I couldn't be happier....
Right dear?
I couln't be happier...
Right here!
I have come to find that there is only one reason for a farm: work. If it ain't working, it ain't a farm. The cows work. The dogs work. The house works. The people who live in the farm house work. The clothes that we choose have to work. There is something about the farm that makes me feel like I am in the right place. I guess it is because I have a role to play. I am a part of something that is useful and productive just by living. I feed and water cows and dogs. I pay bills. I cook and clean. I play outside to train the dogs. I walk the pasture with John to count cows (if one's missing, well, something is just wrong). I am part of and useful. If for some reason something is not working, like a cow, then something is wrong. It is of no use and it is no longer a part of the farm: cow goes to market or is buried. Hopefully, that won't happen to me. There is something fulfilling about being a part of a farm. Well, being a part of anything really. It makes me feel good inside. I recognize this is more about God than anything. When I am full, generally I am connected with God. In this crazy marriage that is completely based in the Holy Spirit, I recognize that the contentment comes with that primary basis. I wouldn't feel so good without it. Sundays have a part at this farm too. They are the day we go to church, and to be frank, I think the farm knows that is what Sunday is.
This new life that I am living, is working into me. It is working into my heart.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
There's nothing that can stop you from being populer--lar,
LAAAAA-LAAA-LLLAAAAA-LAAAAA
I have several blogs in me and haven't had time to get them out so I am determined to write all of them today since it is my day off. I don't know that I will get them all out in one publishing, but I am going to get at least one of them out.
Cowboy Boots
I see little girls in pink and red cowboy boots with their church dresses on Sundays at the Sautee Trail Cafe where we have breakfast with the boys all the time. It is apparent that their mother's know to pick their battles and red or pink cowboy boots are not a real battle to fight. The little girls are so happy to be in the boots they don't even notice the frills of the dress or the curls in thier hair. They just like the boots. They are little cowgirls just like their Daddy's are cowboys. Mom is just glad they got to church on time and are grateful not to make Sunday brunch but rather have it at the cafe.
I don't remember if I had a pair of cowboy boots or not. I can remember wanting some but not so badly that it made a difference. I guess that is a difference of growing up in the city and the country. I wanted to be like my parents and I can't say that I have ever seen either of my parents in a pair of cowboy boots. It seems like being a cowboy would be a good costume for halloween though. It was that type of thing. Cowboys weren't real. They were something that happened in "the Old West." They sure didn't happen on Lakeshore Drive in Avondale Estates or in Stone Mountain at Howell Mill Rd or on Ponce De Leon and College Avenue. That just wasn't something I knew much about. I have never had a reason to want boots.
When I went to college we used to go to the country bar called Mama's which I found ironic in its placement because it was located smack in the middle of the hood. I am not sure if it is still open, my guess is yes. It was an amazing place. Big as a warehouse. On Thursday nights they gave free line dance lessons and Vicki and I would go to learn the line dances. I can remember going back on Fridays a couple of times to dance and drink. It was great fun. I don't know how much I drank because dancing was available. It was hard though when there were so many people because then you'd get asked to dance by men on the slow dances and that for some reason was so uncomfortable. I was not good at that. But I do remember boots. I mean LOTS of boots. The folks there had pride in their boots, their jeans, their skirts, their outfits, their button down shirts, their look. It was all about being country and having pride in the fact that you were country. It was really about the boots because they made it easier to dance. I wanted boots so badly. I came close enough though by having these short healed pretend boots that worked enough to dance. I wanted a pair so badly and couldn't afford them to save my life. I was in college. I was drinking. I wanted and was denied!
At my last job, I finally found a good enough reason for this city gal to buy a pair of boots. One was because I had the money and two was because of image. What more reason does a city girl need than image? I had been in these mountains now for six years and boots were common to a lot of folk up here and while they all required boots for most of their lives, but not me. I was still a city slicker and living on the square in my city apartment. But image for a country concert--I had to look the part. So I bought a pair of really nice denim jeans, a pair of new boots by Dan Post and a Stetson. Now, I would have never chosen the pair that I picked. I went through pair after pair with this gal in the store. I don't know the first thing about boots and she was just trying to help me make up my mind. She knew it didn't make any difference which pair because it would be for looks. I put on the pair that I bought and this man walked around the corner and looked at the boots on my feet and smiled. In a slow, comfortable pace (which at the time I was not in, I had an overwhelming sense of urgency), he stated in that family oriented, southern draw: That's a nice boot--with that, I bought them. The guinuine way he made the statement, I knew I had stumbled onto something good.
The concert was great and I loved the look I had created. Somethings I didn't know about boots that I found out quickly was that they have to be broken in. I broke them in all right. I had more blisters on my feet the next morning, I almost couldn't walk. Since that time, I mostly couldn't find a reason not to wear them. I loved the feel of them. I loved the way they went with every outfit. They made this city slicker into a cowgirl. Although, I didn't really have the experience to be a cowgirl, but I felt like one. I love them. I really wanted to wear them under my wedding dress, but I am sure that my Mom would have stroked, instead I wore them to the dress rehearsal. Hey they matched my outfit!
I have had people come up to me and ask to see the boots that I have on because they recognize the quality of the boot. They ask if it is a Dan Post boot. Who would know? Not me. They will give me this look...it is like how would someone like you have such good taste in country? Country, like I know anything about country? NO. I know people who tell me the truth and that man told me the truth: it was a nice boot.
When I moved to the farm, Gilleland, I thought I was moving to a house. Turns out I was not moving to a house, I was moving to the country. Things at a farm are different than a house. For starters, there is not a driveway or a place to park, cows will spy on you all the time and mowing the front yard is an all week affair. I found more use for my boots than I have ever imagined. For example, it is really hard to get to my car in heels, but in my boots, oh, what a good thing. My love for my boots grew the most when it rained for two days straight here not long ago. I wore my boots and a pair of black pants one day for work and the next day was my day off so I wore the denim boot cut jeans I bought for the concert. There were lots of errands to run and I was out in it, I tell ya. When I finally tracked through the rainy, muddy spot that I park my car and into the mud room, I stripped out of my soaking jeans. I found that the whole bottom six inches of the jeans were just wet, not dry, just wet. Once I was into my snuggly pair of flannel pj pants, I realized, my feet were dry and warm. Not a single bit of my feet were cold or wet. The boots had protected my feet. They kept the jeans from soaking me to the bone. I was warm without having to do anything. I threw the jeans in the dryer and smiled. I was warm. Gotta love boots when they are working. Out I went again to do more things, but I wasn't worried because I had on my boots and knew I would stay dry and warm.
