What does my husband think about me not working? Or Did I just become a housewife?

“If you go back to work,” he said between bites of steaming pumpkin gratin, “the food just won’t be as good.”

Well, fine, he said it in French, and he was joking–sort of.  But we have discussed this seriously as well.  I’m considering not going back to the 9-5 EVER.  And probably not going back to the 6-5 schedule of a public school teacher.  Right now we can survive on one salary, which gives me time to brainstorm–and hopefully become self-employed at a much slower pace than in my previous life.  It may mean less money for both of us, although there’s no way of knowing for sure what I’ll earn in self-employment.

So what does my husband think about this plan?  I cornered him one day, because I wondered.  Would he resent going to work while I staid at home? Would he find it annoying and fluffy that I decided to take some time out to really think things over–to do some ’soul searching.’  That’s a luxury not everyone has, after all.  Did he resent me?

Apparently not.  First of all, he likes it because I’ve taken on all of the household duties–and I do mean all.  I make food, do errands, fix the sink, take out the trash, take care of the banking, bills, paperwork and deal with government bureaucracy (a significant pastime in France!).  So when he comes home, he is just . . . home.  He can just. . . relax.  He seemed to think that this was very satisfying.

He also pointed out that I am much less stressed, so he, in turn, is more relaxed.  And, he added, he knows that living in a village in the South of France is not exactly conducive to my finding full-time employment, but he is so excited to be here that he doesn’t really care.  It’s true that we may not be able to have it all–that is, a high paying career for me and a life in the French countryside.

The strangest thing he said was that he thought it wasn’t weird at all for me to deal with the logistics of the home and for him to work–he pointed out that families had done things that way for decades.  Now that blew my mind.  It sounded so . . . un-feminist. Our mothers didn’t stay home, I pointed out.  They both worked . . . (and did all the housework too, come to think of it).

From the start, I had imagined that my husband and I would both work and then share the household duties.  Although, I must say that even when I spent more hours working than he did and earned more money, I still did far more than half of the household chores, and it was clear to me that it would be a long road to travel if I wanted to split the work up ‘fifty-fifty.’  It was a very tough way to live.

So what does this all mean?   One way of looking at it is that we’ve found a solution for dividing up the housework/homemaking and the income producing activities that works for us, and we’re both happy with it.  Another way of looking at it, is that we’re living like a couple from the 1960’s–without the valium.  I’m not sure if I’m trying some brave new thing or going back to something completely old, and well, suspect.  I mean, didn’t society try this already once before?  Apparently someone decided it wasn’t working out.

Still, lately, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about an experience I had in Mexico about 3 years ago.  I rented a room from a family for a little over a month while learning Spanish, and the lady of  the house really mothered all of us.  She had her adult son, his fiancé plus a couple of other adult renters in the house.  I absolutely fell in love with having a hot breakfast ready everyday (and a warm conversation to boot),  dinner ready when I got home, someone to ask me how my day went and someone who was always there with a cup of warm milk and a Mexican soap opera when I was up late.  It was the most comforting experience of my entire life.  The home was always so orderly, welcoming and just happy.

The whole Mexican experience reminds me think of something my aunt once said (she’s a very hard working woman and a mother of two): “Sometimes, I just need a wife.”  I remember feeling exactly that after a really long, crappy day at work–coming home to a house that needs cleaning, peering into the fridge and realizing it will be difficult to piece anything resembling a meal together.  Stumbling around my stressed out husband as he tries to make sense of our bills and mail and offering no comfort to him whatsoever.

This is one thing my husband and I can both agree on–it’s great to have someone who has time to make sure that everyone is comfortable and happy and functioning.  I asked him if he wished he was the one doing this job right now, and he said he didn’t think he’d be very good at it.  So, I guess it’s a role that falls to me.   It may not take all my time, but it certainly takes a lot longer to care for ourselves than we previously admitted–and it feels good to finally make caring for ourselves a priority.

