You will find as time goes on I talk alot about my kids. I have three, four if you count the husband. Alec is the oldest and 20, then Ellie who is 19 and last but not least Meredith 9 going on 30.
Right now it's the beginning of the Candy Season and Meredith is ready for one of those youthful activities we call Trick or Treating.
Remember Halloweens of the past? I was talking with someone this morning and he commented that make sure that it's memorable for the kids. In my years of dressing up and spooking around, we had it so easy. Pillowcases because we never could find a large enough bag for the haul. Jumping out of bushes and stealing the other kid's candy. Or just the fact that we could eat what we received as soon as we walked away for the door. The popcorn balls that were handmade, fresh apples, rice krispee treats or the guy who worked at the bread bakery and gave out fresh mini loaves of bread.
Nowadays-we have to look for pin holes in the wrapped, nothing homemade, xray the bag looking for something sinister. Kids don't go out alone, no staying out till all the porch lights were off. What have we come to?
We went to the FFA National Convention last week. Alec was getting his American Degree. It's really hard to get and only 3000 kids got it this last year. 490,000 members nationwide and as of Saturday morning 51,000 members and guests were in Indianapolis for the Convention. WOW!
I had attended 5 different conventions, all in Kansas City, over my FFA career and subsequent chaperon details. I forgot how much I missed it. It still amazes me the qualities that these kid's poses. They are genuinely nice, courteous, polite, they have fun but don't disrupt, they show their FFA and American pride but welcome anyone with open arms. I can't wait for Meredith to get her blue jacket. But for now, I need to figure out how to display Alec's three!
I also forgot how proud I am of what all my kid's accomplish. In the day to day world, some things become routine-oh yeah, you're off to do this or that or we have to go watch this play, do this activity. It's always great to step back and be proud of what your kids have become.
And why do we as parents do all this? Paint their faces, spend hours at the sewing machine for a costume for one night or drive hours to watch them walk across the stage for 30 seconds of glory? Because a little bit of us is in all of them. We get to be proud, we get to be parents, damn, we have had to grow up but a little bit of our childhood is still alive in our kids. I'm happy with who they are, they are their own person, but as my dad says-there's a little bit of me in each of them. Or as he keeps reminding me, it's fun to watch me get what I gave him growing up-can you hear his evil laugh now?
So have a bountiful Candy Season and be a kid for awhile! Enjoy it the warm weather while you can--snow is around the corner.
Later gators~~
C
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tomboys
Did you know that you can play Go Fish for money? Kind of similar to poker, at least I think so. I walked into Meredith's afterschool program, signed her out and then walked over to a table where she was surrounded by boys. As I tapped her on the shoulder, she was in the process of cleaning house-yes you read this right-she had taken the boys to the cleaners with the Monopoly money and a wild game of Go Fish. Last night on the way home from the kennel club meeting, she was going into great depth about the rules for the game and how it got started. I was totally lost and all I could do was giggle. The imagination of a child is a wonderful thing. Did I also tell you she's a good luck piece when we do raffles? Never mind, that's another post.
The running joke in our house is that Meredith is a 30 year old trapped in the body of a 9 year old. She's pretty proud of it too. She is more then happy to share all the knowledge she gains from eavesdropping on the conversations people have--those people thinking that she has no clue. Warning-she usually has more clues then most adults. In many ways she's her father's daughter-it's almost impossible to live in this house at times-I have the first addition encyclopedia of useless knowledge(aka David) and then the 2nd addition(Meredith) in residence!
We have lots of conversations in the 'burb. Captive audience maybe? The radio is broke so otherwise you drive in silence. Last night was no exception. The question posed was why in the world do I always find you playing with the boys? All 7 or 8 of the boys at the afterschool program are at one of the tables doing legos or matchbox cars or playing Go Fish for fake money. Right in the middle is this petite blond girl. The other girls are at the opposite end of the table or at the other end of the room. Meredith is a big hit with the boys-she has a huge remote control monster truck. Yes it was a Christmas present and yes, she was the one who had it on her list for Santa. Anyway, why does she play with the boys? Her reply-the girls are brats. Plain and simple. They don't like to get dirty either. But you know boys can be brats at times too--they just get over it. That last comment, well, I about lost it. Lucky we were coming to a stop sign so I didn't laugh ourselves off the road.