I have found other good uses for them like when I go out into the pasture or out into our yard for that matter. They are protective and comfortable. I had no idea I would enjoy my cowboy boots as much as I have. God knew what he was doing when He moved that man to come around the corner lean on the boot rack and smile. I have never seen that man again, but I know that if I ever buy another pair of boots, it will be on his recommendation. My boots are broken in and are teaching me what it means to be country. I love my boots and I am beginning to love being country.
LAAAAA-LAAA-LLLAAAAA-LAAAAA
I have several blogs in me and haven't had time to get them out so I am determined to write all of them today since it is my day off. I don't know that I will get them all out in one publishing, but I am going to get at least one of them out.
Cowboy Boots
I see little girls in pink and red cowboy boots with their church dresses on Sundays at the Sautee Trail Cafe where we have breakfast with the boys all the time. It is apparent that their mother's know to pick their battles and red or pink cowboy boots are not a real battle to fight. The little girls are so happy to be in the boots they don't even notice the frills of the dress or the curls in thier hair. They just like the boots. They are little cowgirls just like their Daddy's are cowboys. Mom is just glad they got to church on time and are grateful not to make Sunday brunch but rather have it at the cafe.
I don't remember if I had a pair of cowboy boots or not. I can remember wanting some but not so badly that it made a difference. I guess that is a difference of growing up in the city and the country. I wanted to be like my parents and I can't say that I have ever seen either of my parents in a pair of cowboy boots. It seems like being a cowboy would be a good costume for halloween though. It was that type of thing. Cowboys weren't real. They were something that happened in "the Old West." They sure didn't happen on Lakeshore Drive in Avondale Estates or in Stone Mountain at Howell Mill Rd or on Ponce De Leon and College Avenue. That just wasn't something I knew much about. I have never had a reason to want boots.
When I went to college we used to go to the country bar called Mama's which I found ironic in its placement because it was located smack in the middle of the hood. I am not sure if it is still open, my guess is yes. It was an amazing place. Big as a warehouse. On Thursday nights they gave free line dance lessons and Vicki and I would go to learn the line dances. I can remember going back on Fridays a couple of times to dance and drink. It was great fun. I don't know how much I drank because dancing was available. It was hard though when there were so many people because then you'd get asked to dance by men on the slow dances and that for some reason was so uncomfortable. I was not good at that. But I do remember boots. I mean LOTS of boots. The folks there had pride in their boots, their jeans, their skirts, their outfits, their button down shirts, their look. It was all about being country and having pride in the fact that you were country. It was really about the boots because they made it easier to dance. I wanted boots so badly. I came close enough though by having these short healed pretend boots that worked enough to dance. I wanted a pair so badly and couldn't afford them to save my life. I was in college. I was drinking. I wanted and was denied!
At my last job, I finally found a good enough reason for this city gal to buy a pair of boots. One was because I had the money and two was because of image. What more reason does a city girl need than image? I had been in these mountains now for six years and boots were common to a lot of folk up here and while they all required boots for most of their lives, but not me. I was still a city slicker and living on the square in my city apartment. But image for a country concert--I had to look the part. So I bought a pair of really nice denim jeans, a pair of new boots by Dan Post and a Stetson. Now, I would have never chosen the pair that I picked. I went through pair after pair with this gal in the store. I don't know the first thing about boots and she was just trying to help me make up my mind. She knew it didn't make any difference which pair because it would be for looks. I put on the pair that I bought and this man walked around the corner and looked at the boots on my feet and smiled. In a slow, comfortable pace (which at the time I was not in, I had an overwhelming sense of urgency), he stated in that family oriented, southern draw: That's a nice boot--with that, I bought them. The guinuine way he made the statement, I knew I had stumbled onto something good.
The concert was great and I loved the look I had created. Somethings I didn't know about boots that I found out quickly was that they have to be broken in. I broke them in all right. I had more blisters on my feet the next morning, I almost couldn't walk. Since that time, I mostly couldn't find a reason not to wear them. I loved the feel of them. I loved the way they went with every outfit. They made this city slicker into a cowgirl. Although, I didn't really have the experience to be a cowgirl, but I felt like one. I love them. I really wanted to wear them under my wedding dress, but I am sure that my Mom would have stroked, instead I wore them to the dress rehearsal. Hey they matched my outfit!
I have had people come up to me and ask to see the boots that I have on because they recognize the quality of the boot. They ask if it is a Dan Post boot. Who would know? Not me. They will give me this look...it is like how would someone like you have such good taste in country? Country, like I know anything about country? NO. I know people who tell me the truth and that man told me the truth: it was a nice boot.
When I moved to the farm, Gilleland, I thought I was moving to a house. Turns out I was not moving to a house, I was moving to the country. Things at a farm are different than a house. For starters, there is not a driveway or a place to park, cows will spy on you all the time and mowing the front yard is an all week affair. I found more use for my boots than I have ever imagined. For example, it is really hard to get to my car in heels, but in my boots, oh, what a good thing. My love for my boots grew the most when it rained for two days straight here not long ago. I wore my boots and a pair of black pants one day for work and the next day was my day off so I wore the denim boot cut jeans I bought for the concert. There were lots of errands to run and I was out in it, I tell ya. When I finally tracked through the rainy, muddy spot that I park my car and into the mud room, I stripped out of my soaking jeans. I found that the whole bottom six inches of the jeans were just wet, not dry, just wet. Once I was into my snuggly pair of flannel pj pants, I realized, my feet were dry and warm. Not a single bit of my feet were cold or wet. The boots had protected my feet. They kept the jeans from soaking me to the bone. I was warm without having to do anything. I threw the jeans in the dryer and smiled. I was warm. Gotta love boots when they are working. Out I went again to do more things, but I wasn't worried because I had on my boots and knew I would stay dry and warm.
I have found other good uses for them like when I go out into the pasture or out into our yard for that matter. They are protective and comfortable. I had no idea I would enjoy my cowboy boots as much as I have. God knew what he was doing when He moved that man to come around the corner lean on the boot rack and smile. I have never seen that man again, but I know that if I ever buy another pair of boots, it will be on his recommendation. My boots are broken in and are teaching me what it means to be country. I love my boots and I am beginning to love being country.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
How do you know that you live in a small town?
When you go to the movies and the owner of the theatre sees you to say, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you in six months!"
When your girlfriend cancels your date because her chicken house alarms have been going off all day.
When you understand the difference between a frost and a hard frost.
When you judge planting according to a blackberry winter.
When you say things like, the amount of fogs in August are the amount of snows in winter, and you are right.
When you describe where you live according to the river: I live of Town Creek, btw.