What can you make with a pumpkin? (Pumpkin recipes–part 1)

I always feel homesick for the United States around Halloween.  Growing up, it was my favorite holiday, and the French really don’t celebrate it.  Luckily, there are still plenty of festive fall colors and harvest treasures in France–including the small, gumdrop shaped pumkin or ‘potimaron’ I bought yesterday.  Its shape is like nothing I’ve seen in the US but its flavor is similar to a sugar pumpkin you’d find in the US–something dark and rich that you’d use for pie, for example.

First, I cut the pumpkin into quarters, removed the seeds and the pulp and dropped it into a pressure cooker with a little water in the bottom.  I brought the pressure cooker to a boil.  I then cut the heat and let my pumpkin steam for about 10 minutes.  I’m a novice at the pressure cooker, but I far prefer this method than baking!   ( You can also chop the pumpkin into quarters, oil it a bit and put it in a pan with a little water in the bottm which you bake in the oven for about an hour at 375. )

Once you have cooked pumpkin–and once it is cool enough to handle–take remove the flesh from the skin, place it in a bowl and squash it with a potato masher, fork or wooden spoon.  I came out with about 4 cups of pulp.  Here’s what I did with it:

I used half of the pulp to make pumpkin bread. (Note, I make all kinds of breads out of soured milk, baking soda, fruits, veggies and whole grains.  Literally you can use almost any combination of liquids and flour as long as you taste along the way (until you put in the eggs) and come out with a mix that is liquid enough to be poured–like a thick cake mix. You can make them more or less healthy or rich depending upon the ingredients you choose.)

• 2 cups pumpkin pulp
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 to 1 cup sugar (I used raw sugar, you can use brown, white, molasses, maple syrup or even honey)
• Spices (I used 1/2 tsp of ginger, nutmeg, and cloves and 1/2 tsp cinnamon, but you can also use fresh chopped or candied ginger,  nutmeg, pumpkin spice, cardamom–I suggest tasting along the way!)
• 1/4 canola or veggie oil
• 1 1/2 c milk
• 1 tsp vinegar or lemon juice
• 2 o 2 1/2 cups oats or 5 cereal mix (you can also skip this and add 3/4 cup more flour OR substitute for 3/4 cup of oat bran)
• 2 cups whole wheat flour–or really any kind of flour you choose! (You will need a little more if you go with liquid sweeteners like honey or molasses)
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 cup walnuts (or any other kind of nuts)
• 1/2 cup raisins (or dried currants or cranberries or apple chunks. . .)
• additional goodies

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and set aside 2 greased 9′ round cake pans or 2 rectangular bread pans–or muffin tins etc.
2. In a small bowl mix the milk and the vinegar and let the whole thing sour and thicken for a bout 5 minutes while you do the next step (unless you have buttermilk!  Then you can just use that.)
3. In a large bowl, mix pumpkin, spices and sugar (or sweeteners) and taste!  I like my pumpkin bread spicy, but you may not. Also, you may choose to adjust the amount of sugar or sweetener to your taste–I find it takes less honey than, say sugar.  Also, you may choose different spices if you decide on molasses or maple syrup as sweeteners.  Experiment!  It’s good for you.
4. Stir in the eggs, oil and soured milk (or buttermilk) until all is well-blended.
5. Stir in the oats or 5 grain cereal mix (I tend to use the 5-grain cereal, which seems to take longer to cook than oats, so I let it soak in the mixture for a bout 10 minutes before the next step–your choice).
6. Technically, you should now mix together in yet another bowl the baking soda, flour and salt, then incorporate it into the pumpkin mix little by little, (but that’s not what I do, I just add everything right into the pumpkin mix. . . I know, I know, you can’t take me seriously anymore)
7. Place in your greased baking sheets.
8. Bake for 35-40 minutes depending upon the size of the tins you’ve used.  A knife inserted into the middle should come out clean when done.

Spicy Pumpkin and rice soup–Using the liquid I had leftover from boiling the pumpkin in the pressure cooker.

• 3-4 cups leftover pumpkin stock (with chunks is OK!)
• 2 cups cooked rice (I used basmati, which works well because it stays firm.)
• 1 chopped onion
• 1 chopped tomato
• 2 tbsp butter or olive oil
• 2 tsp cumin seeds, 1 tsp powdered coriander, 1/4 tsp tumeric, 1/4 tsp ginger (or whatever you have, curry powder or masala mix works well too)
• 2 tsp salt
• chopped cilantro as garnish if desired.

