Day 8: What's In Your Handbag?

Without pre-sorting or elimination, here's what's in my "handbag"...

First, the purse...
It's kind of an oilcloth outside so I can spill ice cream on it, wipe it off like a tablecloth and go.
Shazzam!

Map of Paris, special fly for a special occasion, map (AND public transit schedule) of Boston, 2012 Red Sox schedule and a locket with photos of me as a baby with my Dad.

Little notebook with random thoughts, three business cards, a Miss Me tag, enough sticky notes to run a portable office, toothpaste, lip gloss, sample of facial cleanser and a little box of flies.

I couldn't remember what was written on the notes!  This one was a list of recommended books about Boston, written down while riding the train with Sue in to see the Museum of Fine Arts.

Close up of the personal hygiene products....pathetically few, for a chick.

Stickers from the emergency room visit in Glasgow this weekend (Maggie sprained her wrist while tubing), a Dilbert cartoon that never fails to make me laugh, recipes clipped from the Billings Gazette, super hero book mark and a grocery list....

Close up of the Dilbert cartoon...

I left my heart in the North End...
Close up of the Boston map.

 I KNOW...
You want me to show you the flies.
Well, I'm not going to.  You only get to see them if you join me in person!  That way I can talk on and on about them...

Almost forgot to show you the zebra print wallet and camera!

That's it!

Now, I'm off to find my wine bottle opener, the MP3 player and the pens I thought were in there.

FINALLY CAUGHT UP ON THE CHALLENGE

HUZZAH!!!

Day 7: Your pet hates

Well...

Our dog, Twilla, hates getting moved off the chair to the floor.  She also hates anything that seems like it might have been a plant at one time, so she very carefully picks through any leftovers we put down for her and leave behind corn kernels, bits of lettuce and an offending black bean.  She might have to suck the yummy stuff off, then spit out the plant byproduct, but it's worth it.  Someday, I'll have to tell her that her dog food has corn and rice in it and who KNOWS what will happen when THAT information reaches HRH??

Our cat, Figaro, hates having his paws wet.  He also hates loud music.

Our OTHER cat, Elizabeth, hates kittens.  She's not fond of Figaro, right now, either.  In fact, she's just really sort of grouchy in the summer.

The kittens hate being awakened from their naps or having to sit nicely when they would really rather be pouncing on moths.

My bum calves hate hail on their little tin shelter and being ignored when I'm watering flowers.

The resident toad (does he count as a pet?) hates losing in the game of hide and seek. He hates wagon rides, as well.  (He's a very well traveled, rather nervous sort of toad...)

What a crazy blog theme, huh??

Day 6: Your Five Senses Right Now

Because the Farmer is haying and won't join us for lunch, Maggie requested gumbo.  SO...as I sit here in the post meal quiet, I hear the kids playing each in their own rooms, a contented, full-belly murmur.  The smell of bacon, shrimp, onions, tomatoes and spices is still hanging in the air.  

I learned today that gumbo is an amazingly flexible, forgiving dish....I didn't have all the ingredients for any particular recipe, so I slammed all the cookbooks shut and just went to cooking.  I had okra but no sausage, cumin but no file, canned crab, frozen shrimp, little rice...it all came together and as long as the Gumbo Police don't stop by, I think we're good.

I like it when flavors unfold in a food, so the first taste is the high notes, often the tomato or meat...then, the onions, peppers and spices roll out, and it ends on a smoky, soft, what-could-that-be?-I'd-better-have-another-bite sense.  For the gumbo, I browned the rice in butter before actually boiling it and that was the intriguing end essence.  Who knew that toasted rice in a spicy stew would be the trick?  

The kitchen looks like the crazy cook from Sesame Street just had a big party, even though I try to clean up as I go.

 But here's the thing...

I had to render the bacon grease for the roux. 

Chop whatever veggies I could think of to soften in that same roux.

Peel shrimp.

Brown the rice, 

Cook the chicken breast in strips.

Open the canned tomatoes and broth.

And that's the abbreviated list!

