tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312147942024-03-06T22:17:58.743-06:00ravings of dkchiRavings and musings and outright wonderings about everything.dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-34674354508456616562015-09-25T15:57:00.000-05:002015-09-25T15:57:35.579-05:00Where in the World is DonnaTwo years since I've written a post here. Wonder why I have very few followers? Hmm.<br />
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My Facebook account is fairly well updated regularly though. I have tons of political and social opinions that find their way into comments on friends pages or articles. And, I started an anonymous blog where I can spew vitriol or cry in my beer and no one who knows me can complain. I have been writing there. Then I only just started it this month.<br />
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I came hear to write about my very own autumn sounds in my confines. I came here because I wanted it to be longer than a Facebook post. Some may wonder how I got from sharing a house with my youngest daughter in 2013 to living in her basement of a completely different house. More than likely, most couldn't care less. Anyway, some already know.<br />
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Anyway, living in the basement, albeit finished, has its challenges. Somewhere there is a cricket chirping fervently, probably wondering where the hell he is. You would think with two cats, they'd quickly discover the location for him, and put a stop to the chirping. Mine are sleeping soundly.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="2" height="300" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CQFEY9RIRJA" width="400" align="left"></iframe>
Normally, I absolutely love cricket chirping - when there's more than one. Only one cricket gets annoying after a while. It's like the old off-the-air alarm on television channels. I don't suppose I should gather more for a nature harmony, huh? My guess is that I should probably find this one and relocate him outside, but that seems like a lot of work. So, for the time being, I have a cricket reminding me in the dimness of my bunker, autumn is upon us. </div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-23807324833339780752013-11-20T16:23:00.000-06:002013-11-20T16:23:11.433-06:00RAVINGS and RAVINGS and RANTING of November 2013<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qmcvF40PTgW3DZVHl6GAGY74ufRn0hH8AVh3ntlHZ-BWniMflLcs4PjARfSesjhpHguEkM_BUQjy2IvGOonNVoWpJ3EnzokCPGKIIPYseGINqE8me7Qp7qVgX4RG2R3M78IjRw/s1600/frustrated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qmcvF40PTgW3DZVHl6GAGY74ufRn0hH8AVh3ntlHZ-BWniMflLcs4PjARfSesjhpHguEkM_BUQjy2IvGOonNVoWpJ3EnzokCPGKIIPYseGINqE8me7Qp7qVgX4RG2R3M78IjRw/s1600/frustrated.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://theunboundedspirit.com/frustration-aggression-hypothesis/" target="_blank">The Unbounded Spirit</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The time between posts is getting shorter. Last one was 7
months between. This is only 6 weeks. Not bad, but certainly not good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The universe has obviously decided that semi-retirement wasn’t
for me yet. I’ve had a windfall of work, and much more on the horizon, with no
help from me. It truly all just fell in my lap. Well, to be honest, the lap ‘was’
empty. I just hope that my body, mind, and spirit are up to the challenges.
Because right now I’m tired. Of course, that may be due to being two hours
early for an hour pre-meeting of a meeting that will last for two hours,
resulting in an actual five hour meeting. Blame Chicago traffic for this
nightmare. The 5 pm meeting is set right in the middle of downtown. Anyone who
has ever driven in Chicago knows that you must be wherever you want to be way
before 5 pm or the only place you’ll actually be is stuck in traffic. Hence,
the two hour wait at Barnes and Nobles in the DePaul Center with a cup of hot pomegranate
tea. I’d love to take it and curl up somewhere but the forces have deemed that
impossible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first workload ahead is the dissolution of my favorite
nonprofit, the Neighborhood Writing Alliance, and my refusal to let it go
without a fight. The community workshops that meet around the city are important
to a lot of people. The Journal of Ordinary Thought publication that results
from these groups is enjoyed, known, and used nationwide. For some of the
writers it is the only vehicle for their voices. For many it is a safe and
welcoming community within communities that are often unsafe and not at all
welcoming. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We are meeting tonight for the official announcement of the
end. Then, spearheaded by me, the current workshop leaders and however many
writers can make it, will meet afterward to begin the outline of a volunteer
writing organization, what that looks like, and what it will entail. It will
entail a lot of work and I’m hoping members will step up to plate. But if not,
there are a few of us who will push forward – and that will be even more work –
important work. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then, both my daughter Kim and son Lenny have jumped in to
help get a burgeoning realty company off the ground. They have a good concept
and I’m excited by it. The plan is buying distressed properties in the city’s
most underserved neighborhoods and rehabbing. The exciting part is that the
rehab is not to then rent or sale at outrageous rates which will gentrify the
neighborhoods. The new rehabs are Section 8, thereby providing quality and safe
homes to those already in the community. They’re also donating vacant land for
community gardens and hoping to partner with community organizations to assist
wherever possible. That’s where I come in – the community and marketing
outreach. Believe me, convincing people that we’re not there to take their
homes away from them is a difficult task. Developers have been making that an
empty promise for years. It’s unfortunate that the only choices are fighting
the developers who are coming in regardless, or taking a chance with companies
like us who want to help. The property is going. The decision is in whose hands
do they want that property to go? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Next, I applied, interviewed, and was accepted in a
substitute teaching position for Orion’s Mind, which is an after-school
alternative teaching program. I have a full day of training Saturday. After
marketing all week, and the NWA meetings, and whatever IT work I have on the
side from current clients. Substitute meaning “on-call.” So, on those days when
I’m sunk in a pan of brownies watching black and white movies, if I get a call
I’ll have to somehow superwoman myself out of it. We’ll see how that works. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">All this happening while I have no real home. This is the
rant – I want to go home. One of my dear friends said, “It’s okay Donna, you’re
just floating right now.” At 57 years old, I don’t want to float. I want to go
home. It ‘seems’ like I will be moving back to the city, into a neighborhood I’m
not crazy about, in a garden apartment which is dangerous for a depressive, in
my daughters building. Sounds like a recipe for disaster but it’s far better
than the situation I’m in now, which doesn’t say a lot for that. Plus, I’m
supposed to be writing for National Novel Writing Month but I have all these
excuses, and on the 20<sup>th</sup> day of the month, maybe 6500 words. Am I a
writer or not? I can’t say anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What I can say is I feel I’m going backwards. Backwards in
my living arrangements, and backwards in my working arrangements, and just backwards.
I wish I would’ve stayed in Georgia, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it? I
can only trust that there is a grand plan that I am blind to right now. There’s
something ahead, something out there, something I’m meant to do that I’m headed
toward. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The reason is…</span></div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-38427315117030996992013-09-09T12:45:00.001-05:002013-09-09T12:48:27.864-05:00Where the Hell Have I Been?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wow, has it actually been 7 months since a blog post? My
goodness dear, sincere apologies to myself for not putting forth the effort to
write. To write anything, even a small stone for the day. Specifically, not
working on the memoir or the novel. I’ve been feeling invisible again, and when
that happens, I disintegrate even to myself. I can see the spark at the end of
this particular tunnel, and with it, comes a slow emergence of self again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what has been happening in these past 7 months? Well,
while I have done my signature hermit routine of watching tons of black and
white movies and eating brownies, I’ve not been at a complete standstill. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve attended enough wrestling matches in sweaty, smelly gymnasiums,
and sat on steel and wooden bleacher seats that my butt was almost flat – for a
time – it has returned just as plumply round, thank you. My grandson, London,
went to state but was out in the second round. It was a big stage for a 7 year
old. His older brother, Lenny, took first in city. Their cousin, Lenny (yeah,
there are a LOT of Lenny’s running around), was traveling all over southeastern
Wisconsin with his high school. It was a lot of travel, hotel rooms, small and
large gyms, and tons of people and kids through the month of April. Then there
was baseball for the grandsons, and of course, now it is football. Sometimes
the games are separated by five minutes and 20 miles. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVAsmXE7_hjoKHkE-05-pCMpLwX1ToToxlM-fYDiw3fe-qv4e2FvsOEeuJnFpbqZoxIB6bWU8hfXggldWh3Ci0rCulWOiAUZVxvdLHJLYR_cSG2LemDmTymSCuou9zqPNodA2hA/s1600/wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVAsmXE7_hjoKHkE-05-pCMpLwX1ToToxlM-fYDiw3fe-qv4e2FvsOEeuJnFpbqZoxIB6bWU8hfXggldWh3Ci0rCulWOiAUZVxvdLHJLYR_cSG2LemDmTymSCuou9zqPNodA2hA/s320/wedding.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Somewhere in there Vanessa got engaged and then there was
wedding planning. In between and around the wedding planning was tension over
the living arrangements that we’d agreed upon before I even left Georgia. Even
though the particulars were different, the outcome is still the same – I have
to go. After the wedding, the tension has diminished some but I still need
desperately to go. I really love having my own space, my solitude, and my own
lifestyle. I’m sure she does as well, so going is mutual.</span></div>
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<iframe align="left" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/SF4hKSyFlmc" width="420"></iframe><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do love being around the grandkids more than anything. <span style="color: #c00000;"> </span>There’s nothing quite like
the feeling of having them run up and hug you the minute they see you. Or, to
have them sigh deeply when they realize it’s Sunday and that means Nana’s Sunday
breakfast, and they’re all gathered around one table. Love it! Getting a phone
call that the oldest grandson was just accepted to my alma mater Columbia
College Chicago, and knowing that it’s a short train ride to go celebrate with
him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe, I’m still regrouping from the move back, accepting
whatever that was – mistake, failure, adventure – and figuring out what’s next.
