A friends of mine is hosting a fashion challenge, and I thought it would be good for me to join up given my utter lack of fashion skillz. In high school, my entire wardrobe was furnished by Thrift and NONE of it matched, but I was prodigious proud of it.
When I met my husband, he remarked that my clothing was something he loved about me… my insane ability to wear pretty much whatever and pull it off. Once we were married, however, I became something of his pet. My husband -now this is his secret, so keep it. Won’tcha? -is remarkably good at dressing people. He can pick out a stellar outfit. He’s great with sizing and coloring and he’s all mine. I needed him desperately as a 20-year old. Thrift clothes that don’t match are fine and dandy for a teenager with a quirky sense of humor, but once that teenager marries (yes, I married as a 9TEEN year old) she needs to sort of mature out of the stage where she wears shirts that say “I dig boys in bands.”

My husband worked at a retail store, and using his discount he dressed me. By the time he left that job (2 1/2 years and one child later), I had a new wardrobe. It molded my style. While I still insist on wearing crazy clothes now and then, I’ve more or less tamed that unruly side of me that wore wrap-around red skirts with worn out cowboy hats.
Wow.
Just typing that made me REALLY miss high school.
Oh, look at that. Two seconds later: I’m over it.

Anyway, I figured the fashion challenge would be good for me. It’s ten days long. Rachelle -The Woman in Charge -has listed a bunch of cue cards. We pick a card a day and using some of the cues on it, dress accordingly. Today is the first day I’ve dressed naturally. I mean: something I’d actually wear out. The last two days have been rife with grown-up dress-up time. My daughter was my photographer the past two days. My husband was suckered into it today.
I paid my daughter a quarter for each shoot, and she hated every second of it. Poor little trooper.
I didn’t pay my husband.
He’s a slave for me.

Here’s the first three days.
Day one: Bohemian, titled “BOHO” for short. It makes me sound unnecessarily loose.

I’m wearing a peasant blouse with a flowy skirt and my turquoise necklace was my mom’s. She wore it to her 8th grade graduation. It’s one of my greatest treasures. AND it was one of my best fashion accessories in high school. I made it go with everything.

Day two: Man inspired. This day was definitely the most dressy-upped. I would never dress like this for realsies, so it was fun putting it together. Also: please pretend my head isn’t there. It’s the worst part of the picture. I should have taken my glasses off, but they kind of matched the tie a little too well.

Day three: Romance. Today isn’t dressy-upped at all. Today I’m going to leave the house like this and conquer the world. Or get the shopping done. Whichever.
Ruffled blouse, ballet flats, huge flower ring, and a free skirt (couldn’t leave that out. AND the skirt has pockets. Wonder of wonders! I’m just like a woman from the 40’s!).

If you haven’t guessed already, my jewelry is made by my aunt Cat. I’m really not big into jewelry (that isn’t from my mom’s teen years), but everything Cat makes… I HAVE to have. There’s an inherent need in me to OWN it.
Here’s some more of her creations. Look to the sidebar for her etsy shop. (If you scroll down, there a “love” necklace which I now own and wear and love.)

To browse through the other ladies’ outfits, click HERE.

I got a letter in the mail yesterday:

…from THE SCOOTER STORE.

I have NO IDEA how I got on THAT mailing list, but I do know this: they probably just thought I was old.

My favorite magazine is Lehman’s Product magazine. I love all of their products, American-made (sometimes Amish-made) and they all promote self-sustainability.

One of my favorite past times is crocheting my stress away.

I love to make my own everything: crackers, english muffins, bread, jam… and I like to do it from scratch.

I tend to buy old lady clothing and LOVE it. My husband has affectionately dubbed my style “old lady” and I honestly couldn’t be more pleased. My love of polyester knows no bounds.

I spend the day listening to classic country on Pandora, and I’d rather listen to old country than anything else.

I refuse to use text lingo such as “btw” and “idk” and “sa;oairwaenoaig;” and I think it somehow makes me the stuffy old English teacher who never smiles and smells like medical salve.

I’d rather wear a house dress than jeans.

I spend my laundry day watching black and whites. Turner Classic Movies is my favorite station.

So MAYBE just maybe… The Scooter Store is justified in sending me their mail. I’d better take the free mobility assessment they offered me, just in case.
I am all for self-sustainability on the cheap.

