Romance Can Last

My husband and I will be celebrating our 33rd anniversary in just a few days and we've both been sneaking around. One of my girlfriends has been really "hinting" in non hinty ways all about what he's been doing. Actually she's just enjoying the fact that she knows what he's up to and I do NOT. When I was younger I would have pumped her for information, but today I'm looking forward to his surprise. I am working on his. I have one gift wrapped, his card made and am looking for more goodies to surprise him with.

After 33 years I can tell you that romance is alive and well and living in our hearts and in our home. My husband is so far ahead of me on the romance scale. IF we were keeping a list and competing he's have won long ago. I can also tell you we've had to work hard at our marriage. Marrying is like blending two colors of paint, but there is always someone who doesn't like the idea of two being one and will put himself in the way of success. Should a couple divorce the colors are somewhat blended so no one goes away without a part of the other person rooted in his/her soul. Comparisons will always be made and memories will be in the background influencing every action.

I love scrapbooking and my husband knows it. He visits a huge scrapbook store every time he goes on a mission trip. He has lists he fills and then brings to me. He also visits a particular tourist trap during his trips. He looks for gifts for me all the time. We aren't materially motivated people, but the little gifts we get for one another are just reflections of our love for one another. I on the other hand am always listening to hubby for tools he needs and wants. He has difficulty buying tools for himself, but I do NOT. I love thinking back to the first time we had a nice chunk of change in the bank. I went crazy buying him Craftsman tools and hiding them at a friend's house. I still remember the look on my husband's face as he saw all the huge power tools wrapped in paper with big huge bows on them. He was flabbergasted as he opened each one. My friends delighted in watching him as well. It was a great time for all.

We have a farm and each of us will take turns doing the early morning chores. There are days when I just don't want to move and he does it. There are days I can tell he needs to sleep in and I will get up and brave the cold to feed our animals and release the chickens to peck their happy way through the day.

Love isn't all about sex, though sex is a part of married love. Sex becomes less and less a part of life in older people's life. If it holds too big a place problems can develop. The human body changes and has times of weakness. Having unreal expectations about a partner can cause imbalance. Dealing with unreal appetites is also a part of marriage. Open communication is work. Transparency is a must for a long lived marriage. It is NOT impossible to be open and transparent, but it requires sacrifice of self. Marriage requires sacrifice of self. Hubby and I are blessed to have come to a place where we decided to work for the team of our marriage rather than fight for individual wants. We are a team and we are team players. Romance in marriage is about being for the team. Sometimes you're a player and sometimes you're a cheer leader, last of all sometimes you need a referee and sometimes you need a coach. Being open to that is a biggie.

I find it funny that I am using sports analogies as we aren't big sports people. I just realized that it applies in understanding marriage. Our team colors are yellow and red! How funny. I never realized we had "colors" until this moment. Hubby loves yellow so I use it in decor and when I want to demonstrate my love of him. I love red and hubby uses it to do the same for me. Our team motto, "Love never fails".

Romance is alive and well, but it takes work on BOTH sides of the cake. One can never make demands of the other partner, but must be willing to give 100% knowing that whatever is given will be received.

I'm looking forward to another few decades with my husband. He's my own personal man and I love him deeply. I need him and he needs me. We make an unbeatable team. We only play against the one who would try to separate us. We have God as our referee and coach and our "Ketubah" is the entire bible. We work for each other and look for opportunities to go the extra yard.

It's amazing how quickly 33 years have passed, it only seems like yesterday I say my man for the first time. I know when I see his silver hair that time has passed. I'm thrilled to see what's ahead.

Come grow old with me, the best is yet to be.

Happy 33rd Anniversary babe.

Love ya,

Cerise

Girl Fun

Last night was a lot of fun. We had standing room only and the store was humming with activity. Our guest speaker had to beg absense as she had a band concert rehersal she had forgotten. We were sad she missed out, but we carried on and had a fairly fun time of it.