Updating this blog, moving on to the Georgia memoir, and returning to the
novel. I’m feeling inspired again and that’s a positive sign. So, expect to see more of me.</span></div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-71503982142755430522013-01-12T08:52:00.000-06:002013-01-12T08:52:17.711-06:00Bullying, Guns, and Mass Shootings<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In today’s <a href="http://bigstory.ap.org/article/student-tells-teacher-i-dont-want-shoot-you" target="_blank">Associated Press</a> article about the shooting at
Taft Union High School in California, it suggests the shooter had come for
revenge against those who had bullied him. Bullying is something that has gone
on for centuries. I was bullied in grammar school, and ignored in the early
years of high school. I too, came back for revenge. I went to the grammar
school where some of my tormentors still attended. I went to each and every
high school that housed others. I walked their neighborhoods and waited outside
their homes. I caught them one by one and dished out brutal and vicious street
justice - with only my hands. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can’t say that my teen years, the 60s and early 70s, were
without gun violence. JFK was shot in 1963, RFK and King five years later.
Black Panthers carried rifles and semi-automatics in full view. Yet, when
altercations occurred between average people, it usually resulted in fist
fights. When street gangs met, they came with fists, chains, pipes, or knives.
Any of these weapons could be, and often were fatal, however nothing that resembles
the carnage of today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I, like many, wonder what the difference is in the minds of
kids and young adults today. We grew up with violence in movies - John Wayne,
Clint Eastwood. We grew up with gangsters being glorified on the screen. I absolutely
loved James Cagney. Six-shooters, 45s,
and machine guns. Even our cartoons were violent – Wile E. Coyote, Tom and
Jerry. <i>Rebel Without a Cause</i>, <i>Blackboard Jungle</i>, <i>West Side Story</i>, all movies about teen angst and violence. Yet,
walking away from those movies left us with sadness over the violence rather
than a sense of triumph. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were certainly as much a world at war then as we are now.
The United States has been at war with someone since it came into existence.
Our self-serving nationalism has always been in the forefront. We’ve always been
a “bring it on” and gung-ho society. The suck-it-up and keep going mentality
has been around a long time, probably more so then than now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, what is the difference today? I’ve learned over my 56
years that there is never a simple black and white answer to complex issues.
There are layers, and interlocking, overlapping causes, actions and reactions.
However, the one main difference that glares at me is the loss of human
interaction due to electronics. People sit behind computer screens and call
themselves communicating with the world. Televisions the size of theater
screens project back hours upon hours of blood and guts video games. Our kids
know how to manage any situation virtually, but when it comes to reality, many
are awkward and self-conscious. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Add to the mix that we’ve systematically removed any and all
life-training in losing. Organized sports at the K-8 age teach that everyone is
a winner. We’ve eliminated such games as dodge-ball because kids had to 1)
suffer being not picked, and 2) if not athletic, often got hit in the face.
Life is tough and unfair, and everyone is not a winner, yet we are sending out
children into this reality completely unprepared. Once they reach high school,
where popularity, winning, and cruel, clicky groups have always been, and
continue to be, prevalent, they have no idea how to act or react. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Guns are at the top of the discussion. Were there fewer guns
in circulation when I was growing up? Or were the gun laws stricter? I really
don’t know. What I can say is that I am a gun owner and a hunter. I’m also a slight
conspiracy theorist in that I am leery of the way our government is headed, and
I’d like to be armed when the shit hits the fan. America is the only country
that has not experienced a people’s revolution and I’m afraid we are due. That
said, I’m on the fence about assault weapons. More particularly, I’m concerned
about the lack of gun safety training as a whole. I remember when marksmanship
classes were accredited courses in high school. This is an important component
to accompany the killing video games. Not only is gun safety learned but a true
respect for the machine. When you shoot, you <i>feel</i> the real power, and you <i>see</i>
the total destruction of the target. None of which is experienced sitting on a
sofa pushing buttons that shoot military style weapons, and where targets,
virtual people, get right back up after their blood is splattered on the
screen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As I said, I don’t think there is any straight-forward answer.
I think that we need to take a hard look at our culture, not the one of
violence because that has always been there, rather the culture of isolation. </span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-49930853394413169802013-01-08T18:23:00.001-06:002013-01-08T18:23:34.977-06:00Fascism, Socialism, Communism<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is a true "ravings" post. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sunday, my son, his two boys, Leo and London, and I drove 119
miles to Waunakee, WI for the BWK K-6 Wrestling Tournament. We left at 5 am and
I walked back in the door at 7:30 pm. A very long day, yes, but lots of
incremental moments to record. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Traveling in darkness with the sun rising in the rear view
mirror was far too reminiscent of corporate days, as was traveling in darkness
with the sun setting behind. Too many years filled with missed days. How many
folks still make their living by being absent from their entire lives? A sad
reality of capitalism that I’m sorry I was a part of, and gladly rid of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As we left Kenosha, the rising sun sparkled and blinked off frozen blades of grass, and road side business windows. The further north
we drove, the same sun reflected blindly off mounds of crisp snow atop rolled
bales of hay. Three hours of travel time within the same state transformed the
world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course, there was all the wrestling. You can see 7 year
old London taking first place <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvs0lJCEESE" target="_blank">here</a>. Unfortunately, he wrestled in a completely
different gym than his brother Leo. I stayed, watched, and filmed Leo while
Lenny went with London, so I had to watch the videos just like you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Another thing that struck me was the rampant acne on those
northern boys. Not only the high school kids who were refereeing the matches,
but also the younger ones who wrestled. I don’t know what that means, and I can’t
even speculate. Just seemed strange that it was so severe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, all the things noted above had to be recalled.
There was only one thing that I took away from the whole day, one thing that
stayed with me. The title of this piece and their definitions: Fascism,
socialism, and communism. I was eavesdropping on a conversation between two
fathers sitting next to me; actually, it was difficult not to hear every word.
