Some will strut and some will fret see this an hour on the stage others will not but the'll sweat in their hopelessness in the rage we're all the same the men of anger and the women of the page....
Whew...my kitchen is CLEAN. Almost. There is still the whole concept of painting the thing and getting the stuff that is not ours out of it. Just getting the stuff that is not ours out of it will be a task for the weekend. I did take the leaf out of the table and took out four chairs which gave us more room than believable. Tonight I tackle the living room and then tomorrow I tackle the lake! Gosh the difference on the inside of me is always amazing to me when I clean up the outside of me. I feel productive and useful and like I am slowly getting back to being me.
The lake always amazes me. Did you know that rhodedendrums can only bloom at a certain temperature? It has to be cool...not cold and not hot, cool. The rhodedendrums are still in bloom up here on the lake. It has to do with the mornings being so cool and the shade of the mountains and the natural underbrush. I think they have and altitude requirement too, but I am not sure about that one. It is so cool in the mornings that I have to wear a sweat shirt to work so I look a bit ridiculous with shorts and a sweat shirt. But this afternoon it is going to be 91 and there is no way to get around it.
The other odd thing about the lake is that there are two kinds of people who are on the lake. The diner next door is such a good theatre for it. There are those who live and work here and then there are those who live in the houses on the lake here. The difference between the two is about 100 grand a year. At lunch around 1130, all the men come in. They are constuction of every sort. Generally they are related to the women who run the diner. They have specialties and all work on any number of homes on the lake. Then around 1230 come the lake people. They are in their matching clothes, sun bleached faces, clean shoes. They are totally different. They come from Atlanta, New York, Charleston, the Bahamas. Yes, we have one set from the Bahamas. They typically have children with them who are unruly and have to be told to take their feet out of the booth. They aren't related to anyone and mostly are hard to wait on because they have such expectations that are just not true for this family diner. For example, Nanny makes the bisquits and when they run out she is not making any more and your nuts for asking. Her children and those who are married to her children and their children and those who are married to them do not ask for a bisquit, they ask if there are any left. The lake people get frustrated because their whim is not met. Nanny is 73 and doesn't care. HA! So different.
I like it up here. It is familiar. Comfortable. Well until it is 91 degrees, but then there is a lake to jump into so who cares.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Being overwhelmed is so overwhelming. My house is in explosive mode. I think it would be easier to burn the thing down and start over than it would to get it staight. I forget what it takes to work a full time job, be a girl, be a girlfriend or rather these days a wife, AND keep a clean home. I used to do it when I worked for the City at my apartment, but since the wedding my whole life seems upside down. Now that I am back to a life of regularity, I have forgotten what it takes. My house isn't kinda sorta messy. It looks like it has been hit by a tornado of clothes. Yes, its that bad. There is no way I can handle it any more and I am overwhelmed as to where to start. I know that I will start somewhere though. Tonight will be a Dixie Chicks/Indigo Girls/Dave Matthews Sing-fest and cleaning tirade.
It is really exhausting being overwhelmed. Just writing about it makes me tired.
It is really exhausting being overwhelmed. Just writing about it makes me tired.
Friday, June 15, 2007
I woke fifteen minutes late this morning which was bad because I needed to leave fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I managed to get out of the door fast enough to get to the bank and leave downtown Cleveland on time to be on time to work. Then when I got to work I was fifteen minutes early.
How did I do that?
How did I do that?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Mom says that she misses the blog. And since I haven't done this in a while, I am not sure this entry will be all that well thought out, but just the same, for Mom...
I was standing,
You were there,
Two worlds colliding,
And they could never tear us a part!
Yeah, so I have fallen in love with my husband again. The whole adjustment period is finally over. Thank goodness, I thought that someone would be in for it like the Sopranos. We are very good partners. We both are learning about communication in the home place which can be great fun. Often there are a lot of "what?'s" passed back and forth as we have trouble understanding. That can be frustrating. But the outcome is so worth the what. However he did hear me when I screamed SNAKE! There was no miscommunication that there was a HUGE BLACK SNAKE in the house. He got that one without a what. That's a good thing. It means that we definitely have some level of communication, which is good.
Strangely, we get along really well in the workplace too. Did I mention that we are working together now? We are. Luckily there are two office locations and he is mostly at the real estate office and I am in the bookkeeper office. (Did you know that bookkeeper has the most double letters, back to back, in one word?) But there are not all that many whats at the office. It is mostly, did you? Yes, did you? Not yet...easy stuff.
You'd think that I would have learned how to communicate with someone by now. I have been walking and talking since 9 months old. But talking to someone as a roommate, a lover and a partner...never crossed anyone like that before, but you'd think it wouldn't be all that different from talking to my girlfriends. Yeah, he totally doesn't understand me when I go into girlfriend language. He rolls his eyes whenever Sherry or Meg call. Like, whatever! It turns out that husbands speak their own language. Weird. But wonderful.
I was standing,
You were there,
Two worlds colliding,
And they could never tear us a part!
Yeah, so I have fallen in love with my husband again. The whole adjustment period is finally over. Thank goodness, I thought that someone would be in for it like the Sopranos. We are very good partners. We both are learning about communication in the home place which can be great fun. Often there are a lot of "what?'s" passed back and forth as we have trouble understanding. That can be frustrating. But the outcome is so worth the what. However he did hear me when I screamed SNAKE! There was no miscommunication that there was a HUGE BLACK SNAKE in the house. He got that one without a what. That's a good thing. It means that we definitely have some level of communication, which is good.
Strangely, we get along really well in the workplace too. Did I mention that we are working together now? We are. Luckily there are two office locations and he is mostly at the real estate office and I am in the bookkeeper office. (Did you know that bookkeeper has the most double letters, back to back, in one word?) But there are not all that many whats at the office. It is mostly, did you? Yes, did you? Not yet...easy stuff.
You'd think that I would have learned how to communicate with someone by now. I have been walking and talking since 9 months old. But talking to someone as a roommate, a lover and a partner...never crossed anyone like that before, but you'd think it wouldn't be all that different from talking to my girlfriends. Yeah, he totally doesn't understand me when I go into girlfriend language. He rolls his eyes whenever Sherry or Meg call. Like, whatever! It turns out that husbands speak their own language. Weird. But wonderful.
Monday, May 07, 2007
You know the first rule of flyin is? Well I s'pose you do since you already know what I'm bout to say.
I do, but I like to hear you say it.
Love, for all the mad in the verse, you take a boat in the air that you don't love she'll shake you up just as sure as turn in the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she ought to fall down; tell you she's hurtin 'fore she kicks; makes her a home.
Storms getting worse.
We'll pass through it soon enough.
While I'd like to believe some crazy film taught me this lesson, I know who did. Though it does make a great ending to a good movie. I have been trying to watch the whole movie and have been unsuccessful until today. Got through it, start to finish. I remember the lesson and who taught it to me. It was my Dad.
When I was little, a man gave me the most beautiful lamp. He gave one to my brother too although it was a boy version and mine was a girl version. I don't know that they are worth anything, but they were worth a lot to him. My lamp was Strawberry Shortcake. I remember growing up with Strawberry Shortcake stories and dolls and it seemed like at one point she joined the Saturday morning cartoon line up. I don't know if the stations still do that, but I knew my morning was over when the Soul Train came on and it was time to get dressed and into yard clean up clothes. I can still smell the doll. She smelled like what I would imagine a plastic strawberry would smell like. I know that if you put her in front of me blindfolded, I could tell you who she was. I also had a Strawberry Shortcake bathing suit that I wore forever. It had a criss-cross back and was very confusing to step into for a two year old...or how ever old I was.
It never occurred to me that my parents wouldn't have given me the lamp. It made since to me that since almost every thing I owned they gave me, why not the lamp? Some how in conversation the story of the lamp came up. I think Mom was driving us in the blue marquis on to violin. She told me the story: Mr. Walker had a daughter. She was extremely upset about something so much so that she was determined to run away. My Dad was the youth/music minister of Mr. Walker's church so in the middle of the night, my Dad went to help when called. He some how convinced that youth that things were not as bad as they seemed and that it would all be okay in the morning. Everything is always better in the morning.
I don't know if it is the job of a minister to go into a home with a confused, scared young woman and convince her that life is worth living, worth loving and worth staying for, but that is what my Dad did. She woke the next morning and yes, everything was better in the morning. She learned that when we trust, have faith and believe that we are loved that things pass. It is just a storm and we will pass through soon enough. Her father was eternally grateful to my father for saving his daughter's life. And I got a really cool lamp.
I have always remembered that story. I think sometimes it is the reason that I didn't kill myself when I was drinking. I have a memory of coming too over my bible searching desperately for the answer in tears and without a notion in the world that in order to find God I would have to be sober first. What I did know was two things: God was in that damn compilation of books and that I would have to look for him in the morning because it was too dark and would all be okay in the morning. So I would lay my drunken head down, pass out, come to, go to sleep, and sure enough it passed. That horrid sensation, that emotional crush, that unbelivable, incomprehensible demoralization was gone. Today, I don't ever have that. The storm has passed and when I go to bed or wake up, it is always okay.
I do, but I like to hear you say it.
Love, for all the mad in the verse, you take a boat in the air that you don't love she'll shake you up just as sure as turn in the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she ought to fall down; tell you she's hurtin 'fore she kicks; makes her a home.
Storms getting worse.
We'll pass through it soon enough.
While I'd like to believe some crazy film taught me this lesson, I know who did. Though it does make a great ending to a good movie. I have been trying to watch the whole movie and have been unsuccessful until today. Got through it, start to finish. I remember the lesson and who taught it to me. It was my Dad.
When I was little, a man gave me the most beautiful lamp. He gave one to my brother too although it was a boy version and mine was a girl version. I don't know that they are worth anything, but they were worth a lot to him. My lamp was Strawberry Shortcake. I remember growing up with Strawberry Shortcake stories and dolls and it seemed like at one point she joined the Saturday morning cartoon line up. I don't know if the stations still do that, but I knew my morning was over when the Soul Train came on and it was time to get dressed and into yard clean up clothes. I can still smell the doll. She smelled like what I would imagine a plastic strawberry would smell like. I know that if you put her in front of me blindfolded, I could tell you who she was. I also had a Strawberry Shortcake bathing suit that I wore forever. It had a criss-cross back and was very confusing to step into for a two year old...or how ever old I was.
It never occurred to me that my parents wouldn't have given me the lamp. It made since to me that since almost every thing I owned they gave me, why not the lamp? Some how in conversation the story of the lamp came up. I think Mom was driving us in the blue marquis on to violin. She told me the story: Mr. Walker had a daughter. She was extremely upset about something so much so that she was determined to run away. My Dad was the youth/music minister of Mr. Walker's church so in the middle of the night, my Dad went to help when called. He some how convinced that youth that things were not as bad as they seemed and that it would all be okay in the morning. Everything is always better in the morning.
I don't know if it is the job of a minister to go into a home with a confused, scared young woman and convince her that life is worth living, worth loving and worth staying for, but that is what my Dad did. She woke the next morning and yes, everything was better in the morning. She learned that when we trust, have faith and believe that we are loved that things pass. It is just a storm and we will pass through soon enough. Her father was eternally grateful to my father for saving his daughter's life. And I got a really cool lamp.
I have always remembered that story. I think sometimes it is the reason that I didn't kill myself when I was drinking. I have a memory of coming too over my bible searching desperately for the answer in tears and without a notion in the world that in order to find God I would have to be sober first. What I did know was two things: God was in that damn compilation of books and that I would have to look for him in the morning because it was too dark and would all be okay in the morning. So I would lay my drunken head down, pass out, come to, go to sleep, and sure enough it passed. That horrid sensation, that emotional crush, that unbelivable, incomprehensible demoralization was gone. Today, I don't ever have that. The storm has passed and when I go to bed or wake up, it is always okay.
