Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Hi! And Welcome back to reading this thingy called a blog.
Who came up with that word anyway?
So a lot has happened since my last entry..... We had a son:)
Its a pretty big deal.
Life has been busy, with life stuff. You know... waking up, feeding little ones, feeding feathered ones, doing daily things, brushing your teeth and then doing it again the next day.
Honestly, life has been pretty sweet.
But coming back to this blog thing is a lot like dusting off an old novel that you swear you love- but completely forget what its about.
So- as a busy mum, farmer, life do-er, and big mouth, I've decided to ramp up this blog to more modern-ish times. Like modern as in today. And as in today I'm talking about all the trendy crap people like to read about.
So this blog will succumb to todays social vacuum and provide, facts, advice, pictures, comfort, care, an occasional box of chocolates, and a hug regarding all that is chicken, duck, and honeybees.
Feel free to share. Feel free to ask questions. Feel free to laugh your ass off at yet- another blog dedicated to the same old crap that people seem to enjoy.
Maybe there will even bee a casserole recipe or two.
Friday, January 24, 2014
I entered a room that was bigger than expected. It was far more beautiful than I could have imagined. It was full of all sorts of paths and journeys that were enticing, scary (in a good way:)) seemingly fun. Paths I have always wanted to take, but never brave enough to do it on my own. There was something intersting about this room though. It was full of all sorts of different uniforms. Each uniform hung up pristine and inviting ways. And as if a child I couldn't wait for the opportunity to try each one of them on. Whether it would be play pretend, or actually "fit, " the uniform worn, I was excited. I tried on each one, some more carefully than others, and each one lead to a different adventure.......
Who had made this room?
Who opened this door for me?
Who invited me here.
I call him my Muse.
Some of you might know him better as Huckleberry
Or Fantastic Mr. Fox.
But most of you know him as David.
Five years ago today we were married.
My best friend. The one who knows me better than anyone on earth. The one who knows my deepest darkest secrets, and loves me. The one who said "be mine," and "I do."
He was the one who made an eloborate room called "this life with you," and opened the door for me.
We met almost eight years ago in Kentucky.
I was at a point in life were I was so full of self conceit I couldn't see straight.
My dance career was my all in all but somehow still not enough.
I wanted more.
I wanted to be noticed.
So I decided to out my dance career on the sidelines and audition for New England Patriots cheer leading squad.
I was on my way to audtion, when my loving brother offered to pay for my way to a church conference called New Attitude.
He knew I needed one:)
I woke up the day of the audition and purposely stayed home.
I had been praying to our God who I thought had long forgotten me.
I was tired of the path I was going down.
Tired of the hurt I brought into myself.
Tired of driving my dangerously unsafe car.
I asked God to take over.
I went to the new attitude conference.
Little did I know that going there would have changed my life!
The conference was alot to take in.
I was raised Cathoilc and I was used to the traditional ways of the church. At the conference I saw people rejoicing over the Saviour, and openly proclaiming His glory.
It was totally weird to me.
But them something else weird happened.
I was in the hotel room when I sudden downpour caught my attention.
The rain came down in sheets.
It was so strong, it was breath taking.
I grabbed my camera and went to the window to take a picture of it......I have always loved the weather.
I snapped the picture and saw something across the hotel way.
I didn't know that was there!
The next day it was wicked hot.
Like humid and stagnant.
The conference meeting had let out and I couldn't get to the pool fast enough. I didn't want to attend the next meeting as I was having my fill of all theses happy Christians. I didn't get their happiness. It couldn't be legit.
But it was.
So I went to the pool and sat down.
Within minutes a guy who had caught my attention days before say next to me.
It was David.
He thought I was there for a Beetles festival that was happening at the same time.
I thougt he was actually a cool Christaian. (My feeble mind didn't know at the time they existed)
We started talking and never stopped.
We talked that day for hours.
We met that night to talk more.
The next day was the end of the conference.
We talked that morning.
And as I boarded the plane to fly back to New England, we were texting.
It was another month of phone conversations all hours of the night before David came up to Mass "to see about a girl."
It rained the day he left to go back to Maryland.
It was one month after that he told me he loved me during a rainstorm on his parents front porch.
(the rain has stayed a symbol to us)
Just a chance meeting at a random church conference?
I think not.
In the same month that I met the person I was spend the rest of my life with. The man who would be the father of the child I hold in my lap at this moment.
I also found God
who truly never let me go.
My life started.
Like really started that day at the pool. My life as a Christian began long before in Gods Holy hands, but like Dorothy opening the door to Oz and color becoming evident in life, so did mine.
Colors were more vivid.
The sky was always bright.
Fun, truly fun.
If I ever doubt Gods love for me. I just have to look at the rings on my finger.
