FYI (If you are a middle aged mother of teen boys)

Yesterday a blog post popped up on my timeline a number of times.  I try not to address political or religious posts because no one wants to or needs to hear my opinion.  But this falls into a category that I cannot ignore – our children.  Two friends who praised the post retracted it after they really read it but more friends shared and praised it.  I wrote this parody, matching her points to my own.  As I did I realized even more how twisted this mother’s approach and thinking was; miss-targeted, sexist, and manipulating all wrapped up in a cheery “but we really love you” tone of voice.
The following is not written in a way that I would address someone…. it’s horrible really, but hopefully the format better illustrates my point.

FYI (If you are a middle aged mother of teen boys)

Dear Mothers,

I have an opinion that might interest you.  I was sitting in front of my laptop eating my cereal in the morning, as I sometimes do, and several FB friends brought to my attention a blog post.

Wow! What a detailed and heart felt blog post you wrote in such a tedious twisted manner.  I noticed that because I am trying to emulate your writing style right now.  But I also notice other things.  For one, it appears you believe teenage girls to be sluts and teenage boys helpless targets.

I get it – you are in your room and you feel cold and frigid.  Maybe you should arch your back, pout a little, strike a red carpet pose and see if that triggers your blood to warm.  That must not be a posture you would ever assume as you are getting ready for bed – this I know.

So here is the thing I think you should realize.  Teenage boys should be taught to respect girls as equally sexual and empowered partners.

Please understand this.  We are not against you just your sexist opinion.  Otherwise, we really liked your blog post.  We know you are a good Mom with your heart in the right place which is what makes your blog post so unfortunate.  

God forbid teenage boys ever think of a girl in a sexual way!  Did you know that you are potentially raising controlling boys who are ashamed of their sexual thoughts and even more so of their girlfriends’?

I didn’t think so.

And so, in my home, I expect kids to mess up.  I expect them to struggle as their bodies change.  If I see them waiver I will do what I can to steer them straight.  With the hope that one day they will be understanding, forgiving, confident, respectful partners in their relationships.  They will get second chances, and third, and forth chances to grow and mature because that’s what it takes.

Mothers, it’s not too late!  If you think you have made an online mistake RUN to take it down.  Talk to your boys and girls.  Tell your sons that girls do not want to be porn stars (because you know they are seeing that crap in the internet); they want to be asked, respected, and behave intuitively without pressure.  Tell your girls they should not be ashamed to want to feel attractive or sexual.  That they should only ever do what they feel is right and anyone who targets, pressures, or disrespects them should be kicked off their island.

I know that sounds obvious and intelligent. But that’s the way it is in our home; we hope to raise boys who respect women and are comfortable with their own sexuality.

Every day I pray for parents to teach their young sons and daughters to have respect for the opposite sex and to proceed into relationships with honesty, and good will.  I hope that my sons will not look down upon women as someone they have to “wait for” but as equals who are sexual beings in their own right.

Do you trust me?  Are you are saying that young men are fighting a daily uphill battle just to keep their thoughts pure but it’s the girls who are targeted for uncrossing their legs or posting a picture they think is cute?  That double standard is old as dirt and about as palatable as dirt.

Educate your sons and daughters, respect that they are changing, give them the knowledge they need to grow as gracefully as possible, and forgive them when they blunder.   

I’m glad we’re friends.

Entrepreneur? Doesn't feel right

Calling yourself an entrepreneur seems tacky, like giving yourself a nickname or declaring that you are witty. Plus, I have a hard time pronouncing it. I tried "cottage industry" on for size but that doesn't make sense to me; might as well say "Hobbit Conglomerate" or "Treehouse Manufacturing." I imagine a quaint tiny earthy space where little people toil away and the boss is pulling her hair out because she wishes she had a more productive work space. I think I already wrote a whole blog post about the murky waters of calling yourself and artist; that's like walking up to the deli counter and saying "I'd like meat and cheese." (picture the annoyed need-more-information look.)

