As most of you know, we have a nice room that is on Airbnb (bed & breakfast). We have an older couple staying with us all weekend from N. Carolina. They aren’t exactly animal people and have no interest meeting the large fur balls in the pasture who have been staring at them like stalkers every time they go outside to eat on the porch. The llamas along with Dunkay, line up at the fence and watch these folks…every move they make, they see it…watching…waiting…hoping they will come over and give them a treat. Heck, it even creeps me out! Any who…I got up this morning and went downstairs to check on my guest. They were standing by the front door, in their jammies, holding plates of food and coffee. They looked a bit ‘startled’. I asked what was wrong. They told me they fixed some eggs and toast went outside to eat, hoping to enjoy the beautiful morning, when Dunkay barreled through the gate and galloped straight towards their plates of food! They sat there frozen to the chairs not sure if they should give up their breakfast to the beast or grab everything and run! They chose the latter! They got up, held the plates high and quickly walked to the front porch. Dunkay knocked over a chair and broke a plate as these two elderly folks tried to get away! After he was done ‘wrecking havoc’ as she put it…he trotted to the front porch where they were trying to eat and demanded all the food…NOW! They ran back into the house, stood at the door, staring at it in disbelief. That’s where I came in. I assured them that he really is harmless, and coaxed them back to the kitchen. I tried to make a joke out of it, but they didn’t think it was funny. They just looked at me with a blank stare! I went outside looking for Mr Pain In the Butt. He was already back in the barn harassing the chickens. I swept up the shattered plate, picked up the chair and scolded Dunkay as he stood inside the barn with his head peeking around the corner cause he knows better! I don’t think these folks will be back.
The glass house
Some days I feel like I’m trapped in the glass house maze at the fair. There are times when I stand at the opening of the maze to see hundreds of myself staring back, with each image reflecting back a memory, an emotion, a dream, a regret. Some even stare back at me with pity or anger.
On the days I find myself on the stage of mirrors, I know I have to go inside and find myself, the one that reaches out to give me peace, but it’s so hard to find that one reflection that keeps all the others from calling me. They call me to stand in front of them and stare at images that want me to be trapped like them, inside the glass mirrors that hold anger, helplessness, anxiety or depression.
So I slowly walk through the maze of myself, searching for that single mirror that holds everything good amongst the pain. Most times I find it right away because that image is clear, clean and seems to have a slight glow among the other mirrors. In contrast, the other mirrors are dulled and stained with tear streaks or finger marks from trying to get out.
I also have to keep myself away from the mirrors that distort my image, making me see myself the way the world wants to reflect instead of the Living God’s persistent loving.
Those mirrors of distortion are the hardest to walk past and not stare at because I want to agree with them, shouting out, “see, I knew I wasn’t anything better than smudge marks or special in any way!”
So, I walk through the maze of mirrors, at times getting lost, running into dead ends, putting my hand on the hand that reaches for me on the other side, telling myself that I’m sorry that I can’t help you! I walk and walk, searching for the real me, the person that smiles back at me, encouraging me to keep going where there is an exit from all the images that hold so much pain.
Nancy will find the way out, because Jesus walks with her in the maze of life that traps me at times. He always leads me to the one true image of myself, the one that has hope, hangs onto dreams given by the King of Kings, the one that knows how to smile, who knows Love and gives it out, the only image in there that will drop her to her knees as the other ones stare and worship Jesus, thanking Him for the pain as well as the joy in my personal house of mirrors.
Okay, this was great!
I sold an item on Facebook and the nice gentleman came to pick it up for his wife.
I heard Biscuit barking, so I looked out the window to see him standing at the end of our sidewalk. I opened the door only to walk straight into Lincoln our alpaca who was guarding my front door!
The nice man said in a nervous voice, “I didn’t know if he would attack me, so I didn’t come up.” I assured him that this dingbat was harmless and that he likes to hang on the porch with me or stare at us through the door and windows.
He then cautiously walked up to talk with me as an alpaca, 2 inches from me, stared him down. Of course, as soon as I handed him the plastic bag, goat Cocoa Latte appeared out of thin smoke and tried to eat the bag he was holding!
So, here this nice, quiet older gentleman was standing on the sidewalk talking to some nutty farm lady with an alpaca next her on the front porch as a goat not only tried to eat the treasures he just bought, but jumped up on him. Yup, Cocoa jumped not once, not twice, but three times as I scolded him like he was a naughty 4 year old!