One father was talking about the super grades his child received besides his superior
sportsmanship. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> “How does a
smart kid tease his little sister? He calls her a fascist, socialist, and
communist.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How does a father deal with this teasing? By proudly translating
the story, obviously. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I highly doubt that a 6<sup>th</sup> grader learned these
words or their meanings in class. My 6<sup>th</sup> grade grandson isn’t. The
other father responded by saying, “And five minutes later: Dad, what’s a fascist,
socialist, and communist?” 1<sup>st</sup> father, laughing: “Yep.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wondered then, I wondered on the ride home, and I wonder
still just how the father explained these words to the “little” sister. With
politicians on both sides, Bush and Obama, having this labels attached to them,
I can only imagine. This is what I took away from my first K-6 wrestling tournament. </span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-41427541751943719582013-01-08T13:12:00.000-06:002013-01-08T13:12:45.488-06:00Old Age or Contentment<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSsYR0XwEXAL7lArWYEPFVb1gqo69NffJpN-Lqosrv4MpWsSvLwZ9pSPZcVXnpBNuFLDEYAhhRQI278XzdlDxxtP55Wm4Dup7hyMHOPxd4uq0kbKw2TPUegQ5HOtOnEqpCbVVag/s1600/kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSsYR0XwEXAL7lArWYEPFVb1gqo69NffJpN-Lqosrv4MpWsSvLwZ9pSPZcVXnpBNuFLDEYAhhRQI278XzdlDxxtP55Wm4Dup7hyMHOPxd4uq0kbKw2TPUegQ5HOtOnEqpCbVVag/s320/kids.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbtHyjL6DsNePgYmhgCRrHXFkgiQHuh75x3GVxsjfEyhgzfh_adkIkF_nWSMv7WUUS2Y_w3F4nP2lCyT4Ry-z4vJEv9V2tzokGGCI6-U1rJ-jPt2rKDYrhOSypeYWewEmjo2P_A/s1600/grandkids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbtHyjL6DsNePgYmhgCRrHXFkgiQHuh75x3GVxsjfEyhgzfh_adkIkF_nWSMv7WUUS2Y_w3F4nP2lCyT4Ry-z4vJEv9V2tzokGGCI6-U1rJ-jPt2rKDYrhOSypeYWewEmjo2P_A/s320/grandkids.jpg" width="315" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If there was a Facebook and blogging twenty years ago, all
of my posts would’ve been about my children. I’m sure you know people like
that. My kid did this, my kid did that, my kid won this or that. That’s parents,
and that’s how it should be, IMHO (an acronym that was in the Kids Beat the
Parents game played New Year’s Day that only I knew, and obviously still use). From
the kids, it goes to the grandkids, and I’ve done my fair share of picture and
video posting of everything from camping with the grandkids to their football
games and wrestling tournaments. Perfect strangers around the globe know my
grandchildren.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, what is it when the majority of updates, posts, and
conversations are about the dog or cat? Is it old age? Is it lack of life? Or
is it relaxed contentment with the kids’ replacement? Hm. Well, I can actually
relate to all three of these scenarios, fortunately or unfortunately, depending
on your viewpoint. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQe4sKNXe0y6pfOM8PBu_83OkQmdUzybxqfhyphenhyphenKfIvHQW4q-Q5G75JjQdQyRrZIf00jfeZMwb0WovwraRD1UeAQbzQJ4omx7QmNjxzM2PUvvzvcj0YpOh2K-ltNp_SNmf0wUpkKVA/s1600/mello.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQe4sKNXe0y6pfOM8PBu_83OkQmdUzybxqfhyphenhyphenKfIvHQW4q-Q5G75JjQdQyRrZIf00jfeZMwb0WovwraRD1UeAQbzQJ4omx7QmNjxzM2PUvvzvcj0YpOh2K-ltNp_SNmf0wUpkKVA/s320/mello.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, the plan for today was to do my blog post from the
middle of bed as usual, create that “<a href="http://dkrighttowrite.blogspot.com/2013/01/2013-writing-goals.html" target="_blank">idea box,</a>” do some cleaning, and work some
more in the basement. That has all been tossed to the wind with a sleepless
night. Not only a sleepless night but one with far too many moments standing
beneath the stars in freezing temps, repeatedly, in and out, up and down and in
and out again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">See, Mello, my dog, the kid replacement, obviously was under
emotional duress when I was in Waunakee, WI watching wrestling for 14.5 hours.
Such duress, that he had diarrhea for a little over 24 hours. Sorry if you
thought this post was going to be about old age and contentment. You’re stuck
with the squirts instead. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It started 10pm on Sunday, the day of my infraction against
his senses. Monday morning I made rice with chicken broth thinking I’d caught
it and all would be well. Sunday night of getting up 3-4 times was a cake-walk
to Monday night when it was every hour on the hour. Thankfully, I have the
fenced yard that I can just let him out the door, but this time, each and every
time, required me to go out and coax him back inside. At one point, he just
dropped on the frozen snow and refused to move until I took him by the collar –
in my housedress and slippers. Lovely moonlight image. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought of just leaving him for the night, after all, he is
part Husky and actually loves the cold. Then, as most worried parents do, I
thought of all the terribly things that could possibly happen, namely that he’d
eventually want to come in, start barking and wake up my daughter. Oh, the
horror, believe me!! So, we continued our dribble dance because really, after a
while, there just isn’t anything left in there to come out. He was just making
the motions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Finally, 6:36am was his last urgent trip. We slept on until
9:30 and I’ve emerged into the sunlight with a barely functioning brain. I
doubt that there will be any business calls, idea box, cleaning, or anything
else today. I may just sit and write. This brings me right back around to
saying I think this proves the whole talking about the cats and dogs all the
time is just pure relaxed contentment with the kids’ replacements. After all,
writing is the goal. </span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-36949743325712237922013-01-04T09:06:00.000-06:002013-01-04T09:06:59.690-06:00Friendship and Blood Pressure<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The whole 1.5 years I lived in the North Georgia Mountains I
had high blood pressure. Since I’d never had high blood pressure previously,
and because Georgia’s medical assistance is nonexistent, I chalked it up to the
elevation. High altitude works mysteriously on a number of things, including
bread making, but that’s another blog post – maybe. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve begun again to see a doctor regularly and have all
those necessary exams such as mammogram and colonoscopy (that lovely cancer is
a trend on the maternal side), working with <a href="http://www.froedtert.com/home.aspx" target="_blank">Froedtert University Hospital</a> here
in Wisconsin. The first visit on December 31<sup>st</sup> was 146/92 – so much
for the altitude theory – so my doctor scheduled blood work and another visit
to recheck on January 3<sup>rd which</sup> read at 130/84. Additionally, in
those three days I lost three pounds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what happened in those three days to change things? On
New Year’s Eve I spent the night lying around with the grandkids eating lots of
processed junk food. On New Year’s Day, the whole family went to Golden Corral
and ate a LOT of food. Then we played board games all day and had ribs and
Italian beef for dinner. If anything, this should have raised both the blood
pressure and the weight. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3Z48xwIwfiXSQfDP822F4waC1JTBF-JtWw3I4Fa6VGYQmS6oeqWItzvo6G3PQ9Ndrbyr3qerqD1T7MxatGcfu1WZIT0cjJ55_UMwhQ1O_JKKDD4iPVEX5RSoykqmEZh8kIOz5w/s1600/MelloApache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3Z48xwIwfiXSQfDP822F4waC1JTBF-JtWw3I4Fa6VGYQmS6oeqWItzvo6G3PQ9Ndrbyr3qerqD1T7MxatGcfu1WZIT0cjJ55_UMwhQ1O_JKKDD4iPVEX5RSoykqmEZh8kIOz5w/s320/MelloApache.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On January 2<sup>nd</sup> I drove my daughter and grandson
home to Chicago and stopped to visit my friend <a href="http://www.jot.org/blog/2013/01/02/the-new-year-enters-on-the-front-porch-with-2011-breaks/" target="_blank">Donna</a> who I’d not seen in quite
a while. We hugged and talked, and oo’ed and ah’ed over Mello and Apache
playing, and hugged and talked some more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The next day, I was in much better health. Friendship is
good medicine. </span></div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-80592058333042041482013-01-02T09:07:00.000-06:002013-01-07T09:07:19.495-06:00Smiling<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tBlzbCwawzNYh_0XVW5tFU7xiuMWcBbTjj8a5J5OjaCg2zMQa2OjOcr29AA60X0KoqGLJ_fwJSQnkLM2jJe9FcEQ86GVOLbXCwEQHmQ5xhyx_ilhqHoY6M-MYOqddLO6fGqcgQ/s1600/Mae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tBlzbCwawzNYh_0XVW5tFU7xiuMWcBbTjj8a5J5OjaCg2zMQa2OjOcr29AA60X0KoqGLJ_fwJSQnkLM2jJe9FcEQ86GVOLbXCwEQHmQ5xhyx_ilhqHoY6M-MYOqddLO6fGqcgQ/s320/Mae.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the first day of 2013 I <a href="http://dkrighttowrite.blogspot.com/2013/01/happy-new-year-2013.html" target="_blank">talked about</a> continuing the
things that have worked in 2012. So, on the first day of 2013, Mae decided to
continue what worked for her in 2012 and gave her a two month rest – she overheated;
and she chose to do so on what has so far been the coldest day of the year. Of
course she did it when the eighteen year old was behind the wheel, and the sun
had set for several hours, making that coldest day of the year even more
frigid. Moreover, she does it when there are doctor appointments looming and
Christmas in January trips to execute. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We had just completed a 60 mile jaunt the day before and she
was perky and peppy. Was it the anticipated trip to the overpopulated Chicago
roads that set her off? Or was it the 40 degree anti-freeze sloshing in the
radiator when the temperature hit 8 yesterday morning? Whatever it was, or is,
she is tempting my “to do more of” list for 2013. More smiles?</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Z-XAVz2J3fUx9FuiaTiISvOMaFjgrkAlBel-szxvlepJLGxQDx6dIcb2leOKTzmZkpmiVx5DehDqZpLVE5JXukcRXYHW50AJEu0JsRTcXBV9b_OY-QApXAiOu-OFyN1WTV1T-A/s1600/smile_BestQuotes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Z-XAVz2J3fUx9FuiaTiISvOMaFjgrkAlBel-szxvlepJLGxQDx6dIcb2leOKTzmZkpmiVx5DehDqZpLVE5JXukcRXYHW50AJEu0JsRTcXBV9b_OY-QApXAiOu-OFyN1WTV1T-A/s320/smile_BestQuotes.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bestquotes4you.com/"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.bestquotes4you.com/</span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, here’s the thing: smiling worked for me in 2012 so it
was noted to continue in 2013, and I damn well will, even if it’s through
gritted teeth. Smile, even if it hurts. Smile, even if they think you’re crazy.