She's a tomboy at heart. Loves to dress up, but you do have to remind her to keep her legs together when sitting in a chair. She loves mud, picking dried weeds and presenting them as a lovely flower arrangements-I have several vases filled with those at home. Rather wear her flipflops to the creek then her wellies. She and her big brother regularly travel to that creek in search of creatures. Though the girlie girl appears when it comes to touching those creatures-she hates bugs or anything slimy. I have a fish tank full of gold fish and one lone sun fish rescued from the creek one afternoon. Along with snails and baby crawfish. We did have the frogs from one recent adventure but when they started to jump out and the dogs tried eating them, I suggested it was a perfect time for relocation. One afternoon it was the capture of the snapping turtle-there's a story for another day-that's a David adventure.
What it comes down to is that I hope we all have a little tomboy in us. And as far as girls being brats--take a lesson from the boys and Meredith, just get over it!
Off to the National FFA convention to see Alec get his American Degree. Have a great weekend!
Later gators~~~~
C
The running joke in our house is that Meredith is a 30 year old trapped in the body of a 9 year old. She's pretty proud of it too. She is more then happy to share all the knowledge she gains from eavesdropping on the conversations people have--those people thinking that she has no clue. Warning-she usually has more clues then most adults. In many ways she's her father's daughter-it's almost impossible to live in this house at times-I have the first addition encyclopedia of useless knowledge(aka David) and then the 2nd addition(Meredith) in residence!
We have lots of conversations in the 'burb. Captive audience maybe? The radio is broke so otherwise you drive in silence. Last night was no exception. The question posed was why in the world do I always find you playing with the boys? All 7 or 8 of the boys at the afterschool program are at one of the tables doing legos or matchbox cars or playing Go Fish for fake money. Right in the middle is this petite blond girl. The other girls are at the opposite end of the table or at the other end of the room. Meredith is a big hit with the boys-she has a huge remote control monster truck. Yes it was a Christmas present and yes, she was the one who had it on her list for Santa. Anyway, why does she play with the boys? Her reply-the girls are brats. Plain and simple. They don't like to get dirty either. But you know boys can be brats at times too--they just get over it. That last comment, well, I about lost it. Lucky we were coming to a stop sign so I didn't laugh ourselves off the road.
She's a tomboy at heart. Loves to dress up, but you do have to remind her to keep her legs together when sitting in a chair. She loves mud, picking dried weeds and presenting them as a lovely flower arrangements-I have several vases filled with those at home. Rather wear her flipflops to the creek then her wellies. She and her big brother regularly travel to that creek in search of creatures. Though the girlie girl appears when it comes to touching those creatures-she hates bugs or anything slimy. I have a fish tank full of gold fish and one lone sun fish rescued from the creek one afternoon. Along with snails and baby crawfish. We did have the frogs from one recent adventure but when they started to jump out and the dogs tried eating them, I suggested it was a perfect time for relocation. One afternoon it was the capture of the snapping turtle-there's a story for another day-that's a David adventure.
What it comes down to is that I hope we all have a little tomboy in us. And as far as girls being brats--take a lesson from the boys and Meredith, just get over it!
Off to the National FFA convention to see Alec get his American Degree. Have a great weekend!
Later gators~~~~
C
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
The dogs
Unless you have had a chance to wander through the website of Foggy Bottom, you might not have a clear understanding of what exactly my chaos is. Take a moment and do wander. My mind does it alot, but that's a story for another day. For a small glimpse into my world, let's talk about this morning, early early this morning for example.
We built a new house about 4 years ago. Not really built, it's a modular stick built kind. Love it too. We designed it to compliment our lifestyle. It's got an open floor plan, easy to move around in. I'm claustrophobic, so lots of windows. And still not a curtain on one of them. We are on 40 some acres, if someone is serious about peeping in, they have to get past Max and the ducks first. Anyway, our bedroom has these large windows on two sides-west and north. David and I can lay in bed and watch the horses in the pasture, northern lights in the winter and the moon set in the morning. And that's where we start at....
