I Employed Some Chicks, But I Still Love My Husband.

I wish I could have some chickens.

I think.

At least in my mind I dream about a little house in the country with a few chickens running around my grassy yard full of crazy growing zinnias and other colorful flowers.

So I've gotten some chickens.

Sort of.

I met a gentleman at the farmer's market last time who came up with (what I think) is a brilliant concept.

Adopt-A-Chicken.

No, I'm not kidding.

For $5 a week, you adopt 4 chickens. Chip (the farmer) takes care of them, making sure they have plenty of grass, grain and bugs and space so they'll be happy chickens. Then he brings you the eggs for free.

Yes, I know it's ridiculous, but doesn't it sound better than $5 for a dozen organic eggs? I think it is a brilliant marketing concept that focuses the consumer on the care of the hen rather than the product. It doesn't sound like much at all to say $5 a week to care for 4 chickens now, does it?

So off I headed yesterday to Adcote Acres with my girl and "Mrs. Greensleeves", one of my clients. (She's in it for the chicken poop for her garden more than the eggs.) We took some photos of "our" chickens.

Coincidentally, we were encouraged to name our chickens and Mrs. Greensleeves proposed some biblical names:

Faith

Hope

Charity

and

Jezebel

Love it.

More Than I Bargained For

I worked out this morning, but if it hadn't been at the insistence of the personal trainer, I may not have (and probably should not have) gone to the gym this morning.

It started when the alarm went off at 5:30. Instead of popping up and feeling awake, I groggily bounced off the walls to the bathroom, found my gym clothes, dressed and finding that had taken all of three minutes, I reset the alarm and went back to bed.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm up again and on my way to the gym.

Once I got there, I decided I didn't want to carry around all the keys I own, so I found the gym card on my key ring and took that set of keys in with me--after studiously looking at them and sternly telling myself not to lose them. I put the rest of my keys in the hidey hole for safe keeping

We're cruising along in our workout when I look up into one of the mirrors and think, "wow, my shirt design really has faded. And I can read it in the mirror. That's weird....OHHH, my shirt's on inside out!" The girl I'm working out with and my personal trainer just look at me and say they thought I meant for it to be that way! Really?!

Finally (!) we're done and I head out and it's only halfway to the truck that I realize the keys in my hand will do me absolutely no good because I am holding the keys to the car in my hand. The keys to the truck are in the hidey-hole inside the locked truck.

Fortunately, since I had just worked out, I was full of endorphins and didn't panic. I walked back in the gym and tried to call my husband knowing that was a fruitless venture BECAUSE HE WAS ASLEEP IN BED AND COULDN'T HEAR A FREIGHT TRAIN GO THROUGH THE BEDROOM.

Home is so far away when you are across town with wheels you can't access.

Endorphins fast fading, I found my personal trainer who graciously agreed to ride my pitiful self home.

I bet if I had run/walked home, I wouldn't have to work out any more this week!

Life, Gurgle, Gurgle

Overwhelmed.


You name it, it's overwhelming me.



I realize that I'm just going through feelings of inadequacy right now and I need to recognize them for what they are: changeable as the wind-- feelings.

Sometimes it feels the world is going to fly apart in a million pieces.

O.K. My world is already in a million pieces. A world where carpets are half torn out, cats are throwing up, toddlers are rebelling and husbands are as stubborn and strong minded as I am. But somehow, I juggle it and keep it all aloft. I'm successful at many things, but when I'm on the inside looking out, I feel it's all a mirage; a carefully crafted scene for the world (who is on the outside looking in) to see.

I wonder if a lot of people are that way; creating mirages so others think everything is hunky-dory. I especially wonder that on days when I want someone else's life. "They" obviously have it together. Bills paid, house organized, marriage blissful (always)... I create perfect little life scenes for them to escape my imperfections.

When I grow overwhelmed, my facade crumbles. I drive to work sitting up very straight as if by holding myself so, I can hold my world together. I overcompensate my loss of control (of things I have no control over in the first place) by becoming bossy and in charge in tiny things that don't really matter. I'm this way at work mostly, where: "I say who, I say when, I say how much."

I hate when I get like this. I, the eternal optimist. The one with the can-do philosophy. I think (truth be told) the reason I get so out of sorts when life piles up on top of me, is the fact that there is no quick fix. And I'm a fixer par excellence'. I love fixing whether it's a bad haircut, a leaky faucet or your life. I'm a fixer.

Fortunately, after a couple of days, my vision shifts again, I get a second wind and I find myself breathing more normally and realizing it will even out...eventually.

Bet You've Never Tried This!

So I go to the Farmer's Market Saturday.

