It's been awhile

If you haven't noticed, it's been awhile since I've updated my blog. I promise that I'm not turning into one of those random posters that only post a blog once every three months. In case you didn't figure out the reason behind my sudden hiatus I will shed some dim light on the subject for you. Losing Daisy was very hard for me. It's still difficult for me to think of her as gone. I have trouble visiting my parents' house where she lived without awakening that achy pain in my heart. But life goes on and so must my blog. The reason I couldn't blog was simple. How do you follow a post like that with something as chipper and cheerful as a picture of my crazy cats or the antics of my children? It just didn't feel right. I had to take my time to mourn for my loss and though that time is far from over, I'm ready to move on...in the internet realm at least. So I'm back. I also hope to update my Weekly Creature Feature blog again this week. So here's hoping for that. Tomorrow I'll fill everyone in on the happenings of Josh's new job and the craziness that was this past couple of weeks. And yes. You read that right. He got a job. Is it temporary? Is it permanent? Is it good? Is it bad? Who knows. For now, thank you to everyone who prayed for me recently and for those that prayed for Josh and his job situation (or lack of one). We greatly appreciate the support. Until tomorrow.

Sorry all...

I'll be back to blogging next week.

Farewell My Friend

The last photo of me and Daisy. February 13th, 2011

Twenty-one years ago, my mom and dad led me outside to show me one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. Standing there in front of my young eyes was the most beautiful Jersey calf in the world. I named her Daisy. It was love at first sight and I never looked back. As Daisy and I grew together, our bond grew and our love for each other grew equally. I never have and may never again love an animal more than I loved her. You could ask anyone and know that she and I were quite the pair. She trusted me with her life on more than one occasion and the roles were reversed a number of times. She became a part of my soul. Not very many people get to say that and others find it impossible to believe that such a thing is possible. I remember coming home from college and my mom telling me that Daisy would always, incredibly enough, know that I was coming home. I made a promise to her that I would always be there for her and somehow, though it may seem strange, she was always there for me when I needed her the most. She was my first and oldest friend. Together we've conquered dairy shows, births and calves, milk fever, illnesses, and what the vets believed to be cancer. She almost died in my arms when she was diagnosed but the vets chalked it up to a miracle when she made a full recovery over night. I've been dreaming of the day when I can take her with me to land of my own so I can once more wake up to see her beautiful brown eyes waiting for me at the gate every morning. Though I despise it, life had other plans.

Age, it seems, finally caught up with Daisy. Twenty-one years for a cow is a feat in itself. Though I have tried every resource to keep Daisy gaining weight and healthy, you simply can't fight against the one thing that will inevitably get to us all. Time. In the last few years she has lost all of her teeth, become half blind, half deaf and arthritic. Before this winter, I had finally found a way to get her to gain weight and she bravely fought through the cold, shivering the whole way. For the harshest of days recently, she has spent her time separated from her daughters Duchess and Bridgette in hopes of keeping her sheltered from the bitter winds of our worst winter. This past Saturday I took the kids over to my folks house where they've kept her for me all these years. I went over to drop a bag of her feed off and left with dread in my heart. The kids, as they so often do, helped with chores. When we went to feed Daisy something was wrong. I could feel it in my heart. For the first time since her brush with death twelve years ago, Daisy wouldn't eat. A wave overtook me as I watched her look into my eyes. I sat there alone with her and I could hear in her heart what she wanted. She wanted to go back into the pasture with her daughters. I couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to say goodbye. I opened her gate and walked with her to the pasture. A trace of hope teased at the corner of my mind when I saw her eat a small amount of food with Duchess and Bridgette. It was a fool's hope and I knew it. But as anyone faced with tragedy does, they look for any shred of that silver lining they seek. The next morning I woke up with the feeling of dread closing in on me. I knew something was wrong and when I called my mom to see if Daisy was ok, she said no. Daisy was having trouble getting around and not eating. The dread closed in and it took all my strength to not fall to my knees and cry in front of my children. The decision that no pet owner wants to make was about to be made.

It was time.

I left the kids with Josh. His parents were coming to visit so I knew they would have fun. The vet was called and I was reassured that she would suffer if she starved to death. He would be out at 3:00 to put her down. I got out of the car and attempted to walk through the metaphorical tar pit that seemed to separate me and my friend. Every step was harder and when I reached her, I pulled up an old bale of hay to sit with her. I talked to her. I cried with her. Maybe the tears from her eyes were simply from the bright morning sun, but it felt like they meant more. She was so tired. It hurt her joints to lay down so I held her head and she fell asleep in my arms for fifteen minute naps off and on. Her breathing was so slow that I knew her heart was beating against the clock. The time was almost near and she heard her daughters mooing. They weren't too far away, but I knew for her old legs it would be a challenge. I got up and we walked to them together - as friends.

