I Like Simple

Life is hard. It's complex and frustrating and the threads of everyone's needs do not weave together neatly- most of the time the schedules I need to keep up with are all balled up and knotted together, a rat's nest of responsibilities in my head.

By the time I've paid attention to everyone and everything at home and at work I feel fortunate to get 10 minutes alone to read...even if it's while I'm peeing.

But that's ok. I've learned, as a survival tactic, to really ferret out and mentally highlight the best things, the simple, singular things that make my life truly wonderful.

We have a number of sweet gum trees- most of them gigantic sentries one person can't encircle with their arms. None of them have exactly the same hue right now- from spun gold to blood scarlet each and every one of them whispers a different note in autumns' song.

I think the hummingbirds are gone- I haven't seen one in weeks and the feeder is still full. I'm loathe to take it down yet- I have to believe there's one hummingbird out there who's running behind, been delayed, got a late start to wherever they go for the winter...a hummingbird equivalent of myself. And I know that I'd appreciate seeing a beacon of ruby nectar while frantically trying to catch up.

The little things, the simple things.

Laundry seemingly alive on the line- inhaling the breeze and exhaling the scent of laundry soap to and fro, back and forth.

The last walk-through of the house at night- checking the doors, turning off lights, picking up and putting away dog toys and making sure everyone is where they are supposed to be, tucked in and cozy.

Gazing up at the black velvet night sky shot through with star diamonds.

Watching the nocturnal progression of the moon- first through my office window, then the dining room skylight and finally the bedroom gable window before it disappears behind the cedars.

Standing in the morning shower- hot water from the well without a hint of chlorine, walls of wood, sunshine through the window, river rocks under my feet.

The absolute and complete happiness of coming home- whether I've been gone an hour or a week- just passing through the gate lowers my blood pressure.

The daily comfortable thrill of my horse at the evening feeding, especially if she's grazing at the top of the meadow- I call her name and her head comes up, ears forward, and she flies down the hill on thundering hooves- tail flagging, nostrils flaring- every inch a Queen of the Desert and she graciously deigns to be kissed on the muzzle.

My boy and his dog running across the bridge in search of adventure- one long legged and slender, the other short legged and long.

The world around us is changing and unsteady on its feet.

The world we've made here is safe and sheltering and we are spectators- a family of deer mice snuggled down in fallen leaves while the restless lemmings stream by.

Being of Sicilian heritage, one of the most important simple things is food- food for my family- healthy food to nourish their tummies and hearts.

The other day I made applesauce. I've made it before, but not for a good long while, and never with an audience. The boys watched curiously.

I peeled and cored 6 apples, cutting them into quarters. Placed them in a pan with 1/2 cup water.

Brought it to a boil, turned it to simmer and covered.

Ten minutes later I took it off the stove, added 1/3 cup of sugar and mashed them up with a fork, stirred it up well, scooped it onto the plates next to the pork chops and oven fried potatoes and sprinkled it with cinnamon.

Ward looked at me, incredulous.

"That's it? THAT'S the magic of applesauce???"

Yep. The Simple Magic is the Best Magic.

***bonus points for noticing all 4 rodent references, which were completely random and serve no useful purpose whatsoever***

200th Post

So I was going to continue my pathetic bitching and moaning- even though the subject matter is not trivial, I looked at the post counter and saw that this is number 200. Using my 200th post to whine and rant seemed...less than worthy, so I'm taking a short break from my normally sunny disposition and forcing myself to be reflective and squishy instead of acerbic and pointy.

Don't worry. It won't last.

For Now...

Some think I'm cynical because when asked
"How are you doing?"
I always answer with, "I'm OK...for now".

My family is healthy and strong
And that hasn't always been the case.
While we know everything can change
In the blink of an eye
We're just fine...for now.

My home is every bit as magical as it was
A year ago when I watched it
Appear before my very eyes
One day, one log, one nail at a time.

This summer we had wildfires all around us
The acrid smoky air hung hazy for a few days
But our home remains safe...for now.

We have the same different struggles
Everyone does.
Too many bills at the end of the paycheck
Too little time for the work that needs done.
But we're getting by...for now.

There will always be someone better off than us
There will always be someone with heavier burdens.

Our burdens have lifted my eyes from the distractions
The diversions and the bullshit annoyances
And every day I gaze on this family, this home
In wonder and thankfulness.

Because these people- these incredible amazing humans
And this place- this magical perfect place
Are mine...for now.

And those two little words don't depress me
Or anger me.
Life is change.
Everything and everyone changes
With every sunrise and every sunset.

For Now is all we have.
Yesterday is gone, forever.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed to anyone, ever.

For Now I'll live and see and hear and breathe and love.
For Family.
For Home.

For Now.





(Standing at the barn gate looking down the road towards the house gate. Have you ever seen anywhere so perfect? Me neither...)

Full Moon Resolution

Lately I've been seeing a person I really don't like.

An impatient, petty, suspicious person who thinks badly of others without reason, she taints everyone around her with her toxic attitude.

She's in my mirror, the Bitch.

I hate when that happens.

Right or wrong, the atmosphere of the entire household- mine, yours, everyone's- depends on how Mom is acting and reacting to life around her.

That old joke "If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy" isn't just good for yuks and giggles- it's true.

Tonight we have "SuperMoon" coming up over the trees. Right now, this very minute, and it's glorious.

Ward and Alec have gathered firewood around the fire pit and we put out the camp chairs.

