Mindy's Blog

They say that Memorial Day signals the unofficial start of the summer season and I am looking forward to this summer being a great one.  There is rumor going about that the watermelon crop is good, the blueberry crop is great and the peach crop is awesome.  I, for one, am loading up on napkins!

Summer in East Texas is to be enjoyed to the fullest.  Most of the cooking should be done outside and by men over a blazing fire and the only thing you really have to worry about is having enough ice and mosquito spray.  It's time to put on your tacky old shorts and stained tee shirts and head to the lake and pretend to fish while admiring the beauty of the water, shore birds, and skating waterbugs.

I welcome the heat of summer because I am certain that this year won't be the oppressive hell of last year, but more the hay curing, sun bathing, tomato ripening friendly sun of years past.  We will treat ourselves to ice cream, New Orleans Ice, FroYo, and snow cones. Lunches will be tuna salad sandwiches and cold dill pickles and with nothing on television worth watching there will be time for lazily thumbing through magazines and even time for that new novel. 

It will be a summer full of long evening shadows, humid nights filled with the songs of katydids and crickets, and days of hazy blue, cloudless skies and beaming sunrays that make the day long and hot and insure a delicious nights sleep in a dark, cool room.

Summer, like life, is what you make it.  Enjoy.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

They've waited 12 long years for that legal piece of parchment announcing their obligations to society are so far are fulfilled and relief is huge that at least this hurdle has been cleared.  No more math tests, mean girl cliques, dress codes, or school lunches.  No more exact times, pre-planned years, required reading, and single file.

With the future finally here and freedom so close at hand, some will be busy getting prepared for college or work while others remain as children afraid to commit to a new way of life content to latch onto their parents and be nursed through life. 

It's the wild horses that have the largest portion of my respect.  They'll tear out of the field finding the gate has been left open, tails over their backs, eyes wide, nostrils flared, and ears pricked forward.  Each stride grabbing real estate in a rush of euphoric frenzy with eyes trained on the immediate and little regard for what is left behind.  It's a race to discover what the world has to offer over the next hill and to see how much ground can be covered without the trappings of a bridle.  Wild horses are the brave few who arrogantly believe they are capable of anything and refuse to conform to an easy life in the stable.  Wild horses will be the ones to take the most criticism and be continually underestimated and those who are crippled by a fear of failure will be a constant source of negativity toward them but the wild horse has reserve and resources, a strong heart and sharp mind, nerve and gall, resiliance and a tough leather hide. 

It's not easy to be a wild horse.  There's hunger, pain, frustration, and aloneness but the one thing that is omnipresent is a uncompromising spirit and stubborn sense of self.

My advice? To thine ownself be true.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

It was twlight and there was no breeze, the windchimes hung quietly with the faintest scent of drying hay wafting in from the fields beyond the highway.  No traffic this evening and no bawling cattle, in fact all I could hear was the lonely call of a single whipporwill and in the far distance the continuious drone of a gas well compressor.  Saturday night in East Texas.

She stood silent.  The moon, golden as a fresh, ripe peach slowly climbing in the eastern sky.  With time the golden glow starts to fade and the moon slowly returns to her traditional silver radiance as the night bugs begin to chime in and the sky becomes darker and the stars more visable.  I feel such a strong feeling of pride when I look at the moon.  As if I had anything to do with her existance.  The sun and the stars...as if...  

Suddenly, one star struck coyote no further away than the pond dam, turns loose a series of yaps and howls soon accompanied by the entire pack celebrating in song.  They sounded joyous. 

I was envious.

Oh well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Recently, during a perfectly lovely spring day whilst mucking out the garage, I came accross a box that contained several odd looking garden tools, a hose end sprayer, a small peanut butter jar filled with curtain tacks and a cookbook.  Ah, this was that box that The Man brought home from the auction some months back and wanted me to go through but instead it got filed in the corner with the pet taxi and my old bicycle.  I picked up the box and put away the tools (loving the little spade) put the other little goodies away and opened up the battered old cookbook to take a quick thumb through.    Gold.  Right here in my very own garage, I have found GOLD!

It was published back in the early eighties and is called Pots, Pans, & Pioneers III Councils of Louisiana Chapter #24 Telephone Pioneers of America.  Quite a title.  And, it's quite a book at nearly 800 pages and they're all filled with ingredients like Pet milk, butter, oleo,  shortening (if you don't have butter or oleo), canned creamed soups, white rice, bacon, and if it is a chicken dish you'll need a whole fryer, or a whole fryer cut up.  Not a boneless, skinless, chicken breast is mentioned in the entire book!  Wahoo!