What do they call it, a waning moon? Whatever it is, it's huge by the time it hits the western horizon. I can walk about the without running into anything because the house is just illuminated by the moonlight. There is of course nothing that can be done about stepping on the roge bone or slimy toy, but that's life in Chaosville. Anyway, I went to bed last night with great hopes of sleeping soundly till the alarm went off at 6ish. Like many people, I wake up before the alarm, but always ask God to let it be just a minute before the alarm, not 1/2 hour or more. But the moon had other ideas. I woke up at 4am this morning, to be greeted by the largest moon in history. Orangish, round and very very bright. Now I'm blind, not really, but without my contacts, everything is just a blur. So the scene is set. Me seeing only haze, super bright headlight like beam shining in the window, and once I moved, that was it - it's all over.
So how many dogs do you normally sleep with? I had a person come and spend the weekend with us a while back. Her reaction of - they just keep coming out of nowhere-- is an understatement. The younger dogs of the house sleep in crates in the study area right next to the kitchen, that includes Meredith's little toy dogs-the pom and two brussel griffons. Alec has his collies and Farmer Fred sleeping with him and last but not least is the herd in my room. We used to have a nice full sized bed-nothing wrong with that. Cozy for a married couple, a little tight with a lab sleeping in the bed with you and down right unbearable with anything else added. We received a king sized bed awhile ago from someone who thought we were nuts not to have one. It's okay, just means more room for the dogs in the bed and they usually plant themselves right between the hubby and I. I wave good night to him from my side and roll up in the blankets. Right now, with David traveling, Meredith likes to sleep with me. Not bad, unless you don't like a 10 yr old child rolling on you at night, slapping you in the face as she flops around, sleeping cross ways on the bed and then consider her dogs that have to come sleep with us. So now here's the picture-two adult collies-one rough and one smooth, three adult female cardigans, and the couch slug(the lab). Not including the three dogs that sleep in crates-one who eats the mattress pad and remotes, the one who sleeps on top of you if you let me out at night and the large German Shepherd who is scared of the three girls in the room. Yes now you're ready for what happens when the moonlight wakes me up at 4am.
David gets up at 4:30 on most mornings. I sleep until he russles me up at 5:30 or 6. But this time around it's 4am, I'm looking forward to 2 more hours of sleep and he's out of town. As soon as my eyes snap open to the glare of the headlight moon, it's like a horror movie. You know the one with the psycho doll, his head swivels around and his eyes open. Well that's what the dozen or so eyes attached to the chaos crew do also. I try as best as I can with a bad back to pretend to just roll in my sleep but it doesn't work. They know I am awake. And then, of course, I gotta go to the bathroom. At that instant, the whole room errupts. Legs flying all over, bouncing on the gifted king sized air bed and using it as a springboard to get to the floor before I can stand up. Remember I only see in shadows right now, so I don't see the couch slug still laying on the floor, whom I trip right over. I'm falling towards the dog crate which contains Moose, a fairly large cardigan boy. What I can see is the whites of his eyes glowing as I get closer to impact. But saved by the bell, as Claire the rough collie sweeps past, bouncing me in the opposite direction. Feeling like a pinball in a very weird machine, I make it to the bathroom. But now it's not without an audience, all of them wanting to know if it's their turn to go out?
Needless to say, they didn't get to go out, which one of them voiced their opinion on that by creating a puddle in the bathroom. And needless to say, I didn't get back into that lovely REM sleep but just dozed, waiting to spring to action once again, just seconds before the alarm went off at the correct time.
But guess who slept through it all-darn kids.
So there is a small glimpse into my chaos. Just wait, it only gets better. Someday I'll tell you about the bedpost, the concussion and the couch slug.
Later gators--
C
We built a new house about 4 years ago. Not really built, it's a modular stick built kind. Love it too. We designed it to compliment our lifestyle. It's got an open floor plan, easy to move around in. I'm claustrophobic, so lots of windows. And still not a curtain on one of them. We are on 40 some acres, if someone is serious about peeping in, they have to get past Max and the ducks first. Anyway, our bedroom has these large windows on two sides-west and north. David and I can lay in bed and watch the horses in the pasture, northern lights in the winter and the moon set in the morning. And that's where we start at....
