Time Spent Alone

Tuesday, Him and a couple of his friends went on a two day float trip. An overnighter. Two days. I had two days I could eat whatever and whenever I wanted. One morning I could sleep until noon if I wanted, and one night I could stay up until 4:00 AM if I wanted to. Two glorious days to myself.

If you have been married a short time, this may seem a little melodramatic. I, on the other hand, have been married for 32 years. So a good portion of you have been married a short time by my standards. A couple of days to myself sounds like such a good idea. I have always thought so in the past.

I suppose there is something about being married 32 years that changes your perspective. Or maybe, maybe, it's because I have gotten older that my feelings on marriage, life and being alone have changed... softened. A few hours after Him left, I found myself bored. That awful feeling when I can't focus on anything. I was so bored I couldn't stay with anything. Not my iPad, computer, a book or my knitting. Watching mindless TV made it worse. Mind you, Him usually sits downstairs in his man cave on his computer and I am upstairs in my office. We manage to cross paths a few times a day and have supper a few times a week. There was something about Mason, the big dog, moping around and not eating because his man wasn't home, knowing Him wasn't downstairs in his chair that made the aloneness more oppressive.

Looking for something to do, I decided I would try to get a new low carb bread recipe to rise into a larger loaf. It failed, so I did it again with slightly better results. Then I took a loaf over to the neighbor's house because 4 loaves of bread are too much for us to eat. I watched more mindless TV, did a few crosswords, played Candy Crush and did some knitting. Then, at 10:30 PM, I decided to shampoo my carpets. What? I didn't even have to do the dishes while Him was gone and I decide to shampoo carpets and mop the kitchen floor? I was trying to find things to keep myself busy, keep my mind off the empty chair downstairs. And I suppose I couldn't do carpets earlier in the day while I was fooling with bread.

There was a time I really liked having a day or three or seven to myself. Now... not so much. I like to know Him is downstairs. That Him is there if I need him. That nothing will happen to Him while he is floating the river, on the bank fishing or driving on the road with crazy people. It gives me comfort to know where he is and that he is safe.

Him is home now, sitting in his chair downstairs in his man cave, Mason, the dog lays down there at his man's feet and I am, after two days, comforted and at peace.

How has your perspective changed as you aged?

Low Carb Cuban Bread

I love homemade bread. I make homemade bread. But I don't make it often. I have a breadmaker but I don't care for the bread it makes. In the last few years it has been primarily used as a kneading machine. I let it knead, go through the first rise and take it out. I give it a bit of kneading to make sure it has been "punched" down completely, removing all the huge air bubbles, then shape it and put it a regular loaf pan. I let it rise and bake in the oven. It comes out with a much better crust and is way better for sandwiches.

When my mother passed, my dad gave me her Kitchen Aid Mixer. Make no mistake, I have wanted one of these for years. I did not think the cost of a one would be justified by the infrequency of my actually using it. I have used this machine once in about a year. Today I finally got brave enough to actually use it for bread. Which was the primary reason I wanted one.

I looked through my favorite bread recipe book, The Bread Machine Cookbook by Donna Rathmell German. I know, it's more than a little ironic, that I used a machine recipe to make regular bread when I don't like the bread that comes out of a machine... I pulled the Kitchen Aid away from the wall and started mixing. I was amazed, no really, amazed at how little time it took to get a well kneaded dough. I was in a hurry, so I let it rest a little and kneaded it a little more. I shaped it and put it in the warm oven to rise, took it out, preheated the oven and put it back in.

Now that in itself is nothing to crow about. Really, I know loads of women that make their own bread. I need to watch and limit my carbs these days so I am always on the quest for a flavorful, low carb bread. The store where we do all our shopping has stopped carrying the 9g carb per slice that I have come to count on at a reasonable price.

When I first found the low carb bread option, I asked friend of mine, a retired baker, how it is made. He told me they add more gluten which is 66g carb per cup to the dough. Whole wheat is 88g carbs per cup and white is 96g carbs per cup. So, substituting some of the high carb flour equals low carb bread. I also know that flax seed meal has 0-.75 g per cup, depending on who on the internet you believe. So I added that as well.

This bread tonight came up to 127 carbs for the whole loaf... 11 slices per loaf. That means it was 10.5g of carb per slice... The bread I was buying was 9g. per slice. Most whole grain bread, that isn't just brown white bread, has between 23g and 30g per slice. So my excitement over this bread is that at 21g. for two slices is huge!

Now, this may not seem like it should be such a big deal. But... when you have to keep your carbs below 120g a day, it's unbelievable how quickly you burn through them. Especially when I'm supposed to stay below 25-30g a meal. The ability to have some toast, garlic bread or a sandwich becomes an obsession that just won't go away. At least for me... If you tell me I can't have something it becomes a flashing neon sign at the front of my brain. And 10.5g a slice means I can have a sandwich, a real sandwich, not one that's between 2 lettuce leafs and you can't make a grilled cheese sandwich with lettuce. It is delightful that I have been able to figure out how to do this on my own...


What was the last thing you made that was exactly what you needed? Good or bad. :-)

A Wee One Is Coming

Dimples had been at our house since Wednesday and we were having a grand time. Curly and The Farmer were supposed to be here on Sunday for Mother's Day. As Dimples and I were about to get into the bath I heard someone come in the front door then holler, "Hello? Is anybody home?" I didn't immediately recognize her voice, I guess because I wasn't expecting her and she didn't say, "Mom? Are you here?". I closed Dimples in the bathroom to inspect her box of treasures in the drawer while I peeked covertly around the corner to see who was there. You know, just in case it was someone I didn't know walking in my door.

I let Dimples out of the bathroom to say hi to her mom and dad. Curly came took me into a bedroom and handed me an envelope. It was a blood test saying she was pregnant. What? This wasn't supposed to happen. The Farmer has Psoriatic Arthritis and takes Methotrexate (chemo in a pill form) every week. This treatment was supposed to destroy most of his swimmers and the odds of them getting pregnant were almost none. Though it was possible. Not only was it possible, it happened! They have been married less than a year.

What a Mother's Day present she gave me... What a Mother's Day present Curly got from The Farmer!

He was so excited. She felt like... she just got a kid out of diapers a few months ago and she is finally getting independent enough as to not require eyes on her all the time. Dimples will be 4 in July. And I think Curly did not really expect it would happen. And while not old, they are not young. She is almost 38 and he is 44. She is calculating how old they will be when "this" child is grown and gone... Especially given that he already disabled to a degree, and PA is progressive.

Move forward 3 days. She is excited about it. Dimples is excited about it. Dimples has a good "Friend" that works at her favorite store here in town who is very pregnant, so the concept of a baby "in there" is not unfamiliar. When given the news she said, "When will it come out? Tomorrow? I hope it is a girl. I really hope it is a girl. But if it is a boy, I will still play with him."

I am excited for them. Plans are being made, baby equipment that was scattered hither and yon but not permanently given away is starting to be gathered. Dimples clothes will be folded and put away rather than donated, at least until they find out what they are having. they are starting their family together. What a joyful thing. It will bring them even closer together. Dimples won't be an only child. It is difficult to be an only child, Curly was. It is difficult to be the parent of an only child.

This child is further proof that miracles happen. Even today. Dimples was a miracle baby too. Curly had been with Michigan for 14 years before Dimples came along... I was told I would never, ever be a grandma. Then I was told Dimples was it. No more babies. And yet, here we are. Another precious spirit from the Lord is coming to this world. To OUR family. What a delightful addition this baby will be. It will be loved. It will be cherished. And it will have a big sister that is going to love it to bits.



Have you recognized one of your miracles lately?

Mother's Day or Why This Is Not My Favorite Made Up Holiday to Sell Cards and 'Stuff'

I have never liked Mother's Day. I don't like Halloween, Father's Day, Christmas or Easter either... I guess I don't care for holidays in General. The 4th of July is okay because nobody expects anything more than a charcoaled hotdog or burger. Maybe a little potato salad to go with it. Everything else is just cause for a spending frenzy to get the most for everyone and unless they are little children, very seldom pleases the person you have bought something for. And then there is all the drama that is included in any family gathering of any size. I know this is a carry over from my childhood and the way holidays generally ended up.

But Mother's Day? That is a mess all on it's own. It makes me surly. Your family pretends they are going to let you have the day off. They are going to do everything. There were many years that I was so distressed by Mother's Day I would try to avoid going to church all together because of the sappy talks given and the plant that would be dead within two weeks of my planting it. Or more likely within two days when the elk ate it. At least they enjoyed it.

Today Him invited Curly and the Farmer up for supper. It was a great dinner. Conversation was nice, there was no drama... This after I cooked the entire dinner because Him got held up at Church.

Holidays in general seem to make everyone expect something. But Mother's Day in particular creates this anxious anticipation. We see advertisements on TV about how delightful it is to have the perfect husband and their perfect children all treating Mom to THAT ONE DAY A YEAR they will try to make her feel special, loved and oh so appreciated. What about the other 364 days, I ask? Even though I dislike the holiday, I keep waiting for it to be what "they" it is supposed to be. And generally beng disappointed every year. Not that Him doesn't acknowledge the day... this year he bought me a new computer... but it is more of an attitude than the gift...

I hate Mother's Day. I don't know many who wait with anticipation for the day to get here. There are some who love it. They are the one's with perfect families, and cheerful countenances at all times. I am not that way by nature. But... when the day comes and I see them making a half-hearted attempt at giving me a day, I graciously play along. It makes them feel better knowing they are giving that one special day a year.

I don't mean to be a wet blanket, really I don't. I am trying not to sound whiney, though I guess I am...I kept out all the serious complaining, that never solves anything. But honestly, I would rather take myself, alone, to the Hot Springs pretend it isn't Mother's day a all.

Mother's Day... do you love it or hate it?