I'll wear "small business owner" for a while and see how that feels. It's not that I don't understand the need for these names and labels. I do. I can't very well go around saying "I am a fine artist specializing in fiber sculpture, which is made by poking wool with a needle over and over, and further more I am branching into providing supplies, kits, and services in this field."

Yours Truly,
Small Business Owner
Sara Renzulli

This is for you Etsy Sellers

Are you an Etsy seller? Here are some tips....

The 10 Commandments of Etsy

Stay Current - Shoppers are usually set on the chronological sort option. If you have not listed in a week your item might be as far back as the 10^th page. Be sure to list something on a regular basis. If you do not have anything new to list than renew an existing listing.

Love your Shop like a baby – Your etsy shop needs to be nurtured. Shoppers can tell the difference between half heartedly listing stuff you have laying around and investing your energy into making a shop that expresses you and your art.

Have some Cohesion – Visually it is pleasing and inspires confidence in the buyer. It would be great if we all made and sold one thing - a plethora of perfected items from which the shopper could choose the perfect one. But we are all scatterbrained artists following the muses. At least photograph your items with the same background and be consistent in your style of description.

Use Great Photos! – Good photos are not good enough. Especially when you are selling something like jewelry and have 1000s of competitors. Etsy prides itself on being a visual feast. To be on the menu you have to go top shelf with your photography.

Provide something extra – Packaging, service, documentation, communication... customers want to be babied. If you treat a customer as if they are the sister you never knew you had, they will be your customer for life. Give them that something extra. Let them know that you appreciate that they spent their hard earned money on something you made.

Use all of your tags – you have 13 “tags,” key words to direct your customer to your product. Make sure to use all 13. These descriptive words can be subject, occasion, color, texture, feeling, season, use, etc.

Have a Banner - Your banner is the first thing people see when they visit your shop. It might be worth paying the $15 that other etsy sellers charge to design your banner.

Tell a Story - One of the reasons people shop on etsy is to support the little guy. You are honed in on a market that cares about the origin and artistry of a product. Give your shoppers more to go on; describe why you were inspired to make and item, what you personally love about it, an anecdote about how it came to be, etc. They love this stuff!

Believe in what you offer – There is a buyer for every product out there. Some may be more difficult to sell than others. If you love and believe in what you do than they will come.

"Felt Good" and Other Possible Names

I am driving my family crazy; all I can talk about is launching my business. So I am reaching out into the mysterious internet world with my burning unanswered question, "What should I call my felting business?"

2012 has brought into light many avenues for my felting career. I have spent the new year obsessing over how to navigate the avenues and bring them to fruition. I am on the precipice of change. I want to at least have a parachute before I jump.

Here is what is on my list:
Branding/naming my needle felted art and supplies
Moving my studio out of my home and into a nearby Mill
New website
Unifying my logotype and developing brand recognition
Training help
Marketing kits and supplies

If I do all of this, when will I make the critters?! And when I do make them, what the heck will I call them?

Here are few names:
Sarafina
Pelli
Pocafella
Felt Good
Soul Felt
Stock Pile

In the meantime here is a picture of a recent critter so that this post was not a complete waste of your time...

Horses and Leather

These are a few of my favorite things. It's like chocolate and peanut butter, cookies and milk, snow and a sled, cheese and more cheese. Horses and leather are good alone but together take it to a whole new level of sublime.

Saddles, tack, saddle bags, holsters, boots (boots really deserve their own post), fringe, chaps, scabbards, sheathes. I love them all. I admire the stitching, the craftsmanship, the smell, the feel, the look, the practicality.


I am in the process of transitioning from English to western riding. English of course has it's own appeal; tailored, classic, and athletic. But western riding opens up a whole new world of well made tack, utilitarian horsemanship, American history, and purposeful riding.

Ortho Flex fit her but not me - sent it back

In the search to find a well fitting western saddle for my wide horse I have been on quite a learning curve. Although I have been riding for 30 years, the Western lingo is completely different. The tack has mostly the same parts but different names. They are measured differently. The saddle sits differently on the horse. The rider sits differently in the saddle. There is a lot to learn.