I've got the Smores Staging Area all set to go, and Joe's waiting for the word and he'll hike the 50 ft from his house to ours to enjoy the SuperMoon Celebration.

I have so much to be thankful for. My family is healthy, and smart, and funny, and so very dear. We're Home, for real and for true.

I promise this night, the night of the SuperMoon, that I'll take care every day- take CARE every day to think before I speak, and to be kind and patient.

To hug more and frown less.

To honestly praise more and snark less.

To assume no ill intent from those around me, no matter what they do or say that inadvertently "hits me the wrong way".

To cherish more- not just when I wake up and before dozing off to sleep at night as I give thanks for another 24 hours with my amazing family in this amazing place, but

all day long.

To SHOW it and SAY it and LIVE it. All day long.

Because 150% of the time, those around me are doing their best to do their best.

Because 150% of the time, those around me love me no matter how damn unlovable I'm being.

And they deserve better.

Migraines and Millionaires

I hate migraines.

In years past I lived with an almost constant low-grade headache including a few full-blown migraines a month and they are now few and far between since I had all my 'parts' either removed or shifted and have gotten, yanno- old.

My last one was back in April- after running myself literally ragged with Ward in the hospital and Alec to care for and a whole lot of worry and stress. Generally when I feel a headache coming on I take Advil Migraine (the only over the counter med that works for me) and it's gone in 30 minutes. Occasionally I'll need to lie down in the dark and if it's really bad a cold washcloth to my head is my best friend.

Back in April, I pushed beyond the tipping point and by the time I stopped to care for myself it was not because I finally wised up to the wisdom of being sensible and acknowledging my humanity, but because my body took matters into its own hands and just flat stopped working- with some intestinal trouble added in for extra emphasis. I spent several days in a dark room, unable to rise from the bed, Alec luckily old enough to fend for both himself and me.

So it didn't really surprise anyone that it happened again this week. I'd been pushing, bullheading, prodding our lives forward at warp speed to get this house project underway and yea verily finished in record time- before Ward's next appointments in Houston in December.

And of course that means trying to sort through piles and mountains of fifteen years of living in THIS house.

And planning to go to and actually going to Missouri for our Homestead Family Preunion.

And I think that all would've been OK if not for the horrors of

*the Missouri backroads*

Don't get me wrong- it's absolutely beautiful in the Ozarks. Outstandingly, breathtakingly dizzyingly beautiful.

Therein lies the rub.

I get motion sick.

I can't ride a merry go round, have to steel myself for the rising and falling of an elevator, and must ride in the front seat of a car.

Now, we live in East Texas- the lovely rolling hills forested babbling brooks area of this great state of Texas, so winding narrow roads are no strangers to me.

The Ozark 2 lane road is a whole different creature.

They not only weave back and forth left and right hither and yon but simultaneously nod up and down high and low pass me the barf bag please.

Complicating matters, we drove into Neil's after dark, so all I could see were the yellow lines like so many erratic sparkler trails on a hot July 4th night.

Anyhoo, by the time we got to Neil's I was fully green around the gills. I rallied quickly however, surrounded by good friends and good food and the weekend was spent thoroughly enjoying ourselves, and when we left I thought, "Hey- it's daytime now and I'll be driving instead of Ward driving while I try to read directions and it'll be FINE". (mental thumbs up to myself)

Well, it helped just a smidge that I drove, and by the time we got to Little Rock we were in that lovely string of storms that passed through a large portion of the nation last weekend so we were all a little white-knuckled by the time we got home at almost midnight Sunday night.

I then made the dubious decision to upload, edit, slideshow, caption and post all the photos from the weekend, putting me in bed about 3:30AM Monday morning.

Wonder of wonders (look of shock and amazement) I woke up with the Mother of All Migraines.

I spent all Monday and most of Tuesday in bed, drugged heavily, in the dark, attempting to press the cold washrag straight THROUGH my head.

But that's not what I'm writing about today.

While in bed, I had the TV on. I rarely pay attention to the TV, except for Rachel and Keith, I don't want to see TV because from the little bits that seep into my head while the boys are watching it seems...mostly stupid.

I had no idea.

Both Monday and Tuesday I was kept in rapt attention by one show. And not in a good way- not in an intellectually stimulating or interestingly historical way. More like a can't turn away from a car wreck even though you know you should sort of way.

The show is "The Real Housewives of Atlanta".

Really?

Are there really women whose soul purpose in life is to live in the right neighborhoods, wear the right clothes, know the right people and will their lives really end if they need to worry about budgets and caring for their own children and cooking their own meals?

I just can't fathom living such an appallingly wasteful and meaningless life.

Although I suspect that's not the purpose of the show.

I suspect the purpose of the show (at least in the eyes of the characters) is to show all the rest of us what we're missing, what we should aspire to, what we should be envious of.

I lay in my darkened room, in my century old drafty farmhouse, watching a 19" TV screen from Walmart, covered in quilts from Goodwill and listened to my son in the room next to me playing with his humane society puppy and I thankfully accepted a new cold washrag from my ever-attentive ever-loving husband.

Outside the wind blew quietly- gently through the open window with the box fan in it came the sounds of my world- dogs barking on the porch, chickens in the yard, birds singing, every so often the train going through downtown Brownsboro a quarter mile away.

And I felt the stresses of my life shrink and float away with the solid knowledge and thankfulness at how very very rich I am.