I sat down at the kitchen table this morning with the radio low and the window cracked just enough to smell cold air. That is usually how I know it is time to write. Not when something dramatic happens, but when life feels ordinary and a little inconvenient. Those are the moments preparedness is built for.

Most people think being prepared means bracing for some big disaster. Truth is, most of the stress we deal with comes from smaller things piling up. A weather delay, a missed paycheck, a car that decides to make a new noise. Those are the weeks that wear folks down. Those are also the weeks where quiet skills make all the difference.

The Power of Knowing How to Stretch What You Have

One of the most valuable things I ever learned was how to make a decent meal without a plan. Not a recipe, not a grocery list, just what is already in the house. This came from years of necessity, not ambition. Early on, money was tight and trips to town were fewer. You learned fast or you ate something sad.

I learned how to look at a shelf and see options instead of limitations. A can of beans is not just beans. It is protein, filler, and comfort if you treat it right. Rice is not boring if you know how to season it. Leftovers are not failures. They are tomorrow’s lunch handled early.

This matters for preparedness because food storage only works if you know how to use it. Anyone can buy supplies. Fewer people know how to turn them into meals people actually want to eat. When stress is high, morale matters. A hot bowl of something familiar does more than fill a stomach.

Fixing Small Problems Before They Grow Teeth

I am not a professional fixer, but I have learned to pay attention. Houses talk to you if you listen. A rattle here, a drip there, a door that suddenly sticks. Ignore those long enough and they invite bigger trouble.

Once a month, I take a slow walk through the house. I look, I listen, and I write things down. Some fixes are simple. Tighten a screw, replace a battery, clear a drain. Others need scheduling. The key is not letting them live in your head rent free.

Preparedness includes maintenance. A well kept home is easier to manage when something goes wrong. Confidence grows when you know your space and know what shape it is in.

Staying Calm Is Not a Personality Trait

I used to think calm people were just built that way. Turns out calm is a skill, same as anything else. It can be practiced. It can also be lost if you do not pay attention.

When something unexpected happens, I make myself slow down. I ask one simple question. What is the next useful thing to do. Not the whole plan. Just the first step. Panic feeds on speed. Calm lives in deliberate movement.

Darlene is better at this than I am. She grounds a moment by doing something ordinary. Making coffee, wiping the counter, feeding the dog. It reminds both of us that life has not stopped just because something went sideways.

Practicing Without Making Life Miserable

I do not believe in turning your home into a training camp. Preparedness should fit into real life. I practice by using what we store and storing what we use. Once a week, we eat from the pantry on purpose. A couple times a year, I shut off the power and see what still works. I take notes and adjust.

This kind of practice builds confidence without drama. You learn where the gaps are when the stakes are low. That is how preparedness becomes part of life instead of a constant source of anxiety.

Wendy’s Corner

Hi everyone, Wendy here. Out here east of the Cascades, we deal with long stretches of wind and weather that changes fast. With Luke and Charlotte, we focus on making skills feel normal. Cooking together, checking supplies together, talking through plans without making them scary.

When the power goes out, the kids already know the routine. Flashlights, layers, and a quick check on neighbors. Luke likes being in charge of the radio and Charlotte keeps track of water. Jasper mostly makes sure nobody forgets him.

Preparedness in our house is about helping the kids feel capable. When they know what to do, they feel steady. That steadiness carries into everything else.

I have made this meal more times than I can count, usually on a day when going to town felt like more trouble than it was worth. This is the kind of recipe that comes from standing in the kitchen, opening cabinets, and deciding you are going to make something decent with what you already have. No shortcuts from the store, no fancy ingredients, just plain sense cooking that fills bellies and settles nerves.

When things are uncertain, familiar food matters. A burger on a bun feels normal. It feels like things are going to be alright, even if the radio says otherwise. This one works whether you are dealing with a storm, a supply hiccup, or just trying to practice using what you store instead of staring at it.

Handmade buns directions

Chicken burger directions

Cooking directions

This is the kind of meal that reminds me why I bother with preparedness at all. You can take basic pantry food, a little time, and a calm approach, and turn it into something that feels steady and familiar. In a hard moment, that matters more than people realize.

I remember reading about the East Africa floods of 1997 and 1998 late at night with the radio on low and thinking how different real disasters look compared to the ones people imagine. This was not one bad storm. This was months of relentless rain tied to a strong El Niño that hit Kenya, Tanzania, and surrounding regions. Water kept falling, the ground gave up, and everyday systems quietly failed one by one.

Roads turned into rivers of mud and then disappeared altogether. Trucks could not move. Markets stopped functioning. Crops rotted before harvest and livestock drowned or starved. Wells were flooded and contaminated, which meant water was plentiful and unsafe at the same time. Aid existed, but reaching isolated communities took time and coordination. People were not panicking. They were stuck waiting while normal life slowly unraveled.

I look at disasters like this from my kitchen table in Missouri and ask myself what would translate to regular people here. Not in theory, but in real daily choices.

Advice One, Store Water for Safety Not Just Survival

One of the biggest killers during those floods was contaminated water. When wells flooded, clean drinking water vanished almost overnight. People drank what they could find because there were no alternatives, and disease spread fast.

My advice is specific and practical. Store water in sealed containers that do not get opened and dipped into repeatedly. Five gallon jugs with spigots beat open buckets every time. Rotate them on a schedule you actually follow, not one you wrote down and forgot.

Just as important, store a way to treat water that assumes things go wrong. Keep unscented bleach with clear instructions taped to the bottle. Keep a gravity filter you have already assembled and used. Do not rely on a single method. Practice once a year so you are not learning when you are already stressed.

Also plan for sanitation. Extra water for hand washing and basic cleaning prevents illness just as much as drinking water does.

Advice Two, Food Storage Must Work Without Systems

During the floods, food shortages were not always about total scarcity. They were about access. Roads failed, markets closed, and refrigeration was nonexistent. Families that relied on frequent buying had nothing to fall back on.

The lesson I take is to store food that fits how you actually live when systems are down. That means food you know how to cook without electricity, refrigeration, or specialty fuel. It also means practicing those meals when things are calm.

I keep foods that cook on a simple stove or fire and ingredients that stretch, like rice, beans, oats, canned meats, and shelf stable fats. I cook from those stores on purpose so I know how long fuel lasts and what actually tastes decent. Familiar food lowers stress and keeps people steady when everything else feels uncertain.

Advice Three, Assume Transportation Will Fail

One of the quiet realities of that disaster was isolation. Roads failed early, which meant no medical transport, no food delivery, and no quick help. Communities were not helpless. They were cut off.

My advice is to plan as if help will be delayed longer than you expect. Keep basic medical supplies and learn how to use them. Store extra fuel if you rely on vehicles. Be able to stay home safely for weeks, not days.

Equally important, know your neighbors. In East Africa, communities that shared information and resources did better than those waiting alone. Preparedness is not just what sits on your shelves. It is the human connections that still function when roads vanish and systems go quiet.

I learned how to do this years ago not because I planned on getting lost, but because I do not like being helpless when simple knowledge could get me home. A compass feels like a modern thing until you realize it is just magnetism and patience. This is one of those projects that costs almost nothing, teaches a useful principle, and sticks in your head because you made it yourself.

I am writing this the way I would explain it to someone standing at my workbench, coffee in hand, curious but skeptical.

Why Knowing This Still Matters

Batteries die. Phones break. GPS works right up until it does not. In a real disruption, especially after storms or floods, landmarks change and signage disappears. Knowing a basic sense of direction can keep a bad situation from getting worse.

This is not meant to replace a real compass. It is meant to give you orientation when you have nothing else. Direction reduces panic. Panic is what gets people hurt.

What You Need

You do not need anything fancy. Most of this can be found in a sewing kit, a junk drawer, or scavenged.

• A small steel needle or straight pin
• A magnet, optional but helpful
• A small piece of paper, leaf, or thin plastic
• A shallow bowl, cup, or lid
• Clean water
• A steady surface

If you do not have a magnet, I will cover that too.