I Couldn't Say It Better or Why I Needed To Read This Article

I read an article today that was awesome. I suggest everyone who isn't in my Facebook take a stroll over there and read it, the link is below. I shared it on my Facebook page because there are so many of us that feel like this. It's probably gone viral by now. Forgive the repetition.

Age, ethnicity or geographical location makes no difference. It doesn't matter if you have toddlers or teenagers, boys or girls, or if your long ago toddler has toddlers or teenagers of their own. There are days, weeks, months or perhaps years that you may have felt inadequate as a mother or grandmother. That same feeling may have been the one I had growing up. You know, the one where you felt you couldn't do enough, or do it well enough to please your mom or dad? Yeah, that one... While she or he was likely feeling like they couldn't do enough to please you, make you happy, or create a well balanced, productive adult. This is the picture of my life.

Curly is 37 years old. I still feel like I am not good enough as a mother. Now I have the added pleasure of feeling the same way about being a grandmother. And we might as well throw wife and daughter in there too... I'm striving to reach that higher level of understanding and acceptance to know and understand there can be benefit to not feeling I'm not doing enough, as long as I'm not beating myself up with it, it can make me strive to do better, to be better. Self-flagellation or a personal pity-party is never productive. Though I must say I have attended more pity parties than I care to mention.

For me, there seems to be something... Not so humble... about saying, "I'm the best mom in the world. I have done everything right." I don't think i know anyone in this life that can honestly make that claim. Him likes to have Dimples tell him he is the greatest Grandpa in the world. I guess he doesn't have the, 'I'm not good enough' syndrome. He is doing just fine and not afraid to admit it. :-) There must be somewhere in the middle that will feel right, be right. That place is know as nirvana. I'm still looking for it, thinking it is just around the corner. I know I'm closer to my desired goal so I keep peeking around corners for it.


Do you struggle with how you're doing or have you found your nirvana?


Dear Less-Than-Perfect Mom
http://http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lea-grover/dear-less-than-perfect-mom_b_3184445.html

We Are the Sum of Our Parents or Why My Feet Hurt All The Time

A friend once told me there two things a woman should never try to save money on when buying... A pair of shoes and a bra. "Buy the best", she said."Because if your shoes don't fit right or your bra is to tight or flopping around you are going to be miserable." I was a young woman when I got this advice. I thought about following it.. for about a minute. We were young. Him was back in school. We had a mortgage with interest that would choke a horse. We were in a word, broke.

My first pair of good shoes (read expensive) were purchased when Curly was headed off to college. I wore those shoes nearly every day for 10 years. I almost cried when I 'had' to put them in the trash because they were falling apart. Literally.

My first expensive bra was purchased after Him retired. I have a hard time spending good money on a bra when I seldom wear one anyway. I usually put one on if I am actually leaving the house, unless I'm wearing a coat and won't be taking it off, then I won't bother with the retched thing. And frankly, nobody should be looking at my boobs to see if they are properly placed in their perky position. Sorry. That bothers some people, but... I'm a child of the 60's and 70's, Gloria Steinem, burn your bra and all that. Though I hardly qualify as much of a feminist. I just can't stand that bra pinching me and the girls are going to end up in the same place sooner or later anyway. My mother was proof of that, if she was awake, she was wearing a bra, until her later years.

But I digress.

I.Loath.Shopping. For anything. Anywhere. The exception to this deep distaste for shopping is when shopping for wool to spin, yarn to knit and the accoutrement that goes with those two hobbies. I have always had a hard time finding shoes, (or clothes for that matter,) I like. It has been this way from the time I remember being able to make my own choices about what I was going to have on my body. I hate shopping so much that in Jr. High School, I could never make up my mind about what to buy. Because I would take forever to decide on anything and was constantly taking my younger sister's clothes my mom stopped taking me to buy school clothes...She took my sister shopping and had her pick out my clothes in addition to her own. It was a perfect arrangement as far as I was concerned.

We still had a problem. I liked my sister's shoes too. My mom couldn't let her buy my shoes since she needed my feet with her when she got them. So I would often take my sister's shoes, along with her clothes of course. There was a bigger issue at hand, or foot, as the case may be... She wore a size 7, I was 8-81/2. I didn't care, I wore them anyway

I'm sure that those few years while my feet were still growing to their size 9, 91/2, or 10 shoe, depending on the fit, I may have squished things too many times in my attempt to make my feet smaller by wearing her awesome shoes. It didn't stop my feet from growing bigger. I probably damaged something. They hurt all the time. My heels feel like someone has taken a 2x4 to them.

Then, unexpectedly, a few months ago while putting some lotion on my feet, bemoaning their state, I actually looked at those poor, old, achey feet. I saw my mother's feet at the end of my legs. What? I had never realized I had her feet. Bunions, callouses, toe nails and achy heels. I, we, had always attributed her sore heels to the fact that she fell of a ladder and had broken a heel. I don't think that was the case. Whatever is making mine hurt is what made her's hurt. After all, I have her feet. I have the same quest as she did. To find a pair of shoes that don't hurt my feet. I haven't yet. This is a major factor in not buying spendy shoes. I don't want to spend a hundred dollar bill on a pair of shoes that hurt my feet and will go to the back of my closet in a week or two.

I look at the end of my legs and can see a little of her left in me. It makes me smile. Until I stand up or put them on the floor, then smiling isn't the descriptor I would use for what my face looks like. While visiting my dad a few weeks ago, a curious thing happened. I was whining because my feet were hurting so bad. He said, "Wait there, I have something for you." He then proceeds to tell me that his feet were hurting him really bad. He talked to his doc about it and the doc gave him some silicone heel cup inserts and a simple stretching exercise to do in his easy chair. He gave me the inserts. I did the the little exercises and put the heel cups in my slippers. It was magic! It was a miracle! It was the first time in over 20 years my feet did not hurt to put on the floor or walk on.

While thinking about how awesome my feet felt that first night, I realized I didn't just have my mother's feet, they certainly look like hers. But I have my dad's feet as well. They contributed equally to my poor feet. My dad was able to give me a solution to the major part of my pain... My mother gave me a physical, visual reminder of her.

This isn't, of course, everything my parents gave me. I have many physical traits that would tell you I belonged to them if we were all in a room together. I didn't think I looked like my mom much, until she passed and I was looking at photos. The same with my dad... I can see him in me too... there are parts of my body that are more visibly attributable to one parent or the other. But my feet? Both of my parents are squarely in my feet. I can thank them both for something about my poor, old, feet. And have a better appreciation for all that their feet have gone through.


What did your body get from your parents?

Television or Why it is just noise

May 2011. That was when Curly and Dimples finished with living in Michigan and were finished with a very abusive and dangerous situation.

I was delightful for him and me to have them out of that situation and here safe with us. The side benefit was that we got to have Dimples here with us when she was a only few months shy of 2 to a few months shy of 4. I made trips out there to see them about every two months after Dimples was born. Now she was here with us and we could watch as this lovely little person who had no knowledge of how the world works, discovere how the world works in ways adults have forgotten.

I also was introduced to Toddler TV. When Curly was a little one, we had Sesame Street. Now there are not only dozens of different toddler programs but stations that run toddler TV all day and night. Dimples became the queen of the television. All the adults in the house lost control of the television completely. All televisions in the house could not play anything except Toddler TV programs. She would not allow it. If she heard something on another television in the house, she would migrate toward it and let you know she wanted to watch “my shows”. It was easier to change the channel than argue.

Now I know, I can hear you, yes you. Telling me that children shouldn’t watch television all day. I agree. But, she had just spent 6 months in a friend of Curley’s spare bedroom. There were reasons they spent most of their time in that bedroom, mostly because they were hiding. There was hardly room for an 18 month old to play, but there was Nick Jr. on all day. It made the situation easier. You don’t break that habit just because she moved to my house. At my house, I am always in the room with her when she is watching TV and we are interacting with whatever is on the television. She tells me things that are funny to her, I ask her questions about what is happening. I am always listening to what is on the television, thus I am prepared to ask or answer questions and she knows I am really there with her.

I know all the shows, songs and most of the characters on Disney Jr.. I know she has learned a lot from these TV programs. Me? I feel a little dumber for all the hours that toddler TV has been pounded into my brain. A while back I had Jake and the Neverland Pirates theme song stuck in my head for two days. I have even made observations that one should never consider. Like Mickey Mouse being the worst example of a boyfriend ever. He and Minnie have been “a couple” for over 80 years. Donald and Daisy are just a few years behind Mickey and Minnie. I also learned that Goofy was married. He has a son. But in true Disney fashion, Mrs. Goofy was killed off somewhere, somehow. I love the Fairy’s movies and series. Dimples loves Sophia the first. She is a little Princess that is just a bit older than Dimples. What’s not to love.

She is not interested in Sesame Street. At.All. After a couple of years, she is finally willing to let the adults watch television. It depends on her mood and the time of day. She will let Him watch what he wants, when he wants to watch it. She has started to ‘play’ rather than stand in front of the television all day. She will sit down to coloring or a reading book, this is a recent development.

So while I feel dumber for listening to all that Toddler TV, particularly since they repeat the same episodes ad nauseam , she has gained some skills she may not have gotten any other way. There are worse habits she could have developed during 6 months of hiding… Now Curly has remarried and we have Dimples a few days every couple of weeks. I miss Mickey and the Chuggington Trains. I miss Dimples. She is happier now that her mother is settling back into her life and rediscovering who she is and who she is not. She is happy she has a daddy now. She had some trouble grasping the concept that she does not live here and her mommy isn’t coming back to her bedroom here. She has finally got it where her house is and that she visits Nana's house.

As annoying as Toddler TV is… I am grateful there is good programing for a little girl that had a very difficult beginning in life. She can see that life is good, bright and that problem solving is not that difficult if you put your mind to it… Oh...wait, grown-ups should be living by those principles as well..


