Saturday afternoon

What a restful day.  I decided this morning (while I was having my tea in bed---wonderful decision) that I'd take today off.  What that means is yet to be discovered, but I think it means I'll not take on any frets, and will relax and pamper myself.  Sounds like a plan.

As of this very minute, have a jar of walnut hulls steeping in a jar of boiled water (with nettle and rosemary in it as well) to pour over my head to get rid of the grey that's peeking in at the part in my hair.  Trying to get away from store-bought hair color (which I usually just used in tiny batches at the top of my head), and if I can avoid getting this stuff all over myself, it should be a winner.  The walnuts are supposed to stain so well, it'll be interesting to see what I end up with (fingers crossed).

And going to make a peach cobbler.  While we had awfully hot heat indexes this week, with Thursday being the worst of all---thinking the index was about 114F. while I was making dinner, or thereabouts.  Terrible.  We had some rain sweep through that night and since then it's been wonderful.  In the upper 80's now, but it's not too humid and everything looks so clean and clear outside.  Perfect.

So.  That's my deal.  Gary's at the shop making a vapor and repairing chairs in order to get some bills paid this week.  Overdue bills are a huge nuisance, but you've got to keep your perspective.  Doesn't pay to let things like that run your life (must make note of that, not that I excel in mastering this skill by any means).

Going to make French toast for dinner too, on the heels of that cobbler baking.  I really HATE French toast, but am doing it for Gary.  He has a craving.  Will make some bread to up the appeal, like the hair dye, we'll see how this flies.

Take care, all.

Late Thursday afternoon

So I'm trying to figure out what's happened in my life to make it feel like it's wearing too tight.  I seem to stay in a state of uncomfortableness, and can't quite put my finger on what went wrong.  Or maybe I can.

Okay, I think that not having new decorating magazines in the house is one thing.  Might sound lame, but it's okay to sound lame.  Used to, I'd get ME's Home Companion occasionally, and the old Victoria (the new one just ain't the old one), Country Home and maybe the UK version of Country Living (which is still pretty wonderful, if pricey).  I'd make time to sit down, thumb through them and dream a little.

And there was a period (give or take about 15 years ago) when I'd make time to do counted cross-stitch.  I'd allow money to get fabrics for in-hand work (not keen on hoops) especially linen, which I think is extra-dishy.

But places have closed and things aren't as easy to buy in town.  Life is different, and not just for me, but for others as well.  It feels unstable.  If I stand on our front porch (we're on a corner) I can count 7 vacant houses. Well, eight but one's been burned out (I know, attractive) and boarded up, so usually just overlook that one.  Two are empty because of recent deaths, but are likely in a positive state of flux.  And it seems investors are buying up cheap properties and are content to let them sit.  Least that's what I'm hearing in regards to some in our neighborhood.  Who has that kind of money?

There was a time when I felt secure, but that's a rare emotion anymore. Very fleeting.  I like to be able to count on things.  To feel like the rug's not going to be pulled out from under me.  Our finances have always been up and down, up and down, so not sure that's what's bugging me.  I think it's the world.  It's not the cozy place it once was.

Guess all I can do is make it as cozy as it can be with what I have to work with.  Focus on smaller bits of life, and not look outward so much.

I do miss the new magazines, though.  That was something I really adored. The ones out there now are often too expensive, or maybe I figure I've collected enough that more would be silly.  Dunno.

And I don't mean to drag anyone down with this post.  I could pretend, but that'd be unrealistic.  Maybe the challenge is to just take care of my tiny little world and impact our kids' lives as positively as I can.  Could be that's the lesson here.

And to make the time to do creative things, things that get my mind off the daily stuff.  You can only clean so much.  You've got to play (making note of that).

Mid-week

Been cleaning.  The house has been a dusty mess since all the washer drama, along with the chicken coop finishing-upping.  And had to find places to put assorted bird necessities.

This chicken paraphernalia is a bit bulky.  Pine shavings in a big square (thankfully in plastic), and a bag of this stuff that's supposed to cut down on stinky poo smells, something chickens are known for.  You do get used to it, but this bag of stuff Gary got really does work beautifully.  It's made for horse stalls, and is along the same line as kitty litter, but you can't put regular litter in with chickens.  Their coop is all cozy-looking with the shavings/etc. on all flat surfaces.  We also froze a gallon milk jug full of water and put it in a bowl (for drips) to keep them cool when they're shut inside their little home.  Just lends a coolness to the air, even though the coop is ventilated really well.  When middle daughter let them out about an hour ago (had to pen them up so the big dogs could get some exercise), Nora was sitting along-side of it. Don't blame her one bit.  It's darn hot today.

Not much else cookin'.  Gary's bid got accepted (so thankful, but not surprising...we really like this Interior Designer he's got the job from...can't ever remember her having clients turn down his work), but more would be nice.  Living like the wandering Israelites again, and I get their angst.  Wouldn't mind food dropping down from the sky, though. Would save me a trip.

Need to rest now.  Take care.

Stuff

A kinda-sorta hard mental health day. Should've been on my toes more considering the Lord's blessings lately.  The evil one likes to smack us upside the head when he's not getting his way. Must make a note of that.  And invite him to leave.

Got online tonight reading about other adult children's experiences with, what's called, toxic parents.  Non-confrontational methods seem to be choice, and really, getting in a parent's face isn't always the best idea. Least not in my world.  The writing of a letter and burning it is a suggested method of dealing with the stress, and besides, it allows the adult child to get it all out.  Seeing the words in print helps me when talking to myself isn't always possible.  Way too many folks to overhear me around here.