I made gingerbread cookies and a gingerbread house as a door prize. Ann C took the cookie house home and each gal took a cookie home as my gift. We aren't allowed to have refreshments, but I wrapped the cookies and notified management that they were "gifts"!



The girls each made at least two art trading cards. I know it's hard to be creative on demand, but with a little encouragement they all made tiny reflections of their individual artsy selves on a card. The real fun came when they traded their cards.



Melinda B won the stamp and Debi S won the gift tags. Ammie brought her "Embellish Your Story" goodies and we each bought from her after the meeting. We missed several gals due to conflicting schedules and hope to see them next month.

We discussed January's tentative meeting subject (digital scrapbooking) and our guest speaker. I stayed after with one of the gals and had a nice warm Chai at the Barnes & Noble cafe. Great evening!

Duck Dodging

The air was brisk this morning, but nothing compared to the past few days. My routine is pretty much set in cement or should I say caliche being that I live in West Texas. I've been doing this for over two years now and I've become almost nonchalant about it. In the beginning, the naying of the goats, the quacking of the ducks, the crowing of the roosters made me panicky and I'd rush through it all. Of course in the beginning we had baby goats, bottle fed goats and their pleas would drive me to distraction. Now they all can scream and I'm OK with it. Those bottle fed goats are big burly guys who want to play rough with me. I now also carry a broom handle or pinata bat when I go out to the field with them. (For those of you who read that last sentence and are wondering, remember I live in West Texas and pinata bats are real things. No they aren't mammalian, but simply a carved and colorfully painted bat used to break pinatas or bean goats who want to jump on you.)

Buddy and Pal are now adult male goats. Their mama's owner needed goats milk for her show lambs and I ignorantly and I must admit stupidly volunteered to take ONE baby goat and bottle feed it. Of course when the blessed event happened there were two goats and the other taker backed out. So I figured (again ignorantly and stupidly) two goats would be as easy as one. I'm going to be up anyway feeding one. What I didn't know was that Buddy would be easy as pie and Pal had a weak constitution and everything but goat's milk would go straight through him. I won't even divulge the amount of money spent keeping him alive. But he's a lover and well worth the expense. I had NO idea how expensive animal rearing or garden keeping was back in the beginning. I now have a clue.

This morning I did my rounds and then talked to my ducks "Beaker and Squeaker". They let me know they were ready for fresh water in their pool. So I obliged my two Blue Swedish ducks and filled their pool. I sat on one of our heavy aluminum chairs as they discovered just what I was up to. First they sipped the water in the pool. Next they dunked their heads as if to see what was in the bottom. (Like it's changed since the first time I ever filled their pool.) Beaker is the alpha male of the two. He made his inspection and then climbed the cinder block to get into the pool. He swam a couple of laps and then watched as Squeaker dunked his head in the waterfall flowing from the pool. They love to do some sort of sand filtering routine when I fill their pools. It's weird, but knowing that chickens have crops full of grit in order to digest their hard cracked corn, I figure ducks must need sand. After a little sifting Squeaker made his way into the pool. He too did a few laps and then the preening routine began. They dunk under the water with a sort of wave motion. Then they swim laps really fast. They alternately dunk under and swim laps as fast as they can. This rounding motion causes a whirlpool and water goes everywhere. When through they do a tandem sort of bugling and squeak noise, throwing their heads back and then they quack, quack, quack. I know they are happy, but what they are saying only duck whispers know. The watery mess quickly spread onto the ground and approached where I was sitting some three feet away. It was time to turn the water off and return to my other duties. It's fun to watch their ritual, but life does go on and it was time to dodge the happy ducks.