What do they call it, a waning moon? Whatever it is, it's huge by the time it hits the western horizon. I can walk about the without running into anything because the house is just illuminated by the moonlight. There is of course nothing that can be done about stepping on the roge bone or slimy toy, but that's life in Chaosville. Anyway, I went to bed last night with great hopes of sleeping soundly till the alarm went off at 6ish. Like many people, I wake up before the alarm, but always ask God to let it be just a minute before the alarm, not 1/2 hour or more. But the moon had other ideas. I woke up at 4am this morning, to be greeted by the largest moon in history. Orangish, round and very very bright. Now I'm blind, not really, but without my contacts, everything is just a blur. So the scene is set. Me seeing only haze, super bright headlight like beam shining in the window, and once I moved, that was it - it's all over.
So how many dogs do you normally sleep with? I had a person come and spend the weekend with us a while back. Her reaction of - they just keep coming out of nowhere-- is an understatement. The younger dogs of the house sleep in crates in the study area right next to the kitchen, that includes Meredith's little toy dogs-the pom and two brussel griffons. Alec has his collies and Farmer Fred sleeping with him and last but not least is the herd in my room. We used to have a nice full sized bed-nothing wrong with that. Cozy for a married couple, a little tight with a lab sleeping in the bed with you and down right unbearable with anything else added. We received a king sized bed awhile ago from someone who thought we were nuts not to have one. It's okay, just means more room for the dogs in the bed and they usually plant themselves right between the hubby and I. I wave good night to him from my side and roll up in the blankets. Right now, with David traveling, Meredith likes to sleep with me. Not bad, unless you don't like a 10 yr old child rolling on you at night, slapping you in the face as she flops around, sleeping cross ways on the bed and then consider her dogs that have to come sleep with us. So now here's the picture-two adult collies-one rough and one smooth, three adult female cardigans, and the couch slug(the lab). Not including the three dogs that sleep in crates-one who eats the mattress pad and remotes, the one who sleeps on top of you if you let me out at night and the large German Shepherd who is scared of the three girls in the room. Yes now you're ready for what happens when the moonlight wakes me up at 4am.
David gets up at 4:30 on most mornings. I sleep until he russles me up at 5:30 or 6. But this time around it's 4am, I'm looking forward to 2 more hours of sleep and he's out of town. As soon as my eyes snap open to the glare of the headlight moon, it's like a horror movie. You know the one with the psycho doll, his head swivels around and his eyes open. Well that's what the dozen or so eyes attached to the chaos crew do also. I try as best as I can with a bad back to pretend to just roll in my sleep but it doesn't work. They know I am awake. And then, of course, I gotta go to the bathroom. At that instant, the whole room errupts. Legs flying all over, bouncing on the gifted king sized air bed and using it as a springboard to get to the floor before I can stand up. Remember I only see in shadows right now, so I don't see the couch slug still laying on the floor, whom I trip right over. I'm falling towards the dog crate which contains Moose, a fairly large cardigan boy. What I can see is the whites of his eyes glowing as I get closer to impact. But saved by the bell, as Claire the rough collie sweeps past, bouncing me in the opposite direction. Feeling like a pinball in a very weird machine, I make it to the bathroom. But now it's not without an audience, all of them wanting to know if it's their turn to go out?
Needless to say, they didn't get to go out, which one of them voiced their opinion on that by creating a puddle in the bathroom. And needless to say, I didn't get back into that lovely REM sleep but just dozed, waiting to spring to action once again, just seconds before the alarm went off at the correct time.
But guess who slept through it all-darn kids.
So there is a small glimpse into my chaos. Just wait, it only gets better. Someday I'll tell you about the bedpost, the concussion and the couch slug.
Later gators--
C
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Fences
Why are fences so important? For years or decades or even milleniums, we put up fences and boundries or in recent years we have upgraded to walls. It's not even phyiscal ones anymore either. We have walls of shame, walls of secrecy and walls of hate. Makes you wonder or at least me wonder what kind of society we have become.