All that, to produce THIS:

(I guess you realize that if TOASTBA was still around, there would be some comment about how this looks like the already digested version...)

:)

I'm feeling full and ready for a nap...

After dishes, of course.

Day 5: Ten songs you love right now

Well, THAT'S like asking Ben or Jerry which is their favorite ice cream....

This very minute...and it could change by the time I post this...the top ten of a gazillion (in no particular order, mind you) are:

1. Jesus Loves Me  (this I know...)

2. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For- U2. (I know.  For an ADD-ish person, this is theme-song material.)

3. Carry On-Pat Green

4. Come Monday-Jimmy Buffett

5. Back It Up-Caro Emerald

6. I Will Survive- Gloria Gaynor

7. All Summer Long-Kid Rock

8. Hey, Soul Sister-Train

9. If Today Was Your Last Day-Nickelback

10. Stay, Stay, Stay-Taylor Swift

Heavily influenced by the summer season, this is a rough, off-the-top-of-my-head list!

And the photo has absolutely nothing to do with the list, just like the list has absolutely no rhyme or reason, so the word of the day is "Eclectic"  I guess...

Day 4: What Are You Afraid Of?

I drove to Miles City by myself yesterday to get groceries and supplies for the big Independence Day Camp-a-palooza and gave this topic some serious thought.  I'm not fearful by nature...I'm a pretty good worrier, but I'm not afraid of much.

There's startling things like snakes, creepy things in the dark (do we ever outgrow that?), loneliness, heights, depths, spiders, cellulite, tornados...all these things are VERY worrisome, but not terrifying to me anymore.  

Can I open my heart, here, and tell you something deep and dark?

(And they move closer to their computers, holding their breath, cupping their cold coffee cups in anticipation...)

:)

I was married before, when I was 19, and it wasn't pretty.  

When I was thinking of this topic, I thought, "I'm afraid of my ex-husband!"  How'm I going to write about THAT in the Chronicles???

But that's not necessarily true.

I'm not afraid of that person.  I keep my distance, that's for dang sure, but I think I could hold my own if push came to shove.

  

I think what I'm REALLY afraid of is being the person I was when I was at that point in my life.  See, I can deal with the other stuff....the creepies, the weather, the aging....but I never, never, NEVER want to go back to being the person I was then.  

I'm afraid of being so unsure of myself that I'll do anything to keep from being disapproved.  

I'm afraid of being mired in helplessness.

I'm afraid of losing hold of the tiny bit of sanity I managed to maintain.  

I'm afraid of being afraid.  

Fear is a horrible force that can make one do things they never thought they'd do, say things they'd never say, compromise, crumble, cower, crawl.  (I know...alliteration...it takes over sometimes. :)

Do you know...when people react in anger, it's usually motivated by fear?  

Over-protection is an obvious reaction to fear, running away is also pretty easy to tag.  

Fear incites arrogance.

It buries joy; raising self consciousness to a debilitating level.

I'm so afraid of being afraid, again.

The hope I have, now, is that 

take a minute, here....

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear"  1 John 4:18

I've got to hang on to the love, you know?  God's love, not man's.  

It's the only perfect love.

Except for the love my dog, Molly, has for me.  I'm pretty sure she's the personification of God's love for me on four feet, but she's not going to be around forever.  In fact, I don't know if she's going to make it through the summer, and that's sort of the other thing I'm afraid of.  Maybe a little.  

*I came back to post this, as it obviously didn't auto-post over the weekend...
We had to put Molly down over the weekend.  I had to face one of my greatest fears and I wake up this morning still facing it...no little dog beside me.  

Day 3: Favourite Quote

Click on the picture for a full image.

(Crummy template settings, anyway!!!)

Toastless

Where is TOASTBA?

(The Original And Still The Best Anonymous)

This question has come up several times in the last few months from other faithful readers and commenters of the Chronicles. Well, how in the world should I know?  That's the whole fun of the anonymous comment!  

I DO have theories, however.

