Monday Musings.

I am so glad that I have practical skills.  I have a heck of a time in winter with my hands, so I go through any number of combinations:  thermal gloves; silk glove liners with thermal gloves; mittens; thermal mittens - you name it, I've tried it.  The best combination seems to be silk glove liners (heavy version) with wool mittens.  So, I just whipped me up some nice, toasty wool mittens!  It also helps, of course, to have an embarrassingly large stash of yarn.



This is my 10th headband/ear warmer.  I'm addicted to cables thanks to Melanie.
It's actually a leaf green and the mittens are bittersweet-ish.  Go figure.

 While I was at it, I also whipped up a nifty little woolen sock for my iPhone.  With an equally nifty little front pocket for its new friend, Bluey.

Bluey is now safe from the Catz.

Wet wool always invokes my childhood in Ohio, right near the southern shore of Lake Erie.  We sure got winters!  We would be swaddled, bundled, wrapped, zipped and buckled into an array of woolen garments (yes, I was a child in the Stone Age before fleece...), then we would catapult out the door and play until we were blue-lipped, our mittens sodden, covering wet, wrinkled fingers - and we would still drag our feet toward home - after the appointed mother on our street gave the "Lunch!" call.  This was usually Mrs. S, as she had a voice that could reach Canada.  I swear we could have stayed out for days in the snow.

As I was schlepping through the slush and muck of our early January thaw yesterday (48 degrees!) trying to find patches of snow in order to pull my hay sled, I was thinking of creating the "Homesteader's Alphabet".  I was actually trying desperately to ignore the incessant clanging of the Guineas...  Here it is:

A is for Animal Husbandry - which you better learn fast
B is for Billy Goats - of which I am glad I ain't got any
C is for Carpentry - a skill which you will develop for better or for worse
D is for Dragging - your sled or your sorry butt out of bed
E is for Energy - you'll need A LOT
F is for Fun - harder to come by than you'd think
G is for Goats - small milking animals that unlatch any gate known to man/woman
H is for Horses - which I wish I had
I is for Ignorant - you may start out that way, but you'll learn fast...
J is for Joy - if this lifestyle doesn't bring it, it's not for you
K is for Kevetching - we don't blame you if you do
L is for Love - I love this lifestyle, no matter what and you better, too!
M is for Manure - learn to love it - you'll be dealing with it 24/7
N is for Numb - as are my fingers as I do chores in winter
O is for Optimism - a necessity in homesteading
P is for Perseverance - you'll need this in a truckload (see O)
Q is for Quiet - Those precious moments when the Guineas are mute
R is for Resilience - Another necessary ingredient (see O and P)
S is for Sleep - which you'll fondly remember
T is for Tired - your normal state of being
U is for Unglamorous - that would be your wardrobe
V is for Vivacity - you may have had it in high school, but 7 years of homesteading will take care of that
W is for Work - 'nuff said
X is for eXcellent food - okay, it's a stretch, but there's nothing like that which you raise yourself
Y is for Yodeling - just checking to see if you made it this far
Z is for Zen - mostly, my life is just that - a rythmn and connection that you can't find in most places.  My little piece of Heaven.  My Little Lucky Farm.

Monday Musings.

Do doctor's offices consciously put you in an examining room to wait instead of the 'waiting' room?  Why call it a 'waiting' room, when you can't even read the first paragraph of that magazine you've been wanting to get your hands on?  Instead, they shuffle you off to a cold, sterile room with NO magazines (or heat) and leave you there for an eternity, clad in the equivalent of a large paper towel, trying to think warm thoughts.  Maybe they figure you'll be less able to complain about the wait through chattering teeth? 

It's amazing how often I function by rote.  Twice, I have turned onto my mountain road without thinking - only to have to turn around and go the safe route.  The mountain road itself is fairly clear, but the road down the mountain is now treacherous - accentuated by a fatal accident on Christmas Eve.  My mind is often elsewhere (home way ahead of the physical me), or I am arguing with the radio.  Time to tape on the seasonal notation to my dashboard:  WINTER!!  I'll tape it right next to my "BREATHE" note.

I may be enjoying winter a little more this year, thanks to Marianne.  I say this, as I gaze at January's Men in Kilts.

