Last night as I stood in a parking lot 2 1/2 hours after I had adamantly planned to leave a surprise party, my friend Kalle told me I never blog so I said "Fine then watch me, I'm going to write one tomorrow." So I sat down to write this morning and found this one I started 7 months ago and never posted so I think this counts...
Just ask my husband and he'll tell you my favorite food is butter and my favorite word is sphincter. I can throw back some Kerrygold and inappropriately throw "sphincter" in just about any conversation. However, that's not what I'm here to discuss. I want to semi talk about birthdays. I love getting older. I have never understood why some are ashamed of their age. I'm going to always be proud no matter what decade. With each year I gain wisdom and yet I still feel as young and immature as a prepubescent 8 year old boy. I plan on feeling this way until the day it all ends for me. My husband reminded me on my 36th birthday that I always said I was going to die young and now I can't say that anymore. At my funeral I always pictured the people in the pews whispering to each other "But she was so young" and "What a shame, she had her whole life ahead of her." But alas, I made it another year and now I'll have to come up with new dialogue for my funeral attendees. Having said this, every year is a gift and I am grateful God has given me one more year to be a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and psychopath.
Having a 17 year old exchange student has really shown my husband and I how out of touch we are with today's youth but makes me appreciate the stage of life we are in. These days nothing turns me on more then when Julius and I whisper things early in the evening to each other about the things that we want to do with each other that night. One may say "I can't wait to get you upstairs, put on some cozy clothes make Sleepytime detox tea and read together" I also in my stage of life appreciate nothing more than a good walk. Like take me on a walk and I am your forever friend. When we eat out we prefer to go out around where we live so we can walk to and fro dinner. On my birthday we were going to a restaurant 2 1/2 miles away and Julius asked if I wanted to walk. You would have thought I won the lottery because of the joy that ensued. Not just because that would mean I'd have to wear comfy shoes and casual clothes, but because it would also aid in digestion and in balancing the insulin levels.
About 7 months ago we got a puppy named Chips. I mainly wanted a dog for the nights we ate rice so he could clean the floors up after the kids but also for a running/walking partner. My love for him is very conditional and I spend the better part of the day verbally abusing him in a loving voice. He does fulfill the role of a walking partner and on my birthday we were able to walk together and listen to my usual podcasts on health and nutrition. The day before my birthday Chips killed one of our chickens. It was the first time he'd actually gone through with it. He likes to chase them but he's never ripped one open as he did this one. It all took place on the driveway. Nobody took it upon themselves to clean it up so it stayed there the rest of the day(I did have thoughts about making bone broth with it's remains). In the morning Julius said he heard the coyotes going crazy last night and when we looked the chicken was gone from our driveway. I was relieved they got rid of it. I went in Hazels room and opened the blinds and gasped as I saw the corpse of the chicken in front of my face on the basketball court and Chips proudly staring at me like a cat who has brought his master a mouse. The day went on and again nobody took it upon them self to dispose of it. Later that day the boys and I played a few games of knockout and the chicken lay in the middle of our game. Benny who had cried the day before because it was his hen who lost her life, was completely unfazed as we played around the deceased creature. My 5 year old daughter had a friend over that same day and as they stood examining the dead hen I heard her friend say "My mom once told me that this chicken is the same kind of chicken that we eat" To which Hazel responded " She was lying to you" And then it all made sense that she doesn't know the chickens we eat and chicken we raise our the same creatures.
Anyway, our little homestead is a good place to toughen up children in preparation for the hardships of the real world. One of my favorite times was watching Hazel play with the squirrel we watched fall from a tree to it's death. After researching that squirrels rarely carry rabies I deemed it safe as a toy. Until later I felt something on my leg and realized that scratching sensation was from the stiff leg and nails from the squirrel. I snapped and then called a mandatory nap for the squirrel and chucked it behind the garden garage and sanitized hands and leg. Anyway, I always thought I hated animals but deep down I love them, especially watching them in their natural environments. They all have a purpose and they know their roles. It's really such a beautiful thing to watch what God has orchestrated in His creation. Oh and then there's the role of the dog. To destroy the packages that the USPS drops by your front door at Christmas time. Only to realize the package was dropped at the wrong house and it belonged on the street behind you.
Dreams really do come true.
I'm not sure if the squirrel lived a better life in living and breathing or in its death.
In the words of Billy Joel, "Only the good die young"
I suppose I will live forever.
