I was sitting at the kitchen table early Tuesday morning while Darlene fussed with the percolator that has been making our coffee since Clinton was in office. The lights in the house flickered the way they do when the wind whips across the soybean fields to the north. That old familiar hum in the walls made me look up from my notebook because whenever the power hiccups in November, I start taking stock in my head. It is second nature now. I listened close to see if the furnace kicked off. It stayed on, thank the Lord, but the whole thing reminded me how many folks only ever think about preparedness after the fridge shuts off.

I keep a small spiral pad next to the table for moments like that. I wrote down a few reminders while Darlene teased me that I treat every wobble in the power line as if it is the opening scene of some disaster movie. She is not wrong. But as I told her while I poured the first cup, it is easier to top off supplies when there is no crisis breathing down your neck.

The Week I Finally Admitted My Generator Has A Personality

My generator has become something of a stubborn old uncle to me. It works fine most of the time, yet it refuses to start unless I talk to it a little. I told Wendy about this on the phone the other afternoon and she laughed so hard that Jasper the lab started barking along like he sensed the joke through the line. Anyway, that generator is a reminder that your gear will outsmart you if you let it sit too long.

I try to run ours for fifteen or twenty minutes every two weeks once the temperatures drop. It keeps the carburetor from sulking and lets me know whether I need to pick up extra fuel on my next run into town. Folks ask me all the time how to choose the right generator. I always say choose the one you are actually going to maintain. You can buy the biggest unit on the shelf, but if it sits untouched in the shed for two years, you are just storing frustration.

I also keep a laminated card right next to the generator with the startup sequence written in fat marker. It keeps me honest on cold mornings when I forget which choke position it likes best. Consider writing your own instructions in plain language so even a neighbor helping you in an emergency can get it purring.

A Missouri Pantry Has To Be More Than Canned Corn

When you live in a state where an ice storm can shut you in for three days, the pantry becomes a living thing. I did a full inventory on Sunday afternoon because the wind kept blowing leaves against the window and the sound reminded me of the big storm in 2006. Darlene came in while I was on the floor counting cans of tomatoes and she stepped right over me to grab a jar of pickles for supper. She did not even comment, which tells you how normal this is in our house.

I keep three categories in mind when I stock up. First is what I call comfort fuel. That is your soups, stews, and beans. Stuff you can heat on a camp stove if the power gives up. Second is what I call long haul basics. Rice, pasta, oats, powdered milk, things that quietly sit for months without complaint. Last is morale boosters. This week I added instant cocoa mix because when the grandkids visit in December, nothing settles them after sledding like a warm cup with too many marshmallows.

One specific thing I do that folks find helpful is labeling each shelf with the month and year of my next planned rotation. It keeps me from missing those cans that slide to the back like teenagers hiding in the bleachers.

Why I Keep A Small Tote Packed For Quick Runs Outside

Most evenings I take a short walk around the property. It is partly to check on everything and partly because the doctor keeps reminding me that walking is not optional anymore in your sixties. During last year’s power outage I realized I kept running in and out of the house to grab small items like gloves or a flashlight. Now I keep a tote right by the mudroom door.

Inside the tote I have two pairs of work gloves, a knit hat, a tiny first aid pouch, a small headlamp, a box of strike anywhere matches, and a couple protein bars. Nothing fancy. But when the snow drifts build and I need to shovel a path to the shed, I grab that tote and I am ready without rummaging through drawers like a raccoon.

You might consider building your own tote based on your routines. If you have dogs, include extra bags and a spare leash. If you have a wood stove, tuck in a few fire starters. It should be seasonal and practical, not cinematic.

A Call From Oregon And A Reminder About Water Storage

Wendy rang on Thursday while waiting for the kids to come out of school. She mentioned that their well pump had hiccuped that morning and Steve had to prime it again. She asked me how much water storage I keep on hand because she wanted to build a better system at their place. I could hear Charlotte chattering in the background about the frost on the slide while Jasper huffed like he was bored with the whole conversation.

