A MILITARY FLAG

There's a military flag that hangs in one of my front windows indicating that I have a son who serves.  I use this flag as a point of reference as I sit in my "meditation chair". The cat that usually occupies that chair is very mindful that it is reserved for me in the early morning shortly after I've fed him and I appreciate that!

Each time I sit in that chair to review my upcoming day or the events of the past or (even more appropriately) to just stare in contemplation, I'm reminded of my son who has served his country proudly for the past 17 yrs.   I've been very fortunate to have him stateside for the better part of those years.  During that period of time he and his wife have gifted us with two beautiful granddaughters and we've had the opportunity to visit him in four different parts of this country.

Soon he and his little family will be traveling to the other side of the world and seeing them other than through the marvels of Skype will be more difficult than ever. Of course we'll keep in touch and, hopefully, my husband and I will be able to make at least one or two trips to see them in their new environment while they're gone, but the separation will be very hard on us.

Having said this, however, I am reminded of the many other military families around the world who face this situation on a routine basis. And how many families must turn their military flag's star from blue to gold.....a fate that hopefully, we will not have to endure.

I was born during WWII during which my father and some uncles served. Thankfully, they all came back in relative good health. But back then, communication being what it was, my mother rarely knew where my father or her brother was in the world and her best line of communication was reading the daily newspaper and then, unfortunately, primarily for the lists of the ones who didn't make it. Every day a loved one's name was not on that list was a day to be thankful.

A good friend of mine has a son who will be heading to Afghanistan about the same time my son will be leaving for Okinawa. I know she's concerned yet, like me, is very proud of her country and proud to have a son who is willing to serve.

There's a lot of things wrong with these United States. But there's still a lot of things right and I've always been grateful to live in a country where I'm free to live my life pretty much the way I choose. Having a son who is willing to serve this country to protect this right couldn't make me more grateful.

While in the military, I've watched my son grow up and develop into the fine young man he is today; a young man who has taught me many things including how to set up a blog! A young man who has surprised me by the depth of his love for his family both immediate and extended. A young man who has developed his intelligence in things philosophical, mystical and practical. A young man who displays wise understanding beyond his years.

So while this young man serves his country to protect those of us who must stay behind, I'll proudly display this military flag and look forward to the day he can come home.

Peace and love,

Carol

IS IT WRONG TO PRAY FOR A CHICKEN?

I really like my chickens! They're all banties and, specifically, Cochin Banties which means they have feathers all the way down their legs. 


Our first batch of chickens (6, I believe) have long since been taken from us either by wild critters or our own dog who thinks of them as playthings. No matter that he's 70# and they weigh no more than three--given the opportunity he'll bat them around and wonder why they don't keep getting up. Someone said they'd get rid of the dog. But my response is that I had the dog before I had the chickens so he comes first. Besides, he's a Lab and part of this is in his DNA. His nature is to track down and retrieve--most often birds.


About a year and a half ago, when my Grandson suggested he'd like to see baby chicks again, we took the plunge and ordered 25 day old chicks from a supplier. They came in the mail! My husband picked them up at the post office.


We successfully raised them for a number of weeks until they were nearly grown when our Lab broke into their housing arrangement killing about half of them. I've never seen my husband more distraught and he gave Jake a wide berth for quite some time. But more than half did survive including Lady Grey, my favorite. Lady Grey isn't pictured here but like Dottie above, she's the same size and build but with soft grey feathers similar to what  you might find on a morning dove.

We've since had a very sturdy facility built to house our "babies" and have been successful at keeping them for over a year and a half with a relatively small attrition rate. The fact is, chickens die all on their own from time to time for no apparent reason. And we've tried to even the odds of getting colors I prefer by finding good homes for extra roosters. My husband carved out a little chicken door complete with ladder for them to walk up and down in the evening to go to bed and in the morning to come out and walk in the 1/4 acre garden. They do a good job of keeping the bug population down in the garden.

We currently have 9 full grown hens who give us 2-4 eggs per day and 3 roosters one of which will be given to a good home in a few days because A. we don't need THREE roosters for that many hens and, B. he's black and I just happen to prefer the lighter colors in our flock unless their feathers (like Dottie's above) are particularly interesting. Our little black rooster and his little black sister are babies raised by our own little hens. They're about 3 mos. old and he's beginning to crow so it's time to ship him off to his own little harem and let our white rooster, Mephitophlez, do the job he shares with Covert, the World's Ugliest Rooster!


In addition, we also have most recently, five babies that have hatched over the last few weeks (4 yellow and one black--yeah--he/she will probably also find a new home when it's grown up).


Every night when they've gone to bed, I check to make sure they're all safely enscounsed and close up all the doors to their shed. I do a head count but the other night Lady Grey came up missing. She may have been missing the night before, but my husband had closed them up while I was out and he doesn't do head counts--chickens are fine with him but not so much his "thing". 


