This haiku is inspired by my next-door-pasture mates. Three geldings, only 2 of whom I know names. So I lump them as dark, milk, and white chocolates. My 3 chocolates. Dark is in charge. Dark and milk are highest on the horse pecking order. White comes in last, as youngest and newest to the herd of boys and is always thrust away from attention by flattened ears and threatening postures. He of the white chocolate is the most friendly and curious. He’s always up for hanging out over the fence for a chat and a scratch.
I love them all, my chocolates.
P.S. Not really MY chocolates. A girl can dream…
Who lives in your next door pasture? I’d love to read a haiku about your neighbors. Or you can just tell who lives next door. No haiku required! Do they make you think of chocolate?
See above official Nana bus work uniform when riding the rail between late summer and early fall. Near freezing temps in the morning, lovely 70’s in the afternoon. This is my AM solution, a perfect solution in my mind.
I know, I know. Wearing socks with sandals? A fashion faux pas on so many levels. We used to tease my daddy about wearing socks (white KNEE socks) with his sandals, a haute couture nod to blindingly pale flesh-colored knees and leg skin.
But sometimes, the toes just get too cold. The tennis shoes reside in the trunk, ever ready for a walk when out running errands, the air felt too cold to stop outside in the pre-dawn and put on sneakers, and I must quickly be on my way to perform Nana bus duties.
Socks with sandals won.
So. What’s your vote? YES for socks, NO for no socks. Bonus points if you admit to wearing socks with your sandals.
Compliments of my cousin, Melissa, we enjoyed her cast iron skillet breakfast casserole. So mouth-watering, fragrant, and tasty! I can’t wait to play with the recipe when I get home.
Cast Iron Breakfast Casserole
Ingredients:
1 package tater tots
1 dozen eggs
1 cup diced turkey ham (or your ham choice)
1 cup grated cheese
salt and pepper
butter
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Generously butter inside of seasoned cast iron skillet.
3. Line bottom and edges with tater tots.
4. Sprinkle ham over tater tot crust.
5. In separate bowl, whisk eggs until well combined. Add salt and pepper to taste and mix. Pour over ham and crust. (Cayenne would be great, too!).
6. Sprinkle cheese on top.
7. Bake in oven. Start checking at 45 minutes by jiggling pan for movement or sticking fork in center for doneness. We like a crispy crust, so ours cooked for about 1 hour.
8. Remove from oven. It will continue to cook for a bit more. Slice and serve while warm. Delish!
Optional toppings: salsa or ketchup (for the youngers, not me), chopped green onions, sour cream, Tabasco. I’d like to experiment with green peppers, green chilis, spinach, broccoli, kale, and cherry tomatoes, though not all at once. Mmm.
Thanks, Melissa! I am inspired to re-season my cast iron skillet and whip up some breakfast casserole!
I love the simple but hilarious tale of a giraffe who is continuously mistaken for a chair by other jungle animals. He is extremely creative as he tries to educate others about their misdirected assumptions so he can stop being a chair.
Brilliantly colored illustrations add depth and life to the story and will attract young readers as they see life on the wild side (though recognizable as sort of like going to school). Well done, Ross Burach, in story telling through words and images.
This book is great for young and old readers.
KID KANDY
Make a Chair
Materials: whatever you find in your jungle environment
1. Search your jungle.
2. Find interesting items that look comfy and sturdy.
3. Make a chair. Does it look like Giraffe? Or a different jungle animal, like a pillow monster or box creature? Give your chair a name. Have someone take a picture of you sitting on your chair.
Talk to Me Tuesday presents “Living in a Small Community.”
It’s true. The part about the rumor mill running well on schedule.
My honey of 33 married years ran into someone we know today. This person said she just HAD to ask him a question, HAD to know if it was true.
“Is Angie pregnant?”
At first, flabbergasted, my honey thought it was my youngest brother and his wife, since this is true for them. But no, the acquaintance was sure it was me.
Pregnant at 55 (and a half). Now ladies my age, what are the chances that you can get pregnant? I mean there might be a small tiny itsy bitsy chance that you could get pregnant. Minuscule. Having reached the age of hot flashes and the Big “M,” to mention other circumstances, my getting pregnant is impossible (times 3).