I also love my chickens. I did what my sister lovingly refers to as the "Elmira mommy" thing with two hens this morning. I grabbed for one (I think it was Bingo; an Auracauna) to cuddle her. She was so freaked out she ran circles around the chicken house. There were only two hens in the house and I had shut the door so she had nowhere to go. She's on the end of her molting stage so she isn't flying too well these days. I eventually caught her and she flailed while I calmed her. I don't consider myself a chicken whisperer, but that didn't stop me from whispering in her ear, "It's OK baby". I cuddled and talked to her for a while and then eyed "Chicklet" on the shower curtain rod. We have shower curtains to divide the chicken area from the water well pump area. The chickens have claimed the rod as a roosting post. She has been "Elmira Mommied" many times before so she knew what was coming. I still had to grab her legs to get her and prevent her from flying into a wall and hurting herself. She screamed bloody murder, but it did her no good. I held her anyway. After I got my "chicken fix" I went in and here I am. I just love the peaceful nature of living in the country. Actually I only live ten miles from town in a smaller town, but it feels wayyyyy more country-esk than anywhere I lived in California.

I'd like to think of our life here as "Green Acres 101". I don't know much about farming, but what I do know I put to use. I actually have 42 pets that we feed. We've actually eaten two of our hens and umpteen eggs from our chickens. We plan on butchering "Lunch" and "Dinner" this month. It isn't easy to butcher animals you've loved and fed, but it's a sin to me to not eat what you've butchered so I'm forcing myself to get past it all.

I don't get to be farmer gal nearly as often as I'd like. Hubby is forced to take up my slack when I'm too busy with the financial end of living or some other endeavor. We're a team and we tag team whenever we must. That's what I like about being married to my best friend. When I'm too busy he dodges the ducks for me. I'll have to post the video of them trying to get him. It's a hilarious game they play with him. Love me some ducks. Next year we hope to find a couple she ducks for our boys. They are desperate for duck women. If anyone knows of a good duck dating service, please let me know. I am not opposed to mail order duck brides.

Granny Farmer Gal Tells All

The air was brisk but not uncomfortable this morning. My two drakes met me at the feeder awaiting their turn to eat. They are first on my list of, "To dos" each morning. It's funny how you settle into a routine when you work on a farm. When I first realized how many lives I was caring for I used to get panicky. The animals all "talk" to you in the morning. It's as if they are saying, "Me first mom." Of course they are just making noise because their bellies are roaring. They will actually "talk" to me anytime I go out the front door. Rather like Pavlov's critters mine act upon the sound of the front door opening. Now they even react to my voice. There were times in the early days of having a farm that I would feel rushed at their voices, but like a mother with too much to do I can now pretty much ignore their pleas and get to each one in his/her turn.

As I mentioned the ducks are first. My duck boyz get some wild bird seed as well as chicken feed. I have a funny little cactus bird feeder. His sombrero holds a trough of bird seed. The ducks get first dibs and then my single yard rooster "Rosie" gets what they don't eat. When he's through the wild birds get their turn at it. After I feed the ducks I go to the greenhouse and let out Rosie and whoever has managed to sneak in with him during the night. We have an "official" hen house that most of the chickens sleep in, but occasionally Rosie's little sister or some other hen decide to spend the night at the local clear walled motel. Don't ask me what they are doing, I don't want to know. So out they come and they get fed "scratch" and chicken feed. My normal order is to head to the "official" hen house and let my two roosters Chipper and Piper out along with an undetermined number of hens. Most are Rhode Island Reds, but we also have five Auracaunas. The RIRs don't have official names except Azzie and Chicklet. When they were tiny I could tell who was who, but now they blend in with all the other red hens. The Auracaunas are named Princess, Amelia (first one to fly), Norma Jeana, Waddles (waddles because she broke her toe as a chick), and Bingo. I named Waddles and Chicklet. The kids from our Wednesday night bible study named the rest. Oh yes, their dad named Norma Jeana. She is such a weird color; almost lavender.