When it is acceptable to be late to work because you overslept due to the calves being weaned from their mothers and crying all night.
When there is no question to missing work to take a family food because there is a death in their family.
When the big night in town is to go to the auction.
When people think that driving more than ten minutes is too far unless you are going "into town".
When the guy who drives the tow truck is the guy who gets you out of jail because he is the family friend that does that kind of thing.
When the best time of the year is when the rodeo is in town.
When everyone knows you your mom, your grandmother and your great grandmother and you are related to half the county. (In case you are wondering, I had a customer who came in today and went to church with my Great Aunt Nenny and knew well my cousins Witt, Bruce, George and Lane--small town.)
When you go to the movies and the owner of the theatre sees you to say, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you in six months!"
When your girlfriend cancels your date because her chicken house alarms have been going off all day.
When you understand the difference between a frost and a hard frost.
When you judge planting according to a blackberry winter.
When you say things like, the amount of fogs in August are the amount of snows in winter, and you are right.
When you describe where you live according to the river: I live of Town Creek, btw.
When it is acceptable to be late to work because you overslept due to the calves being weaned from their mothers and crying all night.
When there is no question to missing work to take a family food because there is a death in their family.
When the big night in town is to go to the auction.
When people think that driving more than ten minutes is too far unless you are going "into town".
When the guy who drives the tow truck is the guy who gets you out of jail because he is the family friend that does that kind of thing.
When the best time of the year is when the rodeo is in town.
When everyone knows you your mom, your grandmother and your great grandmother and you are related to half the county. (In case you are wondering, I had a customer who came in today and went to church with my Great Aunt Nenny and knew well my cousins Witt, Bruce, George and Lane--small town.)
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
We are hand in hand,
The wizard and I!
It occurs to me that I haven't said too much about living on a farm. The farm is how John and I refer to our home. Papa Bud & Mama Jean aka Albert and Martha Taylor, who own the farm refer to it as the Honey House because Papa Bud used to make honey in the barn. There are approximately 80 acres that the farm sit on. These acres house the farm house built in 1845, the barn that was built after that, about 32 hefers, 16 calves, 1 bull, 1 horse, 1 donkey and two dogs. There is a joke that Papa Bud names the cows. He does, actually name the cows, however John doesn't know their names so he calls them hamburger, ribeye and new york--strip for short. They are beef cows. There are two ways for the cows to make it off the farm, first, they can be a bull or they can be mean. If the calfs are not broken of their tempermant then they go off the farm. No mean cows here. Nope. There is one other way, now that I think about it, they can be old. Otherwise they stay on the farm. The horse is John's and although the horse, Legend, is 23, he is healthy. The vet said he will live to be 40. Who knew that horses lived that long? The bull is an interesting creature. He is not easily excited, unless he smells rye or pumpernickle bread. He will eat your arm for rye and pumpernickle bread. The jack ass is for purely working reasons. An unfortunate side effect of living in the middle of a pasture is coyotes. The Jack Ass is allergic to dogs. By this I mean he will stomp a dog. He has no use for them. Every once in a while Red Dog will get too close to him and get kicked, but as a result, no coyotes bother the heard. In case you are curious coyotes is pronounced KI-yot-s. Not ki-yot-ees. No such thing. The two dogs are Red Dog and Baby. Red Dog is a sooner dog. The sooner dead the better. He is a tough mix of hound and charpee. When he barks, the bark is so lound in his head that he barks and shakes the ringing out of his ears. Wooooof shake. Wooof shake. It is very funny to watch. He is a very old dog. Every day John and I come home expecting him dead. He has been shot three or four times through his back hind leg when he wanders off the property. It is amazing he is alive. Then there is Baby. Baby is a black and white austrailian sheperd, a cattle dog. Her favorite thing in the whole world is to out wit cows and swing from their tails. However she is a naughty dog and has gone off and gotten knocked up. She will be having puppies around the new year. She is the smartest dog I have ever dealt with as far as dogs go. She heals, sits and all for a little loving. Amazing.
The farm is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is completely surrounded by National Forrest. There is nothing but God's beauty in 360 degrees. Amazing. I love living here.
The wizard and I!
It occurs to me that I haven't said too much about living on a farm. The farm is how John and I refer to our home. Papa Bud & Mama Jean aka Albert and Martha Taylor, who own the farm refer to it as the Honey House because Papa Bud used to make honey in the barn. There are approximately 80 acres that the farm sit on. These acres house the farm house built in 1845, the barn that was built after that, about 32 hefers, 16 calves, 1 bull, 1 horse, 1 donkey and two dogs. There is a joke that Papa Bud names the cows. He does, actually name the cows, however John doesn't know their names so he calls them hamburger, ribeye and new york--strip for short. They are beef cows. There are two ways for the cows to make it off the farm, first, they can be a bull or they can be mean. If the calfs are not broken of their tempermant then they go off the farm. No mean cows here. Nope. There is one other way, now that I think about it, they can be old. Otherwise they stay on the farm. The horse is John's and although the horse, Legend, is 23, he is healthy. The vet said he will live to be 40. Who knew that horses lived that long? The bull is an interesting creature. He is not easily excited, unless he smells rye or pumpernickle bread. He will eat your arm for rye and pumpernickle bread. The jack ass is for purely working reasons. An unfortunate side effect of living in the middle of a pasture is coyotes. The Jack Ass is allergic to dogs. By this I mean he will stomp a dog. He has no use for them. Every once in a while Red Dog will get too close to him and get kicked, but as a result, no coyotes bother the heard. In case you are curious coyotes is pronounced KI-yot-s. Not ki-yot-ees. No such thing. The two dogs are Red Dog and Baby. Red Dog is a sooner dog. The sooner dead the better. He is a tough mix of hound and charpee. When he barks, the bark is so lound in his head that he barks and shakes the ringing out of his ears. Wooooof shake. Wooof shake. It is very funny to watch. He is a very old dog. Every day John and I come home expecting him dead. He has been shot three or four times through his back hind leg when he wanders off the property. It is amazing he is alive. Then there is Baby. Baby is a black and white austrailian sheperd, a cattle dog. Her favorite thing in the whole world is to out wit cows and swing from their tails. However she is a naughty dog and has gone off and gotten knocked up. She will be having puppies around the new year. She is the smartest dog I have ever dealt with as far as dogs go. She heals, sits and all for a little loving. Amazing.
The farm is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is completely surrounded by National Forrest. There is nothing but God's beauty in 360 degrees. Amazing. I love living here.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
All I've ever wanted was a love to be true,
Not enough to by,
Enough to see me through....