I’ve always believed that being near the soil is good for the soul.  I was raised to learn the value of hard work.  Now wait: that doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes retreat to my blankies and a good book once in a while because I do.  Obviously, I do.  But I know what it takes to make life work, and it’s work.  It’s as simple as that.

Call me conservative.

Please.

I came across this video today, and I wanted to share it with my Dad. Dad worked on Grandpa’s dairy for a long time, so I knew he’d appreciate it. But after I finished watching it, I wanted to share it with all of you because it touched me.
It’s about a Mormon, but that’s not what I loved. I loved his simplistic attitude -his easy smile. Most of all, I love that he can’t seem to be bothered with making a little movie because he’s got WORK to do.

Enjoy.
I’m off to take Loretta’s zucchini bread out of the oven and put another batch in.

I’ve been buried alive.

I’m coming up for air under a pile of papers that need filing, bills that need calling on (where are my mail order vitamins?!), errands that need running, tasks that need doing, peppers that need pickling… the list goes on.

You know what stinks? My creativity has been absolutely slapped upside the head. It’s being a downright pout about the whole thing and has taken refuge in the uppermost corner of my brain, vowing it will NEVER COME OUT! No matter how hard I beg.

It’s a sort of grief to me that I’ve cracked my Lappy open everyday since Friday and didn’t have ANYTHING to say. Even this morning, I stared at my computer screen and thought ‘Hell has frozen over.’

I went to the city this weekend with the grand idea that I’d buy you some glossing straightener and give it away, but I decided to spend the money on a piano book full of Johnny Cash songs instead, and I hated myself for it right up until the moment I sat down and cranked out “Ring of Fire.”
I’m not going to lie -THAT felt pretty darn good.

But I WISH… that I actually made a teensy bit of money doing this. Not much -not enough to even profit from it, by golly. Just enough to pay for my monthly fee of keeping it AND buy you products I love to GIVE to you. That’s all! I mean, I really wanted to buy you some glossing hair straightener, but it would have taken one month’s piano lesson earnings, and frankly: I wanted Johnny.

I don’t have any pictures to share with you, either. And after a weekend of the county fair, a small town football game, A BIRTHDAY (for shame), a massive Toy Story Cake, and entire DAY in the city… I’ve got nothing.

And that isn’t like me AT ALL. AT. ALL!

It isn’t as if I don’t have any fodder for posting. But my creativity, as I said, slammed the door on me.
Maybe it’s hearing my pleas. Maybe it will pop back up tomorrow.
As it is: I really have a bucket load of stuff to do, and I have to log off.
Here’s to a day of doing and a few Johnny Cash breaks.

What do you do the minute you start to feel cruddy?  I don’t know about you, but I start rifling through the herbs in my herb hoard.  I was surprised to come across this:

Something my husband had bought while away at training.  This stuff… is pure magic. Don’t take that to mean it’s pleasant. It’s definitely medicinal, and it gave me bad breath from sun up to sun down and then some. With 360 mg of garlic clove in it, it’s no wonder. The bottle asked me to take three twice a day, so I did. And you know what? I was flat on my back for one solid day, and today I’m only partially on my back! I’ll take it! I will TAKE that. Want to know why? I mean, aside from the obvious “I just want to feel good” part.
I have SO much to do!

This is my favorite time of year for several reasons:
Sunflowers
Candy Corn
Trent’s Birthday
Fresh Garden Produce
The County Fair
Football Games

The last four, by the way, are happening tomorrow. And guess what makes that even MORE awesome? I’ve got to somehow pry myself OFF the couch and into the shower and into some clothes and DO MY SHOPPING.
Today’s To-Do list looks something like this:

Clean Kitchen
Sterilize jars
Can Jalapenos
Go Shopping (preferably in the city because I need to find a way to make a Toy Story Cake AND I need Sam’s Club)
Clean the kids’ mattress. Again.
Plan our Sharing Time for Primary

Oh yeah, and cook meals. But that’s easy, right? No problem, right?

It will all work out. It will all be okay. Want to know why?

I have magic herbs.

AND I have the cutest son in the ENTIRE world who makes me want to absolutely do anything just to see him smile, even if it means tromping out-of-doors with my pockets filled with Kleenex and a few ounces of courage.

My life is usually so simple.
But today? The Country isn’t all it leads on to be… it’s secretly hectic.

Now if you’ll excuse me: my Amish baked oatmeal is just coming out of the oven, and it’s got my name on it. Literally. Tia actually had my name put on the pan I cooked it in.
Tia is awesome.