Recently the local radio station that I listen to during the day has been playing over and over again an ad for those underground fences for pets. You listen to the poor people and their sad story about how Fluffy got out the open gate that the gas man accidently left open. The line about "please say hi to my dog when you see him" just about makes me gag. If I had the money I would do a rebuttal ad about taking responsiblity for your animal and no "invisible" fence is going to make any difference. We are such a disposable society and love to push the blame on someone else for what ever happens. No amount of fencing is going to fix that.
What is the saying, good fences make for good neighbors? But we don't put up fences for that reason. We put up fences for defence of what is ours. You crossed the line - get over on your own side. It's the invisible fences in our daily lives that create the bad neighbors. The hysteria over catching a disease or someone's religion or the differences in our cultures.
We leave out on 40 some acres. It goes without saying that we have fences, lots of them. David is contantly building and fixing fences, it's like a ritual for him. Part of the horse pasture has high tension fence. It's nice fence but a pain to maintain. And part of it is falling into the creek. Weekly ritual to go out and wind up more the wire, string more wire and reset posts. So isn't that what we do with our emotional fences? We are in a constant state of repair. Putting up one here, changing the type of fence here or walking the boarder making sure that nothing unwanted gets in. But never taking the time to sit back and realize why we put up that fence in the first place. Out of fear really, fear of being labeled as different, not going with the flow or fear of being the same maybe?
What are your fences? Is it time for a repair or time to tear them down?
Later gators~~
C
Recently the local radio station that I listen to during the day has been playing over and over again an ad for those underground fences for pets. You listen to the poor people and their sad story about how Fluffy got out the open gate that the gas man accidently left open. The line about "please say hi to my dog when you see him" just about makes me gag. If I had the money I would do a rebuttal ad about taking responsiblity for your animal and no "invisible" fence is going to make any difference. We are such a disposable society and love to push the blame on someone else for what ever happens. No amount of fencing is going to fix that.
What is the saying, good fences make for good neighbors? But we don't put up fences for that reason. We put up fences for defence of what is ours. You crossed the line - get over on your own side. It's the invisible fences in our daily lives that create the bad neighbors. The hysteria over catching a disease or someone's religion or the differences in our cultures.
We leave out on 40 some acres. It goes without saying that we have fences, lots of them. David is contantly building and fixing fences, it's like a ritual for him. Part of the horse pasture has high tension fence. It's nice fence but a pain to maintain. And part of it is falling into the creek. Weekly ritual to go out and wind up more the wire, string more wire and reset posts. So isn't that what we do with our emotional fences? We are in a constant state of repair. Putting up one here, changing the type of fence here or walking the boarder making sure that nothing unwanted gets in. But never taking the time to sit back and realize why we put up that fence in the first place. Out of fear really, fear of being labeled as different, not going with the flow or fear of being the same maybe?
What are your fences? Is it time for a repair or time to tear them down?
Later gators~~
C
Monday, October 22, 2007
Some days
Ever have those days where you swear you were going to be productive and realize at the end of it, you're no further then you were when the alarm went off this morning? Today is one of those days for me. I want to be Garfield for the day - roll back into bed, pull the covers up and hang a sign that says-Wake Me On Tuesday.
I might have more to post later, but for the moment I thought I might share this link. Sent to me by a friend and oh how I can relate.
http://www.katewerk.com/sbfh.html
If you have dogs, you'll really enjoy her comments. Or you have pets, you can relate on some level. But if you don't have either, then you are just glimpsing a small portion of what my world is like on a daily basis. Welcome to Controlled Chaos!
Later gators--
C
I might have more to post later, but for the moment I thought I might share this link. Sent to me by a friend and oh how I can relate.
http://www.katewerk.com/sbfh.html
If you have dogs, you'll really enjoy her comments. Or you have pets, you can relate on some level. But if you don't have either, then you are just glimpsing a small portion of what my world is like on a daily basis. Welcome to Controlled Chaos!
Later gators--
C
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Marriage
David's off again on one of his stupid work trips. Not that he hasn't gotten to see some wonderful places, but this wasn't in his job description some 12 or so years ago nor in the marriage vows-Do you take him for richer, for poorer, in travel and staying home?. Right now though, these trips are so inconvenient. I mean it's not just that he's gone, but it's what he misses. Such as the start of the fabled Candy Season.