Smile, and the whole world smiles with you. A smile is a curve that sets
everything straight. And the one I like the most: <b>The bat is gone, but the
smile remains.</b> </span></div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-18825956806187231792012-12-24T07:25:00.001-06:002012-12-24T07:25:19.157-06:00Seasons Greetings<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>To all the world who didn't receive my Holiday card</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rYHHOrCBI7x1ja1gHb1u-hInHKrw0guvc5IS1-Us8w3Gydd3uRXCKrkeVgBMcqDXJzp8Foy3bS6yWy_-P4plHWs_Bbu_BRj96rRX-VE4_iWZvcdAJwnpuUlrm4CX12yyi7MJAQ/s1600/2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6rYHHOrCBI7x1ja1gHb1u-hInHKrw0guvc5IS1-Us8w3Gydd3uRXCKrkeVgBMcqDXJzp8Foy3bS6yWy_-P4plHWs_Bbu_BRj96rRX-VE4_iWZvcdAJwnpuUlrm4CX12yyi7MJAQ/s1600/2012.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-66475076370107474712012-10-10T11:29:00.001-05:002012-10-10T11:47:39.268-05:00People Who Need People<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20width=%22420%22%20height=%22315%22%20src=%22http://www.youtube.com/embed/GhOap2Vldaw%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowfullscreen%3E%3C/iframe%3E" target="_blank"><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GhOap2Vldaw" width="420"></iframe></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m just not a people
person. Oh, I like to say that when applying for a job, or in attempting to explain
why I love facilitating writing workshops, but the truth is I really don’t like
people very much. That is easily recognizable, I think, by my demeanor when I’m
in a crowd of folks, which is usually silence. I despise small talk. I’m not very
good at it and I don’t even try. This probably accounts for why I have a very
tiny circle of friends, all of whom know this about me and accept it, whether
they like it or not. I just don’t have much of a personality. Oh, when I was young,
I tried by outside help to acquire a personality, and if I have a few drinks
even now, I can be downright amenable. But, straight, singular me is not the
one people generally think is going to be the life of the party. I’d much
rather spend hours of my life in the pages of a book, toiling in a garden,
creating things with my hands, or watching classic black and white movies with
a plate of brownies for company. It’s the god’s honest truth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve been back to the Chicagoland area from Georgia over a
month now. I’ve gone to one social event, - <a href="http://www.jot.org/" target="_blank">Neighborhood Writing Alliances</a>'s <a href="http://www.jot.org/blog/2012/10/04/f-l-cento/" target="_blank">"Open Gate" Release Reading</a> to see those
people who know who I am. I meant to get to another - <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/286343981474580/" target="_blank">"Photo Requests from Solitary"</a> - and I really tried, but
when the time came around, the thought of mingling, networking, and schmoozing
just made me ill. So, I didn’t go. Instead, I helped my 7-year-old grandson
with his homework and cooked dinner. Here’s the thing though, I could’ve went
and I would’ve been known and welcomed. This is just one of the things I’ve
learned about myself in the last year: I need people when I need people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrUp6WPCzEOPJUFRoRmulBorYS4ncAc-Ptq6l9OEBq_REMvn68_ecUJIKqhZQo8xDc5sUrHCc0NSM4DmcTowI-pMXGM3nIHkL2-sj1ArRpNXldGIXKYVJ2FWDCVlrgE0NUg5jYA/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrUp6WPCzEOPJUFRoRmulBorYS4ncAc-Ptq6l9OEBq_REMvn68_ecUJIKqhZQo8xDc5sUrHCc0NSM4DmcTowI-pMXGM3nIHkL2-sj1ArRpNXldGIXKYVJ2FWDCVlrgE0NUg5jYA/s320/007.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I miss my chickens and Foghorn crowing at dawn. I miss the mountain mist hanging low in the trees reminding me so of an English moor out of a Bronte novel. I miss the rushing, white water Toccoa River. I miss towering mountains, lush woods, and the “silence” of nature surrounding me. Although there is beauty in Kenosha, primarily the eyes, the arms, and the boundless energy of my grandsons, as well as the exasperating lifestyles of my adult children, I dream of a way to have it all. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6TyD_tqoT9PuuKjZo3J16NPhG9AjMExtggodFR2xYpB_sX7pIKDfNOosulvObVtzE2jGl2L9S4GzQr81vnnmkEnk8WMC0CEvK1YDgEP05JugZh5jSEoyd1kFK0FLftcnrXWt8A/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6TyD_tqoT9PuuKjZo3J16NPhG9AjMExtggodFR2xYpB_sX7pIKDfNOosulvObVtzE2jGl2L9S4GzQr81vnnmkEnk8WMC0CEvK1YDgEP05JugZh5jSEoyd1kFK0FLftcnrXWt8A/s320/063.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
Because I need them, and I need those few folks on earth who truly know Donna. I need to be able to say, “Come look at what I built, baked, cooked, come look I what I did,” and to have them share my joy, my hard work, my frustrations, my dreams. And, I need to celebrate or suffer theirs - on my terms, with those who accept and cherish my terms, knowing that I accept and cherish theirs when I’m able, and we’re all perfectly fine with that.</div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, yeah, I’m not a people person but I am a person who
needs people, and so, I <i>am</i> one of the luckiest people in the world. </span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-71285037875813598982012-09-20T12:50:00.001-05:002012-09-20T12:50:37.737-05:00What I Do Best<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8n6JephU1xQLLgmfeEXAaHwywFAu0ERBsg1GOOlNiiq1djXcM1_47vZyvyGKqLyVuAFmLLnR8iG_7_748d6xYz6fYcTXutIaht8oQaUUdIDs6RqL7_HuN7FIAPLCD7-3KAgmRJw/s1600/059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8n6JephU1xQLLgmfeEXAaHwywFAu0ERBsg1GOOlNiiq1djXcM1_47vZyvyGKqLyVuAFmLLnR8iG_7_748d6xYz6fYcTXutIaht8oQaUUdIDs6RqL7_HuN7FIAPLCD7-3KAgmRJw/s320/059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96kMtq4fmy53hQaQ7ufOsNTQBsT9aSlM2-3rzIvlOWo1y0mU3jjzmy5qF7Q91zkzbgP5OY_jVc9kmYRcwt2CARlzFwKVQrtxMugBkeIINznz0m7GqIkd29lCLmDa0cGa4sSmtNg/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96kMtq4fmy53hQaQ7ufOsNTQBsT9aSlM2-3rzIvlOWo1y0mU3jjzmy5qF7Q91zkzbgP5OY_jVc9kmYRcwt2CARlzFwKVQrtxMugBkeIINznz0m7GqIkd29lCLmDa0cGa4sSmtNg/s320/056.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The strawberry and peach preserves, and the applesauce I made earlier in the year didn’t taste quite so good until I shared it with my grandsons, and watched them lick their fingers and hear the “mmmm’s.” </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The homemade cinnamon rolls I made for the eighteen year old when he visited Georgia weren’t near as yummy as when son, daughter, and four other grandsons delighted in icing smeared faces. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The large fire pit dug in the backyard beside a towering stack of firewood remained when I </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">left because a backyard fire isn’t near as much fun as when you share it with four boys who have smores dripping from their fingertips. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A gun-toting, gun-teaching Nana can do the same in Wisconsin as in Georgia. It's better to have the students close, though. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, hearing football stats relayed over telephone wire cannot compare to the heart-flipping joy of </span><a href="http://youtu.be/8XxNK-26YDs" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">seeing the touchdown</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, the tackle, or the hugs after the game. </span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do many things, and I’ve realized I still have the ability to do much more. But, what I do best is be Nana. I’ve also learned that it’s what I love to do most. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even the animals are happier, it seems.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-SWT-RwVy-HLrC7bp6ycOgkaKWv4wL_gOD33B5uI3YXkNKS2iAZgOAnj_Di8kKPSiuSQwYew1ELsL2wGpilAcT8QOhBHgpPRAAmoeMjvkC2lxHnA5iqphT4ckQ7uXwAH0B0DbA/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-SWT-RwVy-HLrC7bp6ycOgkaKWv4wL_gOD33B5uI3YXkNKS2iAZgOAnj_Di8kKPSiuSQwYew1ELsL2wGpilAcT8QOhBHgpPRAAmoeMjvkC2lxHnA5iqphT4ckQ7uXwAH0B0DbA/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-14978059399496940912012-08-24T09:06:00.000-05:002012-08-24T09:06:27.811-05:00A New Adventure<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A
New Adventure – Not Failure<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Turning
the page and riding off to regroup for the next great Kiser adventure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="huge"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;">Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs,
even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who
neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows
not victory nor defeat.</span></i></span><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span class="bodybold"><b><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Theodore Roosevelt</span></b></span><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><br />
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<span class="huge"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I did win some glorious personal triumphs in the last year as
well as learning new things about myself. I traversed unknown highways alone,
stayed with strangers, and met wonderful people. I relocated my entire life’s
belongings across mountainous roads in the dead of night. I built a chicken
coop and raised baby chicks to lay delicious eggs. Tilled and toiled and became
physically strong again. And, I found that this particular mountain is not for
me. I learned that I can accept that and move on without distress. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="huge"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I realized that my grandchildren are an immense part of my life
and without them there is a large hole in my heart. It may have been different
if I’d lived a distance away all along, but having been involved in their lives
from the beginning, I sorely miss the football games and the school programs
and exposing them to cultural activities. I still want to show them a simpler,
more sustainable way of living, and I will somewhere in the future. I’ve a lot
of years left. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="huge"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve learned to research better a living location, that the age of
an area population matters, that a high dropout and pregnancy rate happens for
a reason, and that reason cannot necessarily be excised by one person. That is
probably my biggest lesson, that while one person can make a difference, that
one person cannot change the world alone. It’s a long battle and one must
choose their battles wisely. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="huge"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, time to regroup. Headed back to Kenosha, WI but not backward.
Regain some finances and rethink the next move. Thankfully, I have that
capability. Possibly, substitute teach in Kenosha or drive a school bus,
possibly obtain a CDL and travel the country, returning to see the grandkids
every few weeks. Save those finances to settle closer because I need them, and
needing people is not necessarily a bad thing. While I love solitary living, I’ve
learned it doesn’t require ripping out my heart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="huge"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mistakes are lessons if we learn from them, and I’ve learned a
lot. I will miss the beauty of Appalachia but not near as much as I miss the
beauty of my grandsons. Choose those battles and relish in both victory and
defeat, for then we are never truly defeated.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-48361164780846557822012-08-15T14:15:00.000-05:002012-08-15T14:15:12.835-05:00This Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8Npfl1Hf9HJ_b9VcT8uS334AwlMDzJgDV801MXhLATPMUOazQzxIrklMSwPWtIAlnoIJGzyLxxKrd2G_Z4DE_6X5nltsQwGOY2PaesFsPEw1iMrBGC_-wP4VInZku7PECVQlzg/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8Npfl1Hf9HJ_b9VcT8uS334AwlMDzJgDV801MXhLATPMUOazQzxIrklMSwPWtIAlnoIJGzyLxxKrd2G_Z4DE_6X5nltsQwGOY2PaesFsPEw1iMrBGC_-wP4VInZku7PECVQlzg/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have never felt better about the future than I do since I lost my job. I have never felt more at peace, and sure about direction. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Informing a few of the GED students that tomorrow would be my last day was more traumatic for them that I'd thought, given I was only there a short time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> "That's just not fair, when we finally get someone we can relate to and doesn't talk down to us."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I had made an impression - good. The two girls are planning to take the test next month and are struggling with the reading and writing. One session with the girl who'd spoken had resulted in a "hero" paper that would easily pass the testing - solid writing without extraneous wording, good formatting and structure with ideas flowing and connecting. I gave her my card and told her to call me for tutoring, "We'll work something out on the payment, we'll barter." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is as it should be, and the remainder of my day will be spent in compiling my Georgia trip poetry chapbook for submission. I have a grant proposal to write as a volunteer; I have a few updates and a few phones calls due, but the universe is telling me to pursue the dream. Taking the laptop and the dog onto the deck in the warm summer breeze and following the astute advice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, the chickens have finally started laying, so all is good. </span>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-13680566605750865662012-08-09T20:47:00.001-05:002012-08-11T08:45:50.524-05:00Another Self Emerges<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Self-discovery
never seems to end, especially when you’re open to the possibilities. The past two
years were chock full of challenges. From putting all my “stuff” in storage to
living in my daughters basement, to leaving my cherished cats and striking out
on the road of unknown, to staying with total strangers in strange cities, to
pulling a 6’ trailer through mountain passes at midnight, then getting lost on
an old logging road at 4000’ elevation. Through it all, I learned new things
about my strengths, discarded myths about my weaknesses, and grew spiritually
with each discovery. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today,
another self emerged through disappointment. In the seven years I facilitated
workshops for the <a href="http://www.jot.org/" target="_blank">Neighborhood Writing Alliance</a>, I thrilled at leading folks
into the realization that they had voices, that their words were important and
powerful, and that people wanted to read their stories. Those years brought me
to the idea that I loved teaching. What I learned today was that it isn’t
teaching. I didn’t teach them how to write. I didn’t edit their pieces before
publishing. In fact, many of my edits were edited. The joy was in the leading,
the guidance, the conversation and dialogue that got them to the point of
writing publishable work. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Three weeks of teaching GED reminded me that I am at complete odds with state rules,
regulations, and requirements, all which make no sense. The process leaves
students, and caring teachers, empty. It’s about meeting mandatory hours, and
using books that have no correlation with needs, only scores. There’s no true
rapport building with the individual, only process and procedure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However,
spending an hour with a student discussing how to learn their own process, for
writing or math or reading, was exhilarating as the student asked deeper and
richer questions. Discussing career goals and passions, suggesting possibilities,
actually relating to the human, this is what inspires and fulfills me. So, in losing my job due to illness, I've found another self. Now, to
follow this new path and carve out some type of living is a new challenge. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-86454289774246522722012-07-24T13:06:00.000-05:002012-07-24T13:06:25.118-05:00Self-Appreciation<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m settling nicely into the new job. Registering students
for the chance at a successful future, lesson planning, and directing a student
to what will help most in preparation for the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Educational_Development" target="_blank">GED</a> reading test is energizing.
Waking early or returning home late doesn’t deplete the energy. Realizing and
sharing my talents makes for happy days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Of course, there are several areas that still need
improvement, in my humble opinion. Settling into my country life remains a
learning process. In reading <a href="http://coldantlerfarm.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Cold Antler Farm</a>’s blog this morning, I have hope.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This weekend I will make the effort to stay in my yard
beyond sunset. I will build a fire and sit beneath the stars regardless. I will
make a noble attempt to work through the discomfort of humidity and sweat to
tend the garden, not just piddle around in it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Baby steps and self-appreciation for each accomplishment,
these things support growth and get us to the pinnacle of goals, so more can be set. <span style="background-color: white;">Within this, I may even rekindle the ember of writing.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-58863021745833300002012-07-17T09:14:00.000-05:002012-07-17T09:14:27.945-05:00Commitment Terrors<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Commitment Terrors</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, I begin teaching evening GED classes and assisting
with morning classes. 20 hours weekly. I am terrified. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I must roll out of the bed, dress, and function every Monday
and Wednesday at 6am to teach at
8am, math, reading, and writing to
adults hoping for a better future. I must schedule my Tuesdays and Thursdays to
have all chores and freelance work done, with a time element for food
preparation, by 2pm to face those adults at 3pm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since my semi-retirement, I must admit, time management
eludes me. Today is Tuesday, the zucchini and cucumbers need tying up, the
tomatoes need re-posting, the chicken coop needs cleaning, I have a poetry
chapbook to submit, 3pm is GED registration, and I sit here writing my fears to
cyber space. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2aXyPzj0EA0m3B42xVQRhrm_ZlhsJFfIC9Ln2hHK5apq7djR9D5rTXJCGtAMfKfRvsorb_ClLSYElecM8rlTnUb-j2ZDR7vNpntIbYi55ACg30b4xJofZVWk41DvUSX7TrpqGg/s1600/quartic-equation-roots-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk2aXyPzj0EA0m3B42xVQRhrm_ZlhsJFfIC9Ln2hHK5apq7djR9D5rTXJCGtAMfKfRvsorb_ClLSYElecM8rlTnUb-j2ZDR7vNpntIbYi55ACg30b4xJofZVWk41DvUSX7TrpqGg/s200/quartic-equation-roots-1.png" width="171" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifypQLt3h3OMD7BRbfwUBbXS2DTGEUj5fmUm8s-ZUUVm5ji2bDCudiQBTUjzP1WpUjH7Z_8hBB3Mk4ucPX_ycHCknzJV-zZkeiKSFtHYQcPvTXw733K8Q-dVpl3uo4ouUmwx-0rw/s1600/300px-Linear_Function_Graph.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifypQLt3h3OMD7BRbfwUBbXS2DTGEUj5fmUm8s-ZUUVm5ji2bDCudiQBTUjzP1WpUjH7Z_8hBB3Mk4ucPX_ycHCknzJV-zZkeiKSFtHYQcPvTXw733K8Q-dVpl3uo4ouUmwx-0rw/s200/300px-Linear_Function_Graph.svg.png" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lesson planning for reading and writing, even for social studies and science will be fun. I will enjoy watching the students make progress. Unfortunately, I need a lesson plan to create a lesson plan for math. How in the world will I explain linear and quartic equations? Who will explain them to me first? I’ll not even mention my GRE math scores.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Will they sense my fear? Will they challenge the weakness? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Walked around the mountaintop with Mello</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Among the simple beauty of wildflowers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And the lush growth of nature</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A deep breath and a quiet hello</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Birthed a moment of positive showers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Attempting to calm the minds scattered picture.</span></div>
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<br /></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-15863150933862866872012-06-10T13:11:00.000-05:002012-06-10T13:11:57.345-05:00One Woman Homestead Continues<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh my, the pages have turned from days to weeks into over a
month since I’ve posted. Been busy AND lazy on the One Woman Homestead (OWH). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The most exciting thing that’s happened on top of this
mountain is the return of <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2012/04/another-day-has-begun.html">Mae</a>, running like a little filly, and purring like a tomcat.