I was talking to a neighbor about a non-related issue.  Seems we agreed that empowerment goes a long way in helping us deal with stuff.  It's hard too to rationalize taking care of ourselves and our own mental health and also being a loving, Christian daughter/son to our trying parents.  It's easy to think I'm selfish taking this point of view, but in order to not drown in guilty feelings, I really have to put myself up further in the food chain.

In other news, Gary's got a bit of work in the shop.  Got news of a needed bid for an Interior Designer yesterday and repair work today.  Something each day, which is wonderful.  More please!

Hope to have a quiet tomorrow.  Nothing pressing too awfully much, and needful of a restful home-day.  Take care, sweets.

(photo of four of the five girls...nora was elsewhere looking at her shadow)

A talk with my mom

The Lord's batting 1000 here lately.  Not meaning to sound disrespectful at all, but amazed at God's involvement in my life at this very minute.  Prayed last night that my mom would contact me this week.  Yeah, I was chicken to make a move. I blame the chickens.  So guess who called this morning? Yep, my mom. I call that amazing.  Especially since it's been since March that she's called our house.

We had an interesting talk.  I could sense tension and a bit of anger on her part (especially when I brought up one of my older brothers' names...hardcore non-believer that he is, she always defends him), and thankfully after it was over, oldest daughter said I sounded nice, not feisty or anything.  Grateful for that.  Didn't want my tone to be uppity. I can definitely do uppity.

What I got from the conversation is that my relationship with my mom is broken.  She's chosen sides, but why there should be sides is a mystery to me.  Reckon there needs to be a bad guy.  Somebody to blame when things don't pan out.  Not quite clear on the why's and how's of the picking order, but finally am able to accept that things might never get better.  I feel a peace about all of it.  Don't like it, but feel the Lord gave me in several ways (which I'm not mentioning) that my mom has had a problem with Gary and me for a very long time.  Something tripped her trigger and brought it all to a head (is that one of those mixed metaphors?), and again, I'm not sure why.  I'm finally fine with it.  It's clear. I realize it might get sticky from time to time (you know how it is when you pick up stuff again), but for now, I'm good.  Closure is a blessing, I think, no matter the situation.  We have to get to a point where we let go and allow things to just be left alone.

Now hopefully I can wake up in the mornings and not dwell on this relationship.  It's sad, but I really think the Lord revealed to me today that things might not get better, and oddly to me, that's got to be okay. Strange, but okay.  A relief, let me tell you.  I've wanted to fix it, and it might just stay broken.

Repair isn't always possible.

Sunday night

My husband's workshop is experiencing a slow time.  A stop dead in the street slow time.  This occurs occasionally, and tends to either drop us more often to our knees, or as in my husband's case just now....makes him incredibly frustrated. I'm not sure all wives understand the depth of a man's despair when money's not coming in and he's not able to take care of his obligations.  It takes a man of very deep faith to not be affected by this sort of thing.  Or maybe a man who's super-human.  Not sure if it's even possible to not react when life pinches in this way.

Thankfully my husband is a strong Christian, but even so, this is hard for him to manage.  When he's done all he can possibly do and that doesn't generate income, it makes a person wonder.  Makes you look up at the Lord and ask why, or to question your motives or behavior.  To look at possible sin that might be standing in the way.  Well, this is where my head goes.  I come from a church past that was big on guilt, so I'm always ready and willing to take the guilt route and be to blame.  Glad to not be with that particular congregation anymore.  But Gary tells me it's not usually punishment that causes life to squeeze us so, sometimes the circumstances of the world we live in are a factor.  We know of many businesses related to what he does who've gone under.  A 75 year old Oriental rug company is closing...he did repair work for one of the owners the other day and got the story.  Furniture companies and Interior Designers are suffering as well.  And with Gary in the furniture build/repair line of work, it all ties together.

Anyway, I told Gary....look at this washing machine.  A perfect example of God's grace and mercy.  A gift that was over-the-top in meeting our needs that weren't even expressed.  Even as I type that I remember that I didn't tell our priest we couldn't afford a new machine, or that we couldn't repair it.  Just that I was washing the old-fashioned way.  Figured we'd manage somehow, just hadn't come up with how.  I never stated a specific need.

As I think about it, God's often answering our prayers even before we utter them.  Makes me shiver to think of it.  And if our priest is one of God's messengers, how cool to think of the Lord answering needed income prayers even now as I write this out.  End of the month...miracles are happening.  I'm going to be thankful beforehand.  Kind of exciting, once you think about it.  God Almighty caring about us, even how I wash the clothes.  Love that thought.

Washer love

Washer is chugging away, but chugging is likely the most inappropriate word for the quiet sound of it running.  And let me say this---we're used to buying the most cost-efficient appliances, with cheapest being the norm. Not all the time, but most of the time.  Our one self-employed income is very tight, and we're used to making do and being clever with our spending.

When our priest called me on Thursday to say they were gifting us a new washer, of course I was speechless, but when he began asking questions like 'high capacity' and 'energy efficient' and such, I didn't know what to say.  I'm used to basic-basic.

The washer got here this afternoon and it's running its first load.  It's gorgeous.  Top of the line and computerized and with an enormous inside, suitable for bathing the Pugs in.  Truly an over-the-top gift.  I stand amazed.  Really.  Amazed.

More chicken tales

Milk our black/white chicken, known as a Barred Rock, is the lead chicken.

Yesterday we had to round the five chickens up into their coop so the big dogs could come outside.  The coop is closed in with a door within a door at the top and there's a wired in/closed in section underneath that will eventually tie into a run.