I worried about her and did a brief garden check to see if there was sign of a struggle but to no avail and no matter how hard I searched for her in the shed, she simply wasn't in some hard to see corner and didn't come out in the morning for feed.


Most of the morning I felt bad for losing her trying to figure out what went wrong in all our safety procedures. For the most part, our chickens have heavy cover from hawks. So what could have happened to her was a mystery. I must admit, I did pray for her. Is that wrong when God has so many other things to worry about?


Shortly after noon, I heard some squawking on the north side of the garden and, though this is not uncommon, I decided to investigate. And, sure enough, there was Lady Gray--on the other side of the garden fence in our neighbor's yard! Pacing back and forth, it was clear she knew she was on the other side of the fence and she knew where she should be--back in our garden! 


My husband and I were able to scoop her up and let her fly to safety in our garden where she quickly grabbed a snack and headed for the chicken house to lay an egg!


Did my prayer work? And how had she survived one, possibly two, nights away from safety? I have no idea. But she's home safe and sound now and that's all that matters and my faith in God, though it never wavered, certainly was once again justified!


Peace and love,


Carol

I'M IN IT FOR THE HUGS

I've been wanting to write about this for some time now so here goes!

I grew up in a pretty straight-laced German based family in the NW suburbs of Chicago. Touching one another was not that common and then in only appropriate places. Pecks on the cheek were more common. For example, I was allowed to kiss my mother on her cheek when she tucked me into bed at night. Otherwise, the closest she came to touching me would be when she'd allow me into her lap for comfort. The best was when she would be talking or singing (she had a beautiful voice) and I could hear her voice as I rested my head on her chest. The memories of those soft reverberations are still with me.

In the frequent large family gatherings, touching was simply not done. And, if it was, it had to be in only "appropriate" places. The occasional pat on the back was acceptable. Hugging was rarely performed.

My father was from the deep south (Georgia) where touching, especially in the form of hugs, was another story.  On the rare occasions when we visited his family, I knew to brace myself for the hugs that would accompany greetings or leavings. Those were the only hugs I was familiar with and I dutifully endured them. But as I said, those occasions were years apart.

I was, of course, aware that there were other kinds of touching suitable between married couples. But that kind of touching outside the bounds of marriage was frowned upon and girls who allowed that were thought of as loose. I grew up thinking that it was okay for my parents to touch me in certain ways so as to examine my body for injury or infection. The same kind of touch was okay from a doctor. Otherwise, touches of that nature and more were reserved for my someday husband.

At 21, I married a man who was also from the deep south, Mississippi to be exact. I never had any problem with him touching me in any way he wanted--after our vows were spoken--or at least pretty close to that time! But I'd have to steel myself for visits to his part of the world where hugs were more common-placed and I'd be expected to endure them on a more frequent basis. Still, touching of certain parts of the body were strictly reserved for my husband.

I remember a visit early in our marriage traveling in the summer in an un-air-conditioned car (which was pretty common back in the early '60s. My fair skin, hidden away in the Northern cloudier climes was not accustomed to the sun and I burned easily through the car windows and when getting out of the car to stretch my legs. The parts of my body that burned included my arms and upper chest.

When we arrived at my husband's home, his step-mother immediately saw my pain and being a nurse and mother came out of the house armed with a pain relieving salve. Instead of handing me the lotion to put on myself, she grabbed me to put it on my upper chest--a place reserved for touching by only my husband! Mortified, I suddenly inexplicably found myself in the school yard across the street crying and trembling when my husband caught up with me! That's how unaccustomed I was to being touched.

Today's society is far more relaxed (thank goodness!). Everyone everywhere seems to greet one another with hugs (which is actually less germ laden than a handshake!). Of course, we're still careful about inappropriate touching but hugs seem to be the norm rather than the exception and I've grown to love them. I gladly accept them and offer them freely to those I care about. There is just something so wonderful about that human contact that soothes the soul. I can't get enough of them and I'm so glad I've changed to accept them freely.

Hugs today are shared not only between men and women on a non-romantic but nonetheless caring basis, but also between two women and two men with no thought of any untoward connotations. I love it! I really think this is what life is all about. Literally reaching out and touching another human allows that human to feel accepted and loved on so many different and appropriate levels.

So if we ever meet, dear reader, remember--I'm in it for the hugs! and feel free to share one of yours with me!

Peace and love,

Carol

ON PAINTING

On a recent visit to my son's place in Vancouver, WA, I told him I'd be willing to help paint his house but to be forewarned, I was a very messy painter!  I knew this was true--I've done my share of painting!--but the view was further reinforced just the other day.


