Green Beans

When I was a little girl, my mother worked a full time job in Salem, about a block from where my grandmother lived on East Riverside Drive.

Each summer, we stayed with Grandma. Mom would drop us off on her way to work, come to see us and eat lunch, and then pick us back up on her way back to Botetourt.

My grandmother did not drive, ever, so we walked everywhere we went.

Each Friday, we walked several blocks to Front Street, meaning my grandmother, her youngest son, Jerry, who is a year younger than I (and born on my first birthday, no less), and my brother, who is three years younger than I. Sometimes Junior, my grandmother's second-to-youngest son, went along. He is four years older than I.

The purpose of the weekly visit was to do hair. Grandma would set and roll Great Aunt Neva's hair. Sometimes she'd put in a permanent. Sometimes we were joined there by Great Aunt Susie, and she would have her hair done, too. Grandma, in turn, would have hair done by one of her sisters.

Always, Aunt Neva had a pot of green beans cooking on the stove. To this day when I smell green beans I also smell hair permanent.

For those who may not know, southern green beans simmer on the stove for HOURS. And I mean, all day.

There must be no crunch left in those suckers before they are considered edible. They are also cooked with fat back or ham, and are best if they are little greasy going down. They must have changed color from vibrant, bright, alive green to dull and dark green, too.

Today as I snapped green beans and prepared to cook them for HOURS (because that is the only way my husband will eat them), I thought of Aunt Neva and how the smell of green beans simmering in the kitchen always reminds me of her.

Aunt Neva never made it past the fourth grade, but she read every single word of The Roanoke Times, including the legals and want ads, every day. She did not miss a single advertisement or any word. I don't recall her ever reading books but she devoured the newspaper.

She was married to Sam Ellis and they had several kids. We called one Scootchie and I have never known his real name. The other was Lionel, who married Darlene, who was my mother's first cousin on her dad's side, so my mother's first cousins ended up marrying each other even though they were not related. Aunt Neva also had a daughter who teaches piano up in Radford, I think. I could be confused on that, though.

I really need to get this part of my family history.

Anyway, one of the children was Sidney. Sidney had epilepsy and he was thought to be mentally retarded. My mother said as a child he was fine but he either had a seizure that left him disabled or they gave him medication that messed him up badly. I never did not know the whole story.

Most of my Aunt Neva's life revolved around Sidney. He required a lot of attention and care and she did not hesitate to give it to him.

I don't know that I could be so selfless.

It's not Friday, but I am cooking green beans and thinking of my great aunt. My grandmother passed away two years ago, yesterday, so I am thinking of her, too.

Isn't it wonderful what food can do?

The Community Yardsale

When the alarm went off Saturday morning at 4:55 a.m., it was all I could do to struggle out of bed. I think I was finished with my shower and mostly dressed before I finally woke up.

The day was already hot when at 6:10 a.m. I pulled into the parking lot at Ikenberry Orchards. Several folks were already there ahead of me.

I hauled my treasures from the car and placed them attractively on the table. My offerings included clothing, a cotton candy machine, books, VHS tapes, small doo-dads, pocket books, a couple of book bags, a digital camera that I dropped and which worked provided you didn't use the zoom, and a combination TV/CD/Radio player.

The humidity must have been about 90 percent. It was unbelievably hot. Thankfully I knew the folks who had set up next to me, and they had been smart enough to bring a big canopy. They shared their shade. If they hadn't, I would have probably been out of there by 10 a.m. instead of 2 p.m. Bless you, Sue and Howard, for being so kind.

Right away I sold a couple of pieces of clothing and a pocket book. I thought that was a good sign for a good day, but as the hours wore on I realized that at best I would pay for lunch and dinner with the earnings from this endeavor.

My husband showed up with an old TV set we needed to get rid of. I sold it for a paltry sum, but as my husband said, "At least I don't have to haul it to Goodwill."

Once you've decided something will go to Goodwill, that means you're willing to give it away. With that in mind, anything for an item is better than nothing at all.

I saw a lot of people there, including the Blue Ridge Gal herself. She had her camera around her neck and showed me an old picture frame she'd purchased from next to nothing.

Jules also dropped by. She is not a blogger but she has lots of websites, including Indulge Tea and Mobility Advisor. Hey Jules, you need a blog, too! She had her dog and daughter in tow and said she was on her way to the SPCA to get another pooch. Awww.

Gwen Ikenberry, whose husband's family owns the place, also was there. She shared her shade with me, too. We have been friends since about 1993, which is a long time in dog years and not so bad in people years, either. I chatted with her mother-in-law, Loretta Ikenberry, for a good while.

Other folks I knew were Donna from Brambleberry Blog, who also is the leader of the Botetourt Farmer's Market. She was there hawking her produce. I also saw Hal Bailey from ECI, and Jay Etzler, the county Commissioner of Revenue, both of whom I have known since second grade. They were selling produce, too. I didn't realize they were such gardeners.

I also saw my (former) editor, Ed McCoy of The Fincastle Herald,* who was shopping around for items for "his" room at his house. Must be a man-cave den or something. We chatted a while and as he was standing there at least two people shouted out to me that they missed my work with the paper. I know that was difficult for him but he didn't say anything. It wasn't his decision to cut back on my work, after all.

Other folks who said howdy were Bobby and Donna Martin, Helen Gregory, Mary Jane from the Town of Troutville, Nancy Waddell and Dot Hillard. I'm sure there were others and I don't mean to leave you out if we chatted and I missed listing you!

My husband sat with me for a couple of hours. He went for lunch around 11:15 a.m., brought it back and ate it with me, and then headed home to cut hay for our neighbor, Lanetta Ware. I roasted in the heat some more, picking up a dollar here and there for various and sundry items.

Finally, the crowd began to thin and I decided it was time to pack the car up. Howard said he was going to Goodwill and would be glad to take whatever I wasn't taking back home with me. I was very grateful for this offer.

I left behind for Goodwill clothing, VHS tapes and books. I brought home with me the cotton candy machine and a couple of book bags.

Home was very inviting. I took a shower and collapsed.

At least the house is a little lighter and the spare room is now clear and I can get into it again.

I am very glad that is over.


*I'd add a link here for the paper but the website for it has been down since early May.

Death Comes Knocking

For many people about my age, that is, young baby boomers and older Generation Xers, Thursday's double whammy of the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson was like a kick in the gut.

Most definitely it was a reminder that childhood is over and the downhill slide toward old age and death is nigh.

I was 13 years old when Charlie's Angels hit the airwaves on ABC. I thought it was the greatest show ever.

