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I like holidays. I do. I like seeing family and enjoying good food and the celebration of being alive and so forth and whatnot. And i like it even more because i know that God likes celebration.  Every time you turn around in the Bible, God is designating another holiday.  He's cool like that. Thing is, i think we do too much celebrating and not enough consideration of why we're celebrating. God's model for celebration often starts with fasting -- then feasting.  The fasting time, for getting your heart in the right place and realizing what it is you celebrate, and so on. I find it interesting that the two American holidays which mark the deaths of those who gave their lives for our freedom, are taken the most casually, often with hamburgers and hot dogs and swimming pools, but rarely with any consideration for what it is we often fail to hold dear.  Our freedom. I heard a speech by a man i'd never heard of, this week.  His name is Dennis Prager .  He is

The news stinks lately, doesn't it? It seems like pretty much every other day, there is a report of some horrible disaster, seemingly ruining the lives of hundreds or thousands of people, and those reports seem to be closer to home lately.  It's really too much to comment on, or i would be posting every ten minutes about the newest news item. It might be easy to think, for some, that God's not paying any attention. Recently, i've wondered if God was ignoring me when i asked for things completely unrelated to floods or tornadoes.  Just personal stuff. Then i had an unusual reminder that He's listening to every little thing. This is going to seem like i'm side-tracking, but i'm not. When i was a little girl, i recall having board-straight hair.  With the exception of a very unfortunate cow-lick in the off-centered middle of my forehead, not a wave in sight.  Neither a wave to be found in my family gene pool that i could see.  But still, as a teenag

The news stinks lately, doesn't it? It seems like pretty much every other day, there is a report of some horrible disaster, seemingly ruining the lives of hundreds or thousands of people, and those reports seem to be closer to home lately.  It's really too much to comment on, or i would be posting every ten minutes about the newest news item. It might be easy to think, for some, that God's not paying any attention. Recently, i've wondered if God was ignoring me when i asked for things completely unrelated to floods or tornadoes.  Just personal stuff. Then i had an unusual reminder that He's listening to every little thing. This is going to seem like i'm side-tracking, but i'm not. When i was a little girl, i recall having board-straight hair.  With the exception of a very unfortunate cow-lick in the off-centered middle of my forehead, not a wave in sight.  Neither a wave to be found in my family gene pool that i could see.  But still, as a teenag

This weekend, i re-homed my beloved rooster, Rocky;  i brought home my new beloved kitten, Columbo; and i started a new batch of chicks in the incubator. I'm exhausted, and speed does not come easily, this early Monday morning. But i find it so much easier to cope with the Monday morning exhaustion when my weekend was well-spent. Happy Monday!  and Hallelujah!

When i was a girl, i oft had a cat for a pet. Cats and i get along pretty well. During the beginning of my marriage, when sometimes it was rocky, i would go to the local pet store and pet kittens for therapy. Lately, in the absence of a cat on the homestead, i've been wanting one.  It has been more than a year since our Stanley disappeared, and i have been wanting a kitty.  Just for having sweetness around.  So i started looking and found a potential kitten not too far from our house. I brought him home yesterday afternoon and named him Columbo.  'Cause that's a good name for a cat. Initially, Columbo was afraid of every movement and every noise and would hide from us and cry and be a very unsociable kitty. But then, possibly by divine inspiration, we helped him associate canned herring with us, and he has become a much more cuddly kitty.  It's amazing what transformations can be made through the appetite. Columbo has taken up residence in our bathtub.  Ap

When i was a little girl, i remember seeing on tv - or having general knowledge - about little children in different areas of the world, where there was not enough food and/or there was little food coupled with communist rule.  Or whatever horrible plight.   I understood that my spirit was not defined by my body, and i often wondered why my spirit got to be born into this body and in this time, a body that lives in the United States, that gets plenty to eat, that has kind loving parents, that doesn't get beaten or abused by Nazis or Communists or Fascists, or whathaveyou.  I remember often thanking God for allowing me to have such a horror-free life.  I probably didn't say it exactly that way when i was six, but nonetheless. . . This morning, while i was preparing my breakfast and taking those first luxurious sips of my freshly brewed coffee, i thanked God and then wondered again.  Why me?  Why do i get to have it so good ?  When so very many have it such a very difficult l

This is me.  Bragging on my awesome husband, who has set out to grow tomatoes in Texas.  What's the big deal?  You've grown tomatoes in Texas?  Well, we haven't. And not too many have.  And we're pretty proud.  Isn't she beautiful??!!!! Earlier in the year, my Hoe-slingin' super gardener, invested in multiple varieties of tomatoes that were bred and/or touted to grow well i our area, where the sun is hot, and the rain will either wash you away or not come at all.  We have lots of different tomato plants.  I'm sure you'll get to see them later in the summer, but this one is the most impressive - an early producer, and i thought i'd share.   Incidentally, i have no idea what kind of tomato it is, but if you're interested, i'll try to find out. We already have one beautiful red tomato on our counter, waiting to be devoured, and it smells SO good. O.k., enough bragging for now. Over and out.

