Humble Ambitions

The State of the Farm Blog Address

2012-01-24T21:02:00.000-06:00

The other day, i was sitting on a bench, as i often do, during one of my breaks during the day at work, and something i read reminded me of my long unrequited desire to raise Muscovy Ducks.

A quick search on craigslist located a nearby raiser of these treasures, and this weekend, i plan to go and pick up a small flock of hatchling Muscovy Ducks and bring them home to my tiny farm. And i am SO excited! I just can't wait to show you pictures. I've never had ducks before, and i'm just giddy.

And not just because ducks have bills and look cute either.

Muscovy Ducks are different from any of the quacking varieties of ducks that most of us have some familiarity with. First of all, they don't quack. Muscovies originate in central America, unlike pretty much all other ducks, and they fly, roost, have claws, are wonderful mothers, provide virtually all of their own food, and according to rumor, are some of the best meat you will ever eat. And that's just a partial list. I'm so jazzed! Yes, jazzed.

Here is a picture of two full grown Muscovy drakes. These big boys weigh in at about 15 pounds each.

Those crazy red things on their faces are called carunkles. Isn't that a funny word? Say it again. Carunkles.

Oh yeah and also, my number crunching super hero......oh look, here's a new picture......

Isn't he cute? I love his new beard.

Anyway, i digress. He did some number crunching, and it appears that this year, we really are (Lord willing and the creek don't rise and something else strange and unforeseen doesn't happen) going to get bees this year!!!!! As in this weekend!!!!! O.k. we're going to give someone money in order to reserve our bees this weekend. We won't actually get them for a couple of months. It's a process.

Chickens and Ducks and Bees. These are microfarm occupants i think i can manage to keep up with while working a full time non-farming job. I think.

I'm certainly very excited to try!

The Beauty of Capitalism

2012-01-21T08:05:00.000-06:00

The other day, i shared with y'all, a few of my thoughts and ambitions concerning where the products that i buy are produced. If you missed it, you can read it here. In response to that post, a reader, named Tracee, posted this:

"I really don't want to offend you here, but do you realize that it is American corporations that are sending those items to China to have them manufactured? The Chinese aren't dreaming this stuff up on their own! American Corporations can no longer afford to manufacture here because the labor and benefits cost do not make it cost effective for them to make any money...and that's all they care about. Money. It all comes down to money, money, money.

China gets a bad rap. Yes, there are sweat shops, child laborers, long hours and poor wages. If we want to protest that? I'm right there with you. I'm all for buying U.S. made. Just follow the chain on the products that come out of China and they will lead you right back to the good old US of A."

I appreciate Tracee's comment, and i'm certainly not offended by discussion. :) Here's my response:

This is the beauty of capitalism.

Capitalism is the democratic system of economics.

What i mean, is that every time any consumer (person who buys things) makes a purchase, she also places her vote. She places her stamp of approval on that product and the way in which the corporation who supplied that product chose to produce it, whether she knows it or not.

Now, if i, the consumer, make my choices on what to buy, only by what i think is pretty and who has the best price, then i send a message: "I don't care how you do this. I'm just happy i don't have to pay much for it."

If i, the consumer, decide that my vote counts (and it does), and i decide that i want my vote to benefit my country, my fellow Americans, me, then i can send a message that i am willing to search out and pay more for products made by my countrymen, because it matters to me that my dollars, however few, eventually support business practices that cause Americans to be employed, money to be spent in America, and perhaps, more businesses to be founded in America.

And that is what i want to do. That is what i want to influence others to do.

Because no matter what a company does to make so they can "afford" to manufacture their products, i.e., contract Chinese sweat shops to produce their products, instead of hiring free Americans at an honest wage, they can't afford anyone to make their products, if we, the consumers, don't BUY their products.

What i mean is, if Americans won't buy Chinese-made products, then no one can make money in America, by contracting their work to China.

In a more direct response to you, Tracee, i think that maybe in my original post, i wasn't clear about part of my heart on this subject. I want Americans to flourish. I know that policies in the States, specifically particular areas of the States, make it extremely difficult for corporations to make money. There are completely unreasonable rules in place. But if going to China were not an option, then perhaps these corporations, and our politicians, would put more effort into making things work right, here, in our country. Americans need work. Especially now. And the situation is endlessly complicated. This is just the part i think that every American can take to change the tide. I just want to send a message. And hope it catches on. For corporations, it's all about the money; that's why for consumers, it has to be about something else. Let's use OUR money, to influence THEIR money, so that something besides the money, matters to them too.

And thank you so much for your comment. I really do appreciate it.

True Story

2012-01-19T20:29:00.000-06:00

Sunday night, i pulled out of the drive to go buy gas and noticed that something was different. When i got to the gas station, there was a Sheriff's Deputy gassing up, who confirmed my concern.

"You've got a problem with your car there, don't you?," he accused, like an awkward rookie cop. I much prefer the older guys who don't look at you like you're the devil if you have an expired sticker or something. From the tone of his voice, i thought the trunk was on fire or something, but he was just pointing out that my driver's side head light had gone out.

"I thought it looked dim. I think it just went out. It hasn't been like that," i defended.

The deputy gave me a we'll see sort of look and left me alone while i pumped my gas.

Monday was going to be a long day. I already had plans to go to Wal-mart and the AT&T store after work, and now i needed to add replacing a headlamp.

I left out early Monday morning, and it was a good thing because, appropriate for a day when you're driving with inadequate lighting, it was pitch black and storming -- raining cats and dogs all the way. There's a long stretch of narrow shoulder-less, hilly, curvy country highway, followed by another stretch of more of the same but with shoulders, between my house and signs of civilization, and by the time my eyes sought out the lights indicating that first sign of civilization, they were watering from the strain of trying to see as far as the tail lights of the car in front of me, and i decided to stop for a break.

I got drenched in the 15 seconds it took me to get from my car to the store, where i bought a little snack and a drink. I went back to the car, looked up what time i should expect the sun to attempt to rise on this stormy morning, and checked on the status of the most recent tornado warning. After 20 minutes or so, the barely noticeable sun lit the sky enough to make traveling seem less dangerous, and i set out again.

This is the longest commute ever.

I made it to town in time to greet the opening manager at Auto Zone before he opened up a few minutes late, bought my light bulb and made it to work on time. Wet and tired, but on time.

At break, i checked out the owner's manual on my car and realized i didn't have the tools to change the bulb. I was hoping to get this done at lunch time, in light of my other errands. I immediately started asking around the very small male population in my office for a ratchet set and happily received the keys to a friend's car, with permission to raid his tool box for what i needed. Thank God.

Lunch time arrived, i got the tools, started to change the bulb, and found that the bulb i had didn't fit. ARgh! Back to Auto Zone. Trade it out. Change the bulb.

No light. Are you kidding?

This isn't what i was hoping for.

Must be the fuse, i think. After work, i buy fuses, change out fuses. Still nothing. My day is finally getting frustrating. O.k., i'm crying. I'm feeling helpless and irrationally stressed out . I'm praying. "Lord, please show me the answer."

Back to Auto Zone, i find a very helpful clerk who shows me, very kindly and without talking to me like i'm a stupid girl, that i changed the wrong bulb.

Silly, silly, silly, girl. I feel like an idiot. A very grateful idiot. I consider sending my kind Auto Zone friend flowers but think he might get the wrong impression. Cookies? No, still wrong impression. I guess my profuse thank-you's will have to do. Let God bless him.

My lights work, it's dark outside now; it's 6 o'clock, and all i have to do is go grocery shopping, pay the cell phone bill and drive home so that i can sleep and go back to work.

Back to Wal-mart. Cart full of food. Hurry up. AT&T closes at 8:00. I'm the last customer at AT&T. Because of my light bulb mix-up, i don't have as much money as i planned.
"O.k., put this much on this card. What's my balance now?"
"Really?"
Well, that's exactly how much cash i have. To the dollar. How convenient.

This is the longest day in memory. With a bonus.

For all the stress and worry and complication of this day, i finish it, feeling completely provided for. A full tank of gas, a back seat full of groceries, and not a dollar to my name. Completely taken care of.

If you were nearby my car on my way out of the shopping center, you heard a small war hoop escape through the open window.

I won. This day wanted to beat me, but i won. Not on my own. That's the best part. He won for me. And i won.

Follow-up on NOT MIC

2012-01-16T20:16:00.001-06:00

For those of you who are interested, i have created a tab on this blog, up there at the top, labeled, "not made in China." I have listed those resources that i am presently aware of for finding businesses creating products here in the USA.

I hope that this page will grow as i learn of more and more businesses and products that we can all be proud to support, as Americans.

Please check it out and let me know what i can add.

Domesticity becomes me

2012-01-16T18:55:00.000-06:00

Domesticity, i love you

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day. And i'm very thankful for Dr. King's contribution to our nation, but at this very moment, i am way more thankful to have had the day off. No offense to Dr. King, of course.

Even though the holiday season is riddled with days off from work, all of those days are usually filled with festive activity, and so today, my being home while my super hero was working, is the first real day off i've had in quite a long time.

So i pretended it was the old days. I swept the floor, and i cleaned the house, and washed dishes and made tea, and i made lunch for my darling, and i fixed dinner and baked a cake. And i truly enjoyed myself.

Sometimes i feel very angry toward the women who started the "women's lib" movement back in the day. I blame them for turning the social tide from the days when it was normal to be domestic, toward the present days when it's abnormal to not have a "paying job" or a career. This movement actually changed the economic norm of Americans to a time when most "normal" households actually require two incomes to continue in their normalcy.

I'm not really angry at those women who thought they were doing all the good, but i am a rebel to their cause. I feel the most valuable and the most meaningful and the most successful when i'm home. My dream career is domestic. I don't want a career. I want to raise chickens.

And today was a wonderful day of being domestic and raising chickens. And one day not too too too far away, it will come back. I'm sure of it.

Not MIC

2012-01-15T20:20:00.000-06:00

I think i'm probably a little behind the ball on this one, but it's finally very important to me, so i want to share.

A few weeks before Christmas, i had a few minutes to wander through one of my very favorite stores in the world, Hobby Lobby. I love Hobby Lobby because it is kind of a fantasy wonderland of craft supplies and craft ideas, and if you're not feeling all that industrious, you can buy all sorts of crafty looking items that someone else made.

And something in Hobby Lobby is ALWAYS on sale. Always.

On top of all that, the music playing in the store is instrumentals of Christian worship songs, and the store is closed on Sundays, allowing all of their employees the opportunity to go to a traditional Sunday worship service of their choosing.

These are all reasons that i have always loved Hobby Lobby.

-------------------

Now, in recent months, i have been paying more attention, partially due to our present national economic condition, to where the items i buy have been made...hoping to find items that were made in the U.S.A., by my fellow-Americans.

------------------

So, while i was in Hobby Lobby on this particular evening, i was automatically flipping over every item to see where it was made. And every single item (i was in the expansive somebody-else-made-this section of the store, which was, of course, on sale) i picked up was made in China. Every. Single. Item.

I became a little frantic, walking around, flipping over items, hoping to find something from this Oklahoma-based company, that was at least made in India or Mexico. Something.

No. Nothing. Not one item.

Now i didn't search the whole store or anything, but...you get my point.

And soon, i was just about nauseous. I had visions in my heads of fleets of ships carrying adorable decorative items, all coming from china, racing to America, while trillions of American dollars traveled through the sky ( yes i need a good cartoonist on staff here at humble ambitions, inc. ) to China. And it suddenly became annoyingly clear that if we keep sending all our money to China, in exchange for all these questionnably-made products, eventually, China will have all our money, and all we'll have is all this pretty junk in our houses. The result of an appearances-based society. Thinking about it makes me a little ill, even now.

Almost the same thing goes for the great Wal-mart, which is truly funnelling an awfully large percentage of the funds of middle-America straight to the big C in Asia.

And after all these sickening cartoons in my head, i had to do a heart check and decide to make some different choices. I'm a realistic person, and i'm not against foreign trade. And i do think that i would like my money to go to American made products as much as possible. But as a compromise maybe. Until we as Americans get our corporate head on a little straighter, couldn't we just try really hard to stop sending all of our cash straight to China? Couldn't we?

Which brings me, (i'm not exactly sure how, to be honest), to a request. O.k., a request with an explanation. When i mentioned buying items not made in China to some of my co-workers, i got the annoying repetitive response, "you can't get anything not made in China." or "Where can you buy things made in America?"

Now, i did some internet searches and found some great resources for items made in America. And i plan to make a section on this page that will showcase those.

But.....and now i'm finally getting to the request......if you know of someone or some company, making and selling great products here in the U.S.A., would you help me spread the word? I would like to promote, on my small level, any company or item made in America, and let people know what really is available.

Even companies that sell stuff not made in China.

There really are quality items, for sale here, in the U.S.A., that we can buy and not be supporting the largest communist force on our planet.

Just sayin'.

Old School

2012-01-15T19:40:00.000-06:00

Tonight, i am embarking on a new old way ... or an old new way ... of doing things.

As you know, i guess, a few months ago, my husband and i decided to enter the expansive and mobile world of smart phones. Since both of us are away from home more than we are at home (these days), we decided to spend our budgeted internet money on internet accessibility in our pockets, which meant forfeiting internet accessibility from our massive and out-dated personal desktop computers.

It didn't take long before i figured out how to blog from my phone/tiny computer in my pocket (there's an app for that), but no matter how much i try, i just can't begin to get my thoughts down in blog format as easily by tapping it out on a touch phone keyboard, as i can on an old fashioned, tappity-tap-tap, full-sized, computer keyboard.

And thus, besides all the other reasons that i've been too busy to do some of the things i love the most, my smart phone was impeding my blogging.

Boo.

So, this evening, i've gone truly old school. I mean way, way back. I've signed up for free dial-up from my equally old-school desk top computer.

It took me a few minutes to find the fully dusted over plug-in for the phone line on the back of my p.c., and even longer to connect and load this page, but i think this might work. We'll have to see how long it takes to actually upload this blog to the interwebs once i type it.

So there you go.

Here i am blogging.

About blogging.

Whatever.

Catch you on the flip side.

Yo.

January

2012-01-08T19:38:00.001-06:00

January.

Already?

Are you sure?

Because i'm sure i haven't gotten to do everything i planned for the year yet. I mean. There has to be more. I have a TON of stuff to do!

But that's how i feel on many New Years Days. I think, "Where did the year go?" At the beginning of the year, when all things are new, and you've survived the Christmas season, and you're looking at the beginning of a brand new-born year, a year, kind of like a life, seems like a really. long. time.

I should be able to accomplish anything in a year. A year is forever!

But at the beginning of a new year, when i plan for all things new, i must also look back to the last year, and some years, such as this year, i don't want to review what i said i would do in this past year. I'm sure it didn't happen.

Now, i know i should cut myself a break on this. What i thought 2011 was going to look like when it was still January, took a very definite turn as early as February (when i started working away from home), and then jumped off an unknown cliff in July (when my cat set the bathroom on fire). So i guess i should cut myself some slack. But at the same time, i need to take a hint.

Here's the hint:

Get ready now, 'cause this is profound and life changing.

And pretty elementary.

If you don't do the things you want to do, then you won't ever do them, and then they won't get done, and they'll still be on your list next year, and the next year, and so forth.

So if you want to do it. You have to do it.

Everyone feel wiser now?

I know i do.

Just for having thought it.

Let me get a little bit more to the heart of the issue.

There are only 365 days in a year. And as it turns out, 365 days is actually not equal to forever. It's equal to one single solitary rotation around the sun, and it will come to an all too abrupt end, shortly after Christmas, no matter how ready i am for it, should the Lord tarry. And all that i will have gotten done in those 365 days, are the things that i have actually done. Acted on. Pursued. Worked for. Prayed for. Waited for.

I cannot sit and wait on my couch, doing nothing. I have to do things as though i expect to accomplish whatever end result i'm looking for.

Ok?

Anyone confused?

Good.

Do something.

Ah November

2011-12-01T16:29:00.001-06:00

It's interesting to me that many of the months of this year settle themselves in my memory with their own theme.

Let's see...

February - that's the month i went back to work--or the kind of work where you do it for someone else's benefit, and they give you money, work.

April - that's the month i got to go see my family in Michigan, for free.

July - that's the month my cat tried to burn the house down, but succeeded in only scorching the bathroom.

August is when we lived in a scorched bathroom and learned a little about making claims on your homeowners insurance.

September - that's the month that the super husband and i were separated more than ever before in our marriage - the entire month, excluding some weekends. Plus, i was relegated to living with generous strangers since my scorched bathroom was missing. (Upon re-reading, i should clarify that we were separated because he had to leave town for work - not because we were "separated.")

October - that's the month that was consumed by the need to finish the bathroom so we could shower in our own home.

Then there's November.

November was going to be the month that we got back to normal living and showering in our own home.

But it became more than that - full of emotions i won't have words for, even in my wordy blathering here on my blog.

Let's see.

The first week of November, we were (no, we really were this time) bringing the building of the hardest-shower-in-the-world-to-tile to a beautifully tiled close. The weekend of Veteran's Day was our big push. No rest until we shower. We couildn't believe our own eyes when my super hero tiling husband finally laid the very last tile. And then we started grouting, which i apparently have a nack for. ( Did i spell "nack" right?) I grouted. The super plumber, plumbed. It was coming together.

I was looking forward to posting the pictures of my fully completed (it was just almost done) shower on facebook, but on Saturday morning, i got the phone call that i've kind of expected for a couple of years - but that i didn't know how to prepare for. My grandmother, Emmy Pilman, after having appeared to recover beautifully from surgery the night before, had died quickly, early in the morning, on September the 12th.

I never knew how i would respond when that happened. I've never really grieved the death of a loved one before. I was happy that it was my mom who called because unlike my dad (and me), my mom has the ability to say things like, "Your Mormor has gone to Heaven," without immediately bursting into tears. It was only a few minutes before she had me laughing, imagining Mormor in Heaven making Swedish Pancakes for Jesus. I couldn't help being immediately so happy for my beautiful grandmother, who had been suffering from Dementia for too many years. And so grateful to God that i had followed the urgency in my heart to make sure nothing got in the way of that trip to Michigan in April.

I actually made it a condition of my job offer in February. I knew i had to be able to take this trip. It was too important. And because of that i have the most warming memory. When we went to visit Mormor in the nursing home, the staff gave us the use of a private room with a big, round, normal looking dining table, with normal homey decorations, and we sat together, Mormor and Morfar, Mom and Dad, and me, and we ate together. There was even a big fat cat in the room, begging for scraps. It was perfect.

What surprises me about grief, is that even though i'm happy for her, and even though i feel like i got to say all the goodbyes, and even though it's definitely better that she is with Jesus now . . . i still cry every time i think about her being gone. I didn't know i would do that. I have yet to tell any of my co-workers about her death because i know i can't say the words out loud without bursting into tears. And i'm not even sure what i'm crying about.

After learning of Mormor's death, we finished the bathroom. No pictures on facebook -- i wasn't in the mood. But it was a great distraction. Painting and decorating and whatnot are great distractions from grief.

Mormor's memorial was scheduled for the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I wasn't going to be able to make it.

About the same time that we started showering in our bathroom, my dear chicken friend called and offered me four beautiful hens to add to my sad, tiny flock of two, and i was and am so grateful! Happy chickens are a wonderful thing, and my rooster is one happy chicken. :) The routine of chickens is good for me too. Locking them up each night; letting them out each morning; something about that simple schedule gives me motivation to start the day sometimes.

With Mormor's memorial being two whole weeks after her death, i had a lot of time to think about her life. Even though i couldn't go to the memorial, i wanted to send something to share, and since i know how to write better than talk, that worked out. Just by considering her life, more deeply than i ever did while she was alive, i learned things about her that had never crossed my mind. And i loved her even more. I sent my mom and email about what i had learned and about the legacy my beautiful grandmother left for us, and she read it for me at the memorial.

I got a new (to me) couch on Sunday. It looks pretty good. It's a nice change.

Oh, and Thanksgiving was fine . . . fairly normalish. My husband won the family poker game (a Rogers family tradition).

