Tricking Small Children

What happens when a little girl asks to hear stories about "her" horse's day at her Pop's farm in West Virginia?  The horse writes her, of course.

My sister said that she was getting a daily barrage of Q &A from the little girl. "What's Tate up to today, mom?"  "I wonder if he's being a good boy?"  "Is he being nice to Rainy Day and Patches?" Sighing, I'm sure my sister in all her adult wisdom responded with something like "I wish I knew, sweetie. But I don't think Tate does much more than eat grass and fertilize the lawn.  It would be nice to ask him what he does all day out at the farm but horses can't really talk or write."

*buzzer*

WRONG-O, mom. Wrong-o.

Of course horses talk and write!  Duh.

Luckily, the little girl's Aunt Poo went out to the barn with a large pencil in hand and some wide-lined paper and stood by while Tate wrote 5 long pages detailing his experiences with Tuna, the barnyard cat and Patches, his very best friend who has long eyelashes and a sassy disposition.

Word on the street is that it was bought, hook, line and sinker.

What to do when there's nothing to do: A survival guide for country folk without power, water, AC, road access and hope

Friends with Power,

I write to you with the sound of our backup generator sputtering mercifully in the background. Instead of using our alternate source of power for reasonable things like DVD watching and online poker playing, we are making sure our 2 deep freezers full of deer carcass and minestrone soup stay edible. It's a worthy cause I reckon. However, I'm melting. It neared 100 degrees yesterday which is why I was on my back on my living room floor flailing my arms and legs in a summer-time snow angel motion.

The thought of being without modern conveniences for an extended period of time is not savory, however, it's kind pioneerish which in my head puts me alongside one of my childhood idols, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Now the only difference between her and me is an electric toothbrush.

If you look closely in the background, you can see one of our horses, Patches, fa-la-te-de-da-ing and grazing on some nearby grass. Little did she know that in a few short minutes, she'd have an 100 lb. metal barn door careening towards her.  She jumped the fence like a champ and thus saved her hind end.

Hard to imagine that just hours earlier, the sky looked like this...

Yesterday morning, I took a 3 hour hike to assess the damage caused by this storm.  Along my route, I came across these fellows:

Cows are naturally afraid of everything under the sun so when I asked this guy if he was spooked from the storm, he answered "Duh, yeah."

Moving on to things that aren't quite as sassy, here we have Queen Anne's Lace (my favorite flower of all time).

On a side note, I will never understand the thought process behind someone rolling their crusty car down the ditch on someone else's property.  Or maybe I can.  It maybe sounds something like this: "Here you go! You don't want this but here you go!" 

But that car has nothing to do with the storm.  Me taking a picture of my fancy farm boots in the stream does.

The reason I was playing down at the stream was because I was meeting this guy on the four-wheeler.

Yours Truly had to sit through (seemingly) hours of the following:  "Amanda Kate, let it be known that your dad is a GENIUS!"  Of course he was referring to his funnel and hose contraption that he was using to collect water from the stream for bathing and toilet flushing.  I gave him kudos.  It was smart. I come by it honestly.

Finally on the way back, I found this old spare tire on the side of the road.  I also took some pictures of huge trees that had been uprooted but who wants to see that?  Random roadside trash is far more interesting. I hope you agree. 

*This post was written two weeks ago.  By now, you know better than to assume I'll be timely with my posts.  We have since gotten power, water and road access back after 10 days without.  You should know it was a precarious and smelly situation. 

An Open Letter

While my brother and I were on the train back from our wanderlust excursion in Rome, we had the great fortune of sitting next a woman reading the NYT.  Our great fortune was not that she was reading our "hometown USA paper" but that Patti was the best riding companion and the most perfect stranger you could conjure up.  After chatting a while about Clint’s military service, we delved into her time in Italy (she is American) and the fascinating jobs she has since undertaken.  There isn’t much Patti hasn’t done or seen or any subject matter she cannot speak eloquently about. 

Frankly, it’s admirable that anyone could acquire as much knowledge and not use it for world domination.

After exchanging contact information and a solemn promise to visit her in her countryside home on the outskirts of Florence --- someday---, we have kept in contact every so often to exchange life tales. 

Recently, Patti lost her mother.  The natural order of things suggests that it is reasonable that all of us will be orphaned at some point in our lives.  However, knowing that in advance does not preclude you or in any way soften the blow of experiencing the stinging loss once it arrives at your doorstep.

Our email exchange this week had Patti reminiscing about the loving legacy her mother left.  She asked that I share a story about my mom.  What I wrote to her really was not as much of a story as it was a short testament to my mother’s continued legacy… how it inspires me to be more purposeful in my everyday interactions with others, show more grace and acceptance of others then I could ever ask for or expect in return.

It is good to remember that at this moment, today, we are all writing our own stories, crafting our own legacy.   What will mine be?  What will yours be?

…

Even still, I have people who knew my mother (some in a very superficial capacity) seek me out to relate stories of something she said or wrote to them during their darkest moments that had a profound impact on their life. She had this intangible quality that attracted others to her.  By the droves.

Her influence was not a result of knowing all the right words to say, or having some overly empathetic aura.  I think her secret (as far I can put into words; it is mostly intangible) was that people knew that she accepted them wholly and completely as they were.  It was immediate and without reservation.  Thinking back, I know that part of her was crafted both by nature as she was always a compassionate and caring person.  Yet, I know that part of her was also crafted, more painfully, by nurture. 

I think my mom struggled with feelings of inferiority and unworthiness.  This may have been spurred on by her lack of desire (and she would have said lack of aptitude) to excel in school.  She had "only" dreamed of being a mother.  People in her life further solidified these and other negative core beliefs, mostly unintentionally.

Mom knew what it was to look to others for approval and come up empty handed. That led her to turn one of her perceived frailties into a great strength.  What was withheld from her she so freely gave away. Unconditional acceptance. 

No matter who we are, where we came from, or where we think we're going, once we inquire of the world (and we all do... it's not really a question of "if")  "Am I enough?  Am I lovable?" we’re already defeated as we have left our most vulnerable of questions open for debate.  

How rare and lovely are those who, by their very presence, convince us of our own worthiness before we can even open our mouths to persuade them of it.

But Baby It's Cold Outside...

Hello there, Friends.  Glad you're checking to see if I'm still e-alive.  To make up for this gross lapse in communication, below are some pictures from last weekends snow storm on the farm.  It was a storm that even a Yankee could be proud of. 

By the way, the title of this blog is of course from the classic Christmas jingle, "Baby it's Cold Outside".  Have you ever listened to the lyrics to this song and thought, "Wow. Creepy."?  Let me set the stage.  Imagine you're at some dudes house for dinner. You laughed together, you ate roasted lamb, you had an all around pleasant time but it's time to go.  He has a snaggle tooth.

You reach for your coat and say,

"I really can't stay
He responds:  (but baby it's cold outside)

I've got to go away
(but baby it's cold outside)

This evening has been
(been hoping that you'd drop in)

So very nice
(i'll hold your hands, they're just like ice)  (An unwanted advance at this point)

My mother will start worry
(beautiful whats your hurry)

My father will be pacing the floor
(listen to the fireplace roar)

So really i'd better scurry
(beautiful please don't hurry)

but maybe just a half a drink more (bad choice, bad, bad, bad choice)
(put some records on while i pour)

the neighbors might faint
(baby it's bad out there)

say what's in this drink  (lady, two words: Date. Rape)
(no cabs to be had out there) (my trunk is available for transport however...)

i wish i knew how
(your eyes are like starlight now)

to break this spell
(i'll take your hat, your hair looks swell)

i ought to say "no, no, no sir" (now you're getting the picture, sister...)
(mind if i move in closer) (he's not getting the picture... knee him)

at least i'm gonna say that i tried (say what?)
(what's the sense in hurtin' my pride) (hurt more than his pride...)

i simply must go
(but baby it's cold outside)

so nice and warm
(look out the window at that storm)

my sister will be suspicious
(gosh your lips look delicious) (Oh, dear)

my brother will be there at the door
(waves upon the tropical shore) (Think Natalie Holloway)

i've gotta get home
(but baby you'd freeze out there)

say lend me a coat
(it's up to your knees out there)

you've really been grand
(i thrill when you touch my hand) (Again, unwanted contact.  However, the drink has kicked in by now. What snaggle tooth?)

but don't you see?
(how can you do this thing to me?) (The Guilt Trip.  Women fall prey to it all the time.)

there's bound to be talk tomorrow
(think of my lifelong sorrow) (See Guilt Trip)

at least there will be plenty implied
(if you got pneumonia and died) (His cover-up)

Sorry to ruin this Christmas classic. These are just the thoughts that run through my head.

Merry Snow Day!

It's Friday, Folks.

Some photos for my faithful few.  This made me LOL.  And I never write "LOL" unless the situation warrants it.   Silly truck. 

And here we have Charlotte.  Charlotte, unlike our other feathered acquaintances, has no fear.  She will boss the horse, the sheep, the dog, the other ducks, probably the cattle if she could get close enough and for certain, she will boss you.   I hope you aren't thin skinned because she will cut you down.  I don't appreciate it but what can I do?  What can I do?  

Perhaps get a life and stop dialoging with animals you say?   

Homecoming

I turned older last Sunday and I expect that I will next year too.  That seems to be the trend these days.  But where has the past 10 years gone?   Sheesh.  Between waking up and going about our daily routines and then falling asleep watching any number of reality shows on cable television, what really separates one day from the next?  It all becomes squashed.  Life becomes a uniboob of memories. 

On my next birthday, I'll be turning th...th....thhiii.....thiiiiirt.....thirteeeeeeeeeeee-----n. Yes, thirteen, folks.  You thought I would be turning 30 because that's what happens when you subtract my birth year from 2012.  And that’s ridiculous.  

However, I wouldn't want to go back to being 13.  Most of you have seen pictures of me in Jr. High.  Sweet. Merciful. Savior.  

Last weekend had me driving to Ohio for an old high school friends baby shower.  She's as cute as a button. Her husband wants to name their son "Lucky" which makes Sarah very upset.  How wonderful it was to see these old friends in their current capacities as mothers, wives, and teeth-cleaning technicians.  Each of them has enriched my life simply by being in it with their lovely and hilarious selves.

I also visited the town where I spent part of my early childhood.  Going back to my roots was like greeting an old friend.  I had this intense urge to re-introduce myself in case they had forgotten what 23 years could do to a person.  No more potbelly, glasses and pigtails.  They scarcely recognized me.

While driving down Bradley Street at a fast enough clip that I wouldn’t creep out the neighbors, yet slow enough to trigger a flood of nostalgia, I realized that childhood has a way of distorting reality.  Houses, trees, streets, front porches all are smaller then what you remember. The world is just a grander place when taken in from a tiny set of eyes.  

Everything made me think of mom.  She colored my little world, even then.

Driving away and catching a glimpse of my childhood past growing smaller in the distance, I felt a keen sense of gratitude for the life I had been given and for my life now that is completely sustained and propelled by a similar tenor of grace.

 

What the heck I've been up to besides not blogging...

July had me running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Or, in the case of our unfortunate farm animals, like a duck with my neck sawed to shreds.  By an gigantic owl.  Anyway, it doesn't even apply because ducks just plop over dead when their heads get severed off.  Ours don't run for anything.  Ever.

Bad example.

So, work has been keeping me knuckle dragging honest and quite busy.  Other than actually being quasi-productive at work (sans today, of course), I have managed to do a few fun things here and there.

Clint came into town for the 4rth of July.  We had us a celebration!  This pictures kills me because dad looks like a mischievous little boy here, no?  Or an Iguana. 

 Here I am taking Clint on a white-knuckle 4-wheeler ride around the property. 

When we arrived at the old Schoolhouse, Clint became very tired and decided to take a nap on a rusty fence.

Totally. Normal.

For no reason really at all, I felt that he should be put in the corner.  Maybe it was repressed memories stemming back from our childhood together or the fact that he sometimes does not return my calls or just because the wind was blowing outside.  It just felt right in my soul.

 Next, Clint gets a refreshing drink from the watering trough. 

We visited an old cemetery down the road and came across some headstones from the early 1500's.  Or maybe they were from the 1600's?  Eh.  What's being off by 100 years when it was a bazillion years ago either way?  

I took many, many more pictures of headstones but I will spare you.  The intricate details were beautiful, though.  Early settlers took dying seriously.   

Here I took in a beautiful florida sunset while celebrating my friends' long awaited nuptials. 

... And here is my friend putting her husband in a Twister Simulator at the local mall.  It was the best $2 investment of her life.

You all come back now, ya hear?