1. Add the pumpkin broth and any chunks/scraps to a saucepan with the rice and begin to heat.
2. In a frying pan add the butter or the oil and the cumin seeds and let them warm on medium heat until the cumin seeds start to sizzle.  When the seeds smell fragrant, add the onion and stir until translucent.
3. Add the ground spices and the chopped tomato to the frying pan and allow the flavors to mingle.
4. Add the contents of the frying pan to the sauce pan, stir and simmer quickly.
5. Serve hot–add cilantro if desired.

Pumkin gratin

• 2 cups cooked pumpkin (you can also add/substitute mashed potato if you like!)
• 1/2 cup heavy cream (I know, I know, you can cut it down or leave it out if you want to, but I like it!)
• 4 eggs
• 1 onion–chopped
• 2 tbsp oil
• 1/2 to 1 cup grated swiss, gruyere, or other solid but tasty cheese.  The stronger it tastes the less you need to use.
• 2 tsp herbs de provence
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp pepper

1. In a saucepan, heat the oil and carmelize the onion, then set asside.
2. In a mixing bowl, beat the eggs and cream together, then add the pumpking, salt and herbs.
3. Stir in the onions and all but 1/4 cup of the cheese.
4. Pour the mixture into a greased baking dish–a 9-10′ deep pie dish or cake pan should do.
5. Top with the remaining cheese.
6. Bake in the oven for 40-45 minutes at 375.
7. Serve with a green salad–possibly with some toasted nuts on it. . .

Motivation and creativity without a career

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by all the things I could possibly do now that I’m not working.   In fact, my learning curve in the past two months has been rather amazing in several areas–bread making, pottery and bike maintenance are all examples.  New ideas pop into my head constantly, and I have to put them on hold because, even without an extra 60 hours of work a week, my time is still limited, after all.

What a drastic change from waking up practically stunned on Saturday mornings after a long week of hyperfocusing on my career! I used to spend about two hours every Saturday just sipping coffee and regaining consciousness.  Then I’d ask myself, “Uh. . . what should I do now?”  By the time the stunned sensation wore off, it was usually time to go back to work.  I’m sure I was creative and had ideas, it was just that all of that energy was channeled into my work.  There were so many things I didn’t have time to do.  There were so many things I didn’t have the energy to question.

Now the motivation to do so many things that I ‘should‘ be doing by normal standards has totally dried up.  Take my driving classes, for example.  Yes, yes, everyone tells me I must get my license so that I can work here, but the process is so ridiculous in France.  There are so many strange little hoops to jump through.  Combine that with the fact that I’m beginning to think that life without the car is pretty good, and I’m left with very little motivation whatsoever.  I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t be conserving my energy to use in more interesting ways–like looking for work that doesn’t require driving at all.

The same goes with jumping through the hoops that would be required for me to become a teacher in this country.  Memorizing information that is irrelevant to the profession, so that I can pass a test that is not really related to teaching or to my subject matter (much less to real life)–well, I just don’t know if I can make myself do it anymore.  That was the initial plan, but it doesn’t make sense to me now.   There are other, more relevant ways I can contribute to society.  There are other, more relevant ways I can contribute to the survival of our little family.  I’m not sure I want to spend my time and creativity solving this particular problem.  There may be something much more deserving of my efforts.

An extra 60 hours a week of time spent the way I feel like spending it has made my brain grow sharp and discerning.   I’m loosing the habit of doing something I think isn’t worthwhile just because the person who sends me my paycheck tells me to, and the space to question has changed the way I look at everything.  I find that these days, I really need to know WHY I’m doing something.  If there isn’t some compelling reason–helping someone else, imrpoving something or directly contributing to society or insuring the survival of our little family of 2, then I have a very hard time making myself do it.   That scared me at first.  It still scares me a little.

But I think my time is better spent doing absolutely nothing than chasing my own tail.  It’s amazing the kinds of solutions and ideas my mind comes up with when left iddle for a while.