Beautiful roping saddle did not fit her - sold it on ebay

I have also realized, after three saddle purchases in an effort to find the right one, that I love western saddles. I can see myself becoming a collector. (Don't tell Dave). Maybe a saddle to go with every pair of boots?

Fisto admires the saddle I bought yesterday, a used Circle Y. Hope this one works!

Kittens

Itty Bitty Kitty

I have not properly blogged about our kittens. Perhaps I was being cautious; not wanting to shine a spotlight on them ( if you call call my blog a "spotlight"... more like a candle) until I knew they were going to live through the introductions to the dogs. Seriously.

I think only Dave really knows how much I love kittens and cats. I become transfixed by kittens. (Trying to put the feelings into words would convince you that I am a "crazy animal person" and I'd like to avoid the label.)

The timing is all wrong or all right depending on how you look at it. We are stressed, cramped, and unorganized thanks to the kitchen remodel and so I go and bring home two tiny kittens. While keeping tabs on their safety, whereabouts, and litter box adds to my list, watching them play, having a tiny weightless soft fuzzball asleep on my chest, even watching them sleep, unravels any tension that I might have.

After plenty of discussion and days of observing them, we finally named them. Larger, older, spunky male kitten is Fisto. Tiny, younger, runt of a female kitten is Itty Bitty.

Fisto

The dogs seem to have concluded that they are not targets but fixtures in our family. The first night the dogs couldn't leave them alone, sniffing and licking (tasting?) them. The second day they all relaxed. By day three only Maive, our mutt rescue, still had any interest and she seemed to be keeping tabs on their whereabouts and licking them all over as if they were her puppies. Now Maive actually enjoys a gentle paw batting play with them.

Our fat gimpy cat Mrtyle (she deserves her own blog post - good story there) was horrified by the kittens. But she too has settled into their presence. She particularly likes Itty Bitty Kitty and holds her down for a good tongue bath once in a while. If Fisto gets to spunky with her she hisses and bats him with her snaggle foot. Fisto is a bit dense if he doesn't realize that Mrtyle exists to eat and sleep and playing is the last thing she'd ever do.


They have settled in nicely. In a week or two more I can relax further because they will finally be too large for the nearby family of hawks to carry away. Well, Itty Bitty might be at risk of capture by talons till the end of her days.... tiny thing.

Artistic Suicide

I wonder - how many truly successful artists there are out there. Let's define artist as someone who makes a one of a kind product to sell. Let's define success as an income capable of supporting a person: some sort of shelter that at least has insulation; enough food to not be "starving;" enough money to invest back into their career, like buying a laptop, painting supplies, or a pencil perhaps; health insurance would be nice.

To make money selling something that you have created there are two requirements. First, you have to be making something that people want - a lot of people. Second, you have to be able to make enough of it, get it out there, and sell it. This does not come easily to anyone. Few might be so genius either creatively or in the marketing department that they find Easy Street. But for the vast majority we have to work... hard.... forever.

There are further complications with making and selling art. Artists can't sustain their creativity in a constant linear direction. We get something good going and then the muses withdraw their support and send you hurling into another direction of unexplored creativity. Try to sell THIS now. The muses don't stand a chance against THE ECONOMY. We are trying to sell the most superfluous product of human existence; adornment. You can't eat it, drink it, live in it, or even smoke it. When THE ECONOMY has spoken, all artists listen.

The artist's greatest challenge is to find their way through the pitfalls to thrive, create, SELL, defy the muses and THE ECONOMY.

All of this said, I will not be deterred and I personally know dozens of others who have chosen this path. Give your artist a hug. Or even better, buy art.

Mohonk Awesomeness (Evan's title suggestion)

Under the stone arches where the carriages used to pull up to drop off guests

What I love about Mohonk Mountain House:

I don't have to cook - Not only do I not have to think about what the heck I am going to feed my family three times/day and then make it happen, I am SERVED the most fresh, delicious, decadent food I could ask for.