This isn’t my picture.
I copied it from a website where I could tell it had been copied from someone else, so I didn’t bother citing.

Anyway.

Wednesday is laundry day, and what a perfect timing. Can I sit on my couch and fold clothes while streaming movies all day long? Yes. THAT I can do.
If I rest enough and if the herbs I’m taking do their job, I’ll be back on my feet in time for the county fair and my son’s #3 birthday AND the football game against Mogollon.
Isn’t that this Friday?
In the meantime… *achoo!*

My Dad called me up last night and asked if the kids would like to come up and watch “Roger Ramjet.”

I told him I had never heard of it.
Have you?

Dad sang the theme song for me which, while entertaining, didn’t clue me in at all… I had never heard of it. After the kids cleaned their room, we headed up to watch.
We all laughed so hard -the humor in it is classic.

In the middle of the show, the girl was asked to take off her Grandpa’s boots. This might seem insignificant to you, but to US -those of us raised under Dad’s roof -it really means something. Dad used to pay us a quarter a boot to take his boots off. Now we’ve jumped a generation.

And due to inflation, the laborer now gets $1 a boot.
It’s hard work… not to be taken lightly. If done right, it can exhaust you!

Now go pop a proton pill and fight some crooks!
My daily crooks today are disguised as laundry, dishes, a dirty floor, and a basin full of jalapeno peppers waiting to be canned.

As my husband and I walked out of the movie theater Saturday night, we had a lot to talk about. “The Help” is the kind of movie that stays with you and gets you thinking. It teaches while it entertains. As we walked through the parking lot and made our way back to the Bed and Breakfast, my husband talked about racism. I talked about the housewives.

(image via movies.zap2it.com)

The housewives were all so “perfect.” Their hair was always in place, their clothes were always perfectly worn and perfectly accessorized. Their houses were clean and they always had food on the table.
And YET.
All I had to say about them was how dysfunctional they were! Their attitudes -their actions and behaviors were so far from healthy.
So WHY do I hold myself to their standards every single day?
Why do I hold myself to the standards of dysfunctional women who look gorgeous every single day but don’t clean their own house, raise their own children, or cook food for their family?
They had a maid, for crying out loud! And I spend every day carrying guilt when I don’t somehow meet up to their standards. Isn’t that ridiculous? It is -but I’m sure I’m not the only one.
There have been a few glorious days when I’ve looked smashing, cooked smashing food, and cleaned my house like there was no tomorrow.
And at the end of the day, there was NOTHING left of me. My husband came home to what I thought was his (and my) ideal, and there was nothing for him but some tasty food (which, let’s face it, only goes so far).
And so I laughed at myself, heartily, as we drove back to our room.
Do you know what? I’m a terrible housekeeper, but I’m a good cook. I’m lousy at prioritizing, but I’m a good mom. I don’t look perfect every day, but I get my make-up on most days.
And isn’t THAT the ideal: a tricky sort of balance between what I can and can’t do? Truth be told, I could really use a cleaning lady, but I’ll get by for now. I’m not terrible at it, you know. It’s just that there’s 3 of them and one of me.
It won’t always be like that.
Someday there will be four of them and one of me. Ha!

All I’m trying to say is: ease up on yourself today. Stare your limits in the face and then give them a great, big hug. We are not all made to be perfect. We’re made to help each other on the road TO perfection, and what could be better than that?
Nothing.
Not even a sparkling clean house, freshly manicured nails, and a fresh peach pie on the table.

Two years ago, I wrote a post for our 5 year anniversary on my now-private blog.  I’m going to re-post it and add to it tonight, and then I’m going to go pack for my weekend whisk-away (which sounds much more delicious than get-away).

Enjoy, loves.

2004-2005
The Green Glass Love

“Now in this case, my dear, I truly do prefer emeralds. But we could have made it on green glass.”
Muzzie in Thoroughly Modern Millie

There is a scene in Thoroughly Modern Mille when Muzzie tells Millie that when she became engaged to Mr. Van-H, she had no idea he was multi-millionaire (she really hadn’t). One night he gave her a green glass broach. She lent to broach to a friend who wanted to impress a new beau. The beau turned out to be a jeweler and the green glass turned out to be emeralds.
For the first year of our marriage, Danny and I developed a beautiful Green Glass Love. We didn’t have a lick of cash, and we tried to care. But we didn’t. Not really. So many people told us that the first year would be the hardest. If that’s true, it’s more than safe to say that our marriage will be ridonkulously easy.