Frugal Versus Fair

Obviously, now more than ever, people are looking at the price of the things they consume very carefully.  I myself have a knee-jerk tendency to buy less expensive things.  When faced with a similar product for sale by several vendors, it makes immediate sense to choose the cheapest, right?

Except that in France (like in the US), that kind of practice is putting a serious pinch on local, small scale agricultural producers.  How do you think the supermarkets can afford to keep their prices low and still earn a profit?  At least in France, the supermarket decides the price at which it will buy the given item–milk, melons, apples, whatever.  If that price is under the price the farmer needs to make a profit, he or she is S.O.L.   Putting local producers out of business seems like a terribly unwise decision in an economic climate where food that is mass-produced and then transported all over the world is becoming increasingly expensive and unsustainable.

Many argue that buying local or organic food is a luxury that is only for the economically privileged, but if you’re reading this blog, there’s a strong chance that you are economically privileged by global standards.  If you wanted to, you could check and see just how economically privileged you were by using the following site: http://www.globalrichlist.com/ which will inform you that if you earn 18,000 euros a year or 25,000 dollars, you are still among the richest 10% in the world.  What that means is that we really do have a choice.  We can choose to buy fewer and cheaper clothes, not to have a cell phone, not own as many electronics and toys, etc.  I know too many people with money problems in the US and in France  who eat fast food, who buy expensive brand-name shoes and clothes and pay a lot for haircuts, for example.  These are all optional items.  I’m sure you can think of more optional items you really enjoy, but that you could live without–I know I can.  Now, this is not to deny that some really do live in very difficult economic circumstances, but please ask yourself if that really applies to you or not.

My husband and I know what it’s like to live on a budget.  Still, when choosing between two seemingly similar products, I try to ask myself the following questions:

• Will paying extra allow a local farmer to earn a profit? (in the case of our flour purchases, for example).
• How much profit is going to the producers of this product and how much is going to the intermediary sellers? (as in supermarket foods).
• How was this product raised or produced?  What were the workers paid?  What was the cost to the environment?

If you want people to keep producing food locally, you have to pay them a reasonable wage for their work.  When our wine supplier raised the price of a 5 liter vat of wine by 1.5 euros, we didn’t switch to wine we could get in the supermarket.  We knew he raised his prices because he needed to in order to continue to make a profit, thus continuing to locally produce a product we enjoy.  The same goes for the local fruit and vegetable vendors.  Now, I’m not saying that sometimes, a local vendor might not try to exaggerate when it comes to pricing or cut corners when it comes to quality, but the supermarket practice of bullying producers into selling at prices they can’t afford is unfair and unwise.  It favors factory-style agriculture,  producers that cut corners with quality, safety and the environment and employers who don’t pay their workers a living wage.

Regardless of how tight our budget is and how much we’d like to learn to spend less, there are some corners that we cannot cut in good conscience.

‘Hay box’ cooking

Hay box, hot box, thermal cooker–whatever you call it, it’s great!

I’ve been experimenting with hay box/hot box cooking for about a month now and I don’t think I’ll ever go back. When I first read about it, the idea intrigued me.  Had our ancestors all over the world in cultures from Africa, India, Norway to the pioneers of the US really been using this simple and practical technique for so long?

Apples stewed in the hot box.

The idea seemed so ingeniously simple: bring your food to a boil in a large pot for a short time in the morning, then transfer everything to a box filled with hay (or other insulation) and let the warm, insulated bundle keep cooking until you’re ready to eat in the evening.  It’s kind of like a crock pot except you don’t have to buy a crock pot, or have some electrical item plugged in and sucking energy while left unattended in your house all day.  Instead of using cooking fuel for 3 hours to boil beans, you could just boil them for 10 minutes and then leave them all day in the hot box.  We eat a lot of beans, so this seemed like a pretty good plan to us.

How to build a hay box:

I checked out MANY different websites describing how to make a haybox and how to construct one. Some involved building your own wood box and filling it with hay.  Some homes had a special insulated drawer built into their kitchen cabinetry, others used foam padding as insulating material and the hot box even served as an extra stool.  All of these seemed like fabulous ideas, but what I really discovered from my research was that you could build a hay box out of almost anything!  So I set about gathering materials I had on hand.