We love our chickens. I especially love Rosie and Princess. Rosie is the biggest chicken, pardon the pun, I've ever met. He will run to the feeder during the day because he knows I'm apt to fill it. He will also run to the fence when I come out hoping for tomatoes or some other goodie. BUT if I come in the yard he runs as far and as fast away as he can. He's a big coward when it comes to mom. Princess follows me everywhere. She will jump on the gate when I am in the yard and just start talking. She reminds me of a lady that used to live behind my grandma. Mrs. Louis was her name. She loved to talk. She would talk your ear off if it possible. She had a gate she shared with grandma. Their lots were back to back and you could count on her coming to the fence if you were out in grandma's yard. I remember her house smelling funny. I don't remember the smell, but it was "off" is what I do remember. My grandma's house had a warm food smell all the time. Whether fried chicken or cooling pies it was a homey smell. Anyway, Princess and her chickeny ways really remind me of Mrs. Louis.

After I release and feed the majority of chickens I head to our Cornish chickens. I'm sure you're making the same mistake I made when I ordered these guys. I figured they were tiny and cute because I'd eaten "Cornish game hens". Not so. These are Cornish chickens, not game hens. These guys (and gals) have legs like logs and are not tiny in any way. Roodles my Cornish rooster is a fighting cock. He thinks he owns the world and is VERY protective of his harem. He has five hens (two of which are his daughters). He loves attacking whatever comes near his domain. We find head pecked finches in varying degrees of paralysis in his yard. They have attempted to steal his food and he has pecked their little heads. You don't want to mess with Roodles. I used to go fetch eggs and even go in the yard and do whatever needed done. Now it waits for hubby to get done. I don't like tangling with Roodles. My husband theorizes that he is so tough because they did a horrific job of clipping his wings. He has sore nub at the end of what used to be one of his wings. It looks nasty and sore to me. If it hurts as much as it looks it is no wonder he's aggressive. Poor guy. For this reason my husband babies and plays with him. He delights in picking him up and talking to him like he was his best pal. He has suffered the consequences of Roodles anger at this gesture, but it hasn't stopped him yet.

Once I get the chickens fed and watered I return to our yard and get sweet feed for the goats. We don't give them much, but they expect it like the elderly expect their social security. The line up of boys goes in order of their arrival on the farm; Billie and Bartie are my Nigerian Pygmy goats and were first to join our family. They came as lawnmowers for our 2 acres of weeds. One day we came home to find Bartie outside the gate (this is still a mystery) and three strange goats in our field. Two of the strangers were very tall and white, one was short and white. We learned that the tall guys were neutered Saanens. They were given the names Pinkie and Brain (for obvious reasons.) The small guy we named Freddie. We learned his name was Stubborn, but I don't need a goat with that temperament so we changed it to something more friendly. He was terrified of humans when he first arrived, but given time and lots of love my husband gets to scratch him on the head from time to time. Our former neighbors had a goat named Ellie May. She was a Saanen, Alpine and Nubian cross and when she was pregnant the neighbors asked if we wouldn't like a kid from her. They wanted her for her milk and planned on farming out her kids. I figured I could bottle feed a single baby goat. (Wow was I a sucker.) Buddy and Pal were born in March a year and a half ago. We watched them enter the world and took on the job of raising them both on bottles. I guess the rest of the world was smarter than us as the others who said they wanted one backed out.

I must share that it was the hardest thing I've ever done. Buddy took to fake goat milk like a trouper, but Pal was much more sensitive to it and almost immediately had the scours. That was pure hell. I eventually (after weeks and months) worked out a formula. I borrowed some of his mother's milk and mixed it with the formula. That didn't work. I came up with a very expensive formula of canned goats milk and whole milk that he could tolerate. He took a lot of work to keep alive. He's quite healthy now, but he has the weirdest shape of any goat I've ever seen. If their is a nerdy goat in the encyclopedia of animals I believe Pal could be the poster child. He walks like a dweeb and acts like the strange child he is. He's a lover of lovers and my husband babies him something ferocious.

