I have been struggling lately to keep my attention on one subject longer than 2.5 seconds.  Ever had a day like that?  Well, I’ve had a few months.  Ok, years.

Did you just see that butterfly?

I’m sorry….what was I saying?

Yep, that about sums it up.

I can barely form a cohesive,  coherent thought so as to complete my daily tasks, much less put words down on my blog.  I know, you probably haven’t missed me.  But I have missed writing.

I could blame it on the fact that school has started, and the lazy days of summer are over.  I could say it’s because we have so many family activities that I honestly can’t remember the last time we all just SAT DOWN together in the same room.  I could blame it on the numerous animals in my life that contribute to the insanity.

In reality, it’s probably all those things, plus my inborn need to overcommit.  I can’t say no.  Ever.  No, I mean….EVER.  It’s bad.

In fact, lately, I have a hard time keeping my hand down in a room when somebody asks for volunteers to help.  I can feel it creeping up, towards the free air.  I have to slap it down with my other hand or sit on it to keep my volunteerism under control.  Why do I hear people talking about things that need to be done and have the urge to scream, “I’LL DO IT!!!!” when I can’t even finish my own laundry?

I’ve decided it can all be summed up in one word:  avoidance.

I wish I could say I believe it is about my altruistic self.  While I like to think I am altruistic, I feel the sinking sensation that my brain hopes that if I keep moving on to new things, the old things will just disappear.  Not so much.  In fact, quite the opposite.

And therefore, I am making a pledge today to STOP VOLUNTEERING FOR EVERYTHING.  I am going to stop raising my hand and adding more things to my list.  I am determined.  I have made a resolution:  No more projects.

Wait….did I just hear someone say they need help with the school play? Wouldn’t that be a blast?  I could just help a little….

Ok, so I’m incurable.  I just can’t do it.  Kudos to those of you who can.  You are amazing prioritizers.  Is “prioritizers” a word?  I didn’t think so.  But it just fit.

So here I go.  I’m off to get some stuff done.

Yea, not really….I’m sitting here, sipping a Pumpkin Spice Latte, doing a little “people listening.”  It’s one of my favorite things to do when I have about a million other things I should be doing.  And while we’re on the topic, I have to ask…have you ever heard a voice come out of someone and thought, “that is totally not the right voice for her?”  That just happened in my “people listening” session, and I’m trying not to be freaked out.  Weird.  Ok, I know.  Random, again.

On a side note, in keeping with my new “randomness” theme, my next few posts are going to stray from the chickens a bit.  I’m sad to say the chickens are not always the center of my life.  Please don’t cry.  I promise to throw them in here and there, because I seriously do continue to learn something from them daily.

I’m also doing away with the “Chapter ….” blog title thing I started.  It seemed clever at the time, but it’s WEARING ME OUT.  And when things wear me out, I stop them (a little trick I’ve learn with age).

Hang with me.  It makes me smile when I hear people say they like my blog.  Writing is hard for me.  I wish it was easy, but I’m a perfectionist.  I want it to be “just right.”  And therefore, it is a painstaking process.  For those of you who have given me kind words, I can’t express how much I appreciate you.  Thank you.

And now….stay tuned for my upcoming posts, including “The Dog Who Ate Everything.”  It promises to be a blockbuster…..

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

“Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Words to live by.  

I remember hearing the story when I was little, and then hearing it again later in life when I better understood the meaning.  It’s hard to get old.  The “beautiful” circle of life is not so beautiful when it applies to our bodies. In fact, it can be just plain ugly.

Because I have little girls, I find myself always dealing with the drama surrounding body image.  It’s pathetic, but girls start worrying about being overweight and looking old at such a young age.  My youngest started worrying about her weight at age 7.  Oh my goodness.

The pressure at school between girlfriends can just be brutal.  My daughter told me about a game where the girls sit down so they can see how big their thighs look when they expand under the pressure of the seat.  Of course, then they compare to see whose leg is the biggest.  Really?!?

We talk at home about the importance of becoming strong and healthy, but I worry constantly about peer pressure, teasing, and of course, our wonderful media’s image of the “perfect woman.”  It’s so easy to distort a girl’s sense of reality,  and therefore, create in her mind a sense of something that cannot be achieved.  While perfect people are not real, eating disorders are.  And they’re scary…sometimes a point of no return.

But beyond that, what woman wants to be defined by their physical appearance?  I am not satisfied to be remembered only by how I look in a little black dress.  I want more.  I want people to listen to me, to laugh with me, to love me for the things inside that can’t be seen.  