I thought that when the vet came that I could hold myself together but the fractures couldn't withstand the terrible pressure and I crumbled. My mom and Daisy's vet of all her twenty-one years asked me to leave so I wouldn't see Daisy fall. But I made a promise to her. I promised that I would be there...until her very last heart beat. I sobbed as I held her and told her I was there for her and that I loved her. I tumbled with her as she fell and took her last breath. I don't remember how long I sat with her and covered her now empty eyes with my hand, but it is a moment I will never forget. She was gone.

As I sit here crying over my keyboard, I ask myself if I did the right thing...if there was anything else I could have done. But in my heart, I know that she's better now. For I do believe that God takes them home when our time to care for them is done. Daisy was my friend. God blessed me with her and gave me twenty-one years to know her love and love her in return and for this I am thankful. She's gone to join the Lord's herd in the forever green pastures. Though I will miss my Daisy Mae, I'm reassured in knowing she's no longer hurting.

Farewell my old friend. You're home now.

Winter Fun 2011...er...round 2

It snowed. Again. Joy. I am really tired of winter and the pains that seem to trail along in its wake. The bunnies have spent days and nights hunkering down in our house to escape the subzero temps and I can't seem to wipe away the lingering odor of rabbit urine that seems to plague my vacant sun room. Not that it's a huge deal as it's too cold to actually utilize the sun room. No heat in there, you know. So it snowed quite a few days ago and much to the kids' dismay, it was simply too cold to actually go outside and enjoy the snow. Days passed leaving the snow untouched. There were a few random trails of squirrel paw prints where they tried to go for a walk then (according to the trails they left) turned tail and returned back to the safety of the trees. However, we did get to go outside today and enjoy the fluffy white stuff for what I'm hoping to be the last time this winter. Sunny days are in the forecast for us. Of course, we enjoyed the snow in an entirely unexpected way this time around. My sister-in-law told me they made snow ice cream with their last snow and on the words 'ice cream' my interest was obviously peaked and I began to salivate like Pavlov's dog. As I am an ice cream junkie, I had to give this recipe a whirl. I told my mom about it and she reminisced back to when she was a young girl and her mother would make this glorious stuff. At first I couldn't imagine it being good but when I ate the first bite, I ate another. Then I ate a whole bowl. Then I ate two more bowls just for good measure. It tasted just like homemade ice cream and I even made it with soy milk for the kids. It was so delicious that I made it twice. Of course, I also suffered from a major sugar high, but it was totally worth it. I just can't believe that my mother never shared this little recipe with me in all my 32 years. If you've never made it, then next snow...do it. Totally worth it. And best of all, it's free! I put a big clean bowl outside and when it was filled with snow, I mixed 1/2 cup of soy milk, 1 teaspoon of vanilla, and 1/4 cup of sugar. You add that to the snow and mix. Add milk and sugar if it needs it to make it sweeter or the right consistency. Equally easy and awesome. I made three flavors. Mmm...Neapolitan.

We went outside today to build more snow men. In my case, I decided to go for a snow hippo. Yup. A hippo. Cool, huh? I went out to feed the bunnies tonight and noticed that it was even cooler looking at night. I hope you all enjoy the warmer weather if you're lucky enough to be getting it this week. Here's hoping this is the last snow creature of the season.

Victory is a Gummy Worm

Today marks the day when diapers begin to fade away into the past. Even though Abby has been doing so well with potty training, today makes it official. She did the big one. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Cleaning up pee out of underwear is no big deal. Cleaning the other? Well, let's just say that I'm not a fan. I explained to miss Abby that it's either diaper or potty because taking afternoon baths just don't make my day (or hers) any easier. I promised her about three weeks ago that she could have a fun reward for any number twos in the potty. She picked out none other than the glorious sugary treat of gummy worms. For the first week I promised one gummy worm, but after multiple accidents I upped the reward to two gummy worms. It wasn't working. Just when I was about to up the ante to three whole worms and when all hope seemed lost, she surprised us all (including herself) by...well...oh heck. I'm just gonna say it. She pooped in the potty! To anyone out there without kids, this may be on the line of over sharing, but to a proud parent, this is epic. I mean huge! Massive! She picked out her two gummy worms and danced around the house with pure pride and joy. I kid you not...I danced with her. It was a good day. Victory truly is a gummy worm.