Every Wednesday night, when the show came on, I was plastered in front of the TV. I was not there to watch bouncy hair and jiggling boobs but to see three women - three very strong women - kick ass and take names. These ladies really could bring home the bacon and fry up in the pan, and never apologize for any of it.

Fawcett played Jill Monroe, and she was only in the first season (with guest appearances in a later season). The show lost a bit of its power when she left, not that CHeryl Ladd did a bad job. Fawcett's character just made it a little different show, is all.

My first "adult" hair cut was a Farrah cut. I never could get my hair to twirl and flip like hers but it definitely was THE cut for young ladies to have.

Michael Jackson's death is a loss, but he had grown so odd in his later years that I had lost much interest in him. Yet I do recall growing up with him. In particular I remember a TV cartoon show of the Jackson 5 that I watched. I also remember hearing him as a young man on the radio, and wondering if I could ever obtain such fame.

Obviously not.

There is no denying that Thriller made a huge impact on pop music and on the public at large. The album came out a year after I graduated from high school, and I wasn't in college - that was a floundering year for me. I'd been working and had just met my future husband about the time the album was released.

We did dance to it in a few clubs while we were dating but we quickly became an old married couple who didn't do the dance club/bar scene and to be honest the lure of Jackson's greatest release passed me by.

I never owned the record.

Even so, I do realize the genius of the musician and the impact of his music. His legacy will continue as musicians pick up his glove and move forward in a similar vein.

For me, this dual day of deceased means my own mortality is near. It also points out the truth that regardless of money, illnesses cannot be outrun and death comes to us all.

Heavy thoughts on a hot and humid day. It weights me down.

Yardsale!

Tomorrow I will be at Ikenberry Orchards for a community yard sale.

My offerings will include a cotton candy making machine, never opened, a tool bag, never used, men's clothing, XL and size 40 waist pants, women's clothing, XL, hard back and paper back books, and miscellaneous stuff.

Last time I talked with Gwen Ikenberry she said she had about 30 people signed up to sell their things, plus the Botetourt Farmers Market will be going on there, too.

Hope to see you there.

Thursday Thirteen: Botetourt Co.

Today I offer you 13 things to see in Botetourt County.

1. The Botetourt County Courthouse.




Local lore says this courthouse was designed by Thomas Jefferson. This present courthouse was rebuilt in the 1970s after the previous courthouse burned. The vault, housing records dating back to 1770, withstood the intense heat of the fire and the records were preserved.

2. The Botetourt County History Museum. Learn about the county's history and her people.

3. The Civil War Trail. Botetourt County was pillaged during Hunter's Raid. Presently there are historic markers in Buchanan, but there also should be some in Blue Ridge. Maybe one day.

4. Roaring Run. This is a great place for a picnic and a hike. The Roaring Run furnace is the remnant of an old iron furnace where pig iron was made. Nearby is the remains of the Town of Lignite.

5. The Town of Buchanan is a large historic district and has shops and eateries. It is great for strolling and visiting.

6. The Pomegranate in Troutville is an upscale restaurant. It is relatively new but worth a look.

7. The Botetourt Sports Complex, in and of itself, is simply a fancy ball field. But the vistas offer breathtaking looks at the mountain ranges, The Botetourt Center at Greenfield, and some of the better subdivisions. Definitely worth the walk around the track just for the view.


8. The Town of Fincastle has walking tours available. The town bills itself as a Little Williamsburg and it offers brick sidewalks, charming cottages and homes, and a glimpse at a life long past.





9. The Botetourt Wine Trail will take you to the county's three wineries. A great way to relax in a quiet country atmosphere.

10. Jake Cress's woodworking shop in Fincastle offers up a whimsical look at woodworking.

11. Churches. Botetourt County has many old churches, particularly in Fincastle and Buchanan but also around the entire county. In particular, check out the Fincastle Methodist and Presbyterian churches. Some of the oldest churches are in the Blue Ridge area.

12. Scenic Roads. We're blessed with lovely vistas all around. Check out Rts. 43 and 615 in the northern part of the county. Also try Rt. 606 from Fincastle to Craig County, Catawba Road, US 11, and various and sundry turnoffs, almost all of which are sure to delight.

13. Old Trinity School House Quilts. A great place to look if you're into sewing and quilting and such. There's also historic significance to the building.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 99th one.

Coupons

The other day the Roanoke Times had a story about a woman who shops with coupons and spends only $10 for $150 worth of groceries.

Every now and then you hear of women like this (it almost always is a woman) who can somehow turn shopping into a cash-back affair.

This is not me. I do well to save $5 off a grocery trip with coupons.

Normally I don't even bother with coupons but since food prices have jumped and I am stretching dollars it seems prudent.

I seldom have coupons for most of the stuff I buy. Or use. And I don't have the space to store 10 for $10. Or 4 jars of Ragu spaghetti when we only eat spaghetti about once every two months.

Not only that, I always end up with the store clerk who is the coupon policeman. "You already gave me a coupon for that," she says, handing me back my second one.

"But I have two of the items!" I might protest. She'll then look down her nose at me until I put out my hand for the coupon.

I meekly put the coupon back in the little envelope I use for that purpose.

Couponing (is that a word?) takes a lot of time, too. First you have to clip them out. I generally end up standing aside in some poorly-used aisle while I try to sift through all the coupons in my envelope to see if I bought anything that looks remotely like the picture on the rebate.

To do it properly, I have to make a list, then go through the coupons and see if anything on there matches what I need, and then note on the list that I have a coupon and what number and size I should buy.

This is very time consuming.

These days I have more time than sense so I am couponing.

But I will never manage to buy $150 worth of groceries for $10.

Here are some websites that the newspaper article listed:

couponmom.com
coupons.smartsource.com
couponwinner.com
promotionalcodes.com

I haven't looked at any of them. But I plan to, one day.

Fuzzy Wuzzy

Regular readers may remember that about a month ago, I wrote an entry with photos of a mysterious critter that I thought might be a bear.

I'm happy to say that mystery has been solved:





That is a BEAR running through the alfalfa field!

I shot these pictures about 8:45 a.m. this morning (6/22/09. My mother-in-law called me and told me to get my camera and head to the hayfield and so I did.

She called it a cub but I don't think this is a cub. This is a full grown, if small bear.

It ventured across the road while I was shooting pictures so I hopped in the car to make sure I could stop traffic to keep it from getting hit. I felt protective since I am pretty sure my presence is the reason it ran across the street.

It vanished into the woods in front my house and I've not seen it again. I suspect it is still in the woods, though, hunkered down.