I got 3 of the chickens in the top with the door closed, and Milk and Nora were in the bottom which is wired on one side so they can see out, and wood on two sides.  I was blocking the fourth side with a spare board.  All the squawking going on.  My goodness.  When the five can't see one another (and they can count), they get all hot and bothered, and since Milk is the leader, she's even worse.  While the dogs were doing their thing, I sat by the coop to keep order.  Well, what order there was that needed keeping. Mostly telling our shepherd, Opal, to get lost and to go sniff somewhere else.

Anyway, when the big dogs finally went back inside, I let Milk out first and was a bit slow (for her taste) in letting out the others.  I had this clear vision of Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music when she goes running across the screen with her arms out singing 'The Hills are Alive'.  That's what this chicken looked like. While they've not perfected their cluck yet, it sounds more goose-like now. She ran out of the bottom of the coop area wings back and raced to the middle of the yard, honking the whole way.  Julie Andrews to the T.  She could not figure out where her girlfriends were. They really do get so upset if they can't account for everyone.  Who knew?

"Another brother asked the elders, "What is humility?"  The elder answered, "To do good to those who do evil to you."  The brother asked, "Supposing a man cannot go that far, what should he do?"  The elder replied, "Let him get away from them and keep his mouth shut."

This might seem an odd quote to share, but it clicked with something in me.  Some of you know about the maddening relationship I have with my mom and two older brothers right now.  She listens to them like they're oracles, and I'm left out of the loop like the ugly stepchild.

My having to deal with this nonsense again (keep it tucked in the back of my mind most of the time) reared its head when fourth son called my mom to check up on her and she said she wanted us to come over on the Fourth of July for cake and ice cream.  But just a brief visit.  Not lunch or anything. Stressing the brief.

Note:  My mom hasn't called our house since March and that was because she fell and was stuck on her bedroom floor.  She's seen most of the kids only twice since Christmas.  Now it's June, and she lives just 3 miles away. I think she just decided for some odd reason to stop calling on the phone, and to require any contact to be made by us---for what reason, I have no clue.  Oh yeah.  Ugly stepchild.  I get it.

Probably it'd be beneficial if I went over to my mom's house and had a down-to-earth conversation with her.  Trouble is, she tends to deny problems when out-right confronted with them, so I end up being frustrated at feeling misunderstood.  And the air doesn't clear, but sort of stagnates.  Gary's told me pretty bluntly to not expect things to change unless some outlandish miracle happens.  He thinks I need to settle in my head that this is the way it is and get on with life.  I am the ugly stepchild, but he doesn't call me that.  Yet it's true.

But like I told the girls the other day, when your mom rejects you, that's the hardest rejection of all.  It gets to the basics of life.  The person who brought you into the world turns their face against you----that's a powerful emotion that gets stirred up, let me tell you.

It's caused a constant rash to be on the palms of my hands (eczema that gets me when I'm stressed) and just a weight of sadness that seems to follow me all the time.

But others have stuff that haunts them as well.  Fortunately I have a great husband and kids.  And chickens.  And pugs, but I won't add the big dogs 'cause they're just annoying.  Sort of like chicken hawks on four legs.  They do what them some chicken meat.

It's not allowing hardship to be the centerpiece of your life that's the difficult part.  To look the other way and live your life.  Hard, but do-able.  I have to realize I can't change other people, but have to do my very best with the Lord's help to have a good attitude.

Okay, probably more intimate sharing than necessary, but I've found that usually there's at least one person who identifies, and that makes everything worth it.  Leaning.  It's generally a very good thing.

(quote from Thomas Merton, trans., The Wisdom of the Desert:  Sayings from the Desert Fathers of the Fourth Century (New York:  New Directions, 1960)  Shared in The Abbey on the Hill by Carol Bonomo.

Blessings

Yesterday I emailed our priest about having to miss our Intercessory Prayer group, being in the throes of clothes washing madness.  Told him I was doing laundry the old-fashioned way.  We chatted a couple of more times, him asking what was wrong with the washer, etc.  Anyway, got a call from him this morning, and he asked if we'd settled the washer problem.  I told him no and he proceeded to tell me we'd be having a new one delivered. Whoa.

Saturday's the day.  Needless to say, any adrenaline I had in my system is long gone.

This is what a church family is all about.  Awed and exhausted with the magnitude of this gift.

Thought you should know.

Mid-week's adventures

~piglet, anastasia, and milk

Okay, so I shared about having a neighbor's washer to use until we get this situation figured out.  And Gary got into our washer last night, trying to jointly (with me online watching repair videos) settle what exactly is broken.  Came up empty, unless it's the motor or transmission---neither repair making much sense with the cost of a new one being about double the cost of the parts.  Huh. Dilemma.  Well, a dilemma if you get into that mindset, which I refuse to do.

And as a believer, I don't tend to think things are random.  The Lord allows things to enter our lives, whether we think they're beneficial or not. We just have to get it into our heads that it's for our good.  Again, huh.  And sometimes stuff just breaks.  There's not a metaphysical reason.  Life does that.  Period.

Middle daughter spent yesterday afternoon at our neighbor's house washing 4 loads of clothes.  With only one machine, you know how long that takes---about 45 min. per load.  After I brought her back home and unloaded the plastic bags and laundry basket, I got to thinking how much I didn't want to spend every other day doing that chore.  Takes too much out of the day.  Very tiring.

As a result, I got busy in fits and starts washing small do-able loads of clothes in the double kitchen sinks.  Very do-able.  Not long-term, I hope, but not the burden I visualized over the weekend.