Has Toddler TV been a part of you life? If so what was your favorite kids show?

Blogger Meme!

I understand this meme is for people who have less than 200 followers. I certainly fall into this category with my faithful 1 follower... It makes me wonder if I am supposed to ask questions since she has already done this. :-)
The questions offered up by Lisa for consideration...

1. Why do you blog?
Because so many of my friends are blogging. I know I'm exhibiting sheep behavior, and no, I wouldn't follow them off a cliff. I'm usually a goat.

2. What is your advice to someone overcoming adversity?
And it came to pass. It may take a while to pass, it may hurt like hell while you're going through it, but it will pass eventually.

3. If a movie was made of your life, who would play you?
Kathy Bates. She doesn't much care what anyone thinks of her. She is happy being who she is and not one bit ashamed of who she is.

4. If you could have high tea with anyone living or dead, what kind of tea would you drink? (Caught you off guard with that one, didn't I?? ;)
Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice, with cream and sugar. Very Chai like.

5. In one word, describe your feelings at this instant.
Unprepared

6. If you and I found ourselves in jail, what would we be "in" for?
Being smart mouthed trying to be funny to the wrong person, namely that officer.

7. What is your favorite kind of donut?
Cruller

8. If you could be any kind of athletic ball, what kind would you be? Why?
A red, flat one, people would leave that one where it lay... I don't like big people sitting on me.

9. What's your favorite form of exercise?
Getting out of the chair to get my cruller.

10. I (apparently) want a parrot named Pooter as a pet, what kind of pet do you have/want?
A Blue Standard Poodle named Mason Dixon. He is coal black now, but beginning to turn to blue which looks grey until they are in the sun. How weird is that?


And now my questions for you...

1. Which do you prefer, bath or shower?
2. If have the choice, do you choose dark or milk chocolate with or without nuts?
3. When was the last time you wrote a letter with pen and paper, put a stamp on it and actually mailed it?
4. Do you keep a paper or an electronic journal?
5. What is your greatest talent? Who do you share it with?
6. Are you afraid to talk in front of a group of people, large or small?
7. Pepsi or Coke?
8. What was the last book you read? Was it in paper or electronic form?
9 Bare feet or shoes?
10. What is your favorite appliance sitting on your countertop or cupboard?

Why I'm A Bad Blogger

I'm a bad blogger. I understand that a good blogger writes every day or at least every few days. More frequently than when a challenge comes along I am made aware of because of a post the Lovely Lisa makes. I should read blogs more often too... most of the blogs I follow show up in a feed app I use... I use it now and then. Then there is the fact that I only have one person that reads my blog regularly, so... well, you know.

I find it easier to opine about something when I have been given a topic or assignment. This applies to blogging as well as giving talks or preparing lessons. You have to tell me what you want. This principle works well with supper too... Just tell me what you want and I will do my best to make it for you. If you tell me you don't care what you have for supper, you may get a bowl of cereal, because honestly, I don't care what you have for supper either.

I write differently for my blog than I do in my journal. I find that a bit odd. I have been on Live Journal for years and for a long period of time made at least one entry a day. I had about 60 people that I followed, reading all the detritus of these people's lives. Boring details that one is only invested in if there is a relationship established. Even if it is only an online relationship. I have friends from online that I have known and interacted with for over 20 years. I consider them friends. Though apparently not enough to post on Facebook that I have a blog... Some of them are genuine writers with multiple blogs and novels and facebook... I guess I am afraid of someone telling me my life isn't that exciting.

I realized the other day as I was restoring 8 years of journal entries to my journaling program that I could post my blog posts from there. Thus satisfying my need to journal and bore everyone with it. My journal is generally historical. There isn't much deep reflection, or profound introspection that goes on there. I think I am afraid that someone will sneak into them and wonder, "What was she thinking." I have told my family to tuck all those journals right in around my feet when I'm making my final trip in a pine box.

Online journaling is much more anonymous. Even if you know the people reading. When they say, "What was she thinking?", they aren't in your face when they say it. When they quit reading, you don't know it.

While restoring my journal, I had an epiphany... Honestly, why does it matter. I write my journal the way I want. It is me. My blog posts are me. I'm not going to try to be funnier, or wiser or more political, practical or paranoid than I already am... My 'to the core' honesty about how I feel has gotten me in hot water more than once. But frankly, if you can't stand the heat, stay out of my pot...

So I guess this means I will try to find the funny, spiritual, mundane and profound things that make up who I am and try not to offend anyone in the process. I will certainly try to read more and write frequently. And I will wait until the challenges come along to make this easier.


Do you do better with assignments and goals to meet or are you better off the cuff?

Zippity Do Dah or I Am Not A Morning Person

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
My oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A

Mister bluebird on my shoulder
It's the truth
It's actual
Everything is satisfactual

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Wonderful feeling
Wonderful day...

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah. We all know this little ditty... Great song. But not at 6:30 in the morning.

My sleep patterns are erratic. My mother told me from the day I arrived in the world I did not want to sleep at night. I still have some difficulty with that nighttime sleeping business. My ideal sleep schedule would be go to sleep at 3-4 AM and get up about 10:30. AM. The rest of the world doesn't function within that schedule all that much. When I lived in Indonesia, there is a 13 hour time difference, 10 AM in Colorado is 11 PM in Indonesia. I slept pretty well there. My sleep rhythm is much more suited that time zone.

Him, on the other hand, after 13 years of retirement, still wakes between 5 and 6 AM no matter where in the world he is. He sleeps until 7 every couple of months.

I wake up sleepy and groggy. He gets up, literally, singing or whistling Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah. It hurts my head for someone to be so chipper and chatty so early. Him learned a long time ago to take his happy to work, now to his man cave, and not to share it with me. Dimples is an early riser. She has the best part of her day from 7-12 every day. She is so cute and chatty when she comes into my bed for a cuddle for 10-15 minutes before we start the day. The best part of the day is when she comes running from her room to my bed and we wake up together.

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah may not be echoing through the house out loud very often these days but the spirit of it is still ringing thorough the house house by the very attitude that abides here.

Are you a morning person a groggy waker?

Y2K or Other Reasons to Prepare

Y2K... You remember the day the world was supposed to go crashing into the sun? We as a world, tried to prepare for the imminent disaster that was going to happen. The stock market was going to crash. All financial services were going to come to a halt. And all utilities would be out of service for who knows how long... That Y2K.

Him and I were living in Indonesia at the time. He was in charge of the entire IT department for his and the national Telecommunications company for all of West Java. He and his team would be responsible for getting everything back up before we crashed into the sun. It was a big deal. And because we were on the other side of the date line and one of the first places that would be effected by Y2K it was a bigger deal. The baby bell in Colorado would be watching with interest.

They all decided if the earth was in fact going to crash into the sun, they should have a party and we should all be together to observe the carnage. There was food, party hats and horns. It was after all, New Years Eve. We gathered at the company offices, 8 stories above all the revelry on the streets below. As the new year ticked into existence, we all huddled around a computer to see if it quit working, blew up or kept running.

As y'all know. It was a bust. The world didn't implode, the markets were fine, everyone still had electricity and automobiles were still running.

One result of the Y2K scare was people were quickly trying to get foodstuffs and water stored in case there was mayhem. They were frightened to think their way of life was going to get disrupted somehow. They did not know how to prepare or know what they needed to do.

The LDS Church has long been a proponent of being prepared. We are advised to have a years worth of specific foodstuffs. We are advised to have as much water as we can. We are supposed to have fuel, a means of heating our house in the event of loss of power and have some cash on hand. I suppose there are things on this list that would be harder than others for some people to gather. We are not hoarders. This is not end of the world preparations. We are to have this in the event of life. A lost job, a winter storm, financial changes and the like would be much easier with a little foresight and preparation. I know a family that lived out of food storage for the two years it took him to find another job. Not having to buy food for a family of five, relieved a great burden for this family. Being in Indonesia for Y2K, with my food storage in Colorado and having no way to store food where I lived, was a more than a little disconcerting.

We are supposed to be prepared to meet our Savior and Heavenly Father. This is a slightly more difficult proposition then getting some food together. It should be a higher priority. But just like storing the essentials in food storage, preparing to return to our Father requires some planning, more than gathering food together in the basement.

Firs, we need to know what we want to do. We need to know what our goal is. We need to prepare by doing the things we have been commanded to do, even when it is hard. Not getting back where we want to be will be a bigger disaster than if Y2K had actually happened the way they predicted. Like food storage, we need to make up our minds to prepare, then be about the business of taking the steps to get it done. Preparation makes everything easier and less stressful. It also makes achieving that goal much more likely to actually happen.


Are you prepared for the challenges the business of living throws at you?

X- Challanged or Why I Dont Have A Decent X Post

I never know what to do with an X. Wen playing Words With Friends drawing an Xmakes me shudder a little bit.

I can usually find somewhere to put an X in the middle of a word, but most of the other X words I know are proper nouns.

So this is my tribute to the mighty X.

Weather or Why Mother is So Fickle

Mother Nature is so very difficult. We cannot reason with her. We cannot talk to her. Sme of us have tried pleading, even begging her to stop snowing on us...

It was snowing when I left home for Minneapolis to visit my dad. I was happy I was leaving the snow to come where it was actually Spring. Not so. Two days after I arrived we had 8" of snow. Yay. But, the got at least 14" of snow back home. So there is that.

We are supposed to get 5" of snow here tonight. erk.

I fear we will only have two weeks of summer beginning July 23rd. Mother Nature does not care. She will do what she will do.

I will not whine about the snow over much. We need the moisture. Snow or rain is critical in my little town. It helps us so we won't be sucking smoke all summer. Regardless of the intellectual understanding of why we need the moisture, I'm ready for the rains to come and be done with the snow.


Is it Spring where you are?

Virtue or What I Strive For Everyday

There are vary virtues. Mr. Webster defines it as:

1. the quality of doing what is right and avoiding what is wrong
2. any admirable quality or attribute
3. morality with respect to sexual relations
4. a particular moral excellence

The following is a list of the virtues I am striving to achieve in my life.


Temperance is a virtue. The ability to control the need for instant gratification.
Good temper is a virtue. The ability to not only not get angry, but to be happy while you live this life.
Ambition - self-control regarding one's goals
Contentment - self-control regarding one's possessions and the possessions of others; acknowledgement and
Courage - being able to do what is right no matter the situation.
Patience - being patient is not like there having a bucket to hold your patience in. You don't empty it and run out of patience. We have all the patience in the world, if we choose to exercise it.
Persistence - this is the stick to it virtue. Finish what you start and start what you will finish.
Fair-mindedness - be fair. be happy when someone else succeeds Give yourself the same fair mindedness, whether you win or lose.
Tolerance - the ability to accept that others make choices or live their lives differently. Accept it and move on
Honesty - be honest in all that you do. I don't think this applies telling your friend that dress makes her butt look big and that you hate it. Of course this depends on the friend.
Respect - everyone deserves respect. There should be no room in our hearts to be mean and hateful to anyone you come in contact with.
Self respect - respect for ourselves. To stay true to our convictions and forgiving ourselves when we forget this virtue..
Kindness- there is no reason we can't be kind to everyone we meet. It doesn't mean we have to sit and break bread with the dirty, scary homeless guy, but we don't have to treat him with disgust and disregard when we see him. Life is already hard enough.
Kindness - play nice. We will be better for it.
Generosity - help those who have less. Even if you have little ourselves. Give what you can when you can.
Forgiveness - the ability to get over it. Let it go. In the grand scheme of things there is little that will matter in five months let alone five years.
Compassion - compassion and empathy go hand in hand. The ability to see the struggles and pain someone is going through. And to feel their sorrow.

These are not intended to be commentary on anyone except myself. This is not a comprehensive list by any means. These are some virtues I want. I want to be less judgmental. I want to learn forgiveness better. More patience is critical with a three year old around. I have advanced from a bucket to a Rubbermaid tub to hold my patience in.

Virtues are the things we strive for. Things that will make us kinder, gentler and better people. The more virtues we are able to incorporate into our daily lives while not have to be conscious of trying to exercise a virtue, but have it be a natural action or reaction, the happier we will be and the happier those around us can be.

I want to be virtuous. I want people to want to be around me. I want people to know my word is gold. I have a long way to go but...I've come a long way.

What virtues are you striving for?

Urgency or Why I Try To Relax

There is a sense of urgency in our society. The need to get somewhere quickly. Needing to have supper by a certain time so everyone can head off in different directions to do things that are urgent. One only has to watch drivers during rush hour in any city in America to see people almost frantic with their urgent need to be somewhere and traffic is messing up their entire day. Rushing kids to school, running through an airport, scrambling to get the lesson finished or changing how you eat to be healthier or thinner or because that is how your friend cooks. There is even a sense of urgency about the way we play. There are some that want to do it all. Just look at the number of extreme sports and the increasing number of participants in them.

I often wonder if they were this frantic 100 years ago.

Of course, there are things in life that require urgency. Hurt people need tending. Crops need to be harvested before rain moves in. Babies will not wait to be born. These, and other events must be treated with urgency. But...most of the urgency in our lives could be avoided with more planning. Or in my case, paying better attention to what I'm doing in the first place.

I have almost reached a point in my life where I can honestly say I don't get excited unless someone is bleeding not breathing or floating down the river when they shouldn't be. There just isn't that much that gets me too excited anymore. I suppose that comes with age. I just can't worry about the little things anymore. It's too exhausting.

When I travel, I have my bag packed a week before my travel day. It helps me remember everything, saving me from purchasing needed items with travel money. I have all the clothes I want in the suitcase. This eliminates the need to do laundry two days before I leave so all my clothes can dry on racks since I don't use the dryer for my clothes. I don't have to pack dirty or wet clothes. My cosmetic bag or carry on bag sits on my bathroom counter filled with everything I will need and is available for me to put in last minute items... I realize this habit makes many think I am a little OCD about my packing habits. Not so. It prevents the urgency and anxiety of packing at the last moment.

Proper planning removes the urgency of what to cook for supper. I'm very lucky here because Him cooks as much or more than I do and will eat anything as long as it fills the hole. He will eat popcorn for supper, so there is no urgency for me in that regard.

We should slow down. Enjoy the quiet times of life. Planning will certainly help, but not feeling the need to do it all, for everyone, the instant they want it will help considerably. Being in a constant state of urgency is stressful both physically and emotionally. I tried to give it up some years ago. Some days I even succeed.


Is your life full of urgency?

Television or Why I Don't Watch Much

We have a number of televisions in our home. Him watches a few times a week. He watches the news some, mostly to get financial information, and to make sure there isn't eminent danger from a zombie attack, vampires taking over the world or any mosquitos damaged in a nuclear accident swarming our way. Other than that he learns on the Syfy channel how to defend against those events and more. He insists the programs are instructional and crucial to our survival.

I on the other hand prefer cheesy detective programs, occasionally NCIS, which are not so cheesy detective shows. I like The Voice, a lot. I manage to catch to maybe three shows a season. I like Project Runway. Again a show or two each season. If I turn the television on I usually watch The Mentalist, Castle or Bones all day. If I watch at night, I'm going to be up late because I will get involved in a movie. I can't walk away from a movie, no matter how dumb it is or if I have already seen it. Unless I'm spinning or knitting I don't turn it on.

Television is mindless entertainment. Sometimes we need that. Something that does not require us to think. Something that takes us to another place that is far away from the problems in our life. I would rather read a book.

Television is so mesmerizing that your metabolism drops to a level 14% lower than when you're asleep. It's no wonder people who watch hours every day are called couch potatoes. Our bodies slow to that of a potato. We almost go to a full stop. It's also why I can eat a whole bag of kettle chips. I'm hypnotized and don't know what's going on.

I recently had a procedure that required me to be on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours followed by twelve hours of fasting. I made the mistake of watching television to entertain my brain and take my mind off the 437th cup of broth I was having that day. I never realized how many commercials there are that deal with food or products used to prepare food. They are of course designed to make you go to the kitchen during a commercial and get a bag of kettle chips.

I decided a long time ago that televising stunts my creative process. Not to mention stunting my ability to get motivated to clean my house. We didn't have a television for many years when curly was growing up just so she wouldn't watch every spare moment.

It's better for me not to turn it on. I can't abide the constant noise. My dad has the television on 24 hours a day. He sleeps with it on. He used to sleep with the radio was on back in the day when television were a piece of furniture nearly as big as the sofa. When I visit here it Is deafening even though he keeps the volume fairly low. He just needs the background noise, he's not even paying attention to it while he works crossword puzzles or is napping. I cannot concentrate with all the noise.

There are good things on the television. Toddler tv is amazing and very educational. Dimples has learned much from watching Kipper, Super Why and Sid the Science Kid. And I know that Him will be able to protect us when the zombies make their move.

What do you watch to educate you brain.

Seniors, Or My Love Affair With The Elderly

But old people just grow lonesome,
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
- Joan Baez, Hello In There


Elderly, Seniors, Senior Citizen, Old Lady, Old Man, Old Biddy, Geezer, Codger. There are many names for the Seniors in our society. I love them, even when they are kind of crotchety. They've lived a long time, sometimes they had very hard lives. A crotchety old person is easier to take than a crotchety young person.

I haven't always had this tenderness for the Elderly. There was a time in my youth when the elderly were just creepy old people who smelled funny.

Then my grandparents turned in to little old people. Then they went into a nursing home with rooms full of little old people who were all alone. It touched me, these people whose families treated them like creepy old people to be forgotten because they were out of sight. My love affair with seniors started then.

Then my mother was becoming a little old woman. She was frail. She refused to use her walker or be in a wheelchair, but conceded to riding in the electric cart at the store. She stopped driving years ago because her reflexes were to slow and her eyesight wasn't so good. Before she passed last year I spent as much time as I could with her, her arm in mine, as we walked from the car to the store where she would get on her "scooter" and make her way through the store.

I will offer to help a little old woman or man into the store or out of the store and always offer to push their cart for them. I hoped someone would do it for my mom, even though my dad was always with her. I am forever offering to help seniors get something off the shelf, especially if it is something heavy, like a bag of sugar. Five pounds is pretty heavy for some of those frail people

My dad is going to be 82 this year. He qualifies as a senior citizen because of his age alone. You would have guessed him to be at least 10 years younger a year ago. He has aged considerably after losing his companion of 61 years. A year ago he had a smattering of grey in his full head of black hair. Now he has a smattering of black in his grey hair. I live in Montana, he lives in Minnesota so I only get to see him a few times a year. The transformation from strong older man to an elderly man has been swift and dramatic...I hope someone will offer to help him when he reaches that stage of his life.

There is a young couple living across the street form my dad. The young man lost his father two days after my mother passed. This sweet couple have taken it upon themselves to keep an eye on him. They check on my dad at least every other day. I am so grateful that they have tender feelings for the elderly of the world too.

I believe most people who are uncomfortable with the senior citizens of the world, are afraid of them. Afraid of what they represent. They reveal our future, our own mortality.

I love to talk with seniors. To listen to their stories. The ones they tell over and over again. Those are the important memories they have from a lifetime of living. There is so much wisdom to be gained from a person who has lived so long. Some of these people knew iceboxes, wood cookstoves and wagons then watched as the world developed jet planes, computers and cell phones. How can you not drink up the stories from those days, a life we have never experienced. We should learn from the minds that hold all that experience and wisdom. Those whose memories may be fading a little every day. The memories, stories and wisdom will be lost forever. They know what is happening, they may fear it too.