It’s hard for little ones to grasp this concept, but they do learn from you….how you react to being photographed (which is horrifying to many women), how often you talk about being “fat” or unattractive, or how frequently you criticize other women or celebrities for not looking perfect.  It all sinks into those sweet little minds.

I think it’s interesting that the people I have loved and respected most in my life have ceased to be defined in my mind as a physical image.  Instead, when I talk to them or remember them, my image is an emotion….a happy, warm feeling that isn’t bound by any physical quality.  There’s no fat or skinny, tall or short, color, race or age.  Just beauty.  In fact, sometimes I struggle to get a mental image for loved ones who have passed away.  But I never struggle to feel my love for them.

Please keep an eye on the young ladies in your life.  They are so easy to influence.  Trust me, I know from experience.  There’s nothing wrong with looking great, but don’t let them see you make it the focus of your world.  It is an uphill battle.  Instead, help them feel strong, healthy, confident, loved….Real.

And to all you already “real” people out there…..cheers to you.  You are awesome. The world would be a better place if everyone was more like you.  

So keep it real, people.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

My good friend came up with a brilliant game for a birthday party.  Instead of bringing your same old go-to gift for a friend’s birthday, she asked us to bring the five things we couldn’t live without for the birthday girl.  I loved the idea immediately.  I learned about some really cool stuff I want to try from the other ladies.

But afterwards, the exercise has kept me thinking.  Every time I pick up a product, I think, “Would this be on my list?”  So I decided to blog it out and actually put my thoughts into

words.  The list I’ve compiled does exclude the obvious, God and family.  Those are above all else, and I could handle losing all of the items on the list, as long as I have them.  So here goes.  These are in no order of priority, and trust me, the list is a bit random….just like my thoughts.

1.  Books:  It’s hard to imagine a life without books.  From such a young age, I was transported to different times, exotic lands…all in the pages of a book.  I am in awe (I’m doing a little curtsy for them right now) of those who can write with such talent that we see the world through their eyes.  Love books.  Love to read.  Not always so excited when the

movie gets made.  Some really good material has been ruined on the big screen.  There are a few exceptions, but for the most part, reading a book and letting your imagination take over is the way to do it.

2.  Gardening:  I just can’t explain the difference between fresh garden veggies vs veggies you buy in a store, if you’ve never tasted both.  It’s like comparing the ant hill in my backyard to Mt. Everest….or the mud puddle in the driveway to the ocean.  I would wade through dirt, weeds, bugs and snakes (and I hate all of the aforementioned) to grow my own vegetables

and enjoy them all year long.  If you’ve never tried gardening, get on it right now.  You can even do it in a pot on your back porch, and you won’t be sorry.

3.  Coffee:  Let me put it this way….I am not, in any way, a morning person.  It’s bad to talk to me before 10 a.m.  In fact, it’s just plain ugly.  Thank goodness for coffee.  It makes me tolerable.  Please, for your own safety, don’t visit me in the morning without coffee.

4.  Running:  My volleyball coach recommended that team members run track in the spring to stay fit and develop endurance.  I think I honestly hated it the first season.  It was hard and at times, downright painful.  My coach told me that running would be a sport I could carry with me for the rest of my life.  It didn’t mean as much to me then as it does now, many years later.  In fact, at the time all I could think was, “Please don’t vomit…please don’t vomit.”  Running, in my opinion, is 20 percent physical and 80 percent mental.  It takes incredible mental stamina stick to it.  But the benefits are really, really worth it….confidence, health, fitness, meditation.  I have learned an incredible number of life lessons through running.  And I don’t

plan to stop until age forces me to.

5.  Pets:  I can’t imagine how cranky I would be without my animals.  It’s amazing to me that people survive one single day without a pet.  They love you when nobody else does, snuggle with you when you are sick or sad (no, I don’t snuggle with the chickens…but I do love them), and make you smile when you just don’t feel like it.  My pets have been with me through some tough times, and no matter how bad my day seemed, there was always a loving friend waiting for me at the end.

6.  Bath time at bedtime:  I am an extremely active person.  I mean, I actually don’t sit down during the day, unless I’m forced to for a meeting, and then it’s like I have ants in my pants.  I remember saying to my mom when I was little, “Mom, can’t you seriously just sit down for two minutes and watch this with me?”  Well…no, apparently she couldn’t.  And neither can I.    So when I get to the end of the day, my mind is buzzing, and my body is sore.  A nice, hot bath with Epson salt (yes, I know….sounds like something an old person would say) will do wonders for a night of rest.  I soak every night.  The salts actually take the soreness away, and I feel like a new woman the next morning.

