One Hot Mama

 

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Here I sit, on a hot and humid mid-July morning in rural Ohio. It is already hot as hades, and amazon jungle humid….and our air conditioner is on the fritz.  I am just not made for this weather. I think I must have Scandinavian blood in me. You know, the countries of the north, where it is cooler, and there are snow capped mountains even in the summer, and humidity isn’t as much of a thing.  Yes, I know I lived in east Tennessee for twenty-three years. I understand hot, muggy, summers in the south, but this chick does not “glisten”. I sweat like a horse. There, I said it. I know that is gross, but there is no getting around it. My hair is plastered to my head, I have a very attractive sweat mustache, and if unable to find some cool air soon, will be found deader than a doornail lying in a puddle on the floor. Okay, fine. This might be a slight exaggeration, but……only slight. My dogs and cats tell me to get over myself, I cannot possibly even understand heat until I’m wearing a full fur coat with temps in the 90’s. Yes, for those of you who care to know, I speak fluent canine and feline. What??!! Stop looking , staring, reading (?) at me like that. My husband calls me Dr. Doolittle for a reason. Kidding, people. Really. I am. I am not clinically insane. Yet.

I have an autoimmune disease, that I was diagnosed with when I was just fourteen. This particular “gift” makes me extremely heat sensitive. I told my husband the other day, “When it is cold you can put on socks and crank up the electric blanket to stay warm. In the summer months, when I am caught in the seventh circle of Hell, I am unable to escape”. I suppose I could strap a box fan to me, and just wear it around my neck as an, albeit unusual, fashion statement. I can only strip off so many clothes to cool off, before being arrested. Just sayin’.

I have summer loving friends, who thrive in the heat. I still love them, even though in my mind I’m thinking, “freak of nature” how lucky they are to be able to enjoy the summer months. Fine. Just fine. You enjoy the months of sweat, and frizzy hair (or stick straight hair, however it is you roll), and sunburn, and having to shave your legs because you want to wear shorts. And don’t even get me started on going bathing suit shopping. I don’t care if a woman is skinny as a rail or resembles Jabba the Hutt, or anywhere in between. After a certain age, bathing suits are not a girls best friend. The struggle is real. Sisters, can I get an amen?

So, as I sit here sipping my iced coffee, in front of a box fan going full blast, just know that I am dreaming of October. My month of bliss. Crisp, cool temps. Sweater weather. Hot chocolate. And pumpkin everything. I just have to hang on for what seems an eternity another two and a half months. Lord, help me.

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Mr. Mole

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I read The Wind and the Willows as a child, and because of that I am feeling some guilt over the story I am about to tell you…….

It all started a few days ago. My husband was laying down river rock in our front flower beds. (The reason we have river rock in our flower beds, is a whole other story, but it will suffice to say, we have dogs. Dogs that like to dig. Dogs that like to chew. Dogs that like to dig up entire bushes and carry them, root ball and all, to the four corners of the earth. Dogs that live out the words, UTTER DESTRUCTION.) So anyway, as he is working out front, the dogs figured out that something was under the stone steps that lead up to the porch. That is all it took for the barking and digging to commence. There is no stopping them when they get like this. My husband noticed dirt flying OUT of the hole—and not by the dogs. We had found a couple of good sized turtles and thought that might be what was digging. Then two days ago, when I was walking out to the barn, I saw the end of the flower bed (aka rock bed) was dug up. They were after something again! I gave all the dogs a stern talking to, letting them know that this was not acceptable behavior to allow our front flowerbeds to look like someone had dropped a bomb in our front yard. They sat quietly and listened to me, but the second I turned my back they took off. Dogs are like perpetual toddlers. Just sayin’.

Last night my husband and I were out, it was starting to get dark when we returned home. As we pulled into the driveway, our headlights landed on three dogs standing around something laying in the yard. Living with a pack of dogs out in the sticks, one can never be sure what said object might be. My husband went over to investigate. He said that he thought it was a rat. Just then Mitford (not yet two year old, Collie mix) grabbed it and took off across the yard, then dropped it again. It was big, whatever it was. Now, I had my doubts that it was a rat. I lived in the city for years, and we had rats (not inside!) that would eat dog food. Those rats were the size of opossums. They would stand up on their haunches and stare at me with their beady little eyes, daring me to catch them. I was completely freaked out and usually ran off screaming. Around here, we have field mice that pretty much are the size of my pinkie finger. I still am not friends with rodents, but they are more manageable. I digress……I told my husband I thought it might be a mole, but it was too dark to really tell.

