spent most of this week inside, having last Friday downloaded an unexpected 330 pages of regulatory gobbledygook from the Federal Reserve. Smug, because his spring garden is almost complete and nicely thriving.  Every morning my cup and I wander around to spot what's new.  All of this would be almost impossible if I had to rush to an 8-6 job.  I'm thankful for the flexibility and glad to be done with the gobbledygook.

Of course, work waits to be done.  I sweated 4 hours last weekend to coat a corner of the field garden with cardboard, newspapers and a few inches of top soil, quite pleased with myself until I looked out my second story office window.  Through binoculars, all that effort looks like a postage stamp.

"Bit by bit," says Virginia.  "That's how anything worth doing gets done."

She's right.  I'll stick with it.  Two months from now, with skill and bit of luck, that postage stamp will have turned into 10,000 square feet ready for planting corn, pumpkins, squash and grains for the animals and hopefully not the deer and groundhogs that tend to chew masterpieces into disappointment. 

The almost empty greenhouse waits for ideas, a syllabus for a fall class deserves attention, and....

"Tomorrow," says Virginia.  "Some things can wait for tomorrow." 

Yeh, I think I'll go see if any more chicks are hatching.

Fun/Work

In 1978 or 1979, my piano instructor at the University of North Carolina, where I attended law school the rest of the day, said, "I envy you.  Whenever you play piano, it's fun.  Whenever I play piano, it's work."

A few weeks ago, I enjoyed digging a few post holes, not all 51.  Last year, after practicing Schumann for 4 months, I looked forward to an hour of sight-reading. A month ago, 2 hours cutting up a hog became the "same old same old."  When we bought Elk Cliff Farm, spading a new garden begged me to buy a tractor.

"Attention deficit disorder," says Virginia.  "Get a life."

I used to like her, or maybe she's kidding.

"You're spoiled," she laughs, "not nearly hungry enough."

That's partly true.  In younger days, punching a time clock was standard operating procedure.  It made no sense to dwell on other ways of using time.  Besides, the life ahead seemed endless.  Unless Kurzweil is right, endless now has an endpoint.

I think it's important to keep trying to number the points in between as almost infinite, so at night one sentence cannot describe the entire day (unless maybe you're a master of long sentences, like Faulkner or Joyce).

Mending Fences and Mining the Freezer

The new fence appears to be working, fingers crossed.  To get in, the chickens must either fly over or hike 240 feet to the fence's end.  If they take the hike, adding another 10 or 15 feet to close the rectangle will be an easy fix compared to what we've already done.

So yesterday I removed what had become a ratty yellow mess, the mesh fence around the winter wheat.  I could have torn it down, pulled out the stakes and been done with it.  A friend would say I have too much time on my hands for that, which I think puts the cart before the horse.  I like to think I'm past believing my time is better spent in "productive" use when I could pay someone "less than I'm worth" to do this kind of work. I enjoy repetitive, useless endeavors such as removing the metal staples that held the yellow mesh to wooden stakes.  For me, it's meditative, like shelling peas, pulling weeds, and, sometimes, translating regulatory gobbledygook.  Everyone should be paid the same for the work they do.

"Tell me another one," says Virginia.  "You'd gripe about Johnny sitting on his arse all day, except for his smoke breaks every hour or two."

Good point.  Ummm, how about let's appreciate the folks who do well the things we don't want to do by treating them like ourselves and paying them fairly?

Moving on...after shelling a few bushels of peas, what happens to them?  They get buried in our chest freezer and we can't find them.  Last night we attacked that problem.  We unloaded the deep-freeze and repacked everything.  It was like a trip to the grocery store when everything is free.  Pears, apples, strawberries, and raspberries galore!  Sweet corn and peas coming out our ears!  Local lamb, venison, chicken, and goat!  Squash, tomato sauce, sweet peppers, green beans.

I looked at Karen and realized she was running recipes through her head.  Mouth watering, I made a chart of where the ingredients are stored.

More on Growth

Let's return to the idea of growth, which includes a variety of concepts.  Andy Kessler says an "economy" is a "system that increases the standard of living of its participants."  He offers examples of technologies that have increased our standard of living, such as Dell PCs, Apple products, animated films like "Toy Story" and "Schrek," Oracle databases, Microsoft spreadsheets, Intel processors, Google search engines, Facebook, eBay, Amazon.  Going farther back, he points to the steam turbine, vacuum cleaner, electric dishwasher, X-ray tube, flash-freezing process, refrigerator and air-conditioner, and microwave oven.  All of these developments disrupted the status quo and many helped us live longer and better.