Today has been a tough day. This morning came early. It came earlier than I was done sleeping. While I had yesterday off which is unusual and ended up doing completely different things than planned, I still managed to wake early without due amount of sleep today. I find it interesting that Carter's non-litugical sermon was on the gospel read in all the Episcopal Churches across the Atlanta diocese. While Carter's sermon was on giving to the chuch, ours was on God's ability to hear a pure heart. In Sunday School class this morning we took a closer look at the passage in Mark and compared it to a passage in the old testament, Kings, about Elijah and a widow and her faith to make bread for him and have oil for eight days. They were both widows. They both gave of their faith because they had nothing left to give. They were obedient to God and gave with a faithful heart knowing that He would take care of them. The ulitimate sacrafice. Thusly leading into the ultimate sacrifice of Christ for sins. This was quite a piece to swallow. At the same time, John and I were trying to figure out what to pledge to the church--not because that was the sermon but because that is what we are doing as a new couple in the church. We decided to give some and then keep some to give to other organizations with similar Christian aligned purposes.
From there, we went to breakfast with the boys without going home to change and from there we went out to the farm (WHICH WAS A WRECK) because my father-in-law was coming to cook for us. I cleaned the house as the boys showed up and the kitchen was slowly destroyed from having a big meal cooked in it. Before the boys showed up and after Papa John showed up my John got a very disturbing phone call. So now I am worried about the phone, worried about the fact that three giants are about to descend (that would be the boys) and worried that my house is a complete wreck. Once I came to a place where the house would just have to do and the phone call went out of my head and the giants arrived, I settled down a little. We used the new crystal sweet tea goblets and the new spode italian china. There were things missing like linens and things to sit a casserole dish on the tabe with, but there was family and laughter and love. There was no laughter however once the giants began to eat. There was no noise at all for that matter. There was some scaping of plates once they were done, but that was about it. As quickly as it started it ended--not before I got a picture of everyone together. They hate pictures, but they will have to get over it in my house! Whooshe out the door they went...hugs, good to see you and gone waving down the driveway. There was nothing left except a kitchen full of dirty dishes and a beautiful sunny day.
I don't know if this is what God means by sacrafice, but that is how I felt once the day was done. I felt like I had given every thing I had. At least that is true emotionally. Family while being a great thing can be totally exhausting. I don't do well under unplanned events either. Not to mention the fact that my house is so not in order. I mean physically and mentally and emotionally. I was totally not ready for that. I was totally stressed out.
I am ready for God to just take away the stress and give me some easy down time to work in the house and take care of me for a little while and then it happened.
John and I went and walked the property. This is quite a venture. There are about 80 acres. We didn't walk the whole thing, but we walked to the river and walked up the mountain to see the 360 degree view. It was breath taking. The cows just stared at us like what are these humans doing in our yard? But it was calming, welcoming and healing. The stress left. The day closed with a beautiful sunset like the close of hard days often do.
If your tired of being lonely,
Beat up and confused,
Dariling there's only one thing you can do,
Come with me,
Well I got what you need...
Not enough to by,
Enough to see me through....
Today has been a tough day. This morning came early. It came earlier than I was done sleeping. While I had yesterday off which is unusual and ended up doing completely different things than planned, I still managed to wake early without due amount of sleep today. I find it interesting that Carter's non-litugical sermon was on the gospel read in all the Episcopal Churches across the Atlanta diocese. While Carter's sermon was on giving to the chuch, ours was on God's ability to hear a pure heart. In Sunday School class this morning we took a closer look at the passage in Mark and compared it to a passage in the old testament, Kings, about Elijah and a widow and her faith to make bread for him and have oil for eight days. They were both widows. They both gave of their faith because they had nothing left to give. They were obedient to God and gave with a faithful heart knowing that He would take care of them. The ulitimate sacrafice. Thusly leading into the ultimate sacrifice of Christ for sins. This was quite a piece to swallow. At the same time, John and I were trying to figure out what to pledge to the church--not because that was the sermon but because that is what we are doing as a new couple in the church. We decided to give some and then keep some to give to other organizations with similar Christian aligned purposes.
From there, we went to breakfast with the boys without going home to change and from there we went out to the farm (WHICH WAS A WRECK) because my father-in-law was coming to cook for us. I cleaned the house as the boys showed up and the kitchen was slowly destroyed from having a big meal cooked in it. Before the boys showed up and after Papa John showed up my John got a very disturbing phone call. So now I am worried about the phone, worried about the fact that three giants are about to descend (that would be the boys) and worried that my house is a complete wreck. Once I came to a place where the house would just have to do and the phone call went out of my head and the giants arrived, I settled down a little. We used the new crystal sweet tea goblets and the new spode italian china. There were things missing like linens and things to sit a casserole dish on the tabe with, but there was family and laughter and love. There was no laughter however once the giants began to eat. There was no noise at all for that matter. There was some scaping of plates once they were done, but that was about it. As quickly as it started it ended--not before I got a picture of everyone together. They hate pictures, but they will have to get over it in my house! Whooshe out the door they went...hugs, good to see you and gone waving down the driveway. There was nothing left except a kitchen full of dirty dishes and a beautiful sunny day.
I don't know if this is what God means by sacrafice, but that is how I felt once the day was done. I felt like I had given every thing I had. At least that is true emotionally. Family while being a great thing can be totally exhausting. I don't do well under unplanned events either. Not to mention the fact that my house is so not in order. I mean physically and mentally and emotionally. I was totally not ready for that. I was totally stressed out.
I am ready for God to just take away the stress and give me some easy down time to work in the house and take care of me for a little while and then it happened.
John and I went and walked the property. This is quite a venture. There are about 80 acres. We didn't walk the whole thing, but we walked to the river and walked up the mountain to see the 360 degree view. It was breath taking. The cows just stared at us like what are these humans doing in our yard? But it was calming, welcoming and healing. The stress left. The day closed with a beautiful sunset like the close of hard days often do.
If your tired of being lonely,
Beat up and confused,
Dariling there's only one thing you can do,
Come with me,
Well I got what you need...
Friday, November 10, 2006
Nothing's quite so clear now
Do things, fight things,
Feel you've lost your way?
I feel like I have had the rug yanked out from underneath me. Two Friday's ago everyone who is close to me was at my side treating me like a princess. That is a PRINCESS. As in no matter what I said I was right. I had seven ladies in waiting and a queen mother hovering making sure I was getting my way. I wasn't marrying a prince, rather a prince mixed with a knight in shining armor. I couldn't believe it. It was amazing. Everyone was there.