Question is…will they ever dare to buy something from us again??
Fun with Mother
I decided to visit mother today and, of course, it was raining, so we sat on the front porch like a couple of old ladies waving at the cars driving past. Since, Mother is much, much much much much older than I and likes to use her ‘respect your elders’ guilt trip on me whenever she can.
Today it was, ‘I know it’s raining, but it’s not very heavy, you need to go out there and water my flowers!’ I’m like, ‘Say what? Come again? I’m sorry, my hearing must be off! I’m not understanding you…you’re mumbling out nonsense again! You are kidding right? Are you punking me?’
She picked up her cane, pointed it at me and, with all her ferocious 87 years, demanded that I water her flowers…NOW! So, like the good daughter that I am, who respects her elders, I stomped out in the middle of her yard with her hose, in the downpour and watered her flowers!
If you happened to drive past my mother’s house and saw some idiot standing in the rain with a hose watering flowers, yup, it was me.
PS Good thing I have Chad around to balance out the ‘unreasonable demands’ cycle to balance out the universe. 🤠🦙🦃
I don’t know why Chad rolls his eyes at me, shakes his head or goes into a trance like the dingbats do when I’m lecturing them in the barn about accepting ‘that pig’ as part of the family…because I’m trying to share a great idea that I came up with that would be fun!
This morning I snuggled up to my half awake better half and shared one of my best ideas with my loving, wants to please me by fulfilling all my wishes hubby before his brain fully woke up!
Chippie is turning 10 this Fall! 10! That’s a big birthday for Mr Growly! So I thought we could throw him a huge party here at the farm! We could invite all 5000 Facebook followers, make a huge bonfire that the satellites could see from space, have a cake where pretty little doggies dressed in frilly pink tutus could jump out of, make the llamas wear party hats, teach Remi (Chad’s pig) to grunt out the happy birthday song, and have the goats learn a tap dance as the band we hired playes ‘How much is that doggie in the window!’
I rambled on and on about invitations with chippies paw print on it, the gifts I could buy him, how Chad could give Dunkay a bath so he looks dapper, everyone wear a doggie bone hat, games we could play such as pin the feather on the turkey or dunk for chicken feet also affectionately known as Chicken Paws (🤢), have doggie races, set up a photo booth where folks can take pics with a snarling chippie…you know…fun stuff!
I happily chit chatted for over an hour to my hubby who was trapped between me and the wall, so he had to listen to every exciting detail!
I got done with all my plans for him making chippies dream party come true, sat up and asked him what he thought! Should I start working on the invites now? Do I start calling around for a baker who has dancing dogs that jump out of cakes? What kind of band should we hire?
What man what? Help me out here!
Chaddie looked at me with both eyes opened now, and said, “you have finally lost it and I’m not doing any of it! We’re not have having a stupid party for a dog!!”
I thought about it for a almost 3.7 seconds and agreed…instead we’ll make it a private family party (and only half of the Facebook follows) without the dancing dogs leaping out of a 10 foot cake, we’ll just have a 6 foot long doggie bone cake made out of rawhide! We will hire a DJ instead that plays Old McDonald along with other fun farm songs all night! It’ll just be us, a grandchild or two, or three or four or five or six or seven (I’ve lost count!)…but our animal’s have to wear party hats and hum, scream, grunt, winnie, crow, quack and baaaaa out the happy birthday song that HE will teach them to do lined up like little soldiers! And the one thing my faithful hubby must do…give that donkey a bath and brush out those llamas!
See, I can compromise!
Today was Mother Marathon day, which is always an adventure. Today was no exception. And what fun things happened you ask? Well, mother managed to get her hand stuck in her pocket. Yes, you read right, her hand was stuck…in…her…pocket!
I was standing in the store mesmerized by colorful flashing neon words promising renewed strength, extra energy, and sure to make me feel like I could climb a mountain, scale a wall or maybe run a 2000 mile marathon without stopping, when mother came up and tried to whisper the latest “something important” in my ear.
Of course, I couldn’t hear her and asked her to speak up. Mother loudly said that her hand was stuck in her pocket! I blinked a couple of times, scratched my head, squinted my eyes at her and said, “Say what?!”
She cupped her mouth with her free hand and said, “My hand…it’s stuck in my pocket!” Again, I looked her up and down suspiciously and said, “come again?!” She hit me in the arm and pointed with her free hand to her other hand that was, yes that’s right, stuck in her pocket!