When i was visiting my parents last month, i took home a whole lot o' loot.  So much loot, that i couldn't take it home, and my parents had to box it up and mail it to me.  It was great.  Among said loot, my mother sent me the ingredients to make 2 gallons of homemade laundry soap, a project i've been fantasizing over for months and possible year + months, but never got the ingredients and the plan together to make it happen.  My mom's awesome, so she measured out the ingredients for me, placed them in a plastic bag with the directions, and gave them to me.  Moms are awesome. I've read where lots of people wrote about their triumphs in making laundry soap - but never so much about the parts that confused them.  That's where i come in.  This simple process confused me a bit and had some complications i've not heard about in the past.  So i'll share it with you, and maybe you'll decide to make your own laundry soap too.  Or not.  Whichever. Here is

(Dear Readers, i wrote this post yesterday evening, while blogger was doing a one hour update that ended up taking the entire night and threatened to steal away our most recent blog entries.  But it didn't, and everything is now back to normal - so far as the eye can see - and now you can read what i meant to write last night.  Weird, i know.) This week. Whew. It has been Monday all week long. And i am so glad that Friday is only a sleep away. On Friday mornings, my hubby and i have this unplanned tradition that i am coming to cherish.  Every Friday morning, one of us gets paid, and every Friday morning, both of us need gas in our vehicles.  So every Friday morning, we get up extra early and go to the gas station together, fill up two vehicles, and buy a gas station breakfast and coffee.  And then we drive away to our separate work places. I don’t know why i like that so much. Maybe it’s the gassing up. Maybe it’s the good coffee they sell at this particular

This morning on the radio, the d.j.'s on the local-ish Christian radio station, KSBJ, were discussing a newly dubbed condition (dubbed by whom, i don't know), called "Facebook Depression."  Reportedly, Facebook Depression is a result of person reading about other people's lives on Facebook (or, i assume, blogs and other places) and getting the impression that everyone's lives are beautiful and perfect except their own.  This is reportedly because too many people hide the ugly truth of their normal lives by posting status updates, etc., about only the good and wonderful. This discussion made me think about you, the wonderful humans who check in at this address day by day and week by week to read the blathering business i write.  So i said to myself, "self, what if you're just too positive?" And then i decided i better provide some depression relief for you right away. Here goes . . . The dirty truth . . . 1.  I did laundry on Sunday night,

There was a young woman from Texas Who got a haircut in the city Her friends wanted pictures And left her lots of messages But her computer became sick, reportedly. This poem doesn't rhyme a little But i hope you get the message completely I love you a lot But my computer is shot It is getting first aid sort of immediately. When it is better, We'll talk, and we'll chatter, And i'll tell you how i made soap with lots of lather. My time is now gone. I must travel on And do my work so that they will pay me But hopefully not with bon bons. (See what i did there?) This poem is getting worse by the stanza So i'll go now, understandya?

Warning, this is a frufru post about non-farming topics. "I've been studyin' on this for a long time." is what i told the hair dresser on Saturday.  And it's true. While i was not working away from the home, but instead only with the chickens and the rabbits and the dying fruit trees, i just let my hair grow and grow and grow.  And by the time i returned to work, it was that length just past regular long hair that makes people say, "Wow.  Your hair is really getting LONG." I learned a long time ago that God made my hair for the messy look.  There simply isn't any way around it.  But when my hair got long and heavy, i thought . . . i dreamed for a moment that i could  mousse it or serum (read, oil) it down and have lovely long smooth non-messy hair. But it simply isn't to be. And i've been studying.  Really. I made note cards. Well, i made note card . I read about what kind of haircut looks good on a . . . . . . round face .

Recently, at Easter weekend, 21 little chicks hatched at my house.  The person we were hatching them for had asked for 20 chicks.  And chick #21 was looking pretty pathetic.  I didn't want to deliver a happy holiday chick that would quickly die, so i kept the chick at home and delivered what first aid i could.  I hoped for the best, but was prepared to find an expired chick when i returned home.  To my delight, when we returned home, after a very long Easter Sunday, celebrating with family, this little chick was wide awake, well-rested, and ready to hit the road, with a serious pair of lungs, by the way. So, i gave this lonely little chick to my recently bereaved broody hen, and she welcomed this chick with open wings.  I have very much enjoyed watching the two of them over the past couple of weeks.  Mother hen protects this single chick like it was the greatest treasure on earth, and she spends every waking moment teaching it to find food and be a chicken. I took some pictures