For some reason, the Lord is slowing me down.  Way down.  The analogy of a 'chicken with its head cut off' is an apt one for me, with so many children going every-which-a-way, to have to do menial chores in even more of a menial way is somehow relaxing.

I wash the clothes, take the basket out (lined with a plastic bag since the basket has a tear in it), and sit down to watch the chickens for a while, then get up and wring out the clothes and hang them up.  Thankfully we're expecting much sunshine for a few days, so it all works out. Hand-wrung clothes do take about twice the time to dry, but who's in a hurry?  Certainly not me.

Anyway.  That's, pretty much, today.  It's all good.  Oh, and dinner will be fine as well.  Chicken and dumplings, but in the chickens hearing I'm calling it turkey and dumplings.  No need to offend.

Books in the pile

Back several months ago, I watched the Monastery series on YouTube....the one with (former) Abbot Christopher Jamison, who was in charge of running the abbey, and also was responsible for the well-being of outsiders who'd come for spiritual refreshment.  Excellent series, and I very much recommend it.  In the series, a book is recommended to the visitors and it's Humble Pie by Carol Bonomo....all about humility, and while that might sound like a dry topic, it really wasn't.  She's an excellent writer, in my opinion, and pretty much states the importance of putting others first.  Again, sounds dry, but isn't.

Anyway, I had some free Swagbucks at Amazon and bought another of her books, this one called The Abbey Up the Hill:  A Year in the Life of a Monastic Day-Tripper.  She goes through the year, telling of her journey of being an oblate at the monastery, and it reads wonderfully.  She's so down-to-earth.

One thing led to another and I got out my copy of The Rule of St. Benedict (also recommended in the video series, and which Bonomo outlines her book by), and my tiny old copy of The Imitation of Christ and of The Pace of a Hen by Josephine Moffett Benton.  What a rabbit trail, but really, it all runs together beautifully.

I really do have a point to make, and not that I'm a closet Catholic (which I'm not!).

As I said yesterday, these chickens are so Zen in their manner.  I'll sit outside and watch them...they just go about their business.  They eat and run off songbirds, and eat, and go the bathroom (a lot), and then lie in the sun and rest.  They dust bathe and then eat some more.  So soothing to watch, and since they shy at loud noises, I find myself being quiet and slow-moving around them.  You can't imagine what that does for a person's mood.  Being required to not jump up suddenly.  It's really magical.

On to my point.  Money's tight now, stuff's still broken, yet thankfully we have a washer to use at a neighbor's (I think I mentioned that before).  I read something in the Imitation of Christ last night about not wrestling against adversity or hard times but to try to get some good out of it.  It's easy to feel put upon when things are harder than normal.  I tend to feel punished and get all worked up.  It rarely does any good to be that way, and with this chicken life now, it's so nice to go out back, watch the chickens do their thing and let go of aggravations.

Sometime we'll have money to fix the washer, and the issues with the vacuum and weedeater will manage themselves as well.  Doesn't have to be the centerpiece of  my days, that's for sure.

Anyway, made my point and guess that was the motive here.  Take care and enjoy your day. :)

'When Mockingbirds Sing' by Billy Coffey

First off I'll say that all the reviews I've read for this book have been shining and complimentary.  Folks love this book.  Sadly, I don't.  I read it and afterward I was agitated, but had to do some thinking to figure out the reason.

Billy Coffey is a splendid story-teller, and he writes well too.  Sometimes a person who can tell a story is weak in putting it into words, but Coffey isn't that person.  His talent is clear.

In When Mockingbirds Sing we meet varied characters including a tortured little girl, Leah, who is painfully shy, has a consistent stutter and who rubs her thumbs to the extreme of making holes in them.  Her parents are non-church-goers, not a popular identity in the small town they've just moved to, and have a marital relationship that's rocky as well.  The story tells of Leah's newly-acquired talent of creating amazing paintings that are prophetic to the extreme.  Her muse is a being she calls The Rainbow Man, visible only to her.  The townspeople react in different ways to her gift, causing a wedge between her family and the rest of the town. They're outcasts without even trying.

The main pastor of the town, Reggie Goggins, might be the source of part of my angst in reading the book.  He's arrogant and self-righteous, thinking himself the answer to everyone's problems.  A pastor with a major chip on his shoulder.  I found reading about him so annoying as to make me angry.  Maybe he was too realistic.  Maybe that's a sign of excellent writing.  I don't know about that, but I couldn't stand him, that's certain.  And the repetitive nature of Leah's stutter was a frustration.  I felt the way about her stutter in the same way I cringe when writers try to mimic Southern accents.  And I'm from the South.

Chance are my review will be the lone dissenting one.  Again I compliment Coffey on having a true gift.  I just wish his talent didn't allow for such maddening characters.

(i received this book free to review from thomas nelson/booksneeze)

Chicken suite

Well, the five little chickens are spending their first night in the coop tonight.  Gary worked on it all yesterday afternoon, and after he got home tonight he put on the heavy-gauge wire to keep them in and the raccoons out.  No more Amazon cardboard box for them.  Nice for us as well, though it was a bit comical to admit to having a box of chickens in our bedroom at night.  I'll sort of miss their little chirping sounds as they got cozy before sleep.  An experience I won't soon forget.  Mind, I realize that we'll probably always have chickens now that we've made the commitment.  I see myself as a long-term chicken mama.  They are so Zen.  And we'll likely have baby chicks again at some point, but the coop is just right in terms of size for this brood.