It is always interesting to me why anyone would want what I have. Lately I have been in a room full of people and felt completely alone. That is hard when my whole being is contengent on a connection with others. Yes, I am that dependent on people still today despite everyday I work on a relationship with God. This woman came up to me on Saturday night after the meeting to let me know that the things that I share she relates to and so much so, she would like me to tell my story at her anniversary. I almost started to cry in public. I don't do that and if I do, something is WRONG. Really wrong. Of course I didn't, I almost did, but it was so startling that I said yes, I'd be honored and then told her that I was so overwhelmed I had to leave. So I left. I went to eat dinner with my husband and a friend. Mmm...ribs. So now I am going to tell my story in front of a whole bunch of people who know my story because they experienced most of it with me and who knows, maybe someone will get something from it. If nothing else, I already have.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Everyone in my life has gone stark raving mad. They all seem to have some great crisis going on so when I call them and say "how was your day" I have to be prepared for a lengthy conversation with me saying things like mmhmm, oh no, well that's too bad. Meanwhile, my life is looking up. I am happy to say that my husband has a killer new job as do I. Couldn't ask for much more, so when they finally take a breath and say so how are you? I say oh, fine. I feel like a horrible person because I can't say HURRAY! This is the coolest thing ever! Because then I would be a jerk. I have decided to take refuge from the chaos and go see my Mom. Hopefully my new workout stuff will come in by the end of the week so I can look hip when I work out at Mom's. Nothing worse than looking like a loser when things are on the up and up. My one friend who is not in choas is also bailing out this weekend to the homestead and it sounds like a good idea. It will be the first time away from the hubby as I doubt he will go because he is a freak, but I am ready to go see my Mom. Sometimes a girl just needs her mom even when she is thirty. Even our cows are freaking out. They are almost done though. We took two calves away from the mamas and one calf died. So the mamas are walking around screaming at the top of their lungs for the babies looking incessantly for their children (when they are in the barn--you'd think they'd stand in front of the barn, but they wander aimlessly around all 65 acres). They will forget what they are doing tomorrow and go back to being cows again. Maybe that is what will happen come Monday, everyone will forget what they are doing and go back to being cows.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
My husband might not make it into another day awake. I have never seen anyone operate on as little sleep as he has in the past two days. Wednesday, he came home at six thirty to sleep for a couple hours, until ten only to go to lunch with a business guy. Came home and slept from four thirty until six thirty. Then he went to work to come home and go to this thing in ATL until four the next day. He slept for an hour in between work and leaving for ATL. Then he slept from four until seven to leave for work tonight. CAN YOU SAY NUTS?!! I can't imagine operating on sleep like that. I know that he really wants this opportunity that he is losing sleep over but OMG!! CAN YOU IMAGINE?!!
My husband is officially nuts.
My husband is officially nuts.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
I have found out the hard way what skipping a workout does for me. By nature, I am an angry person. My parents thought something was seriously wrong with me when I was growing up. They consulted a preacher's wife because I was so angry all the time. She said the only thing you can do with a child like that is pray for them. I don't remember being as angry when I was a part of an excercise regimen. When I was playing a sport, I don't remember being as angry. These days my anger is tempered by things that I didn't even know how to do back then: prayer and meditation, behavior corrections, self awareness, identification of fears. I have found a new tool: working out. Although, I don't work out like some people, I do what feels good to me. So far, I am up to about a thirty-five minute workout. I have been doing it about everyday to everyother day. The other day my head told me that I should reward myself and take an extra day. This would mean that there were two days without working out instead of one. No big deal right? No big deal: wrong. All day long anything anyone said to me was wrong. They were wrong! My mother knows exactly what I am talking about because she used to be the anyone (unfortunately she was also the Mom so that meant that I was being disobediant to boot.). The other tool I used was never miss an opportunity to keep my mouth shut. So I am not necessarily telling the stupid person that they are stupid, but I am thinking it! AND I am smiling which means they know I am thinking they are an idiot. Dumb, dumb, dumb they are. As I am riding home from Cornelia with a good friend she looks at me and says she is sorry that I am so out of sorts. She asks me when the last time I worked out was because this is the point in the conversation where we go over our workout stuff. Hmm...two days ago. Yeah, she says, you can't miss a day of working out. That is what is wrong with you. You need to work out. You know what I am thinking? She doesn't know what she is talking about. Stupid people. So the next day I workout, hop in the shower, hop out of the shower and am singing around the house when the hubby says, oh, you're in a good mood today. Damn it. The girlfriend was right. I can't miss more than a day of working out. I was crazy. My guess is that my parents have been praying for me since Mrs. G told them to, so all I have to say is thanks for the prayers. I am not so angry today. Now I am going to workout.
Monday, April 23, 2007
So this week it was harder to love myself as I was in great anticipation and mostly just fear. This seems grave to those who don't know that I am afraid of my own shadow. This week though it was an ingrained, soul written, had no idea was there fear. Big enough that I was able to function throughout my life happily except when it was brought up at which time I thought I would throw up. Turns out that I am afraid of money. Not money like hey I got paid but money like not having to work for the rest of my life. While this is only a reality five years from now, it is still a great possibility. So I come writing today of good news for John and I: John got a killer job. I am no longer in fear. Turns out that through my little emotional upheaval I have learned that God doesn't want me to be poor. I have also learned that poverty is not spiritual. AND I learned that neither is arrogance. So, if you throw them both away, you have a pretty good person who can be of service to God. Hopefully, I will be a service girl.
In other farm news, someone stole my dog. The black and tan puppy. I am a little upset, and keep calling all other dogs, Rocky (his name), but it is better than finding him squished on the side of the road. There is nothing fun about cleaning up dog parts. It is easier on the heart and the eyes to just know that God got him. It did give me ample opportunity to see the pasture as I walked the entire 65+ acres with Mikey. Turns out that we live on a BEAUTIFUL piece. There are two creeks and a river that border the property. All of them look like something Cooper would totally get a kick out of climbing, swimming, fishing, camping, exploring through out. I was amazed by the landscapes they created. Found a good site for a bonfire which I totally expect to have in the next couple of weeks (after blackberry winter and once John gets back on a day schedule again--hurray for the day schedule).
On Saturday I was back to doing things that make me feel better again. I cleaned out the back bedroom. It actually looks like a place where someone could lay their head if they came to stay. There is a place to put our clothes and everything! There was LOTS of things thown away and LOTS of things to be given away. There was lots to just be put away. John thought it would be great fun to leave the trash outside to test the puppy. One for Mikey, zero for John. Trash all over the yard. ALL OVER THE YARD. Mikey had eaten something aweful, he was so stinky. However, he thought it was great fun and just couldn't get over the wonderful toy John had left for him. John didn't make that mistake again. He took the trash to the dump the next day, but left it in the mud room over night.
Our farm house is slowly turning into our home. Each day it gets a little more like John and I instead of like John and Albert. Thank goodness. Have I ever mentioned how bachelor's don't clean? Yeah, gross. But it is clean today. And I feel better about myself.
In other farm news, someone stole my dog. The black and tan puppy. I am a little upset, and keep calling all other dogs, Rocky (his name), but it is better than finding him squished on the side of the road. There is nothing fun about cleaning up dog parts. It is easier on the heart and the eyes to just know that God got him. It did give me ample opportunity to see the pasture as I walked the entire 65+ acres with Mikey. Turns out that we live on a BEAUTIFUL piece. There are two creeks and a river that border the property. All of them look like something Cooper would totally get a kick out of climbing, swimming, fishing, camping, exploring through out. I was amazed by the landscapes they created. Found a good site for a bonfire which I totally expect to have in the next couple of weeks (after blackberry winter and once John gets back on a day schedule again--hurray for the day schedule).
On Saturday I was back to doing things that make me feel better again. I cleaned out the back bedroom. It actually looks like a place where someone could lay their head if they came to stay. There is a place to put our clothes and everything! There was LOTS of things thown away and LOTS of things to be given away. There was lots to just be put away. John thought it would be great fun to leave the trash outside to test the puppy. One for Mikey, zero for John. Trash all over the yard. ALL OVER THE YARD. Mikey had eaten something aweful, he was so stinky. However, he thought it was great fun and just couldn't get over the wonderful toy John had left for him. John didn't make that mistake again. He took the trash to the dump the next day, but left it in the mud room over night.
Our farm house is slowly turning into our home. Each day it gets a little more like John and I instead of like John and Albert. Thank goodness. Have I ever mentioned how bachelor's don't clean? Yeah, gross. But it is clean today. And I feel better about myself.
Friday, April 13, 2007
In the spirit of doing things that make me like myself, I have begun an attempt at physical sobriety. What does this mean? I don't know. It means that I have been praying for some time now to have the obsession and compulsion to eat more than I need to be removed and to give me the desire to be healthy today. It means that after six months of praying the prayer, I have become willing to not just work out but consistently work out. I also have not had a desire to eat after ten pm. While this sound surprising to some of you out there, my sleep schedule is all screwed up since I started waiting tables and getting home at eleven o'clock or midnight is standard with a period of wide-eyed-ness until around two am or on really bad nights, three. Much to my shagrin, I would eat at these times of the night. Nothing I ate was percievably healthy by anyone's standards other than the Pilsbury Dough Boy. Now if I eat, it is a bowl of cereal or popcorn. I don't know what has changed, I just know it has. I continue to pray my prayer and I continue to feel better.
Also, in the spirit of sharing good spirits, I baked my husband a pecan pie. Don't you wish you were at the farm right now?
Also, in the spirit of sharing good spirits, I baked my husband a pecan pie. Don't you wish you were at the farm right now?
Friday, April 06, 2007
There are some things that are unexplainable. For example, my not blogging for forever...
Another is the first Dave Matthews Album. There was a guy I met my freshman year. He was, of course, a GT man and was either not very bright or not very right, which ever, he flunked out. Before he did, he initiated me into the world of fraternities my first semester. His name was Dave and was from Hoboken, New Jersey. I don't know where Hoboken is, but I love the name. He was a big brother figure. Someone who called me his little sister. For example, he always had a pull out couch for me to sleep on if I was unable to get home and didn't want to fall prey to some smuck who was looking to get lucky. Another example was him kicking me out of his room when he was smoking pot. Ah, yes, looking out for his little sister. He always provided me a ticket to the GT football game even if I didn't have a date because he never had a date. He was a guinuinely (wow, how do you spell that word Carter?) nice guy, for being a pot head.
He also introduced me to good music, good people and good habits. He wouldn't let me drink and study at the same time: good habit. He introduced me to who I would consider my big sister at Agnes Scott: good people. He listened to Dave Matthews all the time: good music. I can remember most importantly, he made me feel a part of something. I guess I was a part of a friendship. At the time I was not very good at relationships. Actually, I have never been very good at relationships. I was particularly bad at them in college because if they didn't circle around drinking, there was no point to me. But he was a friend. He was my friend.
I think I only have one picture of him at a toga party at Delta Tau Delta. He was hanging out with Lori. She hated me, but whatever. That feeling of being a part of has always stuck with me. It seems like my relationship with Dave ended much as so many did: somehow aweful and awkward. But that small period when life was good, I remember. When I listen to Dave Matthews, especially the first album, I find that confidence and comfort of being in a friendship. Somehow the relationship is a part of me. It is a part of me that I am not ashamed. I was someone who I liked in that relationship. When I listen to it, it reminds me that sometimes, sometimes, just sometimes, I like myself.
Strangely, it also makes me want to do more things, have more relationships where I like myself. I haven't liked myself much lately. Mostly, I have wanted to hide under the covers and just wait for it to be over. I don't know what "it" is and Dr. Pinka would berate me for not haveing an antecedant to that "it", but IT has scared me for a while and I am not sure, but IT scares me into a place where I am not happy and don't really like myself. For the first time in the past couple of days, IT has been on the back burner and God has given me some willingness to get out from under the covers to see if I can battle IT. So I am taking action to like myself again: Clean the farm house, clean the farm house, clean the farm house. I want to make the farm look like a home instead of this mishap of two people colliding and calling it home. In the name of Divine Order, First Things First, had to have good music. So I hooked up my stereo system (can you believe I have been here six months and not hooked up my stereo? Can you say Rae is loony toons?) and to my disbelief, what was in the cd player? Dave Matthews. I knew I was on the right path. It made me like myself again. Thanks Dave.
Another is the first Dave Matthews Album. There was a guy I met my freshman year. He was, of course, a GT man and was either not very bright or not very right, which ever, he flunked out. Before he did, he initiated me into the world of fraternities my first semester. His name was Dave and was from Hoboken, New Jersey. I don't know where Hoboken is, but I love the name. He was a big brother figure. Someone who called me his little sister. For example, he always had a pull out couch for me to sleep on if I was unable to get home and didn't want to fall prey to some smuck who was looking to get lucky. Another example was him kicking me out of his room when he was smoking pot. Ah, yes, looking out for his little sister. He always provided me a ticket to the GT football game even if I didn't have a date because he never had a date. He was a guinuinely (wow, how do you spell that word Carter?) nice guy, for being a pot head.
He also introduced me to good music, good people and good habits. He wouldn't let me drink and study at the same time: good habit. He introduced me to who I would consider my big sister at Agnes Scott: good people. He listened to Dave Matthews all the time: good music. I can remember most importantly, he made me feel a part of something. I guess I was a part of a friendship. At the time I was not very good at relationships. Actually, I have never been very good at relationships. I was particularly bad at them in college because if they didn't circle around drinking, there was no point to me. But he was a friend. He was my friend.
I think I only have one picture of him at a toga party at Delta Tau Delta. He was hanging out with Lori. She hated me, but whatever. That feeling of being a part of has always stuck with me. It seems like my relationship with Dave ended much as so many did: somehow aweful and awkward. But that small period when life was good, I remember. When I listen to Dave Matthews, especially the first album, I find that confidence and comfort of being in a friendship. Somehow the relationship is a part of me. It is a part of me that I am not ashamed. I was someone who I liked in that relationship. When I listen to it, it reminds me that sometimes, sometimes, just sometimes, I like myself.
Strangely, it also makes me want to do more things, have more relationships where I like myself. I haven't liked myself much lately. Mostly, I have wanted to hide under the covers and just wait for it to be over. I don't know what "it" is and Dr. Pinka would berate me for not haveing an antecedant to that "it", but IT has scared me for a while and I am not sure, but IT scares me into a place where I am not happy and don't really like myself. For the first time in the past couple of days, IT has been on the back burner and God has given me some willingness to get out from under the covers to see if I can battle IT. So I am taking action to like myself again: Clean the farm house, clean the farm house, clean the farm house. I want to make the farm look like a home instead of this mishap of two people colliding and calling it home. In the name of Divine Order, First Things First, had to have good music. So I hooked up my stereo system (can you believe I have been here six months and not hooked up my stereo? Can you say Rae is loony toons?) and to my disbelief, what was in the cd player? Dave Matthews. I knew I was on the right path. It made me like myself again. Thanks Dave.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
My puppies sleep upside down. They sleep on their back with thier paws in the air like a dead opossum. They are also chasing cows now. When I mean chasing, I mean leaping up grabbing a hold of the cow's tail while barking incessantly and swinging back and forth while the cow is running back towards the heard. It is very entertaining. They love it. The cows who are easily two tons or just shy of it are actually afraid of my twenty pound pups *and their mom*. I'd like to say that I am not afraid of something that was twenty pounds, but I am afraid of wasps so there you go. We had FIVE wasps in the mud room this morning for which John caught all five and let them go outside. You'd think he's a zen master, but mostly he is just not afraid and a touch insane. Three made their way back into the mudroom while I was doing laundry. I have decided they must have a bat cave entrance into the mudroom. I killed all three. There is nothing about me that is zen like. There is only the roar from within that comes in the victory over the vile, stinging, invasive bugs. The pups think that I am doing a dance of some sort and cheer me on from outside. The days are becoming more like summer everyday. They are warm to a point of sweaty. I sit outside and play with my pups until they cower from the sun in their hot winter coats and retreat to the shade of the trees in the yard. Unless they find it necessary to show off and chase after a bull calf only to be recalled by my short, loud whistle that comes with a dog treat to which ever dog gets back to me first. They return, tongues hanging, begging for me to move into the cool. Never. I am all sun, all the time. I can't imagine not having summer. Although this will be a summer of firsts for me. First time at the farm. First time married. First time in school (ever). First time with my puppies. Maybe if I can learn to sleep with my feet in the air, I will make calmly through this wonderful season of heat.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Just some blog thoughts...
if you lived in my head you would know that I am feeling better by the way I started blogging today without a computer, but now John has the ick. ICK!
Automechanics are awesome people. I have never been to an auto mechanic that wasn't required by an insurance agency (due to wreck...speaking of which I find it interesting that my brother called me in the midst of his wreck, it occurs to me that I am the person he knows who knows the most about wrecks, which I am not sure if that is a compliment that he called me for an opinion or a humiliation because I have had so many WRECKS!!!) or that wasn't employed by a dealership before for serious work. I am not going to a dealership for my oil change, that is stupid, but you know, my light came on in my car. And, it is a new car and it is the first time the light has ever lit. And, I say to my hubby, let's take to Saturn and he said, let's not. And, we took it to a mechanic. John is pretty mechanically inclined which helps because there is no wool to be pulled because he knows how to sheer the sheep. Today my car purrs. I didn't even realize that it wasn't purring before I took it to the shop, all I knew was that I went from getting 37 miles to the gallon to 34 miles to the gallon, which translates in my head as waiting to long to change the oil, but nooooooo...... the mechanic made it purrrrrr...it now gets 39 miles to the gallon without long distance travel. I used to get 40 when I made a trip to mom's, but this tank was bustling about town after I got back from PTC. Oh yes, 39 around town...take that you oily men! The other cool feature they fixed was my ignition. I used to have to yank the steering column and turn the key and stomp my foot (the stomping was so not to lose my cool) in order to start the car. The lovely mechanic made it so I put the key in and turn and it starts the car just like a new car. Purrrrr....
Fafsa sucks.
Started watching the west wing series again. Strangley it is not as addicting this time. I turned to Pretty In Pink after one side of the dvd. I never made it through PIP because it was late and I fell asleep. Finished wathing Coal Minor's Daughter the other night. It is long, took me two times to get all the way through. There is something about country singers who are real that makes for comfort. When I say country singers who are real, I mean who have experienced their songs as opposed to having people write the songs for them. Some day I will buy that one. It was a real decent flick.
I like a super Wally World on a Friday in the mountains. It reminds me of Tuesdays in Decatur. The thing in the mountains though is that you ALWAYS run into someone you know. That didn't neccessarily happen in Decatur, although it happened a lot. The thing about Fridays is that everyone in the county gets paid because they all earn wage and no salary so they go see the super Wally for their weeklies. There are so many people in there that it is like the ATL because you have to just go about your way and ignore all else. Watch out for carts man because there is no seeing around corners. You just have to see about yourself. There is no acknowledgement that you almost get run down, they keep right on going. It allows me to be less self conscious about my shopping. It also allows me to disappear in the masses. I get a little confidence out of the whole deal. The hustle and bustle of the city. Nothing like it.
March is in like a lion. We have had so much wind it is surreal. Hopefully it will go out like a lamb and take the cold wind outta here. It is like a trick when I am trying to get dressed: oh look beautiful sunny skies...but then you walk out in it and are promptly hit up side the head with something the pups drug out from under the house because the wind picked it up just to remind you whose boss...brrrr...go away.
just some blog thoughts...
if you lived in my head you would know that I am feeling better by the way I started blogging today without a computer, but now John has the ick. ICK!
Automechanics are awesome people. I have never been to an auto mechanic that wasn't required by an insurance agency (due to wreck...speaking of which I find it interesting that my brother called me in the midst of his wreck, it occurs to me that I am the person he knows who knows the most about wrecks, which I am not sure if that is a compliment that he called me for an opinion or a humiliation because I have had so many WRECKS!!!) or that wasn't employed by a dealership before for serious work. I am not going to a dealership for my oil change, that is stupid, but you know, my light came on in my car. And, it is a new car and it is the first time the light has ever lit. And, I say to my hubby, let's take to Saturn and he said, let's not. And, we took it to a mechanic. John is pretty mechanically inclined which helps because there is no wool to be pulled because he knows how to sheer the sheep. Today my car purrs. I didn't even realize that it wasn't purring before I took it to the shop, all I knew was that I went from getting 37 miles to the gallon to 34 miles to the gallon, which translates in my head as waiting to long to change the oil, but nooooooo...... the mechanic made it purrrrrr...it now gets 39 miles to the gallon without long distance travel. I used to get 40 when I made a trip to mom's, but this tank was bustling about town after I got back from PTC. Oh yes, 39 around town...take that you oily men! The other cool feature they fixed was my ignition. I used to have to yank the steering column and turn the key and stomp my foot (the stomping was so not to lose my cool) in order to start the car. The lovely mechanic made it so I put the key in and turn and it starts the car just like a new car. Purrrrr....
Fafsa sucks.
Started watching the west wing series again. Strangley it is not as addicting this time. I turned to Pretty In Pink after one side of the dvd. I never made it through PIP because it was late and I fell asleep. Finished wathing Coal Minor's Daughter the other night. It is long, took me two times to get all the way through. There is something about country singers who are real that makes for comfort. When I say country singers who are real, I mean who have experienced their songs as opposed to having people write the songs for them. Some day I will buy that one. It was a real decent flick.
I like a super Wally World on a Friday in the mountains. It reminds me of Tuesdays in Decatur. The thing in the mountains though is that you ALWAYS run into someone you know. That didn't neccessarily happen in Decatur, although it happened a lot. The thing about Fridays is that everyone in the county gets paid because they all earn wage and no salary so they go see the super Wally for their weeklies. There are so many people in there that it is like the ATL because you have to just go about your way and ignore all else. Watch out for carts man because there is no seeing around corners. You just have to see about yourself. There is no acknowledgement that you almost get run down, they keep right on going. It allows me to be less self conscious about my shopping. It also allows me to disappear in the masses. I get a little confidence out of the whole deal. The hustle and bustle of the city. Nothing like it.
March is in like a lion. We have had so much wind it is surreal. Hopefully it will go out like a lamb and take the cold wind outta here. It is like a trick when I am trying to get dressed: oh look beautiful sunny skies...but then you walk out in it and are promptly hit up side the head with something the pups drug out from under the house because the wind picked it up just to remind you whose boss...brrrr...go away.
just some blog thoughts...
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I am watching Anne of Green Gables, the sequel. I grew up knowing it as Anne of Avonlea. Why am I watching Anne of Avonlea? Because I am sick. That is what I watch when I am sick. I can remember it being on all the time on PBS or at least one hour of it on the Disney Channel.