The Fear Factor

Last weekend, as Saturday opened up to give us a day without rain (which we have needed, but my goodness!), I headed out to work in the flower bed and the vegetable garden.

The sky was lovely, the air crisp and clean from all the rain. I had little to fear in the way of pollen, anyway.

Our tiny garden is surrounded by fence to keep the deer away. If it were a bigger plot I would gladly share and let them have their due, but in such a small space that means I end up with nothing.

Hence the fence.

The garden is not far from a very large blue spruce tree. And inside the tree a mother bird sat.

She did not appreciate my presence near her nest. She squawked and hopped and carried on as if there was no fence between us. I ignored her and continued with my hoeing and weeding.

But she was terrified that I would do something to her eggs even though I was as non-aggressive as I could be. My presence alone was enough to for an adrenaline rush.

While I worked, I thought about this bird's fear. From my point of view, there was no reason to be afraid of me. But she did not know me.

I was the big U - the UNKNOWN.

Fear of the unknown is what keeps us all from embracing change. We don't know what will happen if things change. Every time the government changes people, we are terrified. Right now the changes President Obama is trying to put forth has scared many people, right and left. (Personally I don't think he's going far enough but no one is asking me.) So you get a lot of squawk squawk squawk from the media and from various sides of the political fences.

All around me, the birds are terrified.

And what about me? What am I afraid of, I wondered as I sat back on my heels, my knees in the mud and my gloves caked with dirt. What are my fears?

My friends say I am fearless and sometimes offer examples. I have gone up in a hot air balloon. I've flown in a bi-plane with a crazy man. I've stood toe-t0-toe with mayors, county administrators, judges and others who would do their best to silence the Fourth Estate.

I quit my 9-to-5 job and went to work for myself.

Maybe when I was younger I was not as fearful, but these days I find fear all around me and in me. The exterior fears of my countrymen seem to have settled on me like a weary dark blanket. Everyone is afraid and their nervousness permeates the air when I am out in public. Sometimes it is stifling, the fear is so thick.

Losing my biggest freelance client has left me fearful that I won't be able to replace that income. Immediately that moves to a fear of being one of those poor ladies who live under the overpass, pushing a shopping cart with all of my worldly goods. This is completely irrational. My husband has a good job!

I also fear being alone. My husband loves me and I have friends, so this is also irrational.

Other fears:

- having some kind of disability that made me a burden
- being unable to take care of myself when I'm old(er)
- dying before I've done whatever it is I was put here on earth to do
- disappointing people
- not living up to my potential
- success
- lack of success

I'm sure there are many others, but these came to mind while I working.

Overcoming fear is not an easy thing to do at all. Sometimes I think we're all just like that bird, squawking at nothing that is going to harm us.

Calming down and understanding that the big hulking giant in the vegetable garden isn't going to hurt us is difficult thing to do.

Thursday Thirteen

Here are some possible new jobs for me, should I decide to go back into the work force and give up on freelance writing as a career.

1. Private investigator. In Virginia, you must be licensed. Apparently this requires 60 hours of training. The Department of Criminal Justice oversees this. Here's an article about it from ehow.com. I like the idea of being a fat Stephanie Plum or Kinsey Millhone. I don't want to cut up bodies like Kay Scarpetta, though.

2. Energy auditor. Since green is the next big thing, I thought I'd look into being somebody who goes in your house and says "hey, use weatherstripping and change out your light bulbs" and you give me $100 for that advice. There are several sites on the Internet that advertise certification for this, and they range in price from $195 to $8,999. According to this site, you need to have a B.A. in engineering and certification from a proper authority. Yikes.

3. Pumpkin grower and seller. Pumpkins are big things in the fall, what with Halloween and pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. I've got some acreage. This seems promising if I can convince my husband to plow up some new ground. Maybe I could grow the world's largest pumpkin. Or at least the county's. Nothing like sweat equity. They need to be planted soon, though. Must start doing the convincing if this is to be a reality.

4. You want fries with that? I was looking at blueridgehelpwanted.com and most of the ads were for service people at fast food industries. I noted a lot of ads for Arby's. They sell roast beef as well as fries. I admire folks who work behind the counter at these places because frankly I don't think I can do it.

5. Join the Army. The other abundant advertising on some of the job sites are for the Armed Forces. Uncle Sam wants ME to sign up. I am afraid of guns plus I am too old, so I don't think so. I'm also fat and out of shape. Definitely not army material.

6. The U.S. Census Bureau. Right now in my area apparently they're hiring for field survey workers. That is not the 2010 census, the site says. I guess it's prep work for that. Anyway, according to an article in The Roanoke Times the other day, people get bitten by dogs and threatened with shotguns whilst performing this work. Sounds very exciting, doesn't it?

7. Web master. I think this has promise. I need to learn HTML and figure out design and shoot, there you go. Just have to put my mind to it, right? Well, no. You might want to have a computer science degree. I have a degree in English. Hmm. Not much going for me there, is it.

8. Distributor. Seems like if I can find a product people want and get the distributorship for it, then I could become the person around here who sells it. I guess this could be like Avon or Longaberger baskets, too. I haven't the faintest idea how to go about this but if you type in "how to be a distributor" lots of stuff comes up so I guess I'd better go read it.

9. Nonprofits. I have a strong interest in this, but haven't seen many job openings. I think working for a grant foundation or historical preservation agency would interest me. No one is hiring right now but maybe later, when that stimulus money starts to work.

10. Government. I would love to work for my county government, but they have a hiring freeze on until the 2010-2011 budget. Unless someone leaves and they replace them I have no way of getting on there. Most of the neighboring localities have the same hiring freeze thing going on. Maybe when the stimulus money actually starts to work.

11. Healthcare. The help-wanted ads offer many choices for nurses, nursing assistants, and bed pan people. Alas, I am not someone for whom health care has ever held much call. I faint at the sight of blood and vomit when someone else does. Maybe something in the administration offices?

12. Genealogist. I would love to do this for people. I love the research and I know my way around the courthouse. I already have most of the published history books and know how to find the ones I don't have. I have done this for one or two people but I haven't yet figured out how to leverage this into some kind of steady career. Not only that, our county is loaded with history and with other people with a similar interest who are already doing this. We're the Seedbed of the Republic, after all. So do I put up a sign, business cards in the courthouse? Hmm.

13. ???? . I'm not going to list a 13th idea, because I'm interested in seeing what other folks might suggest. So what else is out there for an English major with an introverted personality? Any really off-the-wall, quirky ideas?

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 98th one.

Books: Close Kin

Close Kin
By Clare B. Dunkle
Copyright 2004
216 pages

This is a young adult book, the second in the Hollow Kingdom Trilogy. My review of the first book is here.

Emily is the Queen's sister, and it is time for her to wed. Her suitor Seylin, a young elf-goblin, makes his intentions known but she doesn't quite understand that he is asking for her hand in marriage.

Seylin, who is more elf than goblin, decides to leave in search of elves. The goblins think the elves died out a long time ago, thanks to goblin raids, etc. Goblins like elf brides, though.

Emily trots after him, hoping to find him, once she realizes her error.

It sounds rather convoluted and I suppose it is in a short review but this is rather charming. The goblins are mostly ugly and by their moral code they are not bad (though by our moral code they might well be, what with stealing elf and humans to be their brides in their cave home, never to see the light of day again).

I would not recommend starting with this book; the first book seems essential to understanding this world. It had been six months since I read the first book and I had difficulty recalling what was going on in the first several pages of Close Kin. I also would not recommend this for children under 10; there are one or two themes that seem too adult for younger ages.

Overall, a great young adult book and a nice fantasy for older readers.

3 stars

The Graduate (no, not the movie)

Thursday night the family gathered at Ashley Plantation for an evening of celebration.

Our nephew, Emory was headed for college!

His parents and two other sets of parents had rented a room and they threw a party for their sons. The boys had known each other I think since kindergarten. They are very close.

After a teary prayer, we all wolfed out buffet style. I had BBQ.

One of the parents showed a video of the three boys, following them from babyhood to adult hood. Many "awwww" moments, as you can imagine.

Friday night, LBHS had its graduation ceremonies at the Roanoke Civic Center in the coliseum.

My husband was on duty but managed some personal time so he could attend. I had to meet him there.

Parking at the Civic Center is awful. I thought I was early but the traffic and parking was so bad that I was almost late.

Anyway, we found seats with the rest of the family and waited for the graduates to appear.



I snapped the first shots of Emory as he walked out onto the coliseum floor.

The event lasted just over an hour; I had thought it would take longer to graduate 260 kids but apparently not.

Here is Emory receiving his diploma:



Unfortunately because of the space and the lighting, etc., etc., and the fact that I apparently could not take pictures properly that night, my shots of the ceremony are not good. Most of them were so blurred they were unusable. I was using the Nikon D-40 but perhaps should have taken the Canon.

I should stop here and not continue, but I have to say that this was the rowdiest, most undignified graduation ceremony I have ever attended. Let me tell you, as a reporter, I have attended many, many graduation ceremonies and none matched this one.

The administration said nothing about making a lot of noise or holding applause, and so, of course, there was a LOT of noise.

On either side of us people had air horns, which they blasted with great regularity. While many parents were there dressed in their Sunday best, there were other people there in blue jeans. Folks besides us hooted, clapped, yelled and just generally conducted themselves as if they were at a lady mud wrestling match.

At times it was so loud you couldn't even hear the names announced. That was another thing. They didn't give full names. It was "Herb Smith" not Herbert Walter Smith or whatever. And the programs they handed out were done on gray paper with red ink. They are not at all legible to my eyes, and I know that older folks just looked at them and grimaced.

Decorum was sadly lacking. My husband became more and more irritated as the event went on. Afterwards he fumed about the lack of respect showed to the graduates as well as to the older folks attending the ceremony.

At any event, the boy is now a man and he is heading off to University of South Carolina this fall. He will be a trauma surgeon. I am very very proud of him and I love this boy so much it makes my chest hurt. I doubt he knows that but maybe someday he will think back on his old aunt and remember her with fondness.

I know I will always think of him with love.

Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed

Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed
By Philip Hallie
Copyright 1979
303 pages

This nonfiction book examines how it was that during World War II, a small Protestant village in France called Le Chambon defied authorities and worked diligently and openly, in full view of the Vichy government, to save thousands of Jewish children and adults from their doom.

This is a study of ethics couched in a real-life event. The author studies the lives of the main players, particularly Pastor Andre Trocme and his wife and followers, for they were mostly responsible for the good deeds performed during that terrible time.

I could not help but admire the courage of these townsfolks as they followed what they perceived as their calling from God - to love all, regardless, and to save lives, regardless. These were true pacifists, not stoic "I'm against war" pacifists who then move on to something else but truly children of Jesus who followed the New Testament as it they interpreted it. That meant no bloodshed, but instead turning the other cheek and loving and living a moral and ethical life in all aspects.

The text was difficult at times and the author sometimes bogged down in details. As a reader I often felt I was following along with the author as he attempted to understand what drove these people to act as few others did.

Thursday Thirteen: Graduation

The nephew, who graduates from Lord Botetourt High School Friday night. He is going to college to learn to be a trauma surgeon.


1. Dear Graduate, your future is NOW.

2. Move forward and grab life by the tonsils. Since you want to be a trauma surgeon, you should be able to do that! Do not hide behind yesterday's A in history or last week's touchdown in football. Those glories are behind you. Remember them fondly but strive for new grades and new scores.

3. Your education has given you a great foundation, even if you did despise a few of your teachers. Reading, writing and arithmetic really are the building blocks of the world.

4. Your family loves you and will stand behind you always. Your manners are terrific, your smile contagious, and an arm around your uncle makes everyone's chest swell with pride at your thoughtfulness.

5. When you stumble, and you will, stand up, dust off your britches, and get back in there. There's no harm in stepping back to regroup so long as you do move forward.

6. Money can solve a lot of problems, but if in the end all you have are dollar bills, you really don't have much. Take time to cultivate relationships with your friends and family. A dollar bill will never wipe fevered sweat from your brow; someone who loves you always will.

7. Own a dog. Everyone needs a little unconditional love. They also are a great responsibility and a humble reminder of the simple things.

8. Thank your parents for all they have done. They raised you to speak well and to be polite and because of this you will move easily in all arenas of the world.

9. Find your spirituality wherever you need to. whether you follow an established religion or dance naked to your version of a higher power, please remember that the universe is greater than you and there are forces beyond measure working in the world.

10. Read the newspaper. Current events do affect you, whether you realize it or not. Politics play a larger role in everyone's lives than they admit or know. From the taxes you pay to the laws you must obey, the events of the day shape and mold you. Don't ignore them.

11. Have fun. Life is not all work. Make time for reading, watching TV and playing. Schedule it in if you have to.

12. Travel. Nothing broadens the mind and opens eyes like visiting another culture and seeing how other people live. Remember that you have been sheltered in the bosom of your family for 18 years; you have seen little of the hardships and heartaches that most of the world experience. Seeing new vistas and speaking to different people will open your heart in ways that words and pictures cannot.