This morning I was ready to head to the barn. I will readily admit I looked like the “What Not To Wear” page in Glamour magazine. My outfit consisted of a pair of paint stained University of Tennessee shorts, an oversized gray t-shirt with a hole in it, and my knee high rubber boots (a country girl’s best friend). Whatever people, don’t judge. Seriously, when one is going to muck a stall, who cares what I look like? Jazz loves me regardless. On the way over to the barn, I decided to investigate last night’s “kill”. I found it in the yard, the dogs all gathered around me, as if to say, “We did this for you. Receive our gift as a token of our undying love and devotion and well, we just like to chase things and catch things, and sometimes kill things.  Sorry. We’re dogs, after all.” (Pant. Pant. Pant. Slobber. Slobber.) It was indeed, a mole. His little mole “hands” stuck up in the air, like he had just finished a “Praise Jesus” chorus. Rest in peace little guy. Your digging days are over. Just then Mitford licked me. With his mole tongue. Sad thing is, that doesn’t even phase me anymore. Whatever. I can wash off when I get back to the house. If, by any chance,  there is some rampant mole disease going around, that I don’t know about, well then, I guess I’m a goner. Now, my husband is going to fix the flower bed, and the holes around the stone steps. Hopefully, this mole doesn’t have an entire mole family mafioso, that will now target our dogs for extinction, to avenge the death of their dear mole father. Or worse yet…..take out their revenge on our flower (um…rock) bed.

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And people think the country life is boring and slow……..they know nothing! #lifecanbescaryoutontheprairie

Llama Love

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The neighbors across the road have llamas. I never knew how much I loved llamas until my family moved here. Our little slice of heaven has a llama field directly across from our house. The llamas often greet me at the mailbox, their ears turned in like fuzzy question marks.On occasion some of the llamas break free from the confines of the fenced in area. Have you ever seen a llama jump a fence? It is not unlike a deer, as far as that goes. Of course, they are taller than a deer, but are about as silly, as neither knows to get out of the road. Standing in the middle of the road is not safe…..if you are a deer, a llama, or a human being for that matter. Move it, my furry friends! Sometimes the llamas will decide the grass really is greener on the other side, and trounce their way to our front yard for a snack. I do not fancy myself  the “lord of the lawn” or “the grass master” (that is my daughter, actually) …..so I don’t really care if they snack on our yard, eh….as long as they are helping to keep the grass down. Besides, it gives the dogs some fun and excitement. Oh, there is also a brand new cria (baby llama). Picture a black and white cotton ball on stick legs. My husband and I got some pictures the other day. His were better than mine. It never fails. Every time I go to take a picture, the subject moves! Then it sort of resembles a blur. Just use your imagination.

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This morning I was sitting at the kitchen counter, scanning through Facebook posts, as I am wont to do, when all of a sudden I heard them. My ears are attuned to all things llama. The boys were fighting! I grabbed my phone and ran out to the front porch. I turned the video on my phone. Of course, my phone does not zoom in well and it was too far out to really do a good job of videoing. Although the picture is not zoomed in, one can really hear the llamas (they are extremely noisy when going at each other!). Young male llamas like to neck wrestle each other. Usually it has to do with dominance and territory. One of the llamas neck wrestled the other to the ground but, wait…….he popped back up, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Just like two teenage boys fighting. During the entire video I am giving “Wild Kingdom” commentary. Great stuff, people. I might have missed my calling in life. Of course, at the end of the video, one can hear my dogs standing beside me panting (I promise it is them, not me), and then I can’t get the video off and so you get to see my feet and part of my front porch before I mercifully end the show. I never claimed to be a videographer, people. (I was going to attempt to download the video because it is only two minutes long. Alas, living out in the sticks, there is no fast download of video. I might post it tomorrow, because it will probably take that long to load!)

I love living in the country! City living might be more convenient, but one can’t see llamas in the city….and that is really sad for you. I, on the other hand, can watch all the llama drama right from my front porch.  #greenacresistheplaceforme #llamalove #llamadrama

Challenge #7, The Best Party Ever

It was a turning point year, the year I turned forty. My husband, kids, and I were celebrating my special day with my mom and my sister and her family. I’ve always enjoyed birthdays with family. My growing up years, as far back as I can remember, was always celebrating birthdays with family. The traditional birthday cake, ice cream, and presents. Is there really any other way to commemorate the completion of another year?