When the least one saw the inside of it yesterday after Gary lined the floors with left-over vinyl flooring we had in the attic, she said, "Oh, they even have a kitchen!"  I love her humor.

We're entertaining the thought of cutting out pretty photos from magazines, gluing them on the walls and painting in frames.  'Course the chickens will likely peck the paper, but we could try.  Just nonsense. Chickens seem to bring out the crazy in a person.  They're just so silly.

Must go now.  Went out lunch with second son today and he got me to thinking about some things.  Concerns for third son as well as for oldest daughter and sweet Indian boyfriend were things we talked about.  My mothering heart is a bit worn feeling.  Time to rest.

(you can't tell the size of the chickens from the photo, but they're pretty large---bigger than pigeons, a good handful when you carry them---gary says they're more like 3-times the size of a pigeon, and they aren't through growing yet!)

Busted stuff

Life's funny.  Things break in a series, it seems.  Vaccum's busted, weedeater's busted, and now washer's busted.  Glad I think of them happening in threes, because we're there!

Relieved, though, that things like this don't twist up my knickers like they used to.  I remember several years ago Gary's Suburban having issues at his shop and I had to help him chain/pull it home with my truck and that's a distance of about 12 miles.  I was a mess when we got home.  Can't recall why it made me so nervous, but it was too much at the time.  If I had to do it today, it'd not be a big deal.  Same with jury duty.  I used to get so rattled thinking of doing that and when it actually happened, it was a wonderful adventure.  For me it was.  The guy up on trial didn't fare so well.  Consider most of the jurors were women and if I told you what he was up for, you'd know why he went for the deal and avoided a trial by jurors.  Justice is sweet.

Anyway, not sure about the washer.  It's not that old, and we've already replaced the timer and pump.  This might be more terminal with the motor, though.

Ho hum.  I do wash about 4 loads/day, and don't relish going to the whatchamacallit, where folks do their laundry, but that might be an adventure too.  It's been years and years since we've had to do that, but I'm not proud.  Just will have to gather up some quarters, I reckon.

It's all about balance, and putting things in perspective. And with Father's Day tomorrow, there's already enough on my plate.  It'll all get figured out.

Take care and enjoy your weekend. :)

Friday afternoon

• it's an absolutely gorgeous day today--low humidity, and the temperature isn't overly high at 87F.  
• been hot enough and humid enough lately to make me want to cry
• sweet indian boyfriend will be here for dinner
• daughter bought fixings for wrapped chicken, but i think i waited too late in putting it in the crockpot
• might have to put everything in my cast iron pot on the stove in a minute
• speed things up
• finished a book to review last night and it aggravated me so much
• the characters were so annoying, and i didn't enjoy it one bit
• began well, but thinking the review i write might be a bit testy
• the other reviews about it online are extremely favorable
• extremely
• darn it
• this has happened before---read a book, and then be the sole person who doesn't paint a favorable review
• tough to be me
• husband went over to my mom's to pick up a mower yesterday
• one of my brothers was there as well, visiting her
• the brother who's blocked my email
• remind me, how old is he?
• even hearing about them makes my hands break out in a rash
• had to take off all of my rings
• this has got to stop
• the silent treatment is an insane way to deal with folks
• again, tough to be me
• but---going out with oldest daughter tomorrow
• hoping to go to the hippie store to pick up the herbs i need for the next lesson in my herbal class
• enjoying it so much
• must keep focused on what brings me joy, and shove all other topics aside
• and, it's father's day weekend---must get gary into a holiday spirit of things
• enjoy your evening, and plan something fun

A play day for Thursday

Here I lie in bed, thinking about tomorrow.  As far as I know, there are no errands outside the house for me to perform.  If I have my druthers, it'll be a quiet day of puttering along, putting the tablecloth and lace back on the dining room table, and the old patterned tablecloth back on top of the refrigerator.  They got washed and hung out to dry last week, and have been folded up ever since.  I've been too hot to even think of decorating.  I want to re-arrange things a bit and put them in different places. Re-pot some begonias, and basically just shake things up a little.  Visual stimulation goes a long way in making me happy.

And it's been a frustrating series of days.  Our washing machine drains into the double kitchen sinks (done before we bought the house, by the owners who were fix-it types), and has been on the brink of overflowing for weeks off and on.  The boys would get on the roof, run the hose down the outlet drain and it'd be fine for a day, then clog up again.  Gary found a gizmo in his bag of plumbing tricks and got up there this evening. The sinks were good and clogged this time.  Finally, relief.  Now I don't have to watch the sinks when the washer spins out, and that's a very good thing.

Plus our vacuum bit the dust awhile back and I'm using Gary's shop vac.  Not recommended for the faint of heart.  Man, that beggar is hard to drag along.  Will be glad for the opportunity to get another home vacuum, but still, glad of having his to use.  Can't complain too awfully much.

Seems I spend an awful amount of time in simply maintaining the status quo around here.  Keeping the house reasonably decent, groceries in the cabinets and milk in the fridge.  When one part of the house breaks (the sink, for example), it puts a drain on the day.

The least one wants to sew tomorrow.  Awhile back, we got out felt and the two younger girls made small stuffed creatures, for lack of a better name.  They were sort of like monsters.  Anyway, while middle daughter enjoyed it, the least one had a real talent for it.  So tomorrow I'll let her create.  It's so easy for the day to pass with only chores completed, and nothing fun being accomplished.  Time to shake it up a bit.

Will try to get the basic chores done early, to leave the day for play.  I need it as much as the kids.  Must remember that.

A slow day...