And now it's December.

Please be nice to me, December. I think i'm still reeling from November.
At least i don't have to leave the house to shower.

Hehe!

Some of You

2011-10-29T13:02:00.001-05:00

Some of you have dropped some hints lately, that maybe it has been a while since I posted.

You might be right.

I can't say that I've been particularly busy, just mostly discombobulated.

I got my hero husband back on October first, and its a good thing, because I wasn't coping super well without him.

Of course, though the chaos of my heart was soothed, the chaos of my home and the logistics of functioning on a bathing society was just beginning. It's the shower that was and is still missing from our home. Keeping friends, family, and co-workers from suffering the ill-effects of my showerlessness requires planning, a membership at the rec center, early mornings, and careful packing every day.

Also, we, thinking, as always that our task would take less time than reality is teaching us it that it will, thought we would use the kitchen as a mixing and tile cutting area. As it turns out, tile cutting is very muddy, and mortar mixing is very dusty. This didn't help the chaos at all (well, I guess that depends on your perspective), so last weekend we removed the construction part of our lives to the out of doors, and while my super hero took a much needed football, fishing, and friends break, I cleaned my.house. What an amazing relief. I mean, WHAT AN AMAZING RELIEF!!!!!!

We spent several days this week, with me sick, and my husband waiting on me and trying not to get sick himself. But today we're back at the tiling game. My husband is tiling, and i am blogging and sipping hot tea until he needs me to mix mortar or cut an emergency tile or some such. And also the weather is gloriously fall-like, which additionally eases my chaos.

Also, also, somewhere in the midst of this chaos, my phone, which is my current only avenue to the world wide web, became increasingly narcoleptic and eventually suicidal. We kept it on life support while I, through several frustrating phone calls, attempted to convince ATT that I really hadn't dunked my phone in the toilet for fun, and then my phone, overcome by the necessary chaos of being a Rogers, was unplugged and then replaced. A further relief to my chaos.

I'm hopefully adding a picture or two of our nearly-tiled (no, really, it's almost done) shower. Of course, once we finish tiling, we still have to grout, and seal the grout, and finish the plumbing, and ...so forth.

Your prayers are always welcome. And thank you. Really. Thank you.

Sunrise and worship

2011-09-24T21:16:00.001-05:00

In spite of my seemingly close proximity to the ocean, i don't see it very often. I realized today, that i have not visited the ocean since before I married the super hero.

Tonight we had dinner by the beach. In a few minutes we'll walk on it in the dark.

The first ten minutes or so that we were here, I cried. I'd forgotten how much I love the beach.

The thing that gets to me the most if how unbelievably enormous the water is and how much more beyond my grasp greater, God has to be.

It evokes my heart to worship every time i see the sea. I just can't help it.

*******

It has taken me so long to write this post, that i am finishing it a day later.

Before we left the beach last night, we decided that we would get ourselves up and to the beach in time to watch the sun rise this morning. And that we did.

We collected rocks and sea shells; we checked out washed up sea life; we got thoroughly wet in the surf coming further than we anticipated onto the sand; I cried some more at the awesomeness of it all. Oh, and a nice man walking by, watching us take pictures of the sunrise, offered to take a picture of us. It's one of my favorite pictures ever.

I want to share it with you, but I pathetically have not figured out how to put pictures on my blog with my sometimes not-so-smart-after-all phone, so you'll have to go see it at this link.

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150289713425668&id=717185667&set=a.10150209123220668.321298.717185667&refid=28&_ft_a=717185667&_ft_tf=10150289713425668&_ft_tpi=717185667&_ft_ti=7&_ft_sai=350685531728&_ft_fth=8b6bd2b98e12f4ca&_ft_src=1&_ft_time_ft=131705758&_ft_mf_objid=10150289713425668

Let's hope this works.

Fall

2011-09-23T11:32:00.001-05:00

The weather man said that fall began at 4:04 this morning. I thought about waking up at 4:00 so could be awake for the big moment, but instead, I slept until 5:00, but I was just as happy about fall when I woke up 56 minute after its big debut.

Thank God for fall!!! And mean that. Thank God!

Fall is always my favorite part of the year, but at the close of the hottest, driest, most miserable, sans air conditioning in my car, summer on record (or something ridiculous to that effect), when 90 degrees has become cool weather, and the commonest reaction to the sight of rain sounds more like what you would expect to hear if Houston were having a blizzard, just the thought of fall brings a welcome chill, if only from memory of cooler weather recalled from days gone by.

Thank God for fall.

Second smoky cup

2011-09-23T07:40:00.001-05:00

I have recently rediscovered the luxury of the second cup of coffee. I get my first cup of coffee as I head out the door of the kind family who is caring for me at the moment. So if I want a second cup, I have to stop and buy a refill half way to work.

The gas station where I buy my second cup appears to be clean and brand new, but this cup of coffee....I'm loving it, and it definitely does the trick, but something about the flavor makes me think I should be drinking it in a greasy cafe somewhere, sitting at the bar next to a high hair leather skinned chain smoking woman named Flo. I'm pretty sure Flo made this coffee. It's great.

When a cup of coffee can give you vivid images like that, I think that's quite a cup of coffee!

dreaming of napping

2011-09-20T12:05:00.002-05:00

The weather is so beautiful today!

When i was in college, i would use a day like today for a nice long nap in the grass. And no one looks at you funny for doing something so free-spirited as that when you're in college. Everyone expects you to hear your own drummer and whatnot when you're in college.

But right now, i really want to lay myself down on that pretty patch of grass right there, pretend that fire ants don't really exist in Texas, and take a nice long nap in this perfect weather, until the heat of the afternoon sweats me to soggy, happy wakefulness.

But in the study world of professionalism and strangers walking by on the sidewalk, someone would probably call an ambulance, and then I'd have to pretend to be sick so that I wouldn't get fired for sleeping the afternoon away in the grass beside the courthouse.

Sometimes being a grown-up is not nearly as much fun as i always thought it would be.

Sappiness

2011-09-18T21:20:00.001-05:00

Today is my birthday.

I was in the hotel bathroom this morning when I heard my phone ring and my husband answer my phone and start talking to my dad. It was about 7:30 in the morning, and my only thought was, "Why is he calling me right now? I talked to him two days ago!"

But then when I heard my dad singing his own version of the birthday song, I remembered. "He must think it's my birthday."

I made the trip to see my husband at his out-of-town job because of this weekend being our birthday-anniversary-birthday weekend, but still the actuality of the date slipped my mind. Thankfully, family and friends and Facebook remembered, so I felt thoroughly birthdayed by the end of it.

Sadly, I had to leave my dearly beloved on the industrial coast for a while longer, and by the time the uncontrolled sobs turned into a bearable aching in my heart, I was about a quarter of the way home.

I just don't know how couples are able to do the long distance thing long term. It tears me in two every time.

On the other hand, tomorrow is our 13th wedding anniversary, and even though we can't be together for it, I am so thankful that my heart hasn't stopped aching for my husband when he's not around.

After I stopped sobbing, I spent the trip home thinking about the last thirteen years and listening to the radio, which happened to be airing a show about healthy marriages, or something to that effect. As I reminisced, I thought how thankful I am for two things. One, that i was as sure as I could be, when I got married, that I was marrying the man that God meant for me; and two, that we made a mutual, outspoken decision, before we got married, that divorce would not be an option for us.

Those two things, and the grace of God, have seen us through rough and regular situations that other couples have split up or become enemies over. So I am thankful to have gotten as far as we have and to find ourselves more in love with each other than when we got started, a situation, I'm sure, we anticipated could not possible. But the heart, it has grown, and our love, it has blossomed.

Thank you, my sweet hero husband, for your love and your tenderness and your raw Passion for all things worthy of involvement. And thanks to God for grace and the gift of a loving marriage!

Snotface

2011-09-09T23:32:00.001-05:00

I have so much to write about, but my days have been so full lately, that at the end of them, i haven't found the inspiration to take the time to write. I think i'm going to have to start from some point and just keep telling you stories until life gets boring again, and i can't think of anything to say.

At what point should i attempt a beginning? Maybe ... Labor Day Weekend.

Yes, that's the best i think.

Remember, this was to be our big remodel before my hero hubby had to leave town. He took off work on Thursday and Friday, which would give him five solid days to create a whole new bathroom for us.

To push past the boring part of this story, let's just say that my hero hubby worked long and hard, slept little, and didn't get as far as fast as he would've liked. There were setbacks and frustrations.

At some point during the weekend, my darling fell into what i perceived to be full on panic. "There's no way this will get done! What are we going to do?" were the pleas of my darling, whom i encouraged and cheered on. I convinced him, i guess, that it was all going to work out.

Until Monday, when i learned that i had encouraged him right out of explaining to me that we really weren't going to get done and that we needed to figure out what to do.

My eternal optimism checked, I started considering the possibilities. We did have a couple of possible plans that included partial tile, an installed toilet, and showers at a friend's house. But when we tried repeatedly to prime our well, without success, we both began to entertain nightmares about digging a new well (since we need something extra to do right now), and we gave up completely on the bathroom. I did some crying, and we stopped to consider calmly and seriously what we should do next.

My experience so far with telling this story has proven to me that i don't tell it very well. I haven't figured out how to convey the significance of what happened at that exact moment.

From outside the house, a car horn.

BEEP

BEEP BEEP!

My husband went to see who it was while i stayed in the house and cried. (Yes, i do like trouble, but mostly from a hindsight position.)

"You should go talk to this lady," my husband said when he came back in much sooner than i expected him. "You should go talk to her."

Charli is a lady who lives in my neighborhood. I know her from our neighborhood "Ladies' Coffees" that i used to attend before i went back to work in the big city. We had seen her and her family in town the day before and said hello and explained our horrible appearance and that we were remodeling the bathroom.

I would describe Charli as a very outgoing and straight forward 60ish year old red headed woman, about whom i knew very little else, if that much. And at this moment in the story, she was standing in my driveway looking kind of nervous and determined all at once.

"Hi Charli. How are you?" i greeted her weakly through unveiled snot face.

I don't remember exactly what she said here, so i'm going to make it up.

"We're renovating a piece of property nearby, and we wonder if you all would like to house sit while you're working on your house? Would you like to come see it?"

She did say something to the effect of the above,which i heard in between, "it's good to cry," "you go ahead and cry," and something about understanding about these things. Then i kissed this near stranger, whom i assumed must be the very hand of God delivering me from my troubles, on the face, and followed her to her property.

After conversation, less snotface, and careful consideration, arrangements and plans were made, without my even trying.

Just like that.

As it turns out, the house sitting property isn't quite ready to be lived in, so i've been cared for in Charli's own home in the mean time, where i feel welcomed and trusted and peaceful. And i'm making new friends i mightn't have made without the trouble.

And i know that i am resting in the kind hand of God.

The next day, another angel came and fixed our well before i even got home from work.

I guess i should've stuck to my eternal optimism, which should better be labeled proven trust in God.

Breaking News!

2011-09-02T20:57:00.001-05:00

I am subscribed, by email, to the news updates of a couple of different local news stations. I receive an email once a day, from each of these staitons, that contains a list of daily headlines,with links i can follow if i would like to read "the rest of the story."

I also receive email messages if ever there is "breaking news," and i am mostly always disappointed. Mostly at the apparent inability of our media to ascertain what sorts of "news" should or should not be classified as "breaking," or "news."

It has happened quite a bit lately, that I have taken note of the new meaning of news, which is most often an unsurprising continuation of a series of events we've been reading or hearing about for so long we don't really remember not knowing.

So, since blogging is technically part of the media, i thought it would be fun to share some breaking news with you.

Tonight's Breaking News

As predicted, my husband continues to not sleep and work on completing the remodel of our bathroom, which, if you remember, was the location of a small but meaningful housefire back in July.

As previously reported, said super hero is scheduled to leave town for the entire month of September and is working heroically, as is his manner, to fix for me a suitable arrangement before his absence.

I continue, every day, to be amazed by the goodness of God through all our "trouble" and thankful for the many blessings of which i find myself the ever-humbled benefactor.

During the course of the writing of this post, Hero Husband got some sleep, we spent some more money, and he continues to work tirelessly. I expect to show you some amazing pictures in the near future.

Signing off now to listen to the beautiful rain.

Goodnight friends.

So many things

2011-08-29T20:10:00.001-05:00

I have had such a full section of days since i last wrote that i am sad for all the good blog posts i didn't have time to write. Boy how life can speed up on you before you know what happened.

We were already ramping up for a big labor day weekend, wherein we planned to get our first big start at remodeling our bathroom. Then (right now i can't seem to remember how many days ago all of this started) my resident super hero learned that his work would be shipping him off to the far side of Houston, for a month, beginning the day after labor day.

This fancy tidbit of information commanded a change in urgency for our bathroom plans. The bathroom plans, combined with our intensified need for two working vehicles, has resulted in a lot of lost sleep and an incredible speed by which we have spent ridiculous amounts of insurance money at near lightning speed. (Repetitive but true). I'm dizzy, and tired, and getting poor. But i am not even a little bit bored.

I'm not sure i can remember bored. Not while living with a super hero.

Which brings me to something important.

My car-fixing-bathroom-gutting-money-spending super hero nearly used up all his super powers this weekend in his effort to ensure that i would not be inconvenienced while he's out of town. Sweet wonderful man.

I love him.

And i am periodically moved to tears by how much he loves me.

And i am really really blessed to be able to say such things.

So many things.

The End of Lamentations

2011-08-24T12:07:00.001-05:00

I realized today, this morning, during the upside of a long commute, which is the time for your mind to hear and clear, that i have forgotten an important lesson from my past.

Eight or nine years ago, we were living in the house that lovingly referred to as my "dream rent house." I loved the floor plan; i loved the location; i loved my plans for it; etc., etc.

This was the first "place of our own" after our first Texas rent house burned all the way to the ground, and i was well attached to it, so when my husband started mentioning thoughts of leaving this home, i rebelled loudly...on the inside, of course. Well, probably a little on the outside to. Yeah, maybe a lot on the outside.

After the insecurity of losing our home and depending on others for so many months, i had placed my trust in a location and a situation, things which, i should always know, can never be trusted.

In my distress, i began to bring my worries before God, who reminded me how temporal this world is and how finding satisfaction in things and earthly situations will always disappoint.

During this time, i even had a dream about having a house, full of beautiful, costly furniture that was a blessing and a gift from Him. In the dream, i was told to hold these things loosely, as with a cupped hand, ready to give or just release.

But lately i have found myself in lamentations, not the book, just the state. I have lamented not being home with my chickens and my things, i have lamented having no time to bake bread or can preserves. I have lamented the many hours spent away from my home and the subject of many of my "humble ambitions."

Today, i remembered a plaque I eventually nailed to the wall of my "dream rent house." It had a picture of a little spindly flower in a pot, and it said, "bloom where you're planted." This was my reminder that God wants me to flourish in every situation, and today it is my reminder that He doesn't want me to waste my time wishing i were someplace i'm not right now. He wants me to bloom wherever i am.

So even though it's pretty hard to be any more than just a wannabe farmer right now, i need to make the most of the time i have wherever i am, or i may someday lament the time i wasted, and the opportunities i missed while i was wishing i was someplace i had already been.

What's on my mind.

2011-08-21T08:13:00.001-05:00

Yesterday we crossed a big milestone in our insurance adventure. We got paid. Very big deal. In order to get paid, we had to cross through the wilderness of downtown Houston in our not air-conditioned car in 103 degree heat, etc., etc. We had other plans and brands this weekend also, and basically this is the first rested few minutes I have had at my house this weekend. I am pooped but happy to have accomplished important things on our goal list.

I made another break-through. After our clothes were delivered from the cleaning company, I was determined that there was no way I was going to keep so many items that I haven't missed for the last month, in my house, to just take up space. So last evening, after we got back from our adventures, I went to work unpacking and sorting. It went much faster than i anticipated, and I now have 2-3 boxes of clothes and shoes to donate and a giant pile of items that should only have been kept as rags to begin with. I'm not quite finished, but I made a ton of progress, and I feel much better.

When I get a few minutes, i think i'm going to create a review blog. Mostly, my deal is that when I have experiences with products or services, I generally have something to say about them, and I want the interwebs to benefit from my experience, but I don't really think that you, my farm and life friends, are necessarily interested in my critical review of every product i use or service i try. So a sisters sort of site seems in order.

So. since i clearly don't have enough to do right now, i'm wanting to go ahead and create this new blog, but i'm having trouble deciding what to name it. Any ideas?

I considered "Humble Reviews," but, let's face it, reviews don't really lend themselves to humility. I thought of "Beth's List", but i'm sure I can be more original than that.

Unsolicited Opinions

The Hard Truth

Does Beth Like It?

Can YOU Handle the Truth?

I just can't decide. Not a good start for a reviewer/critic, I guess, but it is what it is.

I would love love love any opinions or ideas from y'all about my potential review blog's potential name.

Fire away, please.

Stronger, wiser, and funnier

2011-08-18T20:43:00.001-05:00

Do you remember how I told you that trouble makes us stronger? It's true. Though I have to admit that i'm almost ready to lie back and take a break and admire my new muscles. Our most recent trouble inspired change ... lots of it, and I am very excited about that. Also, I think that this new adventure is teaching me and my gun stinging super hero more about being partners, and we're taking new steps forward. Pretty awesome. Right now, i'm sitting in a room full of boxes and bags of recently cleaned clothes and shoes and whatnot that i'm frankly not sure what to do with. Did we really have this much stuff in our little house? Where did we put it all, and what did we use it for? I see a big donation to something in our future.We're facing a remodel/restoration, repairs of cars, record heat and drought, and yet i'm at peace and looking forward to how i'll grow and change and learn through it all.This is new for me. It's amazing how God changes us, and I am forever grateful.ready

Testing

2011-08-18T20:31:00.001-05:00

Testing 123

dusty rain and other wild anomalies

2011-08-15T22:33:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we had rain.

It was quite an event.

The t.v. was on when it first started raining, and my husband heard an unfamiliar noise and ordered the television volume off, so he could listen. A very tiny moment later, he was outside, examining the air. What is this stuff falling from the sky?

It didn't rain super extra hard or soaking, but it rained. The cat hid, the baby chicks ran for cover, and we rejoiced.

Funny though, my husband noticed. The rain was stirring up dust. The ground is so dry that when the rain drops hit the ground, instead of creating mud, it just stirred up the dirt a little.

How sad.

But, i've noticed, we sure are a lot more grateful for tiny showers and big storms these days. Sometimes lack is a blessing. It helps us remember how much we're blessed.

Just to set the record straight

2011-08-12T21:19:00.000-05:00

I was chatting with my loving mother a couple of nights ago, and it came to my attention that folks living in non-Texan places might have heard a rumor that it has cooled down here in Texas.

I'm here to set the record straight.

It is HOT.

At the end of the day, your body tells you when you haven't had enough to drink, because you start to wilt. And if you dare do something crazy, like go for a walk between the hours of 10:00 a.m. and 7:30 p.m., you just might put yourself in the hospital. It's crazy hot.

This afternoon, i opted to treat myself to a Dr. Pepper instead of water on my way home from work, and i feel it. So now i sit and sip on icey cold tea and just give my body a chance to recoop.

Believe it or not, though, there's a rumor we might be on our way to some cooler weather. It was only 96 in the heat of the afternoon, and one small area in houston actually saw water fall from the sky. It caused a traffic jam, and i heard someone caught pneumonia from the cold weather, but we're hoping the cool will come back anyway.

Is it really too much to ask for temps in the 90s?

Really?

That is my Friday evening, dehydrated rant.

And for all of you in the U.S. who are experiencing weird weather, including way too much rain instead of too little, we're all in it together. I haven't forgotten you. Maybe i just wish someone could get a big spoon a stir the pot a bit so we could get some rain, and you could get some dry.

Let's keep praying.

Good night y'all, before i start rambling.

I know, too late.

in stride, or something

2011-08-11T20:54:00.000-05:00

Dear blog readers,

I still love you. My recent absence is no reflection on you or my affection for you. Instead, i have been overwhelmed by insurance adjusters, big decisions, broken down cars, extremely persistent very very VERY hot weather, and shockingly inadequate computer function, which have joined together to keep me from blogging, and have very nearly succeeded, until now. Now, i will blog.

The last time we talked, my kitten had made a feeble attempt at burning the house down. This is the faultiness of kittens: they haven't been around long enough to realize who they're messing with. Poor kitty. He couldn't have known how much experience we have with fires. Who would?

Well, nearly four weeks later, we think we might be at the brink of getting some money for fixing our house. It seems that getting the money will involve at least one road trip among our unexpected complications, but we're figuring it out as we go and taking it in stride. Or something like that. I'm not sure i know exactly what "taking it in stride" really means, but folks have used this expression about me in my past, and now i think it sounds cool, so i keep it around as a go-to expression wherever i think it fits in.

Updates? Well, i spent a week with my wonderful friends after my car broke down, at the end of which, my hubby and i borrowed said wonderful friends' vehicle to go search for our own. We bought a dependable vehicle for way less than it was worth, and we're back on the road. Well, i'm back on the road, my husband is back on the bike until he fixes my other car - the one with air conditioning. In any event, i can live in my own house and also attend my place of employment, and we're pretty happy about that.

The car: my husband re-invented and built the non-existent tool meant for loosening the impossible bolt and found the non-existent replacement impossible bolt for use at a later date. However, all the re-invented tools and power tools and leverage instruments at my husband's and his friends' disposal could not loosen the impossible bolt from its place, where it undoubtedly intends to live forever, in my car up on blocks, on my front porch.

We might be a redneck.

There are plans to redeem my little car, despite the stubbornness of the unsuspecting impossible bolt, and i have hope and faith that i will once again drive my happy, tiny, gas efficient, air conditioned honda.

Partly because my wonderful husband will eventually grow weary of riding his bike home from work.

I assume.

The house: tonight we went from playfully flirting with, to becoming engaged to, the notion of making the most of the insurance money we will receive by doing the labor ourselves. Well, i'm playing a little fast and loose with the words, "we" and "us" and "ourselves." What i mean is that one of "us" will do the labor, while all of "us" enjoy the benefits. You get my meaning. Stay tuned for pictures of the great job "we" do in the somewhat near future.

Inadequate computer function: Another change during this season is that we have decided to pull the plugs on our land line phone and dsl and desk top computers, in favor of the exciting world of wireless communications, i.e., android smart phones. Sadly and happily, our phones can access our emails faster than our computers most of the time, and they take up way less space, so we're going to stop wasting money and space on all this computer business. Hoping that works out ok. I'm ready for a change.

In fact, i'm so ready for a change, that i am constantly looking for things to throw away lately. This is going to be an interesting year.

O.k., loves, i've probably rambled on enough for now. If it is within my power to do so, i promise not to wait so long to write next time.

Beth

When it Rains, it pours

2011-07-25T21:35:00.000-05:00

and sometimes it just sprinkles.

Two weekends ago i had a housefire. Is that right? I think that's right.

It has been a long two weeks, so it seems like a few months ago.

Well, what i didn't tell you is that while our house was trying not to burn to the ground, my husband's truck was in the shop, finding out that it would cost us $1800 to fix a $500 truck's transmission. And in the haze of a sleepless night fighting fire, my husband sold it the next day to a mechanic who thought it was worth the $500 we paid for it. Not such a bad idea, just interesting timing.

Plus, we have two cars for a reason.

Well, i think it was Wednesday of the following week . . . yes, that's right. We had barely gotten back into our newly cleaned-by-strangers house, when my sweet little car started overheating for no apparent reason. Well, nothing apparent, except for the mysterious leak taking place nowhere near the radiator -- except for that.

So, this past weekend, my husband went about learning what could make a 15 year-old honda civic start leaking and overheating. As it turns out, his deductions led him to believe that the water pump needed to be replaced. Well, needs to be replaced.

My car repairing super hero worked and worked and worked, enlisted friends, and worked and worked and worked, and discovered that the water pump is attached to the engine block or some such ( i don't actually know what an engine block is, but i nod intelligently, and people think i know ); thus the entire engine has to be dismantled on my front porch in order to get to the place where there is an impossible bolt that must be persuaded to loosen, by use of some mysterious tool that the auto-parts store will insist does not exist. If you find the non-existent tool, you may or may not be able to work its magic on your impossible bolt, but if you do, you'll have to replace the bolt, which is also not in existence at your auto parts store.

Get the picture?

Whoever said "just" in front of "replace the water pump" clearly didn't see this picture. Or else, this whoever might have taken my car to the mechanic. Maybe.

In any event, my car is dismantled on my front porch, where the chickens can poop on it, and i had no way to get to work in a city that is a 45 minute drive from my house.

Our life has been way too easy lately really. I was getting bored. I jest, of course, but then again not really. Because i have to admit to you something. O.k., i don't have to, but i'm going to, and it's for your own good. This whole situation has made me kind of excited. Yes, i'm nuts, but just listen.

Trouble is good for us. Or at least it can be.

On Sunday evening, i had to start looking for alternatives to losing my job because of an impossible bolt and a non-existent bolt-loosening-tool and start inviting myself over to the homes of people who weren't expecting company. Also, once i persuaded someone to let me come live with them indefinitely, i had to find someone to take me to said host's home, 45 minutes away.

I am always surprised at the generosity of even my closest friends, probably because i do not know that i would be so generous in a similar situation. It took a total of about 5 text messages for me to arrange a place to sleep, in the home of my best good friend and her family, and a ride from my sister-in-law, who would have to drive 30 minutes to get to my house, then drive me another 40 minutes in the opposite direction to drop me off, and then drive home. My s-i-l was having an "open day," and "of course" she would take me. And my best friend was giddy. It's like i had called to say,"let's have a slumber party."

Reason #1 why trouble is good for you: It forces you to ask for favors and receive love.

Also, you learn an abundance of things. You learn that you are stronger than you thought; you learn that God is faithful; you learn what is important to you; you learn who cares for you. You learn so many things.

And you get so much stronger!

This might sounds strange, but before the ashes had even cooled after our very first house fire, i became thankful. I knew that God was turning us in a different direction. I am a completely different person than i was almost 11 years ago when our house burned to the ground. I am stronger; i am wiser; i am more willing to love; i am more level-headed; i am less materialistic; i am closer to God; i am not the same person i was.

Today, i am overwhelmed by the love of my friends. Even though i am separated from my super-lovin' husband, and i miss him, i am covered in friendship and kindness and love. It's funny how independence can keep us from loving each other. But now i am dependent and having a lovely time.

I might be crazy, and i don't want it all the time. But i think i kind of like trouble.

⁵ But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, ⁶ to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, ⁷ to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. ⁸ For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. ⁹ For he who lacks these things is shortsighted, even to blindness, and has forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins.

2 Peter 1:5-9

I'm an Oak.

2011-07-20T22:07:00.000-05:00

Are you as particular as i am?

There are a lot of things in my life that i have learned to just let be. I've learned to relax about someone's socks on the floor. I've learned to look the other way when perfectly intelligent people misspell words i'm sure they should've learned in the second grade. I've even learned that if your house burns down, it isn't necessarily the end of the earth as you know it. I mean, i think i have become a pretty flexible person, all things considered.

Today, i and my fire-fighting-super-hero got to move back into our slightly charred house. The ~~cleaning salesman~~ fellow who makes a living by contracting folks to clean charred houses, walked through our house with us and had us sign papers saying it was clean and that we approve of his getting paid. And i have to say that we were fully impressed. I mean, really. Reportedly there were something like ten people in my 700 square foot house, just whirring away, cleaning every nook and cranny they could find, and they did a bang up job. They cleaned things that have never been cleaned in this house. Like ever.

Anyway, (getting back to the point, if there is one), among their cleaning duties was my dishes. I mean, all of them, everywhere. The soot had to be removed from every surface. Every fork, every spoon, every everything.

Well, after we had signed away our approval, my shopping-without-me-super-hero went to the store to pick up a few things, like pillows and sheets and toilet paper, and i went about putting our house in order. The main pattern i started to find throughout the house is the indication that cleaning people don't necessarily feel the obligation to put things back exactly the way the found it.

I'm o.k. with that. After all, i just told you how flexible i am.

I put a pizza in the oven, made some tea, went to look for a glass . . .

and started yelling at the strangers who aren't here and can't hear me. My cup cabinet. It's just not right.

It is a woman's prerogative to situate the glasses in her cabinet as she sees fit, and they shall not be moved. Do you hear me? Do you see this?

"Noooooooooooooooo! What did you DOooooooooooo? Oh NOOO! This isn't RIGHT! You can't put that THERE! Oh NO. This is wrong!" were the lamentations my chickens could undoubtedly hear from outside the kitchen window.

(You think i'm joking here, and you are mistaken.)

After a solid minute of yelling and picking up glasses that were in entirely the wrong place, and putting them down in a different wrong place, and finding the plethora of wrong places entirely too overwhelming, i finally had to close the cabinet to avoid a full-on break down. I'm still a little verklempt about the whole thing. A few minutes later, i found solace in rearranging the silverware drawer, which was so bad i just couldn't ignore it, but easier to fix.

Flexible? I guess not.

I mean, burn my house down? Sure. But rearrange my glasses?

Stand right there while i get my pistol.

Maybe you better leave my cup cabinet alone. I do have my limits.

a kitten a candle and getting happy about laundry

2011-07-17T09:45:00.000-05:00

Right now, i'm sitting on a hotel room bed, next to my loving man, enjoying some microwave popcorn, while watching reruns on tv waiting for our laundry to dry. I have been hesitating to write this post, both because it's kind of a pain to write a decent post from a cell phone, and because those of you who have read the archives of this blog -- or who know me outside of blogland may roll their eyes in disbelief and boredom at the repetetive plotline rearing its head in this story of my life:

We, my husband and i, have now experienced and survived our fifth fire. Our fourth house fire. To be fair, fire 4 was less of a house fire and more just flaming plastic raining from the bathroom ceiling, but it remains that fire, in whatever form, has played an unusually themy (as in predominate theme) in the story of our marriage thus far.

This time there was apparently a lit candle in a window sill, near a trash can full of toilet paper. Presumably there was also a kitten playing in the area. In any event, there was definitely a fire near 1:00 a.m. in our bathroom, which was quickly contained, did not cause any injuries, and did not burn the house down.

All is pretty good for us. This time we have the blessing of insurance, which is taking much of the headache of cleaning and repairs. Praise God!

Oh yeah, the happy laundry. I have never, in my memory, been so happy as i was this afternoon when i discovered i could wash our one load of non-smoky laundry in the guest laundry room in our hotel. It's amazing what we take for granted, and even despise, when times are easy, that we really really appreciate when things are even slightly inconvenienced.

When i started this post, it was Saturday evening, July 16. But as i got toward the end of my post, my husband wonderful smart phone completely gave up on me, and i had to pause. It is now Sunday morning, July 17. I am sitting at my own computer, however sooty, with a real keyboard, and waiting for the wonderful fellow who will pick up our clothes and linens and other fabric things and clean the smoke away for us. Very handy profession that i didn't know anything about until now.

For my church friends, i don't think i'll make it to church this morning, me in my stained, sweaty, and now newly smoky clothes, and waiting for the laundry cleaner. This afternoon, we'll check into a small motel closer to home, and wait for the cleaners to "ozonate" our house. Apparently "ozonating" will really do a number on anything that breathes air, but it will also clean the nasty smell out of our house and our furniture. Another handy service i was completely ignorant of.

I better sign off. If you don't hear from me, it's because i am somewhat technology incapable for a few days. But everything is a ok. And it's really nice (this is my first experience with it) to have insurance when you have a household disaster. Just sayin'. Done it both ways, and this rocks! <3

this is where the title goes.

2011-07-16T20:18:00.000-05:00

This is a test. This only a test.

I love the way He holds me.

2011-07-11T19:49:00.000-05:00

Today is Monday. And it started out pretty good.

I got plenty of sleep, woke up on time, remembered to eat breakfast, drink coffee, and read my Bible, sadly, in that order. I had great hair, even better make-up, and i got started early enough that i had time to pick up chocolate for the girls at the office (it's always a good idea to keep chocolate on hand with 60 women in one office). Today was gonna be great! I EVEN called in to my radio station on the way to work and said something funny that was aired on the morning show. How great is that!?

I was all set to have a productive, successful day.

But then.

At some point, not long after 8:00 a.m., the entire downtown area experienced a power outage. That's not such a big deal, right? The courthouse generators roared up to a 1/4 power or so, and some of us were still able to use our computers, and the copy machines would pretend to make copies, but couldn't muster enough electricity to actually print a page.

But still, we marshalled on.

Sometime after 9:00 a.m., our power came back. Fans revved, computers whirred, copiers actually copied. But in the electric flicker of generator power, both my computer - and the building's chiller pump (i.e. air conditioning) bit the dust.

Oh dread.

I don't know what you do for a living. But i . . . i NEED MY COMPUTER. And i really need an air conditioner in 98 degree heat. That's just me.

And by lunch time, hot, sweaty, forlorn, and saddened at the site of my computer being stolen away to the techy hospital, i had lost all my Monday morning gusto. It's a good thing i started out with as much as i did, i guess.

I sat in my car and ran the air conditioner for 30 minutes or so, while i connected with encouraging friends on my wonderful little phone. Very thankful for Facebook today. Just sayin'.

I spent the afternoon sitting at other people's desks, usurping computers that aren't set up right, while sitting on chairs set so low that getting up and down equals doing squats in the office. I was trying to fend off all out grumpy for five hours, when it happened.

My head, hanging now by only a thread, was bitten off by a friend and co-worker who was having as difficult a day as me. And she made me cry.

I think i might be pathetic.

And whiny.

And this is my blog; i'll whine if i want to.

Happily, however, just in time, the air conditioner was fixed, and around 4 pm, my computer was returned to me, with all the right settings, fully recovered from its electrical shock of the morning. Thank you techy hospital!

Some days it seems like nothing goes right.

But when it was over, i was really thankful for my comfortably positioned desk chair, my car with a working air conditioner, cold water in a bottle, a husband who loves me even when i'm whiny, a beautiful dog who greets my at my car door every day, and God who is there holding me while i cry over temporary and minor inconveniences.

This has been a blog post with almost no moral, except that everyone has rough days, silly days, and pathetic days, and God knows about all of them ahead of time.

That is all.

A Dream Within a Dream

2011-07-10T16:19:00.000-05:00

There are many musings in my mind today. We will see if i can wrangle any of them in to something worth reading.

". . . Marriage, that blessed arrangement, that dream within a dream . . . Love, true love, will follow you forever. . . "

(quote from "The Princess Bride," minus the pronunciation changes)

Sadly, i don't know too many people who think so positively about marriage these days. It seems like the most complicated situation in anyone's life. So much so that only something like 50% of people who marry stay married, and of those, well, i haven't heard any actual stats on happy marriages. . . but i have encountered people, and so have you, so we can probably infer some conclusion from our experiences.

". . . a man will leave his father and mother and be united with his wife, and the two will become one flesh."

Ephesians 5:31

When i first got married, it was absolute bliss, right up until we both had to go back to work and life and encounter the world as "man and wife." It didn't take too long before the ideals of a couple of dreamers, and the conflicts of our expectations and life in general, led to more screaming matches than i'd like to remember. The thing i hated the most about those times was the feeling that in order for a conflict to be resolved, one of us had to "win."

I had my first big epiphany toward the production of a healthy marriage when i realized that on any occasion, in any conflict, against any odds, neither of us "wins," unless both of us win. We're a team.

It seems very simple, i know. Of course you're a team. You're married. But when there's a conflict, a fight, an argument, who are you rooting for? Sure, sometimes one person is obviously the one in the wrong. More often, we're both in the wrong. Less often, neither of us were in the wrong, except for the part where we started fighting about it. The simplicity of the matter is this: the only side you're allowed to be on is each other's. And that is final.

Don't get me wrong; there are good reasons for married couples to hash out issues in order to come to healthy conclusions. Arguing is not always destructive. As long you're on the same side. Ladies, did your mother, or your aunt, or your grandma, ever tell you, "better pick your battles, honey." ? This is why. At least, this is partly why.

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves."

Phillippians 2:3-4

"Therefore, laying aside falsehood, speak truth to one another . . . for we are members of one another. Be angry, and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and in do not give the devil an opportunity"

Ephesians 4:25-26

She told you to pick your battles for many reasons, one of them is that it isn't your job to fix your husband (or your wife). But that subject is probably for another post.

Running Over

2011-07-06T20:55:00.001-05:00

This morning, during my lunch break, i attempted to post to this blog and tell you a nice story, from my new groovy phone. Sadly, just when i was about to be ready to hit "send," i pushed the back space key too hard, and i lost my entire post. Sadly, there's no "un-do" button on my phone. Lesson learned. I'm going to attempt now to recreate the post i wrote earlier, but since i'm not in the moment anymore, i'll need you to imagine this post to be just a little more moving than it actually will be, just to make up for the lost time.

In any event, my post started with this picture:

I'm not sure if you can tell what this is a picture of, so i'll have to tell you about it.

Several years ago, before we became wanna-be-farmers, my crafty self picked up the somewhat short-lived hobby of beading and jewelry-making. I made simple custom jewelry to match my outfits for work. I felt crafty, and it saved me some money. Near the end of my personal beading fad, a good friend and co-worker asked me if i could repair a couple of pieces of jewelry for her. I accepted the task and took her jewelry in a little box, labeled, "Nelia's Jewelry."

Soon after i accepted Nelia's broken bobbles, i took a job at another office in the courthouse, and 18 months or so after that, i left the courthouse altogether, bobbles still broken.

After becoming a wanna-be-farmer, i remember opening my friend's box a couple of times, trying to remember what she had asked me to do with the items she entrusted to me. But i didn't remember, and the box remained closed, bobbles still broken.

Fast forward to a few months ago, when i came back to work in my old office, the same one where i met my friend, Nelia, and where i acquired her bobbles. I tried again to remember what Nelia wanted done with her jewelry, but when i couldn't remember, i could only apologize.

Then, in a separate transaction, i offered to lend my beading supplies to my friend so that she and her children could work on a project they had planned -- a gift for a friend. I delivered to my friend a dusty old shoe box, with disorganized beads and string and wire, and a few small tools. (And further apologies for her still broken jewelry, in the same box). And i was delighted as Nelia displayed her creations around her neck at work and reported the fun her children were having with my beads. It was the most action that box had seen in years, and i was pleased that they would get some use. She even found her broken jewelry and fixed it herself.

I have repeatedly assured Nelia that she could keep my beads as long as she liked, but today, i received my supplies back, with a beautiful thank you note, and looking not quite so shabby. Not shabby at all.

Instead of my old dirty shoe box, my beads are now encased in plastic, instead of cardboard, and carried in a lovely and appropriate tote. That's the picture you see. Organization in a tote.

And gratefulness that threatened to move me to tears, right there in my cubicle.

I had given my friend what i thought was worth little. Dusty, mismatched beads, small cheap tools, forgotten promises and sad apologies. But when the gift was given freely, it produced much. It enriched, and it spurred new skills and talents. It also returned to me "pressed down, shaken together, and running over," so to speak.

Blessed.

It's hard for me to know if i am communicating to you my heart. I learned something today. That a gift, given freely, cannot be judged by its appearances. But so much more than that.

Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure -pressed down,shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return.

Luke 6:38

Grateful Acknowledgments

2011-07-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

"When we view the blessings with which our country has been favored, those which we now enjoy, and the means which we possess of handing them down unimpaired to our latest posterity, our attention is irresistibly drawn to the source from whence they flow. Let us then, unite in offering our most grateful acknowledgments for these blessings to the Divine Author of All Good."

~James Monroe

I agree.

Happy Independence Day!

2011-07-02T10:53:00.001-05:00

This is Columbo, my semi- new kitten friend.

