“Chick, chick, chick, chick.” Silence. “CHICK, CHICK, CHICK, CHICK, CHICK!” Little red hen heads pop up from the brush on the side of the yard, and fat hen bodies start waddling their way over to where I am. When I step forward, the hens turn in unison and head into the chicken run. I… Read More When did I become a male chicken?
This has been a crazy tiring few weeks. I was already exhausted from selling fireworks at my church’s fundraising stand when God blessed us with a new foster child. He’s an amazing child. He’s smiley, loves toys, and has a most contagious laugh. He eats, he plays. and he sleeps – sort of. It’s the “sort… Read More I’m so tired that I…
Today’s post is for the ladies. Hope you enjoy! Today I washed bras. You know what happens when it gets really hot outside and all your bras need washed at the same time – all thoughts of handwashing those delicate things goes out the window. So I washed a whole load of them, in the… Read More About my bras
This morning started out like any other morning. I was half awake, in my pajamas, outside feeding the rabbits and chickens. And then my husband shouted from the garage door “There’s an opossum in the cat food!” It was suddenly not an ordinary day, and I was very awake. Turns out a very young opossum had gotten… Read More More adventures with opossums, or, this is how marriage works
I found this image the other day, and was struck by how true it is. Success is defined as the accomplishment of an aim or purpose. So in addition to having to decide if you have accomplished your aim or purpose – you have to know exactly what that aim or purpose is! In my… Read More Defining success
“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body. But rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming …. WOW what a ride!” — Unknown Today I added several new cuts and bruises to my already extensive list… Read More How not to build a bridge
Chapter 1 Enter the mouse: scritch, scritch, rustle, squeak. In the wall of the bedroom. He’d never been here before, and the surroundings were unfamiliar, making silent running an impossibility. Rustle. Rustle, scritch, rustle. ________________________________ ________________________________ Chapter 2 Enter Thumbcat, padding into the room on soft, silent cat paws. A simple hop onto the bed,… Read More The mouse vs. the Thumbcat