My own "hay box" from reused materials.

Building your own thermal cooker out of reused materials:

*Basic* Materials: Since we’d just moved, we had a plethora of large cardboard boxes and some leftover newspaper, paper and other packing materials.  I also saved up some cardboard and paper food packaging that I normally would have recycled.  I shredded/chopped up smaller bits of paper and cardboard until I had quite a bit of ‘hay-like’ substance.

My idea was to capture as much air as possible, thus creating a good insulating system. I then tossed the shredded paper and cardboard into the large box, nested a much smaller box inside where I’d put my pot (to keep the paper shreds away from my pot–I thought that might get messy!).  I wrapped the pot in an old sweatshirt, dropped it in the small box and nested the small box in my ‘hay’ in the large box, closed everything and ‘presto.’ The first thing I cooked was chick peas–and it worked!  Since then, I’ve been experimenting.

Tweaking and improving the hot box/hay box:

Improvements in design: After a few rounds of cooking, I decided I didn’t really like sifting through ‘hay’ so much, so I decided to make ‘pillows’ out of my synthetic hay and some paper bags.  I stuffed them full, stapled them together and used them to line my box on the bottom, the sides and the top.  As the corners were kind of tricky to fit, I stuffed a few milk bottles (in France, they’re long and skinny 1 litter containers) into the corners because they fit better.  I also stuffed some hay into some old, cardboard egg crates.  My hay box looks like a box of recycling, and I don’t care.  It works and it was made entirely of stuff that was destined to be thrown out/recycled.  Why not?  I store the box under  the kitchen table whether or not it’s in use.

What to cook in a thermal cooker?

In short–anything you would normally boil and then simmer for an extended period of time.  I got my cooking times for basic ingredients in this thermal cooker blog (which has lots of other interesting and useful information).  I’ve made spicy Indian lentil stew, chicken soup, beef and buckwheat soup, rice, Indian lamb stew, black bean vegetarian chili, and morrocan inspired vegetable stew in the hay box.  I’ve also set dough in there to rise.

lentils and sausage prepping for the hot box.

Why I love cooking with the hay box:

It’s so simple–anyone can literally build it out of the materials they have on hand. It also makes the kind of cooking I do so simple and fuel-efficient.  You throw things into your pot, boil them all together and then let them slow cook all day.  You don’t have to add certain items at the last minute because everything cooks so slowly that you don’t overcook or destroy your food.  It’s easy.  It takes out the time and work of standing over a hot stove and stirring your food so that it doesn’t stick to the bottom.  And I can prepare a hot meal in advance if I have to be out right before dinner or even if I’m gone all day.  I can’t wait to take my hot box on a ski trip!

Three months without driving

My license doesn’t work in France.  I’ve been working towards getting one (slowly and laboriously as obtaining a driver’s license in France is somewhat of a feat).  Before arriving in France, I imagined that getting my license would be the number one priority at first.  I worried that I would feel dependent or closed in–that I wouldn’t be able to do very much without my car. After three months, I don’t actually miss driving at all. The only time I even ride in a car is when my husband and I drive somewhere to go for a hike or when we go to visit family.  Otherwise I walk, ride my bike or take public transportation.  Here are some of the ways life has changed for me since I’ve stopped driving.

I stay much closer to home. As we knew I wouldn’t be driving for a while, we chose an apartment that is downtown in a small village.  That means that the grocery stores, the butchers, bakers, veggie vendors, the cheese shops and the twice-weekly outdoor markets are all within a 15 minute walk from our home–some are less than five minutes.  I actually find that sometimes when I go out for groceries, I take the long way to the store, to vary my path and get a little extra exercise.

I have a different attitude towards shopping. Interestingly, our small town has more shops containing things we ‘need’ in a close proximity than in larger shopping districts in big cities where there tend to be more shops for clothes, shoes, fancy home and decoration items etc.  Because I tend to do my errands in a village with more utilitarian shops, I tend not to even think of buying things I don’t ‘need.’  And when I do think that I ‘need’ something that I don’t already have, going out to get it is just slightly more inconvenient, so I’m likely to put off purchases longer.  Often, in the meantime, I find a better solution to my problem or I decide that I don’t really ‘need’ the item in question after all.