Theory #1

     TOASTBA was apprehended and taken into custody for impersonating a Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer. (This actually happened, if you can imagine!  One of the guys who read The Farmer's blog is serving time for this exact crime.  He doesn't leave comments any more, either.)

Theory #2

     TOASTBA won the BIG lottery and is now living on a yacht in the South Pacific, where there are much more entertaining things to do rather than read the Cohagen Chronicles.  Things like diving, fishing, drinking fruity rum drinks at 2 p.m....

Theory #3

     TOASTBA smarted off to the wrong WWF wrestler on the way through an airport and is still in a full body cast, unable to type, eating pureed meals through a straw.  (WWF is World Wrestling Federation, not Weight Watchers Flunkie, although they might be interchangeable sometimes.  Just thought I should clear that little acronym question up.)

Theory #4

     TOASTBA was abducted by aliens, an example cementing their long standing theory that there's no intelligent life on the planet Earth. 

Or...
And this is a thought...
TOASTBA grew bored with the Chronicles and moved on to Kim Kardashian's blog.
*sniffle*

What do YOU think?

Day 2: 20 Facts About Me

1.  My REAL middle name is Margaret.
2. I was named after both of my grandmothers: Inda MARY and MARGARET Francis.
3. My real name earned me the nickname "Sister Mary Margaret" in college.
4. I am not Catholic.
5. One of my favorite songs when I was 12 years old was Billy Joel's "Only The Good Die Young" about a Catholic girl.
6. I graduated in 1989 from Garfield County High School.
7. Because Garfield County is HU-MON-GOUS (4,848 square miles; 4 Rhode Islands could fit in that) and there was no bus route toward our house, I lived in a dormitory for all four years of high school.
8. I once shoveled beer cans with Cody Witt for Wayne Hunter to make some money one day after school.
9. I went to my first prom with Victor Ady, who told the English teacher Mr. White that he was going to prom with a girl named Dary Mutton who Mr. White thought was a girl from Circle, MT.
10. My first prom dress was yellow and I rented it.
11. The Murray boys taught some of us girls how to jitterbug in the basement of the dorm to George Strait's song "Unwound".
12. My major was Elementary/Special Education at Eastern Montana College.
13. I did my sophomore practicum with Sharon Reynolds (who had been a classmate of Torey Hayden, my literary and teaching hero at the time) at Beartooth Elementary in a classroom of severely handicapped students.
14. I took History of Rock and Roll to fulfill one of my art credits.  Yes, it's a glowing A on my transcript!
15. I was a Girl Scout and can still recite "I will do my best to serve God, my country, mankind and to live by the Girl Scout law."
16. I am addicted to coffee.
17. I bake without a timer...just go by smell, which is why I can't bake when I have a cold, no matter how desperately I need those medicinal gingersnaps!
18. I am still an alto and sing harmony always, which REALLY sounds horrible when I have my headphones on.
19. My shoe size is 8....and I ADORE shoes/boots/flip flops.
20. I don't have any tattoos. (This is sort of a big, un-cool confession from a child of the 80's!)

Couldn't find the Freshman prom yellow dress picture, so you get....

SHOES!!!

(If ONLY they grew on trees...*sigh*)

Introducing, Blog Challenge July 2013!

Weirdly, last year's blog challenge was held in July, too.  Thank goodness!  Can you imagine how boring a January blog challenge would be, the world through my lens at THAT point of the year??

*shudder*


Here's the official list:

Today is "Introduction and recent photo".

I was sort of fretting about this, since I seem to have contracted a butt kicking cold from those precious little Vacation Bible School/swimming lesson kids of the last two weeks.  

I can guarantee, no one wants to see a photo of me today.

My family is averting their gaze, for goodness sake, as they walk past to get their cup of dry breakfast cereal.

But then, I realized...it just says "recent photo".

NOTHING says it has to be a photo of ME.  

And "recent" is a rah-ther vague time frame, don't you think?

So, here you go....

A recent photo!

(I'm certain if you wanted to macro-magnify the photo, you could find my image in the wine glass.  Please don't waste your time.)