13. Exercise and take care of your body. You'll need your stamina and your physical abilities for a long time to come, so don't let them go slack. Eat right, even when you're so busy it seems you have no time for dinner. You're the only one who can take care of you so start doing it right now.

Lastly, remember that your aunt and uncle love you with all their hearts. Call us if you need anything. We're always here.

Aunt Anita



Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 98th one.

For Rent

Dreaming of the simple life? Rent this 3 bedroom, two-bath farm house on two acres and make it a reality!

Great room, kitchen, loft, ceramic tile
and laminated hard wood flooring, washer/dryer hookup.

We remodeled the interior in 2007.

Room for garden. Quiet country road. Pastureland, wooded front, no neighbors in view.

No smoking, no inside pets, outside pets cost extra. $800/mo +utilities, $800 deposit, ref., credit check req. Available July 5.

Email me at afirebaugh@gmail.com if interested.

Another Bar Bites the Dust

So yesterday afternoon I stepped outside and noticed a disturbance near my roses.

I found another bar of Irish Spring soap opened.

This bar did not get squashed beneath the lawn mower so I was able to clearly see teeth marks. Whatever is eating this soap ate almost a qarter of the bar and nibbled on it at least twice.

I simply cannot imagine what critter is eating this soap.

There are five bars of soap left unopened so far. Will they also be opened and eaten, I wonder?

Waiting on the Hoveround

Today is my birthday. (That's me on another birthday, a very long time ago.)

Here I am, nicely middle-aged, still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

I am now 10 years younger than my mother was when she died.

Most likely I am more than halfway done. I seriously doubt I live to be 92 although I do have some longitivy in the family that makes this a possibility.

What would I like to do with the rest of my life? This seems a good day to try to answer this question.

1. Write a novel, sell it. Follow up with another, another, another.

2. Make my husband very happy.

3. Add on a sunroom.

4. Finish my masters degree at Hollins University.

5. Take a four week vacation to travel across the United States, from Virginia to California.

6. Attend the weddings of various nephews and my niece.

7. Become a great-great-aunt, several times over.

8. Research my family tree and turn it into a big book.

9. Join the Daughters of the American Revolution (I'm eligible, I just haven't ever figured out the paperwork).

10. Make a difference in somebody's life.

Meet Fred. Or Fredricka. Whatever.

Hey there!

I'm Fred. I live under Anita's shed.



She doesn't know what to make of me as I wander around her backyard. She thinks that the fences around the garden and the grapevines will stop me from eating her goodies, but I know better! One good whiff of a tomato and I'm in there, baby!

When I see her pop out the door with her camera, I scramble like a kid with a bee after her. Run run run! I gotta get outta there.

But I do stop to pose before I scurry down the hole.

They Eat Soap, Too!

A while back, I posted photos of a mother deer and her fawn and noted that I thought she'd been eating my roses.

Lenora over at A Journal of Days left me a comment suggesting that Irish Spring Soap would run the critters away. She said to just leave it out in its box.

I hustled to the Dollar General in Fincastle and purchased a pack of said soap. I placed it around my flowers as instructed.

Not long ago I noticed that one of the boxes was opened and the soap was missing. My husband was outside raking the grass.

"What do you suppose got in the soap?" I asked, curious.

"A deer. The soap is over there," he said, pointing to a spot about 25 feet away. "I ran over it with the mower."

I retrieved the soap, noting that something had taken a nibble out of part of it.

Somewhere there is a fresh and clean deer with the invigorating scent of Irish Spring on her breath.

For the Birds

Gully Washer

1. Yesterday afternoon around 4 p.m. or so, the thunder rolled, the lightning flash, the sky dumped hail and rain, and the wind howled around the house so hard and fast that trees were nearly bent double.


2. It rained in sheets. I braved the lightning and opened the back door to take shots of the rain going sideways.

3.

4. The power and might of a storm is difficult to catch on camera. Unless you can get the jag of a lightning bolt, it is hard to do justice to the ferocity of Mother Nature.


5.

6. The water ran off my hill and down my driveway, sending most of the gravel off the drive. The pasture beside me flooded and became a small river.

7. When it was over, the sun burst forth. So I went I outside to check damage.

8.

9. My neighbor's walnut tree did not survive. I don't know if it blew over or if lightning struck it.

10.

11. This tree was behind my shed, not 100 feet from my house. It is now gone, nothing left but a 12-feet tall stump. I think lightning hit this tree but wouldn't swear to it.

12. The birds sang after the rain, though, like a rainbow of sound.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 97th one.

The Escapee

Generally the cows stay where they are supposed to, inside the fence. They are not inclined to wander and have no need to, anyway. They have lots of water and grass, hay in the winter, and occasionally we feed them bread or donuts. What a life!

Occasionally, though, a young one will decide he wants the greener grass on the other side of the fence.

This morning I glanced out the front window just as a young steer weighing about 350 pounds moved past. He was following the fence in an effort to find his way back to his mother.

Our house sits in a U-shaped lot that has a fence running down both sides of the driveway, sort of like this: c=== . Once an animal gets in that pipeline of driveway, the choice is through the fence, into the road, or in the yard.

I don't care if a calf is in the yard but I do care if they get in the road. For one thing, I could get charged with a misdemeanor for letting the animal stray. For another, a car could hit it.

I raced out the front door and shouted "whooo calf!" at the little steer. He stopped, looked around, and then started toward me.

For a brief moment I thought I might be able to call him over to the other side of the house where the gate is located. But the steer had that look about him, the stance and the eyeballs that said, "One wrong move and I am outta here!"

Apparently I made that move, for he bolted, heading down the fence line toward the driveway and its pipeline to the road.

I ran back into the house and into the garage. I climbed in my car and hit the garage opener.

In the time it took me to do that, the calf was halfway to the road (and we have a very long driveway).

Of course if I moved forward slowly I would push the calf on toward the road myself, which I did not want to do. He was headed that way without my help anyway.

I called my husband on the cell phone, because of course any time a calf gets out and I need help there is absolutely no one around. He was at work and his parents were out of town for the day. "Get me some help!" I told him.

It is difficult to round up a calf by yourself. You have better luck with a whole herd, really. But one scared little calf that just wants Mama can be a handful. He said he'd make some calls.

I sat watching the calf as it moved toward the road. It was getting closer. I had to do something; I couldn't let the thing into the street.

I hit the gas and sped past the little bugger when it moved to the higher side of the driveway against the fence. Then I hit the brakes and turned the wheel so that the car would stop practically sideways.