How to Magnetize the Needle

Assembling the Compass

After a short pause, the needle should rotate and then stop. One end will point north. It will not be perfect, but it will be consistent.

How to Tell Which End Is North

If you are in Missouri like me, the end that points generally toward where the sun rises and sets differently through the day will be north. More practically, compare it to the sun at midday. In the Northern Hemisphere, the sun sits more to the south. The needle end pointing away from the sun is north.

If you already know which direction north roughly is from landmarks or time of day, use that to confirm which end of the needle is pointing where.

Common Mistakes People Make

People rush this. They bump the bowl. They use thick paper that sinks. They magnetize the needle back and forth and cancel out their own work.

Take your time. This is quiet work. Calm hands give better results.

Also keep metal objects away. Knives, tools, or even a belt buckle too close can pull the needle off true.

How I Practice This

I do this once in a while just to keep it fresh. I also make my grandkids do it when they visit, Luke complains and Charlotte loves it. Teaching someone else is the best way to remember.

I keep a needle and a small magnet in my kit because they weigh nothing and give options. Options are the whole point of preparedness.

This project is not about perfection. It is about orientation. When you know which way is north, every other decision gets easier.

Hi everyone, Wendy here. When Dad asked me to write this week, I laughed because we had just finished a backyard lesson with Luke and Charlotte that fits perfectly. It started with a question Luke asked while Jasper was trying to steal a sandwich. How would you know which way to go if your phone died.

Out here east of the Cascades, losing signal is not hypothetical. It happens on regular drives, let alone during storms. I want the kids to grow up calm about that, not afraid of it. So we practice direction the same way we practice cooking or chores, low pressure and a little playful.

We started by talking about the sun. Morning light, afternoon shadows, how the sun never quite behaves the same way twice. Then we made a simple compass using a sewing needle, a fridge magnet, a scrap of paper, and a bowl of water. Luke wanted it to work instantly. Charlotte wanted to know why it worked at all. Both got what they needed.

What mattered most was not the compass itself. It was watching their confidence grow when it actually worked. They were not lost kids waiting for help. They were capable kids learning how the world fits together.

Steve and I try to frame preparedness as curiosity instead of fear. Knowing direction is not about getting ready for something bad. It is about understanding where you are. That feeling carries over into everything else, weather, travel, even emotions when plans change.

Jasper, for the record, decided north was wherever the snacks were. Some instincts never change.

This week’s challenge is one I think every household ought to try at least once, because it costs nothing, teaches a real skill, and exposes gaps you would never notice otherwise. The goal is simple. Figure out north without using your phone, your car, or anything that runs on batteries.

I do this challenge myself every year, usually when the weather is decent and I am not rushed. It is amazing how quickly modern convenience dulls instincts you did not even realize you were leaning on.

Here is how I want you to approach it.

First, pick a time during daylight hours and step outside your house or apartment. Leave your phone inside. Not in your pocket, not face down on the table, inside.

Second, stand still and look around. Use the sun, shadows, wind patterns, tree growth, rooftops, antennas, anything you can observe. Take a guess which direction you think north is and commit to it. Say it out loud or write it down.

Third, use a non electronic method to check yourself. That can be a DIY compass like the one we talked about this week, a mechanical compass if you own one, or even checking the sun’s position based on time of day. The key is that it cannot involve a screen.

Fourth, note how far off you were and why. Were you close but unsure. Completely wrong. Confident but mistaken. The lesson lives in that gap.

Fifth, repeat this in a different location later in the week. A parking lot, a park, a friend’s house, somewhere unfamiliar. Notice how much harder it is without landmarks you recognize.

If you have kids, do this with them. Turn it into a game. If you live with someone who rolls their eyes at preparedness, this is a gentle way to show that skills can be interesting instead of scary.

What you are really practicing here is orientation under mild pressure. Direction finding is not about wilderness survival fantasies. It is about staying calm when systems fail and knowing where you are in relation to where you need to go.

By the end of the week, you should feel less dependent on electronics for something as basic as direction. That confidence is the real win.