This sweet woman at work said that I reminded her of Anne. She said that I was haughty just like the Anne girl. I said thank you because I will take any relation I can get to Anne Shirley. Weird compliment though.
I have been sick since Monday, only on Monday I didn't know I was sick until Tuesday morning I woke up as though I had been in an accident. My body was sore, my nose was stuffed up and my throat was scratchy. Turns out that Cooper had the same thing and was home from school. He had a cough to boot. So I went and watched over the greatest soccer player while eating popsicles and watching movies. Then I went off to grab his sister to take her to her chorus concert and by the time I got back to their house, I was beaten and battered by my cold. It fooled me though. I went to bed at nine and got up around eleven the next day and thought hmm....I feel better only sniffles and no pain.
So I took medicine and went to hang out with my favorite artist, Megan who is working on her first piece for sale. She has quite a talent. She says that she NEEEEEEDS me to be there when she paints. Mostly she needs me there to paint about like she needs me to be there when she cleans. This is a game we played when we were roommates. I would go and sit in her room and she would clean all around me and then she would come and sit in my room while I cleaned around her. It was dreadful to learn how to clean without her when we each had our own place. Needless to say, mostly she paints while I sit there and do nothing. It is the same effect as the cleaning. However, I got back to the farm and K-rashed. John told me not to go out again, but not me, not the social butterfly. I went out to meet with friends. I went to bed at midnight, midnight thirty only to rise at TWO PM today. I couldn't move. My body ached, my head pounded, my nose dripped, my sinus cavity was breeding virus and now I have a cough. I took some medicine again. I hate taking medicine. Thirty minutes I could stand and carry on a sentence and tried to take a shower. Then I passed out. Then John and I went to Dahlonega for a meal as I was feeling up. GReatest meal ever. Horrible server--excellent food. Like WOW. Then off to the post office and ZAP--no energy. I am glad that I got out because otherwise I wouldn't be convince that I needed to just stay home. Sherry called to see if I wanted to hook up and realized once I said hello that I was not in shape for it. So here I sit...Anne makes me feel better. She is the best medicine.
This sweet woman at work said that I reminded her of Anne. She said that I was haughty just like the Anne girl. I said thank you because I will take any relation I can get to Anne Shirley. Weird compliment though.
I have been sick since Monday, only on Monday I didn't know I was sick until Tuesday morning I woke up as though I had been in an accident. My body was sore, my nose was stuffed up and my throat was scratchy. Turns out that Cooper had the same thing and was home from school. He had a cough to boot. So I went and watched over the greatest soccer player while eating popsicles and watching movies. Then I went off to grab his sister to take her to her chorus concert and by the time I got back to their house, I was beaten and battered by my cold. It fooled me though. I went to bed at nine and got up around eleven the next day and thought hmm....I feel better only sniffles and no pain.
So I took medicine and went to hang out with my favorite artist, Megan who is working on her first piece for sale. She has quite a talent. She says that she NEEEEEEDS me to be there when she paints. Mostly she needs me there to paint about like she needs me to be there when she cleans. This is a game we played when we were roommates. I would go and sit in her room and she would clean all around me and then she would come and sit in my room while I cleaned around her. It was dreadful to learn how to clean without her when we each had our own place. Needless to say, mostly she paints while I sit there and do nothing. It is the same effect as the cleaning. However, I got back to the farm and K-rashed. John told me not to go out again, but not me, not the social butterfly. I went out to meet with friends. I went to bed at midnight, midnight thirty only to rise at TWO PM today. I couldn't move. My body ached, my head pounded, my nose dripped, my sinus cavity was breeding virus and now I have a cough. I took some medicine again. I hate taking medicine. Thirty minutes I could stand and carry on a sentence and tried to take a shower. Then I passed out. Then John and I went to Dahlonega for a meal as I was feeling up. GReatest meal ever. Horrible server--excellent food. Like WOW. Then off to the post office and ZAP--no energy. I am glad that I got out because otherwise I wouldn't be convince that I needed to just stay home. Sherry called to see if I wanted to hook up and realized once I said hello that I was not in shape for it. So here I sit...Anne makes me feel better. She is the best medicine.
Monday, March 05, 2007
I saw a falling star tonight and thought of Sarah and thusly thought, I needed to blog.
Lots of cool things happening on the farm. We have a visitor that was originally thought to be a beefalo and now turns out to be a real cow called a long haired highland. Unfortunately, it is a calf so mostly it looks like a four legged ewok. (a beefalo for those who are wondering is half buffalo, half cow raised for lean beef) Our farm butts up to a farm owned by a fancy doctor from Augusta. Unlike us, he raises animals for amusement instead of income. He has all sorts of stange animals such as Jacob's sheep and funny goats and turns out--long haired highland cows. They are really beautiful animals, but not as nice as our muts on our farm. Also, turns out that laundry is a dangerous thing for me to do. There was a wasp in my washer the other night that was on one of my turtle necks I was pulling out of it and walla! stung not once, but twice. It crawled up my sleeve to get me the second time and I promptly derobed with all due speed. Other cool things, the puppies have learned to stay and sit. Haha! I have the smartest puppies ever. Turns out they are dirt balls though. Their new thing is to venture out into the pasture with Mom and RedDog so they can role in cow patties. Yeah, that's gross. Definitely qualifies for dirtballdumb.
Read my brother's blog about change. Gave him a buzz and it turns out that he had a friend who also had lots of change and that both of them harnessed their changes into productive results. I got to thinking about it and that never seems to be my reaction to change. For example, Megan moved back to the mountains from Athens. Major change and took my old job (thusly I have a new one) major change. Yet I whined about it. I cried a bit in selfishness. I even told her about how selfish I was being. No hurray or yippee or perhaps constructive behavior like a welcome home gift, no.no. WAAAA. That is how I respond to change. It is better than it used to be. I used to waa and scream and kick and hurt people who loved me. Why? Because I am nutso. The pastor's wife said that there was nothing to be done with a child like that (referring to me), all you can do is pray for her. Guess it worked. I still am upset by change. Mom says that not even normal people like change. That made me feel not so crazy. Next time though, I am going to have to figure out how to get a new room out of it or a bookshelf. Mostly, I just get heartache.
Althoguh, I would say this and will close, I am changing into a maybe nurse. I don't know what I want to change into, but I am trying to change my whole life because the way I used to be wasn't working for me. Sometimes lots of little changes shift over all to one large change that makes more sense than all the little ones. When it all comes together in some sort of coincedence, I call it a God shot. The nice thing about change is that I don't neccesarily know what is going on and strengths my faith the God does. Perhaps that is the constructiveness that I get out of crying over changing.
Lots of cool things happening on the farm. We have a visitor that was originally thought to be a beefalo and now turns out to be a real cow called a long haired highland. Unfortunately, it is a calf so mostly it looks like a four legged ewok. (a beefalo for those who are wondering is half buffalo, half cow raised for lean beef) Our farm butts up to a farm owned by a fancy doctor from Augusta. Unlike us, he raises animals for amusement instead of income. He has all sorts of stange animals such as Jacob's sheep and funny goats and turns out--long haired highland cows. They are really beautiful animals, but not as nice as our muts on our farm. Also, turns out that laundry is a dangerous thing for me to do. There was a wasp in my washer the other night that was on one of my turtle necks I was pulling out of it and walla! stung not once, but twice. It crawled up my sleeve to get me the second time and I promptly derobed with all due speed. Other cool things, the puppies have learned to stay and sit. Haha! I have the smartest puppies ever. Turns out they are dirt balls though. Their new thing is to venture out into the pasture with Mom and RedDog so they can role in cow patties. Yeah, that's gross. Definitely qualifies for dirtballdumb.
Read my brother's blog about change. Gave him a buzz and it turns out that he had a friend who also had lots of change and that both of them harnessed their changes into productive results. I got to thinking about it and that never seems to be my reaction to change. For example, Megan moved back to the mountains from Athens. Major change and took my old job (thusly I have a new one) major change. Yet I whined about it. I cried a bit in selfishness. I even told her about how selfish I was being. No hurray or yippee or perhaps constructive behavior like a welcome home gift, no.no. WAAAA. That is how I respond to change. It is better than it used to be. I used to waa and scream and kick and hurt people who loved me. Why? Because I am nutso. The pastor's wife said that there was nothing to be done with a child like that (referring to me), all you can do is pray for her. Guess it worked. I still am upset by change. Mom says that not even normal people like change. That made me feel not so crazy. Next time though, I am going to have to figure out how to get a new room out of it or a bookshelf. Mostly, I just get heartache.
Althoguh, I would say this and will close, I am changing into a maybe nurse. I don't know what I want to change into, but I am trying to change my whole life because the way I used to be wasn't working for me. Sometimes lots of little changes shift over all to one large change that makes more sense than all the little ones. When it all comes together in some sort of coincedence, I call it a God shot. The nice thing about change is that I don't neccesarily know what is going on and strengths my faith the God does. Perhaps that is the constructiveness that I get out of crying over changing.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
It is strange having more time off and making the same amount of money. I am not used to having this much time off and I really don't know what to do. I work Thursday thru Sun and then poof I'm done. There is no in between. It is a weird concept working less and making more. I wish I had done it a long time ago. I am glad too because come school time all this extra time that I have on my hands, I will be studying! I am so excited about the whole concept of going back to school. I am not sure that I know how to study any more though and that is frightening.
Puppies are not dirt balls. They are unconditional love balls. They don't care if you feed them or not. They don't care if you yell at them or not. They just want to be petted. My two puppies left that I am not willing to give away just fell asleep on me. As in, thank goodness your home Mom, we have been tired of playing in the cold rain all day and your lap is nice and dry and warm. Mmmm. Love me. I have accidentally stepped on these dogs, kicked these dogs and sat on these dogs and they still love me. It is hard to walk when dogs heard your ankles so mostly I just do the best that I can and apologize if I hurt them. Sometimes I feel the same way the puppies do: I don't care what you say or what you do, just love me.
Prestige is out today in my local movie gallery....gotta see Christian Bale....Oh, watched a really bad acting action movie that as far as action movies go it was decent. Called the Marine. There were some funny lines in it that made it easy to watch. It was very apparent that this movie was a coming out movie for the wrestler turned actor. May I say, he is one beautiful man. If for no other reason ladies, watch the movie. He is also slightly adept in acting and perhaps with the right guidance would do okay in movies. He should try a role as a diamond theif next. Overall it was a C- movie, but the effects were great. There were some excellent blow up scenes and some well done fighting choreography that made the film a rentable before the new movies show up. Do I remember the actor/wrestler's name? Unfortunately no, but someone will and he will do fine once he transitions into the main stream. If Ashton Kutcher can do it, this guy can.
Puppies are not dirt balls. They are unconditional love balls. They don't care if you feed them or not. They don't care if you yell at them or not. They just want to be petted. My two puppies left that I am not willing to give away just fell asleep on me. As in, thank goodness your home Mom, we have been tired of playing in the cold rain all day and your lap is nice and dry and warm. Mmmm. Love me. I have accidentally stepped on these dogs, kicked these dogs and sat on these dogs and they still love me. It is hard to walk when dogs heard your ankles so mostly I just do the best that I can and apologize if I hurt them. Sometimes I feel the same way the puppies do: I don't care what you say or what you do, just love me.