I told her that here in Missouri I keep twelve gallons of drinking water stored in six two gallon jugs. I rotate them every six months. For non drinking purposes, I keep a fifty five gallon barrel in the barn with a simple siphon pump. It helps for toilet flushing and washing hands when the power is down for more than a few hours.

One thing I reminded her is that water is heavier than you think. Folks get ambitious and buy containers so large they can barely move them once filled. It is better to have more smaller containers that you can lift safely. She agreed and said she would pick up some mid sized jugs on her next grocery run in Bend.

The Simple Check I Do Every Sunday Night

Right before bed on Sundays, after Darlene finishes her crossword and I make sure the dog food bin is sealed, I take five minutes to walk through the house with a small notepad. I check flashlight batteries, the smoke alarm, the carbon monoxide detector, and the drawer where I keep my pocket knives and multitool. It is a tiny ritual, barely longer than brushing my teeth, yet it trims down surprises during the week.

I started doing this years ago after a late night scramble when the power went out and I discovered every single flashlight had been raided for school projects or misplaced during yard work. That feeling of patting each drawer in frustration taught me the value of this small weekly walk. It ties into the whole idea behind preparedness. Small routines help you ride out big inconveniences.

If you pick one small habit like this and weave it into your week, the payoff sneaks up on you in a good way. I never try to fix everything at once. I just pick a few things that make future me say thank you.

I did not plan on making this recipe the first time it happened. The roads were slick, the wind had that icy whistle it only gets in November, and Darlene announced she was hungry for something comforting. My pantry came to the rescue. This is the kind of pizza you make when the weather decides your plans for you.

Ingredients you can pull straight from the pantry

• One cup all purpose flour
• One teaspoon baking powder
• One pinch of salt
• One tablespoon powdered milk
• Two tablespoons oil
• Warm water as needed
• Two tablespoons tomato paste
• Two tablespoons water
• One pinch of sugar
• One shake dried oregano
• One shake garlic powder if you feel fancy
• Any shelf stable toppings you keep around like canned mushrooms, canned chicken, summer sausage, pickled peppers, or freeze dried mozzarella

How I do the crust

• Mix flour, baking powder, salt, powdered milk, and oil in a bowl
• Add small splashes of warm water until it turns into a soft workable dough
• Knead it for two or three minutes until smooth
• Let it rest while you prep everything else
• Roll it out into a circle and fit it into a cast iron skillet

How I throw together the sauce

• Stir tomato paste with water in a small bowl
• Add oregano, salt, and that tiny pinch of sugar
• Mix until glossy and smooth
• Spread it over the dough with the back of a spoon

Toppings that always work

• Drain canned mushrooms so they do not sog up your crust
• Pat canned chicken dry so it crisps at the edges
• Slice summer sausage thin
• Use any peppers or pickled vegetables hiding in your pantry
• Sprinkle on freeze dried mozzarella or regular shredded cheese

Cooking it the way I like

• Heat oven to four hundred twenty five degrees
• Top the pizza in the skillet and place it on the middle rack
• Bake about fourteen minutes until edges puff and cheese bubbles
• Keep an eye on it because it goes from golden to too done quicker than you might think
• Let it cool a few minutes so the crust crisps up nicely

Serving tip from my Missouri kitchen

• Slice into squares
• Eat it while the wind rattles the windows and feel smug about that well stocked pantry

I was a young man in my twenties when the 1986 floods carved their way through the Midwest. Folks usually remember the big Mississippi flood of 1993, but the one in 1986 set the stage for how I think about readiness. I was living closer to the Illinois line then, working long hours and not giving much thought to anything beyond my next paycheck. When the skies opened that fall and kept right on pouring, it changed my view of what it means to be prepared.

I remember driving my old pickup down a rural stretch outside of Alton and watching water inch closer to the road every mile. It was the kind of rain that came down in sheets and made every sound feel muffled. Farm fields turned into lakes, basements filled before folks even had time to pull on their boots, and neighborhoods that had never seen real flooding suddenly had rowboats tied to street signs. A coworker of mine named Ron had to stack sandbags around his parents place with his brothers well into the night. I helped for a few hours and I still remember how cold and gritty those bags felt. It drove home how quickly a quiet season can turn mean.