Everywhere you look is something extraordinary - Whether God made it or inspired a person to make it, Mohonk is a visual feast. The mountains, lake, and blooming mountain laurel are the back drop for the sprawling Victorian castle, stone work, antique furniture, gardens, and thoughtful wooden walkways, ladders, steps, and gazebos.

Looking back at the front of the house from a cliff top path

The kids love it - I was lucky enough to create memories at mohonk when I was a kid and this weekend my boys got a chance to make their own. Rock scrambling, great food, picnics, wildlife, swimming, exploring, and happy parents make good memories.


There is so much to do - You can be active all day and never do the same thing twice. Or you can sit like a bum until the next fabulous meal.

Hiking the Laborynth

Family - When you are not busy with work or maintaining your own household you get to focus on the people you love.


History - Next time I will learn more about the history but I am sure it is fascinating!

Dave went exploring in the Barn Museum and took a picture of this steam engine that used to power the place

Seclusion - Just the deer and chipmunks up here.

It's Kind of Like Pregnancy

Incredibly strong truck effortlessly lifting away about 30,000 pounds of concrete ex-floor.

When we embarked on the kitchen remodel, my sister compared it to pregnancy. She said, "In the beginning you are nothing but excited. Planning and dreaming. Then you realize it will be a long road with more than a few bumps (literally in pregnancy). Towards the end you are uncomfortable, cranky, swollen, and wanting it to be over with. And after that you are blessed with the results."

Well, we are not exactly towards the end yet, and I am not swollen, but I can see how the analogy works. I began buying, washing, and folding tiny little unisex clothes long before I was even pregnant. I also dabbled with my rulers, draft paper, pencil, and eraser years before we had $ to tackle the kitchen. Half way through my pregnancy the aches, pains, and unexpected changes crept in. Why does my hip ache? Where are my ankles? No one told me my mind would function at half speed. The kitchen situation has its share of the unexpected and growing pains. I need to make how many decisions by Friday? The plumber (God) is on vacation for how many weeks? No one told me my mind would only function at half speed.

I"d say in pregnancy terms that we are at about 25 weeks. More than half way but the real intensity yet to come.

New door and window openings are in place and floor is ready for radiant heat then concrete.

Contractors

I love my contractor.

I hate my contractor.

I love my contractor.

My contractor and his sub-contractors hold the balance of my sanity in their hands. One day they are Santa Claus on steroids delivering to me the concrete fulfillment of a vision that I have been cultivating for 10 years. The next day they are just the dust swirling in my deconstructed hole of a kitchen. They are strong. Skilled. Seasoned. I need them to do what I can not.

I love my contractors!

When they are here.

Thanks

I am feeling extra blessed today.

The kitchen construction has cast a dark cloud on my mood lately... the irony of being fortunate enough to make such a significant home improvement. I was having difficulty summoning a positive thought to save my life. Overwhelmed, out of balance, buried, deep in a quagmire. Even my back, which has been strong and happy for two years strait, was tight and aching.

In the midst of the night, as I slept, God must have flipped the switch on my moodometer. Maybe it has something to do with the humidity level and temperature dropping significantly. Or that Dave and I crossed several chores off my list yesterday. No matter the reason, I am so relieved to feel back in control, to recognize my good fortune, to be able to bend without a shooting pain, and to have a smile on my face.

I"m going to ride this wave as long as I can!

Carmelita (I wrote this 3 years ago.)

Carmelita by Hammer out of Carmen from Joy to me.

I wasn’t even looking for a horse. And now, I can look out of our home and see Carmelita, my four year old Nokota mare, in our humble pasture. She seems too majestic for our nook carved out of a hill in the “holler” on Providence Road in good ‘ole Cecil County, Maryland.

I first saw Carmelita in some photos in a home made “horse for sale” flyer. I was perusing Joy Cully’s shop, The Merry go Round Room, at Fair Hill International 2006 where I also set up and sell my artwork. “What a neat looking horse,” I remember remarking. “What is a Nokota?” Joy suggested I look up the Conservancy website to find out. I was thrilled to learn about the breed and the efforts to preserve it. But, I wasn’t looking for a horse.