Prestige is out today in my local movie gallery....gotta see Christian Bale....Oh, watched a really bad acting action movie that as far as action movies go it was decent. Called the Marine. There were some funny lines in it that made it easy to watch. It was very apparent that this movie was a coming out movie for the wrestler turned actor. May I say, he is one beautiful man. If for no other reason ladies, watch the movie. He is also slightly adept in acting and perhaps with the right guidance would do okay in movies. He should try a role as a diamond theif next. Overall it was a C- movie, but the effects were great. There were some excellent blow up scenes and some well done fighting choreography that made the film a rentable before the new movies show up. Do I remember the actor/wrestler's name? Unfortunately no, but someone will and he will do fine once he transitions into the main stream. If Ashton Kutcher can do it, this guy can.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Sometimes I watch movies to change the mood I'm in. Sometimes I watch movies because there is nothing else I want to do. Sometimes I watch movies because I don't know what else to do. Needless to say I watch a lot of movies. I have currently six on loan, three from the local store and three from Netflix. I also have four that I have purchased, but have not opened. Needless to say...
Some of the films I watch are funny and yet so true to life for example: Urban Cowboy. Saw this one last night. Funny and yet so true to life. It reminded me of Mama's in Atlanta. That is so real in the relationships of the people there: totally country and totally crazy. Although I totally get the 70's appeal too. I am sure that it was a hit. I rented it because I thought it was John Travolta's first film and first films are always surprising in one way or another. He surprised me in that he made a career off that role. He played a dumb cowboy. No oscar there. But it was right on for the part.
Some films I watch are horrifying. For example, I actually watched all the way through, I say that because it was not easy to do: Monster. Augh. What a horrifying thought and tragic in its truth. Absolute oscar. I watched one of those moves tonight without knowing that was what I was going to watch. I have put so many things in queue for Netflix, I can't remember why I chose the movie. It was called Sometimes in April. This movie was spectacular and riviting. The storyline is based around the genocide in Rwanda. It is an African Shindler's list. The difference was that there were no name actors in it with no name producers, director, etc. I don't know how exactly I picked this one. I think it was because I didn't know what happened in Rwanda, I just knew that something happened. Something aweful. Sure enough, it is amazing. When all of it happened I was a senior in highschool with no ability to look outside of myself long enough to understand what was happening. Now that I am aware, I recognize that the same thing is happening in the Sudan. Millions are dying and because we have no vested interest, unlike countries who have oil or weapons or better hype for elections, no vested interest, we let people die. It's not our business. I am not sure what exactly we could do since we are already engaged militarily in a war that is none of our business, but I am inclined to think that we should be careful minding business that is not ours for vested interests might become bloody interests. With that same man power we sacrafice for vested interest, we could create peace where there is no vested interest and we wouldn't have bloody interest either. I don't understand these wars. I don't understand these countries whose leaders honestly believe in the concept of power. Power is not everything. Mostly I find power to be nothing. So these leaders who sacrafice their countrymen like lambs, they don't know they have no power. So they make hate and war to show they have power. Hate is not power. War is not power. Power is an illusion. Unfortunately, the fall out of hate and war are not illusions. This movie was a great movie. Provocative. Political. Factual. Heartwrenching. It was amazing. I am still thinking about the things that occured throughout the film and probably will be for days. How appropriate too that tonight there is rain on my tin roof. This movie was a great movie. Sometiimes in April.
Some of the films I watch are funny and yet so true to life for example: Urban Cowboy. Saw this one last night. Funny and yet so true to life. It reminded me of Mama's in Atlanta. That is so real in the relationships of the people there: totally country and totally crazy. Although I totally get the 70's appeal too. I am sure that it was a hit. I rented it because I thought it was John Travolta's first film and first films are always surprising in one way or another. He surprised me in that he made a career off that role. He played a dumb cowboy. No oscar there. But it was right on for the part.
Some films I watch are horrifying. For example, I actually watched all the way through, I say that because it was not easy to do: Monster. Augh. What a horrifying thought and tragic in its truth. Absolute oscar. I watched one of those moves tonight without knowing that was what I was going to watch. I have put so many things in queue for Netflix, I can't remember why I chose the movie. It was called Sometimes in April. This movie was spectacular and riviting. The storyline is based around the genocide in Rwanda. It is an African Shindler's list. The difference was that there were no name actors in it with no name producers, director, etc. I don't know how exactly I picked this one. I think it was because I didn't know what happened in Rwanda, I just knew that something happened. Something aweful. Sure enough, it is amazing. When all of it happened I was a senior in highschool with no ability to look outside of myself long enough to understand what was happening. Now that I am aware, I recognize that the same thing is happening in the Sudan. Millions are dying and because we have no vested interest, unlike countries who have oil or weapons or better hype for elections, no vested interest, we let people die. It's not our business. I am not sure what exactly we could do since we are already engaged militarily in a war that is none of our business, but I am inclined to think that we should be careful minding business that is not ours for vested interests might become bloody interests. With that same man power we sacrafice for vested interest, we could create peace where there is no vested interest and we wouldn't have bloody interest either. I don't understand these wars. I don't understand these countries whose leaders honestly believe in the concept of power. Power is not everything. Mostly I find power to be nothing. So these leaders who sacrafice their countrymen like lambs, they don't know they have no power. So they make hate and war to show they have power. Hate is not power. War is not power. Power is an illusion. Unfortunately, the fall out of hate and war are not illusions. This movie was a great movie. Provocative. Political. Factual. Heartwrenching. It was amazing. I am still thinking about the things that occured throughout the film and probably will be for days. How appropriate too that tonight there is rain on my tin roof. This movie was a great movie. Sometiimes in April.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
One pup, two pup
Red pup, blue pup....
They are slowly but surely going away. It is really sad. I am very grateful that they are not going away the bad way which would be via coyote or hawk. They are going to good homes AND one of them is mine. John gave into me keeping one pup. Rocky. He is not the brightest one, that would be Jill which Mom and Dad got, but he is the best farm pup. He waits on us to get home. He doesn't mess with the Red Dog (turns out that red dog is really not red at all, he is a black mouth cur, but whatever). He follows on John's heel wherever he goes AND he sits in my lap to sleep.
And then there were two: Wolfman Jack and Mikey. Mikey will make a great guy dog. Bachelor household. And Jack would make a good family dog. They are mine right now, but God is finding them others who want them.
Mom said when she left today that it was sad her taking a pup. It is sad, but it is so relieving. I was most afraid that Jill would get eaten because she was the most adorable and playful and thus most exposed to being eaten. My tears today were mixed for her to be gone from our farm, but to be well taken care of and for the knowledge that she would live. Relief is a powerful feeling. The boys I don't worry nearly about. I am glad we are down to two. BUt my guess is that my heart will break again when I give them away. It is just one of those things. My Mom cried for six months after I went to college. So I will cry for a half hour after each pup. At least I get to visit Jill.
Red pup, blue pup....
They are slowly but surely going away. It is really sad. I am very grateful that they are not going away the bad way which would be via coyote or hawk. They are going to good homes AND one of them is mine. John gave into me keeping one pup. Rocky. He is not the brightest one, that would be Jill which Mom and Dad got, but he is the best farm pup. He waits on us to get home. He doesn't mess with the Red Dog (turns out that red dog is really not red at all, he is a black mouth cur, but whatever). He follows on John's heel wherever he goes AND he sits in my lap to sleep.
And then there were two: Wolfman Jack and Mikey. Mikey will make a great guy dog. Bachelor household. And Jack would make a good family dog. They are mine right now, but God is finding them others who want them.
Mom said when she left today that it was sad her taking a pup. It is sad, but it is so relieving. I was most afraid that Jill would get eaten because she was the most adorable and playful and thus most exposed to being eaten. My tears today were mixed for her to be gone from our farm, but to be well taken care of and for the knowledge that she would live. Relief is a powerful feeling. The boys I don't worry nearly about. I am glad we are down to two. BUt my guess is that my heart will break again when I give them away. It is just one of those things. My Mom cried for six months after I went to college. So I will cry for a half hour after each pup. At least I get to visit Jill.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Adventures in farm life: common sayings
My mother's mother used to say that if the snow stays on the ground for more than three days,
it will snow again.
You know, the numbers of fogs we have in August will be the number of times it snows in the winter.
Don't go plantin' your garden until after the blackberry winter.
These are all sayings that people in this area believe in with ferver. So much so that the local tv show who's host is 70 years old, actually counted the fogs this past August. There was one according to him. He lives quite a piece south from me and I can see why he would have only one fog. We here in the northern end of the world didn't count our fogs. I did one year when I lived in Sautee, there were four, however I remember there only being one snow. Although, I tend to wonder does the snow being on the ground for three days override the fogs in August? How does it effect the blackberry winter? A blackberry winter, btw, is a winter snap just as the blackberry bushes bloom and is the last frost of the year. Never fails to be the last frost. Everytime. I think it is God's way of seeing if we pay attention.
Now people have been saying since Sunday at church the three day rule. The local 70 year old tv host predicted Monday morning that it was going to snow on Friday. WHY would a guy who is not a meteorologist do such a thing? Because he knows! He's 70! So each day I am checking the weather on the dot com and nowhere does it even say precipitation of any kind! Until today. Today it decides that it is going to be 30 degrees on Thursday with a 51% chance of rain. Rain...at thirty degrees? Isn't that snow? Or sleet? Or the newest DQ treat--a wintery mix? Ok so maybe it is not a new DQ flavor, but it should be. THEN on Friday it is going to be 24 degrees and raining. Yeah, the 70 year old pegged it. The snow has been on the ground since last Thursday. Look out for a blizzard and not from DQ.
My mother's mother used to say that if the snow stays on the ground for more than three days,
it will snow again.
You know, the numbers of fogs we have in August will be the number of times it snows in the winter.
Don't go plantin' your garden until after the blackberry winter.
These are all sayings that people in this area believe in with ferver. So much so that the local tv show who's host is 70 years old, actually counted the fogs this past August. There was one according to him. He lives quite a piece south from me and I can see why he would have only one fog. We here in the northern end of the world didn't count our fogs. I did one year when I lived in Sautee, there were four, however I remember there only being one snow. Although, I tend to wonder does the snow being on the ground for three days override the fogs in August? How does it effect the blackberry winter? A blackberry winter, btw, is a winter snap just as the blackberry bushes bloom and is the last frost of the year. Never fails to be the last frost. Everytime. I think it is God's way of seeing if we pay attention.
Now people have been saying since Sunday at church the three day rule. The local 70 year old tv host predicted Monday morning that it was going to snow on Friday. WHY would a guy who is not a meteorologist do such a thing? Because he knows! He's 70! So each day I am checking the weather on the dot com and nowhere does it even say precipitation of any kind! Until today. Today it decides that it is going to be 30 degrees on Thursday with a 51% chance of rain. Rain...at thirty degrees? Isn't that snow? Or sleet? Or the newest DQ treat--a wintery mix? Ok so maybe it is not a new DQ flavor, but it should be. THEN on Friday it is going to be 24 degrees and raining. Yeah, the 70 year old pegged it. The snow has been on the ground since last Thursday. Look out for a blizzard and not from DQ.
Friday, February 02, 2007
SNOW DAY!!! Here in the North Georgia MOuntains we got six inches of snow in under two hours. It was awesome. Everyone was out of school. Everyone was out of work. No one was out except us crazies. There is nothing more fun than driving through fresh snow to see all the beauty it creates.
First things first, gotta eat. Hurray for Wendell's Winter Wonderland. There were blueberry pancakes and hot coffee. Who could ask for anything more?
This is the beautimous Indian Mound. One of my favorite scenes here.
No point in four wheeling if you can't get stuck!