When she pulled up, I didn’t know whether to kiss the mechanic or the truck. I
kissed neither, but danced and whooped. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That to-do list from the <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2012/05/pennies-in-my-baggies.html">May 5<sup>th</sup></a> posting has
dwindled, but of course, there’s another. I’ll not bore you but suffice it to
say, there are things still from a year ago. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b>There Are Things<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2006 (so fitting in 2012)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are things</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Zippers hanging</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Buttons missing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Things unseen in clear view</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Weeds overgrown on fences</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That must be tended</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Fences, slacked and holed</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Out of sight but not forgotten</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Things that must be tended</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or they will explode</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rusted, crusted pennies</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Between cushions</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bury us beneath the mass</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Of enormous triviality</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Suffocate the tiny</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cobwebs in the corner</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are things</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ALjTB17SqdMk7pI6-LEQEe6_npIRLDnlUf_-QW-LfD1txqiGXUo3kI35Fi5pO9nN2ISm9FlPZj5m_lWjowXZELdYAXd5NeXMrmHyrXv5L7Vs7-K23MFTzMHTdGTFfCBV61RJMw/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ALjTB17SqdMk7pI6-LEQEe6_npIRLDnlUf_-QW-LfD1txqiGXUo3kI35Fi5pO9nN2ISm9FlPZj5m_lWjowXZELdYAXd5NeXMrmHyrXv5L7Vs7-K23MFTzMHTdGTFfCBV61RJMw/s200/001.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhFibL_Qk1QyqNAVqwFU0rOad2E1hJM1Xwi4nqsqYhE4czLQ5gp5OgYWaMujXpdhbmirKHK51S66derY-dFqedFF87gtcXR-GlcsA1Y4a6TRotumf_Si_bYT2qyijU9gBcy1sSg/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhFibL_Qk1QyqNAVqwFU0rOad2E1hJM1Xwi4nqsqYhE4czLQ5gp5OgYWaMujXpdhbmirKHK51S66derY-dFqedFF87gtcXR-GlcsA1Y4a6TRotumf_Si_bYT2qyijU9gBcy1sSg/s200/001.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">However, there are accomplishments. I stood behind a massive tiller, rumbling in my weak-but-strong-now hands, and turned a weed and dirt yard into a flourishing garden. Watermelon, cantaloupe, pumpkin, corn, runner beans and bush beans, peas, radishes, mustard and turnips, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers-green, yellow, and hot, cucumbers, and okra, surrounded by marigolds. The herb garden isn’t all that I’d hoped but dill, basil, Japanese basil, chamomile, oregano, rosemary, garlic, and Echinacea is all aromatic and delicious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The chickens are huge; alas, I’ve been informed they will
not lay until 9 or 10 months. So be it, the coop is complete, with flower boxes
and plaque. Nesting boxes built and mounted and ready whenever the
little girls are. It’s difficult to name them since most look exactly alike,
however the rooster is Foghorn, the two black girls are Dottie and Dottie
Brown, I have a Tiny, and a Blacktail. That leaves four look-a-likes for the grandsons to
figure out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I decided to lay pine shavings on the floor of the coop to
keep down the odor and the flies because the plastic bags of water hanging on
the back porch are no match for coop-poop flies. Yuck! It makes the cleaning
process a lot simpler also, just rake and scatter more shavings. The chickens
scratch and turn it all into marvelous fertilizer. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZE17CRiaCTzw1JfdxOFpQJoezxuI_G0Dc6cYenZes2AikqSUzdlNKh_G3wmXrOM8wivZ7KwTs17lvvfxoZS0cVAJrW2DbnFu_GE9uJt4QO26zDpia0y6e7xAIh5QP2aJpyHNTcg/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZE17CRiaCTzw1JfdxOFpQJoezxuI_G0Dc6cYenZes2AikqSUzdlNKh_G3wmXrOM8wivZ7KwTs17lvvfxoZS0cVAJrW2DbnFu_GE9uJt4QO26zDpia0y6e7xAIh5QP2aJpyHNTcg/s200/001.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In between the “mans” work, I managed to go strawberry and
peach picking at <a href="http://www.mercier-orchards.com/" target="_blank">Mercier Orchards</a>. DEEE-licious. As you can see, jars of strawberry and peach
preserves. Strawberries in the freezer waiting for the kids, and blueberries
this weekend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Busy also with planning for the <a href="http://fannincountydemocratsga.com/" target="_blank">Fannin County Democrats</a>
float in the <a href="http://theblueridgehighlander.com/calendar/events/index.php?com=detail&eID=1555" target="_blank">Old Timer’s Parade</a> on June 30th, social media and grant writing for Feed Fannin, political campaigns for Fannin County Post 1 Commissioner and the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CooleyForCongress" target="_blank">9th District, GA US Congressional </a>seat. Hope the kids are here
for the parade. Lucky that Mae’s all refreshed because she may be pulling
the float. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnY-b1Es1XTCOj8pyNRcvtDYZj78Ze6FeCJ9kHQH1pVqVMKDghO3HAmMhW6xNSVyUef1Nfxc_-3XnyiiNfn8yER2MaiZAfSwgbDYWM9VHvVEJ3860FL6McW8Cb2mn5TQ876-8SA/s1600/149377719_4f2cc39dd9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnY-b1Es1XTCOj8pyNRcvtDYZj78Ze6FeCJ9kHQH1pVqVMKDghO3HAmMhW6xNSVyUef1Nfxc_-3XnyiiNfn8yER2MaiZAfSwgbDYWM9VHvVEJ3860FL6McW8Cb2mn5TQ876-8SA/s200/149377719_4f2cc39dd9.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcGf63Cm86STPY6P7eHJk0QdBBciqUfDMjnz09thpDX6u-13O-rJkg5D40zWsQe8d0zNQ-_DOV1TNw3stK4fr9u1vTJTyed0aVHO6zG6YTCciEt1q6u9EzJWVZxkcQVOrGab9WQ/s1600/Blue_Ridge_Mountain_Laurel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcGf63Cm86STPY6P7eHJk0QdBBciqUfDMjnz09thpDX6u-13O-rJkg5D40zWsQe8d0zNQ-_DOV1TNw3stK4fr9u1vTJTyed0aVHO6zG6YTCciEt1q6u9EzJWVZxkcQVOrGab9WQ/s200/Blue_Ridge_Mountain_Laurel.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Finances still suck, altho there is 'stuff' on the horizon, but depression kind of slithers away
when surrounded by mountain laurel, honeysuckle, lots of growing life, good new
friends, and hopes to see some of the old. No complaining here down here on
OWH. Least none in this post. </span></div>
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<br /></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-50981633925871310912012-05-05T16:23:00.000-05:002012-05-05T16:23:14.717-05:00Pennies in my Baggies<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It’s been a few weeks from hell on the One-Woman Homestead
(OWN), and to bad Oprah, I’m sticking with OWN. It is what it is!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m dizzy from the circles I’ve been going round. Several
weeks trying to get the tiller running only to find that it’s too small for the
job. Wasted weeks when I could have borrowed one and been done with the
planting by now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have only half of the marigolds planted. More exasperation
than anything. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have the stone walk laid except ran out of stones, so it
only goes half the distance I wanted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Gas grill is cleaned though, and ready to be used as a charcoal
grill since all the burners are missing. I even stained the wood side bars.