If I ever think God doesn't really know me.
I just have to look at the man who carries my hand when it gets too heavy.
David is my proof of Gods love and existence.
And i get to spend this life with him.
We celebrated our five years married last night by going out to a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant.
David always being the one to have sweet surprises gave me a bracelet that I will treasure more than I can say. But Im not good with sweet surprises like that. I have never had the creative mind that gives someone special a meaningful gift.
I'm not good with that stuff.
Let e give you an example.
David, for my birthday bought me a brick at Fenway park (that is to be placed IN the wall of Fenway) with the day we met on it, and a I love You...... (that same birthday he bought me a gun. A brick and a gun for your birthday....he knew what would make a Boston girl smile:))
For Davids birthday I ....well I cant remember anything truly special I got him..
I can never top the thoughtfulness he possesses.
So for our anniversary I got .....
I got David a measly card.
But its what the card said that triggered this entry.
It said I could never write you a love letter because there aren't enough words.
And its true.
But that doesn't mean I cant try.
God has gifted me with words, and I want to do my best to share them with you.
Its my words that I can give to you David as a gift.
Like I did five years ago on that warm, (but snowy) January day. I can give you my words.
Like the song said "these three words, are not enough."
They are not.
The "I love you can," only go so far before its stopping point. But the way I feel for you and the gratitude, admiration, and cherishment that I feel for you does not have an end.
I can tell you that in words.
So I hope as I type this and you read that you really do know how I feel.
You are my muse.
You are the one who truly DOES believe in me.
The one who makes me want to be better.
To keep my thicker skin.
Who dances more than I do.
Who would give his daughter the universe if he could hold it.
Who is glad I'm from where I'm from.
Who whispers "it'll be ok."
Who never questioned my past.
Who never held wrong doings against me.
Who tells me I'm not like other girls.
Who likes that he got me into country music.
Who bought me cowboy boots, guns, ducks, and antiques.
Who lets me try things I have never been brave enough to try.
Who helps me relax.
Who inspires me to write.
Who listens to me talk about the existence of Bigfoot, werewolves, aliens and Chupacbra.
Who makes me laugh so hard at the same joke for the past eight years.
Who hears me complain.
Who thinks I'm pretty when I feel most ugly.
Who always says sorry first.
Who stands up for me, when I least expect it.
Who is proud of me.
who drove 300mph (kinda:)) to come to my dance competition just in time to see me take second place.
who always puts me first.
who misses Ash as much as I do.
who loves my family.
who feels part of them.
who is proud of being Irish
Who thinks I'm actually witty.
Who calls me smart.
Who ask me questions.
Who wants to know about my day.
Who spoils me.
Who would let me sleep in if I only had the mind to ask.
Who tells me I should have confidence.
Who cares for the way I feel.
Who helps take away pain.
Who helps me forget mistakes.
Who never stays mad at me.
Who works so hard at so many jobs so I can stay home and play Snow White.
Who teaches me about the glory of God.
Who tells me that there is no one better that could mother the child we created together.
And so like the Muse song that was our recessional David,
I will always be chasing this starlight that is our marriage.
I love you. Today. Tomorrow. And into Eternity with Our Loving Father.
Your blessed L.
Happy Five Years<3
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Let me begin by saying that I am no way shape or form a picture perfect Mom.
I don't measure anything I bake (if I bake anything at all)
I often look unkempt (pjs till 2pm.)
I don't make caption worthy breakfast' ( and I'm usually downing goldfish crackers myself by 9am)
.......and I don't do Mommy and baby play dates with other Mommys and babies, cause well......I got other shit to do, animals to feed, daily work to be done, and minutes to be filled.
So when you read this next lil excerpt please don't picture a picture perfect Mom. Don't picture the hair all done pristine, The makeup seemingly unseen, and the clothes up to date and fashion forward, the dinner on the table, something from better homes magazine.
No. Please picture, a girl in her sweats, and muck boots, with chicken feed somewhere in her hair. The house a blissful mess of toddler toys. Something burning in the toaster oven. dust bunnies hopping all around the house. A sweet, beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent, baby girl sitting on her hips, as she gets "stuff done, " around the yard.
That's the real picture.
So here goes.
I was hanging up some laundry last night after our daughter went to bed. I was hanging up clothes that couldn't be put in the dryer because they would shrink beyond wearing (mainly-my hoodies that I like to keep obscenely baggy for my "I'm feeling large days").
As I hung them I thought to myself, " how easy it was to do this with both hands." I could hang them upstairs with out the fear of our baby girl falling down the stairs after opening our bedroom door when I wasn't looking that split second. Or her getting into the toilet and doing something with it that would cause my human germaphobeness to unleash pandemonium. There was no lil one to get into some sort of self harm as I did this boring chore. It was easy to do.