2011-07-02T10:34:00.001-05:00

Learning

Today i'm learning how to do this mobile blogging business. Please bear with me. :)

2011-07-02T10:31:00.001-05:00

Testing

I discovered something marvelous today

2011-06-29T21:33:00.000-05:00

One of the things i have missed, since getting away from the house for so many hours of the day, is keeping in touch with my on-line, blogging friends. With precious little time at home, i don't want to spend too much of it staring at a computer screen, instead of enjoying my lovely husband and my home, but i have missed my online friendships.

Recently, i decided to invest my personal spending money in a better-than-what-i-used-to-have cell phone. And after a great deal of reading and price comparisons, i bought one of these on E-bay, at a considerable discount to whatever price you might find elsewhere.

It's a Pantech Ease. It's not an i-phone, but it does lots of cool stuff, including this:

which i really appreciate.

I got it less than a week ago, and i have been playing with it during my lunches and whatnot, to find out what all sort of fun things it will do for me, without charging me extra money. Well, today, i discovered that i can read my friends' blogs on my phone, by use of the google reader app for mobile/smart phones. I am DElighted. While i was sitting on a bench in front of the courthouse, munching on my tortilla sandwich, i also got to read a friend's blog and feel a little more connected. There's a lot to be said for a tiny little piece of technology that can connect you to people all over the world. I dig it.

Also, as a warning, i can write blog posts from my phone. Since i don't know exactly how that will work yet, i'm letting you know . . . if you see something here on my blog that doesn't make much sense, that might be why.

Oh, and for those of you who have been mobile and internet ready for years and years, please keep in mind that this wannabefarm-girl hasn't used a cell phone in years, and when she did, well, the fanciest thing that phone did was send text messages.

The photos contained in this blog were acquired from pantechusa.com and also link back to that site.

My Tiny Flock

2011-06-29T06:13:00.000-05:00

I was looking over my recent posts this morning and realized how remiss i have been in the wanna-be farming department. We do have things going on around here. I told you about my chicks a while back. Well, here they are about a week ago:

When i realized my mistake, i grabbed my camera and went out to the chicken coop at 5:26 a.m., in the pitch black darkness and took pictures. Here are the chicks - or as many of them as i could get in the camera at one time. The blond ones (the buff orpingtons) are for us to keep. The others are for a friend.

This is Arne (Arne means eagle in one of the Scandinavian languages, and it's just funny to name a chicken, "Eagle.") Pronounced Arnee. This picture is a little blurry, but even with the blur, i think you can see that he is a truly gorgeous boy.

This is my broody hen. She's broody every time she sees an egg. In this picture, she's studiously brooding a golf ball, but it is very likely that when she notices that i stole her egg, she won't be broody anymore. She's a little broody-moody like that.

This is my non-broody hen, looking suspiciously at the bright flashing light interrupting her beauty sleep.

I told you that i pared the flock down a bit in February, a bit too much. But over the weekend, something pared it down for us a little more. These are now our only three grown chickens. I'm thinking i'm going to start taking their eggs and incubating them (even though they are very few) as i get them, just to propogate the flock. I'm hoping i can produce them faster than the wilds can take them away. These are some of the challenges of farming while working away from home, but we will conquer anyway. You just watch, in a year, we'll have 95 buff orpingtons running around like chickens with their......wait, that's not a good simile for this context. They'll be running around like happy chickens on the farm.

Good day friends!

Peace and Gratefulness

2011-06-28T05:38:00.000-05:00

You know, after all this time (four months or so), after switching from being a full time homemaker/chicken wrangler, to being a full time go-some-place-else-to-make-money-er/chicken hobbyist, i'm still not wrapping my head around it very well. Once i had what many people consider an "alternate" way of life, it stuck to me -- deep inside me. Nothing else makes that much sense to me anymore.

There have been times when i have been SO frustrated - the same frustrations i had in the old days, before chicken wrangling and whatnot -- the difficulty of keeping a home you're not in most of the time, the difficulty of balancing . . . juggling. How do i keep my passion about my home and our dreams and still be a great employee -- but not become a workaholic?

One morning, on my way to work, i was crying in frustration over all the confusion in my head. Having left a hopelessly messy house to go and keep someone else's business in order, instead of my own . . . and i was praying and sobbing it out to the Lord, when He started to encourage my heart. He's awesome like that. Here are a few of the things i think i'm starting to learn:

This is a season. And it's here for a reason.

Sometimes God moves us into something that is hard for us, to show us that He can help us to conquer in that situation too. And to grow us and mold us in ways that He couldn't do when everything was ideal for us.

Sometimes, He puts us in situations we can't handle, so that we will learn to let Him handle our situations. If everything we have to handle is easy, we never learn how to let Him take care of us.

His grace is always sufficient. His patience is unending. His plan is -- it's so infinitely involved in His very best for us that we just can't begin to understand how deep His love is.

I can feel my inner self (hopefully not so much my outer self) growing and stretching and becoming more than i could have been without the experiences He has brought me through. And then i become overwhelmingly grateful.

Even though my house is a mess.
Even though there's no milk in the fridge.
Even though i lie in bed at night thinking about my job.

He's just so faithful. He causes me to be grateful, and i can only see a tiny glimpse of His plan, a tiny glimpse of His infinity, but i see enough to know that His plans for me are because He loves me. And then my heart is at peace.

Bunny Update and Rain

2011-06-23T06:03:00.000-05:00

You might recall that when i went back to work, we decided to give up our bunnies - and admit defeat. Well, i sold them to a good friend who wanted to get started with bunnies, and she has found success! Molly and Oliver, on their second try, have made this beautiful little herd of white bunnies.

O.k., well, i've been trying for two days to upload a really cute picture of lots of white bunnies, but i have been unsuccessful. I'm sorry. Just try to imagine lots of cuteness.

Also, here in the heart of drought-land, we got lots of rain yesterday, and we are very pleased. Sadly, we don't know when we'll get rain again, but we're all thinking positive rainy thoughts, and i think that the deluge we had yesterday must have helped to contain the wildfires that have been multiplying in these parts.

So, this is my hurried mid-week update, while i swallow my eggs and gulp my coffee. I hope you enjoy a little.

Happy Thursday!

Any Other Friday

2011-06-19T22:29:00.000-05:00

Last week, i spent a lot of time lamenting and worrying unnecessarily.

I worried about not having money for lunches (spending error), only to look back from the end of my week and see that God provided lunch - and good company for lunch - every day of the week.

On Friday, my usual day of rejoicing and irresponsible spending, a (ginormous) bank error meant that my (and some 2000 other county employees') paycheck wasn't in my bank account when it was supposed to be - and wouldn't be all weekend. Looking back, several things just so happened to make so that not getting my paycheck wasn't a big deal. My husband just so happened to get a bonus check this very same Friday....and a few other things.

Hind-sight is 20/20, they say. I look back at a week of worrying and complaining to see that God provided for every detail, and i needn't have worried. Then i got thankful.

This afternoon, a hose on my radiator split in this huge heat, and i never worried a bit. Funny. I just assume it will all be taken care of.

Then this evening, after reading some news about how the Texas wild fires are growing uncomfortably close to our literal neck of the woods, i packed a little "go bag," so that if we have to get out of the woods quickly, we'll have something to wear. But i still didn't worry.

It's funny what a little thankfulness can do.

It's funny how we forget how big and simultaneously micro-involved in our lives God is. He doesn't miss a thing. And He knows just what we need to prepare us for the next thing. The next challenge, the next obstacle, the next hill that will make us grow a little more - and a little more like Him - and little closer to Him.

On Friday, while i was not being thankful, i kept saying how if this had been "any other Friday," i wouldn't have had gas to get to work. If it had been "any other Friday," our bills would not be paid. If it had been "any other Friday" . . . but it wasn't any other Friday. It was this Friday. It was a Friday that God knew about and provided for. And used to teach me.

On Father's Day - What bears repetition.

2011-06-19T09:40:00.000-05:00

This is a copy of a Father's Day post i wrote for my dad a couple of years ago. If i say so myself, it says what my heart feels so well, that it bears repetition. I love my daddy, and i always have, and he has always loved me. Happy Father's Day to the bestest daddy in the whole wide world.

Here's the post:

To My Daddy

This is me.

I'm pretty sure i was two.

I'm wearing my Daddy's sun glasses, my Daddy's cowboy hat, and my Daddy's Cowboy boots (with my pink flower shorts and matching red and blue tank of course).

Do you know why?

Because my Daddy is the coolest, biggest, strongest, most caring, smartest, wonderful daddy in the whole wide world.

And when i was wearing my Daddy's clothes, i'm pretty sure i thought that i was as cool as you.

If i look closely at that picture, i can also see that those two-year old hands look an awful lot like my Daddy's hands. And hands aren't the only thing i have in common with my father.

Party because we have so much in common, i eventually came to the painful conclusion that you aren't really the smartest or the biggest or the strongest of all the daddies.

But you proved to me that you are the coolest and the most caring and the most wonderful Daddy in the world...

...because you have always been proud of me, whether or not i ever did anything to be proud of....

...because you always loved me, even after i wasn't a lovable toddler in love with her daddy.....

...because you guided me to the One Who is the strongest and the smartest and the biggest ...

(This is when i got baptized.)

...because you have always been there for me for all the important stuff...

Daddy, i'm really really thankful for you.

Your love and your constancy in my life have demonstrated the love of our Father God to me.

Your passion has taught me to do what i believe with all of my heart.

Your courage has taught me not to count myself out.

And your oddity has taught me to let me be myself. (HEE HEE HEE!)

I love you, Dad!

Happy Father's Day!

I pray that God will bless you today and every day with great knowledge of Him, a deeper relationship with His Holy Spirit, a deeper understanding of His love for you, and peace so overwhelming you don't remember how to worry. Amen.

A Lesson In Reasoning

2011-06-15T06:17:00.000-05:00

Do you remember learning about inductive and deductive reasoning?

I remember learning these little examples in junior high school or some such. And it has occurred to me lately, that much of this country's troubles might be solved if folks could remember the difference between inductive and deductive reasoning.

Here's deductive reasoning.

All dogs have ears.
Spot is a dog.
Spot has ears.

Inductive reasoning:

All dogs have ears.
George has ears.
George must be a dog.

Clearly, George might be any number of things, but not necessarily a dog. This is such a basic lesson that we are taught at a pretty young age; yet it seems that the folks making decisions and giving advice in this country, don't know the difference.

Large scale example:

People who own homes have job stability.
Therefore, if we give people homes, they'll have job stability.
??

Perhaps we should consider that the job stability enabled the acquisition of the home and not the other way around.

The same thing happens with medical studies. The drawing of conclusions without nearly enough information.

These happen all the time.

For example: (i'm making this one up for the sake of exaggerated example)

Studies show that women who frequently sniff wild daisies at least 3 times per week are less likely to be overweight. Therefore, we conclude that keeping wild daisies in your home reduces the risk of obesity.

When perhaps we should consider that these daisy-sniffing beauties were probably taking a walk to get to the daisies.

I'm just sayin'.

Listen to the news today and see if you don't see an example of misplaced conclusions based on inductive reasoning. You probably will.

Proof

2011-06-14T05:56:00.000-05:00

1. Take some of these:

2. Slow bake in one of these:

2 again. Or better yet, give them to one of these:

3. Bake 3 weeks.

Yield: Living breathing life.

From the time the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky and all that God made. They can clearly see his invisible qualities -- his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse whatsoever for not knowing God. Romans 1:20

I have believed in God for most of my life. But if ever i should doubt, if ever i should waiver, when i see life form from what appears to be nothing. When i watch the average egg develop lungs and kidneys and learn to breathe and eat, i cannot fail to believe in God. Life was not an accident. Life is by design. Beautiful design. I am in awe.

Romalea microptera, the eastern lubber grasshopper

2011-06-12T00:13:00.000-05:00

Today, i was looking at some plants at my in-laws' house, and i saw this.

Isn't it beautiful!?

Cold Sloggy, just when you least expect it.

2011-06-08T21:04:00.000-05:00

I've told you about our Friday mornings.

About the comfort of going to the same local gas station for gas and coffee and gas station breakfast, early on Friday mornings.

Well, this morning, after four consecutive days of fun family festivities, some lasting too long into the night for me and my early morning work schedule, i decided to visit Stubby's for my favorite coffee. It's not really called Stubby's anymore. It was Stubby's when i was a kid. Stubby sold it to "in and out," which doesn't roll of the tongue as well, so it's still Stubby's to me.

Oh yeah, my favorite coffee.

My favorite coffee is one part Stubby's coffee, one part mocha cappuccino, from the handy-dandy gas station cappuccino machine.

Don't glaze over, people; this is important information.

Now, this combination can be made at many a gas station, but something about Stubby's - it tastes sooo good. No one else does it as well.

That was the prelude to my story.

Here i am, early in the morning, with not nearly enough sleep, driving to Stubby's, musing about the comfort of a familiar place. My gas station (yes i'm easy to please). It's a little out of the way, but it's worth a couple of miles. The gas is usually the lowest available price. I'm fairly sure that the owners aren't sending money to the heirs of bin Laden. The manager knows me by name. I think he's the only person i know who calls me, "Mrs. Rogers." They have the best coffee. They have friendly staff and manager. I even do my laundry there (they have a washateria). It's nice. I was having a big warm fuzzy all the three miles to the store (which probably isn't safe with as little sleep as i've had), and i had just inwardly given my gas station loyalty to Stubby's.

Then you won't believe what happened.

I walked in, all ready to have the best coffee ever - and buy the big cup so i could drink it all the way to work - when something looked different. What is it? I got my cup. Poured my coffee . . .

Then i found it.

The new cappuccino machine.

Unbelievable.

The NEW Cappuccino Machine!

I don't know why they don't love me anymore.

The NEW cappuccino machine dispenses only one flavor of cappuccino.

And it isn't mocha.

And even if it were mocha.

The NEW machine is out of order.

"Oh DREAD!" my heart shrieked, as my warm fuzzy turned to a big fat cold sloggy.

This isn't what i wanted at all!

Just the memory of the sight of that poor, pathetic, broken, without-potential, excuse for a cappuccino machine makes me feel a little sad and empty. And i don't even want coffee right now.

I told Matt, the manager, who knows what my coffee is made of, that i was not happy about this development. He ~~comforted~~ patronized me with news of forthcoming cappuccino powder packets. Stinkin' Matt!

Isn't new supposed to be BETTER?

Isn't it funny how the smallest imperfection in our imagined view of perfection can ruin the whole picture? Isn't it funny how it was only such a disappointment because i had built them up to so much more than a gas station ever meant to be?

Sloggy.

This has been a completely unspiritual, unfarmy post, just for the sake of writing down the word, sloggy, which is incidentally completely unrelated to the weird word, sloggy, which unexpectedly does have a legitimate definitely.

If you can trust thefreedictionary.com.

FULL

2011-06-04T17:59:00.000-05:00

Now that.

That is full.

I took this picture while visiting my family in Michigan a couple of months ago. We were having dinner at a local restaurant, and after i added my cream and sugar to this cup of coffee . . . well, it was too full to drink. I couldn't pick it up without spilling its contents. It was the epitome of full.

My pastor, Pastor Brian, from time to time, uses the word picture of a glass representing self. He talks about how if the only time you're spending time with God is when you come to church, then you're not going to have enough . . . stuff . . . peace, love, joy, good God stuff, in your "cup" to get you through the week. This is because, inevitably, by the time you make your way home from church on Sunday, someone will cut you off and make you slam on your brakes -- or the grocery store will be out of your favorite fried chicken that you were counting on for Sunday dinner -- or the grocery store will have your chicken, but the mid-adolescent expert on fried chicken behind the counter will use his gloved hand to wipe his nose right before he takes another customer's money and then comes over to grab your chicken with his gloved hands . . . or whatever. And then even though you will probably be all full of the love of God, since you just got out of church, and you probably won't cuss the guy who made you slam on your brakes -- or lose all your joy because dinner's going to have to be a pizza -- or forget to be gentle when you very kindly and lovingly ask that boy behind the counter to wash his hands and get some new gloves . . . or whatever . . . after happily and self-satisfactorily pay for your very sanitary fried chicken, who's to say that someone's shopping cart hasn't put a dent in the door of your freshly-washed-for-Sunday minivan? Who's to say? And then, getting back to Pastor Brian's metaphor now, is there any love left in your cup? Or is your cup now empty, having spent all its love on the fried chicken boy? What do you have now? You have a grumpy sanitary chicken Sunday dinner, with complaining potato salad on the side. That's what you have. Why? Because your cup was empty. (I love this metaphor, by the way. Sometimes, i can see my cup sloshing while i'm trying to pull out of the church parking lot.)

What's the remedy? The remedy is being sure to spend time with the Lord every day. Reading and studying His word and praising and worshiping Him and sharing your heart with Him and listening to Him every day. (Those of you who just moaned at this exceedingly predictable and boring answer, please continue reading.)

Because the idea is that your heart and soul and spirit and mouth should be as full of the love of Jesus as that coffee cup is full of coffee -- so full, that when someone bumps you (or cuts you off, or snots on your chicken), the love of God just spills out all over the place. And it just keeps spilling because your cup just keeps being filled. Even if you use up the whole cup by Tuesday morning, it's still being filled over and over again. And you just can't help loving everyone and everything around you.

Now, let's test this on reality.

This morning, i had a busy day ahead, and i took time to read my Bible and reflect this morning before leaving the house. While traveling down the road, i happily prayed and sang praise songs along with the radio. I was having a great start to my day.

There's a song on the radio that i really enjoy called "Hold Me." When this song comes on when i'm in my car, passersby may notice that the radio gets really loud, and i car dance and sing loud and groove to the music like a teenager, because i really enjoy this song. This morning, Hold Me came on the radio, just as i went to pull on to the freeway and saw multiple construction crews, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and no outlets left to let me escape from the madness. The happy jiving had already started, and my radio volume was already bumping my little car along, when all the happiness was interrupted by a loud and bad-attitude-filled, "Oh CRAP!"

Who said that? Oh, it was me. Mrs. Full Cup, just-got-done-praying-but-still-filling-the-air-with-some-ugly-"Christian cussing,"-Rogers. That's who. What's wrong with me? Here, God, with the ability to see traffic ahead of time, blesses my extended trip with my favorite song just in time, and i "crap" all over it. That's not right. What happened to my cup?

To be honest, i'm not sure. Maybe my cup is kept about a quarter full by my wrote good-Christian-habits, and that's only enough to help me be kind to my husband and keep me out of everyone's way when i'm grumpy. I don't know. Really, i don't. I don't have any special lesson for you. Just this - that my cup was full enough that i immediately checked my stinky attitude and remembered Who was riding with me. I still got to sort of enjoy the second half of my song. And the rest of my day did reflect that my cup wasn't truly empty. Maybe His grace is sufficient even when my cup has a momentary leak (or the bottom falls out of it unexpectedly). I'm still going to keep going to get full. 'Cause if my cup has a leak, i need to be extra full. Especially as much i drive.

Scintillating! And up-lifting too.

2011-06-02T20:12:00.000-05:00

Writing is so hard when you can't think of anything to say.

Well, i guess i can't speak for "you" exactly. But for me, it's hard.

I'm not sure where the line is drawn. When the switch gets flipped, and i just start following the day-to-day rut. It's not that bad. I mean, i haven't become a zombie. I'm doing fun things, like crocheting and hatching chicks and petting kittens and so forth.

But when i can't think of anything to write about, i know that something is wrong.

So i'm writing about not writing.

Scintillating. I know.

I think it might be the point at which i become more interested in the world in my head than in the world around me. That might be called self-centeredness. But don't tell me that; it might hurt my feelings.

Who am i kidding? You better tell me. I probably need to hear it.

There's a lie involved here. I've heard this lie before. It's the lie that says that i have nothing to share, so i may as well not share at all. But the truth is -- and this is not more self-centered-ness; this is recognition of God -- the truth is that when i (or you; i can speak for you in this case) believe that particular lie, we steal a gift from the world. God gave us our gifts so we could share them with others. And none of our gifts is the same as anyone else's. Someone needs our gifts. You might be surprised how many someones would benefit from your gifts. You have to put them out there. And just see what God will do with them.