Now, just need polyurethane to actually make it look like I did something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Morning glories are planted and doing well. This is about
the only accomplishment I feel can be acknowledged. </span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyGsKlN98zC_jTYYRzX1vPYnv9MBw7vThKpbqJYN4UeZw2f_320OhP0DSoA7jl1tDklcvdsIe158x8' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The chickens are happy free-ranging and have doubled in
size, which only means I have to hurry to build the nesting boxes so I don’t
lose any eggs – ‘coz they’re just about ready to lay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It’s a constant battle with the fling critters – flies,
gnats, little green something or others. I sprayed they entire outside with
lavender and citrus. But in the evening, the cats and dog are jumping
constantly trying to catch whatever. So now, I have baggies of water with
pennies in them hanging from the rafters of the back porch. We’ll try there
first to see if it really works. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yeah, I could use a few pennies from heaven but if the flies
stay away, I’ll be happy with my pennies in baggies. </span></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-46353534667295441622012-04-22T14:06:00.000-05:002012-04-22T14:06:28.141-05:00To-Do Updated<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The to-do list has done me in. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHJG4V3w0hs41Wyj2aJV3p8Y6voZkpnjks5GlU-dWvrNr1rt3c3WDmmYUgvfrFm9cRh5WsQw0UP-6cUywPEnIu_kj9sGQBXt6YyG-UfWN-BnA15vUB5WEPZUWSu6BOrCf4Qbcmw/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHJG4V3w0hs41Wyj2aJV3p8Y6voZkpnjks5GlU-dWvrNr1rt3c3WDmmYUgvfrFm9cRh5WsQw0UP-6cUywPEnIu_kj9sGQBXt6YyG-UfWN-BnA15vUB5WEPZUWSu6BOrCf4Qbcmw/s200/004.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIa8KueLsBNIUCfQbtwaTkm0Mp1rYN4fro4fCSAcn-v4Iyx3MMngof16BG9u9rkssacFOHAyKqLnVLHdO4Afc27yR61mHuSykdqJEZoVajVDpJ83ZTio31MNdKST_FOhttBerIA/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWIa8KueLsBNIUCfQbtwaTkm0Mp1rYN4fro4fCSAcn-v4Iyx3MMngof16BG9u9rkssacFOHAyKqLnVLHdO4Afc27yR61mHuSykdqJEZoVajVDpJ83ZTio31MNdKST_FOhttBerIA/s320/002.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, remember that pile of wood in the backyard? Well,
it’s moved to the fire-pit, ready for the grandboys and smores' campfires. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I burned all scrap wood
from the chicken coop and organized all remaining wood. As you can see below, the driveway area is cleared. Weed-eating is
completed, and wildflowers planted. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iKzOxzu-2nlPJM4yxMpzzMOp16vVnjpebLmL0c3o7mMssZ_3UogKEpjuQj6mBOa0Ma7FK_0JmbaiZ_BftYmDHQtdc3epJXEbwErs_v8OrmAgLBvzB7X3DibwBg2wcsgZ_b5rgA/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iKzOxzu-2nlPJM4yxMpzzMOp16vVnjpebLmL0c3o7mMssZ_3UogKEpjuQj6mBOa0Ma7FK_0JmbaiZ_BftYmDHQtdc3epJXEbwErs_v8OrmAgLBvzB7X3DibwBg2wcsgZ_b5rgA/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That’s all folks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tomorrow, maybe I will till. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, in six days, a list of 12 items is down to 9, which
means it took me an entire week to complete three activities. At this rate, I
‘may’ be ready by next season. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Switch summer/winter clothes (this isn’t really urgent since
I didn’t put all the summer clothes away anyway)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Organize crafts</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Till for morning glories</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Build garden boxes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Till for garden boxes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Clean gas grill</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lay walk</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Plant marigolds</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Spread Diatemaceous Earth</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reminder still: Planters under front porch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh, and I’ve added one that I’d forgotten:</span></div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Fence in chicken</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> run</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, 9 is back up to ten. I'm sure if I really concentrated, I could make it even longer, but isn't Sunday supposed to be a day of rest?</span></div>
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<br /></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-87074747218023874582012-04-14T13:46:00.004-05:002012-04-14T13:51:10.282-05:00The "To Do" List<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'd certainly love to have a "honey-do" list. One would imagine things getting done a lot quicker, however in my past experiences, that isn't necessarily the case. Consequently, I just have the standard "to do" list. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><p>The past few weeks have been physically and emotionally draining, what with the finances for a new truck engine and then building the chicken coop. When I screwed my finger yesterday, I decided to give it all a rest, mostly my body and mind. Nourish my soul a bit by just sitting on this porch on top of the mountain and appreciating. Start fresh next week, which just happens to be tomorrow. </span></p>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><p>So here it is, in no particular order:</span></p>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">switch summer/winter clothes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">organize crafts</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">organize wood</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">weed-eat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">till to plant morning glory plants</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rake for wildflower bed</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">build garden boxes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">till for garden boxes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">clean gas grill</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">lay walk</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">plant marigolds in cement blocks</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">spread Diatenaceous Earth</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*Reminder to put empty planters under front porch - no storage shed</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*Reminder to use to large tupperware totes as garden boxes</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm sure there will be more as I sit here, but that's enough to start, don't you think? Check back often to see how it's going. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You notice how there is nothing on this to-do list about writing. Sad, isn't it?</span></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-55509014024787202212012-04-13T13:18:00.001-05:002012-04-13T13:20:02.484-05:00Listen When The Universe Speaks<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnqv9uKr590m9Oy37L6cyApvVUvcAQ6UcM2JMbiRsbZgiiCz-pD44kPwRuxZ91wgtpW9RDhNbK199aA8nUDVoWFS49-knZwYkwkPrbBAUoMDiPA628H_gCXoykJyL2iO11_sDXQ/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnqv9uKr590m9Oy37L6cyApvVUvcAQ6UcM2JMbiRsbZgiiCz-pD44kPwRuxZ91wgtpW9RDhNbK199aA8nUDVoWFS49-knZwYkwkPrbBAUoMDiPA628H_gCXoykJyL2iO11_sDXQ/s320/014.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It’s been nine days since the last entry when I’d put all
the wall supports on the coop. Nine days of hammering, stapling, screwing,
measuring, sawing, and hammering some more. This morning, eight chickens and
Foghorn went into their new digs. Finally. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have to secure the chicken wire where it overlaps, and
some other cosmetics – folding over sharp wire edges, cutting off screws and
nails that protrude, and then, of course, build the yard. I put the little
feeder in the coop because I’d not finished the feed trough. Luckily, with all
the nature to scratch around in, they have little interest in the feed. Which
is a good thing. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwNQat0c2vkSHMIroiamrxh4hEqRLKWxbDWF_BR_D8r5_Meup06EVkdLyfAmkXpv2TIxxZk-uPU-iU' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’d decided to do nothing more strenuous today than make a
pot of coffee, or open the deck chair. But, as so often happens, we (or I) fail to
acknowledge our limits. I knew I was tired. I knew I was sore. Still, I wanted
to complete my chores, particularly the feeder. After all, it only needed two
sides attached. I should’ve heeded the first sign when the screw gun battery
died, but no, have to be in control of everything. Charged up the battery and
back at it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought I learned long ago that whenever you force the
issue, nothing goes right. Obviously not. All the screws went in crooked and had to be backed out.