My spending has become much more community based. I have a relationship with the local shop owners and cafe servers whose businesses I frequent.  I know them, I chat with them about things like the weather, family, the economy.  Sometimes I make a point of going out to buy vegetables or cheese or having a drink on the weekend in a cafe because I want to make sure the local shops stay open.  Perhaps this costs me more in the long run.  I’m not sure.  But I see it as an investment.

I don’t tend to go walking or running as often ‘just for exercise.’ Since walking is now a part of my daily routine, I no longer see additional walking or running as exercise.  Sometimes it’s fun to go out wandering around pine groves or vineyards, but I just go because I feel like it–not because I don’t get enough exercise during the day.

I tend to be involved in social activities that are closer to home. The pottery class I take and the biking group I ride with meet within five minutes of my home.   The acquaintances I’ve made (too early for friends) also live nearby, which is an interesting fringe benefit of living within a smaller area.  I remember the days in California where I’d drive all over just to see my friends.  I had friends all over the place because I drove all over the place for work and activities.

My future plans? I’ve decided I really like not driving and not having to worry about a second car, the insurance and the maintenance that goes with it.  What a hassle.  I’m going to get my license anyway–in case of emergencies it’s always a good idea.  But I’m perfectly happy not driving.  I’m not hell bent on finding a job for the time-being, but when I do start working again, I’m truly considering looking for something I can do in my community or from home and without a car.  I don’t have any specific ideas yet, but it’s amazing how things just pop into your head when you start mulling them over.

Work and ‘Leisure’ in African Villages

I spent a semester in Africa when I was in college, where I did research in some remote villages–and therefore lived in them for extended periods of time.  The experience challenged many of my assumptions about work, scheduling, leisure time,  and how people contribute to society.  Here are some things that I took away from my time in these villages.  It’s something I look back on when I’m feeling poor and when I’m wondering if not having a paid job makes me a loser.

1.  Work is not always paid:

The  people I lived with worked hard–they engaged in tangible, productive activities that allowed them to survive.   Most of these activities were not paid and families divided them amongst men, women and children.

Here are some examples of typical ‘work’ activities:

• farming
• gathering wood
• cooking
• raising cattle
• foraging wild fruit
• building shelter
• raising and caring for children
• providing basic first aid
• repairing homes
• fishing

2.  Work and productivity do not depend upon a certain schedule:

These activities were only done on a specific schedule if the weather conditions dictated it.  Wind and tide conditions for fishing and hot/cool times of the day for farming, for example, would dictate the time those activities were done.  Otherwise, people worked when they needed to.  Why would these folks ‘punch in’ at a given time?  Why would they commit to working on a given activity for X hours a day?  They didn’t even have watches.  They just did their work when it needed to be done and then . . . stopped.

3.  Work does not have to take all day or 40 hours a week:

Now, did these people do this all day?  Absolutely not.  Men typically spent the early morning hours fishing or farming and stopped at noon to eat with their families and then spent the afternoon visiting and chatting with other men.  Women and children typically spent the mornings getting firewood and any food needed to prepare the midday meal and doing any food preparation that was necessary (grinding corn and other grains by hand etc).  If you think about it, once your needs are met, why would you keep grinding more corn or catching more fish.  Why not relax and save your energy?

Once basic survival was accounted for, people spent a lot of time doing ‘nothing’ by Western standards.  They sat around talking to each other.  Kids roamed around playing.  Adults sat around telling jokes or stories or singing.  Women spent long periods of time creating intricate braids on each others heads in the afternoon. I once tried to explain to some people the notion of a ‘workaholic.’  They had another term for that: afa-afa (insane).