To be more correct: God gave you as a gift to the world. And to shut off who you are is theft.

Just put yourself, you and your gifts, out there.

Hide and watch.

And be amazed.

Maybe a Little More Solemnity With All These Hot Dogs

2011-05-29T08:08:00.000-05:00

I like holidays.

I do.

I like seeing family and enjoying good food and the celebration of being alive and so forth and whatnot.

And i like it even more because i know that God likes celebration. Every time you turn around in the Bible, God is designating another holiday. He's cool like that.

Thing is, i think we do too much celebrating and not enough consideration of why we're celebrating.

God's model for celebration often starts with fasting -- then feasting. The fasting time, for getting your heart in the right place and realizing what it is you celebrate, and so on.

I find it interesting that the two American holidays which mark the deaths of those who gave their lives for our freedom, are taken the most casually, often with hamburgers and hot dogs and swimming pools, but rarely with any consideration for what it is we often fail to hold dear. Our freedom.

I heard a speech by a man i'd never heard of, this week. His name is Dennis Prager. He is a Jewish man, who is an American and a scholar and a radio host and a lot of other things. I had never paid any attention to him before, but i happened to hear this speech, and i became at least a tentative fan. Anyway, in his speech, he mentioned how he thought that Americans should treat Independence Day kind of like Jews treat Passover. They are both a celebration of the gift of freedom. But at Passover, time is taken to remember the suffering of those who did not have that freedom - and how they were delivered. This information and tradition is passed from generation to generation, and has been for thousands of years, so the children don't forget.

Sadly, when Americans celebrate their freedom, they usually just grill meat and sink a lot of money into fireworks. Their children have very little notion what this is all about. They especially have very little notion of what it was like for those who did not have our freedoms. And thus, less than 250 years after the fact, our population seems to not hold our freedom so dear. I would like to think of a way to bring a little more solemnity to our celebrations of freedom. I'm not sure how yet. I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas and traditions.

I thank God for the thousands who gave their lives, thinking of me. Believing that freedom for their country outweighed the value of their individual lives, thousands and thousands of men and women have died to invest in the freedom of you and me. Thank you to every soldier and every American who gave and who gives to preserve liberty. Thank you to every one who has lost a loved one to the cause of freedom.

A Happy and Solemn and Peaceful Memorial Day to you.

Not So Silly

2011-05-24T05:57:00.002-05:00

The news stinks lately, doesn't it?

It seems like pretty much every other day, there is a report of some horrible disaster, seemingly ruining the lives of hundreds or thousands of people, and those reports seem to be closer to home lately. It's really too much to comment on, or i would be posting every ten minutes about the newest news item.

It might be easy to think, for some, that God's not paying any attention.

Recently, i've wondered if God was ignoring me when i asked for things completely unrelated to floods or tornadoes. Just personal stuff.

Then i had an unusual reminder that He's listening to every little thing.

This is going to seem like i'm side-tracking, but i'm not.

When i was a little girl, i recall having board-straight hair. With the exception of a very unfortunate cow-lick in the off-centered middle of my forehead, not a wave in sight. Neither a wave to be found in my family gene pool that i could see. But still, as a teenager, i prayed for curls.

Silly, right?

Maybe.

I remember somewhere around my senior year in high school/freshman year in college, noticing one lone hint of a ringlet and thanking God for answering my prayer.

Fast forward 15-20 years.

On Sunday, a beautiful friend at church complimented my hair, noticing the curls/waves that are easily accentuated by my new hair cut. During the course of our conversation, i mentioned what i'd nearly forgotten over all the years. I told her how i'd prayed for curls.

God often uses my own words to remind me of Himself, and somehow, all these years later, all these hard-to-control, often frizzy, thankful waves on my head, are reminding me. They're like a message straight from Heaven.

"I am too listening What's that on your head?!"

Isn't that silly? Maybe. But my faith is re-encouraged. The knowledge that even though our prayers are not generally answered exactly the way we think they will be, He's always listening. Our time frames are generally not in sync either. But He's listening and answering and caring.

He weeps with us when we have sorrow. He rejoices with us when we are glad. And He listens to the smallest request. Even the vain request of teenager, asked in faith, He can turn around to be a reminder of His faithfulness in all the areas that matter so much more.

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you.
1 Peter 5:6-7

2011-05-24T05:57:00.000-05:00

A Good Case of the Mondays

2011-05-23T05:59:00.000-05:00

This weekend, i re-homed my beloved rooster, Rocky; i brought home my new beloved kitten, Columbo; and i started a new batch of chicks in the incubator.

I'm exhausted, and speed does not come easily, this early Monday morning.

But i find it so much easier to cope with the Monday morning exhaustion when my weekend was well-spent.

Happy Monday! and Hallelujah!

Cuddly Addition

2011-05-22T22:20:00.000-05:00

When i was a girl, i oft had a cat for a pet.

Cats and i get along pretty well.

During the beginning of my marriage, when sometimes it was rocky, i would go to the local pet store and pet kittens for therapy.

Lately, in the absence of a cat on the homestead, i've been wanting one. It has been more than a year since our Stanley disappeared, and i have been wanting a kitty. Just for having sweetness around. So i started looking and found a potential kitten not too far from our house.

I brought him home yesterday afternoon and named him Columbo. 'Cause that's a good name for a cat.

Initially, Columbo was afraid of every movement and every noise and would hide from us and cry and be a very unsociable kitty.

But then, possibly by divine inspiration, we helped him associate canned herring with us, and he has become a much more cuddly kitty. It's amazing what transformations can be made through the appetite.

Columbo has taken up residence in our bathtub. Apparently, he lived in a bathroom previous to now. And we go and get him for cuddling, and then he goes back and goes to sleep in our bathtub.

I'll have to be sure to remember Columbo before i turn on the shower in the morning.

Inspirational Thoughts Very Early in the Morning

2011-05-19T06:17:00.000-05:00

When i was a little girl, i remember seeing on tv - or having general knowledge - about little children in different areas of the world, where there was not enough food and/or there was little food coupled with communist rule. Or whatever horrible plight.

I understood that my spirit was not defined by my body, and i often wondered why my spirit got to be born into this body and in this time, a body that lives in the United States, that gets plenty to eat, that has kind loving parents, that doesn't get beaten or abused by Nazis or Communists or Fascists, or whathaveyou. I remember often thanking God for allowing me to have such a horror-free life. I probably didn't say it exactly that way when i was six, but nonetheless. . .

This morning, while i was preparing my breakfast and taking those first luxurious sips of my freshly brewed coffee, i thanked God and then wondered again. Why me? Why do i get to have it so good? When so very many have it such a very difficult life.

Immediately, the scripture came to mind, "to whom much is given, much is required." That scripture is Luke 12:48, and the parable that goes with it has always confused me a little. Maybe because i don't entirely understand the customs it refers to - or because i don't fully understand God's ways.

But i think it applies to us somehow.

Today i will listen and try to discover how i can use the advantages i have been given, through no credit to myself, to benefit others. It's easy to see our own struggles - or to make comparisons to others who have it even better than ourselves (or so we think), and to forget how very much we really have, and to discount what we do have to give. If you are a resident of the United States, even if you're the poorest resident of the United States, you are richer (monetarily) than at least 80% of the world's population. You have advantages and privileges and resources that most humans never imagine. And so do i.

May we be mindful that every one person everywhere has something to give - and may we give it cheerfully. And may we not waste our privileged position.

Eye Candy for Gardeners

2011-05-17T05:52:00.000-05:00

This is me. Bragging on my awesome husband, who has set out to grow tomatoes in Texas. What's the big deal? You've grown tomatoes in Texas? Well, we haven't. And not too many have. And we're pretty proud. Isn't she beautiful??!!!!

Earlier in the year, my Hoe-slingin' super gardener, invested in multiple varieties of tomatoes that were bred and/or touted to grow well i our area, where the sun is hot, and the rain will either wash you away or not come at all. We have lots of different tomato plants. I'm sure you'll get to see them later in the summer, but this one is the most impressive - an early producer, and i thought i'd share.

Incidentally, i have no idea what kind of tomato it is, but if you're interested, i'll try to find out.

We already have one beautiful red tomato on our counter, waiting to be devoured, and it smells SO good.

O.k., enough bragging for now.

Over and out.

Adventures in Homemade Laundry Soap

2011-05-14T13:33:00.000-05:00

When i was visiting my parents last month, i took home a whole lot o' loot. So much loot, that i couldn't take it home, and my parents had to box it up and mail it to me. It was great. Among said loot, my mother sent me the ingredients to make 2 gallons of homemade laundry soap, a project i've been fantasizing over for months and possible year + months, but never got the ingredients and the plan together to make it happen. My mom's awesome, so she measured out the ingredients for me, placed them in a plastic bag with the directions, and gave them to me. Moms are awesome.

I've read where lots of people wrote about their triumphs in making laundry soap - but never so much about the parts that confused them. That's where i come in. This simple process confused me a bit and had some complications i've not heard about in the past. So i'll share it with you, and maybe you'll decide to make your own laundry soap too. Or not. Whichever.

Here is the recipe and instructions i followed:

Ingredients:
3 pints water
1/3 bar Fels Naptha Soap, grated
1/2 cup washing soda (Arm and Hammer, NOT baking soda!)
1/2 cup 20 Mule Team Borax
2 Gallon bucket to mix it in
1 Quart hot water HOT WATER

Instructions:
Mix Fels Naptha soap in a sauce pan with 3 pints hot water and heat on low until dissolved. Stir in washing soda and borax. Stir until thickened, and remove from heat. Add 1 quart hot water to 2 gallon bucket. Add soap mixture and mix well. Fill bucket completely with additional hot water, and mix well. Set aside for 24 hours, or until mixture thickens. You may add additional HOT water if the mixture becomes too thick. Mix well before each use. Use 1/2 cup of mixture per load. Makes 64 loads. Cost per load, 3 cents.

O.k. let's get started.

Step one: grate a third of a bar of Fels Naptha Soap. Fels Naptha Soap is . . . well, it's a bar of soap. It's yellow, and it smells like the strongest bar of Dial you've ever sniffed. Oh, and it does this to your cheese grater.

Thankfully, it IS soap after all. So it's not too too hard to wash off. Use plenty of hot water. Oh, grating the soap. It's not like grating cheese. It takes a while. And i only did 1/3 of a bar. So if you're going for the big 5 gallon bucket, hopefully you have some eager children to enlist, so you don't wear yourself out.

Next step: dissolving the grated soap in hot water. I put the specified 3 pints of water in my stock pot and heated it on low while i was grating said soap, so when i was done, the water was near boiling. Then i just poured in the grated soap, like you would. I grated mine pretty fine, so it dissolved pretty quickly.

The next next step is to pour in all the powdered stuff your mama measured out for you. And stir.

Until it thickens.

Problem is, it doesn't give you any hint how long it will take to thicken or how much it will thicken or how you will know when it has thickened enough, etc., etc.

I cooked it for a long time, and stirred and stirred and stirred, and it still looked pretty much like thin chicken broth. But with a lot of foam on top.

I googled about it for a while and found someone else whose soap didn't thicken, who said that it didn't seem to matter. So i went with that.

Does anyone have any insight on this thickening business???

Next, you need a container. I have a hard time finding 5 gallon buckets with lids, but i did find this "utility bucket" at the Family Dollar. It holds about six gallons, and it has a lid.

Then, i poured my soap soup into my utility bucket and added more hot water, until it was as much as they said. Kind of looks like somebody peed in it, but they didn't.

I waited 24 hours, and i don't have a picture, but it kind of separated like grease and water. And it looked like the "grease" part might have solidified. Happily it did not solidify; it jellified more, and i was easily able to stir it up.

I'm still using up my inferior, store-bought laundry soap, so i haven't used this concoction yet. But i'm using extra store-bought detergent on my clothes so as to get to the good stuff sooner.

Extra Info:

* to an olfactorily impaired person, such as myself, boiling soap just smells clean. To olfactorily-sensitive folks, they might want to leave the house for a long time until the attack of their senses is over.

*the reason this recipe says "HOT" water so many times is because if you put cold water on this stuff, it sort of solidifies. Don't ask how i know. Just use hot water.

*my mama included marbles in my soap-making kit to put in the bottom of the bottle (once my soap is in a bottle) to aid in shaking up the mixture before each use. She's smart like that, so you should do it too.

A Case of the Mondays

2011-05-13T18:26:00.000-05:00

(Dear Readers, i wrote this post yesterday evening, while blogger was doing a one hour update that ended up taking the entire night and threatened to steal away our most recent blog entries. But it didn't, and everything is now back to normal - so far as the eye can see - and now you can read what i meant to write last night. Weird, i know.)

This week.

Whew.

It has been Monday all week long.

And i am so glad that Friday is only a sleep away.

On Friday mornings, my hubby and i have this unplanned tradition that i am coming to cherish. Every Friday morning, one of us gets paid, and every Friday morning, both of us need gas in our vehicles. So every Friday morning, we get up extra early and go to the gas station together, fill up two vehicles, and buy a gas station breakfast and coffee. And then we drive away to our separate work places.

I don’t know why i like that so much.

Maybe it’s the gassing up.

Maybe it’s the good coffee they sell at this particular gas station.

Maybe it’s probably enjoying a few moments of togetherness with my cherished husband. There are too few of those these days. It’s a break from the busy-ness.

And a saran-wrapped bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit.

It’s a break from the Mondays.

Depression Relief

2011-05-11T18:19:00.000-05:00

This morning on the radio, the d.j.'s on the local-ish Christian radio station, KSBJ, were discussing a newly dubbed condition (dubbed by whom, i don't know), called "Facebook Depression." Reportedly, Facebook Depression is a result of person reading about other people's lives on Facebook (or, i assume, blogs and other places) and getting the impression that everyone's lives are beautiful and perfect except their own. This is reportedly because too many people hide the ugly truth of their normal lives by posting status updates, etc., about only the good and wonderful.

This discussion made me think about you, the wonderful humans who check in at this address day by day and week by week to read the blathering business i write. So i said to myself, "self, what if you're just too positive?" And then i decided i better provide some depression relief for you right away.

Here goes . . .

The dirty truth . . .

1. I did laundry on Sunday night, but i didn't fold it. I just crammed it all in a laundry bag and left it there until yesterday evening. Then, i just crammed all the laundry items in their appropriate places, still without folding. I was just way too tired.

2. Sometimes, especially this past weekend, my husband and i argue about the absolutely stupidest things, and then we're mad, and then we don't talk to each other, and then we forget what we were mad about and we get over it.

3. At the end of the day, my gorgeous hair cut doesn't necessarily look that great. I think it's because i don't use as much hairspray as my hairdresser did.

4. My kitchen got so dirty over the weekend that the flies in this house were reminiscent of the plague. You know the one with Moses and Pharoah and whatnot?

4 1/2. Even after cleaning the kitchen, there remains about 2 cups of last week's coffee in my coffee pot, slowly turning white.

5. This morning, after i finally got my computer into some level of cooperative order, i woke up my husband from a dead sleep to get him to take a picture of my hair, you know, right after i fixed it, and he was nice enough to get up and try, but the camera malfunctioned and then died. So here's all i can offer you at this time:

Got a little lazy eye goin' on there or somethin'.

Hope i relieved your depression a little.

Just remember, nobody's perfect 'cept Jesus, and He thought all us imperfect folks were important and valuable and beautiful enough that He died for us. That should cheer you up the most!

A Poem For You

2011-05-10T12:05:00.000-05:00

There was a young woman from Texas

Who got a haircut in the city

Her friends wanted pictures

And left her lots of messages

But her computer became sick, reportedly.

This poem doesn't rhyme a little

But i hope you get the message completely

I love you a lot

But my computer is shot

It is getting first aid sort of immediately.

When it is better,

We'll talk, and we'll chatter,

And i'll tell you how i made soap with lots of lather.

My time is now gone.

I must travel on

And do my work so that they will pay me

But hopefully not with bon bons.

(See what i did there?)

This poem is getting worse by the stanza

So i'll go now, understandya?

I like Edna.

2011-05-09T06:35:00.000-05:00

Warning, this is a frufru post about non-farming topics.

"I've been studyin' on this for a long time." is what i told the hair dresser on Saturday. And it's true.

While i was not working away from the home, but instead only with the chickens and the rabbits and the dying fruit trees, i just let my hair grow and grow and grow. And by the time i returned to work, it was that length just past regular long hair that makes people say, "Wow. Your hair is really getting LONG."

I learned a long time ago that God made my hair for the messy look. There simply isn't any way around it. But when my hair got long and heavy, i thought . . . i dreamed for a moment that i could mousse it or serum (read, oil) it down and have lovely long smooth non-messy hair.

But it simply isn't to be.

And i've been studying. Really.

I made note cards.

Well, i made note card.

I read about what kind of haircut looks good on a . . .

. . . round face
. . . giant forehead
. . . double chin
. . . gargantuan head
. . . .messy wavy hair
. . . .fat people

I evaluated, i considered, i dreamed, and i wrote it all down.

But then there was the finding a hair dresser.

My friend, who cut my hair last and whose work i loved quit the business shortly after she cut my hair. And she SAID that i could come to her house, and she's so sweet, but i just don't plan ahead well enough for all that, and i don't want to impose on her weekend in her house, and blah blah blah . . .
So, this weekend, i finally kind of had it with my hair. I was finally ready to give up those long crazy locks, and my hubby was ready to help find someplace, so we did what anyone would do in our situation. We had lunch at Taco Bell and asked the ladies there to recommend a hair salon nearby.

Because everyone knows that if you want to find women with really nicely cut and styled hair, you'll find them Taco Bell.

Thankfully, even though what i just said is completely false, one lady mentioned a place very close by called, "Edna's." And based on that information alone, i said to my husband, "i like Edna." And we went. (Like i said, sometimes i'm not so good with the planning.)

Have you seen the movie, Steel Magnolias?

Well, it wasn't quite Dolly Parton's salon there, but it had that air. I was more relaxed than i think i have ever been while getting a hair cut, and it was a delightful experience. And my hair, if i say so myself, looks pretty cute. And all the studying paid off. And my hair stylist lady, whose name is not Edna, listened to me and did what i said, and gave me helpful professional input, and was delightful and wonderful.

And while this post wasn't meant to be a plug for Edna's, it's in Livingston, next to the Sonic. Wash and cut is $18.

And now i have to take my gorgeous new hair to work.

Mother's Love

2011-05-08T04:30:00.001-05:00

Recently, at Easter weekend, 21 little chicks hatched at my house. The person we were hatching them for had asked for 20 chicks. And chick #21 was looking pretty pathetic. I didn't want to deliver a happy holiday chick that would quickly die, so i kept the chick at home and delivered what first aid i could. I hoped for the best, but was prepared to find an expired chick when i returned home. To my delight, when we returned home, after a very long Easter Sunday, celebrating with family, this little chick was wide awake, well-rested, and ready to hit the road, with a serious pair of lungs, by the way.

So, i gave this lonely little chick to my recently bereaved broody hen, and she welcomed this chick with open wings. I have very much enjoyed watching the two of them over the past couple of weeks. Mother hen protects this single chick like it was the greatest treasure on earth, and she spends every waking moment teaching it to find food and be a chicken.

I took some pictures for your enjoyment. I've been saving them for Mother's Day because they remind me of me and my mom . . . since i'm an only child too. And i have a really good mom too. And i love her a lot.

I think the last picture is my favorite. Do you see that little indention in the mother's feathers, right in the middle of her breast? That's where the tiny chick just snuggled in for some warmth and rest and comfort. The most beautiful picture of them all.

You probably don't have to think too hard to stretch this hen-chick/mother-daughter imagery to a picture of the love of God. So i'll add this scripture to go with the pictures above.

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. ~Psalms 91:1

Happy Mother's Day to all of you -

and especially to mine. <3

Esther

2011-04-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

My friend Kris, wrote a post some day recently about Honor. And then she asked her readers to share a time when they witnessed honorable action, the display of integrity. Well, i've had this thought for a post in my idea book for severalish weeks now, so i thought i would share it. And it will double as a response to Kris' request for stories about Honor.