Earlier last month I bough tickets for a production of Into the Woods. I mean what better tickets can you get? It is the best of the best productions. I wasn't sure how best of the best the acting would be, but I was willing to find out. John was working so I asked out girlfriend set #1 and once it was time to go to he musical, they back out. Ask back up girlfriend and daughter, they decide to go to Family night...erg. Call every girlfriend in the phone that lives in the tri-county area. Nothing. Call my brother! Ah, He'll go with me. It is too late for him to be able to get there and be on time. Who would know? No one will go. This happened once before with a ticket to see BBKing at Chastain. No one will go. I have to go alone.
I am alone.
Why does this bother me so much? I used to go to the movies by myself. I used to eat dinner by myself. Why am I so worked up over a couple of folks saying no thank you? They are not rejecting me. They aren't taking their love away from me. They aren't breaking up with me. They are just saying, sorry Charlie, I am not available. Erg.
Two weeks ago they were ladies in waiting. This week they have their own lives. What the hell happened? I still have a tiara!
So I go alone. I am alone.
You decide, but
You are not alone.
Believe me,
No one is alone.
I gave my two tickets that I already paid for to the box office to see if they can sell them. They can't. A refund requires too much paper work which is why all sales are final. So I give her the tickets anyway and tell her to give them to someone who could use them since I have to pay for them no matter what.
I go in and sit down. I read through the playbill. Hmm... broadway experience, hmm...teaches drama at the college level...sounds good. The director gets up at the beginning to raise more money. And then introduces the musical conductor in the pit and ....ONE-ce upon a time, I wish...There is my friend. He is on stage. He is Jack, the dreamer, pouring over milky white. He was in Godspell with me and is a total dreamboat of a kid. He is also a tremendous performer. Ahh...I am comfortable. This is pretty good...AGONY!!How it cuts like a knife!!!! Yeah those guys were BROADWAY WORTHY, they were so good. They stole the show from the Broadway veteran who was the witch. She was good too. Really good. The baker just didn't cut it with the rest of the cast. He had the super lead and dropped it in his singing. His voice didn't have the power and unbalanced the whole cast. Every other performer matched up with him was a stronger voice except the narrator/mysterious man/his dad who was worse at singing than him. He never sang out of tune, he just couldn't do the big voice like the rest of them. I was worried about Will playing Jack because there are some big voice parts in Giants in the sky, but he has been coached and instead of pushing the notes and making the slide of key, he was actually singing them and brought the volume with them naturally. I was very impressed with his growth. The baker's wife, cinderella, red riding hood and the witch all had GREAT voices, however Repunzel was the best. She sounded like one of Dad's girls. Unfortunately, she was not as stong an actress as the rest, thus her placement in the cast. The effects were well done, the set was beautiful and well thought out. It was a really good production for $22. Well, I paid for $63 but everyone else paid $22. The seats got used though by Cinderella's Phi Mu Sorority Sisters who felt like oh my gosh, so lucky, huh? They were nice. I am glad they got to see their sorority sister knock my socks off. They probably don't realize that she could, with more experience (she is a sophomore in college) a little more training go on to the Atlanta productions at the Fox and at the Alliance Theatre. Although, it wouldn't surprise me one bit for her to get in like she is. She was pretty good. You know. I am not so alone anymore. I am also not such a princess anymore. Sometimes I think that God just lets me know that I have to get back to being right sized again. I am not a princess. I am not a loner without friends. I am just me. And I like just me. A lot. I love going to good productions of art. Into the Woods was done very very very well.
Witches can't be right, giants might be good
Just remember
Someone is on your side
Do things, fight things,
Feel you've lost your way?
I feel like I have had the rug yanked out from underneath me. Two Friday's ago everyone who is close to me was at my side treating me like a princess. That is a PRINCESS. As in no matter what I said I was right. I had seven ladies in waiting and a queen mother hovering making sure I was getting my way. I wasn't marrying a prince, rather a prince mixed with a knight in shining armor. I couldn't believe it. It was amazing. Everyone was there.
Earlier last month I bough tickets for a production of Into the Woods. I mean what better tickets can you get? It is the best of the best productions. I wasn't sure how best of the best the acting would be, but I was willing to find out. John was working so I asked out girlfriend set #1 and once it was time to go to he musical, they back out. Ask back up girlfriend and daughter, they decide to go to Family night...erg. Call every girlfriend in the phone that lives in the tri-county area. Nothing. Call my brother! Ah, He'll go with me. It is too late for him to be able to get there and be on time. Who would know? No one will go. This happened once before with a ticket to see BBKing at Chastain. No one will go. I have to go alone.
I am alone.
Why does this bother me so much? I used to go to the movies by myself. I used to eat dinner by myself. Why am I so worked up over a couple of folks saying no thank you? They are not rejecting me. They aren't taking their love away from me. They aren't breaking up with me. They are just saying, sorry Charlie, I am not available. Erg.
Two weeks ago they were ladies in waiting. This week they have their own lives. What the hell happened? I still have a tiara!
So I go alone. I am alone.
You decide, but
You are not alone.
Believe me,
No one is alone.
I gave my two tickets that I already paid for to the box office to see if they can sell them. They can't. A refund requires too much paper work which is why all sales are final. So I give her the tickets anyway and tell her to give them to someone who could use them since I have to pay for them no matter what.
I go in and sit down. I read through the playbill. Hmm... broadway experience, hmm...teaches drama at the college level...sounds good. The director gets up at the beginning to raise more money. And then introduces the musical conductor in the pit and ....ONE-ce upon a time, I wish...There is my friend. He is on stage. He is Jack, the dreamer, pouring over milky white. He was in Godspell with me and is a total dreamboat of a kid. He is also a tremendous performer. Ahh...I am comfortable. This is pretty good...AGONY!!How it cuts like a knife!!!! Yeah those guys were BROADWAY WORTHY, they were so good. They stole the show from the Broadway veteran who was the witch. She was good too. Really good. The baker just didn't cut it with the rest of the cast. He had the super lead and dropped it in his singing. His voice didn't have the power and unbalanced the whole cast. Every other performer matched up with him was a stronger voice except the narrator/mysterious man/his dad who was worse at singing than him. He never sang out of tune, he just couldn't do the big voice like the rest of them. I was worried about Will playing Jack because there are some big voice parts in Giants in the sky, but he has been coached and instead of pushing the notes and making the slide of key, he was actually singing them and brought the volume with them naturally. I was very impressed with his growth. The baker's wife, cinderella, red riding hood and the witch all had GREAT voices, however Repunzel was the best. She sounded like one of Dad's girls. Unfortunately, she was not as stong an actress as the rest, thus her placement in the cast. The effects were well done, the set was beautiful and well thought out. It was a really good production for $22. Well, I paid for $63 but everyone else paid $22. The seats got used though by Cinderella's Phi Mu Sorority Sisters who felt like oh my gosh, so lucky, huh? They were nice. I am glad they got to see their sorority sister knock my socks off. They probably don't realize that she could, with more experience (she is a sophomore in college) a little more training go on to the Atlanta productions at the Fox and at the Alliance Theatre. Although, it wouldn't surprise me one bit for her to get in like she is. She was pretty good. You know. I am not so alone anymore. I am also not such a princess anymore. Sometimes I think that God just lets me know that I have to get back to being right sized again. I am not a princess. I am not a loner without friends. I am just me. And I like just me. A lot. I love going to good productions of art. Into the Woods was done very very very well.
