chihuahua chases the rooster!

Oh my gosh, this was so funny! Of course these dingbats never do this stuff when I’m filming!

I was throwing the ducks, chickens and both dogs pieces of chicken (yes, there’s something sick, yet intriguing to feed chickens chicken!)
when Chippie finally got a piece close enough to grab.

BUT, as soon as Chippie picked it up, one of the roosters standing next to him, grabbed the meat right out of his mouth! Hahaha haha! 🐔

That’s not the best part! That rooster took off running with Chippie chasing him to get his tiny piece of food back. Of course there wasn’t anywhere for the rooster to run and hide under, so they ran around and around the Jeep! A large rooster with a big piece of meat hanging out of his beak being chased by a tiny growling chihuahua!

I’m not sure who got it because they were on the other side of the Jeep when I heard a bark, squawk, sounds of a scuffle a couple of feathers flying up into the air. Honestly, I think Biscuit got it because he came from around the car licking his chops! 🐕

Saying goodby to the Caddy

My mother had to give up her beloved Caddy today. It was too much to fix beyond what the insurance company was willing to pay.

So, we sold it to the salvage yard.

As my mother tearfully reminisced about her 20 year old car ‘baby’ to the patiently listening man, I went out to the Caddy and sat inside for a moment. I started to cry as my own memories of this much loved car came out of my heart.

I ran my hand along the dash board taking in its familiar smell, remembering how I used to laugh with my mom inside this car and the last time I let her drive me anywhere in it.

I could see 9 year old Kyle buckled in the back seat waving at me as grandpa and grandma drove away, taking him home with them for a weekend of fun.

I cried.

I thanked God for blessing my mom with this car for so many years. I thanked Him for the memories I share with my mom going to garage sales, carting the grandkids around, filling the back seat with groceries.

I know it’s just a car, but ‘Charlotte’ was part of our family and we loved her.

When I was finished thanking God while slowly walking down memory lane with cherry red Charlotte, I got mother into the Jeep to leave.
I asked her if she wanted to say goodbye to her baby. She said that she just couldn’t, please drive away. She wouldn’t even look back.

I understood.

Mom and I both cried together when we left. For me, it’s a part of my life with my mom, my children when they were young.

For my mom…it was last thing my dad bought for her when they had money, it was her independence, it was something she cherished.

As we parted ways with her beloved Caddy, a big part of mom’s heart remained in the parking lot. We sat at Clear lake and cried a little more.
God has a plan. He will take this heartbreak, turning it into something wonderful just for her.

God makes all things new and ‘uses it all’. He knows why the Caddy had to go. In the meantime, I am now her taxi cab for everything…a job I am honored and blessed to do! 🚗 💔🙏

The glass house

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.

kyles_story #addieacres

Buyers and alpacas!

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??

Watering mothers flowers in the rain

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. 🤠🦙🦃

Chippies birthday party?

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!

addieacres #chippie_tude

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. 🙃

Car stickers and goats

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?! 🤔

Goats and buyers!

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!

Searching with Mother!

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!

Sheesh. 👵💖💡