Confession

I have a little secret. Up until this moment, I have been hesitant to share my awful little secret with the world. Well, the blogging world, really. I suppose today is no different than most with the one difference being that I have nothing new or exciting happening in my life that could hold the interest of even the most bored individuals. Are you ready for this? And the secret of the day is...(cue dramatic music)...

I wrote a book. There. I said it. I've officially outed myself from the author's closet. I'm a writer and I'm not ashamed! *whew* That was harder than I thought it would be.

So why all the secrecy, you might ask? It's a bit more complex in my head than it will actually appear as I completely out myself. I've always had interesting stories in my head that I would have loved to jot down on paper. I tried a few times, but never got very far. A year or two ago I was throwing around an idea that I had tinkered with right out of college. The story grew in my mind and eventually consumed my waking (and sometimes sleeping) thoughts. After countless nights of staying up until 2:00 in the morning, I had in my hand, a completed book. Needless to say, I've been hesitant to shout out my accomplishment to the world. Oh heck, I was as proud as a peacock. The main problem with telling anyone about this little hobby is this: You walk up to someone and say, "Hey guess what? I wrote a book." Responses may vary, but in the most part the reactions go one of two ways. First, you have the typical doting family member or friend with delusions of grandeur. These people (mostly family I've found) are quick to put you on a pedestal and project their own dreams of fame and fortune upon you. In their eyes, the book could never fail and will inevitably become the next 'big one' of our time. They assume you'll be the next J.K. Rowling. These people, though filled with good intent, are your delusional supporters. Secondly, you have the more realistic but severely disappointing response. They roll their eyes and assume you are just another drone in the masses who actually thinks they can write. They assume, in actuality, that you are just as good a writer as you are a trapeze artist. (This is of course, unless you actually are a trapeze artist.) They don't take you seriously at all. These people are your skeptics. Oh sure, there are those in between the lines, muddled into the shades of gray. These are the ones that I call 'polite'. They don't knock your book, but they don't build it up too. I prefer the shades of gray.

Here's the truth. I've been researching the publishing world. It's a mad, crazy world where caution is thrown into the wind one day and dreams are crushed into a fine pulp the next. It's a vicious cycle of blindly putting yourself out there only to be kicked out the door into the mud while doing so. I have been attempting to get an agent and let me just tell you that each denial letter you get is equally frustrating and increasingly disappointing. Do I believe I will get published? I'd like to say yes right now. And if I had my trusty golden protocol droid standing here he'd say:
I can't help but to hope that Threepio is wrong. But the deeper I dig into the writing community, the more I fear my dear golden buddy here is right. Sorry about the Star Wars reference. Writer or not, I'm still just a geek. For now, I'll leave you to chew on my unexpected announcement. Whether your rolling your eyes or signing up for my fantasy fan club, I hope you wish me luck. I'm not looking for fame and fortune. I'm just hoping for a partial manuscript request. If fame and fortune follow, I'm probably dreaming.

Winter Fun 2011

Waaaaaay back when I was a kid, I remember going outside into the fluffy white snow and dreaming up as many things as I could and then attempt with a valiant effort to create these things with the snow. Snowmen are fun and all, but who doesn't like a snow horse or a snow dragon? I mean, seriously, Frosty has to ride into town on something and what better way than a frosty horse? Well, I did create a snow horse back in the day and it turned out okay. I remember spending forever outside sculpting that thing and when it was complete I stood back in awe at what I'd made. Now...many years later...I tried my hand at a snow horse once more and I'm happy to say that four and a half years of art classes must have helped me in the snow sculpture area. Okay. So snow isn't a medium you work with in college, but still. Details. Isn't she cute?

Abby stood by me the whole time asking, "Is it done yet? Can I ride him?" over and over and over again. I just wish my nieces (Lauren, Linsey and Kate) could have been here to enjoy this. they do so love horses.

We all bundled up to go outside and play in the snow and we worked so hard that we couldn't even keep our hats on because it got so toasty. Josh decided to perfect his rudimentary survival skills to build a new home out of the elements in the event that we need a new place to live after the endless months of unemployment. (I'm just kidding people.)

Needless to say, we all had a blast outside. Then we piled back in the house for some fresh no-bake cookies and orange juice. Perfect winter day, I'd say.