Our family is a small one, and it recently got smaller.  My uncle passed away on New Year's Eve.  He had been ill for a long time, so it was a blessing of sorts, I suppose.  Rest in peace, Big Daddy Uncle.  It got me thinking about my cousins and how interesting it was that we are all spread out over the country, with little contact if any.  I adore my aunt, my mother's sister, and have a very fond memory of the one and only time just the two of us spent together:  my uncle was out of town and I was living on my own, I believe in my late 20s.  My aunt invited me over for dinner - lamb chops!  She loved them, but my uncle did not, so this was a special occasion.  We had the best time!  I spent the night and I awoke the next morning to her beautiful, melodic voice telling me to "rise and shine".  She has the kind of voice you should bottle and open when you need comforting.

My other memory involving that side of the family was from way back.  We were all over at their house when we were kids.  While the adults were doing their adult things, the kids were in the family room poking around for something to do.  Not surprisingly, I took charge - although my cousin was older by 15 minutes, I was the bossy one.  My uncle was a golfer, something alien in our family, so I decided to investigate the anatomy of a golf ball.  My cousin (who was reliable and trustworthy from birth, the rat) had a pen knife.  I made him hand it over and I cut off the covering.  Then I proceeded to start unwinding the rubber band ball.  I am sure you can see where this is going.  Never being known for my patience, I took the knife and sliced through the ball.  And hit the pressurized liquid center, which exploded into my eyes.  Which temporarily blinded me.  Which sent all the cousins and my sisters screaming upstairs for reinforcements.  There was much hysteria, except for my uncle, who calmly led me to the sink and rinsed my eyes.  I was soundly punished and, if I remember it correctly, the self-same cousin (my age almost exactly - born on the same day, 15 minutes before me in another state - and there the similarities ended) spent quite a long time gloating.  I believe he always held it against me that I would snap his plastic pants when we were tots just to torment him.

Monday Musings.

My, oh, my.  It's a different world we live in.  I remember a tall, grave (but kindly) bear sporting a park ranger's hat telling me that only I could prevent forest fires.  Now he's all attitude and telling me to Get My Smoky On.  Just what the heck is "my smoky"?  Makes me either want to pull out my paisley velour smoking jacket and light up, or look for leather. 

"As the crow flies."  Do crows fly straighter than other birds?  There is a spot during my commute where I crest the plateau and I can see the city.  If I was a crow, it would be a much shorter commute.  But, then, why would I fly to the city?  The country is much nicer, especially for crows.  And on the subject of birds, this fall there seems to be a bumper crop of Mourning Doves over-nighting in the pines next to the goat barn.  They are so fidgety and easily frightened (sort of like lots of feathered Bernies), that I find myself tiptoeing under the pines on my way to feed the goats, making all kinds of reassuring noises so that they know I am not going to harm them.  Nothing worked until I started singing to them.  They seem to prefer Joni Mitchell.  (Does that make me certifiable?)  I think I am making progress!  Last night there was only some minor cooing and fluttering.   I am very fond of Mourning Doves.  They remind me of fragile bits of Southwestern Indian pottery.

Since a lot of my musing occurs while I commute, we are back on the road.  I realized that, when I come to a bend in the road (and, believe me, there is not a straight bit of road for miles around me!), I tend to accelerate into the turn.  Just a bit.  Not, of course, if it's raining, sleeting, snowing or anything inclement (just in case there is a Driving Instructor reading this with his marking pencil ready to give me demerits...)  This is a habit I picked up from a fellow I used to work for back in the Dark Ages of Advertising in Cleveland.  He had been a professional race car driver in his youth.  We had a client about 50 miles south of Cleveland that we met with on a regular basis and on the way to their offices we passed a race track (not an official one - one with miniature race cars).  On our way back to Cleveland, we would stop at the track and race.  He was extremely competitive and I am no slouch in that department, either.  However, he was better (and my boss....).  I only beat him once and he didn't talk to me for a week.  It was hard, but I let him win from then on.  : /  In another chapter of the DAoAiC,  the ad agency I worked for decided to try some bonding exercises to mend the inevitable rift between the creative and the 'client' sides of the business.  They came up with some odd hybrid of volleyball and slam dancing (my interpretation, but it was played in a room with padding on the walls).  Well, let me tell you, everyone on BOTH sides wanted me on their team.  I was fiercesome!  I made up for lack of size with lots of "attitude".  Besides, I could jump and spike like nobody's business.  I have since calmed down.  Really.  That and a couple of rotator cuff operations.  And I'd need help getting up.  Anyone seen my cane????