Some Nokotas on Seth Zeigler's Pennsylvania farm: they have to most wonderful colors.

Two months later, I ran into Joy at a Taco Bell in the Perryville outlet mall. Christmas shoppers were hungry and the line was out the door. I didn’t know Joy very well but was still surprised that she was at an outlet mall and in the Taco Bell to boot. We said “hello” and before she left she stopped at my table to talk to me about an art trade. I love to trade so we arranged for me to come to her place.

With the trade completed, the conversation turned from art to animals. “Do you still have that mare you were selling?” I asked. Joy said, “She’s out back. Would you like to meet her?” Of course I would.

One of our first trail rides - I LOVE that she loves water

Despite the fact that I wasn’t even looking for a horse, I visited Carmelita several times that winter, fell more deeply in love, and began to plot how she might end up out my back door. Joy and I got to know each other that winter as well. I realized that Joy was selling Carmelita while still wanting to hold on to her with all of her might. When she realized that Carmelita could be with me and still be a part of HER life, Joy did everything she could to make it easier for me to decide to buy Carmelita. I had work to do though: fences to fix; grass to grow; hay to buy. A horse was coming!

She is everything that other Nokota owners know and are familiar with; strong, brave, curious, calm, noble. And through my relationship with her I get to see that she is even more. Every day I marvel that she is here. I walk up my hill to her and bury my face in her and try to steel some of that strength and grace that comes so easily to her.

Pay attention to what fate throws in your path. I wasn’t looking for a horse, but in a Taco Bell, in the middle of Christmas shopping mayhem, I found one.

Recent trail ride

Thank you Kuntz Family - gaurdians and advocates of the breed. Thank you Joy for making the path to Carmalita as smooth as possible. Thank you to my husband Dave for encouraging me to spend the time and money that horses require so that she can be a part of my life.

Country Living

I have submitted my blog to a "Country Living" magazine Blue Ribbon Blogger Awards contest. If what they say is true, my blog with be reviewed by a panel of "Country Living" Editors and noted bloggers. Do tell! Categories include: Collecting (check), Decorating (not so much), Crafting (I got that goin' on), Entertaining (not lately but, yes), Food (yes, please), Gardening (does it count if I hire that out?), Green (my recycling bin is green), Home Renovation (indeed! please see previous posts of our kitchen), Lifestyle (WAY country), Pets (we have enough I think).

Here in the holler, we are living country. I'd say anyone with fencing that serves more than a decorative purpose, more than 2 acres, several misused outbuildings, a baby pool with a playground slide in it, and the need for hay ... can call themselves country. So I've got the lifestyle going for me. I'm sort of Martha Stewart with an edge... and dirt.... and maybe less organized... smaller empire.... less "people".... okay, I'm nothing like Martha Stewart except for my medium length blonde hair.



They want to see eye catching photos and design that lure in a reader. My blog design is pretty run of the mill. I don't know how those fancy bloggers do it with frilly picture frames, fancy backgrounds, and custom heading banners. I'm a blogger not a web designer.

As for eye catching photos I try my best to punch up my writing with interesting well positioned accompaniments. Like, here's me right now concentrating really hard on my post.


I hope the main emphasis of the judging is on blog content. I might stand a chance if they are looking for creative souls who can convey their anecdotes and ideas with humor and a sense of entertainment.

Statistical Recap of the 2nd Grade Talent Show

45 students
33 acts
2.5 hours
5 hoola hoop acts
4 acts featuring the song "Dynomite"
50% of parents texting
10 technical glitches causing
8 start overs
6 joke acts
10 one minute routines set to 3 minute songs

It was still a joy to watch those little people get into their thing on stage.

My White Hen

This little white hen came to me when my friend, Caitlyn, picked her up off of the road after her box was thrown from a chicken truck.



