The point is...

Sunday: December 27, 2015 Horses got out this morning. I was on my way to church. A congregation of about 13 people. About 6 appeared this morning. It was very similar to Christmas Eve when only 6 of us attended plus the family of four of our organist. It wasn't the end of the world but I keep wondering - focus on church, or on the farm? That is the question. Well, the farm would be doable except that Dave and I are both feeling like we should be wrapping things up, not trying to turn it into a financial success. Fortunately, we have leased some of the land to 3 farmers who grow produce and support CSAs and sell their wares at various farm markets. They are doing what we thought of doing. We also through of establishing a refuge, rescue center for people and animals. That didn't go quite as planned either. But we're hanging in there. We have the 3 horses; Zeus, and sisters Kentucky Rain and Cherry. Here's what I didn't think about when we brought them to live with us. Kentucky and Cherry came in 2010 and were 7 and 8 years old. Zeus came in 2011 or 12 at age 4. Guess what? Horses live until about 25, 30 years old. I will be 86 in 30 years. Dave will be???? So, even as we enjoy them we have to start thinking about their futures. And then there are the pigs. The pigs. Clare who is our 3000 pound pet. And Cinnamon - also a pet. And Bernie and Lil' Spot who make adorable babies. Who grow up. Who need to be fed. Time to reconsider... time to figure out the next round.

Some more random thoughts for 6/24/14

I arrived home about an hour ago from getting my hair done.  It always looks so nice when Leah is finished.  It NEVER looks as nice as when I work on it myself.  Oh well, that's true for a number of people so it's not like it has to be a big issue.  But I want to look put together and professional.  When one of your foster kids compliments you after a visit to the salon by saying, "Now we don't have to be embarrassed when we go out with you,"  you know it's more than just a bad hair day.  That was a genuine comment made a couple of years ago.  It reminded me of being embarrassed by my mom & dad when I was younger although it was more often the case with mom.  From what I know most of us are embarrassed by our parents but it was usually short lived because I didn't want people laughing about or commenting on my parents.  It made me feel sad.   They were older (38) when I was adopted.  That made them rank (at least in years and experience) ahead of pretty much all my friends' parents.  And yes, Mom was overweight.  It definitely stemmed from emotional stuff that she preferred not to deal with but you can't ignore the issues.  They find ways to make themselves known.  Overeating, mood swings, crying jags.  Of course one can experience these as a result of chemical or biological imbalances and life issues are very complex but ignoring the wound inside is generally going to cost something. Because of Mom's issues around eating and almost everyone we ever knew was on a diet, I am aware that my own self-image has suffered.  I look back at pictures of myself, my younger self and wonder why I was so hard-hearted toward me.  There are the pictures that no one would deny aren't flattering but overall, there were as many nice shots of me as not.  But the inner critic wouldn't let me alone.  I was ugly, I was too heavy, it didn't matter what, I could brush off any compliment in record time. 

Now - in my 50's I am really trying to be a lot kinder to myself.  And I do look good in the stylists' chair.  But not only then. 

Small dog goes after something.  Our dog Pansy, the smallest creature in the house things she is a hunter.  Anything that catches her attention sends her into fits of anticipation as she jumps up and down trying to get my attention.  We had already taken our morning walk, successfully when she started the attention dance trying to get me to take her out again.  I did.  Yes, she runs things.  She headed straight for the line of evergreen trees several hundred feet from the house and became frenzied.  For the life of me, I couldn't see anything but she was onto something.  While trying to separate the tightly knit branches of the tree, I heard a hiss.  That did not sound safe.  I manuevered around - on my knees - in my pajamas mind you, trying to see what was making her crazy.  And then I saw brown fur and dark eyes.  It was a baby woodchuck.  Not a newborn but young enough.  Maybe his mom left him there for protection.  Maybe he got lost and found sanctuary.  At this point, this was as far from sanctuary like as it could get but he hung in there and I quickly pulled her away.  (That heavens  I put her on the leash.)  We went back to the house and had breakfast. 

A number of wood chucks make their home on our property.  Another woodchuck story later.