Be kind to these little, frail people that are such a blessing to our society. You may be the only person that spoke to them that day...


Do you say hello to the Seniors of society?

"R"eading or Why Reading is My First Love

I love to read. I know there are people in the world that never read. I never, ever saw anyone I associated with in Indonesia read anything other than a newspaper. It just isn't in their budget I suppose, when they are trying to get their rice and weeds for the day.

I remember the book that captured my attention and kept me that way for the rest of my life. I thought it was a grown up book when I was in the 6th grade. Mrs. Mike, by Benedict Freedman and Nancy Freedman. I don't actually remember much about it other than she lived in the Great White North and had a bunch of trying events she had to overcome. The second book I read that was in fact an adult book was, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. A gothic suspense novel with murder, ghosts and fog. I loved it. That book is likely the reason I like trashy detective novels.

I read memoirs. I immerse my self in them, voyeuristically soaking in the details of someone's life. Real life. Real drama. Real pain. Books that make me want to shout to the world that we need to help the child soldiers, victims of genital mutilation, parents that that abused, neglected, and left broken children who became broken adults. I read them until I have to stop because it hurts me too much to read anymore.

I read trashy suspense and detective novels. I read trashy spy novels. I do not read trashy romance novels (it's okay if you read them!). Those just make me realize that I do not have Fabio for a husband and will never be swept off to a pirate ship on a white horse. I used to read High Fantasy. Avidly. I will go back to it someday, but after a few years of them, I realized that all of them were good vs. evil, but they became too predictable and they had too many pages dedicated to battles between the orcs and trolls, you can fill in the blank with your own good vs. evil fantasy characters. I occasionally read a book that has the latest breakthrough advice to help me be a better person. The advice is usually not true, or does not apply to my situation. I rarely read something the Doctor du jour wrote about a health issue I have. And less frequently a book about how to speak and listen to him better. I will not read a book when I have seen the movie, for at least 5 years. And the reverse is true, I don't go to the movie if I have read the book

I pick my books by the size of them, how fat they are on the shelf. I know most people read the back jacket, look at the cover and make a decision. It only makes sense to me that if I am going to fork over $8 to $15 for a book, it might as well be a 900 page book as opposed to a 234 page book. The reality of it is, I have not purchase a paper book for myself in quite a few years. I am all about ebooks. First on my Kindle, then my iTouch and finally my iPad. I get 99% of my books free and the books I pay for are usually favorite books that are paper books in my library. I want these in my ebook library because I read them over and over. Mostly I buy a few that are for Dimples, though a good percent of hers are free books I am always on the look out for. We read a lot on the Kindle app. I just bought her a paper book, a collection of Disney Princess stories. She is all about Princess' you know.

I read my scriptures. I try to read them every day. I firmly believing that I speak to God through prayer and he speaks to me through the scriptures. If I read enough, I can learn how to better speak and listen to my husband. How to love my daughter better. How to follow those in the church that are doing their best as human beings to teach me how to be a better and more obedient daughter of my Heavenly Father. That is what I am striving for. I would probably be better off not read trashy detective novels, but that is my mindless entertainment when I finally get a little quiet in my life and I am not knitting. Though with the auto scroll feature on my iPad, I can read at the same time I am doing some mindless knitting, like a hat. How awesome is that. The two things I love most.

I love to read. I love that I can gain knowledge from reading. I love that I can be entertained by reading. I love reading with Dimples before bed and watching her learning to and loving to read. It is a great thing we have been blessed with in our time. All the books you could possibly want, all the adventures you could want to take at your fingertips.

"Q"uiet or Why I Prefer Silence.

Quiet. It is precious to me. I have always preferred quiet to noise. The noise of a radio. The noise of the TV. The noise of a washer, dryer, dishwasher, engine, barking dog... it does not really matter what the noise is, I can only ignore it for so long and then I want it to stop. Not that I want to stop hearing all together, I just don't want to hear noise.

For instance. I do not mind the singing of birds, particularly the beautiful mountain bluebirds we have here. I Do.Not want to hear them at 5:15 AM. Ever. Then they become noise. My house in Colorado sat on 4 acres surrounded by 60 acres that was undeveloped and the road ended at a locked gate half a mile from us. I heard a car go down the road every few days and that was likely a neighbor going home and I happened to be standing at the kitchen sink for some reason. My last house was situated so that my bedroom window was at patio level to a house that had 4 freshman college boys in it who thought kegger parties 4 nights a week was perfectly acceptable. No. Not ever. My current house has neighbors on both sides and a state highway 300 yards from my bedroom window. It is rarely quiet here. Except in my office which is on the opposite side of the house than the highway, and after about 7:30 PM.

Curly used to come home from school and be shocked I was sitting in a house full of silence. She on the other hand always has music playing, unless someone has the TV on. Most of her Facebook posts are about what she is listening to, going to listen to or the genre she is honed in on for the day. Music is one of the things that define who she is. While I have many devices to store and play music on, and I have a tremendous amount of mp3 files in iTunes. I could really care less. I listen to my music a time or two a month. Usually it is more of a soundscape that I have going.

I will say, I didn't realize how quiet my house was until an 18 month old Dimples came to live in it. Then my quiet time was after 8 when she finally cried/screamed herself to sleep. And she talked all the time. She still talks non-stop, but the screaming at bedtime has stopped. The screaming during the day has not.

I like quiet. It is one of the only reasons I like to camping... the quiet. It is one of the reasons I dislike cities. There is just too much noise. You can hear the cars rumbling through your car window. You can't get away from the sirens, the noisy traffic, and all those people chittering all the time. You couldn't hear a bird unless it got itself locked up with you in your hotel room.

I like quiet. I like to be able to think. To pay attention to whatever has my attention at the time. I like to hear the wind blowing through the tall grass, to hear the geese honking as they go over the house to the river. It gives me a better chance to hear the voices in my head. I like the quiet.


Do you enjoy the quiet or the busy rush of the world?

Peculiar or Why Normal Isn't That Normal

I am a Peculiar person. Not in the weird or creepy kinda peculiar person... Just your normal peculiar person.

I come from a long line of peculiar people. My dad is a peculiar person. The "Mormons" as a whole are considered a peculiar people. I'm a Mormon, so that is double qualification for the peculiar status.

My definition of peculiar likely isn't the same as Mr. Webster's definition. My idea of peculiar is someone or a group of someone's who are different. The may look different, think differently, or act differently. They are different from their friends, neighbors or society as a whole. They generally know they are peculiar and are okay with it... after they get old enough to get over the stigma of not being exactly the same as everyone else and quit trying to fit in by being like the rest of the busy bees at school.

I like peculiar people, it makes them interesting. Peculiar people also like eclectic things. Books, music, clothing and possibly the color of their hair. I like peculiar things. My house is full of peculiar things acquired from many different countries. I do not like peculiar food though. Ever.

I like being peculiar. I would never be classified as normal... Besides, normal is a setting on a washing machine. Who wants to aspire to that?


Are you a peculiar person?

"O"rder or Why I Like Things Just So

There is an Order to all things.

There are some who are not concerned with order At.All. I personally know people that are just that way. They live in a constant state of chaos and putting out fires because of the chaos all around them. I'm not sure they could really function if they had order in their lives. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, some people thrive in the chaos.

I need order. Even when I have what I think is order, I lose stuff. I can not move from my chair, doing one of my many hobbies and lose something. Two days ago while I was knitting, I put point protectors on my needles and put the knitting it in my knitting bag. I did some things on my iPad, not moving from the chair, took out my knitting and a point protector was missing. It was not in the bag, it was not on the floor, it was not in the chair beside the cushion, it was not on the end table or on the treadle machine next to my chair. It was GONE. I looked two or three times in the same places hoping it would just show up. It didn't. I looked again a couple of hours later because I can't stand it when that happens. I can't let it go easily. The next day I lost a pair of scissors. I looked in the cushion and there was the point protector... and the scissors.

If I had all the time I have spent looking for something I would have about 8 years of my life back. More often than not I am searching for something I put somewhere so I wouldn't lose it and I would remember exactly where I put it. Today I spent two hours looking for one of the two eye masks I use when I travel by train. I always put them in my night stand drawer. They are not to be found. I give up, I will just use the hood on my sweat shirt to cover my eyes.

Order helps keep my stuff reined in. I generally can tell him exactly where the tape is in the linen closet, where his keys are, or where the decongestant is in the closet, without having to get up and show him. It depends, of course,on how many people have been rooting in the closet and not putting it back where they got it from. It's my stuff I lose. Especially in my chair when I haven't moved.

There is an order to life. Spring follows Winter, Summer follows Spring, Autumn follows Summer and then we are back to Winter. We know these seasons will happen. Some seasons may be a little shorter or longer than we prefer, but it happens. In their Order. We know the sun will rise, day follows night. It may be cloudy or gloomy, but we know the sun is up there somewhere.

There is an Order to life. We are born, we can't wait to be grown-up, we get grown-up and realize how hard it is to take care of all the details of life. We also realize our parents weren't as bad or dumb as we thought. The we are climbing the hill, headed for the crest and wish we hadn't spent so much time worrying about the future and spent more time living in the present. When we start heading down the other side of that hill, we start to realize how short life is. We stop thinking about the past so much, though it takes up an incredible amount of our conversations, and we start thinking about the future. Then we start planning for the time when we will complete the "circle of life" and finish our race.

Everything has a purpose and a reason in this life we have been given. That Order is specifically designed to get us back where we belong on the other side. There is Order on the other side. Order keeps things simple. I keep inordinate amounts of lists. Lists help keep Order in my life. Other people can keep all the details of life in their heads. That doesn't work for me anymore. Order is important to me. The less Order and the more chaos around me, the harder it is for me to balance all the details of my life. There is Order. We need to find our place in it and embrace it when able. Even if one is surrounded by chaos, there is Order to life that we are not in control of. There is Order.