You see, I'm on a remodeling kick of my own. Don't know if it was inspired by my son who must get his house ready for the market or if it was just because "it's time"! We've been in this house for five years and the wallpaper (which I'm sure wasn't new when we bought the place) is beginning to fade. Besides, there's sheet flooring in the bathrooms and since they're small anyway, we figure it's a good time to upgrade to ceramic tile. 


But you know how it is. You can't do just one thing to a room because it makes the rest of the room look shabby. And if you're going to do the floors and have any ideas of doing anything else, you'd best do the "anything else" first as the floors are the last thing you want to do. Thus, I've literally been on a tear the last couple of weeks.


Tearing off the wallpaper, tearing out the shower doors (which I happen to hate!), tearing down the register in the ceiling because it's yellowed with age, etc., etc., etc.  Now, finally, it's time to paint. The only problem is, I haven't completely decided on what color!


Well--not totally. I basically want a white bathroom with gold accents but a little dab of color here and there wouldn't hurt. Since I'd done some faux painting in my kitchen when we remodeled it a few years ago, I thought I'd attempt that in the bathroom. The base color is easy, the rest is still, at this writing, pretty unresolved. Oh well, I digress. I could at least put on the primer and paint the ceiling--all white--and even the base coat--also white. So now the adventure begins!


None of the bathrooms in this house are very large which explains why we can afford to put ceramic tile in them both at the same time.  But, bathrooms are still bathrooms with barely an unconflicted wall or space. In other words, there's something to work around on every wall! But, honestly, to paint this small room really shouldn't take that long--maybe an hour at best?!


I've been smart enough to don my "paint clothes" as I've approached the job. Still, for me, getting more paint on the wall than on me is a challenge! Climbing on stools and ladders and maneuvering them in the small bathroom space is also a challenge. I didn't think much about wearing gloves while I put on primer but I've learned that even my hands aren't safe! The thing about primer is that it's made to stick to the wall--so, of course, it stuck to my hands.


Before this job, for one of the few times in my life I had fingernails that looked good enough to warrant pretty polish--even a trip to a nail salon. I said good-bye to them two weeks ago! 


And speaking of getting into the nooks and crannies (was I?), and stepping up on step stools placed in the bathtub -- well, the problem with step stools placed in the bathtub is that you have to get up and down them to refill the paint roller. Being naturally lazy and thinking always to save time and effort, I figured the job would go faster if I simply balanced the paint tray in my left arm while applying the paint with my right. It was working pretty well, too--at least for a minute. Then, while concentrating on getting the paint as far into that upper crack as possible, I began to feel something wet dripping down my side. 


To my horror, in the natural movement of my stretch, I'd tipped the tray towards me and it was running down my side into the bathtub covering the lower have of my shirt, the entire front side of my shorts (soaking through to my stomach and upper thigh), and doing a pretty good job of covering the step stool! (Note to self: buy new step stool for kitchen--this one's trashed! the paint job didn't take!).


The thing is, even though this is all "washable" paint, no matter how hard I try to scrub I simply can't reach every area that's been painted--on me! So when I go some place these days, people invariably point out some patch I've missed and say "Oh--I see what color you're using!" Now, the paint is white, and I'm white, but there's still a big contrast to my skin!


And did I mention my hair?! At my advanced age I discovered a few years ago that it was alright to give up coloring my hair because the color I was buying (a pale blond) was just about the color it was coming out--a pale gray! I can now add that it's been "frosted" with white paint--and that doesn't come off in the first washing either!


So, to my son who occasionaly reads this, you were very wise in rejecting my offer to help you paint your house and I was being very truthful. I am a messy painter! 


Having said that I wonder how much of the green paint I can keep out of my hair when I begin the faux painting! And can I claim it as a new trend in highlighting?! Somehow I doubt it! Oh well, at least it will make me ready for Christmas!


In Love and Peace!


Carol

HOW TO KEEP A CLEAN HOUSE (CONT'D)

So, what to do, what to do? About keeping a clean house?


You'd think that now that I'm retired, I'd have the answer, wouldn't you? But the very notion that I'm retired tends to conjure up all the options of what's available to me--and cleaning house is not high on the list! After all, I'm retired--I should be able to do whatever I want with my time, right? And I can assure you that cleaning house has never been high on my list of enjoyable activities.


I really have tried and from time to time I actually achieve a semblance of my goal. I've set up a cleaning schedule and try to stick to it. But things get in the way. For example, at the moment, I'm trying to remodel/redecorate my bathroom. I've got all the old wallpaper off, patched holes, even tore out a major cabinet (with the help of my husband, of course). I've sanded, scraped, brushed and scrubbed to the point where it's nearly ready to be put back together. This sort of thing doesn't happen in a 2 hour period of time!