"Us."  You and me.  Whether they have helped mankind live longer and better has yet to be determined.

Maybe you've heard of "singularity," the cover story in Time last week -- "the moment when technological change becomes so rapid and profound, it represents a rupture in the fabric of human history."  Raymond Kurzweil and others picture the moment when computers become more intelligent than humans, and humanity will be transformed.  Kurzweil, whose name is on the electronic keyboard that in some ways freed this pianist from reliance on sometimes klunker pianos, predicts this moment to occur by 2045.

If true, computers will be able to do everything we do, but better, including composing music, writing books, painting pictures, inventing things, and carrying on dinner conversations (while they eat who knows what, or not).  What could this do to humans?  Our roles on Earth or wherever we live would drastically change, science fiction become real.  There we are, 35 years from now, with artificial intelligence a fact of life, and death, illness, and old age "cured" by superior intelligence.  What do we do?

Some say this will never happen, that the human body is not a purely bio-chemical system that can be manipulated into perpetual existence -- or that can be simulated and reverse-engineered into a computer. 

"Whatever," says Virginia, "we're still in charge of our fate."

I think she's right, and we're responsible for defining what an "increased standard of living" is.  I'm not ready to give up the conveniences technology has brought us, but I'm also unwilling to declare that they have improved our standard of living, speaking in solidarity terms (that is, in terms of humankind, past, present and future).  Among other things, they may have brought us to the edge of the precipice, what some religionists welcome as the "second coming."  Where will growth take us next?  The persons with the right answers might save humanity, they might become the next billionaires, or they might walk us over the cliff.

Sanctuary

On Monday we saw the end of hog butchering (see "Bless this Hog," February 7).  Today we saw the beginning, not quite the beginning, although we heard it.  Our role was to help with the scalding, hair removal, and hoisting of the clean "hog on a pole."  I think our host expected all of us to yell "hog on a pole" when we reached that step.  He said it alone, without a cheer.  Mostly we watched, glad our roles were not reversed.

Our instructor claimed we were engaged in the olden way, the way this has been done for many years, with little change, to be distinguished from the way it's now done in factories and slaughterhouses.

As on Monday, I left the place unsettled.  Returning to our driveway was like entering a sanctuary.  I breathed a sigh of relief and felt grateful for plants.  Do they scream when they're picked or pulled?  Just yesterday, a friend promised that if you lie between rows of immature corn in quiet summertime, you could hear it grow, along with crickets crunching.  I doubt what you hear is a hum or a sigh, certainly not enough to suggest a scream when picked, although tearing off an ear makes a noise.

Why was home peaceable?  Over there, in clear view, was the turkey killing tree.  Have the wind, rain and snow, or simply time, purified the atmosphere, like exorcists?

"Nonsense," says Virginia, "the remoteness of events answers the question.  No aura, no spirits."

Will we raise a pig?  I don't know.  It could be the best way to prepare my field garden, which continues to baffle me -- not because I don't know how, but because of the time it requires.  I could invite a tractor for a visit, or a pig.  Maybe we should try the goats first.  Having made fairly quick work of the post holes for my other garden fence, which I hope to finish this next week, I may consider knocking out another 50 holes around the field garden -- and then setting up paddocks for the rest of the field.  Good exercise.

Tapping Local Resources

We finally took Larry's advice.  We tapped some of our sugar maples.  Walk by a tree and you'll hear drip-drip-dripping until it gets too cold this evening.  It'll resume in the morning after the sun warms the trees.   We'll keep an eye on the buckets, empty them as they fill, and briefly store the sap in shiny new metal garbage cans.

Thanks go to Susan, who brought wood for the fire on which her pans will boil the sap down to syrup, and to Pat, who contributed a bunch of Fresh Step cat litter buckets.  Karen bought a few old-fashioned metal buckets and spiles with hooks, so a couple trees look classy.  She also cut a copper pipe and a PVC tube into 3-inch pieces, to go with the tacky plastic buckets.

They seem to work equally well, the tacky and the classy, as usual -- which reminds me of Burberry scarves for some reason.  Without a Burberry coat, what's a Burberry scarf?  Sort of like a Mercedes with a dent in the side or a broken turn signal lens -- proof that you can't afford the car.

This also reminds me, for some reason, of yesterday's blog ("Keep $$ Local"), which so far hasn't drawn anyone's wrath.  I'm serious, we could have a movement here.  If you're truly upset with giant banks, the kind whose failure could have a systemic impact on our financial system, and you think Congress isn't doing anything to stem their growth or continued existence, walk your money home.  If enough people did this, no bank would be "too big to fail."

"It may remind you," says Virginia, "but what possible connection is there?"