Witches can't be right, giants might be good
Just remember
Someone is on your side
Last night was a time of family. I had dinner with the Donnelly's. I might add that Sherry makes the perfect pancake. I am not sure how she does it, but they are perfect. We had pancakes, talked politics and looked at wedding photos. Craig burned me a cd of his photos so I begin my collection. Grace had pre-algebra homework last night that needed help with and since Craig (he is the math, Sherry is the english) was burning the cd for me, I went to see if I could help. I didn't think I could do math any more, but as soon as I saw the homework and the math problem, I knew how to do it. Can you find the least common multiple of 8x and 40? I can. AND I taught Grace how to too. I really like hanging out with Grace. She reminds me of me except with out the back talk and with out the smart comments. She is so smart and atheletic. She is kind to others and bossy to her little brother, but she loves him. She makes better grades than I have ever will. I think it was the right decision making her a jr. bridesmaid. It was nice having dinner with the Donnelly's. It makes my life feel back on track again.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
I have never had a job where it has been great to be fired from it. This last one, I was fired and hired all in an hour. Granted the job that I was hired at was hourly and had nothing to do with the last one which typically is the case for me, it never occured to me that the job I was fired from was not a job, rather a career. You know, like when you had career day in seventh grade and a fireman came to speak to your class or a doctor or a lawyer? A Career. My parents have careers. My Dad has actually had two careers, one of which he is so successful at that he will actually leave the world a better place than when he found it as a result. Mom has been a teacher for-EVER. I am not sure if that is what she wanted to be when a career day person skipped out on presentation time so her teacher just stood up and gave a speech in their stead and Mom said, hmm, I think I will be a teacher, but that is what she is. She is great at it too. I do believe that Sarah has always wanted to be an astrounaut and Carter has always wanted to be rich. Me, I have never known what I wanted to be when I grew up. I remember in sixth grade wanting to be a lawyer because someone told me that I argue with people so much that is what I would be good at and when I found out how much they made, I said yeah, that is all me. But really I thought I was going to be dead by 21. It never occured to me that I would have to DO something. Turns out in my life there are a few things I am good at: talking, loving and driving (just kidding about the driving!). Anyway, the last job I had wasn't a job. It was what I wanted to be when I grew up. The concept of promotion, design, economic development and organization to revitalize historic downtowns is awesome. Working with people all day to make their community a better place to be just rocks. It is as though I might be able to leave a place better than when I found it. I hated that I was fired, but I was defeated in all corners to help a downtown that wasn't to be helped and as a result I was miserable. MISERABLE. I had been beated and broken by other people's greed, politics and selfishness. There was nothing that I could do to make that place a better place, maybe someone can, but it wasn't me. So they let me go and I had benn praying for that for a while. But who would know that other people would want me after being fired? Doesn't being fired mean FAILing a something? Doesn't being let go mean scat cat? Doesn't being fired mean I am terrible at my job? Is that what America is saying to Don Rumsfeld? You stink at your job now leave? Apparently not. At least not in the work of politics.
I went to a class today because it was the last class in my training. The woman in charge was upset that I had missed the last class and upon calling my previous employer found a dead end. She found out that her counter part in another region of the state was my oldest and dearest girlfriend's dad. He got my personal cell number from my girlfriend and gave it to this lady, thusly calling me. This lady who is a state employed person and works with lots of me's took the time to call and convince me to finish the class. She aslo gave me contacts in the county which I live and the next county over. She said that now that I have the experience, I can work anywhere. There is a city about twenty minutes from me: "over the mountain." It needs a director. She thinks that I would be perfect for the position. It is in the most beautiful city in the state. I stoped by to see my old state supervisor and asked for a reference and he said without hesitation, of course. He thinks that the political climate in that city would be better for me and a result would be a less stressful position.
He said without hesitation, of course.
Someimes I think that when Michelle tells me that God is my new Employer I think that she is crazy. The Serenity Prayer states, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference. God knows that I could not change the last city. I can change my attitude towards the possibility of a new job being now instead of after the New Year. I can help these citizens to have the courage to change their city. I can have the courage to submit my resume and know that it might be rejected. Wisdom...wisdom comes with the knowledge that even if I get fired from another job in another city or decide to change my career (because obviously that is what this is) or if I decide to be poor and live on a park bench, God is my new Employer and that has made all the difference.
I went to a class today because it was the last class in my training. The woman in charge was upset that I had missed the last class and upon calling my previous employer found a dead end. She found out that her counter part in another region of the state was my oldest and dearest girlfriend's dad. He got my personal cell number from my girlfriend and gave it to this lady, thusly calling me. This lady who is a state employed person and works with lots of me's took the time to call and convince me to finish the class. She aslo gave me contacts in the county which I live and the next county over. She said that now that I have the experience, I can work anywhere. There is a city about twenty minutes from me: "over the mountain." It needs a director. She thinks that I would be perfect for the position. It is in the most beautiful city in the state. I stoped by to see my old state supervisor and asked for a reference and he said without hesitation, of course. He thinks that the political climate in that city would be better for me and a result would be a less stressful position.
He said without hesitation, of course.
Someimes I think that when Michelle tells me that God is my new Employer I think that she is crazy. The Serenity Prayer states, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference. God knows that I could not change the last city. I can change my attitude towards the possibility of a new job being now instead of after the New Year. I can help these citizens to have the courage to change their city. I can have the courage to submit my resume and know that it might be rejected. Wisdom...wisdom comes with the knowledge that even if I get fired from another job in another city or decide to change my career (because obviously that is what this is) or if I decide to be poor and live on a park bench, God is my new Employer and that has made all the difference.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
I'm a Georgia Voter!