Happy Couple. Our first snow.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
After having such a productive day off on Wednesday, nothing has been productive since. Working has been painful because my job is to wait on customers. THERE ARE NO CUSTOMERS. You'd think my bosses would find something for us to do, but they recognize our powerlessness and don't even bother. Then on Sunday, a day off, you'd think ah! Productivity. Nope, my husband was so tired from being nuts (nuts = staying up for almost 24 hours and being 49 years old), that he slept from 11:30pm on Saturday night until 5pm on Sunday. 5PM! Can you imagine? I got lots of puppy lovin in and read my book that I was so behind on reading. We did eat dinner and go to Lowes to get a lamp shade. We hung out with friends at church and were able to get back home at a suitable hour so I could get to sleep and get up to go to work where there is NOTHING TO DO.
Yeah, can ya tell its winter in North Georgia? They rolled up their sidewalks and went home for the winter. Not to be seen until spring again .
Yeah, can ya tell its winter in North Georgia? They rolled up their sidewalks and went home for the winter. Not to be seen until spring again .
Thursday, January 25, 2007
So yesterday was an eventful day.
First things first, I was able to go to the dentist who looked in my mouth to find a gold mind. It was so bad that he said that on the next visit before any work would be done, he was going to do a comprehensive exam. That means that he will prioritize what has to be done first, how much has to be done and the time period it takes to do it. However, the hygenist was able to eliminate almost all of my smoke stains in my smile. She said that the ones in the back are permanent, but that's no big deal to me because no one can see them. Hurray, no more smoke stains! One thing down, ten thousand dollars left to go.
Then I was able to come home and nap with my husband. This is a treasure as he is working third shift now and I don't normally get to cuddle with him. A real perk to being married is a permanent cuddling buddy. It makes sleeping a lot warmer with a left over sensation of being safe.
About two I went and applied three different places for a table waiting job. Going back to school means waiting tables. This is a good thing because I like waiting tables. Amazingly John, Michelle and Mama all agree that it is a good thing to wait tables. Michelle says that I am in a different place than I used to be and waiting tables is okay. So table waiting I go. Hopefully someone will call soon. I really would enjoy not driving 35 minutes one way on a daily basis. Thirty five minutes means thirty miles up here too. So 15 to Dahlonega would be a welcome change. I miss my walk across the square from my apartment to work. It spoiled me.
Then I took the puppies in for their shots. I have named them all. There is Wolfman Jack, Jill, Rocky and Mikey. They were terrified at the vets office. All four of them crawled into my lap awaiting their shot. Luckily they didn't break the bank on the cost of the shots. I was afraid it would be like a doctor bill. Turns out it was $15 a pup. Perfect! No wonder people don't mind having animals! I have decided to keep Wolfman Jack no matter what however, the rest are to go. I put up a poster in the vet office and at Sweetwater. We shall see if anyone calls. There are not going to be any pups to the pound. I told John to suck it up on that one because all the facilities are kill and there are no non-kills. Nobody is killing my pups. If nature gets them, that's one thing, but there is nothing natural about killing them because they have been in a pound for two weeks. Stupid pound.
Then I went to babysit the Donnellys. AND wrote 45 thank you notes! Per John's request. He was so surprised that he looked at me this morning and said oh, you did them all? NO!!! There are 150 not 45. Stupid. I love him, but sometimes he doesn't get it. He cowered when I just looked at him like--stupid. He offered to do the dishes though, so all is right with the world.
Very eventful day. Hadn't had one of those in a while.
Goodness. It wears me out just writing about it. Ah well, back to the grind.
First things first, I was able to go to the dentist who looked in my mouth to find a gold mind. It was so bad that he said that on the next visit before any work would be done, he was going to do a comprehensive exam. That means that he will prioritize what has to be done first, how much has to be done and the time period it takes to do it. However, the hygenist was able to eliminate almost all of my smoke stains in my smile. She said that the ones in the back are permanent, but that's no big deal to me because no one can see them. Hurray, no more smoke stains! One thing down, ten thousand dollars left to go.
Then I was able to come home and nap with my husband. This is a treasure as he is working third shift now and I don't normally get to cuddle with him. A real perk to being married is a permanent cuddling buddy. It makes sleeping a lot warmer with a left over sensation of being safe.
About two I went and applied three different places for a table waiting job. Going back to school means waiting tables. This is a good thing because I like waiting tables. Amazingly John, Michelle and Mama all agree that it is a good thing to wait tables. Michelle says that I am in a different place than I used to be and waiting tables is okay. So table waiting I go. Hopefully someone will call soon. I really would enjoy not driving 35 minutes one way on a daily basis. Thirty five minutes means thirty miles up here too. So 15 to Dahlonega would be a welcome change. I miss my walk across the square from my apartment to work. It spoiled me.
Then I took the puppies in for their shots. I have named them all. There is Wolfman Jack, Jill, Rocky and Mikey. They were terrified at the vets office. All four of them crawled into my lap awaiting their shot. Luckily they didn't break the bank on the cost of the shots. I was afraid it would be like a doctor bill. Turns out it was $15 a pup. Perfect! No wonder people don't mind having animals! I have decided to keep Wolfman Jack no matter what however, the rest are to go. I put up a poster in the vet office and at Sweetwater. We shall see if anyone calls. There are not going to be any pups to the pound. I told John to suck it up on that one because all the facilities are kill and there are no non-kills. Nobody is killing my pups. If nature gets them, that's one thing, but there is nothing natural about killing them because they have been in a pound for two weeks. Stupid pound.
Then I went to babysit the Donnellys. AND wrote 45 thank you notes! Per John's request. He was so surprised that he looked at me this morning and said oh, you did them all? NO!!! There are 150 not 45. Stupid. I love him, but sometimes he doesn't get it. He cowered when I just looked at him like--stupid. He offered to do the dishes though, so all is right with the world.
Very eventful day. Hadn't had one of those in a while.
Goodness. It wears me out just writing about it. Ah well, back to the grind.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Sometimes I forget why I like the actors/tresses I like. Then I see a movie with them in it and go, oh yeah, only that part could be played by that person. That has happened to me two times in two movies in two days. My youngest step son gave me a movie for Christmas. What more could a step-mom ask for than a child who pays attention? He gave me Kingdom of Heaven. I have actually only seen this movie once in the theatre prior to watching it last night at home. In the theatre I thought it was pretty good. A-. Last night, I realized that this was the part Orlando was cut for. His constant fame of Pirates has made me forget why I liked him in the first place. Turns out the reason I liked him was that prior to Pirates, he could act. I mean convey emotions and lines without ever saying a word. That is acting. He does a lot of that in Kingdom. His character does not say much however when it does the lines are penetraing and the acting is fierce. Do I think the director almost killed the film with the length? Yes. Do I think that Orlando played his part well. Yes. Then the second movie is The Illusionist. I am a bit behind on current movies which is totally out of character for me, but I have been getting married lately so give me a break. Anyway, I don't know when this movie came out on the big screen, but it is great. Solid A. It has good special effects, a constant wanting for more of the plot without being pretentious and a great love story. Who could ask for more? The part that I like best is why I like Edward Norton. I love Edward Norton. I have liked him since he walked on the scene with Primal Fear. Gosh he's good. Kind of like Kevin Spacy and John Malcovich. Just a great actor. He makes Orlando look like a novice. The movie was amazing. The music was good, the timing just right and the cast well done. Gosh I love Edward Norton. He terrifys me and makes me want to fall in love with him. Awesome. I am so glad I am catching up on my movies.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Knock, knock on the door,
Whose it for?
There's nobody in here.
The world has come to an end tonight. Apocolypse is on the way I swear. I ate broccoli for dinner. Not broccoli like put it on my plate and looked at it, but actually digested an entire helping and had seconds. Yes, I said seconds. It had butter, cheese, was steamed in garlic salt and ranch on it. BUT I STILL ATE BROCCOLI.
Willing to go to any lengths...They told me I would have to change my whole life...does this constitute completion? Nope, but I am darn farther down the road than I was yesterday.
Whose it for?
There's nobody in here.
The world has come to an end tonight. Apocolypse is on the way I swear. I ate broccoli for dinner. Not broccoli like put it on my plate and looked at it, but actually digested an entire helping and had seconds. Yes, I said seconds. It had butter, cheese, was steamed in garlic salt and ranch on it. BUT I STILL ATE BROCCOLI.
Willing to go to any lengths...They told me I would have to change my whole life...does this constitute completion? Nope, but I am darn farther down the road than I was yesterday.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Carter likes to hear about life at the farm. The farm is such a new adventure for me that everyday there is something new. We have had new calves. We have had new puppies (all seven puppies have made it to their six week birthday which means they will probably make it to doghood.). There is beautiful sites to see because of the mountains. The farm house is always telling me new secrets, like it has a rock foundation around the front and flashing around the back because of the direction of the typical wind. The wind would really create a draft if there was rocks around the base in the back, but because there is flashing, the wind has less of a chance of getting through. The rocks in the front are loose and the puppies found a hole the other night, which funny enough they can't seem to find again. Wonder why? Maybe because I am smart enough to fill the gap? They are totally confused. It is very funny. The cows are that stupid too. There is a calf caught in the mineral trough today. It crawled in there for more and can't figure out how to get out. As soon as we pulled in from Sweetwater, there it was hollerin at the top of its lungs as though to say: GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!! It was very funny because the rest of the heard was down in the trees where is was nice and warm and dry. You could here the mama cow calling for it going: Come on my stupid child. John is coaxing it out with bread. Did I mention that the cows love pumpernickle bread? They step on their young, brave the electric fence and head butt each other for a single piece of pumpernickle bread.
The nice thing about the farm is that you can tend to a farm and it is not an all day job even though it is a round the clock job. Pups crying at five in the morning. Sick cows needing a shot in the middle of the night. Coyotes howling as Baby, the dog, runs a pack off the land just before you lay down to sleep. Hay in the morning for the cows. Food for the dogs before and after work. Water the cows when you come home. Coax the crazy horse into a carrot once in a while. However, you can always leave for work and know that generally, nothing will change or go atrociously ary.
Today is a sad day in new discovery at the farm. The cow that birth her first calf will have to be put down. The calf was too big and suffocated in the birth canal. The coyotes took care of it. Then the cow remained paralyzed once the whole ordeal was over. Cows have natural epidurals. Once the calf gets into the birth canal, the hips splay and pinch a nerve that creates a temporary paralysis and allieviates all pain of birth. Guess women are the only ones to suffer labor. Because it was a troubled birth, the cow was paralyzed for too long. She hasn't snapped out of it, when normally the hips go back together, release the nerve and walla! Walking cow. There was no walla. She has been leaning up inside the barn for a couple days now and the swelling has overpowered her. She quit eating yesterday. The veteranarian said that they could let her die, because that is what would happen if she were a wild cow--wild cow? Yeah, I think I might have made that phrase up. Because that is what would inevitably happen or put her down ourselves. So John has to put her down.
Somehow this is sad to me. I don't know why exactly, perhaps because there was hope that she would get better? Perhaps because it is a $3500 throw away cow? Perhaps because it was her first calf and it was a horrible experience and she will never know that it doesn't always have to be that bad? Perhaps because I don't know how to not project emotions on things that don't have them? Although, I am beginginng to find that they do have some inclination of emotions. For example, Baby doesn't care for men. Legend, the horse, doesn't trust women and when there is enough people around will show off as though he were five instead of 25. That the pups cry for their mom and cows scream for their young when they are being weaned. Surely, this cow that can't move because its entire hind quarters won't move understands a loss of hope. Surely? I mean a cow is not something to be hunted. It is not something to be petted. It is not something for sport or luxury. But it is something of use. The cow lost its use. We all have a use at the farm and the cow lost its use.