~painting by eduoard vuillard

The air conditioner in our bedroom is sad at best.  It's small and inserted in the space over the window by my side of the bed. Since it's an electricity drain, I have the window up a few inches and a fan set in the corner of the room instead.  The ceiling fan spins as well.  It's enough.  And if I rarely move, I'm comfortable.

Yesterday was a teensy bit hotter, and with my hair in a braid, by the end of the day the woven ends of my hair were beginning to almost drip.  That dang sweat went down my hair all the way to the ends.  And with it just inches from reaching my waist, yuck.  I tend to get wild ideas of cutting it when summer hits, but with growing it out for several years, will keep trying to attain my goal of having it reach my waist, then stop.  It's on my bucket list, and requires no effort.  I mean, it's just growing hair.  How hard can that be?  And I only have about 4 more inches to go.  Grows slower the older I get.  Everything's slower the older I get.

I have goals for the inside of the house too, but the heat index of around 103F. doesn't inspire me much.  Yeah, the central air is on, but you can feel the humidity inside if you get too busy.

And a cake for first-born has to be baked before dinner, speaking of heat.  He turns 28 today.  Whoosh goes the time.  I was 26 when we had him, and living in North Carolina at the time.  Wonder what life would've been like if we'd stayed there?  Well, it still would've been hot, that's for sure.

Must go now.  Need to tidy up the bedroom a bit.  Not geared up for it, but what else is new!?

Enjoy your day.

Online thinking

After reading about the guy who's leaked all sorts of information about our personal stuff being tapped, I'm two ways in thinking about public blogging, etc.  On Facebook I try to lesson my personal information and photos, but still, they creep in when I'm tagged, or if I drop my guard.  Hard to remain anonymous.  And really, Facebook is a real trip for nosiness.  If you think about it, all your stuff is willingly handed out.  We just do it.  Freely and without hesitation.  I do as well, and am not criticizing anyone.  I'm just thinking a bit more about being so gullible.  Why do we trust folks so easily?  You almost have to not blog, not play with any online games or even get online at all to remain safe, or what we think is safe.

And here at Blogger, Google reigns.  I have a Gmail account, a Twitter account and one with Pinterest.  They can all connect whether I want them to or not.  I'm traceable.  Find my ISP and you find me.

Just makes me wonder, though, if I'm worthy of a trace.  I'm, pretty much, a nobody. I'm not a threat to anyone, though my conservative views might make me suspect by this administration.

If you think you can disinfect your life enough so as to be invisible, good luck with that. I do wonder, though, if it's worth making some small changes.  Are there blogging platforms that are less vulnerable?  Email accounts that give you more safety?  Ways to safeguard your computers so that you're not such a susceptible target?  I just don't know, but aim to look into it.

Monday's thoughts

Had to lean on the kids for a bill-paying today, and that's one thing that just rips me up when it has to happen.  Fortunately, it's not happened in quite awhile.  Yes, I've asked for grocery money, but for bills, no. Up until very recently, Gary's work has been consistent and enough for our needs.  It's just that from time to time it gets tight and they have to/need to help.  They're always good about it, never fussing (or so that we hear them) and give willingly.  I mean, they want electricity as much as we do.

It'd be more comfortable, however, if we were flush all the time, and this never happened.  But it does.

I was just telling Gary that it makes me feel so lousy to have to lean on the kids.  He agreed, but was trying to put it into perspective for me.  We don't hit them with rent, they're able to save a great deal of their earned money, and while we have been dire in the past, we really are in this all together.  A house requires funds to run it, and we work as a team.  I don't think any of the kids would dispute that.  And honestly, it's much cheaper for them to live at home.  Much.

Trouble is, and I've noticed this in my relationship with the Lord...what has gone on with my own parents has affected how freely I trust God, and how I feel about leaning. And with my mom lately moving in a strange direction, I've experienced some fresh spiritual troubles.  I find myself apologizing to the Lord, telling Him I don't want to doubt Him, but that it's hard to feel as if He really cares when my mom is behaving so negatively towards me/us.  It's the most bizarre situation I've ever been involved it. Talk about blind-sided.

The thing is for me is (and I've noticed this in others)...our relationship with our parents, whether it's good or bad, does often color our relationship with the Father. Unfortunately we often have to dig through lots of stuff before we can trust Him completely.  If our parents are unpredictable, given to silences, or cruel then sometimes we expect the same treatment from the Lord.  Not fair to Him, but it is what it is.  Quite often I expect a butt-whuppin' even when I realize I'm not in the wrong.  I just expect it.

But I have to remember that God is always faithful, and is always the SAME.  His silences are ones that draw me closer, not further away.  If He is quiet, it's a waiting quiet and always good.  That's a comfort.

Sunday afternoon

~great mustache, eh?

Bills due again.  They just do that, don't they?  I see ads online where folks are tempted with things that would never be on an ordinary wish list.  Do people really have extra money to throw around on things they really don't need and just want?  That amazes me.

Even now, Gary's finished work on 2 vapors this weekend, in order to do that very thing.  Tempt the vaping public to buy his work.  Former smokers are notorious for spending money.  You figure, plain old cigarette smoking is plenty expensive, so those who vape now and don't smoke tobacco are more willing than you'd think to part with some cash. Here's praying they do very soon. Today would be nice.

Anyway, hope you have a restful evening.  I'm about to get up from my prone position on the bed and tidy up the house a bit.  It was clean on Thursday night, but something apparently happened.  And sweet Indian boyfriend will be over later, so a go over would be a good idea.

Roundandround we go.