I guess whenever I think of harvesting maple syrup, I think of growing vegetables, milking goats, making cheese, and doing all those other things most Americans used to do at home.  Doing them these days is like money in the bank.  Back then, folks didn't send their money (they probably didn't have any to send) to faraway places and unknown people.  They'd either stick it under a mattress, earning about as much interest as banks pay us today, or trot into town to visit George Bailey.

[By the way, this is my 400th blog entry.  Should I continue?]

"Keep $$ Local:" Too Big to Fail -- What We Can Do About It

We -- you and I -- share responsibility for "too big too fail."  You know, the idea that certain large financial institutions are so important to our financial system that the government must not allow them to fail.  I've heard and read a lot of griping about this, but unless we already limit our financial dealings to the smaller firms, we're adding to the problem.

Financial reform, through the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act, is supposed to take care of this -- so taxpayer funds aren't used again to bail out the big guys.  Maybe Dodd-Frank will solve the problem, maybe it won't.  We can leave that argument for others to fuss about.  In the meantime, we're not completely powerless.

Since the bailouts, we've watched big institutions swallow more little ones.  We've heard about their big bonuses.  We've seen them mishandle mortgage servicing and foreclosures, by using robosigners and being unable to produce supporting documents (such as the promissory notes signed by borrowers).

Yesterday, JP Morgan Chase Bank apologized to active military service members for not paying attention to provisions of the Service Members Civil Relief Act (SCRA), which requires lenders to lower interest rates to 6% and refrain from foreclosing (after becoming aware that customers are on active duty).  This isn't rocket science.  Banks have no excuse for not understanding the SCRA and other laws.  They've been bombarded with articles, book updates, and agency issuances on these topics.

We can complain all we want about bungling by the big guys, to little avail, or we can do something about "too big to fail."  What institutions handle your financial affairs?  Big ones or smaller, local ones?

If your answer is "big ones," then move your money.  Bring it home to firms you know and trust.  And keep an eye on developments.  If a big firm buys the small one you've been using, move your money again.

"Hey, a grass roots revolution!" says Virginia.  "We have the power.  We can do something."

We certainly can try.  We may be surprised by the products and services available through small institutions.  They've changed over the years, and now offer most if not all of what the big ones offer, at least for people like you and me.  Check out your local banks and credit unions.

"What about mortgage payments?" says Virginia.

Well, you might not be able to do much about them.  If you borrowed from a local firm, it may have sold your mortgage loan to a big firm.  Even if you refinance, that loan might be sold, too, although you could shop around for a firm that says it doesn't plan to sell its loans.  If enough people demanded this, the market would have to change to accommodate it.

We've seen "buy fresh, buy local" take off.  How about "invest local, keep your $$ local?"

-- Get rid of big name credit cards.  Keep $$ Local!
-- Move your checking and savings accounts.  Keep $$ Local!
-- If you must finance a car, home improvement, whatever, do it nearby.  Keep $$ Local!
-- Refinance with a community bank, savings association, or credit union.  Keep $$ Local!
-- Bring your stock and bond investments closer to home.  Keep $$ Local!

Of course, you can write your legislators, too.  But don't forget.  Put your money where your mouth is.

Preliminary Thoughts on Growth

Go east, south, west, if you want growth -- to China, Turkey, India or Brazil.  We seem to be maxed out here at home in the U.S.

"But the stock market," says Virginia, "it's up, what, 20% in the past year?  Isn't that a good sign?"

It feels good, maybe, so long as we forget the high unemployment rate, all the people who've given up looking for work, the low rise in our gross domestic product (GDP) compared to what we used to see, the fact that many of the companies in the Dow Jones Industrial Average or other market averages earned half their revenues overseas, and our huge national deficit.  A lot of psychology runs the "market."

"Retail sales were up last month, right?" Virginia adds.

I guess so.  Where did the money come from to buy those things?  I read somewhere that our savings rate clicked downward, folks drew on money market and investment accounts, while incomes lifted a tad.  Maybe we're "recovering" from the concern about over-extension we had a year ago and we're ready to resume our bad habits.

Some "experts" say economic data has become more volatile and we should expect more frequent recessions in the next decade or two, say every three years or so.  I guess recessions are likely because our growth rate is so low.  It wouldn't take much to tip it below zero now and then...a recession.  We can't count on growth to bring in more taxes to pay for higher government "investment," so we'll: (1) go deeper into debt; (2) raise tax rates; and/or (3) cut government programs  

Something's got to give.  A serious attitude adjustment is in order.  Ordinary Americans will need to revise our expectations.  So much for the sizable salary raises we used to expect.  Goodbye tax breaks.  We may need to save up for things we really want, which will give us time to decide whether we really want them.

