Oliver is an indoor cat…much to his disappointment. To him, it’s kind of boring.

He has spent the warmer months wishing he was outside.

The outside cats taunt him as they stretch in the sun.

Sometimes the cats want inside when winter comes. He responds to their summer lounging by laying in front of a heater…too bad they can’t see him.

After two years he still wants to be outside. Even if he has to be in the cheap seats.

Then he tries to stare us into submission. It doesn’t work.

God has blessed us with the ability to temporarily take leave of our senses when we are in pain, like trekking to safety with broken bones or passing out when the throbbing pulses of our nerves indicate severe injury, but occasionally that ability can come into play in unwanted circumstances, like today.

I’ve never been good with blood. The first time I passed out was at eight or nine in a hospitable and since then it’s been a somewhat predictable pattern of fainting. The last time I passed out Mom sat me in the chair so I wouldn’t hit my head falling to the floor like all the previous times, but that chair didn’t stop me. I just found a different route to the floor, though indeed a little less bumpy.

Well today, I was a little nervous as I needed to have blood drawn. 4 little vials waited beside me and the room was small and oddly lit, but the lady was very kind, hinting at my nervousness. I made it through 3 vials and then it started; that horribly uncomfortable silent-movie-type of symptom. My vision became blurry and I couldn’t hear the faces talking to me. An intense sweat broke out over my body and I immediately tried to read something on the wall to occupy my mind but before I could finish the poster on coughing, I performed the ‘classic Margaret faint‘, as Mom calls it. Apparently I went white and for someone who always has a rosiness in their cheeks, white means white. My head fell forward and my body shook for a little bit and then I came to.

The lady, when I awoke, was impressed with my “Snow White” fainting which made me feel better since I was unconscious in front of her. Compared to my somewhat unattractive routines in the past, this fainting was very proper and the closest I’ve ever come to fainting like in the movies. You know - the elegant sigh, the back of the hand against the fevered brow, and then the sweeping fall to the couch, ground, or in the below case - into the arms of those standing by.  I hate to bust the bubble of those who have never fainted, but let me tell you…the actual process is not elegant in any way, sadly.

From my perspective, during the seconds in which I was “gone”, I experienced a very fascinating example of the mysteries of the mind. In those fifteen seconds I saw every Dick Van Dyke episode flash before my mind in a fifties type of reel. For those wondering why, I had just watched an episode of Dick Van Dyke before leaving. Case solved.

A few hours before the auction…

After reading Cheyenne’s post about worrying, I am ashamed to say that after reading such a post and saying to myself  “Margaret, you’re not going to worry about it” that I have backtracked about a mile and have spent most of my day thinking about worrying. Tonight I will be at the county fair auction displaying my honey. For some reason I have got the jitter bug crawling all over, even though I’ve done this before with chickens. I know that all will be all right and I won’t die, but for some reason, I can’t tell my nerves to just stop it!

There’s something about the idea of standing before an arena of people watching you that just sets me off of the experience. And then I sit myself down (metaphorically) and figure out what it is that is bothering me to the extent of having Mom take the child proof lid off of the Pepto-Bismal bottle. Does anyone else have problems with child proof lids ?

The morning after…

I am writing this part the morning after, like an auction hangover. I am pooped and feeling the effects of an immediate bout of relief being thrust upon the body after a nervous experience. As I expected, yet failed to really believe, everything went well. No one threw tomatoes at me, or snickered as I held my two jars of honey in front of me, with a surprisingly natural smile plastered on my face.

I was at the very end, after all the pigs, steers, turkeys, rabbits, and sheep. I had to be careful where I was stepping and I made the mistake of not giving thought to what was on my feet…flip flops. Bad choice, but miraculously I didn’t step into anything! Ta-da!

The honey sold for $80, which is not bad, but even in 4-H, everything is politics. I was mentioned in the paper this morning and I had the pleasure of selling the honey to a family that I knew. The wife poked her husband and said “I’m out of honey at home, buy it. ” And he did, after only one other bid, but I made it through the night still standing, so I should be pleased.

Photos courtesy of : Breezy

So the normal routine has passed :

Step 1 : You think you’re calm and you go about your day.

Step 2 : For some reason you start thinking, and everything that could go wrong flashes through your mind and you start to feel butterflies in your stomach.

Step 3 : You talk yourself out of it, and make believe that you are indeed fine.

Step 4 : As it nears time, you finally admit that you’re a little nervous and go through your own routine of calming the nerves.

Step 5 : A minute before the dreaded event comes, you think about the things you will be doing after it’s over, and wish you were doing them now, which would mean it is actually over.

Step 6 : Post temporary paralysis; you feel fine and laugh at yourself for worrying, and say that you’ll never do that again.

Steps 1- 5 : Repeated sooner than you know.

Warning: Another long post!

From Wednesday evening to Saturday afternoon, our family of three have been ‘vacationing’ in Kentucky. We went to experience the  Bluegrass Classic Sheepdog Trials and a Fiber Fest in Lexington. I love traveling and enjoy seeing new country, yet being the extreme homebody that I am…let’s just say that I was ready to go home long before we actually left. Familiarity lends great comfort to me in my everyday life, and spending my day in a quiet manner relaxes me…but driving through a big town everyday, living temporarily in a small room with a sinister television set for company, and fast food most of the time wore me out.