2005-2006
The Movie Rentals

Joe Fox: You know, sometimes I wonder…
Kathleen Kelly: What?
Joe Fox: Well… if I hadn’t been Fox Books and you hadn’t been The Shop Around the Corner, and you and I had just, well… met…
Kathleen Kelly: I know.
Joe Fox: Yeah. I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, “Hey, how about… oh, how about some coffee or, you know, drinks or dinner or a movie… for as long as we both shall live?”
Kathleen Kelly: Joe…
Joe Fox: And you and I would have never been at war. And the only thing we’d fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night.
Kathleen Kelly: Well, who fights about that?
Joe Fox: Well, some people. Not us.
Kathleen Kelly: We would never. 
You’ve Got Mail
The second year of our marriage, we spent our spare time wrapped in each other’s arms watching rented movies. We lived for it, which is a little sad and also a little wonderful. On days when we really just want to spend a little time together, we wander to a near-by movie rental store and rent our hearts out. If we can’t agree on a movie, we browse the westerns and inevitably come out with something we both want. Yee haw.

2006-2007
The Loss That Brought More Than It Took

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”
Charlotte Lucas, Pride and Prejudice

It might seem silly to someone who has never miscarried to mark an entire year of marriage by it. But our second and third year of marriage was spent hoping for a baby. When we lost the baby, our love for each other deepened and our desire to have a baby grew enormously. Danny wanted so badly to take the hurt away. It was a hard time for both of us (the day after I miscarried, Danny had double hernia surgery) but we look back on the week after we lost the baby as one of the best in our marriage. During that week, I gave him a card that read: I love doing nothing with you.
And while we have grown apart is some silly ways, we have grown together in deeper ways.
Maybe he doesn’t want to hold my hand all the time anymore but it doesn’t matter. He literally puts his life on the line everyday for me and our children. I’ll take that over hand-holding any day.

2007-2008
The New Parents

“Before a man marries, he’s … like a tree in the forest. He stands there independent; An entity unto himself. Then he’s chopped down, loses his branches and bark. Lands in the river. Then he’s taken to the mill. When he comes out, he’s no longer a tree. He’s the vanity table, the breakfast nook, the baby crib, and the newspaper that lines the garbage can.”
Brad Allen, Pillow Talk
Lacy was born is 2007, and Trent was born in 2008. Somewhere between the two, Danny became the baby crib and the newspaper that lines the garbage can. And you know what? He’s never been happier to do anything in his life. For he’s a Jolly Good Fellow. And for that, I thank him so profusely it’s almost obnoxious.

2008-2009
Remembering What Was

 

“I want a guy I can look up to and admire. But I don’t want him to browbeat me. I want a guy who’ll be sweet with me but I don’t want him to baby me either. I just want to feel that whoever I marry has some real regard for me, aside from all that lovin’ stuff.”
Marilyn Monroe, Bus Stop
Today marks our five year anniversary, and this quote sums up my feelings perfectly. I treasure all of the hand holding, constant snuggling, note-writing, and romantic husband I knew for four years. He’s changed. And I’ve changed. And I’m excited about where we are now. We’re comfortable. We’re secure.
I never thought the man I married could get any better, but he has.
To me, he is everything.
I hope he knows that.
Happy Fifth Anniversary, Mister.
When I say “I love you” now, it means so much more than it did five years ago.
Though it sounds the same, it feels mighty different.

 

2009-2010
The Year of the Schedule

Aunt Josephine: Make a little room in your plans for romance again, Anne, girl. All the degrees and scholarships in the world can’t make up for the lack of it.
Anne of Green Gables Series

With one kid on my hip and one kid at my side, it sure wasn’t easy to remind my husband of the girl he married. Strange how when it’s hard to make time for love, you need it more than ever. It’s always been important to us to get at least one weekend away a year. By tradition, that weekend has always been our anniversary. Would the money we spend on our annual trip be better spent somewhere else? No. No way. Not for us. For us, it is VITAL. Last year, we got away twice. Two weekends away, just the two of us. And when my cell phone is off, my computer is as home, the kids are under the care of someone else entirely trustworthy, I can spend a little time talking to my husband. I can spend time curling my hair and applying my make-up carefully. There’s no flour my jeans and there’s no bag of garbage by the door waiting to be taken out. In fact, reality is somewhere far, far away. And per tradition, we make time to just be in love.