Among the vegetable vendors I spy a couple selling boiled peanuts. MMMMmmm. I love me some good boiled peanuts! As I was talking to them, the gentleman said, "Here, try this cake here. I'm trying something new. It's called 'Collard Green cake'."

I was torn. I do like collard greens and I do like cake. I just never dreamed they would marry up together! Unfortunately, I'm unable to resist the words "cream cheese icing", so I had a piece.

It was green.

Not a natural green.

More of a light St. Patrick's Day Green. Icing and all.

At his urging to take a big 'ole slab, I took a small one.

I bit.

Tasted like cake. A dense cake. Not sweet, so the icing was a good touch. He wanted to know if it were marketable.

I told him as long as he didn't tell anyone it had collards in it, perhaps he could.

Collard Green Cake.

Coming to a bakery near you.

Can This Day Get Any Better?!

I just went to my favorite coffee place and discovered that my mega nonfat latte was free today!

Exercising--Redefined

Instead of going to Body Pump this morning, I'm testing the effectiveness of getting dressed in workout clothes and sitting at the computer investigating different styles of exercise.

Specifically, watching YouTube Pilate videos.

I call it vicarious exercise.

vi·car·i·ous
Pronunciation:
\vī-ˈker-ē-əs, və-\
Function:
adjective
Etymology:
Latin vicarius, from vicis change, alternation, stead — more at week
Date:
1637
1 a: serving instead of someone or something else b: that has been delegated
2: performed or suffered by one person as a substitute for another or to the benefit or advantage of another : substitutionary
3: experienced or realized through imaginative or sympathetic participation in the experience of another
4: occurring in an unexpected or abnormal part of the body instead of the usual one

Hey, I could start a new trend in exercising!

Who Knew?

Who knew six years ago that I would be wishing you a Happy Father's Day?

We had no idea what we were in for, we just knew we had been handed a gift beyond measure.

How things have changed!

I have grown to admire you so much as I've watched you grow to fill the role of Daddy. Nothing is more attractive to me than watching you as you tenderly love our daughter.

You are indeed, a good Daddy.

But it hasn't come easily, has it?

It has pulled and stretched us. Our relationship has been sorely tested. Being parents has brought to the fore aspects of us that I think we never realized were there. I've wondered, sometimes, if we would stand the strain.

Thank you for the sacrifices you have made to be a stay at home Daddy.

You've sacrificed your very manhood, unselfishly, in order to provide for our family on a higher, intangible level. I've watched you wrestle with the emotions that are a result of that, and all I can say is how grateful I am for you. For your passion and love for your two girls.

You are an incredible man.

I love you so much.

Growing Up

I never dreamed six years ago that I would be doing some of the things that I'm doing now.

Like signing up my first and only child for preschool.

Amazing.

How could my heart could become so enwebbed (is that a word?) in someone that I would be loath to share her with the world-- in any way shape or form?

When I look at my daughter, I see this child who is precious in her innocence. An innocence that I want to preserve all of her days. Impossible, I know, but still...

Until now, her exposure has been limited to the nucleus of the three of us predominately. Now, I must open up her world and allow others to influence and teach her. These are good things, I know, but in my selfishness, I want to keep her all to myself. She's too precious and special--will others know this? Will they protect her innocence as fiercely as I want to? Probably not and that's what scares me a little.

I know that when our children are born to us we are to begin letting go even as they are given to us. But how do I let go of someone who has become such a part of me?

It's bittersweet to watch her grow up. While I rejoice in each new ability she acquires and boast of her abilities, I also grieve over the fact that she loses a bit of her baby-ishness. That little chubby faced toddler, pointing and jabbering her own language. The baby who nestled at my breast her compact weight making a perfect bundle to snuggle.

All of these thoughts and emotions tumbled through my heart yesterday as I drove home.

Makes me think my girl isn't the only one growing up.

Streaming...

Nothing much going on around here to speak of.

I'm sure I'll stir up some trouble of some sort around the house this weekend.

The closet needs some serious attention and then vines have begun sneaking up some of the windows of the house.
Walls need to be finished painting after last weekend when I walked around, paint brush in hand looking for something to paint so I could use up the paint I'd poured out.

I ache to do something creative. Paint for personal pleasure; but the house is in too much disarray right now to even consider that. I will use that as my motivation...

Hubby brought the TV back in. I've not had a chance to even glance at it, but a good movie sounds good right about now.

Just planning on riding the stream of the weekend and see where it will carry me...

Time Passes

Life is rather day to day right now.

Swinging in the hammock 0f tedium.

Work, home.

Back and forth.

Time passes.

Marked by the pendelum of me.

