Wishful Thinking

My local supper for a warm summer night: Broccoli from Good Thyme Farm in Linden; dill pickles made by Joze Kouwenberg in Wallace Bay; and our eggs.
Shame on me: Too lazy to make my own salad dressing to use as dip.
And that's just it. I have this fantasy of being self-sufficient and crafty, of having a roadside stand to sell our creations, of keeping goats to make our own cheese, perhaps even having animals for our own meat. But fantasy crashes and burns with reality.
One reality is we don't have a barn!
Every spring, we say we're going to make jam and mustard pickles and chow and beets; we say we're going to freeze strawberries and rhubarb, beans and peas. I see a photo of driftwood art and think, 'I could do that' and my husband actually bought some welding equipment when I said I would love to learn how to make my own metal garden ornaments.
Okay, that last one: Way out in fantasyland. Yet I'm entirely sincere. I really want to do that, all those things, in fact.
The reality is that I don't have time. Or I don't make time. Time management is likely the biggest obstacle to my quest for homemade and handmade. I could be creating a giant daisy right now instead of writing this post. Hand me my welding shield, would ya?
Likely the truth is that most of these are things I've not done before so there is some educating, some reading up, some practising that needs to be done before I attempt to, well, maybe not make jam, done that, but use a welding torch. Even a driftwood wreath requires going out searching for the driftwood and figuring out how the whole thing stays together.
Yet the more you do something -- like paint a beach scene or make dill pickles -- the easier it is becomes. The easier it becomes the more readily one does it. It becomes a habit, an urge, an addiction.
Pickling and jamming and welding as addictions? Food for thought.