It was so easy in fact, I could actually take my time......I could have three minutes of quiet, and peacefulness, and concentration. The laundry could be hung with actual strategy and care.
I ponderd this for a spilt second as I finished and waked into our bedroom.
There was our daughters bath tub.
Full of clothes that need to be donated.
Surrounded with her stuffed animals she pulled from her room.
Binkies abounding as I stepped over her tub.
Previously folded laundry placed in random piles that acquired thought beyond my possession.
I took it all in.
It was help.
Help that I "asked for," earlier in the day.
With previous loads of laundry that i had done earlier in the day, and wanting to get put away, I had asked for my daughters, "help." I thought to myself it's something I need to get done before I do ab and c, and our daughter can feel busy by"helping. "
Her help consisted of taking her bathtub out of the bathroom.
Placing old clothes in it.
Organizing particular stuffed animals around.
Making piles of Mommys folded laundry.
Enjoying some bright colored binkies, while doing so.
This was the best help I could have asked for.
I went back to my seconds before, of my "peaceful, " orportunity to hang laundry as our daughter slept.
The ease that I had done with now seemed so lonely.
The time I could take doing it was empty.
The enjoyment I thought I had of a moment "alone," was now vile.
I missed her as she lay sleeping in her room a few feet away.
I almost wanted to wake her up, take down all the hung clothes and have her help me.
It was a moment in mommy hood that I don't think I'll forget.
My. Special. Helper.
My best friend.
My heart walking around on the outside of my body.
It hit me.
I love being a mom.
I love even the "difficult, " times.
The late nights.
The temper tantrums in a five minute car drive.
The un asked for hugs.
The willingly share of her food.
The excitement over any animal*and you feel the same way)
The wearing of your clothes.
The smiles when you get her up in the morning.
The breakfast in the couch together as you watch reruns of Match Game 75.
Her eagerness to help you in boring mundane chores. ....
I would take that special help over self sufficiency any day.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
So it's been since July that I last made an entry.....
I sorta feel like a bad friend to my blog.
We haven't gone out for coffee together.
I haven't asked how blog is doing.
Haven't even checked in.
The blog, and our friendship together was closed for the season.
But it's been busy.
A non stop of people here.
There is not much room for quiet time
But this is what we signed up for.
Our season is starting to wind down. The farm stand has gone a bit better that anticipated, and we have come closer to breaking even than expected. Since October is a stones throw away, we are going to start concentrating on pumpkins, and fall favorites.
Our chickens are well. We have gotten plenty more. Out of the fifty something we have about twenty five are laying. The ones we got waaaay back in spring have been a disappointment. They are still not quite at laying age. And now are in molt. What an unexpected amount of money you have to put into feeding hens that are not paying for themselves. .....but this is part of the learning process.
We have gotten two more roo's. A buff, and an Americana Wheaton. Lovely, lovely, boys.
The ducks. Are awesome.
And in being so awesome our farm took an unexpected turn in direction.
We are now a duck farm
We got a shipment of fifty something in the mail today
(Ya, you can get ducks in the mail!?)
So....while the lil gals (all gals) peep outside my porch window, and our lil baby girl is sleeping, I finally decided to catch up with my ol friend, blog.
It's been awhile.
But it's good to be back:)
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Or how bout their footsteps?
The aliens had these long clawed feet that made a slight scratching sound. I remember seeing the foot shadows slide out from the crack where the door meets the floor, as they walk past.
You could hear them run across the roof.
So what did Mel do in this alien invasion?
Well he brought his family to the cellar of course!
And it was in those scenes as the alien feet above scratched the floorboards of their home, that my fear of "anything pertaining to outer space with a large oval head," was scratched into my being. My human. being.
Skip to today.
I'm in our cellar.
The bulkhead is closed (don't know what that is? http://callwalsh.com/images/doors_08.jpg There ya go cityfolk.)
and then I hear it.
the scratching footsteps.
it runs across the metal bulkhead.
Turn my head.
and I see the shadows. The feet. The sunlight that's peaking thru the crack of the bulkhead door, getting interrupted by scratchy, claw-ee, chattering feet.
I in my frozen, feared state, come too.
Nope just the chickens. (and ducks)
They knew I was where the food was so they were waiting outside for their handout.
no alien encounters today. And I consider that good for two reasons.
One being that, and alien encounter would probably cause my arms to fall off or something dramatic like that because of the fear. And having my arms fall off wouldn't be good.
and Two, being that I don't know if the beautiful state of Maryland would recognize aliens as livestock, nor would I have the slightest idea of what to feed the critters.
I'll stick with feathered livestock that enjoy water;)