When my honey came home and told me he had something to share, this was not even on the horizon. Not an inkling of pregnancy gossip floated through my mind. Lots of other gossip fodder about our personal lives are making the rounds, but preparing for a newborn. Nope. Though I adored being pregnant and having precious babies, this body is retired from fecundity.
Then again, I could say yes and ask for a baby shower. That would be fun! I would ask for gift cards and dark chocolate treats, maybe a very funny game to play.
Seriously people. Judging from personal experiences and everything I’ve ever read about small communities, gossip (true and false) travels from lips to ears in the blink of an eye. If I were one of those tricksy people, I could have lots of fun with this.
Alas. I. Am. Not. Pregnant.
There are plenty of other true things I would rather talk and pray about. Babies needing a new heart, a mother missing for several days, a pastor who committed suicide (depression and anxiety) and left his family behind. And the true not so bad things like back-to-school of the grands and valley students, a new restaurant serving great food, a friend who needs help with a yard sale, or the burgeoning garden which threatens to overtake the RV with tendrils, vines, and butternut squash.
I’d rather spread gossip about good things, like how the Lord has blessed my family, or how gorgeous is His creation, and oh, yes, I can’t wait for the magnificence of fall colors!
A mouth-running-over checklist:
*Is it true?
*Is it kind?
*Will it hurt someone?
*Is the source trustworthy?
*Is is necessary to repeat at all?
*Can I keep my mouth shut?
*Will God be pleased if I share this (or listen to this)?
*What should I do with this information? (Hint: Ignoring it is usually a good choice, unless someone truly needs help.)
Talk to Me Tuesday. Talk about positive topics, uplifting events, good news. Though I have to admit, this is pret-ty funny. AND I truly appreciated the question coming directly to us, instead of being whispered behind our backs. Thank you for asking if this was true!
Talk to you later.
From a small community (non-pregnant) woman.
Not saying I’m perfect AT ALL. This verse is a prayer for my mouth.
“Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!”
-Psalm 141:3
Photo credit: Me, pregnant with our first baby, Taylor. Taken in May 1988.
Nature abounding in the woods and along mountain tops strips away the stresses of the modern world, the work world, the life-filled with garbage. In the woods, I find home. I imagine places I could build shelter or a cozy cabin and projects for harvested pinecones and rocks. I dreamily discover that perfect rock chair so I can just simply sit and listen to the burble of a small stream or the wind whipping through canyons and treetops.
I relax. The fragrances of wilderness, fir trees, clean dirt, evergreens, mountain breezes. They cleanse noise-city-dirty air-vehicle polluted senses and engage my entire sensory system.
My imagination runs wild at times, inspired by pencil-thin bouncing hooves of deer and bunny-tail rumps disappearing under shrubs. What was that noise? Is a bear nibbling berries on the other side of this patch? Will mosquitoes or wasps or ticks invade my body? Is a hungry cougar lounging over the trail, ready to pounce? Should I perhaps be thinking about how I would survive if I became lost? Is the birdsong loud and joyous or absent and ominous?
I am at home. I feel free to dream and imagine and just be. I drink deeply of the mountain air, listen intently to the sounds of God’s creation at its most pure.
It’s been too long without my woodsy home. To the mountains, to the woods, I must return.
The Wheetley sisters had a weekend get-together a few weeks ago, hosted by my cousin and me. Ranging from 73 to 90, the four siblings are getting to the age where each trip just might be the last.
But persist, we did. Now I’m not going to mention age-related issues, but let’s just toss out a few things to consider if you are planning a cabin-in-the-woods adventure for the mature crowd.
Steps. There will be steps. Unfortunately our cabin had NO handrails for the stairs climbing to the deck and front door. Gorgeous building, plenty of room, majestic pine trees, amusing chipmunks (squirrels? we could never decide) living in the roof of the cabin next door. But NO handrails.
The rule of thumb became: No one goes UP or DOWN the stairs unless Melissa or Angie is offering arm support (and perhaps humming the bridal march). I won’t mention names, but one of us did not follow the rules. And fell down the stairs. So there is that to consider.
Stubborn independence. We Wheetley’s are an independent lot. I think this character trait strengthens with age. Maybe even quadruples. Just be forewarned.