Why That Flood Stuck With Me

When you are young you assume you can muscle your way through most problems. That flood taught me water does not negotiate. It finds every crack and shortcut and it gains ground while you sleep. Watching people scramble for sump pumps, extension cords, and dry storage left a mark. Many folks did not have anything on hand because they thought floods only happened to other counties or other states.

That experience is one reason I started keeping a small stash of plastic sheeting, duct tape, and sandbags long before I ever called myself a prepper. I learned that if you are hunting for supplies at the same time as everyone else, you are already behind the curve.

The Small Details That Make A Big Difference

One thing I remember vividly is how many people lost important papers to water damage. Titles, insurance documents, birth certificates, all soaked into mushy clumps. After helping Ron’s mom try to dry out her file box on the dining table, I promised myself I would always keep essentials in waterproof containers. These days I use a latching tote with a rubber seal, and inside that I keep smaller zip bags. It is not elegant, but it works.

Another lesson was how easily floodwater contaminates everything. A lot of us did not realize that once water rolls through barns, garages, and yards, it brings along chemicals, fuel, and waste you cannot see. I remember a neighbor insisting he could drink from his well after the flood receded. He ended up sick for a week. That memory is why I store water and have simple purification options tucked around the house. It only takes one contaminated tap to derail a week.

Why Community Matters More Than Gadgets

Back in 1986 most of us did not have fancy gear. No smartphone alerts. No solar chargers. What we had was neighbors. People checking on each other. Folks with tractors or four wheel drive trucks hauling others out of trouble. I watched an older couple get rescued not by an official crew, but by two teenage boys in a jon boat who were just doing what needed doing.

That made me realize preparedness is not only about stocking your shelves. It is about knowing who around you might need a hand and who can lend one. These days when the weather looks rough I always check in on two older couples up the road. It costs me nothing and it keeps the community fabric strong.

How It Changed The Way I Prepare Today

Every time I see heavy rain or a swollen creek here in Missouri, part of my brain goes right back to that flood. It is why I keep my gear in places I can reach quickly. It is why I never let the sump pump go unchecked. It is why I practice the small habits that seem boring until the day they are not.

That flood may feel like ancient history to some folks, but it shaped the way I look at risk. Big disasters are not always thunderous events. Sometimes they are slow, steady rises that creep into your life inch by inch. And once you have lived through one, you do not forget how it felt to be caught off guard.

I put this project together after our well pump hiccuped one hot July weekend and Darlene reminded me that grease from an engine rebuild has no business showing up on her kitchen towels. This setup is simple, sturdy, and downright handy during outages or messy work days. It lives in my garage most of the year and quietly earns its keep.

What you need

• One clean five gallon bucket with a lid
• One food grade spigot
• One small roll of plumber tape
• One scrap of two by four
• One small bottle of biodegradable soap
• One permanent marker
• A couple stainless screws
• One spare bucket for catching graywater

Putting the spigot in the right place

• Drill a hole two inches above the bottom so grit stays put
• Wrap the spigot threads with plumber tape
• Tighten gently until it sits snug
• Test with a half filled bucket so you catch leaks early

I learned the hard way that drilling too low turns the bottom into a swamp of sediment. Two inches gives you enough clearance without sacrificing flow.

Building a workable top

• Cut a small notch in the lid so the soap bottle has a home
• Screw the two by four piece onto the top to make a little shelf
• Add a hook or eye screw for a towel
• Mark the refill date right on the lid

The shelf may look homely, but it keeps things from sliding off when kids or neighbors smack the bucket harder than they mean to.

Setting it up for regular use

• Fill with clean water and a small splash of unscented bleach when storing long term
• Place a spare bucket under the spigot to catch graywater
• Keep a small rag nearby for wiping off mud
• Hang a lantern above it if you plan to use it at night

When the grandkids visit, they treat this thing like a campsite sink and somehow wash their hands more often than they ever do indoors.