Progress...At Last

I've been working out with the personal trainer for 2 full months now.

She measured me today.


Last month, I was so disappointed. I thought I was working my behind off and come to find out; not as much as I thought. I did lose 2% body fat though and when I went shopping for some clothes for work, I found I was needing a size or two smaller in the waist! Yippee!

This month, I didn't have my hopes quite as high, having settled into reality a bit more. I wasn't expecting much change especially after having a pms bowl of birthday cake ice cream yesterday (full fat and sugar!). I've eaten pretty well, but less fanatically than I did that first month. So imagine my surprise when I found out that I've again lost 2% body fat and I've lost 2 1/2 inches overall!

That's what I needed to hear today as my body felt it was slogging through molasses.

Hurray!

Transparency

I think of heaven, but imagine how I want heaven to be.

Sometimes, my perception of other people's lives are how I picture a sort of heaven. Maybe it's just my concept of what I wish my idealistic life was like...

I picture myself living the life of a freewheeling, bohemian (minus the drugs and indiscriminate sex) artist in the country somewhere. I probably live a real life version of that in my actual life, but I feel so inhibited.

What would I be like if I were single?

That's probably a rather dangerous trail to think about. Perhaps at this point in my life, I feel a bit of sorrow over the fact that I've never lived as a single woman. I've always been tied to someone...parents and now husband. My independence gets in the way a lot now that it's blossomed into full flower. I have to squelch it because I can't live purely to my own pleasure, I'm married, not to mention have a child. I scratch and grab at moments to string together to call my own. I feel guilty and desperate all at once.

Sometimes, I wish I were alone and then I'm scared to death that God will punish me for thinking that by making it so.

All of these thoughts are incredibly selfish, (I take this luxury in expressing them here) but how can I be less so?

I Just Don't Get It

I cannot comprehend how, one day, Clinton is bashing Obama and then ready to be his Vice President the next.

The political process baffles me.

From Overhauling to Overwhelmed

Gosh, I feel I haven't talked to you in soooo long. I've just posted info so you'd know I'm alive.
For some reason it feels life is really busy right now. I don't know that it's busier than usual, but I'm tired.

From my last pics, you can see that I began my closet project. It all started with that trip to Florida. While I was away, the hubby began to play. So to speak.

He rented a storage unit with the idea "let's practically move out of the house so the house will be decluttered and go through the stuff at the storage unit."

Yeah, but, 90 DOLLARS FOR A CLIMATE CONTROLLED STORAGE UNIT?!

My idea was more, I don't know... FREE and involved piles of stuff in the front yard. What we couldn't go through, we'd just post a sign and let people have.

Unfortunately for me, as far as being right goes, my hubby was kind of right and the living room looks a lot bigger and I really don't miss anything out of it at this point. (He mostly carted off books and cd's) Except on Wednesday morning, I miss the t.v. I like to work out to a dvd on Weds. He took the t.v. away so he wouldn't be distracted while he was working that weekend. I hardly watch it and fall asleep when I do. And the living room looks bigger without it.

Anyway, what with all this organizational posturing that we've been doing. (Which means sometimes making a bigger mess going through stuff than we had before we started) I decided to tackle the closet. I'm not talking let's go through some clothes cleaning out the closet, I'm talking take it to the bare walls and start over.

So I have.

Last weekend was the painting and go to Lowe's and stand and consider the closet organizational options. Gasp at the cost it will take to get all that you need to kit out the closet to look like the beautiful promotional picture. Realize if you do much less than that you'll have a closet rod and a few shelves. Decide to by it about a piece or two at the time.

Realize your bedroom looks like a department store threw up in it. And it's going to be that way for awhile.

Sigh and consider moving to a nudist colony.

Being the Mom of a Four Year Old Means...

I may find myself at some point during the day, wearing a orange star sticker on my shirt.

I'll have a pocketful of rocks which double as money to pay the toll waiting for me as I run a curcuit throught the house.

When I deliver a directive, I'm guaranteed a "But Mom!..."

I can count on a song from the movie, "Mary Poppins" at various times throughout the day.

My heart stops when I walk outside and don't see her immediately (especially if she doesn't answer my call right away.)

Being told how to do things.

Baking Christmas sugar cookies at least every other week.

Remembering to be in awe of new discoveries. Like a new bug we've never seen before.

There's someone, besides my husband, to aggravate the cats.

I'll never go to bed early or sleep late again.

I get the blessing of unexpected help when it comes to projects around the house.


And I'm completely fine with that.

Rawsome!

Check out The Daily Raw.

This concept fascinates me. I'm not there yet, but can you imagine?

Have you tried this?

Would you?