The names and details in the following story may be changed to protect anonymity.

I work in the District Clerk's office of some random Texan county. The District Clerk has many duties, and among these duties is the responsibility to collect money (fines, fees, court costs) from convicted felons. Generally, as i understand it, these felons, who are either released from prison or on probation, or some such situation of trying to hopefully get their lives in order, are placed often on a payment plan which requires them to come to our office on a regular basis to make their payments.

When these folks come in to make their payments, they most often make them to a beautiful, white-haired cashier, who we'll call Esther. My desk is within earshot of Esther's place at the front counter, and i am often able to overhear the conversations she has with her customers. The thing that struck me immediately is that all the recovering felons know her by her first name. And they sound happy to see her. They ask her about her children and her husband . . . how he's doing, since they remember he was maybe not feeling so good the last time they were in. . .

A question mark rose up in my head, which keeps me listening to Esther's conversations.

Here's the remarkable thing i noticed. These regular folks, who happen to be paying fees for really big mistakes they've made, are just regular people to Esther. She doesn't talk to them differently because they've messed up. She doesn't appear to be afraid of them. In fact, they way she speaks to them, i expect that Esther could easily bring the biggest, angriest, ill-intented felon to smiles and hugs in a matter of minutes.

Now don't get me wrong, Esther's not in danger. There are bars protecting her and the money from any random stranger who walks in our office. But her words and her manner are kind. Always kind. No matter whom she speaks to.

This is a display of her honor to me. She does not judge these people. She speaks to them and converses with them with the same warmness she speaks to any of her co-workers, and i suspect the cashier at the grocery store and her favorite grandchild, alike. Her kindness is generous and available to anyone. Over and over, i have heard one of these folks eagerly announce to Esther how close they were to paying off their fees -- or, "this is my last payment!" And then i've heard her encourage them and congratulate them with every bit of the sincerity she might use when congratulating her grandson for winning a baseball game, or . . . well, you get the point. She doesn't make people pay daily penalties of shame. She lifts them up. I think she's part of the rehab program - but in disguise. People LIKE to bring her their money because she makes it such a pleasant experience for them.

Treating people with love and kindness, no matter what dirty secret you know or suspect about them. I admit that i don't know myself to be as open and fair as Esther. But she has shown me what it looks like, so i will aspire to it.

There's a really great scripture that goes with this story - about not seating the poor man on the floor and the rich man at the head of the table -- or something to that effect. I can't lay my finger on it right now, but i think Esther read that scripture and took it to heart.

After all, God looks at the heart, and i'm not sure He makes too much distinction between hateful words, felonies, and misdemeanors. And He loves us all the same.

Happy Belated Pensive Saturday

2011-04-26T06:01:00.000-05:00

Dear Readers,

On Saturday, i attempted to post to this blog from the washateria on my phone. But alas, my post is lost in the interwebs. It appeared nowhere, so apparently, i did something wrong. Please accept my apologies.

I hope you won't be disappointed if we review our most recent holiday a little more. I really wanted to share with you a post that my friend, Angela, wrote on Good Friday. It really touched me, and it's just beautiful, and i think everyone should read it.

Good, Good, Friday <----click over there

On Resurrection Day, i got to celebrate the Passover Seder with family (which, for anyone who wonders, has everything to do with Jesus), and it was a blessing.

I've never heard what the name for the Saturday between Good Friday and Resurrection morning is, so i called it Pensive Saturday (that's the day i was trying to post from the laundromat). So happy belated Pensive Saturday, everybody! And have a wonderful Tuesday too!

Why it wouldn't be so bad to be like Dad

2011-04-21T06:00:00.000-05:00

Here's a little dad appreciation a little earlier in the year than normal.

Growing up, my house was different than a lot of families i've heard about. My mom and i . . . i can't remember a single argument between us. We've always gotten along pretty good. But Dad and i . . . well, we can argue the same point to each other and both leave crying. Thus my high school years, especially, included more than enough yelling, probably invited by my own teenage hot-headedness.

Since i left home, i noticed that visits are best if not TOO long. After we get over being happy to see each other, we can start to argue and hurt each others' feelings over nothing at all. It's silly really, but true. And almost every time, i can hear my mother's words, "You guys are just too much alike!" or "You're both saying the same thing!" These are words that a daughter who's presently upset with her dad might not want to hear.

But adulthood and distance brings new perspective. This last visit with my parents was especially nice, and it ended much too soon. I've been thinking about it this week, and while i don't think that i really am all that much like my dad (except in the ways that make it easy to argue), it wouldn't be so bad to be like Dad. My dad pastors a small church in cold and snowy Michigan, and i got to see him in action last week. It was really beautiful.

Daddy loves people. A lot better than i do. It just all kind of spills out of him, and kids, especially, feel it. All the church kids run to their pastor for a big hug every time they see him. And he LOVES that!

Everybody who knows Dad knows that he cries a lot. It's one of the things that makes it fun to do nice things for him. If you can make him cry, you know he liked it. Now, you might not think this is a good trait. But it is the result of a soft heart, one that cares very much about the people around him. And he allows himself to stay soft and tender, even though the lack of pretense and facades often leaves him teary.

Dad is sincere and passionate. That passionate bit is why we argue. When he believes in something, he stands for it, a trait that is rare these days. The passion to work hard to affect the world is priceless, and it has left a trail of people all over this country, who have been positively changed because of Dad's passion and commitment to serving God.

Dad gives great hugs. That speaks for itself.

Dad loves. I think that's called being like Christ. Isn't it?

This is why i think it wouldn't be so bad to be like Dad.

Daddy, i think that by the time you got over the shock of the big surprise, last week, the week was almost over, and we didn't get to spend the time together that we might have planned in other circumstances. So i just wanted you to know how much i love and admire you. You are a beautiful beautiful result of God's love and grace, and i treasure you. Don't worry. Even though we don't get to see each other much here, we'll have plenty of time "in the air." Thanks for doing the work and following the calling of God. I love you.

About All that Wisdom

2011-04-20T06:00:00.000-05:00

I've been reading the book of Proverbs lately.

In the past, i've kind of plowed through that book of the Bible, enjoying its simple two line bits of wisdom, and moving on quickly. This time, however, i have been taking more time to mull over the concepts and themes presented and so on.

And it occurred to me . . .

The Bible says that when Solomon (the writer of the Proverbs) asked for wisdom, God granted his request and said that there had been no one like him before, and would be no one like him after (I Kings 3:12). I think when we read this, we assume that God meant that no one had ever been or would ever be as wise as Solomon. At least that's the assumption i was working from that led to this post.

The irony is that Solomon, presumably the wisest man on earth, did some truly troubling and unwise things in his life. But why? Why Solomon? How could you be the wisest man, the favored king, and still make such nutty decisions?

I have often heard it said that knowledge is the information, but wisdom is knowing how and when to use it. Or something to that effect.

Well, i think that all the folks touting that tidbit of clarification should add a third line: Humility is the key that makes wisdom useful.

It occurred to me that wisdom becomes useless when pride gets in the way.

Back to Solomon . . .

After being honored by God and appointed to be the king to build the temple for God to live in (an honor that King David was denied), after being blessed by God in amazing ways that were rumored all over the known world of that day, so much that foreign royalty would come to him to gaze on his riches and hear his wonderful wisdom, and would give him MORE riches just for being so awesome -- after all of these blessings, I Kings 11 records that Solomon decided to chase foreign women and worship false gods, a situation that God had specifically warned him about in verse 2. But Solomon "followed his heart" and consequently, the tribes of Israel were split, the kingdom divided, and David's legacy . . . disturbed, to say the least.

It doesn't really say, but i surmise that Solomon started to inwardly take credit for the gift of wisdom God had given him. He got wise in his own eyes. That's the key to foolishness. Solomon didn't say so, but i will. No matter the knowledge or the wisdom you acquire in your days, pride will obliterate it all, if you don't guard your heart. Pride blinds us and whispers lies in our ears about how wonderful we are and how smart we are, how much smarter than God we are, and it gets us in big big trouble, regardless of all the knowledge and wisdom we have previously gained..

Humility is the key to useful wisdom. Maybe that's the biggest lesson we should learn from Solomon.

Wait, he said it, didn't he? Maybe the most often quoted proverb of all: "Pride goes before a fall."

One?

2011-04-19T05:46:00.000-05:00

Here is a topic that has been tumbling about in my head for a goodly number of days, every since my friend, Jess, wrote this blog entry about marriage, "Kiss Dating Hello." I thought about excerpting it here, but you really just need to read it. Read the comments too. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Finished?

O.k., good, now we can go on. Before i get started, please let me say that Jess is my friend, and this discussion is simply that. There is no ill will. I just think this is a topic worth discussing.

Is there only ONE person on this earth for you, in God's perfect will? Should you agonize over your mate, or just pick a good candidate and get it over with?

My friend, Kris, commented on Jess' post about how Christian circles tend not to bring up the possibility that God might have a life of singleness, fully devoted to HIM, in mind for you life, a subject that the apostle, Paul, did bring up. I think this is an excellent point. EXCELLENT point.

Here's my take on the whole thing, after days of tumbling it about in my head, i come to one thing.

The person you marry, if you do marry, will affect your life, and probably every decision in your life, for the rest of your life. Even if everything goes horribly wrong, and you are forced to be split apart from this person, you will have been deeply affected, for life. I think that this is the one decision that you should belabor endlessly, until you are so sure that you are in the will of God, that you can't deny it. Until you're so sure, that you are sure that you'll be sinning if you don't marry this person. Really sure.

Here's a little more of why: sometimes marriage stinks. No matter how good your marriage is, and i have a pretty stinking good one, sometimes marriage stinks. It's just the truth; ask any married person. If you have married, and you are unsure about whether you were in God's will, when things aren't as pleasant as you think they ought to be, you will question yourself. Did i marry the wrong person? Don't ever allow that. If you know that you know, from the beginning, then you'll know that God knew all the stinky parts of your marriage from the beginning. And you can walk through them to all the flowery parts.

If you have read this far in this post, and you are not someone who considers "God's will for your life" something to be considered, i have no advice for you. I have no idea how anyone's marriage is successful without God.

I knew my husband for ten years before i married him. And even then, it took two dreams and a vision, and a lot of prayer, to convince me that i should marry. And when i did marry him, i knew that i was doing what God wanted. I had complete peace ( i don't believe in cold feet ). I knew that i knew. And i know that i know, even when it stinks, that i was made for him, and him for me. And i don't think anyone should do it any other way.

That's just my take on it. I would love to read your opinions and thoughts on it.

Ready. Set. WRASSLE.

Sorry about spring and whatnot

2011-04-18T05:31:00.000-05:00

Back home in Texas.

Aaaaah, Texas.

Every time i come back to Texas, i can feel it in the air. It's true. If you're from here, you know.

Anyway, i had a great time with my family in Michigan -- sorry about the non-blogging, but there was important time to be spent with live humans. Also, my apologies to all Michiganders, Michigonians, and Michiganites, if i messed up your weather. When i arrived in my parents' small town, the lake by which they live thawed overnight. The church people said i brought spring to them. Sadly, the day i arrived back in Texas, it snowed again in that little town. So sorry, y'all; i meant to leave some spring behind for you.

Here at home, the trees have leaves, the pollen is rampant, and the air conditioner is on. It's definitely spring in Texas. And i'm happy to be home with my darling, gun-slingin', hoe-slingin', beautiful husband, hero fella. We had Mexican food yesterday, to celebrate being Texan, and then we cleaned the house. I'm back to work today, and i'll have to say more meaningful things on this blog on another day.

To come: gardening pictures, priceless memories about old people, and wrassling discussions about marriage and other serious issues. Stay tuned.

Another important day to remember

2011-04-14T06:30:00.001-05:00

If you have been reading this blog for very long, you have probably read (or possibly, by way of poor judgment, chose not to read) about my Mormor. That's Swedish for Meemaw, Nana, Granny, and Grandma, for all you Americans out there.

As an update, Mormor is almost 93 years old, and she has Dementia, a disease similar to Alzheimer's, and in Mormor's case, she remembers being a young woman in Sweden, but she doesn't remember much about what's happening right now. She also, from time to time, tries to go back "home" to Sweden and all her little babies, by means of walking, so for her safety, she had to go live in a long term care, type home, where she could be kept safe. Thankfully, it's about the best home ever, and she seems happy there.

The point of all this is that we got to go visit Mormor yesterday, and that is definitely one of the major highlights of my trip. Here i am with Mormor and Morfar.

I wanted to bring Mormor a gift, and thought about it and decided that even though she will probably not remember who i am, or that i was there to see her, she will still like the same things and appreciate something nice. So, i made her some slippers.

Before we left, it was arranged that all of us could sit around a big round dining room table, in a private room, and we had lunch together like a family. There was even a big fat cat in the room, begging for food. Definitely a big highlight. We felt like family, 'cause we are.

And now for the extra sappy part: i've always heard about older folks, who get dementia or alzheimer's or general senility, and they lose their inhibitions. For some, this results in horrible outbursts of profanities and other things the grandchildren shouldn't be hearing, and the children never dreamed could come from their sweet little mama's mouth, etc., etc.

Mormor never did all that. Is it the result of a pure heart? I don't know, but i like to think so. And i like to hope and pray and strive, that my heart would be so pure, and thoroughly worked over by God, that if i were to lose all my inhibitions and sense about what is and isn't o.k. to do in front of other people, and my mouth just told everything in my head at the time, that my words would still be pure and my manners, gentle and kind, like Mormor's

Thank God for Mormor.

how much more

2011-04-10T23:08:00.000-05:00

Today, i had the honor of being the subject of a surprise gift to my parents . . . my presence to surprise them on a special day. I may say more about that later . . . and maybe not. But this is the important part:

I haven't seen my parents in almost 3 years, though i think our relationships with each other have grown stronger - and thus our missing each other heavier.

Everyone involved in my surprise appearance in my parents' church on Sunday morning expected there would be tears and happy exclamation and whatnot. Even i didn't anticipate quite the emotional welcome i received.

I had spent the previous days worrying with how to pack and what to wear to church on Sunday and whether the people here would like me o.k. and whether i was wearing too much make-up, or whether i'm just way too fat to be liked or if. . . BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Have you ever read the story of the Prodigal son in Luke 15? Let me cut it short for you:

Old man has two sons; young stupid son demands his inheritance, runs off to Vegas, blows all the money on entirely stupid ventures, ends up sharing food with poorly fed swine, and finally decides to go back to his father and beg to be allowed to be one of his father's servants so that he can at least get better food. Here's the last line of the actual scripture, in which, by the way, Vegas is not actually mentioned:

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Unlike the prodigal son in this story, i did not go away and squander the inheritance or buy prostitutes in Vegas or other ridiculous nonsense. I was simply missed. Like the prodigal son, however, i was thinking ridiculous things, reasons i might not be accepted by my family, who had given me no reason to think that they would ever do anything but accept me and love me totally, no matter what. Here's my real-life version of my part of the verse i just shared above.

But while she was still at the back of the church, her parents recognized her, saw no one but else her, as they charged to where she was standing. When they found her, they fell upon her with hugs and with kisses, with tears and with joy, and with disbelief, and would not let go for about ten minutes.

Now, let's get deep for a minute. Can you handle it?

I am aware enough to know that a sad and large percentage of the humans on the earth were not parented by people who did a very good job of demonstrating unconditional love to their children. I know this, and the comparison i'm about to make still works for all those people, so keep reading.

My parents have done an excellent job, as humans go, at showing me the love of God in my lifetime -- of demonstrating to me some comparison of the unconditional love of God. But even then, since we're all human, and i know my parents, i know that they're are flawed. And i mean FLAWED (this is the part of the post where i keep them from letting my accolades give them a big head). What i'm saying is that my parents are human beings on the planet Earth, where we are all FLAWED.

So i was thinking about the prodigal son again. When Jesus told this story, He was making a comparison to the love of the Father God to all those who have forgotten about His love and His provision and have run off to Vegas to gamble and buy prostitutes. (Again, there's no actual Vegas in the Bible, but the principle stands.) It's about how the son thought that there was no way that the father would ever allow him to be part of his family again. He wasn't worthy. He had dishonored his father and his family in shameful and unmentionable ways. There was no reason for the father in this story to ever allow this son to even be in his presence.

But these thoughts were absolutely ludicrous to the father, just as they are to the Father. His love is unconditional. That means it is freely given, withOUT conditions. It was the son's decision to return home that brought about the reunion. It was the son's running away that caused the separation. It was the son's choice. The father loved him through all of it, but the father could not force the son to stay home where the food is good and love abounds. The son had to choose to return to abundance.

Now back to me.

My parents were REALLY happy to see me. It was a little like i had been lost at sea or something.

Anyway, i'm getting to a point here. I know that my dad, specifically, is known to be a little on the emotional side (people love to do cool stuff for him 'cause it makes him cry tears of joy and get all verklempt). But listen - or read, whatever. If my dad and mom could love me so much that they respond to my presence with such great emotion. If people could buy the story about the earthly dad loving his son (like, the worst son ever) enough to welcome him home with kissess and hugs and a multi-day feast. Then, to quote Jesus, "how much more," must the Father, God, be eager and ready to run to any of us who choose to live in His house. It turns out that He just doesn't care what we're wearing, or how fat we are, or where we've been, or how incredibly stupid we are . . . He's just so glad that we decided to come home!

Self-Mashed Yummy Potatoes

2011-04-10T20:24:00.003-05:00

The Gun-Slingin' Super Chef made something wonderful tonight.

I would show you a picture, but . . . we ate it. Plus, it just looked like a lump of potatoes.

Here's what he told me he did. This is a recipe through the grapevine.

He took several smallish butter gold potatoes, peeled them and set them to boil in a pot of water.

He put a little Italian seasoning in the water, and when the potatoes were tender to the stabbing of a fork, he poured the water off.

Then he put the pot back on the stove (lowish heat, i'm assuming) and added a stick of butter (that's real butter, people, the kind that comes from a cow). As the butter melted, the potatoes absorbed the butter and began to break down. (P.S., this isn't diet food.)

Eventually, he add a large slosh of milk, garlic, and onion to taste (and probably some salt he didn't mention), and gave them a stir.

The looked and had the texture of slightly lumpy mashed potatoes, and OH THE FLAVOR. No gravy with this stuff please. These potatoes ARE the condiment.

Super yum!

This post may or may not have been published on the actual day it was written; thus time references are not meant for historical significance, merely maximum entertainment.

If it looks like a duck . . .

2011-04-09T08:03:00.001-05:00

In my idea book, which i've mentioned once or twice now, i have a lot of things written down.

Some of them are just funny, momentary thoughts. I wrote them down because it seems to me that someone else should benefit from the funniness. It really is a shame that you all can't listen inside my head and hear the funny thoughts. I'm not an orator, but inside my head, it is very entertaining.

Thus begins (maybe) a sporadic series of random funny thoughts that shouldn't otherwise be blog posts on their own. And may or may not make any sense outside of my brain.

Funny thought #1:

While i was getting trained at my new/old job, i found myself in want of enough work to do. Bored and tired of looking for work at the end of the day (a situation that has since been mightily rectified - don't ask for more work at a government job unless you mean it), i said to myself, "tomorrow i'm bringing my nose picker so i can get some work done!"

I have no idea what a nose picker is. It's just funny.

Funny thought #2:

The weather forecasters had been talking about rain all day.

Driving home from work, i say to myself:

"They said it's going to rain. It seems like it should rain. It looks like it's going to rain. I want it to rain.

And still no duck."

Further along on the trip home, concerning road construction:

"I see the cones that look like they're doing construction. I read the sign that says they're doing construction. I think i know what kind of construction they're going to do. I approve of the construction.

And still no duck."

The Importance of Careful Driving

2011-04-08T19:09:00.001-05:00

I write down things in my little idea book. We talked about that. And then i mull over them. I think it's a good thing that i mull over them.

Lemme splain.

Last week or some other day, i found a great deal on licorice at Walgreens, and i bought a bunch of it, because i really really like licorice.

I'm not talking about twizzlers, by the way, yummy, black licorice. That's the stuff!

