Seven birds and, as of this morning, six baby mice. That is the death toll this spring. I can not provide context for this loss because I don’t know how many baby birds were in all of the nests around our house, nor do I know how many mice families call our piece of land home.…
I am normally all about the last minute. Down to the wire, middle of the night, go-time, crunch time. Whatever phrase someone wants to put on it, I’m that girl. Plans start off the same as every other normal organized human being, but somewhere along the way I get lost. I’m susceptible to shiny lights…
I am white. It is the skin I was born in. It’s actually kind of peach and sometimes blotchy in the sun, but in society, I am classified as—white. I’m married to a man with similar skin, and all three of our children are shades of us. We are a white family living on…
I have a big head. It’s something like 7 7/8, which is a ridiculous size for a female. When I was little my mom used to tell me it was because of my big brain. Yeah, she’s always been a glass-half-full kind of mom. I don’t look odd, in fact it looks the size of a normal…
We are painting our house. Well, we aren’t painting it exactly. This really nice guy that bears an uncanny resemblance to the actor that played Shaggy in the Scooby Doo movies is painting our house. This little project is happening in three phases. Back of the house first, middle and front. It should be about a week…
I’ve only posted twice in April, well this is technically post number three. I’m not sure why. I’ve been working on other things, busy with life, wasting time lusting after Idris Elba. I don’t know. Things have taken priority over the laundry room and honestly I haven’t had much to say. Two posts in one…
We have a well at our house. We get our water from the ground. For those of you that I have lost already, don’t think Laura Ingalls gathering with a bucket type of well. Think big electric box thing and a huge tank that fills with water. That water is then pumped into our…
I’m all over the place today. I was going to discuss Kim Kardashian’s boobs and her incessant need to share them, but then it occurred to me that there’s not a whole lot of value in discussing something with such an obvious answer. Self worth is a delicate mystery. I moved on to a post…
She didn’t know what to say. There were really no words, at least none came to mind in the moment. Her soul was torn, bleeding. Disappointment washed over her like a huge unexpected wave destroying an otherwise sunny day. Sure there were a few clouds in the sky. There would always be clouds, but this,…