Do you have order or do you have chaos?

"N"ap or Why I Sleep Better During The Day

I like naps. No... I love to take naps. Sometimes it is for an hour, sometimes 4 hours. It all depends on how I slept the night before. Some people can't take naps because it messes up their nighttime sleep patterns. I generally sleep better if I have had a nap. I don't cruise to the point of trying stay up until bedtime, then get too tired and have that huge cortisol dump, commonly known as a second wind.

It can take me upwards of an hour of laying in the bed waiting for Mr. Sandman to quit hanging around somewhere else and get to my house at night. He has been known to skip my house all together. Him says he's going to lay down for a minute and if he's not asleep in two minutes he's up getting a Benadryl. Then he falls asleep 2 minutes after he has taken his sleep aid. That's so unfair.

It makes me a little jealous. And the fact that he goes to sleep so fast makes it harder for me to go to sleep or stay asleep. He started snoring about 8 years ago. It's not his fault, it happens as we age. He can't sleep with lights on, I can't sleep with noise, so it is a wee bit problematic. Even if I sleep, I will wake if he really gets going. I know I am not the only person to have this problem. And...apparently I started snoring in the last year so. There is some weird poetic justice there somewhere.

The interesting thing about taking a nap is I usually fall asleep in 5 minutes or less. I sleep deeper and wake feeling I've slept. I rarely feel that way after a night's sleep. I'm not sure what the difference is. Maybe it is because the ambient sounds are do different during the day. It could be the amount of light in the room. It could be that I have the whole bed to myself or the fact that I don't have a 70# standard poodle sneaking up and trying to hog the bed. No...this was happening long before dog lived here. Maybe it is because I am half Mexican/Spanish. I think they have that siesta tradition down pat. It should be a world wide policy to take a nap after lunch.

Dimples stopped napping a few weeks before she turned two. She refuses to take one based on the fact that it isn't dark yet. I don't know what she's going to do when it doesn't get dark until 10:30. If I have to take a nap when she's here, we both get into bed, I give her the iPad, tell her to turn the sound way down and to stay put for an hour. This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I'm falling asleep in my chair which gives her too many opportunities to get into something she shouldn't.

Him naps if he's really sick. Which is very seldom. But he encourages me to nap because lack of sleep contributes to my pain levels and more pain makes me difficult. A nap feels indulgent...to just go to my bedroom, shut the door, shut out the world and all the worries that go with it, then do nothing except rest for a while. I love naps. If I had to choose between napping or eating, I would nap.


Are you a nap taker?

"M"ental Health or Why I'm Not Crazy

There are many facets to Mental Health. We have had some really bad "events" happen in recent months. Some of them touched us more personally than others. People want to blame many of these events on Mental Health. Personally it seems to me that anyone who would kill someone, outside of a military operation, must be a little "crazy". How could you not be when you take another life that way?

I am Bipolar. Him is not keen on me sharing that information. He is afraid that I will be judged in every situation by it. That people will be afraid of or for me. That they will start judging whether I am capable of dealing with my job, calling or the daily rigors of just living life.

I on the other hand usually give the information out shortly into a new friendship. Why? Because though I am medicated and under control I do occasionally have episodes still. They are considerably minor compared some of those I had in the past when I would become a danger to myself. But if I'm all spun up because of the mania, and I am only getting 1-3 hours of sleep a night for weeks, my friends need to know.

I don't get the "Puppies and kittens, I can do anything" kind of mania. I rapid cycle. I'm depressed at the same time I'm manic. I will bite my husband's head off and spit it out if he challenges me or make me angry. I usually give it about a week to know I am in a manic episode, not just being cranky and mean, then I let him know what is happening. When he asked the doc what he can do to help me when I'm manic, the doctor told him to "Put on his armor and try not to antagonize me". To disregard the angry things I might say or the un-rational thingsI may do that may rapidly get me to the point of tears or anger. That's when I get to the head biting point. Oh, yeah... and don't tell me I'm manic if I haven't recognized and declared it. Just quietly put on your armor and let me figure it out myself. I always do, but it may take a lot of drama to reach that point. This doesn't happen much anymore because the medication combination is working well. For now. Now I just get a little cranky and cant sleep.

The truth of it is, a casual acquaintance would never know I have a Mental Health issue. The world generally does not think of depression by itself as a Mental Health issue, they are just depressed. But... add mania to that label and suddenly you have someone that, in the opinion of society, could snap at any moment and do great harm to someone or a group of someones. The chance that there is not at least one person in your circle of people that is bipolar is zero. There are a lot of us, but a good portion feel like him does and keep it to themselves.

I'm not crazy. I have a brain that functions differently that yours. My brain works at warp speed, all the time, and sometimes it gets ahead of me. When a person has chronic insomnia for three or four weeks, they are bound to get cranky. So I let my friends and family know. That way when I ask them if I am acting a little manic, they know what to look for, what I am talking about and know they can give an honest answer.


I'm Bipolar. I have a Mental Health issue. I take head meds. It doesn't make me crazy.


Do you know someone who is bipolar?

"L"ollygag, "L"anguish, "L"azy or What Makes Sitting Around Okay

Lollygaging, Languishing or Lazy. All three have been used to describe me at one point or another in my life. Usually by my mother. I am still apparently guilty of these. Mostly because I'm not terribly concerned with keeping my house spotless. It is clean enough, no science projects in either the sink or fridge. Dishes are done a few times a day, though him does a good percent of them. He can't stand dishes in the sink or the dish drain. I told him if they bother him, do them. He does. Him is obsessive about doing laundry, he will run a load for a pair of pants, two shirts and a few pairs of sock. I do my own laundry because he likes to wash towels with anything and he shrinks my clothes. Sometimes they shrink themselves hanging in the closet. I can't blame him for that. I should mop the floors more often because the dog brings in stuff... specifically mud, wood and rocks. He brings in rocks. In his coat, in his paws, in his mouth. That's awesome, I tell ya. The bed is made every day, with travel blankets up over the top third of the bed so dog doesn't get his feet or his butt on my pillows. *shudder* Vacuuming is the bane of my existence. I do it, but not as often as I should. And we've already established that I don't dust, except in my office. I can't abide dust in here.

There's lazy and there's lazy... There's not doing anything, ever... and doing chores when they require your attention. Then there is compulsive cleaning. I would like a compulsively clean house, but not enough to actually make it that way. I have other things to do. I like to sit, watch TV now and then, while I'm knitting/crocheting/tatting/stitching/or reading. So I'm not totally lollygagging, I'm actually doing something while I am languishing in the chair in my office.

There is some compulsive behavior in not being able to just sit and watch TV without something in my hand. But that's the way I am, I always have been. My mom sure didn't see it that way. She just labeled me lazy because I didn't like doing the dishes, or vacuuming. It took me a while to realize I wasn't lazy, I am just more creative than my mother thought I should be. She thought my dad was lazy too but that was before she learned how to lollygag herself which turned into her very definition of lazy. This did not happen until she was much older than I am now. I will give her that.

I am not bothered by friends who think I don't keep a clean enough house. Not that any of them would dare to tell me such a thing. It is clean. It is clean enough. They are the compulsive ones, I am the creative one... I would rather be lollygagging with a project in my hand that on my knees scrubbing the kitchen floor every other day.


Are you a lollygager, languisher or proudly lazy?

Knitting or Why I Make Hats

I knit. I love to knit. I, apparently, have a problem with counting because if it is an intermediate pattern, I usually have to make it 2-4 times because of all the pulling back. This undoing of knitting is known as tinKing, Knitting backwards or frogging, ripit ripit. I make socks. I have made them enough that I don't have to think much about it. And I make hats. With patterns and without patterns. Specifically I make baby hats.

These hats come in all sizes, from full term to very premature. The size of a full term baby hat to hats the size of lemons. When my granddaughter was born in Michigan, she was given a homemade hat right after delivery. After they took her for a little bath and first shampoo, they put the most adorable homemade hat on her. It makes it seem less institutional.


I have made over 200 baby hats in the last 10 years. It doesn't take very long to make the hats for the little preemies. The charity I make them for is Care Wear, and for my church, as well. Primarily for Care Wear. They accept blankets, hats, toys and burial clothing. There is a a great deal of satisfaction in doing something for someone else. And something you will likely not be recognized for, certainly not by the recipient. I knit, I knit for charity. It makes me feel better to do something for someone else.

I am not tooting my own horn, I am shamelessly asking you to help with this any way you are able. They need all sizes of items. The hospitals cannot purchase hats small enough to fit the preemies. A handmade hat and blanket may be the only thing the babies worn before they passed. The blanket or hat may be the only thing the parents have that the baby wore or used. You cannot purchase preemie clothing, and the babies usually can only have a diaper on, giving the nurses access to them. Care Wear accepts items that have been sewn, knit, or crocheted. You can find Care Wear at http://www.carewear.org/index.php?page=home There is a link on that page that has patterns as well as the items they would like to have at http://www.carewear.org/content/assets/2012_CareWear_Pattern_and_Information_Book.pdf They are there for you to use. They are of course free.

I knit. I love to knit. I knit hats.I love to knit for someone that really needs something I have the ability to create.
Please help if you are able.


Have you ever been the recipient of anonymous charity?

"J"unk or Why I Collect Patterns and The Supplies To Make Them

Junk. My definition? That which is just taking up space in the closet that you have too much o. "One man's junk is another man's treasure." Its's true you know. There is always someone willing to take some of what has been deemed junk by someone. Just look at the number of garage sales that take place.

I collect patterns and the supplies to make them.

I have cross stitch and embroidery junk.I have yards of cross stitch fabric, boxes of thread, kits to make and so many patterns it borders on the obscene. I have a smal box of cross stitch kits. The odd thing is I can't really see to do cross stitch on 28 count linen anymore. I have every color of floss they made when I purchased it all. But I won't let go of any of it. I have some of the embroidery projects my mother was working on a few years before she passed that I will never finish or use because I don't care for that kind of embroidery, but that is a different thing all together.