Anyway.

While glorying in my cheap and yummy licorice, i wrote in my idea book, "my love of licorice." Problem is, everything i had to say about my love of licorice has already been said in like three lines. Three fairly boring lines.

So i mulled. Well, honestly, i just didn't write about it and didn't cross it out of my idea book.

Then, i think it was yesterday, i bought a coke before driving home because i was sleepy.

I keep my licorice in my car so i can have a treat on the way home.

Something wonderful:

I was driving along, concentrating on staying awake and alert, when i happily followed a big bite of licorice with a swig of coca-cola, and the dance marathon that took place in my mouth was outstanding! Have you ever done this? This is amAZing!

So on today's trip home, i practiced, trying to get the mix just right. It turns out that chewing up your licorice the right amount and then swigging coke while the licorice is still in your mouth, takes more concentration that you might think. Don't worry; i didn't have a wreck or anything crazy, but i could tell the guy behind me was getting frustrated with my fluctuating driving speed when he made a dangerous pass-the-slow-driver move in the middle of a small town, narrowly missing several other cars.

Poor guy.

I never did get the combination right, but i had a lot of fun trying.

This post may or may not have been published on the actual day it was written; thus time references are not meant for historical significance, merely maximum entertainment.

A Beautiful Lady

2011-04-07T17:22:00.000-05:00

Today, i did laundry, among other things, of course.

The washateria is a wonderful place. You never know who you'll meet there. Or whether they"ll want to talk to you.

The laundromat was pretty quiet, and while i waited for my clothes to go through their intended cycles, i messed around on my barely-used cell phone. Deleting this, setting alarms for egg turning, experimenting with different noises. You know . . . passing time.

While i was passing the time, a little ~~old lady~~ oldest-lady-ever walked into the laundromat with her little basket of clothes in hand.

"HEL-lo," i said, sort of sing-songy.

The white-haired woman turned to me, stopped herself from saying something i didn't her and then responded, emphatically, "It's after noon. Good AfterNOON!"

"Good Afternoon," i smiled back. What a sweet lady. And possibly i should enunciate better with future conversation.

I went back to my cell phone, and she started her laundry. Soon, she came back from the washers to sit next to me by the wall. I expected conversation from this one and prepared to withdraw myself from my mindless button pushing, when i spied, by the corner of my eye, that she was pulling out HER cell phone.

Now you have to understand just how very old this woman appears to be. She's got at least 20 years on any of my beautiful, white-haired aunts, by all appearances. So the cell phone was FUNNY.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! again." her slightly screechy, broken, very-old-lady voice, called into her very fashionable flip-phone.

Her conversation lasted all of 15 seconds, and i got up to change my clothes over. When i did, i noticed the faint odor of what i was to learn were 2 cats and one dog, and when i came back to the row of chairs where we were sitting, i found her, following every stereotype, as she took up her knitting with red, white, and blue threads.

Now that's more like it. Crafters will always tell you what they're crafting . . . even shy crafters, and this one did not strike me as shy. I had to strike up conversation.

I learned that this lovely lady, smiley and talkative with all of 5 teeth in her head, was knitting hats for cancer patients. Well, she excused herself, "i'm cheating on this one; these are for my grandchildren for their birthday." The titillating knitting conversation very quickly drew in another laundering crafter who had to see what she was up to.

I left soon after that, but i loved our visit. I love seeing the beauty in those who are aged; i love it when they don't care if they smell like dogs or if there are no teeth in their mouths; i love that the beauty of beautiful people shines through any facade. I love that real beauty really is on the inside. I love it when it's proven to me.

. . . let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.

~ I Peter 3:4 ~

Shredded Tires

2011-04-05T21:51:00.000-05:00

I don't know about you.

I don't see a lot of shredded tires close up. Or at all. It's just not one of those things . . .

But today was different.

Let me, um, give some back ground.

The other day, the super hero and i visited family in separate cars. We're cool like that now. Anyway, that was a completely irrelevant point. The relevant point is that when hubby was driving home, he thought something horrible had happened to his truck. Like maybe the tie rod had broken or some other desperately wrong thing that caused the truck to just lose its mind.

Then today, for some reason, he decided to drive his truck. And while he was driving, a big piece of his tire peeled off and beat up the fender. And then the truck stopped acting funny.

Look at this!

The tread just peeled right off, but the tire didn't go flat. Too funny. Yes, we're going to replace the tire. We're not that redneck.

But we are very very grateful for this particular shredded tire because it means that our truck isn't yet headed to the auto graveyard.

THEN, someone stopped and asked if they could leave their horse trailer in front of our house while they went to get a tire to replace a flat.

While they were gone, i caught site of their "flat tire."

Are you kidding?

How long does a tire have to shred on the wheel before it braids itself? This is awesome!

I'm pretty sure someone ran this one over a . . . well, i don't know . . . a bed of ice picks? Is there such a thing as a bed of ice picks?

Maybe there was a really angry lawn mower incident . . .

Anyway, it turns out it was a really good day for interestingly shredded flat or damaged tires.

And i thought i'd share.

Funny Monday

2011-04-04T05:58:00.000-05:00

I thought about not writing today.

But then i thought, "It's Monday. Don't leave 'em hangin' on a Monday!"

But since it's Monday for me too, i couldn't think of anything intelligent to say on my own.

So i found this funny.

Hope your Monday goes great and is blessed!!!

Funny:

The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Hope that made you laugh. =)

It's the MOST Wonderful Time of the YEEEEEEEEEARRRRR

2011-04-02T21:13:00.000-05:00

I saw it coming.

It's just too exciting.

I heard the clucking.

I saw the fluffing.

It's the time of year for making babies.

Furry little winged chicken babies.

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Tonight i set 7 fertilized eggs underneath a beautiful, fluffy, delightfully angry, broody hen in our outdoor brooder.

I also set 18 more eggs in our electronic hen in the utility room.

In three weeks, i'll be boring you again with lots of pictures of fuzzy little creatures, who will then immediately go to live at their new home, if all goes well.

A Metaphor about Rose Colored Glasses

2011-04-01T05:51:00.000-05:00

I'm going to tell you a metaphor (sort of) about Rose-colored glasses.

But first i have to tell you a boring story so it all makes more sense.

When i started my new old job, i immediately found that i had a problem seeing in my office. I can see fine at home, fine while driving, fine everywhere except in that office. And i started getting headaches. So i went to the eye doctor and said, "what's the deal?" And the eye doctor said, "hmm, i don't know . . ." so that was helpful.

That's not all she said. She was very nice and helpful, and we discussed the possibility of fluorescent light sensitivity and the possibility that tinted lenses might be useful.

So i went home and did some googling and bought some cheap sun glasses and did some experimenting at work (you should see the looks you get when you wear shades at your desk), and i decided on pink tinted lenses. My insurance will cover colors "pink 1" and "pink 2," but the people at the pick-out-your-glasses-place didn't have an example of "pink 2," so i picked that one.

And this is what i got.

Happily, these glasses are AWESOME! I can SEE! So the looks i'm getting and the nicknames i'm accumulating are fine with me. I can SEE!

I've not worn glasses before, so this has taken some getting used to. Not to mention the pink lenses, which i don't seem to notice while on, but i definitely notice when i take them off. Also, when wearing glasses, i can't seem to be able to tell where my feet are, which can be dangerous.

So here's my little metaphorical prose i made up in my head while not falling down the stairs.

My rose colored glasses make everything bright. They shield me from some of the realities in life.

Rose Colored Glasses

They make the pretty things prettier and the ugly things less ugly. They make me feel as though my feet aren't even on the ground.
When people look at me, they can see that i'm different, and i don't mind because the view from in here is so fine.
But when i go traveling, doing serious business, my feet i must feel on the ground. So i take off my glasses, lest i fall on my head, get pink glass in my eye, and start seeing red.

O.k., i didn't work too hard on that, but it's early in the morning, so you get whatcha get. Hope you can read between the lines. There's the possibility of a life lesson in there.

Gardening

2011-03-31T05:46:00.000-05:00

Hubby and i pretty much always have a tendency to dream way bigger than what we can accomplish practically . . . at least any time soon. This year, we tried another approach. Let's do more than we did last year. Accomplishable. Awesome.

Last year's little tiny garden was wonderful. We ate a lot off wonderful fresh food from it. But this year . . . this year we got to borrow someone's tiller.

Even awesomer.

Here are the first three rows that hubby has planted. Pictures (at least when i take them) are so much less impressive than the real thing, but here it is.

Tomatoes and peppers and some herbs, so far.

Already, our garden is double what it was last year, but we still have lots of room to grow. I think hubby calculated that if we plant (we, meaning my hoe-slinging super gardener) all we tilled, it will be about 5 times what we did last year. Go hubby!!!!

Sorry for the tease yesterday (ok, not that sorry; it was fun). Maybe i'll try harder to get better pictures sometime in the future. I love gardens. They're so beautiful. I'm so glad i live with a good gardener.

Stay tuned, ok?

2011-03-30T05:41:00.000-05:00

I have a couple of very important blog posts to share with you, but they both require that my camera return home from a field trip it has taken.

That may or may not happen today.

Stay tuned, ok?

Then i will tell you about our new, and bigger garden -- and about possibly the funniest glasses . . . o.k., not ever, but in a long time.

Just a Bit of Thankfulness Early in the Morning

2011-03-29T05:43:00.000-05:00

I was reading just now.

Proverbs 6:20-22
20 My son, observe the commandment of your father And do not forsake the teaching of your mother ;
21 Bind them continually on your heart ; Tie them around your neck.
22 When you walk about, they will guide you; When you sleep, they will watch over you; And when you awake, they will talk to you.

And i thought about how my parents' guidance has been tied around my neck (in a good way) all my life, how i've known the protection of their prayers and the wisdom of their reproof from my youth. How i sometimes hear my mother's words in my head, from years ago, and they instruct me and point me in the right direction. How they taught me to follow God.

How thankful i am for Godly parents.

Thank You, Father, God.

Thank you, Mom and Dad.

I know that raising your children in a holy way in our generations, in our society, cannot be easy.

So i am in awe of not only my parents, but also my friends who are parents of little tiny children right now, and have chosen to raise their kids to be holy and upstanding and un-baptised in the world's ideas.

To know and love Jesus.

I know that God blesses it and honors it and will not forsake it. I know it from personal experience.

Thank you.

Chariots of Fire and Dirty Socks

2011-03-28T05:53:00.000-05:00

Have you ever seen the movie, Chariots of Fire?

I think i was five when it was in the movie theater. I remember this because my parents took me to a matinee. It was a very exciting occasion for the little me. It was my first movie ever. I slept through Chariots of Fire and then i woke up to see Bambi, after which i swore, in tears, to never see another movie as long as i lived! If going to the movies meant that some mean hunter was going to shoot Bambi's dad for no good reason, then movies just weren't living up to all the hype. I wailed, my parents comforted me and assured me that i didn't have to watch any more horrible movies, and i remember my dad commenting on how Hollywood was giving hunters a bad rap.

~~~~~~~

Chariots of Fire, which i eventually did see, many moons later, depicts the true story of a man who was a very fast runner, in some year long before my birth. He was the son of a family of missionaries, if remember correctly, and his sister was criticizing all his time spent training for a silly race. The man's response was, "when i run, i feel HIS pleasure." He couldn't give his family a philosophical reason for his spending all this time training for a race, running instead of spending his energy making his way to some unreached people group in the jungle. He only knew that when he ran, he felt the pleasure of God.