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This particular year, the year I turned forty, was not so unusual, and yet it was. Turning forty was a mile marker, a special birthday, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to be a forty-something.  My husband acted a little anxious, and seemed to be rushing the party along. I was enjoying myself, why make it go any faster? Suddenly everyone was tired, so we said our good-byes and started home. As soon as we got home, my husband suggested me go out for coffee (which was a normal “date” for us). I thought it a little odd that we just got home and he wanted to go back out, but I was clueless. It wasn’t until we were several miles down the interstate that I started to wonder what was going on. He said we are just going for a drive. I questioned, where? He responded “a birthday surprise”. My husband had “kidnapped” me and was whisking me off for a weekend get-away to Asheville, N.C. to start my 40’s off right.

We had so much fun, and it was made even more special because of the effort my husband had made to have the kids taken care of, suitcases already packed and sneakily put into the trunk of the car, and having reserved a beautiful room in a gorgeous location.

That day turned out to be one of my most memorable birthdays….the best party ever.

Peeing In The Wind…Again

I thought I’d share one of my past posts. I think all my east coast family and friends will be able to relate. Even though my family and I missed out on the big snow storm of 2016, we certainly have had our fair share of winter weather over the years!

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Peeing In The Wind (originally posted in February 2011)

This winter storm is something else.I spent most of the night listening to everything we had on the deck being flung down to the other end of the deck. Even our huge, heavy grill. Seriously powerful wind.

This morning my son, K, had to take Lonnie the wonder dog, out to do his morning business. Forget the postman delivering mail in rain, snow, sleet or hail…..what about a dog owner having to get the pooch outside in this weather? K suited up with coat, hat, boots, gloves for the stint outside. Lonnie on the other hand, was totally oblivious to the storm on the other side of the laundry room door. All he knew was that he had to go. Let’s make it snappy, pappy!

The door opened and the cold and wind smacked them both in the face. ( I on the other hand only looked on, snuggled up in my cozy robe.) Now, keep in mind my family and I live in a field. There are no wind breaks. It’s always windy here in rural Ohio, but today the wind is 40-50 mph. It is snowing and there is a thin sheen of ice on everything. Not the best of conditions for walking the dog. I sort of felt sorry for K, but not enough to walk the dog for him.

I briefly saw Lonnie go flying by the window. The poor dog only weighs 19 lbs, so it is a good thing K had him leashed or he might have ended up in Pennsylvania. As it was, he was part dog and part kite.

Poor Lonnie dog. Having to pee in 40 mph winds. Not an easy feat…especially for a 19 lb. dog that is hanging on for dear life.

Lonnie the wonder dog is resilient. He toughed it out. When he re-entered the laundry room, he shook off the cold and snow. He then made his way back to “his” rug in front of the fireplace. It’s all in a days work.

 

So Much To Do!

Some days are better than others. That is just a fact, isn’t it?

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It’s cold, cloudy, and damp

The chicken run, full of muck

When I went to turn

My boot got stuck!

My back is hurting

I can’t stand or sit.

This is bumming my day

I don’t like it one bit!

My to do list

is as long as my arm

So much to do

on our little farm.

I need to decorate

the Christmas tree

untangling lights

this is not for me!

I’ll take a deep breath

and do what I can

the rest can wait …

at least that’s the plan.

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Hoping your week will be a great one, even if it is busy and it makes you feel a little crazy! 102_4787

 

 

 

 

 

Calico Love

She landed on top of me at exactly 6:17 this morning. Thump. So much for sleeping in this Saturday morning. It won’t happen for me, since I have a calico that is in love with me. One that wants to knead her claws on my stomach and then crawl up me until we’re nose to nose. Then she bats me with her paw. Did I mention it is 6:17, or by this time, maybe 6:20ish in the morning?

She follows (stalks) me into the bathroom. She rubs up against my bare legs and meows. She never takes her eyes off of me. I am a little unsettled. She flops over at my feet, asking for a belly rub. I bend over and pet her before washing my face and brushing my teeth. She seems satisfied……for now.

Calico love runs deep….maybe even bordering on the psychotic. Just saying.

Good Saturday morning! 

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