Where a setup like this shines

• Power outages that slow down your well pump
• Barn work that leaves your hands coated in who knows what
• Fish cleaning sessions that require quick rinsing
• Big family gatherings where everyone cycles in and out of the yard

It is a tiny project with an outsized payoff and it takes less than an hour to put together. I keep mine ready year round because the moment I do not, something always seems to go sideways.

I am writing this from our kitchen table while Charlotte is cutting construction paper into shapes she swears are snowflakes and Luke is trying to teach Jasper how to shake with both paws at once. The wind outside has that sharp winter bite that tells me our little patch east of the Cascades is in for one of those weeks where you plan your errands around whether the roads feel polite or daring.

I grew up watching Dad fuss with generators and pantry shelves, and I used to think he was overdoing it. Now that I have kids of my own, I understand the appeal of being ready before the world gets cranky. This week I finally admitted that our house needed a more organized backup routine, so I made myself a short list.

My small wins from this week

• I built a tiny tote for quick grabs near the mudroom
• I made the kids practice simple tasks like turning off the water valve
• I reorganized our pantry shelf that always turns into a domino trap

The tote is nothing fancy. Two headlamps, a small towel, a roll of dog bags, a packet of wipes, and a tiny pink battery fan because Charlotte cannot fall asleep without a breeze. Steve laughed when he saw the fan, but if it keeps the bedtime routine smooth during an outage, I will carry that thing around like a trophy.

The water valve practice came from something Dad once said about chores feeling like missions when you are little. Luke took to it like a superhero in training. Charlotte preferred scooping chicken feed, which she claimed makes her feel like a farm queen. Jasper supervised and tried to steal the scoop twice. I wanted them to see that preparedness is not scary. It is just learning how the house works.

For the pantry, I made a small box I call the quiet moments kit. Nothing dramatic. Just a deck of cards, two pencils, sticker sheets, a small bag of dried apple rings, and the kids favorite bug themed coloring book. During our last power outage I saw how quickly boredom turns into bickering, so now we have a box that buys us peace while the house sorts itself out. The kids settle in, Steve relaxes, and Jasper eats half the apple rings when no one is looking.

Something I learned this month

• Preparedness feels less like prepping and more like parenting when you focus on comfort instead of fear

I finally understood that getting ready is not only about stocking supplies. It is about noticing what makes your family calm, rested, and steady. That is the part Dad always understood. I think I just needed a few windstorms, two kids, and one extremely dramatic black lab to see it for myself.

Next week I am planning to show the kids how to use a fire extinguisher. If all goes well, they will treat it like a magic trick instead of a chore. I will let you know how many excited footprints end up on the porch.

This week I want you to tackle something small that pays off big, the sort of job you keep meaning to do but somehow never gets its turn at the top of the list. I picked this challenge because I caught myself doing the exact same thing on Tuesday. I bent down to pull a flashlight from the junk drawer and it let out this little squeak of a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone passing gas in church. Darlene poked her head around the corner and said, very politely, that I might want to check those batteries before I blame the furniture. Nothing humbles a man like a flashlight that wheezes at him.

Your challenge this week

• Gather every flashlight in your home and check the batteries
• Test each one for brightness and replace anything weak
• Wipe down the lenses because dust steals more light than you realize
• Put one flashlight in a place you can reach in under ten seconds

I swear this whole flashlight audit took me less than fifteen minutes, even though I found one hiding behind the dog food bin like it was ashamed of itself. I also discovered that one of my headlamps must have gotten bumped on sometime last month, because the batteries were deader than my Uncle Ray’s sense of humor.

While you are at it, label each light with a small piece of tape and the date you last replaced the batteries. It keeps future you from wondering whether you were responsible or just optimistic.

Optional bonus challenge

• Keep one small emergency light on your nightstand
• Practice finding it in the dark
• Notice whether you can get from bed to hallway without stumbling into something that makes a noise you pretend is the floor squeaking instead of something else

Preparedness does not always require big projects. Sometimes it is just making sure the tools you depend on are awake when you need them. And if one of them makes a sound suspiciously similar to a fart when you shake it, take that as a sign from the universe that this challenge arrived right on time.