That way the car would act as a gate while I ran my little escapee back up the way he came.

This I did, shouting, waving my arms, screeching and huffing and puffing (because it was all up hill) the entire time.

Finally he seemed far enough away that I thought I could get the car turned around and chase him the rest of the way up with the vehicle. No such luck. He came barrelling back down the driveway and I turned around and did the whole scenario again.

I thought briefly about standing in the road and asking one of the drivers of the cars whizzing by if they'd give me a hand. Ten years ago I might have done that but not in this day and age. I was afraid I'd get shot or run over.

Finally the calf headed back toward the house, and I turned the car around. As I followed him back up the driveway, beeping my horn at him if he stopped or seemed to want to turn around, I noticed a vehicle coming up behind me.

Our neighbor, who lives about a half block from my driveway (or would if we actually had blocks, which we don't), had heard my shouts and come to investigate. Bless his heart! Bob is a retired police officer who helps one of our neighbors on her farm all the time.

Once the calf was safely in the yard again, I stopped and went back to talk to Bob. He said he would run the calf back around the fence, so I raced through the yard to open the gate.

The calf nearly beat me there, but finally I let the gate swing open and my miscreant waltzed through and headed straight for his mother.

I was sweating. The front of my sneakers were soaked from the wet grass. The bottoms of my jeans were wet, too. I wasn't really dressed for company!

I thanked Bob profusely for his help and we chatted briefly before I went inside to call my husband and tell him the calf was back where he belonged.

And that is why my morning at my computer, which I had expected to start at 9 a.m., isn't starting until nearly noon.

Tuesday Morning

A little after 8 o'clock, I stepped outside to work in my garden.

The sickly sweet smell of a blooming paradise tree greeted my nose as I ventured into the warm morning. Birds sang gaily from their perches and a rabbit, startled by my appearance, vanished around the side of the house.

In the garden, hoe in hand, I whacked at weeds. The hum of machinery made a pleasant background noise. My husband was baling hay; the farms around us were cutting, raking, baling. Hard work all around.

The pleasant morning was broken by a crash. I looked up and leaned on my hoe and closed my eyes.

The timber man has returned. Not on our property, but right next door. The crash was one of the majesties of the forest, falling to her death.

The screech of a chainsaw crashed like a banshee through the morning sounds. My spine shivered.

I wondered briefly if by some miracle the neighbors might be using selective timbering, a type of sustainable forestry that leaves the stronger trees and keeps the forest relatively intact.

Knowing who the neighbors are, I seriously doubt it. These are folks who told me once that they moved down here to make money, to take advantage of these poor southern folks who are land rich and stupid enough to love the land more than the almighty dollar.

So I can't imagine that they are timbering for anything but profit, and that means a clear cut.

I watched a large woodpecker wing her way by me, flying hard and fast, and I wondered if she was fleeing the noise and racket behind her. Maybe she was leaving a nest behind, with little chicks chirping in anguish.

I thought of the deer and the little fawn I photographed the other day, and the bear and turkey that wander through frequently. They all call the forest home, and it will be lost to them.

The United States will fall and be forgotten by God, I think, not because we allow homosexuals to marry or women to have babies or stem cells to be turned into medicine, but because we worship money. We value nothing, not even ourselves, more than the dollar bill.

Jesus did not get tough on the money lenders for nothing, and yet this nation does nothing but worship cash. So it will be no surprise to me when God turns her back on this country and takes her graces elsewhere.

I love the land around me. People do not realize that these forests are not that old. No virgin timber here - prior to the U.S. government's purchase of property that is now National Forest, that land was brutalized and raped for everything she had. The land was scarred and barren of trees. Deep pits of iron mines gouged out the earth.

The land has been allowed to return to her natural state, scars showing. I've been to places in the woods where foundations still exist, where you can see the quarries and pits. Nature finds her way back, and I find comfort in that, even if it what I see falling around me will not recover in my lifetime, or maybe even the next.

Everywhere I turn I see evidence of greed. In the news, in the way our tax dollars are divvied up, or not, in the way the credit card companies charge their mountains of interest. I am not immune, I am human like the rest, and to be human is to be greedy, selfish, self-serving. To be human is to be unable to relate to someone just like you, simply because you do not know them.

To be human is to be alone and to do it all for self. Who cares about the greater good?

Will we ever find a better way?

15 Books

(I swiped this meme from Facebook.)

Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

1984 by George Orwell

Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank

The Women's Room, by Marilyn French

Anne of Green Gables, by L. M. Montgomery

Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte

Bambi, by Felix Salten

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkein

A Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood

Song of Myself, by Walt Whitman (okay, so that's a poem. It's a long poem.)

Satan Says, by Sharon Olds

Rabbit Run, by John Updike

Green Mansions, by William Henry Hudson

The Great Valley, by Mary Johnston

MacBeth, by William Shakespeare

Island of the Blue Dolphins, by Scott O'Dell

Surprise!

My husband turns 50 on June 2, which is Tuesday.

He is working at the firehouse this cycle, which means he is on a 24-hour shift on Saturday, Monday and Wednesday.

He did not want a family and friend party. He asked for nothing special.

I don't think he is very happy about turning 50. The other day he went to Golden Corral while he was on duty and he received a senior citizen's discount. This disturbed him greatly. He even brought me home the receipt to show me!

And when he received his invitation to join AARP I thought I saw little flames come out of his ears.

I wanted to do something special for him, so I called the station one day and spoke to one of his firemen. I told him I wanted to bring a cake by, and he decided they would have a really nice dinner and I was invited.

Getting this set up took more effort than I would have imagined. At the end I wasn't even sure it would go off because my husband was assigned to work this shift as Acting Battalion Chief, which meant he would not even be at Fire Station #3!

However, as Acting Battalion Chief he could decide where he wanted to eat, and his crew told him to come and eat with them. Whew.

I arrived with the cake and ice cream before Acting Battalion Chief Firebaugh got there, so we hid the cake.



My husband told me he wasn't surprised and he knew that I had been cooking up something. Silly me to think I could pull something over on him.





Firemen eat very well when they want! We had grilled chicken breasts, kabobs and cooked pineapple. Yum!




He seemed to like the cake.

But then one of the firemen took a knife to it and cut the ladder off the top of it.



Apparently "real" fire engines don't have ladders on top of them, or something. There is a better picture of it at The Green House, which is the fire station's blog.

His men gave him a gift card to Lowe's, which was very nice of them.

My present for him has not yet arrived but I gave him a picture of it.