Daisy imitating Lassie

Have spent a lazy day.  Oldest daughter made a tiny grocery store run for me, wanting me to stay put, and that was a treat.  Watched the second Jason Bourne movie during naptime (this makes five times I've seen it now), and made hamburgers and fries for dinner.  Gary's been at his shop making vapors (see vaporwoods for his work), so it's just been me and the kids.  Lots of chicken-watching.

A funny thing.

Daisy the pug has been a bit under the weather today with her cough re-surfacing, but she's okay....still, she's wanted lots of holding and cuddling.  I was sitting out back after dinner with the girls, watching chickens, and Daisy and Violet were out there with us. The least one took Madelyn the chicken to the far side of the yard to see if she could find her way back to the others. Usually they call out to one another, and always stay in a group.  We were just trying to entertain ourselves.  Lame, I know.  Anyway, Madelyn kept circling, not knowing which way to go, and finally, after listening to us yell at her, Daisy jumped down from my lap and rounded her back.  In addition to that, when we were ready to bring the chickens inside for the night, Daisy did the same thing, rounding them up and getting them to the back steps.

A pug doing the work of a sheepdog.  Pretty wild.

Pinterest widget

A sidebar gadget to allow you to link to your Pinterest account.  Mine is nice, yes? Mouse over the Pinterest images in the sidebar and they get bigger.  Wonderful.  And relatively painless to install if you pay attention!  Courtesy of Code It Pretty.

Note:  If you go over to your Pinterest, and pin new photos, they won't immediately be visible at the gadget. It takes awhile.  Just saying that in case you do exactly that and go back to your blog and scratch your head as to why they're not updated yet.

Now, if I could discover a foolproof way to have all my text line up on the left, and not leave me with indentions here and there.  Then I end up having to go back over my posts, backspacing and republishing.  Anyone have a solution for this?  It's a real problem when I change fonts.  Before Blogger offered so many fonts, it wasn't an issue.

Wanna wrestle?

Still thinking on a conversation I had with a neighbor's daughter earlier in the week. The neighbor was in his nineties and passed away on January 1st, but last year, before he moved out of his house and to his daughter's place, he was broken into.  While he slept.  Don't like the sound of that.  Anyway, the guy who got in took his t.v., but nothing else.  The police called the daughter this week saying they'd caught the guy.  She texted me about it and asked if our sons knew the burglar.

What?

After my face turned red and I got all kinds of mad, I went ahead and asked the boys if they knew anyone by the name of  'such and such'.  Of course they said no, and just shook their heads at the ridiculous nature of the question.

I texted her that they didn't (nicely, I might add) and asked why she'd think they'd know him. He's not even from this part of town.  Surely she just wasn't thinking.  Personally I found it offensive that it might even briefly pass through her mind that our sons would put someone on the prowl for her dad's house.  I mean, really.  As far as I know, our children don't make a habit of getting cozy with criminals.

She answered me by saying she really didn't think they knew him, but wondered if the name rang a bell.  Same difference, if you ask me.

I get myself into so much trouble by being a hot-head.  I don't mean to be, but I get so riled up.  Now I don't seem to be as effective with blood kin, but put a person outside the family in my face, and I'll get right back at them.  I really am like an old mother hen with our kids.  As far as I know that's not a crime, but to ask such an offensive question really moves into the realm of rudeness.

Wednesday

Sometimes there's too much movement around here.  Folks walking in and out.  Doors opening and shutting.  Dogs barking.  Lots of barking.  Turn-style living.

When I'm quiet on the bed, like now, I get all jittery when constant heads peek around the corner at me.  And when Gary has the t.v. on and is talking back to annoying commercials or news.  And then when the kids will come down and bounce on the bed in order to tell me things (waterbed....bounce, bounce).

My nerves jangle around.  And it's late and three of the boys are out, one at work who I can account for, one who should be home by now from visiting with friends, and one more who's been gone for awhile and will get home whenever he gets home.  I just like knowing where everybody is and when they'll be back.  Doesn't seem too much to ask. They're generally good about that, but every so often, they leave me dangling.

Blah, blah, blah.

After dinner, we decided (well, Gary decided) to let the chickens free-range in the backyard. I was paranoid that they'd fly to the top of our 6' wooden fence, but my worries were for nothing.  We sat in chairs in the backyard and they all stayed together, not wandering more than 10' from us.  Chickens are just that.  Chicken. They'd flutter up on the sides of the coop-in-progress, but no further.  When our next door neighbor fired up his lawn mower, they all stood stock still, cocked their heads and listened.  Same when he turned on the weed eater. Freeze!  No flying up and no misbehaving.  And while we won't leave them outside loose by themselves ever, it is wonderful to be able to give them a bit more freedom.

And on the plus side---it is very soothing to watch them scratch and wander about. They always stay together.  Always.  Mesmerizing, really.  Just slows a person down, watching chickens do their chickeny thing.  I highly recommend it.

Oh, and for a laugh, get this.  Our priest got about 8 chickens a month before we did. And remember this, here in town you can't have roosters.  Now while Gary showed real wisdom in buying chicks that had already been sexed to assure us getting females, our priest wanted to take his chances.  Out of 8 birds, he ended up with 6 roosters!  I think that's hilarious and miserable at the same time.  The sad part is that he and his wife got really attached to them, but happily they were able to give 5 of the roosters to a friend from church who has a farm across the state line.  One final rooster is still with them, not leaving I don't think until he begins to crow.  Apparently Leonard (rooster's wonderful name) is a lap-sitter, and full of charm.  Guess you could say they served as foster parents for the 6 roosters.  Darn.  That must be hard. You do get so attached.