I'm doing this challenge with my friends Kim and Patricia, along with 10-12 other people Patricia has gathered up.  I know the Chronicles have been less than exciting, lately, so hopefully this will inject some energy into my writing and photography.  I've been feeling guilty about writing, thinking, always, that there's something more productive I could be doing with my time.  But here's the thing, my friends...

It's my journal and it's therapy.

(My readers like it because they figure out that they're actually quite sane and normal in comparison, so it's kind of "group therapy" although we don't really get together.)

I'll be gone for a few days on an Independence Day adventure with my family and friends, so I'm going to try to do some of those timed posts, where Blogger hangs on to the drafts until EXACTLY noon on each day, then publishes. We'll see if it works.  Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. 

If any of my blogger friends want to join us in this challenge, let me know and we'll tag you somehow in the group! (Honestly, I don't know who all is doing this....just that I need to.)

Stay tuned, folks...

Tomorrow is "20 Facts About You"

Me, not you. 

(The cold medicine helps me breathe, but does nothing for my cognitive functions that were diminished ANYWAY.)

Maggie

Last night at the wedding dance, my daughter made friends with a Chinese lady who speaks very little English, but shares the common language of smiles and hugs.

I watched her visit with the band, one by one, before the music started...and watched her tell them each goodbye and thank you before we left.  Do you know how hard it is to get to a drummer to give him a hug?

She danced with a guy with Down's Syndrome and complimented him on his style.  On the way home in the car, when we were trying to explain how his body got older but his mind really wouldn't, she said, "That's so cool."  and meant it.  It really WOULD be cool, when you think about it...to always enjoy life as a third grader might.  

When her dad was finally convinced to dance, she came over and patted him on the arm and said, "See, Dad!  You DO have rhythm!  It's just deep, deep, deep...deep inside."  

She found a little girl who was not from around here and who was feeling rather out of place, practiced swirly dance moves and they had a great time on the dance floor, just celebrating the music.  

This is the baby who almost wasn't...

the one who was a 20% chance of viability if both parents were young and healthy, which I wasn't...

the one whose heartbeat the doctor couldn't find at 12 weeks...but he didn't give up, because this one was a miracle that so many in that office were supporting and holding their breath over...

the one who had more ultra-sounds than the average bear, who I gave pints of blood tests for over the course of the pregnancy because the doctor didn't want to take chances; this one was special....

we had no idea.

She woke up just now and came wandering out, looking like a frazzled little daisy...

Needs chai tea and perhaps some cinnamon toast.

Maybe a big snuggle.

Every day is a gift with this child, 

every day an adventure in wonder, 

every day a lesson in outrageous love and hope.

Here's what's shaking in my garden in the middle of June...

Not EVERYTHING, just the stuff I find charming and lovely.

The Jodi rose, which looks very Photoshopped in pictures but really and truly IS that vibrant and brassy!  She doesn't have a great rose-y scent, but she is such a show off that I have to love her...almost like a junior high girl wearing too much makeup.  You know she's trying, but doesn't know when enough is enough.  There's tasteful and there's tart-y, but the poor dear hasn't made the distinction, yet. 

In June, even the dandelion heads are delightful in all their starriness.  Who knows the wishes blown from this sweet weed? (Did you know starriness isn't a word? Pshhh!)

T

And speaking of stars, my very favorite flower in all the world is columbine (aquilegia for the botanically correct).

My grandma's yellow roses, dripping in dew and rain...

I don't know who's reading this, but for my closest friends and family...please plant these yellow roses on my grave.  I think Heaven will be filled with them, so don't bother with the plastic flowers...tend the sentimental old yellows, instead, and look forward to eternity.

 This is NOT Forellenschluss!  It's some sort of red lettuce and I believe I'll make a salad this week with it.  Why make a regular old Romaine toss when one can have purple leaves with oranges and almonds?!

THIS is Forellenschluss, of course, Fontie!  And now we should go fishing, because spotted trout lettuce demands we do so in honor of the gorgeousness.