4.  ‘Leisure time’ is not necessarily ‘wasted time’ :

The leisure activities I mentioned above all served a purpose and contributed to society. Strengthening social bonds is important for survival in villages, and it keeps the morale high. It keeps people resilient and hardy, which is a good thing because life is hard.  People use physical labor to survive.  There is no health care, no electricity, no running water.  There is no transportation over land except foot or ox; there is no road.  Life expectancy at the time I was there was 47 years.  Yet people were not depressed; they were highly connected and cooperative.  They did not need to take antidepressants.  They were–dare I say–happy, full of joy, even. I think this is largely due to the way they spent their leisure time: creating complex interpersonal bonds with one another.  If you think about it, they never ‘wasted time.’ **

**don’t get me started about activities that ARE a waste of time like watching reality TV (or any TV) or playing video games . . .

A new view of work, productivity and contribution:

I no longer see paid activity as the only meaningful activity.  In fact, I can think of a lot of people who work very hard and earn a lot of money and who wreak horrific harm on our environment, our society and even our global economy.   I’ll let you fill in the blanks on that one.  In fact, how many people actually do make a positive contribution to society through paid work?   I no longer see striving for individual or family survival as the only way of contributing to society.  In fact, I would argue that working for individual or family survival does very little to contribute.  It’s the way we spend the time we have when we are NOT working that contributes the most (aside from a very few professions).  I’m not suggestion we all move to Africa–and you won’t see me resettling there any time soon.  But I do think that a lot can be learned from some of the perspectives that their version of village life provides.

“What do you do all day?–Life without work.

Reactions to the fact that I’m unemployed and not looking for work vary greatly: uncomfortable silence, strange looks, understanding smiles even encouragement.  “Don’t feel guilty for one minute, and don’t be afraid to take advantage of this time,” offer some.  Others purse their lips and quip, “Must be nice.” But the most common reaction is “What do you do all day?”

I admit that the moment we were finally finished setting up our apartment and recovering from our international move and my husband went back to work, I asked myself what I was going to do all day.  Time stretched out before me like a lounging cat, taunting me.  I actually sat on my couch with my empty cup of coffee in the morning of my husband’s first day of work and said, “Oh, crap.”

Initially, I felt obliged to fill my day with ‘useful’ activities.  Take the work away from a workaholic, and she will find other work, don’t you worry.  Our new apartment was still covered in a fine layer of dust from the renovations made just before we moved in.  I spent hours each day swiping away at that endless dust, until finally it was gone. I told myself I should get extremely involved in the community and ‘fill my day’ with activities like clubs, sports and cultural activities.  Somehow I believed that always doing ’something’ tangible was necessary if I wasn’t going to actually engage in a paid activity.

These frantic attempts to fill my time belie a fundamental assumption:  that human beings are meant to be busy and ‘productive’ all the time, that meaning, and maybe even worth, are defined by productivity.  Work had caused me to organize my entire life in a certain way.

Our time was a precious commodity.  We counted it out, we ‘filled’ it with the most meaningful activities.  I hated to have my time ‘wasted.’  Everything from where we lived, the size and shape of our home, the time we spent with friends and family, the food we ate–everything was shaped around work and the frantic scheduling involved in working 50-60 hours a week.  When you do that, you have exactly enough time to pay your bills, open your mail, do your shopping and cleaning and get a little exercise.  Every event is basically scheduled. If you ‘waste’ the time allotted for an activity, the opportunity is gone.

Start tugging away at the strings of the common work-week and the very fabric of your existence starts to unravel.

Sourdough Pizza

Well, of course this was coming right?  We love bread, we love pizza, the sourdough is working. . . we have liftoff!  You will note that this recipe is slightly pricey for the frugal lifestyle: 4.8 euros for 2 dinners for 2.  But if you take out the sausage and replace it with more veggies, you’ll bring the price right down. We add the meat because pizza night is kind of a special night and it allows DH to eat a little meat.

• 1 cup sourdough starter
• 1.5 cups flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 tsp oil
• 2 tomatoes
• a sprinkling cheese–grated or chopped.
• 1-2 green peppers
• one half piece of  sausage from our local butcher

This makes 2 small pizzas.  We eat one and save the other for later.