That's sad.
I love this farm. Even the sad parts. It is such a good representation of life. Sometimes things lose their use. I hope I never do. God knows, I just became useful again. Hopefully, nursing school will increase my use. I sure don't want anyone to put me down!
John just came back in--the sick cow ate pumpernickle bread. Walla!
The nice thing about the farm is that you can tend to a farm and it is not an all day job even though it is a round the clock job. Pups crying at five in the morning. Sick cows needing a shot in the middle of the night. Coyotes howling as Baby, the dog, runs a pack off the land just before you lay down to sleep. Hay in the morning for the cows. Food for the dogs before and after work. Water the cows when you come home. Coax the crazy horse into a carrot once in a while. However, you can always leave for work and know that generally, nothing will change or go atrociously ary.
Today is a sad day in new discovery at the farm. The cow that birth her first calf will have to be put down. The calf was too big and suffocated in the birth canal. The coyotes took care of it. Then the cow remained paralyzed once the whole ordeal was over. Cows have natural epidurals. Once the calf gets into the birth canal, the hips splay and pinch a nerve that creates a temporary paralysis and allieviates all pain of birth. Guess women are the only ones to suffer labor. Because it was a troubled birth, the cow was paralyzed for too long. She hasn't snapped out of it, when normally the hips go back together, release the nerve and walla! Walking cow. There was no walla. She has been leaning up inside the barn for a couple days now and the swelling has overpowered her. She quit eating yesterday. The veteranarian said that they could let her die, because that is what would happen if she were a wild cow--wild cow? Yeah, I think I might have made that phrase up. Because that is what would inevitably happen or put her down ourselves. So John has to put her down.
Somehow this is sad to me. I don't know why exactly, perhaps because there was hope that she would get better? Perhaps because it is a $3500 throw away cow? Perhaps because it was her first calf and it was a horrible experience and she will never know that it doesn't always have to be that bad? Perhaps because I don't know how to not project emotions on things that don't have them? Although, I am beginginng to find that they do have some inclination of emotions. For example, Baby doesn't care for men. Legend, the horse, doesn't trust women and when there is enough people around will show off as though he were five instead of 25. That the pups cry for their mom and cows scream for their young when they are being weaned. Surely, this cow that can't move because its entire hind quarters won't move understands a loss of hope. Surely? I mean a cow is not something to be hunted. It is not something to be petted. It is not something for sport or luxury. But it is something of use. The cow lost its use. We all have a use at the farm and the cow lost its use.
That's sad.
I love this farm. Even the sad parts. It is such a good representation of life. Sometimes things lose their use. I hope I never do. God knows, I just became useful again. Hopefully, nursing school will increase my use. I sure don't want anyone to put me down!
John just came back in--the sick cow ate pumpernickle bread. Walla!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! I GET IT! I was a horrible daughter to sort of, kind of, not tell the truth about how much homework I really had! Maybe not a horrible daughter, but a real pain in the neck. I can't believe the sins of the daughter are revisited on her by her girlfriend's kid. How is that possible? Grace had typed notes that had to be turned in tomorrow and she has known all week about it. How do I know that she has known all week? It is on her agenda that they send home at the end and beginning of every week. Craig went out of town as planned and they needed a computer. John let them borrow the home computer and for no apparent reason I am the one up at eleven o'clock at night after just packing up the computer and printer to ride home for twenty minutes to my house. Grace is asleep by now. This is what I get for saying sure, you have a few notes to type up, no problem. A FEW NOTES? It was four pages long, single spaced! On Dickens no less. DICKENS. That is hard stuff for a twelve year old especially when she is wicked smart like Grace. She has sentence structure that would embarass freshman at UGA. There are no such things as notes to her. All at once as I was printing up the notes and Sherry and Craig, who came home at the end of the process, were desperately looking for paper to print on and all I could think was of being up at two in the morning with my Dad trying without succeeding to finish a social science project when I would never make an A. But it wasn't two in the morning, I am here at home by midnight blogging about child hood flashbacks that could righteously be construed as nightmares for my parents. Thank goodness for it only being notes. Thank goodness it is not quite midnight. Thank goodness I am no longer twelve. Thank goodness. Just thank goodnes...
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
There is nothing like a good piece of clothing to make you feel better, give you encouragement and lighten the spirit. Yes, I am giving a lot of power to something as material and trivial as a cashmere, longsleve, black sweater, however, sometimes that is all it takes to make me happy.
Actually, John took me shopping on Sunday. My love for John is what really makes me happy. He thought that I would like something from Sax because I have found a couple of things there before at the 400 outlets. Unfortunately, there was nothing at Sax. Well there might have been but due to the chaos of new management, there was no way to find anything. It was about like shopping at the Salvation Army. For Sax, that is saying something. So I went to Ann Taylor and LOVED the whole store and went to Brooks Brothers for women and LOVED the whole store. I found about several hundreds of dollars that I would love to dress in on a daily basis. Instead I got three pieces. I still managed to leap over the first hundred dollar mark. John didn't seem to care how much I spent. I think that is a guy thing. Guys like to buy pretty things for their gal. I watched my Dad buy pretty things for my Mom all my life. She lights up similar to the way I light up when John gives me something. I picked out a PINK--I can't believe that it is pink--button down, tapered shirt and a set of grey pants. The pants that I picked out are slightly too tight. They fit perfectly. They are the size I want to be too--well actually I want to be a size smaller, but I really hate buying a size bigger. They fit in the legs, the waist and the length, but there is that line...you know the line, around the pockets and highlighting the panties. ERG. So I bought them anyway and am determined not to wear them until I can.
It is amazing what a little motivation can do for a gal: as a result, I dropped dance due to assessment that 1) I have not lost any weight rather maintained the weight I had; 2) It is getting expensive on so many levels: money, time, miles on the car; finally 3) if I am willing to drive all the way to Athens to dance, then I am willing to stay at home and run. So I ran. Monday I ran a mile and walked a mile cool down. Tuesday I ran a mile with only a lap cool down due how dark it got because of snow clouds and that my friend was in the hospital and I needed to go see him. Today, I will probably do the new pilates dvd that my Mom gave me three months ago. Don't get me wrong, I am not doing this on my own. I am running with this chica from work. She is eighteen and a senior in highschool. She is the one who turned me on to nursing. She is positive and helpful as she used to run cross country and can remember what her coach said to her where as I cannot to save my life. She also loves to run and had been upset that she had to quit competitive running due to a heart murmur. I asked her if I was running fast and she smiled. I asked her what her miles were when she was running competitively, she said six minutes and under on a rare occasion. Now I know why she smiled. Her mother and brother and boyfriend think that it is nuts that we are running in 32 degree weather. I think it is exciting that I have FINALLY become willing to go any lengths to become happy with my body and my wieght. I am also excited that God sent me a running mate. We dress in three layers: long johns, extra t-shirt and sweats. By the time we are on our second lap we are warm and she is sweating. It takes me to the third lap to break a sweat. We are running in Pitts Park and you'd think that we'd be the only ones out there, but there is a soccer fiend from the highschool boys soccer team who is out there, an older man who is probably on a health watch and several teenagers who have the words I DO DRUGS stamped across their forehead cuddling together as though it is romantic to be at the park with their s.o.'s in freezing temperatures. Whatever! Did I mention my running buddy's name? Angel. Funny huh? She is my running Angel.
My guess is that the lovely black sweater, that was the third piece of my purchase on Sunday, is not the reason I feel good today. My guess is that it is my spiritual experience in becoming active in my life again. I have wanted for a long time to be willing to lose weight, to be willing to do what it takes, to be Rocky and overcome the odds of me growing into a plump American. I have known for years the most successful way for me to do so is to run. I have not been willing. I have been praying for months to become willing. My first step was becoming willing to dance.
In the process of dancing in the past four months, I have found that I am completely powerless over what I eat. If you say icecream, I scream until I get it. If you say chocolate, there is no help for me, my body will obsess over it until it is in me. The only relief is it being devoured. In the past three days, there has not been a craving for either. I have eaten well and not obsessed. I have been praying for a while: God please remove the obsession to eat more than I need and in the past three days that has been true. Michelle says that it is a process and that faith in God will ease the way and give me strength to do the things that are best for me. The prayer is something she suggested and it seems to be working. I feel better today. I have hope that I will continue to feel better about myself from here on out. I don't know what is on the horizon for me, but I know that as long as I keep taking care of myself, it will lead to God's will.
This scripture comes to mind: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, mind and soul, lean not on your own understanding. I would tell you the book, chapter and verse, but I don't know it. Maybe Corinthians. I don't think it matters, it just matters that I know the word of God.
I am grateful today. I am grateful I know my God. I am grateful I know his Word and can apply it to my life. I am grateful to be willing today. I am grateful for cashmere. I am grateful for powerlessness and the power of prayer. I am grateful for my running Angel.
Actually, John took me shopping on Sunday. My love for John is what really makes me happy. He thought that I would like something from Sax because I have found a couple of things there before at the 400 outlets. Unfortunately, there was nothing at Sax. Well there might have been but due to the chaos of new management, there was no way to find anything. It was about like shopping at the Salvation Army. For Sax, that is saying something. So I went to Ann Taylor and LOVED the whole store and went to Brooks Brothers for women and LOVED the whole store. I found about several hundreds of dollars that I would love to dress in on a daily basis. Instead I got three pieces. I still managed to leap over the first hundred dollar mark. John didn't seem to care how much I spent. I think that is a guy thing. Guys like to buy pretty things for their gal. I watched my Dad buy pretty things for my Mom all my life. She lights up similar to the way I light up when John gives me something. I picked out a PINK--I can't believe that it is pink--button down, tapered shirt and a set of grey pants. The pants that I picked out are slightly too tight. They fit perfectly. They are the size I want to be too--well actually I want to be a size smaller, but I really hate buying a size bigger. They fit in the legs, the waist and the length, but there is that line...you know the line, around the pockets and highlighting the panties. ERG. So I bought them anyway and am determined not to wear them until I can.
It is amazing what a little motivation can do for a gal: as a result, I dropped dance due to assessment that 1) I have not lost any weight rather maintained the weight I had; 2) It is getting expensive on so many levels: money, time, miles on the car; finally 3) if I am willing to drive all the way to Athens to dance, then I am willing to stay at home and run. So I ran. Monday I ran a mile and walked a mile cool down. Tuesday I ran a mile with only a lap cool down due how dark it got because of snow clouds and that my friend was in the hospital and I needed to go see him. Today, I will probably do the new pilates dvd that my Mom gave me three months ago. Don't get me wrong, I am not doing this on my own. I am running with this chica from work. She is eighteen and a senior in highschool. She is the one who turned me on to nursing. She is positive and helpful as she used to run cross country and can remember what her coach said to her where as I cannot to save my life. She also loves to run and had been upset that she had to quit competitive running due to a heart murmur. I asked her if I was running fast and she smiled. I asked her what her miles were when she was running competitively, she said six minutes and under on a rare occasion. Now I know why she smiled. Her mother and brother and boyfriend think that it is nuts that we are running in 32 degree weather. I think it is exciting that I have FINALLY become willing to go any lengths to become happy with my body and my wieght. I am also excited that God sent me a running mate. We dress in three layers: long johns, extra t-shirt and sweats. By the time we are on our second lap we are warm and she is sweating. It takes me to the third lap to break a sweat. We are running in Pitts Park and you'd think that we'd be the only ones out there, but there is a soccer fiend from the highschool boys soccer team who is out there, an older man who is probably on a health watch and several teenagers who have the words I DO DRUGS stamped across their forehead cuddling together as though it is romantic to be at the park with their s.o.'s in freezing temperatures. Whatever! Did I mention my running buddy's name? Angel. Funny huh? She is my running Angel.