Maybe the hen was thinking she had come into some bad luck as her box left the truck and she was flying through the air into the unknown oblivion. It must have been a strange feeling. But the daily life of factory farmed egg laying hens is where the real misfortune lies. I won't go into detail about the conditions; honestly what I imagine is probably not even as bad as it really is.

So Caitlyn asked if we would take her. I love a rescue. When we released her into our run she stumbled around like a drunken sailor. She must have never stretched her legs in her life. Her feet may have never before touched solid ground. I noticed that the tip of her beak was cut off. She was skittish and skinny on top of her wobbly legs.

My big fat content hens made sure she knew that she was not one of them - all crazy and untrustworthy as she must have seemed to them. "Girl, that bird is CRAZY." "Oh my! Maybe she hit her head." "And why's she so white?" "Do you thinks she's blind?" They chased her away from the best bits of kitchen scraps for a while. They can be so caddy.



After a few months she found her strength and her place among our hens. She can run like the wind when she needs to. And she lays one huge white egg every day. I know in the scheme of things her life has little meaning, but she is her own epoch novel of dispair, escape, mistrust, acceptance, and salvation. If only we had a rooster she could also find true love.

You're Messin with my Mind, Man

I have not blogged much lately because the thoughts that want to stream from my finger tips are not the happy upbeat sort that I want to convey to the world (Okay, "the world" is an exaggeration; I have 12 followers). We are starting week 5 of our kitchen remodel and so far we have seen about one week's worth of progress.

I am told this is normal. I get a lot of "that's contractors for you." And "It's going to take twice as long as you think and twice as much money." I'm just not sure what to do with comments like that.

I am trying my hardest to relinquish any expectations I had/have. I am trying not to let the hope for a returned call, or even better, an actual visual sighting of a contractor creep in to my mind. I am trying to concentrate on creating critters and paintings worthy of sale in a home that is cluttered, cramped, and ripped apart. Every day, three times a day, I search our makeshift kitchen for healthy meals for me and my family.

Does anyone have a happy kitchen remodel story? Does anyone have a dinner invitation? Are any of my friends Zen gurus? How about just a piece of cheese to go with my whine?

The Kitchen: Money and Meltdowns

kitchen before

Since we bought our home 10 years ago, we have wanted to remodel the kitchen. Five weeks ago we moved out of our kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom - 1/4 of the square footage of our home. We are camping in our own home with a sink on the porch, grill outside, washer and dryer in our dirt basement, and fridge and small appliances in the dining room.

Kitchen renovations are notorious for high stress and high dollars. So far we are managing quite well on both fronts. In addition to new cabinets, appliances, countertops, and so on, we have taken out our walls, floor, ceiling, and windows. It is a deep project but we don't have deep pockets.

as it is now

We have saved the most money by recycling cabinets from another kitchen. We really lucked out when the sister of a friend was tearing out her very large kitchen and was willing to give us the cabinets in exchange for a donation to Habitat for Humanity. She also gave us a nicer refrigerator than we ever would have bought. Score!

We also saved a bit by doing to demolition ourselves. This was no sacrifice on my part. I could not wait to take out my pent up frustrations on the crappy cabinets, rusty appliances, and ill built walls. We let the pros handle the floor which was a mishmash of concrete, stone, wood, tile, and linoleum.

in between

Dave took the time and effort to set us up with sink with hot and cold water which has been a life saver. Were I carrying dishes to the second floor bathroom, I would be bald by now. He also rigged up our washer and dryer. Since we do a load of laundry every day (or more likely seven over the weekend) this has been a hair saver as well.

Today the Mason comes to block in the old windows and open up two new windows and a French door. Next will be the radiant heat and the concrete floor. When the floor has cures the new walls will go up and we will begin to see the new space as it will be. GLORIOUS

I am sure the real freakout and meltdown stress will come. I am also certain we will spend more than we intended thanks to our champagne taste and crazy old house with issues. So far so good.

