Just Horsing Around

"Hey Hon, do you think you could help me later?" 

"Sure."

Pause.

"With what?" 

"Oh, you know, just catching Nora and Sadie and bringing them down to our barn."

An hour or so later, we set off in the drizzle to round up this Mama Horse and her grown offspring.

 It's one thing to catch an old, tired horse.

It's quite another to catch not just one, but two, that have some spunk and spirit. 

Leo climbed over the gate first. 

Very nicely I might add. 

I didn't get a picture though;

I was too distracted. 

Then to be fair, he said he must take a picture of me doing the same thing.

He was much more graceful. 

Shucks, even an alligator would've scaled this more gracefully. 

(Actually, imagine that…it's quite funny.)

So, after climbing over the fence, I thought the hard part was over. 

The horses would come along without resistance and that would be that. 

So far, so good. 

Our two separated themselves from the others. 

In the wrong direction. 

It's like they knew. 

Nora, the "baby" was the first one to get a rope halter on, lured in by a bucket of grain. 

Not me buddy; lure me in with some freshly baked scones and a cup of coffee. 

(Check out the fence…this is the handiwork of horses when they want to scratch their, um, backsides.)

Maybe plain oats is why Sadie was so resistant. 

She wanted gourmet oats. 

Sprinkled with cinnamon. 

She finally turned around and headed in the desired direction.

I'd like to think it was my horse charming ways,

but I think she was trying to get away so I'd stop talking. 

Once in the pen, it was time for halters before we journeyed with them down the lane...

…to our barn; their new humble abode. 

Halters are on. 

They only got away from me once when I held them both while Leo grabbed something from the stable. I tried to be a valiant cowgirl. Let's just say, that didn't work out so well. 

Leo led Nora (the friskier of the two) and I took Sadie. 

There was a lot of neighing going on between her and Caruso who was apparently a good friend. 

(I personally think he wanted to be more than "just friends.")

This is her having a moment of stubbornness. 

She paused. I waited. It was all good. 

In the end, both horses came pretty nicely down the lane and after some hesitation, 

went into the barn without a lot of fuss and bother. 

I may just need to buy me some cowboy boots after this. 

Love,

Dianne

I Mostly Like This Time of Year

The leaves are mostly off the trees. 

The air is mostly cooler.

The days of summer are feeling far behind and there is 

a glimmer of winter hovering about. 

It's Mid-Autumn and I am mostly liking it. 

The gardens are slowly being put to bed for the winter.

Tonight my hands have that "I-dug-in-the-dirt-without-gloves" kind of roughness 

and I am mostly not liking it. But I do like that I got the old tomato plants dug out 

and the tomato cages put in the basement. 

I more-than-mostly liked the gladiolus that bloomed in late summer. 

I finally got them dug up and tucked away in the basement for the winter. 

I more-than-mostly like that I can finally cross this off my list of things to do. 

It is a very long list.

I probably have as many to-do's as this jungle-y looking tree has leaves. 

Very Jungle-Like. 

I wish I liked them more.

They invade and take over. 

I'll share some with you if you'd like. 

What's not to mostly like about this fuzzy plant? 

It's dramatic.

It adds interest. 

It's unique. 

I always like the views of the pond. 

Sometimes I think that I need to make a water feature in my gardens.

Then I remember, "Oh, I've already mostly got that."

I am mostly satisfied with it, but sometimes I want a waterfall. 

And no snakes. 

No snakes, but I'll take the beef herd any day. 

As long as they mostly stay within their fence. 

I don't know about you, but I mostly like this time of year. 

October…mostly over.

November…mostly open. 

Bring it on!

Love,

Dianne

Ryan, the Wolf-Boy

When you buy a boy a wig you sometimes create a monster.

Literally. 

Especially if he has a cell phone in hand...

 I didn't even know what he was doing in the back seat as we drove home. 

I thought he was merely playing a game on my phone. 

I suppose he was playing a game…kind of. 

Of course, the moon was of the large, full variety...

As long as he doesn't hide in my back seat, jumping up with a growl and a yell as I leave for work.

In the dark. 

Or howl at the moon. 

The neighbors would talk. 

You just gotta love 10 year old boys. 

I know I do. 