We first crossed the Ohio River…

…then we arrived at the grounds where the trials were being held…way off the road on lots of acreage

…just one of the many dogs that trialed

…a handler shedding the sheep

…some ewes just feel the need to jump as they entered the pen

…then we stopped by the Lexington Cemetery and we could not have stayed too long there. It is the most beautiful cemetery with the oldest of graves mingled with the newest. The Todd family, as in Mary Todd Lincoln, is buried there, along with Henry H. Halley, John C. Breckenridge, and a sailor who died aboard the Maine in Cuba. We took hundreds of photos but I uploaded only a few.

…charming Madison on the river

…back home again

…a new hobby which I am seriously thinking about taking up

…and the beautiful sunset that we watched as we made our way back home

I suppose a good place to start would to apologize to my dear mother for not posting a tribute to her on my blog for Mother’s Day like so many other dutiful daughters. I mean, she has done so much for me and I can’t bring myself to leave what I’m doing and take a moment to honor her with words? However, I think that a day late still qualifies in the range of acceptability. The day of I did make a card and surprise her with a gift (infrared thermometer). So…Happy Mother’s Day…Mother!

And, a few pictures would suffice for explaining what I’ve been up to lately…and perhaps the largest post I’ve ever had:

Blocking

Gardening….

The potatoes are to the left and the other two rows are going to be beans

And our square foot gardens are coming along nicely

Spring Recital…went well…these are my recital feet (see profile)

Some of the family

And for laughs…the dog is really annoyed at having her picture taken…as you can tell

For the past few weeks I have been either outside with our new square foot gardening, inside doing schoolwork, or going to piano lessons as the spring recital draws near. My pieces will be Somewhere in Time by John Barry and the Hungarian Dance #1 for 4-Hands by Brahms (a duet with my teacher).

An exciting new addition to our homestead is our square foot garden/raised beds. I can hardly remember a time when we didn’t have a garden or plants growing on the patio, and  each one  was full of weeding, watering, hours of harvesting, etc. With our new system, aka Raised Beds, it is much more relaxed and enjoyable, plus they look adorable. I tidy and organize most of my life into right angles, so with our uniform and clean garden…I am in the organized gardener’s bliss.

Step 1: Ye Plant

Step 2: Watch ‘em grow…do you see the organization?

And last but not least…my very own row of taters! For some reason, growing potatoes makes me happy. I’ve sat down and thought about it and I’ve come to no conclusion about why this happens

So, how’s your garden doing?

Mom and I were figuring up my subjects for school and when we will finish up the necessary courses, when it dawned on us that I could/possibly will graduate a year early (in 2011). I will only have to spend one more year learning in a formal education, and then I can continue to learn day by day and let the winds of knowledge take me for an enjoyable ride.

We have also been dog sitting Bently, of the house of Noble Rose Press, while they were away.  Like the last time we watched him, I have grown to think him adorable even more…though I am still borderline on my feelings for little bitty dogs.

And I just received my yarn for the above project a few days ago. It will be a 4-H project and go into my hope chest when it is finished. Aren’t they adorable?

This evening at Granny’s we could hear the chirp of pond frogs as the cool of the night began to descend. They seemed to serenade the tune of the warmer months. Instead of the orchestral harsh winter winds at night, the sweet lullaby of critters floated across the land and into the room through an open window. That is a sound I want to hear as I rock a child to sleep, or when I sit down on my porch and contemplate. I feel pity for those in the big cities, who cannot rest in the quiet, but are trained in loud sirens and noisy neighbors. I feel sorrow for the child or adult who has never seen the stars in all their vastness due to the presence of a streetlight, or hear the call of an owl because there are no trees for miles.

And here I am, never having lived in the wilderness, or slept near mountains. How can I feel homesick for something I’ve never had? To look out and gaze upon a seemingly silent giant, isolating me from the horizon. When shall I rise and fall in the shadow of a mountain?

from my journal dated March 23rd, 2010

image credit

“The most notorious incident of all was not understood until recently. In 1961 residents in Santa Cruz, California, awoke to the sound of birds slamming against their homes. Some locals rushed outside with flashlights, only to find dead birds in the street and disoriented, sickened gulls rushing straight at them, attracted by the light.

This story drew the attention of Alfred Hitchcock, who had considered basing a film on a Daphne du Maurier story called “The Birds.” Motivated by the real-life incident, Hitchcock got to work on the film. It took more than fort years for scientists to realize that the bizarre behavior of those seagulls was probably caused by a toxic algae bloom that poisoned the anchovies the birds ate.”

-from Wicked Plants by Amy Stewart, on the subject of toxic blue green algae

Our house proves that you do not need money to have a cutely decorated home…most often the homes that don’t match or have a theme but are purely kept clean and cozy out of a loving heart are the most inviting and pleasing. Our motto for decorating is “One man’s junk is a another man’s treasure” and it is indeed true. An old door-someone’s junk…that same old door-my treasure. Decorating is truly an art, for if one pays no heed to how to arrange their home…it will not look as well as a home that has thought and love in placing things around for company and the family. One can tell when a home looks like no one every uses the fancy china, or walks across the perfectly clean carpet; the kitchen that sparkles of no use, or the living room that looks like it hasn’t had laughter and people actually living in it. A home should not be for show, but for the family, though that does not mean that clean homes are unwelcome…but one can tell when a house has the fake beauty of things and pieces of decor, and when a house is lived in by a family that spills things on the carpets, uses the appliances, and wears out the floors and chairs from constant use. Those are the homes I feel most comfortable in.