Directions:

1. Take the sourdough starter out of the fridge, ‘feed it’ one cup water and one cup flour and let it rise 6-8 hours.
2. When the starter is nice and bubbly, keep one cup of it for your recipe and put the rest back in the fridge.
3. In a bowl, add your cup of starter and 1.5 cups of flour.  Knead for 5-10 minutes (some people will say more, you can knead to your heart’s content)
4. Let your dough rise (I let it rise a little under an hour for pizza because I don’t like it to be too fluffy, but maybe you like a thicker crust.
5. Set your oven to 500 degrees (or as high as it will go)
6. Turn your dough out onto a floured surface and roll it into pizza sizes and shapes you like, put it in a baking dish (if you have a pizza stone, that’s good too.) Pop the dough in the oven for about 10 minutes so it can pre-cook.  Unless you like it when the tomato sauce sinks into the bread.
7. Take your 2 tomatoes, drop them in boiling water until they are easy to peel, then . . .peel.
8. Chop and squish the peeled tomatoes into a sauce pan and let them simmer until they’re a consistency you want for your pizza sauce.  Feel free to add any herbs, garlic etc.
9. Slather sauce onto pizza crusts once cooked, add chopped peppers (and any other veggies), then a layer of cheese, then the sausage.
10. Stick it back in the oven and cook until you like the way it looks.  I like my cheese a little bit browned and sizzling.

Serving Suggestions:

DH and I eat this with a serving of green salad.

The economics of unemployment

I’m not working because it’s not worth it right now.  That freaks people out.  It freaked me out at first, but I’ll post something on that another time.  For now, let me explain why I’m not working.

We are not in need. That’s because we have no debt, a modest savings for emergencies and pared-down expenses. We live easily and comfortably on my husband’s salary (he’s a teacher, so, yeah, we’re comfortable on maybe less than some people).  We’re completely secure and both of us enjoy the extra time. DH does no housework, cooking or shopping and he eats very well without ever having to ‘go out’ to a restaurant.  I do all the housework, but for now, don’t have to work on top of that.  Both of us are more relaxed.

The financial cost of  working is high. If I want to work in France, I have few possibilities I could pursue.   Most would involve working in a larger city and paying much higher rent or buying a second car and shelling out for the maintenance, insurance and gas (2-300 euros a month).  In addition, some of the money-saving techniques I employ are very labor intensive, and I wouldn’t have time for them if I worked full time (another 200 euros a month).  Let’s not forget the costs of ‘professional clothing,’ dry cleaning and the occasional splurge on a restaurant because we’re both too tired to cook after a full day’s work.  I’d say that 500 euros a month is a conservative estimate of what it would cost me to work.

My earning prospects are low. My salary would be an entry-level one as I’d be starting over in a new career (remember, my degrees don’t count here!).  After social security charges, I’d earn 1047 euros a month.  After taxes, I’d be making about 950.  So if I worked full time, I’d be pulling in about 450 euros a month after the added costs.

What is 450 euros a month worth to us?

Think about it.  If you could afford to pay 4-5oo euros a month NOT to work would you do it?  Or in my husband’s case, if you could afford to budget 4-500 euros a month never to do housework, laundry, grocery shopping, pay bills, cook or do dishes would you?

Conversely, would you be willing to put in an extra 35-40 hours a week to bring in 4-5oo euros a month more?

We’re waiting for a better option.

If we live here long enough, I might happen onto a job in our village or even create my own business.  If I can work part-time (therefore maintaining our cost-saving eating habits) and close to home (keeping housing/transportation costs down) and 550 euros before taxes each month, I can ‘bring home’ as much as I would working in the city.  That’s about 15 hours a week of work at 10 euros an hour, which is basically minimum wage.

My reactions?

Frankly, when I really crunched the numbers and realized what working would actually bring us, I started down a path of questioning that changed my world view fundamentally.

I’ve always worked.  I believed that good people work, and that they work hard.  But what is the value of work?  Is it the amount of money you earn, the time you spend, the ‘product’ you produce?  Would working full time for low pay be as valuable or more valuable as working part time for the same amount of money?  What is the purpose of working if you don’t ‘need’ the money?

I don’t know the answers yet, but I do know that while I’m not working, I’ll have time to think them over.