I'm Back

I have really missed writing in my blog. I was thrown into a blog abyss for two reasons. First, the blogger website was all messed up and I couldn't access my account.

Second, and the real reason, I have been a little off center and preoccupied. No one wants to read a birdbrained blog post with no humor, lots of whine, and maybe even a little hostility.

So here is a quick list of things I am excited about and hope to share with you in future posts:

Kitchen is completely demolished!! Isn't that great? You know what would be even better? If it got built back up again. (See what I mean about the undertone of hostility?) Last week the project sat idle. We are waiting for the plumber. Please take a moment to send out a little plumber prayer for me.


We have two new family members! Meet Fisto and ?. Evan wants name the little kitty Mady. Max wants her to be Sadie. I keep calling her Itty Bitty Kitty. I'll let you know which name sticks.

I am a felting fiend! I have 14 weeks until the Brandywine Arts Festival. I have a list of ideas, some wool, and some felting needles... let's see what I can do! I am looking for suggestions for simple little Christmas ornaments so let me know what you want to see.

Something Mis-Happened

Our brains and bodies usually work very well together. Our lives depend on it. We make countless decisions everyday. Usually we come out the other end of the day unscathed.

I've had three miscommunications between mind and body this week. The third one was enough of an event to pull me out of my blog hibernation and write.

The first two were while running. I was enjoying the sweet Spring smells as I ran on my favorite trail at Fair Hill when I came to one of the stream crossings. What I thought was some exposed pebbles in a shallow spot was actually floating flower buds. Splash! Up to my ankle. Not an injury, but an uncomfortable mistake none the less. The second, same trail different day, the tip of my toe caught a root and I went flying through the air. After a good jarring to my shoulders and neck I kept running out of spite for that root. I think it grew up just as I was passing and had a good giggle as I tried to get myself off the forest floor.

Today I had the final mishap in my hat trick. Dave and I are beginning our kitchen demo. We had a stuck upper cabinet. It seemed to be stuck to the one next to it. He unscrewed the adjacent cabinet and that was my cue to get up and help. I held one while he took out the final screw of the other.

We thought they would come out together. All I thought to do was support the cabinet from the bottom while they both came out. But they miraculously disengaged. Before I knew it the top of the heavy cabinet was coming down on my head. I ducked my head inside of it but then the middle shelf was pressing heavily on the side of my neck. I buckled under the weight into some bizarre position that I couldn't recreate if I had to. I have no idea where my hands, my strength, or my sense were. I was stuck and in pain.

I must have been shouting "ouch" or "help" or something because I hear Dave saying, "Are you okay!!??" Finally I manage to yell, "Get this thing off of me!!!" Dave had to put his heavy and unwieldy cabinet down before he could remove my bad choice in hats.

I have to admit I cried a little. I can't remember the last time I was stuck and scared.

Generally I think of myself as a capable, sure footed, athletic person. Maybe it's time to revisit that description.

On a Hill in the Holler

I realize our home needs a lot of work. Just ask Dave how many times I have picked up a real estate magazine in search of a better place. With intense grassisgreeneritis I would study each property and choose a handful of places that were definitely "better" than ours. Our house is old, it doesn't have a ton of character to make up for the age, the kitchen is atrocious, our property is 100% hill, some of our neighbors are sketchy, and what animal lover wouldn't want a little more property? We even went as far as to put our house on the market once.

But something has clicked; I have not looked, in earnest, at a real estate magazine in over a year. I feel dedicated to our plot. Maybe it's because I can finally see all of the visions that hung before my eyes when we first bought the property (10 years ago) becoming reality. Or maybe we have just invested too much time, energy, and money to walk away now. Or, I have finally fallen in love.

With my new love goggles I see the house's character, the kitchen's potential, the beauty and protection of the hill, all of the work that we have done here, and the neighbors? What neighbors?

When we bought this property it was just a house on a hill; figuratively and literally, there was nothing else - no fences, no out buildings, no landscaping, no paths, no patio, no pasture. Now when I pull into my driveway I see the home that we have created together.... and I cherish it.