We then were given "Lucy". Lucy is a Boer goat. She was only six months old when we got her. I really didn't notice how small she was until I was scrapbooking my animals. Her pictures when she first came into our yard show a tiny little girl with little bitty horns and a tiny body. She has filled out very nicely. She had triplets this March. I prayed like the dickens that she would be able to nurse all three. She was a superb mom and all three of her kids are healthy. We only named her female kid. Yael (goat in Hebrew) shows the Alpine goat coloration she got from her grandma Ellie May. Her head is brown and black and has the typical Alpine coloring. She's a brat of a female and is jumpy. The boys have no names for obvious reasons. They look just like their creamy uncle Pal. Their dad Buddy throws them around like so much trash when he's in the corral for breeding.

The last goat on the rolls is "Gracie". She is "supposed" to be a registered show goat. We paid $30.00 for her. She has bent horns and weird coloration. I highly doubt she was shown anywhere but in her owner's minds. She is skittish as if never handled by humans. (Another sign to me that she was never shown.) Show goats are cleaned, brushed, pampered and not afraid of humans. This goat won't let you come near her enough to even pet her let alone anything you'd have to do to show her. She was bred this year so we will see what sort of mom she is.

Getting across the field to feed and water the moms and babies is always a gamble. I always carry some sort of stick or broom to beat off greedy or cuddly goats. I may have to drag a wagon with hay or feed across the field. If the boys see me doing this and have already gone through their sweet feed I can be in danger of being mobbed and smashed. My biggest Saanen Pinkie can get down right wild if he thinks someone else is getting his "fair share" of anything. He tried to "play" with me this morning on my way back to the house. You do NOT want a 250-300 pound goat with very long horns "playing" any sort of game with you. I shouted "NO" with as much gusto as I could muster and waved my old red broom handle at him. He did his little head turn (this normally causes me to give him more pecans or carrots), but I was not in any sort of mood to play with Mr. Cutie Pants. He watched me walk (VERY FAST) towards the chicken yard. He just stood looking disappointed as I got farther and farther away. (AND CLOSER TO SAFETY!)

One would think that was all I had to do, but as soon as I got in the house my cat and dog decide it's time for their third or fourth goodies. My husband and I use goodies to reward our dog for going potty outside and cat for coming in. Animals are much smarter than most humans given them credit for. It wasn't a month before our dog realized she could just go out and come in and get a goodie. The cat learned it immediately. I guess she had been watching the dog practice this form of deceit for years. She used to be an inside only cat, but after her retarded brother Joker died she was allowed to enjoy the pleasures of farm living.

There are days when I'd like to throttle Freckles. She goes in and out every few moments. I quit giving her goodies for every meow. My animals learn just how far they can push me and they basically give up on tricking me into feeding them junk food. My husband on the other hand is more patient and actually admires their efforts. He's a complete softy.

So here it is hours after I've fed them all. I myself have yet to eat. I am just now finishing a cup of tepid tea and thinking about napping. I was up at 5:00AM and everyone is full but me. I love every bit of it. (I say this now that everyone is cared for, but when I first am awakened by a barking dog who wants out before the crack of dawn it's another thing.)

We aren't really farmers. I hate the idea of eating my chickens (which I have done). I have to cover the taste of eggs up with chili and cheese. I know that when hubby butchers the goats I will be a mess mentally. We are basically owners of around 42 pets. We can afford to feed them, but it's silly. I've learned loads of lessons because of this adventure, but I'm still terrified when one turns up sick. I rush around like a proverbial chicken with her head cut off. (I've experienced this in real life so I know what I'm talking about.) It's hard to have animals. They are a huge responsibility. They need more than just food and shelter. We've rescued animals all through our marriage and those who didn't receive love and attention are a mess. When you love and care for animals you are connected to them in ways words can't describe. The thought of eating my animals is just plain hard. It's so much easier to go buy meat all processed and packaged for my convenience. Why that personal connection or soulish tie isn't there I just don't know.

I've yammered on way too long. I have other things to do today. My work goes on before me and just because the morning is half over, the chores are NOT.