"Keeping up with the Joneses" may take on a different flavor.
     -- "Hey, how about a coupon exchange, I brought my scrapbook along?"
     -- "I'm glad we raised an extra hog; we'll trade sausage for sweet corn."
     -- "I've done that before; here, help me split this pile of wood, then we'll build your fence."
     -- "My mower broke; I'll give your child piano lessons if you'll mow my lawn."
     -- "Wow, your garden looks great; what did you do to keep the cabbage worms away?"
     -- "You know, I thought about applying for that job, but it made more sense to work at home; I don't need a car and gasoline to gather sap from our maple trees and expand the planting -- besides, the exercise is good for me...and I won't need a new wardrobe."

"Definitely sounds retro," says Virginia, "while the Egyptians say 'stick-it-to-the-man,' we could support each other.  Think 'victory gardens' times ten."

Or a thousand, this time permanently -- unless a post-information technology revolution comes along, created by a new generation of innovators.  Go kids, go!

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world.  The unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself.  Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."  George Bernard Shaw

We're Spoiled (and Stuck)

As folks scramble to cope with homes and schools that aren't warm, the suggestion that we pile on clothes and blankets instead of buying generators and installing other back-up heating devices has a certain appeal. I realize it's not an answer for everyone, especially those with less than perfect health, and it won't keep pipes from freezing.  I'm afraid I was kind of drawn to the governor of Pennsylvania's criticism of the cancelling of a professional football game due to weather ("you wimps") -- that he didn't think would have happened in certain other parts of the world.

"We're spoiled," says Virginia.  "We have to be able to run around naked indoors in the winter and fully clothed in the summertime."

I'm tempted to read "Air-Conditioning America" by Gail Cooper or "Cool Comfort: America's Romance with Air-Conditioning" by Marsha Ackerman, which I understand examine how HVAC technology transformed American expectations and the definition of comfort.  For most of time, humans have managed quite well without heated or cooled homes.  Now we've designed ourselves into them.  We're stuck.

One of these days, not today, I want to return to our obsession with growth.  For example, we refuse to invest in companies that don't present us with the expectation of above-average growth.  We view a country as a failure if its GDP doesn't grow as fast as those of other countries.  Inherent in this growth obsession is a tendency to get stuck -- in that we make it virtually impossible to return to a previous, perhaps more reasonable state, because it's "primitive" or too much like the life of "pioneers" -- and at the same time we also might be making the return inevitable because our lifestyle becomes unsustainable on Earth (i.e., a Catch-22).  I think a very serious paradigm shift is inevitable.

"I think you lied when you said 'one of these days, not today,'" says Virginia.  "It's still today."

All right.  Goodbye, folks.

Doing What You Want

Don't procrastinate!  As I check off writing deadlines one by one, doing the work that brings in the bacon, I think of the poems, stories, music and other stuff that doesn't get written or done.  How many of us postpone doing what we say we want to do while slogging away at something else?

"Who are you to talk?" says Virginia.  "You don't need to hustle off to an 8-to-6 job, risk getting fired if you don't, or struggle making ends meet payday to payday."

She doesn't really know, but I'd have to admit, like many if not most people my age in this country, my situation isn't the same as the majority of twenty- or thirty-somethings.  It's tough for the strugglers to find time to do what they really want, although I think they can.

The first step might be to convince yourself that you really want to do what you want to do.  Frankly, if you're not finding time to do it, you probably don't want to do it enough.  Think of what you find time to do.  Sketch out your day.  Sleep as late as possible? Clean house?  Mow the lawn?  Sit and talk to strangers while your laundry spins?  Email, "talk" on Facebook, watch television, play golf?  All those things are perfectly fine activities, but if they're not that thing you really want to do, then what's up?

Next, focus on what you're missing.  A writer, artist or composer knows he or she forfeits product each day that passes without practicing the medium.  Ideas disappear or fail to appear in the first place, and then they're gone for good.  If a writer writes, he or she has something to show for it.  If the writer doesn't write, there's zip.  Some day, looking back, he or she may say, gosh, if only I'd....  The same is true whatever you want to do -- knitting, learning automobile mechanics, singing, walking, exercising, starting a business, growing a garden.

That's enough.  I'm going to work on that trio.