2010-2011
The Hardy Years

Aunt Eller: Oh, lots of things happen to folks. Sickness or being poor and hungry, being old and a feared to die. That’s the way it is, cradle to grave, and you can stand it. There’s just one way: you gotta be hardy. You gotta be. You can’t deserve the sweet and tender in life unless’n you’re tough.
Oklahoma!
Our marriage isn’t perfect. Our marriage isn’t easy. But oh how I love it.
Oh how I love him.
I guess I wouldn’t know how good we had it unless I knew how bad we had it sometimes. And so we bravely step into the unknown and infamous 7th year -the year that is supposed to be one of the hardest.
Here’s to being hardy.
Here’s to being married.
Here’s to a good whisk-away!

I love you, Brother Deets. You always have a way of driving me crazy in so many ways it’s downright wonderful.

There’s been a few times in my life when someone will confide in me that a certain song helped to carry them through a difficult time in their life. Though music has always had a profound influence in my life -indeed, it was my college major and practically consumed me -I’ve never really had that experience.
I’d been touched my music -moved my music.
But I’d never been pulled through by it.

I felt a little cheated, in a way. I felt like of ALL people, I should. I mean, I’d taken private music lessons for a few years, majored in music and let it figuratively EAT MY HEAD off. I’d stared at chords, spent hours on one page of music, memorized measures, marched in a marching band, tapped my foot incessantly while counting beats, learned to conduct, learned to analyze, spent annoying amounts of money on camps, sheet music, instrument repair…
and I had no life line song to show for it.

I know that line of thinking is ridiculous. Did I go through all of that JUST to have a song to cling to? Of course not. I did to find a husband!
Okay, that’s not true.
But it did happen.

I guess I just felt a little… what’s the word… robotic about music. Three years of counting and schooling had virtually pulled the emotion out of it for me.

Anyway, I guess I had never had anything really HAPPEN to me -nothing that I needed pulled out of, really. Whenever I’d had a hard go of anything, I had always just pulled myself out.

But life has a way of foiling you. It has a way of challenging you -throwing you down to your knees (whether it’s because you’re too weak to stand or because you’re praying your heart out. Or both. Usually both in my case).

As a younger girl, I sat with my Dad and watched a movie on television.
It was called “Coal Miner’s Daughter” and it told the story of a woman named Loretta Lynn. I’d never heard of her before, and after watching the movie I couldn’t believe I never had. I don’t remember the movie much at all -but I remember how the movie made me feel, and as a result I’ve been a real fan of Loretta’s music since then.
Recently, I’ve spent more time delving into her music.

A few of her songs touch me pointedly -but it’s her, really. It’s her.
She looks like she could be anyone’s neighbor in town, and she sings like it too.

She was born in 1935 -during The Great Depression. She was married very very young (some say 13, some say 14) to a 21-year old army vet. By the time she was 19, she had four kids. Her husband wasn’t a grade-A gentleman by any means. Between his alcoholism and (what I like to call) chain cheating, Loretta had a lot to deal with.

And that’s exactly what I love about her.

Have you ever seen her smile? It lights up her entire face, and there’s LIFE behind it. Could she have shriveled up as a victim? Yes! Would anyone have judged her? Not in the least.
But she didn’t. She didn’t leave her husband. She even went so far as to say, “he never hit me one time that I didn’t hit him back twice”.
That’s what I love about her. NOT that she hits, but that she’s strong. She didn’t wilt before her husband -she stood up for herself constantly.
When you look at her, do you see a victim? A survivor? A martyr?

Absolutely not. Though the terms might apply, they don’t define her. What defines her?
She’s a real woman -unafraid, strong, and funny.
Her songs are full of humor that both gets to the point and makes you laugh.

She took the actions of another and used them to fuel her inspiration when she could have easily used them as a crutch.
She kept her humor. She kept her faith. She kept true to herself.
And she sang songs that sometimes get me through the day.
This one, written by Shel Silverstein, is one of my favorites. Someday when I get pregnant again, I’ll strap on a guitar, balance it on my belly and sing it.

As a fun side note: when she was 24 (and had all those kiddos), her husband bought her a guitar. She taught herself to play and went on to top the charts time after time.

Turns out our Daddies were both 6’3″.

And the best news of all? She has a cookbook. She titled it “You’re Cookin’ It Country” (a play on one of her chart toppers “You’re Lookin’ at Country”).
It’s going in my Amazon cart to-day.