On a lighter note, I almost burned down the house last night. (Here is where my brother starts to laugh and mother is aghast and one of my best girlfriends says to John, welcome to married life with Rae.) Luckily, the heater that I killed we were intending to replace anyway and I am alive. We are going to use part of our marriage money for the new heater, it just turns out that we will be getting it this week instead of putting it off until whenever. Unfortunately, there is not a lot we can do about me being stupid.
There seems to be a confusion in our area. As I rode through Helen today to get to my voting place...whatever it is called, all the city stuff was decorated in Christmas, however, all the hotels and restaurants still have out their harvest/Thanksgiving day stuff. The whole city looks like they are drunk. The trees are changing too. They are no longer that brillant colored leafy look. They are muted greys and falling off at a rapid rate. Maybe they are drunk too.
These past couple of 24 hours I have been really confused--but luckily, I am not drunk. Adjustments to living with John. Adjustments to working here in a new environment. Adjustments to moving in general. Adjustments. Change is so confusing. Is it Christmas or is it Thanksgiving? Is it engaged or is it married? Is it Clarkesville or is it Cleveland or Dahlonega? Did I leave a candle burning somewhere like ON TOP OF THE HEATER?!!
It is like a whirlwind just hanging out over top of my head. I hope it stops soon so that I can live.
On a lighter note, I almost burned down the house last night. (Here is where my brother starts to laugh and mother is aghast and one of my best girlfriends says to John, welcome to married life with Rae.) Luckily, the heater that I killed we were intending to replace anyway and I am alive. We are going to use part of our marriage money for the new heater, it just turns out that we will be getting it this week instead of putting it off until whenever. Unfortunately, there is not a lot we can do about me being stupid.
There seems to be a confusion in our area. As I rode through Helen today to get to my voting place...whatever it is called, all the city stuff was decorated in Christmas, however, all the hotels and restaurants still have out their harvest/Thanksgiving day stuff. The whole city looks like they are drunk. The trees are changing too. They are no longer that brillant colored leafy look. They are muted greys and falling off at a rapid rate. Maybe they are drunk too.
These past couple of 24 hours I have been really confused--but luckily, I am not drunk. Adjustments to living with John. Adjustments to working here in a new environment. Adjustments to moving in general. Adjustments. Change is so confusing. Is it Christmas or is it Thanksgiving? Is it engaged or is it married? Is it Clarkesville or is it Cleveland or Dahlonega? Did I leave a candle burning somewhere like ON TOP OF THE HEATER?!!
It is like a whirlwind just hanging out over top of my head. I hope it stops soon so that I can live.
Monday, November 06, 2006
When I graduated high school and people gave me gifts, you had to pull my teeth out in order for me to write a thank you note. College was ten times worse (of course I was a bit tipsy then). I couldn't imagine why I was supposed to write a thank you note. I had a party. You were supposed to give me a gift. Should I thank you because you did your job? Yeah, that was t the old way of thinking. As I go through and do my thank you notes today, it makes me cry to think about the gifts that were given. I am so full of gratitude and the ability to recieve the love with which the gifts were given. It lets me know that people love me.
John thought that when I bought the 70 thank you notes that we purchased one too many. I have done about thirty maybe forty so far. I have completely run out of one pack and cut way into another. It is hard to keep writing. None of them have an address on them yet, but just doing the composing. . .
Dear You,
Thank you so much for the thirteenth salad plate that I have recieved...
Thanks,
Me
That is not nice. So needless to say, writing the thank you notes takes lots of work to be creative and nice and let the person know that you appreciate the gift. No one wants to think that they gave an odd thing or a duplicate. They want to know that it is personal and well thought out and for us. All of my creative juices are spent three lines at a time. It is amazing. The new way of thinking in me though wants to use everything I've got because I really do think its wonderful that you gave me a second crockpot. I do. I know that mostly you love me and that is the point. Thanks for the love. Maybe I should just write that in everyone.
Dear you,
Thanks for the love.
Love you too.
love--Rae
John thought that when I bought the 70 thank you notes that we purchased one too many. I have done about thirty maybe forty so far. I have completely run out of one pack and cut way into another. It is hard to keep writing. None of them have an address on them yet, but just doing the composing. . .
Dear You,
Thank you so much for the thirteenth salad plate that I have recieved...
Thanks,
Me
That is not nice. So needless to say, writing the thank you notes takes lots of work to be creative and nice and let the person know that you appreciate the gift. No one wants to think that they gave an odd thing or a duplicate. They want to know that it is personal and well thought out and for us. All of my creative juices are spent three lines at a time. It is amazing. The new way of thinking in me though wants to use everything I've got because I really do think its wonderful that you gave me a second crockpot. I do. I know that mostly you love me and that is the point. Thanks for the love. Maybe I should just write that in everyone.
Dear you,
Thanks for the love.
Love you too.
love--Rae
Sunday, November 05, 2006
When the train rolls by,
I'm gonna be ready this time,
When the boy gets that look in his eye,
I'm gonna be ready this time. . .
Well, I am not interested in running away, but the Dixie Chicks are one of my favorite sing-a-long cds and when I clean house, singing is important. Music is important. I have been operating off of John's computer cd player because mine is still not hooked up. When it is though, I will blow the doors off this farm house!
All that being said, I have been cleaning the farm all day almost. John and I wanted to go to church this morning, but the sleep over slept and church became ousted due to the list of other things going on. Breakfast with the boys was also cancelled because one is working and the other is doing his family stuff and the third is hunting. This was perfect for me because I am more interested in getting the farm in order in stead of its current state of disarray. All of the gifts have been opened and now they are put away after all the cabinets were cleaned and the china cabinet dusted. All that is left is a stack of boxes for John to take to the dumpster at Linda's. He has already made one trip and will make another when he gets back from district. I am grateful for district because it got him out of the house and let me work. He went with Sebastian and shortly after he picked Sebass up, Megan called. She is lonely and wants to play designer so she is on her way over.
Last night I made dinner, well part of dinner. I made a chicken dish perscribed by Mom and wassail. I forgot to pick up salad and dinner rolls so we ate the chicken dish. We used our new china and new sweet tea glasses that Carter gave us. I know they were from Carter because they came straight out of the box with the card. The dishes were out of Mom's set. The ceramic bake wear I used was from Donna and Skippy and the utensils were from Michelle Wilde. The cake plate that held John's birthday cake was from Mrs. Kahle and the crock pot was from Bobby and Meloday (although they gave it to me several Christmas's back and I have never used it until last night) that holds the wassail. My timing is off too because we were late to the meeting by about forty-five minutes! But we went anyway.