7.  Really, really, really good shoes:  All you cute little cuties out there in your cute shoes, listen up.  Once in a while, take a break from those cute high heels and wear some good,

supportive shoes.  You don’t have to do it every day, but do it occasionally.  I have been fighting a double heel spur from my years in the corporate world, trying to look tall and cute.  It’s been six months, and after about twelve VERY PAINFUL cortizone shots in the most vulnerable part of the foot, I still have pain every single day.  Save yourselves!!!  I call it “body Karma.”  The bad things you do to your body in your twenties will come back to you times one thousand in your forties.  So if you drink heavily, chain smoke, wear no sunscreen, bask in the tanning beds, ignore exercise, eat terribly and wear super-duper high heels (ok, ok, the heels aren’t as bad as the other stuff), enjoy your thirties ’cause it’s all downhill from there.

8. Lipstick:  If I’m ever stranded on a deserted island, I need only one survival tool….lipstick.  It’s not a particularly useful tool.  No, I don’t know any survival tricks with lipstick.  I just like the fact that I don’t look like a corpse when I wear it.   If you ever see me without a tube of lipstick, take me to the ER, because something is terribly wrong.

9.  Laughter:  When I was younger, it was difficult for me to laugh at myself.  As I reflect, I realize I was pretty uptight….total perfectionist.  But with age comes wisdom.  And with wisdom comes learning that you can and should laugh at yourself.  Life is funny.  Enjoy it.  People love being around you way more when you’re not trying to act perfect all the time.  We all have flaws.  Embrace those flaws.  Learn from them, and laugh at them.  They are the very things that make you unique and very often, they will eventually define you.  Life is about making mistakes.  It’s how you pick up and move on from those mistakes that’s important.

10.  Good friends:  Last but certainly not least, I love to surround myself with good friends.    I have learned what friends are not, and that has helped me understand the handful of people who truly fit into this category.  Friends don’t make you feel bad about yourself, they don’t talk about you behind your back, they don’t say mean things to you, and they don’t judge you.  Ever. They have a positive effect on your life and make you want to be a better person.  They are your greatest cheerleaders, and they never try to compete with you.  They love you 50 pounds overweight, in sweat pants and when you’ve just made a huge mistake.  I had lunch with one of those special people today, and I gave her the analogy of a strainer when you are draining pasta.  When times are good, everyone wants to be your friend.  But when things are tough, it’s like pouring spaghetti from the pot to the strainer.  Everything falls through except the good stuff.  And that’s the stuff you want to hang onto for dear life.

And that, my friends, is my list.  I apologize.  It’s long, but it’s been a blast to write.  Every English teacher I’ve ever had is screaming, “For the love of God, STOP WRITING!”  So I’ll stop now.  But I would love, love, love to hear your lists, too.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

Today I ran to the grocery store.  A lady I know through a friend of a friend of a friend’s friend was in front of me at the meat counter.  As the butcher handed her a package of meat, she turned to leave, and looked me square in the eye.  I smiled and said hello. She raised her eyes above my head (which isn’t difficult because I’m so short) and walked away.  And thus, my blog today is about mean people.  Not sure why it is so heavy on my mind right now, but I am feeling it all the way to the bone.

Ok, so that lady probably isn’t really mean, (although I want to believe she clubs baby seals as a hobby), but as long as I live, I will never understand looking another human being in the eye, seeing them smile, and then acting as if they don’t exist.

There are some excusable reasons, I’ll give you that.  You’ve had a really traumatic loss and just can’t deal with people at the moment.  You’re bleeding to death and need to get to the emergency room.  Those are a couple that come to mind.  Typically, those are both pretty readable to the person attempting to greet you.  If I don’t know you well, and you look sad, stressed out, or are bleeding profusely, I’ll let you off the hook.  If I do know you well, I’ll probably hug you or take you to the emergency room whether you like it or not.  Sorry, that’s just who I am.

My next example of mean person behavior is the yelling, screaming, bird-flipping driver.  There are days when I’m running late (ok, everyday), and I drive like a bat out of you-know-where.  I get more than a little irritated with drivers in front of me that just can’t break the 15-mph mark.  But is it really necessary to completely lose it?  And if you can completely lose it in this situation, what are you like to live with?  Yikes.  I’m guessing not pleasant.

Obviously, there are justified anger situations on the road.  However, if I accidently do something to tick you off, would you do me a favor and count to ten?  I prefer not to explain to my children just yet what the middle finger in the air means.

And now to reveal my number one pet peeve: the all-around mean-to-the-core person. I’ve only known a couple in my lifetime, but they are out there.  Of course, there are the obvious ones, the Charles Manson types.  They live it and know it.  Those are not nice people.  Stay away from them.