Yes there is really a season for that. Homecoming week always ends not with the football game or dance, but the parade for us. Candy lines the streets, literally. Hordes of sugar crazed kids diving for that tootise roll or blowpop or those super sour sweet tarts. Eddie(the dog, least you get the wrong impression) joined me this year as I substituted myself in the game for the missing David. Meredith of course knows just the place to sit,which corner of the route that is. How far to go in the street, or how far a panicked mom lets her(heaven's, the marching band might run her over). But we also as parents, try to make it a learning and growing experience. Okay now you're thinking-not to eat too many sweets, safety in the street, etc. Actually, gave me a chance to really see my little girl grow up some.
A mom and her young daughter were sitting next to us. Eddie managed to get some quality suck up time with them, but there was this cute little girl, hugging her candy bucket, not quite sure what was going to happen. As the marching band goes past, the older kids-you know, the ones with all the previous years experience(I can just see there resume now under hobbies-running for candy at homecoming parades), run up and literally snatch it out of mid air with supersonic reflexes. Poor girl didn't have a chance. So after a few floats went past, I hollered at Meredith-only thing you can do as the pom pom shaking drowned out a normal yell, to come here for a moment. I kindly whispered in her ear that she might help out that little girl with her candy harvest. Heck, most of what we get goes uneaten, just sitting as a trophy on the table to this year's hunt. I was so proud as I watched Meredith grab and then divide what she got between the two of them. Or she would jump in front of a thrown piece on the ground so that the little girl behind her had a chance to stoop down and get it herself. Few times she also would step back suddenly to let the flying candy drop in a certain candy bucket instead of attempting that mid air flying catch being demonstrated by all the older kids.
What I went away with was the sense that I was loosing my little tomboy(that's another story) and seeing a young lady emerge. Sucks that they grow up, doesn't it?
Back on to the marriage part of this whole story. Ever heard of the couples that boast of never being apart for a day in 57 years of marriage. OMG, I don't think I could do that. Don't get me wrong, every time that David leaves, I'm lost. I count the days till he gets back. But on the other hand, there's no waiting in the AM to get in the shower, it's dinner for two not twelve every night and I don't have to throw away any wet paper towels sitting on the kitchen sink. Those couples without a day apart, let's talk here. She more then likely didn't work out of the house. He worked his 9-5 job. Once the kids were old enough for school, she sent the entire family away for the day. Okay, yes she did have chores-laundry, cleaning, sewing. But let's face it, she had an 8-10 hour vacation from her hubby every single day of the work week. Don't tell me she didn't look forward to it? When the hubby had a day off for what ever reason, didn't she feel like he was under her feet, disrupting the natural flow of life as she knew it?
I honestly think that the apart time, makes things together better. Granted after he's gone for 2 weeks, it's hard to get out of that rhythm of just the two of us. We get a little short with each other and but then notice that we do tend to take each other for granted. Maybe that's where the being apart comes in handy. We see in the clear light of day that we aren't as independent as we thought. Is it cliche to say that the oneness of marriage makes us whole. In finishing each other's sentence or thought or anticipating the other's next move, that we are the two pieces of the puzzle that creates the finished product. Beyond being hokey here, marriage is about finding that person who fulfills us. And I am ever so thankful that a certain guy started hanging around the garden center making up excuses to come by and see me. Life certainly would not have been the same without him.
Gotta run, Tuli and her faithful son Moose, found a hole in the fence and gotta go rescue the cows next door. Ah herding dogs.......
Later gators---
C
Yes there is really a season for that. Homecoming week always ends not with the football game or dance, but the parade for us. Candy lines the streets, literally. Hordes of sugar crazed kids diving for that tootise roll or blowpop or those super sour sweet tarts. Eddie(the dog, least you get the wrong impression) joined me this year as I substituted myself in the game for the missing David. Meredith of course knows just the place to sit,which corner of the route that is. How far to go in the street, or how far a panicked mom lets her(heaven's, the marching band might run her over). But we also as parents, try to make it a learning and growing experience. Okay now you're thinking-not to eat too many sweets, safety in the street, etc. Actually, gave me a chance to really see my little girl grow up some.
A mom and her young daughter were sitting next to us. Eddie managed to get some quality suck up time with them, but there was this cute little girl, hugging her candy bucket, not quite sure what was going to happen. As the marching band goes past, the older kids-you know, the ones with all the previous years experience(I can just see there resume now under hobbies-running for candy at homecoming parades), run up and literally snatch it out of mid air with supersonic reflexes. Poor girl didn't have a chance. So after a few floats went past, I hollered at Meredith-only thing you can do as the pom pom shaking drowned out a normal yell, to come here for a moment. I kindly whispered in her ear that she might help out that little girl with her candy harvest. Heck, most of what we get goes uneaten, just sitting as a trophy on the table to this year's hunt. I was so proud as I watched Meredith grab and then divide what she got between the two of them. Or she would jump in front of a thrown piece on the ground so that the little girl behind her had a chance to stoop down and get it herself. Few times she also would step back suddenly to let the flying candy drop in a certain candy bucket instead of attempting that mid air flying catch being demonstrated by all the older kids.
What I went away with was the sense that I was loosing my little tomboy(that's another story) and seeing a young lady emerge. Sucks that they grow up, doesn't it?
Back on to the marriage part of this whole story. Ever heard of the couples that boast of never being apart for a day in 57 years of marriage. OMG, I don't think I could do that. Don't get me wrong, every time that David leaves, I'm lost. I count the days till he gets back. But on the other hand, there's no waiting in the AM to get in the shower, it's dinner for two not twelve every night and I don't have to throw away any wet paper towels sitting on the kitchen sink. Those couples without a day apart, let's talk here. She more then likely didn't work out of the house. He worked his 9-5 job. Once the kids were old enough for school, she sent the entire family away for the day. Okay, yes she did have chores-laundry, cleaning, sewing. But let's face it, she had an 8-10 hour vacation from her hubby every single day of the work week. Don't tell me she didn't look forward to it? When the hubby had a day off for what ever reason, didn't she feel like he was under her feet, disrupting the natural flow of life as she knew it?
I honestly think that the apart time, makes things together better. Granted after he's gone for 2 weeks, it's hard to get out of that rhythm of just the two of us. We get a little short with each other and but then notice that we do tend to take each other for granted. Maybe that's where the being apart comes in handy. We see in the clear light of day that we aren't as independent as we thought. Is it cliche to say that the oneness of marriage makes us whole. In finishing each other's sentence or thought or anticipating the other's next move, that we are the two pieces of the puzzle that creates the finished product. Beyond being hokey here, marriage is about finding that person who fulfills us. And I am ever so thankful that a certain guy started hanging around the garden center making up excuses to come by and see me. Life certainly would not have been the same without him.
Gotta run, Tuli and her faithful son Moose, found a hole in the fence and gotta go rescue the cows next door. Ah herding dogs.......
Later gators---
C
Friday, October 19, 2007
Mud
It's been raining, just about nonstop for the last couple of weeks. Needless to say, that creates mud. If you are reading this from the Southern US, please come and take some of this! You guys are in a drought and we are in a monsoon. Creeks are overflowing, roads washing away and the MUD-how do you make that a four letter word because it's used like one in our house.
You can hear the horses walking through it, that sucking noise as they pull their hooves out of it. Clydesdale feet are not made for mud, their feathers aren't the flowing white that you see on the Budweiser horses. The hair is dry and broken off, colors ranging from off white, to light tan to that ugly chocolate mud brown. Just not a pretty sight.
The dogs, well that's another story all together. How do they manage to walk out the door, do their business then bring the front yard back inside with them? Never mind, that's about as obvious as the 9 year old tomboy going to school today in her pajammas. Gotta be a reason, just haven't heard it yet.
We can talk about the different types of mud. The kind that you make those glorious pies with as a child. Meredith's are decorated with clovers, oats, weed seeds and the random worm or bug. Then we have that pretty mud created when you water the newly planted garden for the first time. Deep black and nuturing for your new plants. But the kind around this week is cold, plain grocery sack brown with an odor of death. You know that decaying plant material smell. Temps have been in the low 40's to upper 60's. Perfect decomposing weather. I'm just sick of it. Come to think of it, everyone in the house is sick of it. Wiping several dozen muddy paws, boots on and off each time you run out the door. The carpet needs cleaned where the paws missed the rug. To top it off, everyone is stir crazy.