I am giving him a New Yorker style leather fire captain's helmet. These are handmade and can be used at work because they meet the right specifications.

All of my husband's gear is city-issued and I wanted him to have one of these. He has coveted one for many years but would not spend the $500 for it.

He seemed pleased.

Here are few pictures of them wrapping things up!







My husband started working with the fire department in February 1983. He is now one of the senior officers and is Captain of Fire House #3. I am very proud of him!

Happy Birthday, my love!

A Busy Day

Today is a busy day, not to mention an early one.

At 6 a.m. I was outside with a water hose and a Miracle Grow feeder. I wanted to get that done so it could dry off a bit before I started weeding.

After spending time at the computer, I will soon be heading back outside for chores. My roses need attention, the weeds need pulled. I think I'm going to transfer the marigolds out of the whisky barrel so those unknown mum-things won't choke them out.

Busy busy busy!

Tonight I am doing something special for my husband, who turns 50 on June 2. I'll write about that tomorrow! (No, not THAT!)

The Joy of Friends

I don't often write about my friends, mostly because I try to respect everyone's privacy. But today I think I will talk about some of these lovely women!

Yesterday I lunched with my friend B., who told me about her plans for a new home.

Building is so much fun! Imagine the great time she'll have packing away the house she's lived in for the last 22 years. She'll find stuff she won't remember owning.

Last week The Blue Ridge Gal came out for a visit and we walked the farm. I took her out across the hill and we saw a turkey fly off as we disturbed her. Diane saw the shadow of a deer as it slipped from the field into the woods.

And of course there were cows and cow piles ("Don't cut your foot!" I warned her, which made her laugh).

We took lots of pictures of the farm; it was a good clear day, one of the few we've had this month. Mostly this May it has rained.

Diane is a new friend and I enjoyed spending time with her. Blogging buddies are great!

My friend Jules has been very helpful with my career adventures. She's given me lots of advice and loaned me books on marketing, interviewing, etc. etc. Most importantly she has helped me with my resume, which has been a blessing because I haven't had to have a resume in a very long time.

Jules is a web site guru and she recently expanded into retail sales with indulgetea.com. Check out her store or if you want to learn more about tea, visit learn-about-tea.com.

Yesterday afternoon I spent a few minutes with Cathy, a friend and former coworker, when I ran into her at the library. It was a good gossip session, and I was glad to have some time to just shoot the breeze.

Two weeks ago, my friend Leslie and I went to a book fair, you might remember. We had a wonderful time.

Other ladies who have been supportive of me this past month include Inga, Lisa, Dreama, Anna and Nicole. My aunt, Carolyn, has also been good about listening to me knock ideas around this month.

I am sure I am probably leaving someone out but it is not intentional!

I am so blessed to have these and other ladies in my life. I can't tell you how grateful I am that these gals are around!

Too Cute!

Yesterday I happened to spy a doe and her new fawn in the field in front of the house.







When I came home this afternoon, a deer had eaten all of my roses.

I really think it was the mom, because for the last several years she has eaten them to a nub each time she's had her little one! I know because I have caught her in the act.

Growing Things

Tis the season for growing lovelies!



My roses have aphids but otherwise are doing fine. The rain keeps washing away the bug spray so I guess aphids are something I'll live with this year.



My zinnias are coming up. They are a little spottier than I'd hoped.



Last fall I rescued some plants from Home Depot that they called "mums" only they did not look like any mum I had ever seen.

I thought they would die over the winter but they have taken over this planter. I did not realize they would get so big. I planted a few marigolds in there for color while I watched the "mums" to see what they would do.

So far it looks like all they are going to do is grow leaves. They may be brilliant in the fall, though.

Whatever they do, they won't stay in that planter another year, though I might leave them there this summer.



This is a marigold. I planted a couple rows of them around my flower beds this year. I usually buy annuals but I thought I'd try seeds this time.



This is one of three geraniums that I rescued from the clearance bin at Walmart. They had been marked down to 40 cents.

So goes the growing.

Books: Creatively Self-Employed

Creatively Self-Employed: How Writers and Artists Deal with Career Ups and Downs
By Kristen Fischer
Copyright 2006, 2007
170 pages

Two years ago when this book came out, I purchased it because I am quoted in it on page 78.

Appropriately enough, I appear under the heading "The Procrastination Blues."

Two years later I have now read the book (talk about prophetic, eh?).

The author interviewed about 50 different writers, artists and other folks who are self-employed business persons to learn how to deal with the slow times, the boring times, the lonely times, and all of the other times in between.

The advice boils down to "time heals all wounds." Freelance work comes in fits and starts. If you are a life coach or something like that, clients come and go in spurts. If you make pocket books and travel the craft circuit, some years folks buy and some years they don't.

If you're a writer, the stories might flow but getting them purchased is something else again.

Dealing with all of that from the financial end as well as the emotional end can take the form of little activity, lots of activity, whining or gritting your teeth to move forward. In other words, as many ways as there are people.

Aside from the "time heals" message, the other thing I took from this self-published effort is not to give up, and to go with the flow, and to remember that I am not alone even if it feels like it.

I can quickly count up the number of folks I know who are in the freelance business, only they don't call themselves that. One is a marketer and a website guru, another is an interior decorator. Another is a woodcutter. And another puts in septic tanks (though I am pretty sure no one ever calls a septic tank installer or other kind of contractor a freelancer, though in essence they are). They all depend on their own efforts and a little luck to keep the money rolling in and their career moving forward.

Actually I have been quite fortunate in that (a) I was satisfied to be a one-woman article-churner for only a few companies and (b) that it lasted as long as it did. For me to only now experience my first real downturn in my work load in 13 years is really kind of mind boggling in the grand scheme of things.

This was a good book for me to read at this point in my life. Another thing it offers is a list of websites and resources, which I will eventually track down and review.

A website with the author's blog and other information, including the aforementioned resources, can be found here.

The Words That Define

On Friday, my massage therapist and I discussed my career situation and she suggested maybe I just needed to take time.

"You've been always doing doing doing for as long as I've known you," Karen said. "Maybe now it's time for you to start being."

Just "being" has always been a difficult task for me. I was raised to work. I've been cleaning house since I was able to walk. My mother had me dusting and washing dishes before I was four years old. I grew up on a farm and that meant feeding chickens, fostering calves by bottle-feeding, helping my parents get up hay, watching my younger brother. It meant getting off the bus at 4:15 p.m. when I was 10 years old and entering an empty house with my 7-year-old brother in tow, then gathering firewood, starting a fire, fixing a prepackaged dinner so it would be ready when my parents came home, and doing my homework without being told because if I didn't there were consequences.