My guess is that the lovely black sweater, that was the third piece of my purchase on Sunday, is not the reason I feel good today. My guess is that it is my spiritual experience in becoming active in my life again. I have wanted for a long time to be willing to lose weight, to be willing to do what it takes, to be Rocky and overcome the odds of me growing into a plump American. I have known for years the most successful way for me to do so is to run. I have not been willing. I have been praying for months to become willing. My first step was becoming willing to dance.
In the process of dancing in the past four months, I have found that I am completely powerless over what I eat. If you say icecream, I scream until I get it. If you say chocolate, there is no help for me, my body will obsess over it until it is in me. The only relief is it being devoured. In the past three days, there has not been a craving for either. I have eaten well and not obsessed. I have been praying for a while: God please remove the obsession to eat more than I need and in the past three days that has been true. Michelle says that it is a process and that faith in God will ease the way and give me strength to do the things that are best for me. The prayer is something she suggested and it seems to be working. I feel better today. I have hope that I will continue to feel better about myself from here on out. I don't know what is on the horizon for me, but I know that as long as I keep taking care of myself, it will lead to God's will.
This scripture comes to mind: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, mind and soul, lean not on your own understanding. I would tell you the book, chapter and verse, but I don't know it. Maybe Corinthians. I don't think it matters, it just matters that I know the word of God.
I am grateful today. I am grateful I know my God. I am grateful I know his Word and can apply it to my life. I am grateful to be willing today. I am grateful for cashmere. I am grateful for powerlessness and the power of prayer. I am grateful for my running Angel.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I want to be a teacher....well, it would mean that I would have to get a masters in teaching because my degree does not qualify to teach.
I want to be a lawyer....except I don't want to have to take an LSAT or a bar exam. Both are large and frightening to a point of paralysis.
I want to be a nurse. Maybe. I am gathering information. So far I have found out that I cannot get into nursing school because my GPA is too low from college. What does that mean? Once again, I have spent $80k on an education that is worthless. BUT, she says. The lady at the admissions office for the school of nursing, I couldn't get in anyway for fall of 2007, it would be at least fall of 2008 so I could go ahead and take the courses in the general college, raise my gpa and have the qualifying courses I would need anyway and take less when I get accepted to the school of nursing. 5-600 apply every year to the school and they only take 100 students. And Georgia wonders why we have a nursing shortage? So you might very well get in, just not this year. AND, she says. The lady from the nursing school, that I have to get into the undergraduate program at the college first before the nursing school will even consider me. So what does that mean?
I applied today for the undergraduate program at the college. I sent in an application, $25 check and had my transcripts faxed for what it is worth. The deadline is January 9, I just made it. They asked me for extra-curricular activities, I said Quilters and Godspell, growing up and becoming an adult. I hope I get in. I meet all the requirements for the undergrad program. Who knows. Maybe. I have to make A's to bring up my gpa. A's in Anatomy, Physiology and MicroBiology. Just saying the course names scare me. Maybe.
What do I want to be when I grow up? Something. God please tell me what, but something.
I want to be a teacher....well, it would mean that I would have to get a masters in teaching because my degree does not qualify to teach.
I want to be a lawyer....except I don't want to have to take an LSAT or a bar exam. Both are large and frightening to a point of paralysis.
I want to be a nurse. Maybe. I am gathering information. So far I have found out that I cannot get into nursing school because my GPA is too low from college. What does that mean? Once again, I have spent $80k on an education that is worthless. BUT, she says. The lady at the admissions office for the school of nursing, I couldn't get in anyway for fall of 2007, it would be at least fall of 2008 so I could go ahead and take the courses in the general college, raise my gpa and have the qualifying courses I would need anyway and take less when I get accepted to the school of nursing. 5-600 apply every year to the school and they only take 100 students. And Georgia wonders why we have a nursing shortage? So you might very well get in, just not this year. AND, she says. The lady from the nursing school, that I have to get into the undergraduate program at the college first before the nursing school will even consider me. So what does that mean?
I applied today for the undergraduate program at the college. I sent in an application, $25 check and had my transcripts faxed for what it is worth. The deadline is January 9, I just made it. They asked me for extra-curricular activities, I said Quilters and Godspell, growing up and becoming an adult. I hope I get in. I meet all the requirements for the undergrad program. Who knows. Maybe. I have to make A's to bring up my gpa. A's in Anatomy, Physiology and MicroBiology. Just saying the course names scare me. Maybe.
What do I want to be when I grow up? Something. God please tell me what, but something.
Monday, January 01, 2007
So, how's married life?
This is the question that everyone is asking me these days. The reality answer is I DON"T KNOW. The answer I give is, "Well, it's different." Typically, I get a good chuckle or a smile. It is the correct answer. Marriage is different. Mostly change is the difference. Most people have about one major change at a time. I had four out of five. The only other person I know that this has happened to and survived is my mother. I had a instrumental person in my life die. I moved to a new home. I got married. I got a new job. The only thing left is to get a divorce. So when I answer different, I mean really different. There are days when I am overwhelmed with joy and have no choice but to cry, like the day John brought home a Christmas tree, or the day we picked up our new cabinets that our friend gave us, or the day the puppies were born. Then there are the days that I am overwhelmed with the differences/changes and I have no choice but to cry, like the day I realized that I only got to see my family for ten hours for Christmas instead of four days or that I have more my family than I can ever imagine, or that I can't imagine my life without John or that I don't know why everyone doesn't live on a farm. Married life is confusing. I have found some benefits to married life: John loves doing laundry and vaccumming; heavy lifting, bugs and nastiness is no longer a problem; coffee is always made for me in the morning. There are some not so good things too: Some of my clothes have shrunk; there is no dishwasher other than myself; computer time is limited because I don't have priority to the computer because I am not working only in entertainment and finally, there is NO ROOM in the home.
All that being said, we have puppies. Puppies make the world better. There are somewhere between four and six of them. The stongest toppled out the other day and John loved on it and tossed it back under the house with the others. I saw them for the first time today. They are in a pile under the house and are black and white and brown. They are all Baby's puppies. Beautiful. We also have four new calves. And there is a new butter dish on its way. There are new things everyday and much like the puppies, they make me happy. More than anything, married live is happiness at this point. I can't imagine a more loving husband or a warmer home. God knows what's next in my life, but right now, I'm happy.
This is the question that everyone is asking me these days. The reality answer is I DON"T KNOW. The answer I give is, "Well, it's different." Typically, I get a good chuckle or a smile. It is the correct answer. Marriage is different. Mostly change is the difference. Most people have about one major change at a time. I had four out of five. The only other person I know that this has happened to and survived is my mother. I had a instrumental person in my life die. I moved to a new home. I got married. I got a new job. The only thing left is to get a divorce. So when I answer different, I mean really different. There are days when I am overwhelmed with joy and have no choice but to cry, like the day John brought home a Christmas tree, or the day we picked up our new cabinets that our friend gave us, or the day the puppies were born. Then there are the days that I am overwhelmed with the differences/changes and I have no choice but to cry, like the day I realized that I only got to see my family for ten hours for Christmas instead of four days or that I have more my family than I can ever imagine, or that I can't imagine my life without John or that I don't know why everyone doesn't live on a farm. Married life is confusing. I have found some benefits to married life: John loves doing laundry and vaccumming; heavy lifting, bugs and nastiness is no longer a problem; coffee is always made for me in the morning. There are some not so good things too: Some of my clothes have shrunk; there is no dishwasher other than myself; computer time is limited because I don't have priority to the computer because I am not working only in entertainment and finally, there is NO ROOM in the home.
All that being said, we have puppies. Puppies make the world better. There are somewhere between four and six of them. The stongest toppled out the other day and John loved on it and tossed it back under the house with the others. I saw them for the first time today. They are in a pile under the house and are black and white and brown. They are all Baby's puppies. Beautiful. We also have four new calves. And there is a new butter dish on its way. There are new things everyday and much like the puppies, they make me happy. More than anything, married live is happiness at this point. I can't imagine a more loving husband or a warmer home. God knows what's next in my life, but right now, I'm happy.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
I have learned a new facet of life at the farm. Two facets, actually: family and death. Both of which I have been introduced to in the past 24 hours. There are several who live in Gilelland: Doyle and his wife (Albert's Brother), Gerald and Shelby (he is a man a lot like John...considered family without blood relation), Bert (Albert Taylor, Jr.), Albert and Martha Jean aka Papa Bud and Mama Jean, John and Myself and Paul (he is an ex-son-in-law). In this family of sorts, death has cast its shadow: Albert Taylor, Jr. had a heart attack yesterday morning in his home. I had not been exposed to this family other than Mama Jean and Papa Bud. I do not know dynamics or stories or how people act or don't act. It is a new family to me. I aslo do not know my role. I am the newest in this family and while I am not a new baby, I recieve as much love and acceptance as one even though there is someone missing. I have never met Bert. I invited him to the wedding, unfortunately, he works in the funeral business and was called away. Odd, I never think that a funeral man would die. Irony about it was that the night prior, he was showing his parents the way he wanted his funeral laid out when he died. He loved being a funeral assistant so much that he'd applied to apprentice for a director, a morticianer. And now, he's dead. Just odd. Turns out, just like everything else on the farm, I have a use. I have special use in this time of grieving: listening. I am the listener. All the stories that I have heard and can tell in my own family like Uncle Bobby riding the bike through the dining room and cutting his hand up through the glass door, 'the boys' dismantling my grandmother's car the same day grandaddy bought it or mom screaming out the window for some boy to go away; I have never heard in this family. There are many of them, like how Albert Sr. and Martha met, how Bert caught a timber rattler and was on tv, the scandal between ex-s, the beauty of daughters and the achievements of sons. My other responsibility is to comfort. I am comforting Albert and Martha Jean, anything that needs to be done, I do. John does the heavy lifting stuff, emotionally hard stuff and the just plain things that have to be done stuff and I do the comforting,tending and listening. I have use. I am finding with each minute that I listen that it is more important that I keep listening.
Tonight I listened to the big house (Albert and Martha Jean's) and the fire as it breathed while we waited for the family to return from the visitation. Mama Jean wanted someone at the house so no one would steal anything and to recieve visitors in case they stop. That is what we did, John and I. Once the family returned I went back to listening to them. They said there were 896 names in the book at the funeral home, probably 1000 that came through the line and that there was a two hour weight just to see Papa Bud and Mama Jean.
Tomorrow, I will go and listen again. I will listen to a preach I don't know preach about a man I have never met. I will listen to the family I live with tell stories I have never heard. I will listen to the sounds of silence that hold the greiving hearts of my family.
Tonight I listened to the big house (Albert and Martha Jean's) and the fire as it breathed while we waited for the family to return from the visitation. Mama Jean wanted someone at the house so no one would steal anything and to recieve visitors in case they stop. That is what we did, John and I. Once the family returned I went back to listening to them. They said there were 896 names in the book at the funeral home, probably 1000 that came through the line and that there was a two hour weight just to see Papa Bud and Mama Jean.
Tomorrow, I will go and listen again. I will listen to a preach I don't know preach about a man I have never met. I will listen to the family I live with tell stories I have never heard. I will listen to the sounds of silence that hold the greiving hearts of my family.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
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.
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.
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)