More of My OCD---Obsessive Chicken Disorder

Two steps forward and one step back.  That's the way the chickens scratch.  Two steps up...then one back to see what they scratched up.  Repeat.  Repeat again.  Do a bit of a wiggle when you shuffle back and forth.  It's a chicken's way.

And a common quote, or pair of quotes have been spinning in my head.  Something about not putting the cart before the horse, followed closely by not counting your chickens before they hatch.  Runs along the line of one I just made up..."Don't buy your chicks before the coop."  Or you will also have a large Amazon cardboard box in your bedroom at night (to keep them away from curious dogs during the wee hours). Funny thing is, I've grown accustomed to their night-time sounds.  The chicks make a brrrrr sort of sound when they get to brooding for the night.  Pretend your Spanish teacher is teaching you to trill your R's. Same  sound. This is after they shuffle for dominance in whichever preferred corner of the box is choice for sleep.  They pile up together. Every night.  You'd think they were killing one another by how noisy they get before they go, "brrrrr," but so far, we've not noticed any plucked feathers the next day.  We thankfully don't have any aggressive chicks.

Second son said that because the chicks are growing so quickly, we're going to take the screen off the top of the box one morning, and there'll be standing room only.  The chicks will be standing shoulder to shoulder, not able to move.  If that happens, guess we'll just hunt for another box.  Huh.

Obsessed with Chicks

I felt like such a redneck yesterday.  Maybe if you feel like a redneck, then you really aren't one.  But, really, sitting in the backyard watching the chicks was like being on an urban farm, I guess.  The backyard is a MESS with construction on the upcoming coop in full swing.  Piles of wood, tar paper, and plain old stuff made for a very red-necky backyard experience.  Plus we have little grass, mostly under the clotheslines, but still, it's not a very nice-looking place.  And all the dirt/mud is covered in dog prints.  Ugly.

And silly me.  I optimistically took out my embroidery to work on while watching the chickens out back, who'd been inside all morning.  FYI, they're barricaded in part of the impending coop when they go out there, but we can't afford wire yet, so they can fly to the top of the temporary walls.  That's about 3 feet up, and easily reached.  I never knew chickens could fly until this madness.  Bummer.  Anyway, there I was (everybody was gone....which never happens anymore) and I'd gotten the chicks all settled, and I was sitting in a chair at the open end of the run.  Well, Piglet and Nora were very happy with taking a dirt bath, and Milk and Madelyn were minding their own business, which mostly consisted of digging up worms, poking them and leaving them for dead.  But Anastasia was a pain. She kept trying to go under my legs to the rest of the yard, and she's FAST.  Kept having to put down my handwork and watch her.  So much for multi-tasking.

And today we decided that for sure our dog, Romeo, is living here on borrowed time. He was cute when he was a puppy....when oldest daughter brought him home as a stray from her job, where he was dumped, but he's a bit unteachable.  Not sure what's up with that.  Anyway, he was out back when the least one was, she came in for a second, Milk got over the barrier and off she went with Romeo in swift pursuit. Thankfully, Milk still lives, though she was shaken up a bit.

Yes, I'm afraid chickens trump the idiot dog called Romeo.  Sad, but true.  He needs owners who won't be yelling at him all the time.  And our shepherd, Opal, would bow down and worship us if we gave him away. That might be cool.

'Francis, Man of Prayer' by Mario Escobar

After reading Mario Escobar's book Francis, Man of Prayer to review, I'm left with one thought.  It reads more like a lengthy encyclopedia entry than a biography.  I realize that historical information is important so that we can understand where Pope Francis has come from, yet the end result isn't personal, but more factual.

Don't get me wrong.  I like this new pope.  He seems sincere and as if he really wants to work with the people.  He's very engaging.  But to me he was displayed in the book almost as infallible.  He's human like the rest of us, and maybe I'd have to be Catholic to appreciate the honor bestowed on popes.

Still, for a book that was obviously whipped into shape at amazing speed, the information is helpful. Because of that, I would have been surprised if it had had a more personal edge to it, so a follow-up book after Pope Francis has proved himself might be advisable.

(i was given this book free to review from thomas nelson/booksneeze)

Saturday night chicken tales

...and sometimes Madelyn pulls out your hair

I can hear the chicks in their huge cardboard box up in the kitchen enjoying the macaroni and cheese I just gave them.  Their second helping.  They think it's yummy. They also like fresh bell pepper, though turn up their beaks at bananas.  At the very top of the delicious list is fresh roaches.  I know.  Disgusting.  You should hear/see them race around playing keep away.  I try to hurry though the room when they're in their box (with a screen on the top to deter escapees) because they'll look up and start this mournful chirp.  It actually sounds like they're saying, "Hay-ulp.  Hay-ulp." (they're not old enough to cluck yet) Always makes us laugh, but feel guilty as well.  The little beggars are always open for treats, and sometimes I just open the fridge and grab something.  Noodles and white rice are favorites as well.  They do eat chick feed, but love it when we feed them table scraps, which surprisingly to me, is allowed and encouraged by chicken folks (of which we are laughingly a part).

With the heavy rain we've had the last couple of days, Gary's not been able to coop-build.  But the chicks have been able to play outside anyway, getting into puddles and just meandering around.  We keep them barricaded pretty well, and usually the least one keeps watch.  There are hawks about.

Take care now and enjoy your weekend. Tomorrow will be church and then helping fourth son make homemade mint chip ice cream.  Chillin' as well.