I automatically rolled my eyes like I do when I’m in the barn scolding llamas, and let out a big sigh. Then, grabbed her stuck hand and pulled! By gosh, it wouldn’t come out!
Now I’m looking around for Allen Funt to come out from behind the medicine aisle and shout, “SMILE! YOUR ON CANDID CAMERA!” When that didn’t happen, I paused for Twilight Zone music to fill the store! Nope, nothing happened, it was real! Mother’s hand was stuck in her pocket!
So I glared at her and asked, “What did you do?”
She glared back and said, “Nothing, I just reached into my pocket to get a Hall’s cough drop because my mouth is dry, and my hand wouldn’t come out!”
With increasing resolve, I grabbed her hand and pulled. STUCK!
There we were, at an impasse in the middle of Walmart, me pulling on an elderly lady’s arm as she wailed out, “OUCH, NOT SO HARD, STOP YOU’RE HURTING ME!” I expected the police to come around the corner any moment, with guns drawn, to arrest me for elder abuse!
Finally, after a few more pulls, my mother’s hand magically slipped out with ease.
I looked at her, she looked at me, we both looked at her free hand, laughed and went on our merry way!
Only us. 🙃
Note to self…never attempt to put on a car license plate sticker with a goat nearby.
Yes, that’s right, I thought I’d better get my 2022 sticker on my license plate before Chad gets in trouble for not doing it. So, I went to my Jeep with the sticker still stuck on the registration paper to put it on.
As soon as I took that extremely sticky sticker off, goat Cocoa Latte came running up and put his little goat mouth on it thinking it was a tasty treat just for him! Yep, you guessed it, I played tug and war with a goat and the tiny orange sticker proving that I paid for my plates!
Fortunately, he didn’t eat it and I got it out of his mouth with little damage. I scolded him, pushed him away and tried to put it on the plate…key word…tried! That goofy goat head butted my hand just as I put it on my personalized plate causing it to be crooked. And, believe me, once those stickers are on, they ain’t never coming off. Grrrrr!
I stood there looking at my pitiful attempt, getting mad that my sticker was obviously sideways and featured goat saliva stains. But wait, there’s more, then he grabbed the registration out of my hand and ran towards goat friend Oreo to share the paper treat.
Yep, you again guessed correctly, Nancy ran after that dingbat goat before my Jeep registration became an afternoon snack for two naughty goats. Once again I played tug of war with a goat as the other one chewed on my coat.
What a sight that must have been! A wacky farmer lady tugging with a goat yelling at him as she pushed the other one away while it was eating her coat!
Why me?! Where’s Super Farmer (and his chewable coat) when you need him?! 🤔
This was funny.
I sold something on a Facebook garage sale site and the guy came to pick it up. When he got here, I told him to stay behind the fence and that I would bring it to him because my goats where out in the yard and they’re worse than dogs when it comes to jumping up on people. In fact, they like to circle folks like a spinning top. I can’t walk to the barn with out those two dingbats acting like a merry-go-round as I push them them away from from me!
Anyhoo….I saw him pull up so I quickly grabbed his new treasure, slightly opened the door, peeked out to see where dip and dap were, and saw no animals anywhere (which always worries me…did they escape? Are they dead in the barn? Did aliens beam them up?). So I snuck out to meet the young man patiently waiting for me behind the fence when, out of nowhere, I see these two blobs of fur running towards me!
Now I’m running to the gate as these darn goats chase me. That poor guy, he was probably wondering if he should just run himself back to the car and get the heck outta there before this crazy lady carrying a large painting, running towards him with two goats loudly baaaaa’ing galloping behind her, crashed on him!
I got to the fence the same time the dingbats did, handed the shocked guy his prize as both goats stood beside me, one one each side with their front legs on the fence standing up straight. He took his painting, handed me the money as he looked at Cocoa Latte beside me (I had my arm around him like a dog) and I said to him, “darn goats, they’re worse than dogs!”
The nice man nodded with a half grin look of unbelief and walked backwards to his car to make sure nothing attempted to follow him from the funny farm!
My mini mother marathon yesterday turned into another search party!
All I was suppose to do was take her to the bank…simple, fast, easy. Riiiiight!
Mother lost her garage door opener! Yep. She put it on her car trunk with her many magazines that she believes I want to read after she’s done with them and when we were finally ready to leave, was it there?
Mother insisted that she left the not so small garage door opener on the 16″ pile of magazines on her trunk. I put my hand up to my forehead and shook my head in my famous ‘here we go again’ shake!