I have knitting junk. I collect knitting patterns. A lot of patterns. I have good yarn for a certain patterns, I have cheap old Red Heart for making toys for humanitarian projects. It wears better. I have a huge bag of Red Heart. I've been caught up in knitting blankets, hats, socks and sweaters for my granddaughter the last three and a half years, while trying to finish a pair of socks for myself. I still collect patterns that have nothing to do with what I am knitting. I inherited my MIL's knitting supplies when she passed. Someone gave me some more needles, a large bundle of knitting needles that was in a box aquired at a garage sale. With circular, double point and straights, wood, metal and plastic, I have somewhere around 150 sets of needles. That borders on OCD. Crocheting is much the same. I have crocheted a lot in my life, afghans, doilies, altar cloths and toys. I have a couple of WIP (works in progress) that I pick up every now and then...when I'm not knitting. I have an afghan that is mostly finished that I really need to get back to. I have a couple of drawers of cotton thread, and only three full sets of crochet hooks, Granted some of the thread has been been given to me when someone else decided it was junk taking up space in their house, but still.

I have spinning junk. I have a spinning wheel. I've had it for a number of years. I bought it primarily because I have always wanted a spinning wheel to sit in my living room, an accent, like an end table. I kept running into people that were spinners. They were willing to teach me, so I thought I would give it a try. I do actually spin a few times a week and I am planning on using what I spin to knit something. I don't know what yet, it remains to be seen what they yarn turns out to be. I have a few bags of roving to spin into yarn. It is a project I will actually work on as it doesn't require me to see tiny detail, and the spinning itself isn't too hard on the hands or feet. But, in anticipation, most of the spinners I know give away a tiny bit of what they spin, and the rest of it is sitting in baskets, drawers, closets or boxes... they just spin, they don't actually do anything with what they spin. That makes me feel better. Another plus to spinning is that it does not require a pattern.

I have quilting junk. I have quilting fabric and quilting kits because someone convinced me I would love it. I guess I forgot I hate to sew. But I keep it because I bought it and you never know when you might need a piece of fabric for something. I also have yards and yards of batting for all the quilts I was going to make. That was foolish. But who knows. Maybe someday I will decide I want to finish the two quilts I have started.

I have tatting junk. I have more tatting patterns than could possible be completed in one lifetime. I have beautiful diamond wood shuttles, metal shuttles, and plastic shuttles. Certainly more than I can tat with at one time and thread in a rainbow of colors to go with all those patterns I want to make. Someone gave me most of the thread. And I do teach tatting on occasion, so having extra shuttles for them to learn with is a good idea, right?

I have random junk. I have plastic canvas supplies. I have mini frames, small frames and 8x10 frames, I have oil painting supplies. I gave up oil painting because you can hide only so many canvases under and behind the sofa. I have loads of ceramic supplies. There's a kiln in the garage that hasn't been fired in well over 15 years. There aren't any ceramic supplie stores in Western Montana I am aware of. I have every color of pen that Sharpie makes, watercolor paint, oil sticks and chalk for drawing. I have a mat cutter, enough brushes to start a store and various papers needed to go with all those art supplies.

Him asked me once if he could have one of my thousand craft bags. A slight exaggeration to be sure, but the point was well taken. However, in defense, I usually use every bag I have at least once a year for something. So there's that. Most of those bags were free from somewhere, but not all.

Him collects fly fishing junk. A lot of it. Rods, reels, flys, hooks, vices to tie flys, material to tie flys, vests to carry all the fishing junk, waders to fish in, more rods and reels and more rods and reels. And some that is mine, but a very small portion. My collection cost far less that his, to be sure.

I finally came to the conclusion that I am a collector, specifically of patterns. Some women collect tea cups, some collect thimbles. I've been collecting patterns for 34 years, so it is a substantial collection. I won't beat myself up or feel guilty for not actually getting them finished. I am a collector. A collector of junk, some would say. I have far more patterns than the material to make them. Wth the advent of the Internet, it became possible to collect all the patterns to make more junk I could imagine. And most are free patterns! I like to look at patterns, the pictures, the yarn, the art, the beauty of the work created by someone's hands. I don't read magazines, drooling over handbags, dresses, recipes, dining room sets or beautiful rooms. I look at patterns. Then I download them to my hard drive collecting them like a squirrel hoarding nuts as he prepares for winter.

I will spend days looking at little girl sweater patterns. I download them all, knowing full well I will never make most of them. Yet... when I start another knitting project, I need a different pattern, because the ones I have are not exactly what I want. The last four knitting projects I had? I didnt have the right size needle and had to go buy them. How can that be, with all the needles I have stashed around here. Every time I started a cross stitch or embroidery project, I needed to go buy a couple of colors I didn't have. I ask you, how can that be? Because you can never have too much craft junk.


What "junk" do you have that you collect and treasure?

"I"ndonesia or What I Learned Living In A Third World Country

In 1996, Him had the opportunity to go to Indonesia for two years with his job. It turned out too be three, and I was of course invited to go with him. Every year we got a one month home leave designed to get us back to the States and get medical issues dealt with, get medications reordered for the year, visit family and eat at Taco Bell.

The first home leave we were offered was only 8 or 9 months after arriving, due to the staggering of employees being gone for a year. It was decided since we had just left home and were pretty good on all the reasons to go home, we would go to Australia, more specifically, Tasmania, on the company dime. We were hoping for some Western Food. That was not to be... other than the regular fast food restaurants we already had access to in Indonesia and The Hard Rock Cafe, which seemed to be everywhere in Asia, the food was as foreign as where we had come from. As a matter of fact, we had trouble even finding restaurants to eat at. They were all 'take away'. We were about three weeks into the trip when we realized all the places to eat were in Pubs. Oh well. Now we know.

What I learned about Indonesians is they were a happy people. They were happy with what they had. Not to say they didn't hope for or want better, but they were willing to wait. Most of them. I learned that they were not a violent people, but if, as an expat or someone with a big house, if you didn't have someone at your house all the time, someone would rob you. I learned that they were happy if they had a piece of chicken to go with their rice and weeds a time or two a week. I learned they love American food and are perfectly happy with left overs. They are happy to have a job. Everyone has a job, even if it is telling you where to park on the street. They will stand in line to get a job at one of those "horrible American sweat shops" like Nike. They work 12 hours a day 6-7 days a week anywhere they work, they make more money with benefits there. I learned they are eager to help and have you be their "friend". They don't care if they know you, they will ask to have a photo with you. They will put it on their wall and tell everyone you are their American friend. It gives them status. They are industrious when they need to be but can sleep any time they get the chance. It was inexpensive to live there and I could get an hour of Shiatsu massage for $.25. I got a lot of massages over there. I learned they believe in magic. No, really, they do.

I learned that when him and I did not have the trappings of the frantic life we live over here, we spent much more time together. We were all we had over there. He had his employees, I had the servants, but for the most part any time spent away from work was spent together. We occasionally spent time with other expats, but that was only a time or two a month. I learned that the closer you get to the equator, the more creatures there are that will try to kill you. I learned that Christmas spent in a primarily Muslim country, is better. Again, no trappings of the holiday, no tree, no decorations, nothing to buy for each other because we were too "big" for any clothing and there just was nothing else and unless you were in a Chinese owned establishment, no music. We appreciated the meaning of Christmas much more. I learned to eat ugly food. I wouldn't eat ugly food before I was there but I had to eat it or not eat when we went out for dinner and particularly with Indonesians. I forgot how to drive. I had a driver for three years, and him drove when we went home because we were in a rental car. I learned what a country wide evacuation of expats due to civil unrest is frightening, but manageable. I learned that there are still pioneers in the church. Our Branch only had one person in it that was a second generation member. They thought because we were from America, we all the answers to all questions that might come up. I learned that hearing the Christmas story being read from the book of Luke at the same time as the call to prayer was being made is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. I learned that I loved the Indonesian people and that I would worry, wonder and miss them when I left that place. I loved the jungles, the monkeys, Bali, Planet Hollywood's caesar salad, going to Singapore and finding out they had a Taco Bell there. I learned him and I can share an office if it is big enough.

I especially loved that the pace was slower. That the huge markets of fabric or an entire street with men at treadle sewing machines sewing jeans was a cool place to shop. Indonesian art, especially the Batik, is beautiful. The people are beautiful. They are happy. We were happy there, until the civil unrest began to be a problem again, and we came home again, for good this time. Then it was back to normal. Too busy, too involved too much stuff to take care of, no maid, no gardner, no guard.

There are so many things I learned living in a third world country, with third world people who had third world problems. Like working and earning just enough to buy rice that day. And maybe a weed to put in it. We as Americans are generally spoiled. We don't appreciate how lucky we are to live in this country. We don't realize how much we really have as we covet and stive to get more. How civil disobedience is not a part of our daily lives. Him and I don't spend as much time together. He has his computer and stuff downstairs in his cave, I am in a bedroom converted to be my office. I learned that being an American is so much easier than being an Indonesian.

I miss the togetherness that isn't possible here because we are too busy being Americans. I miss the temperate weather. But mostly. I miss the people. Those happy people who are satisfied with who and what they are.



Is there something that you learned that makes you appreciate who and where you are?

"H"ome or Why I'm A Hermit

Home. The very word conjures up emotions and memories.

For me, where ever I am sleeping is home when I am referring to where I need to go back to. Or, specifically where him is at, is home. A hotel, our house, or tent, a room on a cruise ship, all home. It's a little more than where the heart is, though my husband does hold my heart. Going to my first home, which is where my dad lives, carries a lot of memories of my mom. It is comfortable to be back there. Leaving is always difficult. it is a different brand of home for my heart.

I prefer to be home. No matter where specifically I am calling home that day. If we are camping, I would rather stay in camp and listen to a book while I am knitting. If we are traveling, I prefer to stay in the hotel rather than go out sight seeing. Cruising is awesome because I am not required to do anything more than eat and go sit in one of the salons with him. If I am here, in my home, I would always rather stay home than go anywhere. Unless we are going on a trip. It could be that riding in the car is uncomfortable causing pain in my body. It could be that I don't like to do much outside my home. It could be that I'm lazy and it takes work to get ready to get out of the house, specifically requiring me to get out of my comfy clothes and actually get dressed. It really doesn't matter why, I am comfortable being in my home, being a hermit. A serious hermit, keeping the blinds down in my office (mostly because I can't see my iPad), in the living room because nobody can see the TV if they are opened and because it helps the house stay warmer or cooler.

I like to be in, away from the heat/cold. I always have some knitting/crocheting/tatting/stitching/spinnin project I am working on and would rather be here doing it. I leave my house every Sunday for Church meetings. I like leaving for there and it is only a two minute drive. I usually go to town with him every three weeks or so to go to a movie and lunch/dinner. Once a month I try to get to a spin in with a friend trying to improve my spinning skills. I've only managed to get there once in the last 7 months. And once a month to a fiber guild meeting here in my town. I've made it to that twice in 9 months. Something else always manages to come up, I am sick, Dimples is up, meeting I have to go to, someone else visiting here. Lots of people want to come stay here because we are just a couple of minute walk from the Blackfoot River. You know, the one in the movie A River Runs Through it. Visitors kind of get in the way of my hermithood.

Him is the opposite. Him can't abide staying home. I actually cannot tell you the last time he stayed home the whole day unless he is very sick. If him does not have something planned, which is mostly fishing in the summer, he has meetings for the two boards he is on here in our little town, teaching fishing/fly tying/water saftey classes at the elementary school, teaching fly tying classes to community members, helping someone understand what they should do to survive a certain type of cancer they have that he had, going to one town or another 70 miles away and in the summer he is a fishing guide. And if nothing else is on him's calendar, he will at the very least go into our little town to get the mail. Did I mention he is retired? Him is busy with something every single day. It makes me a little dizzy.

My husband and my stuff define where I am most comfortable, sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes sometimes both. And, where I will be sleeping that night. I am comfortable my home. It is where all my stuff is. Which is another definition of what home is, to me. I like it here. My husband and I have many memories of home. My child and my grandchild, most of our memories were made in our home. This is where we make our most important memories.


What makes it home for you?

"G"ratitude or Why I Give Thanks

I am grateful for so much in my life. There are too many things to be grateful for that I couldn't enumerate them all. And I wouldn't bore you with all the mundane things I am grateful of.

However, I do not show or verbalize my gratitude enough. It doesn't mean I didn't appreciate something I have received or some act of kindness. I am much more likely to say or show thanks to people that live outside of my home. That's a shame. And...I do not thank my Heavenly Father enough or all He has blessed me with.

On Facebook, for the entire month of November I accept the challenge to find something different every day of the month I am grateful for and post that gratitude. We all spend some time recognizing our blessings in our lives during the Thanksgiving season. After all, it is the holiday was created specifically to show thanks to our fore fathers and what they did or us as well as recognize our own blessings and then give thanks for them.

Easter season is the same for me. To bring to mind all I have been blessed with. And to know where those blessing have come from.

I also know that showing gratitude, verbally or by my own act of kindness will bring more blessings. Everyone likes to be thanked or know what they do is appreciated.

I am striving to show more gratitude to those I love most. I have so much to be grateful for. I only need to look around myself every single day to see them. And then to say thank you when someone else blesses my life in any way.

What are you grateful for?

"F"orgetful Me or Excuses For Why I Didn't Make A Post Yesterday

Forgive my excuses... There are a number of them, actually.

1. I forgot.
2. I'm sort of lazy.
3. I had switched the notifications on my iPad to mute and forgot to turn them back on.
4. I'm incredibly forgetful. I believe I have a Teflon coated, Swiss cheese brain that lets everything fall out, no matter how I try to keep a grip on it. I cannot remember a thing if I don't have an alarm go off. Nothing. Ever.
5. However, most importantly, as a member of The Church of Latter Day Saints, this is a special weekend. We have two days of meetings where we are taught at the feet of our leaders. My mind was filled with Spiritual things yesterday, not things of the Internet. This happens twice a year. The first weekend in April and again in October. I look forward to it. To be taught. To be uplifted and inspired to be a better person.

I hope to get the post that is supposed to be made today done today, but it is another day of teaching and inspiration.

What inspires you?

"E"lectricity or Why I Can't Go Off the Grid

Electricity is such a blessing and a bane in our lives. It gives us light, let's us wash our clothes in a washing machine in the house rather than down in the river. It, though not here where wood stoves rule, lets us have heat, or depending on where you live, air conditioning, both keeping us climate controlled and comfortable. We have a more reliable device to cook on than the wood stove. We can have our cell phones, iPads, television and computers too. It lets us keep our food safer and longer. We can run our lawn mowers, trimmers, drills, saws, recharge our batteries, and even run our cars. It makes our pump work, giving me water, giving me the ability to flush a toilet. It's easy to take it for granted when it just works. But let it go out and the average person gets a little panicky.

Electricity is a bane as well. That old double edged sword. Because we have light 24 hours a day, we are no longer governed by our natural circadian rhythms. We stay up too late and get up too early because of the hectic pace of life. We have to ability to "go" anywhere at night because we need to be doing something that doesn't involve staying home... that's boring and does not entertain us enough. Stores are open, the movies are playing, there are concerts, clubs, bowling, and of course, restaurants to eat in so you don't have to cook. There is so much to do after you finish at work, you job being entirely dependent on electricity, that we don't get together as families to eat before the sun goes down...

I have often considered going off the grid. Him and I have talked about it at length, what it would entail and if I could really do it. Going off the grid isn't an unusual thing here in Western Montana, it's not terribly common, but there are enough people living that way that there are stores dedicated to living off the grid. There are entire towns in Montana that are off the grid. If you don't know what off the grid means, it is to be somewhere that has no civilized services. Electricity, phones, wells, important things like that. Just about every appliance you can think of can be converted to run on propane. Refrigerator, stove, lights. But, propane can't, make electricity (except with a propane generator which is only 10% efficient). We could buy a wind generator and a few hundred batteries to store it, for a gabillion dollars and generate your own electricity. We could have high end solar panels to heat your water, and possibly your house. We would have to buy cisterns and either take them somewhere to fill them, have someone come fill it, or catch rain water. Where I live, you would need to have a number of cisterns and catch as much rain as we can during the one maybe two months that we have any substantial rain. We could get a bike, rig it up the right way, and ride it when we need electricity, or again, store what we make in batteries, which won't be all that much. This would never work for me, I can't ride a bike to the corner and back, so him would have to do all the electricity generation. We would have to have a composting toilet. All our grey water would be drained out into the garden. The work of providing sustenance for ourselves would be hard work. Taking care of our meat on the hoof, growing a garden, hunting every year for what meat you don't raise ourselves.

In the days before electricity everything that was done was done with purpose. Either feeding yourself, preparing for winter, maintaining your shelter or using what extra you had to barter for what you didn't. You would spend the time growing food, making food for the table, canning food to put in the pantry or food cellar for winter, growing livestock, getting wood gathered, split and stacked so you could stay warm all winter. It's a lot of work, hard work. Which is why people who lived or now live this way are ready for bed when it got dark. Off the grid means spending a little time together reading, knitting, mending, preparing for the next day, talking about the day to the light of lanterns before it is time to go to bed. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Every day, the same.

I would like to go off the grid. I don't like neighbors. No matter how neighborly or how unfriendly. I don't like neighbors close enough to see their house. I don't like hearing their alarm go off at 6:00 AM all year long when my windows are open. I don't like hearing their dogs bark. I don't like my dog barking and bothering them. I am annoyed that their yard looks like an auto salvage yard. And I loath hearing the highway noise. But the single most important reason I couldn't go off the grid now? I couldn't charge my iPad or use my computer. I am chained to these two devices. And I don't know what would happen to Dimples if she didn't have the iPod to play with, it's possible the earth would crash into the sun. All my books are on the iPad. I get all my information off the internet. They have solar chargers for phones, iPads and iPods now. Lay the solar pad in the sun, put an adapter on your electronic, lay it on the charger pad. That's brilliant. But you wouldn't be able to use a computer, even if you could generate enough electricity to power it, because you would have no phone or cable to provide internet access. It would be a huge paper weight.

You may ask why? Why would anyone want to give up the conveniences of modern living? My reasons, besides the ones already stated, which I realize are all negative, families worked together. They depended on every single body in the family to work for their survival. There is less "stuff" to be attached to. I could go back to paper books. I would lose my games... but I wouldn't have time for them anyway. Maybe Dimples would start playing with non-electronic toys, start reading paper books as well. It's possible without TV and computer, there would be more time actually spent in the same room with people you love. I think about how excited the world was when electricity began to roll out across the world, knowing it would make their lives so much better, so much easier! Little did they know that the magnificent inventions that followed the advent of electricity would change the very fabric of humanity.

So, sometimes I fantasize about going off the grid. Being different than we are now. That very romantic notion suits my hermit personality well. The harsh realities of being off the grid does notsuit my iPad toting, internet surfing, hot bath taking, lazy self. At.All. So... I will continue to to occasionally dream and talk about running away to the mountains somewhere to live off the grid. Then come back to reality and go take a hot bath in my warm bathroom while I'm running a load of laundry and have the crock pot simmering the meat I took out of the freezer knowing this is an easier life and appreciating it greatly. Maybe it would be easier to buy a house that has a few acres and no neighbors.



Are you a social butterfly or would you like to be an off the grider?