I don't know what happens as a result of marriage. I have never cleaned my apartments as much as I am cleaning this old farm house. I have rarely made dinner. I tried once at the Sautee apartment and would invite different people over just for dinner. I think I had he same sensation that I have now. I just am ready to have a family. I am ready to have friends over to hang out in my house, watch movies, play games, share their lives with my family much as others have done for me. Megan says that I am nesting. That is something I have normally taken offense to, but today it seems appropriate for where I am in my life. I think when I nest is helps me feel more at home. I also think that the nest here at the farm is getting more homey by the second. There are some big things left to be done, but they will happen with time.
Home, that is the name of the second Dixie Chicks cd. Maybe I should put that one in next.
I'm gonna be ready this time,
When the boy gets that look in his eye,
I'm gonna be ready this time. . .
Well, I am not interested in running away, but the Dixie Chicks are one of my favorite sing-a-long cds and when I clean house, singing is important. Music is important. I have been operating off of John's computer cd player because mine is still not hooked up. When it is though, I will blow the doors off this farm house!
All that being said, I have been cleaning the farm all day almost. John and I wanted to go to church this morning, but the sleep over slept and church became ousted due to the list of other things going on. Breakfast with the boys was also cancelled because one is working and the other is doing his family stuff and the third is hunting. This was perfect for me because I am more interested in getting the farm in order in stead of its current state of disarray. All of the gifts have been opened and now they are put away after all the cabinets were cleaned and the china cabinet dusted. All that is left is a stack of boxes for John to take to the dumpster at Linda's. He has already made one trip and will make another when he gets back from district. I am grateful for district because it got him out of the house and let me work. He went with Sebastian and shortly after he picked Sebass up, Megan called. She is lonely and wants to play designer so she is on her way over.
Last night I made dinner, well part of dinner. I made a chicken dish perscribed by Mom and wassail. I forgot to pick up salad and dinner rolls so we ate the chicken dish. We used our new china and new sweet tea glasses that Carter gave us. I know they were from Carter because they came straight out of the box with the card. The dishes were out of Mom's set. The ceramic bake wear I used was from Donna and Skippy and the utensils were from Michelle Wilde. The cake plate that held John's birthday cake was from Mrs. Kahle and the crock pot was from Bobby and Meloday (although they gave it to me several Christmas's back and I have never used it until last night) that holds the wassail. My timing is off too because we were late to the meeting by about forty-five minutes! But we went anyway.
I don't know what happens as a result of marriage. I have never cleaned my apartments as much as I am cleaning this old farm house. I have rarely made dinner. I tried once at the Sautee apartment and would invite different people over just for dinner. I think I had he same sensation that I have now. I just am ready to have a family. I am ready to have friends over to hang out in my house, watch movies, play games, share their lives with my family much as others have done for me. Megan says that I am nesting. That is something I have normally taken offense to, but today it seems appropriate for where I am in my life. I think when I nest is helps me feel more at home. I also think that the nest here at the farm is getting more homey by the second. There are some big things left to be done, but they will happen with time.
Home, that is the name of the second Dixie Chicks cd. Maybe I should put that one in next.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
For the first time in a while, John and I had a real date. One of those dates where you go out to eat and are happy, joyous and free. You know, he's funny and you are beautiful and all is right in the world? Neither of us were stressed or tired or haggard. We were easy going, happy, fun to be with people. We had stories and interesting tid bits about each other to share openly without fear. It felt like when we were first dating. You'd never know we were married. Or better yet, you'd never know that we had just gone through the wedding of the century. We held hands, prayed over dinner, and laughed at key moments and told jokes that went over our waitress's head (she was a bottle blonde, what do you expect?). Then we went to Wally World afterwords where I bought 70 Thank You notes and he thought it was too many (Little Does He Know...) a Tide Pin to get out the marinara stains from dinner and memory foam for our bed. Oh...memory foam...softness....I can't remember having that good of a date in at least six months, maybe more. The memory foam was the icing on the cake for a good night with my husband.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
On the twelfth day of my wedding my family gave to me,
Twelve plates for dining,
Eleven checks for cashing,
Ten tea-cups steeping,
Nine knives for carving,
Eight antique goblets,
Seven sets of china,
Six sweet tea glasses,
FIVE COFFEE MAKERS,
Four napkin rings,
Three table cloths,
Two sets of sheets,
and a gift card to the OUTBACK!!!
Twelve plates for dining,
Eleven checks for cashing,
Ten tea-cups steeping,
Nine knives for carving,
Eight antique goblets,
Seven sets of china,
Six sweet tea glasses,
FIVE COFFEE MAKERS,
Four napkin rings,
Three table cloths,
Two sets of sheets,
and a gift card to the OUTBACK!!!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
I came home last night. Although, it was not a home I grew up in with my family. It is not a home I have worked for to be a part of a community. It is a home that is given to me. It is a home that I share. There are no strings attached. It is a home with a name, the honey house of Gilleland. Gilleland is the farm. The Honey House is the name of the home that has been given to John and I. There is nothing there that is mine except boxes upon boxes of stuph. I am in this strange yet familiar place and my perspective seems to be changing second by second. When a customer comes in they ask my name, I have to pause before I say, Kahle. When I put something away on the shelf, my rings clink against it. When I refer to John, he is no longer my fiancee but my husband. John and I had been seperate for about three hours when I left for work and he called. Not for anything of emergency, just to catch up over the last three hours. That's strange.
I have seen everyone from every aspect of my life in the last week. I saw Midge Godfrey from Virginia (now Snellville). I saw the Dr's Brown with their children from Decatur. I saw my long time girlfriend from when I was eight, Lea Anne. I saw every cousin, uncle and aunt I have. I saw my girlfriend Megan from Agnes Scott and I saw my best friend Megan from North Georgia. AND I saw them all in three hours!
Now they are gone. Poof! in a puff of smoke. Left behind in their stead is a gift of some kind and a memory that includes a whirlwind. Boxes upon boxes of stuph. And just as they have been here and gone, I am married with a home. My perspective has changed again. I live at Gilleland. I am Mrs. John Kahle.
I have seen everyone from every aspect of my life in the last week. I saw Midge Godfrey from Virginia (now Snellville). I saw the Dr's Brown with their children from Decatur. I saw my long time girlfriend from when I was eight, Lea Anne. I saw every cousin, uncle and aunt I have. I saw my girlfriend Megan from Agnes Scott and I saw my best friend Megan from North Georgia. AND I saw them all in three hours!
Now they are gone. Poof! in a puff of smoke. Left behind in their stead is a gift of some kind and a memory that includes a whirlwind. Boxes upon boxes of stuph. And just as they have been here and gone, I am married with a home. My perspective has changed again. I live at Gilleland. I am Mrs. John Kahle.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)