~~~~~~~

When i was in college, i briefly worked with a young woman - another student, whose work study job was in the custodial department. Our job was to clean the dormitory buildings, including the dormitory hallways and the community bathrooms. We vacuumed and mopped and . . . as i said, cleaned the bathrooms. It didn't take me long to find a work study position that didn't require rubber gloves, but i have never forgotten this young woman who truly found pleasure in cleaning up after her fellow students. She never came to work grumpy. She never showed any displeasure. She smiled the most beautiful smile, with mop in hand, and said that she really enjoyed her job.

~~~~~~~

Several years ago . . . i don't remember how many, but it was earlier than the other day . . . when we lived in our little apartment in the city, i remember one day when i was preparing to do laundry. I was collecting dirty socks that had been left at various stations on the floor--invariably inside-out--and pushing my hand into the dirty, sweaty, worn-by-a-manual-laborer-in-the-Texas-summer-heat, socks, to turn them right side out, when i heard something that stamped an indelible impression on my heart. I heard God say -- it wasn't out loud, but it may well have been -- that it gave Him pleasure to see me pick up my husband's dirty socks. I knew it was HIM. I certainly would not have come up with such a thing. But i felt His pleasure when He said it.

Since then, i kind of look forward to picking up dirty socks. And if i do it with a bad attitude, i am reminded that it gives God pleasure when i serve my husband. When i wash the dishes or do his laundry or sweep the floor, or whatever i do with a humble heart, i know it gives God pleasure.

Now i understand the fellow in Chariots of Fire and the beautiful woman who cleaned the bathrooms, whose names i can't remember, but both of whom made an impression on my life. When you feel God's pleasure . . . well, there's just nothing better than that, no matter what you're doing.

Spirit Fruit

2011-03-25T19:45:00.000-05:00

I saw something just now on Facebook that made me think you might enjoy it if i share this.

The other day (meaning some other day than today, but probably sometime in the last few years), my wonderful mother wrote a series of posts that i have read over and over again. They have become a wonderful tool for me to study the fruit of the Spirit and how they should be affecting my life. Those posts start HERE. You should go read them and make notes. But if you don't have time for that right now . . .

The other (different than the one mentioned above) day, i wrote down a succincter (would you believe me if i told you that's a real word?) list of the fruit of the Spirit explanations that i could post on my cubicle wall at work . . . as a reminder. Since i posted them on my wall at work, and i'm not at work right now, i won't get this exactly right, but i'll get it close.

The fruit of the Spirit is:

Love - like Jesus

Joy - is peace, dancing,

Peace - the kind that passes all understanding,

Patience - waiting with expectation, peaceful, knowing that God is trustworthy,

Goodness - in will of heart and in action,

Gentleness - strength under control,

Kindness - selflessness without pretense,

Faithfulness - just my response to His,

Self-control - the Spirit is the master; the flesh is the servant

My Idea Book

2011-03-23T21:41:00.000-05:00

Sometime in the last year . . . i think it might have been my advent package in December . . . my mom sent me this cute little writing pad that is really pretty, and it has my name on it, and it's about 3 by 4 inches, and it magnets closed.

I know that wasn't the best description.

Up 'til now, i hadn't found a really good use for it. But as it turns out, it fits perfectly in this little inside pocket in my purse. I've started leaving it on my desk while i'm at work, and when i have a thought that i might blog about, i jot something down to help me remember later.

I don't know if i'm ready to blog about any of those things right now, but i thought i'd share some of what i have written in my notebook right now.

My idea book.

blinding headlights
my love of licorice
tomorrow i'm bringing my nose picker
tired evening bees
chariots of fire and dirty socks

These ideas may or may not become their own blog posts.

But this is how the "magic" sometimes begins.

Powerful Women

2011-03-22T05:48:00.002-05:00

I don't think i have time to post all that i want to say here, but maybe i'll share a snippet.

Yesterday, my work-lunch hour with co-workers in our break-room, turned quickly into kind of a man-bashing session by a few women who, from all reports, did not have a lovely weekend with the men in their lives whose main flaw was having been "born male."

Now, i quickly assessed the situation and concluded that the odds of my survival in that room, should i pipe up with reports of a wonderful husband, were not great. The girl who "thinks she has a perfect marriage" just doesn't fair well in that situation, and there is no appreciation for her happy life. So i kept my mouth shut and ate my soup.

Beautifully, on the very same day, a co-worker (one who was not a part of the man-bashing ceremony in the break-room) came up to me and expressed to me (i'm not bragging, just reporting) with near-tears, how refreshing it had been for her to see my hubby and me interact at the garage sale this weekend.

That interaction was a great blessing to me. A testimony to God's grace, really. Our public interactions haven't always been so "refreshing."

My friend said that she could tell that we really love each other.

And here's my snippet on a subject that could take months to cover:

When women feel hurt, they like to go on about how powerful they are and how much unhappiness they can reciprocate to the uncaring man.

I'm not the perfect wife, and i don't have the perfect marriage (who does?), but i have learned this much.

Women are very powerful. But a woman's true, and most beautiful, power emerges when she uses that God-given strength to humble herself and choose to love. A woman has the power to be the thermostat in her home. Not the thermometer. The thermometer merely tells the temperature. The thermostat affects the temperature, returning it to a pleasing level. A woman has the power to gauge the situation, see through the displays of emotions, to the need, and to minister to her family . . . and her husband . . . and her home. She has the power (should she submit to God's leading) to love through the possible turmoil, to tough it out, and see beauty on the other side. (Edited to add: Since she's an intelligent thermostat, she also has the power to make it cold as ice or hot as hell in that house, and that's what we're trying to avoid).

Better to live on a corner of a roof than to share a home with a quarreling woman.

~ Proverbs 25:24 ~

Happy Monday!

2011-03-21T05:26:00.000-05:00

I told you that i would try to blog every day.

I just don't have anything really good to say today.

I am brooding a good, deep, blog about dirty socks, but it's not ready yet.

It's Monday morning.

Happy Beginning of the Week!

Time for coffee.

Dejected Pajamas and Unreasonable Antiques

2011-03-19T22:03:00.000-05:00

About spending Saturdays in pajamas . . .

Hubby had a long overdue eye appointment today.

And i was going into town to pick out glasses for my own eyes.

That would be a good time to do some shopping.

And then i was reminded about the county garage sale at the fair grounds . . .

You see where this is going, right?

We went into town early to check out the group garage salers' wares at the fair grounds. More about that in a minute. After we filled our car to the brim with other people's former stuff, we got some quick fast food snacks and checked out the eye doctor.

The eye doctor did the eye doctor's thing, and we did the pick out your glasses thing, blah blah blah.

Then we caught a movie and a cheap dinner, and headed for home.

The grocery store was skipped because we managed to leave our grocery list on the refrigerator, where it does the most good.

Before we made it home, we stopped to deliver garage sale gift wares to the in-laws, and hubby helped shave a dog (come on, i had to say that; how often to you get to tell people that "shave a dog" is in your daily list of have-dones?). Then we had to pass up home and go to the grocery store so we could have dinner. We made it home at 8pm-ish. Hubby managed to whip up a fantastic nachos (yes, this is our health food day) dinner in a very short period of time, and now that it's time to go to bed, we have eaten dinner, and everything is better.

This was my pajama-wearing restful Saturday, if you recall.

I've got to stop that! I'm exhausted!

My day's not quite over though. In a minute, hubby and i, now actually in our pajamas, plus sneakers, are going to go outside and rescue the bargain-possibly-antique table from the back seat of my 96 honda two door civic. How did we get this much larger than the opening table into the back seat of my car? I'm not sure i can explain that. However, i am happy to announce that neither the table nor my car (to my knowledge) was harmed in the writing of this blog . . . or the transport of said table.

A few minutes later . . .

The table is now in my house, undergoing a thorough photo shoot.

Why did we buy a table for our already quite-full-enough-thankyou house? Well, we loved it. And it came at an unreasonable price. Unreasonable, in that the gentleman who allowed us to walk away with his table required a probably, unreasonably small amount of money in exchange for the privilege.

Yay us. At least we think so.

Since we aren't exactly antiques experts, we can't be sure, but hubby is very familiar with the crafts of wood and has seen a lot of good signs that this particular piece is old and hand made.

I'm having visions of appearing on Antiques Roadshow and having someone tell me that my table would bring $75,000 at auction, or something REALLY unreasonable like that. O.k. $7500 will be enough.

In the meantime, it lives here 'cause we really like it. And because it miraculously fit in the back seat.

Content a little

2011-03-18T05:18:00.000-05:00

It's a little scary to write it out loud like this.

I think i might be getting a little bit content.

I mean in a good way.

I've been pretty weirded out by this whole working-in-an-office-again thing. Praying that God would help me and make it better. In my heart.

I think i might be getting there a little bit.

My beautiful little flock is doing a good job taking care of themselves and going out and taunting the predators to come eat them. And they're laying eggs, enough to keep us going, pretty regularly.

They're keeping the dream alive, anyway.

Spring is here, and the forest is beautiful, and since the time change, i actually get to see it in the evenings.

And i have a good job, that i didn't have to try hard to get, during a time when many very qualified people can't seem to get any job, no matter how hard they try.

I am truly blessed.

I have a husband who spoils me, taking care of the kitchen and house things and cooking me dinner all week.

I think i'm starting to be able to sit back and wait on God and see what He's doing here. Not that i can see what He's doing yet. But i'm relaxing enough to be able to watch the show.

That's my update for today.

And also, Thank God It's FRIDAY!

So i can be home all day tomorrow and be content in my pajamas!

In Case You Think I'm Getting Shallow

2011-03-17T05:43:00.000-05:00

While i've been talking about myself these past few days, some really big things have been happening in the world.

Let me just say that i can't bear to watch the news about Japan for more than about 2 minutes, so talking about it is even harder. I just keep praying that God will have mercy and let His name be glorified in all of this terror. My heart is very much crying for the people of Japan. I just don't have anything profound to say about it.

In other news, i just realized it's St. Patrick's day, so if you're going to be around those people who think it's cute to pinch people because it's March 17th, don't forget to wear green. And please don't pinch people. I hate being pinched.

In other other news, Happy Birthday to my Aunt Ruthie.

This Is The Stuff

2011-03-17T05:38:00.000-05:00

I heard this song on the radio yesterday, and woke up singing it this morning. It's not my favorite song, but it has a good beat.

It's all about the "stuff" that makes you nuts and aggravates you throughout your day and how God uses it to make you into His image. Pretty cool message really.

Sadly, i was singing the song in my head in a completely different context this morning.

I don't know what it is. But some days . . .

Some days i can wake up just feeling like someone bashed me in the head and implanted worms in my stomach while i slept. And sometimes, that first cup of three day-old re-heated coffee somehow makes everything better.

That's what happened this morning. Until about 5 minutes ago, i was feeling pretty bad. It's Thursday morning, and my body (and my mind) would really rather just take an un-earned sick day today, but i can't. I'm tired. My stomach was doing horrible things, and i wasn't sure if breakfast was even a good idea.

But then i took that first sip of coffee.

Close your eyes and pretend with me.

Wait! Open your eyes, silly. This is a blog; you'll miss out on the rest if your eyes are closed.

Pretend in a minute.

That first, refreshing, comforting, everything's-going-to-be-o.k.-because-God-made-coffee-beans, sip, which turns into a long life-giving drink of perfectly warm, perfectly sweetened, perfectly creamed, i-feel-so-much-better-now, coffee.

Yeah, THIS is the stuff.

Thank You, God, for coffee. Especially today.

Spring is nice

2011-03-15T21:58:00.000-05:00

Today, my feet hurt all day long (from all the sitting, i guess), and when i got home they still hurt, so badly that i wanted to do nothing but go sit down (more sitting). But when i drove in, i noticed the beautiful dogwoods that i had noticed blooming this morning. So i had to get my camera.

Funny thing happened. As i headed out the door with my camera, suddenly my feet didn't hurt. Funny.

Jelly saw me with the camera and immediately posed. She's an awfully stoic dog, isn't she?

Then the dogwoods.

Aren't they lovely? This is the best i've seen them bloom since we've lived here. Four different trees.

Happiness.

Today i was feeling cute. And since i haven't felt cute and narcissistic enough to take pictures of myself, like a teenager on myspace, in several years, i thought i would share a couple.

Please keep in mind that the camera adds 10 pounds . . . mostly to your eyes when it's 5:30 in the morning. I say this for the sake of my mother who will take one look at those eyes and tell me to go to bed.

The red shirt pics are from after work. The eyes have lost some weight, and the hair has lost some bling, but i was still feeling goofy enough to publish pictures of myself, and i had the camera handy, so . . .

Review of Healthy-ish Cookies

2011-03-15T05:55:00.000-05:00

First, i'm sorry i don't have a picture.

They're pretty good. I only added about 2 scoops of protein powder because that was all i had, but the extra pure cocoa does a good job of covering the little aftertaste that protein powder has. We both really like them. I want to try them again with more protein powder and possibly substituting canned pumpkin for some of the wet ingredients.

Can you sub pumpkin for shortening? I would like it if you could.

Anyway, yummy cookies. I haven't calculated it yet, but they probably have maybe 2 grams of protein each? I can do better, but for now, they're a tiny boost of protein and slow burn carbs (oats).

Next time i think i would also like to try some unexpected dried fruits in there.

Health Cookies

2011-03-14T19:47:00.001-05:00

I don't know if this is a recipe exactly. Or even if these qualify as "healthy." But i'm trying something right now. Something that i may improve on at a later date.

I looked up a cool recipe on allrecipes.com, but i didn't have all the stuff, so i had to work with what i have.

I took a basic oatmeal cookie recipe that i like. I substituted part of the flour with chocolate flavored protein shake powder and straight cocoa powder. It was pretty dry, so i added an extra egg, which made it too soupy, so i added extra oatmeal. Oh, and raisins.

My health cookies are in the oven right now. I'm hoping the cocoa will drown out the taste of the fake chocolate in the protein powder. But the protein powder should help boost the protein content.

Might be interesting. Hopefully it will be yummy . . . and somewhat more healthy than regular oatmeal cookies.

Dear Diary,

2011-03-14T05:42:00.000-05:00

I would like to get back to blogging every day, like i used to.

Sadly, "getting back to" blogging every day will mean that you will have to probably endure some completely pointless posts. It's part of the process. I apologize.

I sit here, at 5:30 a.m., trying to think of something clever to say . . . quickly, because i should really be getting ready for work, and i feel kind of the way i did when i first started journaling as a little girl.

My grandmother wrote in her journal every day. Stacks upon stacks of spiral notebooks, detailing the days of her life, are proof of that. She was my example for journaling. And my original entries were pretty bland. (This isn't really a quote; it's just something like i would have written.)

March 4, 1983

Dear Diary,
Today i had cereal for breakfast.
At lunch time, Tommy gave me a mean look.
Grandma braided my hair today, and i looked beautiful!
Beth plus Tommy equals love forever.

Those were the beginnings of my becoming a "writer." Don't despise small beginnings, people. Someday, i'm going to have something published that's interesting and helpful. You just watch. And it will all have started with my telling my diary what i had for breakfast.

So, today. It's now 5:36 a.m.

I had scrambled eggs and a tortilla for breakfast. I'm still finishing my coffee. I have no idea what i'll have for lunch. This is the Monday after day light savings, and i'm not looking forward to driving to work in the dark, especially since it sounds a lot like it's storming outside right now.
Thankfully, when i come home, my darling husband, who isn't Tommy with the dirty looks, will be waiting for me. I love him very much, and i am very thankful for him (my husband, not Tommy; i have no idea who Tommy is; i made him up).

It's 5:38. Time to go finish my coffee and see about some possibly truly clump-free mascara.

Mostly Inconsequential Ponderings

2011-03-13T20:36:00.000-05:00

How should i cut my hair?

What should i wear to work tomorrow?

Does clumpless mascara really exist?

These are the kinds of ponderings that i have been blessed to be free of for the past 2 1/2 years. Things that have everything to do with appearance, nothing to do with who i am, and things i would rather not spend a lot of mental energy on. Since they, in the scheme of eternity, have little lasting consequences, i tend to avoid them.

Lately, however, i have been more aware of all the inconsequential matters of appearances. Not because anyone pointed them out to me, but because being around people tends to cause one to consider one's own appearance . . . at least this one.

With all that fluff clouding my mind, as i guess it should a little, i have had less room for lovely things like crocheting and farming.

Today, i got to visit with a lovely person in my family who inadvertently re-inspired me to crochet, even if it's just whenever i can. And i feel more relaxed already, just thinking about it.

My goal: soon, i will, post an item for sale in my Etsy store.

No really.

I will.

Really.

*****

Meanwhile, you might be interested to know that gardening season has officially begun here on the wannabe-farm, and my gun slingin' super hero garden maker has been tilling his heart out. Our garden is now about 5 times the size of last year's garden, and all of our living room and kitchen windows are filled with started plants, waiting to be planted in our garden. It is a beautiful glimmer of brightness, both inside and out.

Speaking of gun slingin', the snakes are making their way out of their winter hiding places, here in East Texas. This afternoon, while visiting with family, my nieces and nephews were accosted by a large water moccasin. Said water moccasin was smartly killed and cut open to see what he was eating (it was a fish), shortly after his foolish transgression.

This is how we know that spring is here.

Sorry i don't have the pictures. I know you would have loved to see them.

And yes, there are pictures.

Just sayin', walk loudly and carry a sharp hoe.

That's my advice for today.

About Sitting and Walking

2011-03-05T14:13:00.000-06:00

This whole working-in-an-office-and-wearing-pretty-clothes-and-combing-your-hair thing, of late, has been more of a transition than i expected. This surprises me, most of all, because i did the ...combing-your-hair thing for quite a few years before my leap into farmer-hood, and it never seemed weird or unusual or unnatural to me, that i remember. There were times of longing to be able to take care of my home better, but i think that was about it.

One of the things that has struck me the most is the unreasonable amount of time every day that i now spend sitting.

Completely unreasonable.

I get in my car around 6:30 a.m., where i sit for 45 or so minutes and drive to work. Once i get to work, i park my car in my assigned place on the roof of the parking garage (i'm not sure what the point is of an uncovered roof on a parking garage, but that's another story), and i walk, briefly, about a block's worth, to my office, where i sit. I sit and type and shuffle papers and write on files and whatnot. Every once in a while, i get my hands on an urgent file that simply must be walked across the street immediately. I welcome those files. We used to get more files to walk across the street, but management noticed we weren't sitting enough and provided someone to walk most of our files across the street for us, so we could sit some more. I get an hour for lunch, at which time i usually take my leftovers to the break room, where i can sit down at a table with my co-workers and gab about something non-work-related, while i eat my lunch, sitting. When i get done sitting and talking, i gather my things and go back to my desk, where i sit for several more hours, continuing my paper shuffling and hoping for emergency files. At the end of the day, i walk back to the roof of the parking garage, and i sit down and drive home. At this point, i have sat, with brief interruptions, for a total of about 11 1/2 hours.

Yikes.

To the credit of my office and its staff, there is a current trend, wherein employees are encouraged to take walks during their breaks and at lunch, to encourage a healthier lifestyle and so forth. I commend this trend; i simply haven't coordinated the carrying of shoes that don't hurt for walking, into my daily routine. I also usually forget to take breaks. They interrupt my train of thought.

However, on Thursday, when i came home, i did incorporated an after-dinner walk, which was one of the most enjoyable walks i have had. Like, ever.

Then, on Friday (casual Friday, wherein sneakers are part of the dress code), i took a walk at lunch and went shopping for a few minutes. That was awesome too.

Then, today, i got up, after sleeping in sufficiently to provide recompense for the loss of sleep incurred during the week, and i (finally) cleaned out the chicken coop and brooder.

Awesome.

Physical movement is really good.

And the chickens rewarded me with four eggs today.

Even awesomer.

I feel like a new woman and am now considering how to incorporate sneakers into my routine.

Inside Outside

2011-02-27T14:22:00.000-06:00

This morning at church, one of the gentlemen who just got back from a short mission trim to Guatemala, shared a very interesting observation. Here, in the U.S., most people who i've met, myself included, have a tendency to put on a picture of who they want everyone to believe they are, on the outside. While on the inside, at home when no one's looking, there could be hell going on. All the dark stuff is hidden.

The observation the man shared was that in the city they visited, the outdoors, the streets, were like a place of war. Men who walked the streets openly carried automatic weapons and shotguns, to protect themselves, their homes, and their families. But the homes, carefully guarded by iron gates and often, armed family members, were just the opposite of the streets. They were places (at least the ones visited by this person) of peace. They were clean and pleasant and full of helpfulness and encouragement. The opposite of the streets.

This contrast spoke to me because of my recent determination to not be a person of facades. My soul aches to present truth. Even if that truth is ugly. To be simple and transparent and pure.

I'm not sure exactly what i want to say about this. But it spoke to me, and i wanted to share it. There is a place and a reason for war and battling against the ugliness that wants to enslave. (Getting deep here, i know.) And i can fight for the right reasons if my inside, my secret place, is clean and transparent.

It's a beautiful picture. I hope you get something out of it.

Now it's time for choir practice. Possibly my favorite time of the week.

The Blessings of Early Morning

2011-02-22T06:03:00.000-06:00

I have always been a person who enjoys the early morning.

But when you don't really need to be anywhere at any particular time, early morning can get away from you.

Now, that i leave the house earlier than i used to get out of bed, i have re-embraced, truly early mornings.

The blessings:

1. Quiet. It's like the air itself is quieter early in the morning.
2. Happy chickens: they love getting out at the very first crack of dawn.
3. No hurrying: I get up earlier than i have to because i love to be on time and hate to hurry.
4. Time in God's word: I am making a habit of having breakfast while reading His word. That way my spirit and my body are fed at the same time. This morning's (one of many) really awesome tid bit:

I shall run the way of Your commandments, For You will enlarge my heart. Psalm 119:32

5. It's 6am, and i'm ready to go, and it's not time yet, so i get to drop you a note.

Have a lovely day, my peeps.

What i have.

2011-02-21T10:35:00.000-06:00

I have hesitated to write here lately.

My mind preoccupied (temporarily, i insist) with non wannabe-farmer information, i was afraid to bore you.

I was also afraid that i would lose readers because of the non-farmy writing. After all, the big deal of "going to work" isn't exactly interesting to most of you. I mean it's pretty normal, right? Does doing what everyone else does while trying to do what everyone else doesn't qualify as interesting?

Then i realized that i was doing with this blog, exactly what i renounced in my daily life - performance. I was seeking to give you what i think you're expecting, instead of giving you what i have and who i am.

Please accept my sincerest apologies.

And if this new phase of my life, a means to the same wannabe-farmer end, bores you, and you don't want to subscribe anymore, it's cool. It just is what it is, and i'm cool with it.

And i'll keep givin' you what i have when i have it, and it will be real.

Good enough?

Cool.

******

Now, a few updates.

Car.

With the advent of becoming a two income family again, we knew that becoming also a two car family was going to make life a lot easier for both of us. So we had started budgeting to take on a car payment (which we haven't had for more than two years) and deciding what kind of car to look for, etc., etc., blah blah blah. God's plans for me are so much better than mine. A used car, in very good condition, seemingly fell into our laps on Friday. We were able to pay cash and still have no car note. God is so good! It's very cute and sporty, and i love driving it.

And since we don't have to pick up a note, we will be able to do the maintenance needed to help it serve us another 15 years or so. This whole thing is a great relief, especially to my super hero husband, who really didn't want another bill, and i'm pretty tickled too.

Work.

Work is not what i expected, exactly, but what ever is? I like my position. I like the work i have to do. And i will like it all a lot better when i catch up. That tends to always be the case when you're a government paper shuffler (the part about needing to catch up), but i think it's actually possible now. I think i am going to enjoy my job.

Chickens.

My tiny flock seems to be much happier without the overcrowdedness they were enduring before, and when i get home from work in the evenings, the first thing i do is to let them out for a good run around the house before bed time. Thankfully, with summer approaching, that "run" will be a few hours long in just very soon. As i anticipated, i very much look forward to seeing my chickens in the evening. They help me re-associate myself with the non-office me, and they always give me a smile when i watch them take off running aimlessly around the house.

Ducks.

He doesn't know this yet, but i'm pretty sure i can talk my benevolent super hero darling into a pair of muskovy ducks once we get settled in with our new schedule. At least i'm hoping i can.

Bees.

Don't forget the bees. They're coming, probably before the ducks.

I think we'll be back to routine farmy-ness before we know it. It'll just be a tighter schedule to keep it going.

Coffee.

In only three days, i have become newly enamored with that wonderful drink, early in the morning and on the way home in the evening.

Husband.

My super hero cooking husband has been fixing dinner and having it ready for me when i get home in the evening. It is a great blessing to have a husband who understands the finer skills.

That is all of my random thoughts and updates for today.

Plans Smlans

2011-02-15T21:58:00.000-06:00

If there's one thing i should know, it is that things change. Especially plans.

For example, i thought and planned that i would never go back to work again, specifically not to the same job where i'm about to go.

My mom always told me to never say "never" to God. My mom always knows what she's talking about.

And then when i decided i would go back to work for the exact same job i said i'd never go back to, i thought it would be next Tuesday.

This morning, i started feeling a little pre-panic about the idea of having only a week left at home to fuss over chickens and dishes and swept floors and crochet projects and . . .

I kept reminding myself that my life doesn't end when i go back to work. That i will still come home and clean out chicken coops and doctor chickens and hatch eggs and crochet scarves and slippers and wash dishes and . . .

Then, this afternoon, after a lovely visit with an old friend -- and also my first crochet customer -- who i got to catch up with over a glass of tea, i got a phone call. My new/old boss wants to know if i can come in sooner than Tuesday. I said that i would talk to my hubby and get back to them.

And now, i am preparing to go to work tomorrow.

So much for my plans.

So i ironed some clothes and packed some lunches (for both of us) and did laundry and re-cleaned my kitchen and prepared my chickens to live without me and remembered that i have a crochet bag stashed in my vehicle 'cause i'm sneaky like that, and i set the coffee maker to make us some coffee at 4:00 a.m., and i went over the contents of my purse and . . .

Good grief.

Did i say 4:00 a.m.?

Yes, yes i did.

It' almost 10:00 p.m., which means i should not be talking to you right now. But this mind isn't quite ready for sleep. I imagine that will be different tomorrow night. Ha!

You can make many plans, but the LORD's purpose will prevail.

~Proverbs 19:21~

HELLO lo lo lo lo lo lo lo lo o o o o o o o

2011-02-11T23:37:00.000-06:00

I must have mentioned that we're downsizing around here.

Yes, i definitely mentioned that.

I have just a little over a week before i start back to working away from home, and with no more slaughter dates in our near future, i was in a a minor pre-panic to "re-home" a grand slew of chickens, many of whom were raised for meat but whose slaughter dates had been lost in the proverbial black hole of our big transition. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but the point is that we needed them to move on.

Today, i was blessed with friends who came and hauled off most of the grand slew. Followed by a neighbor who hauled off a 8 more, leaving 5 beautiful hens who are scheduled to go to their new home on Sunday, my two beautiful roosters (i may have mentioned them once or twice), Rocky and Edgar, and 9 Buff Orpingtons, who will be my new flock.

Nine.

A couple of months ago, i had almost ninety chickens. That's ten percent.

I think my remaining chickens were at a loss for what to do this evening. I found them all tucked away in chicken bed before it had even gotten dark outside. The coop seemed empty in comparison to its recent capacity.

I imagine that it won't take them more than a couple of days to forget that they coop was ever more populated than it is right now, but when i went in to say goodnight (yes, i'm just exactly that sappy sometimes) my voice seemed to echo. Obviously, only in my head, but still.

****

For those of you who are following this blog for its farming enthusiasm, here's the new plan. I'm not just getting rid of chickens; i'm following new strategy. The chickens remaining (after i re-home all the mover-outers) will all be Buff Orpingtons, a very docile and very broody chicken breed, which we have always loved. This will enable us to produce fertilized hatching eggs for possible sale, and pure bred B.O. chicks for sale, so we can support our chicken and egg habit. That is to say, making these chickens pay for themselves. As time goes on, we'll expand again, but possibly this time, we'll be a little more organized about it and make the chickens a little (or a lot) more self-sustaining. The benefit in the mean time is that we will have a lot less chicken work to do, but we'll still be able to enjoy our chickens and our fresh eggs.

This evening, i listed Rocky and Edgar on just about every come-and-take-my-chickens list i could think of, but i haven't gotten any responses yet.

Anyone want some really gorgeous roosters? The price is good. The price could be really good.

Rocky.

Edgar