It meant getting a job when I was 14 and working every summer except the year I was 17, when I did not work though I can't remember why. Maybe I couldn't find a job.

And then I married and I worked at jobs and tried to put myself through school. I quit the 9-5 life in 1994 to try freelancing and I was successful at that until a month ago. And that's my own fault for allowing myself to slip into the comfort of having all my eggs in one basket and not diversifying, really.

So I have always worked.

I have defined myself as writer, reporter, news person, secretary, student.

We are all daughters, sons, friends, lovers, husbands, wives. They are the labels that immediately give someone else an anchor, a way to to grab onto another's identity without having to give it much thought. After all, if a grown woman of 45 identifies herself to a stranger as "Anita, Glenda's daughter" doesn't that say as much as saying, "Anita, I'm a writer"?

Since I am redefining myself I wonder if I need new words.

I know I will always be a wife, daughter, friend. But I am more than those things.

I am a writer, with all the baggage that comes with that. A writer is a thinker, contemplative, artistic, imaginative, reader, word lover, inquisitive, etc.

Those words also define me.

Since it is Memorial Day I was thinking this morning that I would rather memorialize and remember words like peacemaker and pacifist than soldier and warmonger. After all, Christ says "Blessed are the peacemakers" in Matthew. But we don't have any days off for peacemakers. I would rather our society be defined as one of peace instead of one of war and anger, but I fear we are very much the latter.

Peacemaker and pacifist are also words that define me. I don't like loud angry voices or blood or gruesome murder. Some might call me a bleeding heart liberal because I don't believe in killing and war. I am okay with that.

I am probably not called a cook in any circle because I don't do that very well. I am a cook with an adjective like "adequate" though I would like to be a chef. It will never happen though because I haven't the patience to learn.

I will never be a mother but I suppose I am a childless woman in some circles. I don't think of myself in those terms very often, probably because it hurts.

My husband calls me his sweetie, and that's a nice thing to be.

I am not a novelist though I would like to be one. I suppose I could call myself one based on the unfinished scripts in the drawer but that seems not to fit - yet.

Nor do I call myself an author, because I have not published a book.

But I do call myself a writer. That one seems to fit.

The Wii Fit calls me "obese" every time I use it and I find that irritating if correct. I know I am overweight.

So now I am redefining myself. I am a first of all a human being.

Maybe that is it. That's all I need, something so basic and so simple.

A human being, full of love and warmth, kindness and compassion, someone who wishes only good for all of the world. A human being who understands that other souls ache and hurt and that the differences of the world are temporary in a lifetime, because eventually we all die.

"Hi, I'm Anita. I'm a human being."

I wonder what the stranger would say if I greeted her with that.

The Ball Game

Tuesday night we headed out to Vinton to watch the eldest nephew play the last baseball game of the season for Lord Botetourt.



Meet Emory. He plays shortstop. He is graduating from high school this year. In the fall he heads to University of South Carolina.

I am very proud.



That's his dad and his brother Chris, who turns 15 on Sunday. Happy Birthday, Chris!

I'm very proud of them, too. Chris will grow up to be the farmer of his generation, from the looks of it.



Despite our cheering, Alleghany beat the socks off of LBHS, and the nephew finished his last game at the high school level. Onward and upward to college!

What is it?

The other day I spied a doe laying in the field in the front.

I grabbed the camera, and about that time the phone rang.



As I stood snapping pictures, I saw something in the background. Since it was my husband on the phone, I explained to him I saw an animal I couldn't identify.




When I downloaded the pictures last night, I blew up the distant critter to see if I could tell what it was.



I'm pretty sure that is a BEAR!

The Unexpected

Hay fields are places that have more than grass.

They also harbor animals.

This week, with the sun shining down and the rains out of the forecast, the husband and his dad are cutting hay.

Animals in the field generally run away, but not always.

Young animals sometimes get caught in the machinery. I have heard tales of baby fawns getting mutilated in mowing machines. They hide in the tall grass and farmers simply can't see them.

Rabbits, groundhogs, etc. also have the same problem. They cower in fright and the machine gets them. The farmer can't see them.

This year a large bird of some kind laid eggs in the hay field.

Several of the eggs were crushed during mowing, but these were not. Of course the mother bird is nowhere to be seen and with her habitat gone she will abandon the nest.

My husband thinks these are wild turkey eggs, and if so that is very sad indeed. We love watching the wild turkey on the farm.

He brought them home to show me and then threw them out. No, we had no thoughts of eating them. Who knows how old those things are?

Sometimes stuff happens on a farm whether you want it to or not.

A Whole New World

When I found out 18 days ago that I would no longer be writing for the newspaper, a job I had coveted since I was 8 years old, I really thought my world had ended.

What would I do? What would happen? How would I pull my weight around the house? Contributing to the monetary account had always been important to me, and something I'd always done.

Thankfully the questions have now begun to dim. I still don't have a solid way to make a dollar but that is slowly losing its importance. I am gaining time and I am beginning to appreciate that. Now I have lots of hours to tend to my home, my yard, my garden. And most importantly, tender moments with my husband, not hurried smooches between interviews and government board meetings.

However, that doesn't mean I need to lose my skills and stop writing. A break is one thing. Stopping is quite another.

So I set today as my day to start ... something. As I write this (the night before, really) I still am not sure what that something will be. A writing project of some kind.

Maybe a new website.

Or a nonfiction book.

A poem. Or two.

Maybe that great American novel.

Or a memoir.

Something.

I have set myself a goal of spending two hours a day on a long-term project of some sort. Hopefully I will wake up with an idea of what that will be and by the time you read this I will be at the computer, working away. Then I will spend another two hours trying to find freelance work.

I won't be telling anyone about my long-term project, though, until I am well into it. I don't want to disappoint.

But do ask me how it's going, okay? Because it is good to know that someone cares if I fill my time with something other than soap operas or a video game.

It's kind of exciting, knowing I am on the cusp of a brand new day.

Spam Poem #2

The Charity Prince offered insight to guide
the possibilities in my private life.
No thanks, said I.
Nobody looks here.
Spice up your senses, earn more per week,
life can be better, the Prince urged.
Just one little click.
Relax and take your time.
This is helpful information.

Breathing life into my intimacy,
I bent my mouth close
to the ear of the supercharged desires
so my hot breath
could convey my message.
The thing I never knew existed, I whispered,
my lips caressing passionately the lobe
of my listener, is that I
am not to blame.


*Every line contains all or part of a subject line in one of the over 2,600 pieces of spam in my spam box.*