Old Milwaukee, the Cadillac of Furnaces

Every now and then we need to clean the catalytic converter on our wood stove. This requires a complete shutdown and cooldown and means for a couple days we get to rely exclusively on our antique Old Milwaukee oilburner. According to one repairman, it was the Cadillac of furnaces 50 or 60 years ago, "we can still get parts," and it'll chug along forever with consistent maintenance. He even said he'd keep it instead of buying a new, much more efficient furnace. Ironically, I agree except in the summertime, when it'd be nice to have central cooling. Because we use it as a backup and supplementary to our wood stove, it may not make a whole lot of sense to replace it.

When we bought this house, we paid $1,000 or so to fill the 500-gallon tank and it lasted 18 months. We refilled it half way a couple weeks ago, figuring we don't want much oil sitting around if we decide to get a HVAC unit this year. You can do the math. How long would it take to make a new furnace pay for itself? Very long, unless oil prices went sky high.

"How can we figure?" says Virginia. "You didn't say how much a new furnace costs."

Well, if you figure we spent $500 per winter the past 3 winters, that suggests a very long payoff period. The $4,000 furnace we put in our little cottage lasted 8 years, the same period someone else mentioned from their recent experience. $500 per year times 8 takes us to $4,000, but that doesn't include whatever fuel runs it. Yes, a furnace should last longer than that, but how much longer? Not as long as the Old Milwaukee, bet your booty.

So here we are with a classic choice. Would buying a new furnace be better for the environment? Hmmm. A few years ago I posed a similar question to someone promoting hybrid cars. Should we hold onto our 15-year old Volvo that continues to be very dependable or should we exchange it for a new vehicle? It would save fuel going forward, but what about the cost of producing the new car and the cost of junking the old one? His answer was, keep the old one and buy an efficient new one when it conks out.

"You're comparing apples and oranges," says Virginia.

She's right. A new furnace would offer several advantages: (1) more efficient use of the energy source; (2) as we age we may prefer not having to hunt for firewood, so our $500 per year cost could go through the roof (see, we have costs beyond $500 -- gas for the chain saw, blood, sweat and tears); and (3) a new unit could also cool this hot house in the summertime. Besides, we might be able to find a unit with very low operational costs, such as a geothermal or solar option. And the longer we wait, the more options might present themselves.

I'm not interested enough to do gobs of research at the moment. Maybe you can help me with suggestions.

Judge Me Not

I've been self-employed for 17 years, except for one 18-month diversion prefaced by a wiser brother's "why would you want to do that?"  Januarys tend to welcome me to each new year with a reminder of the benefits, as if I need one, such as -- when the inevitable snow falls or ice gathers, I can admire it through a window or retrieve my cross-country skis from the barn.  In fact, it's a perfectly good excuse to stay inside and get some work done, work I then won't have to do on balmy Spring-like days.

This January has been no exception.  As a result, I've immersed myself in court decisions.  Today I read one that worried me a bit because it contradicted something I've written.  I almost left it dangling, certain to pester me in the middle of the night when a train waked me and sent me to the bathroom.  One of the advantages of advancing age is a tendency not to procrastinate about things like this.

According to the judge, a provision of the financial reform bill (Dodd-Frank Act) relating to the Truth-in-Lending Act did not take effect until January 1, 2011, the first day of "the taxable year" following enactment of Dodd-Frank.  I didn't remember this.  In fact, I remembered using too many words to explain what I thought were possible effective dates, none of which was January 1, 2011.

So I pulled up the Act and searched for the words quoted by the judge as calling for January 1, 2011.  They appeared once in the Act, at its very end, after the last section:  "(b) EFFECTIVE DATE.—The amendments made by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after the date of the enactment of this Act."

"You're boring your readers," says Virginia.  "Cut to the chase."

All right.  The section referred to has nothing to do with the topic the judge was addressing.  The effective date for that topic lies elsewhere.

"Assuming your search function worked," says Virginia.

Yes, good point, but I'm not going to spend half of tomorrow reading the bill word by word, something I've already done several times.

Nosey Neighbors

"Your greenhouse sure is empty," says Virginia.  "Why don't you fill it with pots and get started?  Stick a heater in if a night's going to be too cold?"

I don't want to use a heater, which might not only be expensive but might burn the place down.

"What's the point, then, for having it?" she says.  "You could set up a hydroponic garden and grow tilapia or perch in the water."

Patience, patience.  Some day that may happen.  Remember, the greenhouse arrived at the end of Fall.  I didn't have a chance to get things going this season.

"Oh, come on," she says. "You've managed to finish a bunch of book updates, run hundreds of miles, practice piano for a couple concerts, and write a few poems.  Certainly you could have devoted some time to the greenhouse."

Yeah, well, get off my back.  You're probably feeling neglected yourself, like the woman who says our donkey's too thin.  Go ahead, sick the greenhouse protection society on me.

(Some people need to listen instead of talk so much.)