Love, 

Mama Werewolf

The Perfect Family

I woke up this morning with "Perfect Family Syndrome". The symptoms include:
~Lingering feelings of guilt over deeds done long ago
~A sudden urge to wear pearls and heels while doing household chores
~A feverish notion that "if I was a stay-at-home-mom" I'd be organized
~Blurry vision resulting from looking at perfect Pinterest homes

The symptoms, recurring often in my home, started this morning when the youngest child informed me that he needed lunch money, again. I tell myself that the perfect family would've known and anticipated this need. Then, as I write the check out, I am reminded that the so-called budget still isn't in writing and really, I need to get that checkbook register in order. From March. (At least it's within the current year.)

The kids leave, without me making them a proper nutritious breakfast, "the most important meal of the day". Did they eat at all? I tell myself that the perfect mom would've made something involving at least a few of the food groups or at the very least, had healthy, homemade breakfast sandwiches in the freezer. Or a banana that wasn't overripe, or an apple that was still crisp.

The house is quiet since they left. I hope they remembered everything. The school secretary probably thinks I need my own personal dropbox for all the items I need to bring to the school that are forgotten. Music instruments, volleyball warm-ups, volleyball socks, cash for field trips, snacks for parties, and ingredients for Home Economics.

Of course, I know where they get their forgetfulness from. Last evening, after the game, I was running to Meyersdale to get the aforementioned home-ec ingredients (I had forgotten the list and needed to call home to get it) and forgot to get treats for the Senior girls on the team for Senior Night. So, when I really just wanted to be done, at home and in bed, I was going to have to go back in and get the candy bars. I tell myself that the perfect family would've had a stash in the pantry for moments such as this.

Now, I notice the refrigerator isn't closing properly so I go to check it out. Inside I find a container, never opened, of baby spinach now languishing miserably that is causing the door to jam. I tell myself that the perfect family, the perfect mom would've eaten this already because she is healthy and cooks healthy for her family. Instead, I am tossing McDonalds wrappers from my car from yesterday's busyness. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Really, I could go on here for a long time about "the perfect family" that is in my mind; the one that I can never measure up too. You know, the one who takes her daughter with a rash to the doctor the day it appears instead of waiting and the school nurse calling me to see if I was aware of it. You know, that one. (As it turns out, when the nurse called the second time, I could say that she had been seen, was on Prednisone and yes, I was aware. Score!) Being a nurse and a mother, I felt the guilt of this one even more, like I was being scolded. Tsk tsk, you of all people should know better. What were you thinking sending this miserable itching child to school?

I could be quite discouraged. I can remember back to when my children were all smaller, messier and less helpful and I think that my thoughts went something like this: "When they get older, I'll have the house clean all the time and we'll have more time to eat together and be together."

What?!?!?!

Those of you with older children, teenagers, college-aged young adults living at home know this is not the case. At all.

Unless, we really are the only family that doesn't "have it all together." Please, tell me it isn't so.

But now, it's time to clear the vision, banish the guilt, and get feverish about something productive.
There is no such thing as a perfect family. There are bits and pieces from many families that I see that I would like to be like, but I'll bet that if I lived with them, unseen, for a week I'd see things differently. Maybe on the outside, someone sees my family as The Perfect Family. And if I think about it, in some ways we are.


We forgive each others shortcomings.
We extend grace to each other when it's not always deserved.
We laugh together.
We cry together.
We burp in front of each other.
We are real with each other.

My house may smell stinky sometimes, like when the garbage needs taken out or the basement gets water in it, but hey, that's what candles are for. And when we sit at the table laughing, you don't even notice.

My kids forget stuff for school, and I forget what I am forgetting most of the time, but we gift each other with grace and we don't forget the important things, like saying I love you at bedtime or anytime.

We don't have an organized house (at least from outward appearances!) but it works for us, most days. And if I really did have it all organized and pretty, I 'd probably be grumpy and angry because I'd feel like I had to keep it that way and it would be impossible.

I can already feel the fever leaving, the guilt dissipating, the blurry vision clearing.
And what is that I see?
A Perfect Family, my family, amidst the mess, the chaos, and the busyness.

From one year (above photos) to the next, I'd say we clean up pretty nice! Just don't check Ryan's ears too close.

Love,
Dianne

Feeling Like a One-Tailed Rooster

Today I am feeling a lot like this poor rooster with one tail feather. I am not quite sure how he got this way, but I laughed when I saw him. I couldn't help it. There he was, trying to strut around proudly, with this one lonely, trying to be majestic tail feather flitting about in the breeze. It's still funny.

But, this is how I feel today. Like I want to be up and about, doing my thing, but instead I can barely lift my tail out of bed. Germs, I hate germs. I am not a good patient either. I crow about my ailment in a whiny way. I peck at my food. I walk around with tissues stuffed up my nose.