Defining Success

This week I discovered what the true meaning of success is. For all these long years I've measured success in terms of what you have gained and accomplished in your own life. I went to college and got a degree that now sits gathering dust on a lone bookshelf somewhere in the rubble of my house. I've tried and failed at various things while succeeding in other areas. I've watched my husband become more frustrated as he stands stagnant in his ever failing career in hopes of the tiniest gleam of success. I suppose this is the part when I tell you that success isn't measured by what you have but what you do with it. Nope! Not even a chance. You're about to hear the cheesiest definition you've ever heard. Success is none other than a potty trained child. Abby has wore underwear all week and is becoming increasingly wonderful at it. To see a child grow and learn to do something as simple as peeing on a potty is the most rewarding kind of success out there. Okay, so maybe a good career and education is important too. But you can't go to school if you don't know how to use the toilet. And I'm fairly certain that going to work in a diaper just wouldn't settle well with your co-workers. So let's face it. Potty training is the first step to success. I'm just so proud. Yay for Abby!

S-s-s-so C-c-c-cold......

It's cold here. Not just a little cold. Rather, it's the kind of cold that when you slip your gloves off for five seconds to get a better grip on something, you can feel the bitter bite of the air slicing into your vulnerable flesh. Along with a good part of the country, we were in blizzard conditions today. Not cool. So how do we spend our days sheltering ourselves from the massive blizzard happening outside? Let's just say it was a long day. It all started out this morning when Josh left for class. Yes. It's true. Every school in the state was closed but my husband's pile of dung union decided that they should all risk their lives to go to class. So at 5:00 a.m. I woke up with him to help get his lunch ready to make his morning just a tad easier. He shivered out the door at 5:45 and I jumped back in bed to get all toasty warm again. I said a prayer for Josh and then zonked back out. At 8:15 (kiddos slept in today) I hear the phone ring. It was the kind of moment where you think you are dreaming and then realize in a sudden wave of panic that the sound you are hearing is in fact quite real. My eyes burst open and I blindly (I have horrible vision w/o glasses) jumped out of bed only to find that my leg had somehow decided to stop working. As my foot fell on the ground I heard and felt a loud cracking sound. I believe that at this point I actually said outloud, "That's not good," as I collapsed to the floor. Thinking that this stumble was some freakish fluke and that Josh was on the phone in some horrendous car wreck, I attempted to get back up only to find that once again, my leg was not working. I couldn't feel my leg or foot in the slightest bit. In my state of confusion and still not dealing with a fully functioning brain, I couldn't understand why my blasted leg wouldn't move. The phone stopped ringing and I realized that my head had started to hurt because in my most graceful stumble, I had whacked it on the metal bed frame. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and came to understand that my leg had somehow fallen asleep when I was zonked out. Could someone explain how that happens because it makes no sense to me? Anyhow, I dragged my injured body to the phone and discovered that it was my mother-in-law on the message calling to tell me that they were getting bombarded with snow. It wasn't Josh, meaning that he was safe and sound, and so I climbed back into bed to tend my leg. As the feeling came back I realized that the cracking sound was probably just my old joints arguing with the sudden leap of confusion and the worst I suffered was a yucky sprain and a couple of bumps. The kids got up and burst into the bedroom, bringing their appetites with them so I limped off into the kitchen to whip up their first breakfast. I have hobbits, remember? I spent the day pulling the kids off of each other from the numerous, what I like to call "boredom fights". We watched a lot of movies and in between the hours I went out to shovel the two-foot high snow drifts out of our garage-like structure only to resprain my ankle again after a poorly judged jump into a snow drift. I also attempted to keep the bunnies from freezing to death. Turns out that it's just too dang cold to do much of anything. It's so cold that I broke down and brought the bunnies inside. Pickles and Nacho are now hunkering down in the sunroom.

It's still pretty cold in there, but easily 20 degrees warmer than outside and 30-40 degrees warmer than that nasty wind chill. They say that rabbits can't handle dramatic temperature shifts so I decided to not bring them into the heated part of the house. Oh, those darn bunnies have a cozy little hay filled box to climb into, but when I limped outside to go give them round two of the fresh unfrozen water, I found them stupidly sitting in the six inch open gap each with at least one inch of snow covering them. I slapped myself on the forehead and wondered what was going through their mind. As the wind chill is to dip to a dangerous level tonight, I gathered them up and fixed up a place in the sunroom. Crazy rabbits. The kids couldn't have been more excited to have them in the house. Here are my crazy kids with their favorite toys in the warmth of the house. Stay warm everyone!



And feel free to visit my other blog. Weekly update number three is rip-roarin' ready to go!

Weekly Creature Feature