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Right now, i'm sitting on a hotel room bed, next to my loving man, enjoying some microwave popcorn, while watching reruns on tv waiting for our laundry to dry. I have been hesitating to write this post, both because it's kind of a pain to write a decent post from a cell phone, and because those of you who have read the archives of this blog -- or who know me outside of blogland may roll their eyes in disbelief and boredom at the repetetive plotline rearing its head in this story of my life: We, my husband and i, have now experienced and survived our fifth fire. Our fourth house fire. To be fair, fire 4 was less of a house fire and more just flaming plastic raining from the bathroom ceiling, but it remains that fire, in whatever form, has played an unusually themy (as in predominate theme) in the story of our marriage thus far. This time there was apparently a lit candle in a window sill, near a trash can full of toilet paper. Presumably there was also a kitten playing i...

You know, after all this time (four months or so), after switching from being a full time homemaker/chicken wrangler, to being a full time go-some-place-else-to-make-money-er/chicken hobbyist, i'm still not wrapping my head around it very well.  Once i had what many people consider an "alternate" way of life, it stuck to me -- deep inside me.  Nothing else makes that much sense to me anymore. There have been times when i have been SO frustrated - the same frustrations i had in the old days, before chicken wrangling and whatnot -- the difficulty of keeping a home you're not in most of the time, the difficulty of balancing . . . juggling.  How do i keep my passion about my home and our dreams and still be a great employee -- but not become a workaholic? One morning, on my way to work, i was crying in frustration over all the confusion in my head.  Having left a hopelessly messy house to go and keep someone else's business in order, instead of my own . . .  and...