A New Toy

I really enjoy having computers and use my laptop almost all through every day. Occasionally I just stop in my tracks and turn it off and just say, "Enough". While returning from a conference in Salt Lake City, Utah I sat next to a published author. She was typing on a weird keyboard looking thing. I had to ask, "What is that?" She told me it was an Alphasmart Neo. She said it took AA batteries and she wrote her romance novels on it. I love to write, but having to lug a laptop and then make sure it's either plugged in or has a full charge can be irritating. Well this past week I went searching for more information and found that an older version, the Alphasmart 3000 could be had on eBay for a song, so I began watching the bids and checking out more information about the little darlings.

I am now the happy owner of an Alphasmart 3000. Hubby removed the dead rechargeable battery and we replaced it with three copper topped AA batteries. I have been writing on it for a couple days now and just think it is marvelous. I can take it anywhere. It holds a long charge as it's nothing but simple text. I can plug it into my computer (you really need a USB printer cable) and open a Word document and then I press SEND and voila, it sends it to a word document. It has eight files and I think I remember it hold 100 pages of text in each file. It takes cheap batteries and even the battery that stores the text you're saving is an easy find and cheap replacement. I didn't even have to have software. I have both Macs and PCs, but used my Vista laptop and it installed a driver that let me receive the text from the Alphasmart!

I love finding technology that is user friendly and this one really is.

Quiet Friday

I'm sitting here at the computer reflecting on my week. Hubby has gone to the post office with our pooch and I'm trying to motivate myself to get busy. I know I'm tired, but I wanted to do so much today. Yesterday was a wonderful day, but just a little too full. We went to lunch with some a sister and brother in the Lord. We also shopped for just a couple goodies for a CROP I'm going to and then I continuing preparing for the bible study I do each Thursday evening. After I ministered last night I returned to pick up my hubby from a house where he ministers each Thursday. I ended up staying another hour and a half and played with the kiddos and visited with the wife.

I've been doing a lot of intercession this week and plan to add this as a regular part of my spiritual life. This past week I prayed for all my friends who suffer from MS, fibromyalgia, and lupus. I put a post on Facebook that I was taking prayer requests and was amazed at the numbers of women suffering from these afflictions. I got various other requests, but as I focus on these areas I see that I am not alone.

I'm seeking the will of the Father for my intercession this next week, but will continue with these three maladies until I hear from Him exactly where to go next. It's a challenge to pray for others for prolonged periods of time, but I have such a burden for it that I can't stop praying. The body of Messiah is in great need these days and my heart is heavy for them. Deception is everywhere and it seems that people either neglect faith completely, pick religion where they try to keep the law to be righteous or pick way out false religion. We need to see the power in the faith towards God through His choice of Messiah.

So here I am praying and standing.

Blessings come for those who play.

Cerise

Sunday Funnies

OK, so this post has nothing to do with the Sunday Funny papers. I don't even get the paper. When I paid to have it delivered on Sundays I rarely got it. It ended up being frustrating. The only reason I entitled this blog that is because I'm thinking of reminiscing about bygone times. I remember my folks getting the Oakland Tribune and the ONLY thing I ever paid any attention to was the Sunday funnies. Mom did the crossword and dad read all the "boring" news. I remember the yucky sensation I got when I touched a newspaper. I thought to myself, "WHY would anyone make the paper feel so terrible?" I now understand that papers are made of rags and wood pulp. Recycling has always been the way of the daily and weekly papers.

Today I head over to my scrapbook space and work on the other side of my space. I'm really determined to make the space a working space and not just a storage space. I am also working on the kid's classroom. I may purge the little kid stuff to donate to a certain sister who is in the process of starting a daycare in far away Wyoming. We'll see if she wants any of it.

So I'm going to eat lunch and then head over. I've taken care of the farm animals and my dog and cat. I've talked to my friend in Belarus and I have run out of excuses to stay here. Time to get my fanny in gear and get some more work done. I will probably clean up my message board. It's covered with photos of my mom and dad from the past. I love looking at them as I have many good memories I've been focusing on. Oh my kid and her babes are there too. I miss them so much. Words can't even express how much.

Well, off to work I go. It's been a good morning and I'm looking forward to a good afternoon as well.

See you in the funny papers.