Wood splintered. But still, on I went when I should’ve stopped. Well, I’ve
stopped now that I screwed my finger. Sliced a nice chunk right off the side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Again, I had to be hit over the head to listen to the
universe. Heed those signs when she speaks. She knows far better than us.</span></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-4087562687625133252012-04-04T14:42:00.001-05:002012-04-04T14:42:20.907-05:00Chicken Coop Building Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuhBgum2yOcyBcf6pr64P5gosrK5BWILvE2Ig17xz-V0zzd17cjt1EbdXWOdDWaaN4gNvuPNF6JK3jGoK9UDV7VrKf9HsU96oziRWFz3g8jCc34qLD1UbR0osaOXL5Q6HOQv01A/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuhBgum2yOcyBcf6pr64P5gosrK5BWILvE2Ig17xz-V0zzd17cjt1EbdXWOdDWaaN4gNvuPNF6JK3jGoK9UDV7VrKf9HsU96oziRWFz3g8jCc34qLD1UbR0osaOXL5Q6HOQv01A/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It may not look any different to some viewers, and when I detail what I've done, it may not sound like a lot. However, done here on the One Woman Homestead, it was a bit. Two more days, tops, by myself, and Foghorn, Dottie I and Dottie II, and the other girls will finally have their home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, I measured, cut, and installed all supports for the sides, as well as installed one complete side. Four hours with 15 minute breaks on the hour, because, well, I'm 55 and just settling into my new found, labor intensive, health conscious life. I'd say, that's pretty damn good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here's what it looked like before today - for comparison. Can you see the difference?? Please!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNevYY273d2fdih2wu8jVPBAdGIJyWAKVXtba3882OIH3MslptRN3k2pRZTj7cu57E0S_CwmD-zbeJT2VH-rYcyZrbf6-g-FDt5N9IhkvVqlUKDtoUU-ys9ajNWg6XNOq7sWc9w/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNevYY273d2fdih2wu8jVPBAdGIJyWAKVXtba3882OIH3MslptRN3k2pRZTj7cu57E0S_CwmD-zbeJT2VH-rYcyZrbf6-g-FDt5N9IhkvVqlUKDtoUU-ys9ajNWg6XNOq7sWc9w/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What else did I do all day? I bit of work, and a bit of writing: <a href="http://dkrighttowrite.blogspot.com/2012/04/early-morning-moments-aros.html" target="blank">Early Morning Moments - AROS</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">By the end of 2012, I will be in good shape in more ways than one.</span>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-41006277736794473792012-04-03T12:24:00.000-05:002012-04-03T12:24:56.458-05:00One Woman Farm Time Management<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Down here on _____________ isn't really a farm but it's my small
start-up homestead, and believe me, it needs time management far more than a
corporate conference room. Especially when there's a creative process to think
about also. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Early mornings,
back in the day, were for feeding animals, gathering eggs, tending the fields,
repair chores, and doing any cooking/baking necessary for the day. Most often,
those chores were designated women's and men's. Today, there's no such
designation, especially if there's only one -woman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Early mornings are
also prime creating time. Perfect to sit on the deck with a cup of hot java,
listening to birdsong, watching the sun blink its way into the new day,
smelling the fresh dew - all makes for crystalline poetry, imaginative fiction,
and essays of plans and dreams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">By the time
nature's creativity has been devoured, breakfast, which has really become
brunch, is over and cleaned, and the animals tended to, the heat of Grandfather
Sun is high. Cooking, baking, and chores become misery. If reversed, as was
yesterday, the exertion leaves little for the creative process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So it my dilemma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The breeze has
cooled yet the Thunder gods are roaring. Maybe, it's time to pull out the old day
timer and plot this homesteading process. There must be a way for a one woman
farm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-46208808750619208952012-04-03T10:29:00.001-05:002012-04-03T10:34:09.146-05:00Another Day Has Begun<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivofaso1lPTOs8k1JvZ3XU5IcR27K9FUkFgh5X-MyCTYfOORI6_Qr1NtU8CKTjDcBneYeYFvH2G_JcUPGAzJ07RsR74zw-CSdeli-zvjau7w2OAhP0EHEgkp1I5gy3HCGAjXSm3w/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivofaso1lPTOs8k1JvZ3XU5IcR27K9FUkFgh5X-MyCTYfOORI6_Qr1NtU8CKTjDcBneYeYFvH2G_JcUPGAzJ07RsR74zw-CSdeli-zvjau7w2OAhP0EHEgkp1I5gy3HCGAjXSm3w/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Another day has begun here on ______ . What’s your name
suggestion for the homestead? Keep in mind that next year it will be in a
different location within the North Georgia Mountains. I’d love to call it <b>dk’s <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2012/03/first-day-outside.html" target="blank">Green Acres</a></b>,
but that’s too easy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last year in March, I wrote <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2011/03/2011-rambling-decisions.html" target="blank">2011 Rambling Decisions</a>.
Unbeknownst at the time, the third scenario of moving to the mountains would be
the decision. Here I am and the days roll on, getting busier and hotter, with more
disasters and greater blessings daily. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mae, the big 350, V8 (named after <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/show/1598" target="blank">Mae West: “You only liveonce, but if you do it right, once is enough”</a>) I bought for my journey from
Chicago to here, sits on the gravel drive with a blown rod thanks to a mechanic
with a shiny traveling shop but little knowledge. He replaced my leaking
radiator with one fit for a Tonka truck. Thankfully, I found the excellent
mechanic I’d met in June 2011 on that <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2011/06/pictureless-on-brakeless-day.html" target="blank">Pictureless
on a Brakeless Day</a>. He will tow Mae thirty miles, replace the engine with a
used GM Goodwrench that has 33K miles, replace the radiator with one designed
for a V8, and replace all the fluids for $1150, which makes his labor charge
about $250. Huge blessing. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNevYY273d2fdih2wu8jVPBAdGIJyWAKVXtba3882OIH3MslptRN3k2pRZTj7cu57E0S_CwmD-zbeJT2VH-rYcyZrbf6-g-FDt5N9IhkvVqlUKDtoUU-ys9ajNWg6XNOq7sWc9w/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNevYY273d2fdih2wu8jVPBAdGIJyWAKVXtba3882OIH3MslptRN3k2pRZTj7cu57E0S_CwmD-zbeJT2VH-rYcyZrbf6-g-FDt5N9IhkvVqlUKDtoUU-ys9ajNWg6XNOq7sWc9w/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Out of ten hens and one rooster (Foghorn), <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2012/03/thats-one-dead-chick.html" target="blank">I’ve only
lost one</a>. She’s in the freezer awaiting garden planting time where she will
return to the earth and fertilize my veggies. Thanks to new friends, the
chicken coop is just about done. It’s taken three weeks, but you can’t complain
about free labor and even financial donations to the cause. The remainder
belongs to me – sides, chicken wire, door, and fenced yard. I can do that. Probably
though, not all on one day since the weather resembles mid-August instead of
the first week of April. I cut the ½ acre lawn yesterday afternoon and reclined
with a beer the rest of the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sunday, the outside water faucet sprung a leak. I removed
the knob to turn it off by the bolt. Unfortunately, the piping was all so very
old, it broke off completely, spouting 3-4 gallons per minute of water into the
temporary chicken yard, and the driveway. My neighbors and I tried to turn of
the main line to the house, but not only was it sunk 3’ into the yard, it was
surround by mud and slush. We managed to clear away enough to get to the line,
but the valve broke off in our hands. There was nothing to do but shut off the well
water to the whole top of the mountain. Finally, since my V8 was going nowhere,
the owner came with a cap for the faucet. Yesterday, my front yard was a
construction zone as the water main was replaced with new pipes, handle, and
sleeve. It’s still 3’ underground, but attainable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The moth caterpillars have hatched in the millions,
figuratively. The Georgia gnats have never gone away, and while this picture
may send shivers down some spines, it shows my constant battle, which at the
moment, I seem to be winning. That could change. Cutting the grass loosed
another million flying insects. Additional chore added to the list: making it <a href="http://dkchi.blogspot.com/2011/11/first-snow-in-north-georgia.html" target="blank">snow
in the mountains</a> again – soon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So given all that, <a href="http://dkrighttowrite.blogspot.com/" target="blank">the beauty</a>, the strangeness, and
the fact that this ‘spot’ is temporary, what say you to the name? Yes, it’s
another day here on _______ . </span><br />
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</div>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31214794.post-66052197526535293902012-03-30T09:58:00.001-05:002012-03-30T09:58:45.811-05:00That's One Dead Chick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFahyphenhyphenj_pdWqQZMuMcG_ceRExUzQS4jLxBBRckI6__wGUJcM3eA2MEehT5xDkCX55fpxAxfzy5a39ibEa-EmgjTv6BoMspGP-fyXhjNfuGPB6Ws-zp89k_qkhBweIu3ohNWI9qhg/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFahyphenhyphenj_pdWqQZMuMcG_ceRExUzQS4jLxBBRckI6__wGUJcM3eA2MEehT5xDkCX55fpxAxfzy5a39ibEa-EmgjTv6BoMspGP-fyXhjNfuGPB6Ws-zp89k_qkhBweIu3ohNWI9qhg/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Looks like I've lost one of the baby chicks. She was fine all day yesterday outside, fine when I brought her in last night, fine when I fed and watered this morning, but on her back with the others pecking at her when I brought them outside just now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Her little heart is beating slow but one leg is twitching. I've looked on line and to be quite honest, I'm not going through force feeding her and putting a blanket over her, and holding/rocking her like a real baby. Call me heartless, but nature will take its course here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She was the runt of the litter and obviously lost the battle. Sorry and sad, but the other nine and the rooster are healthy, chirping, eating, perching, and fluttering about. If you order chicks online they tell you to be prepared for a certain percentage of loss, and even having purchased them two months old from the feed store, there is a possibility - it is part of life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After checking on line for disposal procedures, I found <a href="http://www.backyardchickens.com/">Backyard Chickens</a>, and in their forum they confirmed my idea of burying it in the garden. I'd planned to plant my cabbages, beets, and peas next week, so I'll wrapped it in plastic, put it in the freezer, and recycle her. As it should be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>dkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242132121373655847noreply@blogger.com2