Food. The two of us planned excellent meals, if I don’t say so myself. But we planned way TOO much. I went to the cabin with an ice chest full of food. I came home with an ice chest full of food. Not the same food, but most of the leftovers. I think smaller meals and lots of tasty snacks (zucchini bread, blueberries, fudge, fresh fruit, and cheese seemed to be the favorites). Keep that in mind. And always ALWAYS check the lid on new fresh pepper grinders before adding pepper to a pan of quiche that’s ready to go in the oven. Ah-hem.
Hot tub. We enjoyed the in-deck hot tub surrounded by towering trees and blue skies. And neighbors going to and fro on the nearby road, but who’s worried about an audience? The STEPS rule came into play at the hot tub, with the added element of danger due to the slippery water. I’m convinced we could have videotaped us trying to maneuver all of us into and out of the water and won big money on American’s Funniest Home Videos. But the only one who fell in was Melissa, I mean, a younger person who was in charge of keeping everybody else safe.
Games. Puzzles. Crafts. Oh, my! Surprisingly, these were not the hit. Socializing, grazing, and sipping before meal drinks were the favored activities. Three of us enjoyed working two puzzles. I colored in an adult coloring book (and later turned that paper into stamped cards, thank you very much). So I wouldn’t worry too much about planning extra activities. Family stories and funny incidents made up most of our adventure. And toting along a few chick flicks is a good idea. We enjoyed movies after dinner.
Giggling. This will happen. At any time of day or night. And certain somebody’s might sneak into the sisters’ bed to warm up and giggle some more. Can we say adorable?
We did make 2 short outings. One day we hit the thrift store and fudge shop, bringing back probably 2 million calories in a variety of fudgy flavors. A different day we took a drive to see the lake. No getting out, just a scenic tour.
Where does the RV genetic link come in? My husband and I have been living in an RV two years this month. This is temporary (I hope) as we figure out the building a small home process, but still, we are living in an RV. During our many trips down memory lane, I realized that three of the four sisters spent at least two years living in RVs! Let me say that in no way have I ever wanted to live long-term in an RV, yet here I am. Genetically predisposed? Or environmentally influenced?
Either way, I love my Wheetleys, whether it’s their fault I’m in the RV or not. Wink, wink. And we had a great time and made new memories.
SURVEY TIME: Are there any other Wheetleys who live (or lived) in an RV? How about the Hill side of the family?
Stamping is always a holiday of sorts, taking me away from the regularly scheduled program. Mixed media (stamps, inks, water colors, markers, patterned papers, trinkets, ribbons, glitter glue) form the foundation of creativity.
One other ‘most important’ component of rubber stamping and creating is engaging with a partner. The back and forth bouncing of ideas, materials, and suggestions energizes the joy and productiveness of the hobby.
In addition, two or more crafters mean combined stamps, tools, and resources! In essence, the community of supplies multiplies opportunities for creativity!
Besides, it’s much more enjoyable to chat and solve the world’s problems with a friend while I’m involved in a fun pastime.
I suppose this habit of working with a partner to be applied to nearly every pursuit in life: writing, rearing a family, hiking, building a career, preparing meals, cleaning, going to college, pursuing spiritual growth…
When did I begin writing for preschoolers? WAY back when.
I’m so glad my honey took this photo. This was my first trip to Birmingham, Alabama, to attend a writer’s conference and begin writing curriculum and products for Mission Friends (preschool missions education materials).
Chelsie was three, Taylor was five, and I had dark hair (and hair, period). Judging by how old they are now, I’ve been writing for Woman’s Missionary Union for about 28 years. Time flies when preschoolers are having fun and this writer is loving every minute of the journey.
What a blessing it is to remember this opportunity from the Lord! I so love preschoolers. You know, that age is one of the funnest ever! (I know, I know. There are other ages that are also super fun. Okay, you caught me. I adore them all.)
Sweet babies, fantastic supporting husband, and dreams for endless learning activities. Now my babies have given me five grands, with three going to school this fall and only two still at home.
Enjoy those moments, mama and daddy! Those babies are gonna grow up too fast and before you know it, you’ll have a lap full of your own grands.
How about sharing a Throwback Thursday moment of your own?
Love, Laughter, and Life 