Peas with raindrops.
Can you SMELL the freshness?

And then we have baby onions! They're all spindly at this stage...again, junior high boys of the garden. 

Look in the background...do you see...?

BABY CARROTS! Fluttery, feathery baby carrots who are so lovely that one forgets the orange (or purple or red) goodness under the dirt!

I'm all entranced by the water on the clothes line with the Angus cow in the distance.  When I painted the poles and propane tank this shocking green, I know my in laws had kittens, but in the spring and summer, the hardscapes all but disappear in the green of the surrounding grass! The other astonishing thing is how the purple on the raised beds and benches has mellowed into more of a blue-y color and is completely subtle.  I don't know what possesses me to try these things, but some of them work and (accidentally) look brilliantly planned.  It's just serendipity, really.

I also know that the sun on the propane tank was a little unorthodox, but there are some things in my yard that I can't hide, so I may as well make them happy to look at.  You see our cat, Figaro, who is NOT IMPRESSED by the moisture.  It musses his fur and muddies his precious paws and causes him to mold around the whiskers.  Very annoying.

Maggie and Angus made me hanging planters at school for Mother's Day.  This is Maggie's and I love the peace signs and dianthus!  It's hanging on an old picket fence behind the herb bed.

Do you know what this is?

Honestly, until I grew it, I had no idea that spinach was beautiful.

And YUMMY.

(See the purple of the raised bed ledge underneath?)

Sara H. C.!!! 

I have a tomato!

After all the hail, one hardy plant survived and managed a fruit!!!

I'm going to get another couple plants from the greenhouse this week because today Maggie discovered the thrill of home made salsa, and we're going to have to kick it in high gear on tomato production.

Thank goodness we have mountains of cilantro...

And Flo, my flamingo garden angel from my friend J.

I think every garden should have a Flo, but most especially those who plant near a single wide trailer house.

Don't you?

The Un-Father's Day Greeting...

I always have a hard time finding Father's Day cards.

They all read like a Little House on the Prairie excerpt, words extolling the kind, strong, amazing men who raised us with our feet square on the ground and full of virtue.

I just can't bring myself to buy a Hallmark greeting for MY dad that talks about all that...

I want to find a Father's Day card that is more along the lines of:

"Happy Father's Day to the man who wasn't always there for me because he was working hard to make sure I had a roof over my head and boots on my feet.  Thanks for all the spankings, even the ones I didn't have coming because I know of a few times I should have gotten a swat and you winked instead. (Yes, I DO still remember the last spanking I got...we're good.) I appreciate that you let me see your flaws, that you showed me that you could screw up, too; it made it easier for me to share mine with you and ask for help.  I know there are times in your life that you're not all that proud of...I have those times, too.  I'm glad we are in better places now; it's probably sweeter because of the struggles, don't you think?  

I think you're a better dad now than you ever were when I was growing up. This is so good! It means you didn't just stay the same, that you grew and matured and learned grace. That gives me hope that I'll be a better mom for my kids someday, too.

Speaking of which, one of the best things you taught me was how to almost cuss when something goes wrong.  (I use it a lot, these days...)  "You low-down, no-good-for-nothing, dirty, rotten, counterfeiting...(censored after "counterfeiting")"  

You taught me how to make beans, mix a whiskey and Coke, tell a good story, saddle a horse, give great hugs, see the good in people, read a rain gauge, drive a vehicle (bless your heart, we both lived through THAT) and appreciate Waylon Jennings and J.R. Ewing. You showed me it was alright to cry over animals that are hurting, get mad about cars that won't start, be scared of rattlesnakes and cook without a recipe."

Thank you, Dad.

I love you!

Dear MaryBeth,

I've been on my hands and knees grubbing around in my flower beds, pulling weeds and trying to talk the roses into blooming because I'm weary of all the little blue spring flowers, lovely as they are.  (Flax, salvia and iris all bloom at the end of May.  I look out my window and there are only purple and blue flowers, very calming and elegant, of course, but my heart is just crying out for something yellow! Then, in July, the only things that bloom are yellow and I have to apologize to the blue flowers for taking them for granted...)