A new search has begun. Just 10 days ago Chad and I spent hours, maybe days looking for mother’s teeth that she put on the pillow next to her head for safe keeping. Every other week, I’m helping Mother to locate her mail box key that she was sure she had in her hand 30 seconds before I got there!
I probably should invest in a hard hat with a flashlight attached to it, knee pads and a long stick that can grab ahold of anything hiding under dressers, beds, lazyboy chairs and behind toilets (yep, eeewww).
Mother and I looked under, behind, between, into, around and around until I got dizzy. We went through the trash, pushed aside rocks outside and inside the freezer. Did we find it?
No we did not!
Finally, after an hour of forcing my arthritis to flare up in joints and muscles I never knew existed, I took a picture of her garage door machine with the model number and informed my mother who was half buried in the trash can that I was going to order two brand new ones on Amazon tonight. No more searching! (my body can’t take it)
Thank goodness it wasn’t her teeth again, I draw the line at ordering dentures from Amazon!
Yep, I saw this yesterday at Walmart and thought to myself, ‘oh my gosh! I gotta have this for the barn!’The barn you ask? Yes…the barn!
We could hang it just inches from Dunkay and the llama’s heads providing hours of fun for bored animals that are crammed inside the barn all winter with nothing to do but annoy each other due to boredom! Instead of pushing each other out of the warm spot, they could have hours of fun looking up at Santa wondering why in the heck a fat guy is floating around, who is that present for with the teddy bear that looks like its about to fall out, and what sweet goodies are hidden inside?
Dunkay will be fascinated with the pretty colors, after all, the only colors in the barn are browns and green (he loves green, the color of hay!) mixed with black. I can picture the donkey going in circles under Santa with a puzzled look on his fuzzy face trying to come up with ways to get up there and see what’s in that box with the red ribbon all the while wondering if that teddy bear cuddles? After all, he’s always wanted a bear to cuddle up with at bedtime!
I can also imangine that the llamas would be interested in it for about 24.2 seconds. They are smarter than the average bear…quickly figuring out that this Santa is not the one who will be bringing them presents in 3 short weeks. So they will stare at it, glance at each other in a ‘you got to be kidding’ look, spit at it for a reaction, and when they don’t get one, trot back to the warm spot and start up the argument of who gets to stand in it first.
Once settled, mini-pig Remi will watch indifferently as Dunkay persists and starts jumping up and down under the inflatable to make Santa move from to side…so let the games begin!
Yep, I gotta get one for the barn! Hopefully tom Turkey BOB won’t see jolly St. Nick as yet another intruder on his turf and fly up to rip it open!
Well, it was my M.M. (mother marathon) day.
As always, it was an adventure mixed with comedy, unbelief, and ‘only us’.
Mother had to go to Al’s. Not the one in LP! Noooooooo….she absolutely had to go to the one in MC! Of course, she didnt tell me this until we were within one block of the Al’s here.
So, I turned the Jeep around and headed for Michigan City grumbling under my breath. Mother yip yapped about old lady things all the way there…things that scare me and that I don’t want to hear about!
We got to the Michigan City Al’s and got in with no problem. We santized her cart, readjusted her mask, lectured her about social distancing and let her go! She took off at turtle speed and weaved herself around people keeping her required space between them and her. I took off in the opposite direction to find things I didn’t need.
After a couple of days or hours, maybe minutes…I found her in the dairy aisle. I passed her going the opposite direction…we nodded at each other and kept our distance. I needed to turn around and went back down the aisle in the opposite direction. Mother had to turn around too, and we passed each other again on the opposite side. But, again…I had to turn around, I did, only to find Mother coming at me again!
We stopped in the middle across from each other where Mother accused me of spying on her to make sure her mask was on. I assured her that I just needed to turn around to find my items…three times. So I asked her why SHE was going up and down the same aisle? She couldn’t remember.
Then, I’m not kidding, she got her finger stuck in a little loop in the seat by the handle! Really? First she loses her teeth earlier this week and now her finger is stuck in a tiny hole on the cart? Mother is working and working trying to unstuck her finger! I’m rolling my eyes and she’s getting mad as her mask goes in and out with her angry breathing!
I kept expecting to hear on the intercom, “Security, there are two wacky ladies lost in aisle 5 and one seems to be stuck on her cart!” Only to hear someone respond, “I see them Bob, I’m video taping them for evidence of why I need a raise!”