What is it about mud? Is it the color, the smell, the texture? I don't have a clue but was does cause me to be curious is our change in reaction to it as we grow old. Or is that we get older, mature or just grow up? As a child it's something to relish. Mom picked up the kids from the sitter one day, many moons ago for me. Out the door they went, she still talking to the sitter. Less then 30 seconds and both were jumping and sitting in the puddle outside the door. They of course had smiles on their faces-pure joy. I can just see it, then turn and see my mother's expression-utter dismay and trying to figure out how to get them home without getting the inside of the car trashed. So as we grow older, we in turn learn to hate mud.
After my recent incident chasing a way ward cow back into it's rightfull pasture, I'm all for not growing up in respect to mud. Seems there is a spot in the creek that when you think you are stepping into a shallow spot, actually eats your leg alive. Yeapers, up past my knee, filling the wellies up too. And all I could do was laugh. Well, everyone in attendance did-including the tomboy who knew the exact spot it happened at (she was up at the house watching the gate).
I'm all for not growing up, but for this week, MUD is a fourletter word in our house.
Later gator---
You can hear the horses walking through it, that sucking noise as they pull their hooves out of it. Clydesdale feet are not made for mud, their feathers aren't the flowing white that you see on the Budweiser horses. The hair is dry and broken off, colors ranging from off white, to light tan to that ugly chocolate mud brown. Just not a pretty sight.
The dogs, well that's another story all together. How do they manage to walk out the door, do their business then bring the front yard back inside with them? Never mind, that's about as obvious as the 9 year old tomboy going to school today in her pajammas. Gotta be a reason, just haven't heard it yet.
We can talk about the different types of mud. The kind that you make those glorious pies with as a child. Meredith's are decorated with clovers, oats, weed seeds and the random worm or bug. Then we have that pretty mud created when you water the newly planted garden for the first time. Deep black and nuturing for your new plants. But the kind around this week is cold, plain grocery sack brown with an odor of death. You know that decaying plant material smell. Temps have been in the low 40's to upper 60's. Perfect decomposing weather. I'm just sick of it. Come to think of it, everyone in the house is sick of it. Wiping several dozen muddy paws, boots on and off each time you run out the door. The carpet needs cleaned where the paws missed the rug. To top it off, everyone is stir crazy.
What is it about mud? Is it the color, the smell, the texture? I don't have a clue but was does cause me to be curious is our change in reaction to it as we grow old. Or is that we get older, mature or just grow up? As a child it's something to relish. Mom picked up the kids from the sitter one day, many moons ago for me. Out the door they went, she still talking to the sitter. Less then 30 seconds and both were jumping and sitting in the puddle outside the door. They of course had smiles on their faces-pure joy. I can just see it, then turn and see my mother's expression-utter dismay and trying to figure out how to get them home without getting the inside of the car trashed. So as we grow older, we in turn learn to hate mud.
After my recent incident chasing a way ward cow back into it's rightfull pasture, I'm all for not growing up in respect to mud. Seems there is a spot in the creek that when you think you are stepping into a shallow spot, actually eats your leg alive. Yeapers, up past my knee, filling the wellies up too. And all I could do was laugh. Well, everyone in attendance did-including the tomboy who knew the exact spot it happened at (she was up at the house watching the gate).
I'm all for not growing up, but for this week, MUD is a fourletter word in our house.
Later gator---
First times a charm, maybe?
I figured since I was running out of space on my website, why not add a blog to it. I'm not always at home and can edit the newsletter page as thoughts come, so this is the next best thing!
Hoping that you enjoy the random thoughts, rambling comments and that I cause you to think when I write something.
On the other hand, well, I bet I make most of you giggle at the chaos.
Later gator-
Hoping that you enjoy the random thoughts, rambling comments and that I cause you to think when I write something.
On the other hand, well, I bet I make most of you giggle at the chaos.
Later gator-
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