Not a pretty picture.

This is what I want to feel like:

It's difficult for me to stay in bed, rest and take care of myself. I know I am a nurse and I know what I tell my patients, but it doesn't apply to me. Does it?

Okay, so maybe the plan for the day has now changed from the to-do list with 18 items on it to drinking hot tea in bed with a few books, with a few naps thrown in wherever they chose.

"Many are the plans in a man's heart but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." Proverbs 19:21 

I may only have one tail feather, but it's still waving. This however is not a surrender, but more of a yielding to what is best for today. Hey, if the rooster is still strutting about, I'll join him.

Tomorrow.


Love,
Dianne

The Day:Wonderful

Occasion: Our 25th anniversary
We were all set to go; Leo in the passenger seat and I, behind the wheel. Now mind you, this is not because I like to be in charge (well not all the time!), but more because sometimes his driving makes me carsick. But today, we are lovesick. It is a good thing our children are not here to see this.

Leaving the house: 12:15pm

Destination: The Cornish Manor and other places in the general vicinity of Oakland, MD that we have always wanted to visit but never take the time to do so. 

The Chef to welcome us inside off the wraparound porch. 

Located in an old "cottage", the atmosphere was vintage, charming, and oh-so Dianne. I wanted to explore all the rooms and look at all the old photos on the walls. A house with history that now serves delicious food (ahh yes, Creme Brûlée for dessert…mmmmm); what more could I ask for?

And in the same room as us? A few members of the class of 1954 that we had the pleasure of eavesdropping on as they reminisced about high school capers that no one wanted to admit to being a part of. Thoroughly enjoyable!

Of course, I had to go up those stairs! It's a good thing it's open to the public, because I had a plan that involved distraction, diversion, and division. Leo would provide all three.

Just us, reflecting on the day thus far...

 Bellies full now of seafood, Cornish potatoes, salad and warm crusty bread, we headed for our next destination. A little place called Simon Pearce. With exquisite glassware in stunning displays in the showroom, I had to resist the urge to spin around, arms outstretched just because I wanted to see the look on the hostess' face if I did it. I am pretty sure that "you break it, you buy it" really means "your bank account it now broke".

While there, we walked along the visitor's catwalk and observed the glass blowers doing what they do best. The timing and how they worked together was quite amazing to watch. I want to know who discovered that sand, when heated, makes this molten liquid that becomes pliable and can be blown into vessels. Amazing. Truly an art form.

After not breaking any glass, or our bank account, we set off to see a few local museums. As it turns out, we got to there about 15 min after they had all closed. All three of them. Another day.

But, we did watch a father and son as they worked on restoring a caboose from the B&O railroad. An Eagle Scout project that would look interesting in my yard, don't you think?










Then, since our timing was so bad with the museums, what that really meant was that we'd have more time for what I was really interested in. An Antique Mall that pretty much calls my name every single time I go by it. Today would be the day.

I am sensing endless possibilities here. 

Any place that has Currier & Ives plates is a winner with me. And old doorknobs…and books…and buttons…and linens…and vintage toys…and antique games…and old salvaged house parts, like shutters, doors and windows…and movie posters…and stuffed alligators…

Well, not the stuffed alligator. He was creepy.

So was the white cup with a clown on it that I found that I had when I was a kid. (My phone battery died, so no picture. Hey Mom, do we still have that cup?) Before it died though, I found these mugs that I think must've come from saving cereal box tops. I think my grandparents had some of these. Tang, anyone?








Not only did this place have room after room of treasures, it had hats. I like hats. Hats don't always like me though. It's a love/hate relationship.



 Maybe it was the hats.

Maybe it was the Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney crooning in the background, but this antique mall was romantic.

We even foxtrotted and didn't care if anyone saw us.

For a little while, we went our separate ways. He explored some old books and odd pieces of machinery. I checked out the eclectic display of vintage pieces in the kitchen area and lacey linens while drooling over some wardrobes. Then when I rounded the corner of a bookcase, this is what I saw:

  Ignore the book that says, "Discovery of Witches"; what I saw was my groom in the room and he was not riding a broom.

Our time visiting the past came to an end as we turned the car towards home. Looking forward to stopping at a coffee shop at The Lake, we were disappointed that it, like the museums, was not on the same time table as us.  But, had we stopped there for a coffee break, we might have missed this:

And believe me when I say, I wouldn't have missed this,

nor the last 25 years, for anything.

Not even for a cup of really good coffee. 

The Day: Wonderful

Love,

Dianne