When I weed, I think.
And I remember.
And I worry and pray and solve world problems, although by the time I come in to have a drink and write down all my brilliant thoughts, they're gone...pppffft!...like balloons that got away from a birthday party.

Today, though, I was thinking about my friend Karen Yost who made the mistake one time of asking me to weed her daisy bed by the back door.  She really should have gotten my gardening history (none) before she set me to the task.

First, let me say that Karen is like a mom to me; she and her family opened the door and let me live with them for several summers when it became apparent that I, like a stray cat, was not going to leave so they may as well put me to some good use.  I was in my 20's, very lost in a way, and trying to grow up backwardly...life happens like that, sometimes.

Anyway, she showed me the flower bed, asked me to weed it and then went to innocently off to work in town.  I had absolutely no idea what was a weed and what was a flower, but I wanted to do a really good job because I cared so much for her, you know?  I worked on that bed all morning, in the hot sun, weeding my heart out!
And everything else.
When she got home, that was the CLEANEST flower bed you've ever seen.
There wasn't a speck of a green thing in it!
No weeds!
No daisies!
Nothing but dirt.

Now that I garden, I can only imagine how her heart must have just fallen in a big, sad puddle inside at the devastation of her flower bed.
In fact, I call her every year, now, and apologize for it.
EVERY YEAR!

Bless her heart, she told me that she'd been getting tired of the daisies and had wanted to put in something different there, anyway.  Like in Emma..."Daisies are such drab little flowers..."

I don't know if she replanted them or somehow I didn't pull everything out by the roots because the next year, the daisies were back with their happy little faces.  It wasn't until I started trying to grow them here at my own home that I knew how much she must have missed them!

Karen also introduced me to raspberries, but that's another story for another day...

I hope your little garden is doing well.  I love reading about it in your dad's blog!  Your mom says that you weed every day, so I know that we're probably weeding at the same time some days. (If you ever have someone help you, make SURE you interview them a little to find out if they can tell a bean plant from a weed...)

Love from Montana!
The Farmer's Wife

Easily Astonished

Some things blow my mind.

Do you realize that all music...ALL music...is made up of only 11 tones?  Mozart had the same things to work with as Paul McCartney as Willie Nelson as my daughter. Think about all the songs and tunes through time and culture....all of it from 11 tones.  

Telephones...

I know it has something to do with impulses through the wire, but seriously, do you ever stop to think of how many zillion impulses are being sent and not scrambled? AND that it still sounds like your voice when it gets to the other end! Cell phones are easier for me to comprehend than regular old wall phones.  

We have this secret code called "the alphabet" and with it, books are written, ideas sent to others, thoughts saved in hard form.  Twenty six letters...that's all we've got to work with.  Next time you pick up a magazine or book, think about the fact that we only have 26 letters to use in combinations! (I know.  Someone is going to send me the 26 squared information.  But STILL!)

I understand applying paint or pigment to canvas and other things, but I still, still, STILL am completely in awe at how someone could look at a big hunk of rock and with fairly primitive tools, create a 3D figure of a person like Michelangelo's David.  What kind of brain can DO that?  What outrageous gift of talent is THAT?  I can't even make Playdough look like a human! Or a cat.  Maybe a snake.

Don't get me started on the pyramids in Egypt...

Nearly every day, I find something that astonishes me to my toes...

Spider webs shouldn't work, but they do.

Microwaves...what's up with THAT, by the way?!

Yeast; it's alive, but it looks like it's just plain old cooking matter.  

Maybe this is why I don't really read a lot of fantasy or science fiction books...

Real life is already full of unbelievable, wonderful things!

(Side note, here: The kids and I just finished listening to A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L'Engle in which the characters tesseract, travel in the fifth dimension. It made my brain hurt, just trying to think about dimensions...time isn't really linear because it only goes one way.  Good GRIEF!  I'm still working on the idea of a phone made of string between two tin cans...)