I also belong to an exclusive organization whose meetings I need to attend at least three to four times a week to maintain my mental and emotional health. The meetings are only an hour--that's not the problem! Getting to the meetings takes a half hour and while I'm out of the house is the perfect opportunity to shop--collect more stuff!--so that one hour meeting easily stretches into a three hour block of time! When I finally get back home, there are any one of a myriad of tasks I'd rather perform than general housekeeping--besides--I have to put away that new stuff!


I guess what I'm saying is that unless you're a natural born clean and neat freak who periodically moves so that you can routinely review your stuff, keeping a neat and clean house is just not going to happen--except in those sporadic moments when the urge to clean and declutter becomes so strong that you act upon it. Things do stay nice for a while--even for some time--like three or four days; maybe you can even stretch it out for a week or two!


But slowly, the clutter creeps back into your life once again. At least that's been my experience. 


I'm working on it, though. Redecorating/remodeling the bathroom is a start. And I'm bugging my husband to work on his part--nag, nag, nag! But unless I want to get rid of him (which I don't--well, maybe occasionally, but generally not!) and all but just a very few of my animals, I guess I'm stuck!


Anyone who needs expertise can go to www.flylady.com--she's got some good tips. I've tried it but it takes a lot of self-discipline and obviously I'm short on that. Concepts are simple but so hard to carry out. Having company come for a visit also helps motivate me to put things in order. And I really do try to vacuum at least once in a while--sometimes that's even once a week! But that's a chore and I am "retired" and I'd rather blog!--and feed my chickens which I need to do!


Thanks for reading!


Peace and love,


Carol




 

HOW TO KEEP A HOUSE CLEAN (CONT'D)

As I was saying.....about housekeeping. 


I think unless you're born a natural neat freak, it's very hard for the average person to really keep house in the manner in which they'd like to become accustomed. It takes time, effort, even a passion. Once I'd learned from The Feminine Mystique (Betty Friedan) that housekeeping required the intelligence of the average nine year old child, I was kinda turned off. Besides, there were just too many other things I could use my better brain to work on!


I did occasionally hire someone to come in and clean for us. The problem with that is that you need to clean the house before they come so they can clean it! You know what I mean. How can you expect a stranger to come in and dust when all the surfaces to be dusted are full of stuff?  So, for me at least, that's the main issue--all the "stuff"! Cleaning itself is not all that difficult and can be rewarding--but what about all that clutter--all that stuff?!


There are entire organizations devoted to helping people organize their stuff so I'm guessing this is a big problem! Articles abound on the internet, in magazines, even on TV--check out H&GTV or any of the other self-help sites.  We live in an age of information and if you want to know something it's out there.


For me, the second time in my life when I had a truly clean house was when we were trying to move out of it! I think this is the subtle secret of some people. Those people whose jobs demand that they move periodically, regardless of whether it's on their dime or the someone else's, just never have the opportunity to settle and let their stuff collect! 


We were in our last house over 28 yrs.! Can you imagine all the "stuff" we'd accumulated?! Even after hiring full-sized dumpsters and refilling them on more than one occasion we still had more stuff than would fit into our next house even though it was virtually the same size! The only real difference I could see is that the new house didn't really have a useable attic--another haven for stuff one doesn't know what to do with but can't part with.


But just clearing out stuff wasn't the total answer. I had to clear out people! By the time of this last move, the kids had moved out so it was just my husband and me living in a 2400 sq. ft. house trying to move to another 2400 sq. ft. house but with all the accumulations of 40 yrs. of marriage and two kids! Now if that isn't a challenge I don't know what is!


More than half the stuff we owned was already moved into our new house and we still weren't ready to put our old house on the market! Something had to be done and we did it. The only solution I could see was for my husband to move into the new house while I stayed behind to clean up and manage the old one.


And I finally did it! There I was living by myself, in this big house and I was finally able to achieve not only a clean house, but an organized one as well. All but two of the cats moved down with my husband and all I had to do was go to work during the day and take care of the house. 


My routine was such that I would get ready for work in the morning, pick up and put everything away (some times that was the night before I went to bed), do a quick scooping of the litterpans, maybe run a quick vacuum or dust mop over the floors and leave the house with nothing in the house but the cats and the bare minimum of furniture. The house was spotless! And available for showing at any time of the day or night. I didn't care if people looked into the closets--they were neat and organized! (After all, all the stuff was in the new house!) I even overheard and got compliments from prospective buyers about how neat and clean the house was! I'd finally achieved the ultimate goal: a clean and neat house!


Of course, the part that was me wasn't really living there but that was besides the point! It could be done; it can be done! As long as I was living by myself, had a minimum of pets and nothing else to do but to make sure the house stayed clean and neat--I could do this!


Well it's that time again to go feed and check on my little chicks. Tomorrow I'll try to wrap this up with more conclusions!


Peace and love!


Carol

HOW TO KEEP A HOUSE CLEAN (CONT'D)