Sometimes, though, they come in disguise.  They’ll kick your dog when you’re not looking, or pinch your kid.  They’ll be nice to your face, but then do everything they can behind your back to destroy your happiness.  Don’t be sucked in.  If you suspect, watch them out of the corner of your eye.  They’ll eventually show themselves.  Then just walk away.  Trust me, you’ll be better in the long run.  Never forget the old cliche, “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”  Truer words were never spoken.

Now I’m starting to sound “preachy.”  I used to have a surgeon mentor (I know, strange for an accountant, but I never do things the normal way.)  He was the complete opposite of me…kind of cranky, very in-your-face, but always cut right to the chase.  I would call him periodically before I had to deliver a difficult message in my previous job.  When more than five words would come out of my mouth, he’d say, “That’s it.  Stop.  Now you just sound ‘preachy.’  Nobody listens to that.”

And therefore, this ends my sermon on meanness.  To summarize, it’s not good.  I have a plaque in my office at home, which holds the best advice I can give myself every single day.  Having grown up in a very small town and then moving to a big town, I know this to be oh-so-true.  It says, “Be nice, the world is a small town.”  Because I promise, Karma will find you and bite you right in the booty.  Ouch.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

I gotta talk about the bees.  Apparently bees are the latest rage, and my husband is fascinated by them.  Awesome. Can you hear the excitement in my voice?  I didn’t think so.  I actually think he might be allergic to them, too, but he’d never let a small thing like that get in his way.

When we began to get our chicken population stabilized, we discussed whether our next project should be bees.  Since I have a panic attack when any flying, stinging insect gets within 50 feet of me, I was a little on the negative side.  What if the bees attack us?  What if we create some mutant strain of killer bee and destroy the world?  It may sound extreme, but trust me, if it can happen to anyone, it would happen to me.  My husband affectionately calls me “an accident looking for a place to happen.”

We decided it might be a good idea to reach out to our local beekeeping experts (yes, there are local beekeeping experts).  We signed up for an informational meeting to learn all the ins and outs of bees.  We both did our share of research and reading up to the meeting so we could ask intelligent questions.  Turns out that wasn’t necessary.

We showed up bright and early (ok, 8 a.m. on a Saturday is bright and early for me) at a very large auditorium for the session.   There were hordes of people.  The place was packed to the max.  We walked in with a guy who told me his bee saga.  Turns out he’d lost multiple hives.  I was afraid to ask him where they went or why they kept leaving him, but after talking to him for a while, I can honestly see why a bee might want to get away.  In fact, I wanted to get away.

The “bee class” turned out to be a four-hour session of the most irritating people you could possibly pull together (me included, of course).  Remember in college when all you wanted to do was get out of class, but there was always that one person?  Just as you prepare to stand up and gather your books to leave, that one person had to make a point or ask the same question that had already been asked or, worse yet, a philosophical question that could cause the professor to pontificate for hours.  Love it.  Makes me want to rip my hair out and scream.

Now imagine an auditorium of about 250 of those people, plus my husband and I.  Oh, and Sasquatch.  I spotted him right away.  He was sitting on the far left side of the auditorium but kept having to get up and stalk across the room for the donut table.  That creature must’ve eaten 50 donuts.  I’m fairly certain he wasn’t there for the bees.

The four hours were spent listening to the same questions and answers over and over and over and over…..you get the picture.  And the poor guy who keeps losing bees honestly should join a bee grief support group.  His questions were more and more emotional as the day went on.  I think maybe he should step away from the bees.

My favorite question was about the type of bees.  Apparently, Italian bees are very nice.  I guess all that pizza and pasta makes them kind.  So those are the bees you want…..very docile.  One lady asks, “So how do you tell the difference between the Italian bees and the French bees?”  It took every ounce of strength I had not to raise my hand and respond, “Well, the Italian bees all have gorgeous dark hair and love spaghetti, while the French bees have these teeny, tiny little berets.”

It was at that point my husband decided we should leave the bee class before I lost control of myself.  My sarcastic comments can only be suppressed for so long, you know, and then I explode.  It’s just too much.

We did get some good information that day so I can’t say it was a waste.  I had no idea bees were so complex.  As compared to chickens, they are like little Einsteins.  The whole hive concept is fascinating and amazing.

But the jury is still out on whether we can actually tackle them.  If we ever go there, I can promise you I’ll be sleeping with one eye open and a can of Raid under my pillow…..just in case things start to go apocalyptic……

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS