My roommate in heaven will be perfect! My R-n-H will know how to change the empty toilet paper roll. My R-n-H will not drip liquid handsoap or toothpaste. My R-n-H will know how to operate light switches in BOTH directions. My R-n-H will understand when to keep quiet and when to speak. My R-n-H will love classical music. My R-n-H will not put 'balls' of hay-filled-socks into the laundry basket. My R-n-H will not use the dish towel for wiping muddy hands. My R-n-H will not need to keep an assortment of munchies within arms reach of the favorite chair. My R-n-H will understand the purpose of coasters. My R-n-H will understand that I don't have a built-in key/eye-glasses/wallet finder. My R-n-H will be able to sleep through anything, and without snoring. My R-n-H will use only 1/4 of the bed. My R-n-H's arms will not tire when massaging my back.
My experience here on this earth is teaching me wondrous things about heaven.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
last chick update
Well, maybe... we'll see. It was pretty rough going into the chicken house today. Hubby keeps it super clean, but there are a lot of chicks! As much as I love fresh eggs and being self-sufficient, I want nothing to do with the chickens. I have a medical situation that dictates I should not be spending time in a chicken house. 'nuf said. And Hubby is not one to pick up a camera. Once they are old enough to go outside there will be more pictures, but for now... 0n to the comparison shots.
The top photo is one from April 9th - our 1st day. It's not the greatest, but I wanted to include the gallon waterer to give scale. At that size, they could have used the lip as a bird bath. They were no wider than the trough. The 2nd photo I shot today in the chicken house. That makes them 5-1/2 weeks old. Also note that in the 1st shot the waterer is sitting on the shavings and in the 2nd shot, it's up on large bricks.
The top photo is one from April 9th - our 1st day. It's not the greatest, but I wanted to include the gallon waterer to give scale. At that size, they could have used the lip as a bird bath. They were no wider than the trough. The 2nd photo I shot today in the chicken house. That makes them 5-1/2 weeks old. Also note that in the 1st shot the waterer is sitting on the shavings and in the 2nd shot, it's up on large bricks.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Maggie & Me
I was just gazing through some old pictures and thought I'd share.
Believe it or not, it was love-at-first-sight with Maggie.
She was my first horse... an off-the-track thoroughbred,
neglected and needing a home.
Here she is, the way she looked then, at twenty-five years old!
My favorite picture... This was taken about three months later. I got her weight back to what it should be and she looked like a winner!
I never used a bit with her. Only a halter with reins clipped on.
I trail-rode her this way. Lovely gal. I miss her.
She lives a ways north of here now with a friend of mine.
...and she still runs like the wind!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Mother's Day heartache
I'm still reflecting on Mother's Day... not a good thing. I wish I could stop thinking about it. I've contemplated writing about it many times, for therapeutic reasons, then changed my mind. I've prayed about it so many times over the years. Why can't I just take it in stride?
You're wondering what's up? Did my mother die tragically? Was I abandoned? No. My mother lives less than two miles away in a senior's apartment building. I help take care of her. But when it comes to Mother's Day... Let's just say she is not the mother they write about in the greeting cards. I have no fond memories of my childhood that involve her. I have a hard time dealing with my jealousy of others that have great moms. Why couldn't I have one of those moms? I really think I would be better off emotionally if I had never known her... if I had been abandoned. At least then I could let my imagination create a loving lady that had no choice, that loved me enough to want the best for me.
From the time I was very young I remember feeling like my mom didn't really want me. And she probably didn't. I was the third child born into the unhappy marriage. I guess birth control wasn't in her vocabulary. My father married her because she was pregnant with my oldest brother. Another brother, four years younger than the first, might have been planned. I've never asked. I'm quite sure that I, as well as my youngest brother, were totally unexpected.
Mom and Dad were married about thirty years... That to me is amazing, considering their daily lives! There was no love between them. There wasn't much shown to us kids either. During their entire marriage, my dad never once gave my mother a birthday or Christmas present. No card, no flowers. Nothing. He made nasty comments about her weight at the dinner table. She slammed cupboard doors and grumbled. He retreated with his beer can to the basement or the garage.
I have no memories of Mom helping me to get ready for my prom. She would never have allowed me to go. She never taught me how to cook or keep house. She never told me about love. The memories I have of Mom are her calling us nasty names, her chasing us out of the house, her telling me that when I grew up I'd probably end up 'in trouble'. I could write a book on the negative things I remember from my childhood and teenage years, but that's not what this is about. It's about me.
The only time I remember hearing the word love was when my brothers and I would fight. Dad would tell us that we shouldn't fight because we loved each other. It's no wonder I grew up with a screwed-up definition of love! When I was in my twenties (my parents lived 1000 miles away then) I made myself tell them "I love you" at the end of a telephone call. There was a period of silence... Then, "I love you, too." It wasn't the way I imagined it sounding. It sounded strained, unnatural.
Now that I'm supposedly wiser, I think my parents aren't capable of that kind of love. Not everybody is. It's just that simple. I drew the short straw. But where does that leave me?
The leading character of my manuscript has a very skewed picture of what love is. I relate to her a lot. I made a mess of my past life because of that very reason. It wasn't until I let Jesus into my heart that I really understood love.
I vowed, when I had my daughter, that she would hear those words every day. And she did. Still, we don't have the relationship I wish we had. I did all the right 'mom' things for the most part. Our relationship changed during her rebellious teenage years. I was divorced and didn't have the answers. I don't think she's out of those years yet... but I blame myself for that.
Whoever you are reading this, I wish I had your mom. Because then I would know how to be that mom. I didn't have a script to go by. I don't have a clue how to be that great mom that I read about in the Mother's Day cards. Maybe if Mom hadn't run us out of the house so much, I could've watched those sixty shows that people are always talking about... you know... the ones that have the perfect mom and dad.
My best friend can't understand why I help my mom now. She remembers all too well. But my mom is old now and she needs help. My brothers aren't going to do it, so I guess I feel it's my obligation. She feels that way too. She went many years without having anything to do with me. Then she got old. She told me she was coming back because she needed me to take care of her. The Bible tells us to honor our mother and father. I have wrestled with this a lot. It's the reason that most people don't know the private side. It's the reason I've deleted several things I just wrote. I feel it's not honoring them to write this, even though I didn't really get into the nitty-gritty details. At least no one that knows them will be reading it.
So this Mother's Day, I went through the same anguish trying to pick an 'appropriate' card for Mom. I just can't bring myself to give her one of those 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting cards. It hurts too much. What hurts worse? When I open my daughter's card to me and don't find the 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting card.
You're wondering what's up? Did my mother die tragically? Was I abandoned? No. My mother lives less than two miles away in a senior's apartment building. I help take care of her. But when it comes to Mother's Day... Let's just say she is not the mother they write about in the greeting cards. I have no fond memories of my childhood that involve her. I have a hard time dealing with my jealousy of others that have great moms. Why couldn't I have one of those moms? I really think I would be better off emotionally if I had never known her... if I had been abandoned. At least then I could let my imagination create a loving lady that had no choice, that loved me enough to want the best for me.
From the time I was very young I remember feeling like my mom didn't really want me. And she probably didn't. I was the third child born into the unhappy marriage. I guess birth control wasn't in her vocabulary. My father married her because she was pregnant with my oldest brother. Another brother, four years younger than the first, might have been planned. I've never asked. I'm quite sure that I, as well as my youngest brother, were totally unexpected.
Mom and Dad were married about thirty years... That to me is amazing, considering their daily lives! There was no love between them. There wasn't much shown to us kids either. During their entire marriage, my dad never once gave my mother a birthday or Christmas present. No card, no flowers. Nothing. He made nasty comments about her weight at the dinner table. She slammed cupboard doors and grumbled. He retreated with his beer can to the basement or the garage.
I have no memories of Mom helping me to get ready for my prom. She would never have allowed me to go. She never taught me how to cook or keep house. She never told me about love. The memories I have of Mom are her calling us nasty names, her chasing us out of the house, her telling me that when I grew up I'd probably end up 'in trouble'. I could write a book on the negative things I remember from my childhood and teenage years, but that's not what this is about. It's about me.
The only time I remember hearing the word love was when my brothers and I would fight. Dad would tell us that we shouldn't fight because we loved each other. It's no wonder I grew up with a screwed-up definition of love! When I was in my twenties (my parents lived 1000 miles away then) I made myself tell them "I love you" at the end of a telephone call. There was a period of silence... Then, "I love you, too." It wasn't the way I imagined it sounding. It sounded strained, unnatural.
Now that I'm supposedly wiser, I think my parents aren't capable of that kind of love. Not everybody is. It's just that simple. I drew the short straw. But where does that leave me?
The leading character of my manuscript has a very skewed picture of what love is. I relate to her a lot. I made a mess of my past life because of that very reason. It wasn't until I let Jesus into my heart that I really understood love.
I vowed, when I had my daughter, that she would hear those words every day. And she did. Still, we don't have the relationship I wish we had. I did all the right 'mom' things for the most part. Our relationship changed during her rebellious teenage years. I was divorced and didn't have the answers. I don't think she's out of those years yet... but I blame myself for that.
Whoever you are reading this, I wish I had your mom. Because then I would know how to be that mom. I didn't have a script to go by. I don't have a clue how to be that great mom that I read about in the Mother's Day cards. Maybe if Mom hadn't run us out of the house so much, I could've watched those sixty shows that people are always talking about... you know... the ones that have the perfect mom and dad.
My best friend can't understand why I help my mom now. She remembers all too well. But my mom is old now and she needs help. My brothers aren't going to do it, so I guess I feel it's my obligation. She feels that way too. She went many years without having anything to do with me. Then she got old. She told me she was coming back because she needed me to take care of her. The Bible tells us to honor our mother and father. I have wrestled with this a lot. It's the reason that most people don't know the private side. It's the reason I've deleted several things I just wrote. I feel it's not honoring them to write this, even though I didn't really get into the nitty-gritty details. At least no one that knows them will be reading it.
So this Mother's Day, I went through the same anguish trying to pick an 'appropriate' card for Mom. I just can't bring myself to give her one of those 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting cards. It hurts too much. What hurts worse? When I open my daughter's card to me and don't find the 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting card.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
beautiful day on the farm
The weather was beautiful today.
I managed to get some garden chores done and even got a start
on the steps project from my balcony to the pool area!
I'll post some pics when I get farther along.
The forecast indicates it may be awhile.
But for now, enjoy these sites I shot today...
I love this willow shrub! It is over six feet tall now. This time of year it is covered with a worm-looking growth.
It was too breezy to get a good close-up of them.
The Japanese blood grass I transplanted is doing very well.I love the way it looks when the evening sun hits the blades.
It becomes almost transparent!
The color of the sky was a perfect contrast to the brightly lit branches of our ornamental plum.
This iris is what I remember from my grandmother's flower bed.I love the combination of the stark yellow and delicate lavender.
hitting this bright yellow iris!
I just noticed this artwork on the sitting rock today.The grandkids were playing with their sidewalk chalk this weekend...
I think it's a 'welcoming' touch!
The new iris bed is doing well. I worried because the bulbs were out of the ground so long.
It's certainly an improvement over the transformer box!
It's certainly an improvement over the transformer box!
One of our baby pines. It's about six feet tall now and is getting it's first pine cones!
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