The macaroni and cheese recipes are enough to keep me entertained for hours.  For most of the casseroles you'll need delicacies like ground beef, tater tots, rat cheese (!), and then you add things like fritoes, Cheez Whiz, or Ritz crackers.   I see nothing requiring low fat mayo or skim milk.

The desserts call for pineapple in heavy syrup (do they still have that?) red food coloring, King size 7-up, fig preserves, and cane syrup.   Whole eggs, Crisco, Baker's chocolate, vanilla and Eagle Brand Sweetened Condensed Milk...the food of the gods.  No splenda or 1/3 less fat cream cheese is mentioned anywhere.

Okay, I know your dying for a recipe so here's a goodie:  Page 404

Chicken Macaroni Casserole

1 large hen

1 stick oleo

3 medium onions

2 bell peppers

1 cup chopped celery

1 clove garlic, crushed

2 cups canned tomatoes

1 lb. packaage mararoni

1/4 pound grated cheese

Boil hen in enough water to make 2 quarts stock.  Saute onions, peppers, celery and garlic in oleo; add 1 quart stock and tomatoes.  Let simmer.  Bone chicken and cut into large pieces; mix with sauce and put in casserole.  Cook macaroni according to packaage directions, using chicken stock.  Drain well; add to mixture, mixing well.  Bake at 350 for 40 minutes.  Sprinkle with grated cheese and bake 20 minutes more.  Serves 8-10.

Myra Brooks, Capital Council, Baton Rouge, La.

I love the '80's.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Each morning and afternoon I brave the red bugs and wade out in the berry vines to have my fill of those deep purple fruits.  My legs look like they did when I was twelve with itiching bumps, scrapes and purple stains from scratching my ankles with berry juice on my fingers.  My teeth, tongue and lips are goulishly blue and I really don't feel my age or act it at all.  Dewberry season only comes once a year and seasons like this one-  perhaps one in ten years.

Cooper likes the berries almost as much as I do but Pollywog prefers to belly-up to the salad bar of leafy grasses and the other dogs are much too busy on the other side of the pond digging for gophers with boundless ferver.  I've only seen one snake and it was a gray rat snake which was not enough to deter my berry picking efforts but funny how seeing that thing makes you a bit jumpy afterwards.  Sadly the berries won't last much longer but peaches and plums and blueberries are on the way and it looks like it's going to be a good crop. 

I pick a small bowl of berries to take home for berry pie.  It's not nearly as good as Her's was but I remember the recipe and berry season just wouldn't be the same without it.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I was raised to say yes ma'am and yes sir and and every adult- without exception- was addressed as Mr. or Miss.  I was taught to smile at the preacher and shake his hand.  To ride in the back and not pull on the front seat.  I was taught to drive in the pasture on tractor trails on Sunday afternoons.  I was told not to complain, count my blessings, and to bait my own hook.

 I was raised to take the broom to my boots before kicking them off on the back porch.  To ride without a saddle and make a halter from a hay string.   That perfectly straight rows of peas and corn was something to be admired and to stay away from the cow once she had the calf.  To know that just because those Carter boys could swing all the way accross Tenaha Creek on that rope didn't mean I could do it too.

Where I come from it was time to eat once the cornbread came out of the oven.  Sandwiches were made of light bread,  we drank sweet milk, and all of the chicken had bone, skin and fat-unless, of course, it was in the dressing.   To only put one piece of meat on my plate and save the best piece for someone else, to never put the butter knife in the jelly and always thank the cook after a meal.

I still live in a world where all the little green lizzards are called Lester and Old Jenny still builds her nest in the water can or the old hat hanging on the back porch but today the internet provides me with endless things to read and it answers almost every question and often the answer is a correct one.  The fenders on my truck no longer rust out in two years.  I now get more than one channel on my television.  Hauling hay is done with a tractor instead of your entire family and neighbors.  Panty hose are out of style, and I have hot water on demand not to mention that my washer and dryer can handle 21 towels per load.  Anything I need can be shipped to my front door within two business days and I can talk to my sister in Keller, anytime of day and for as long as I please. 

I don't miss the past any more than I'd wish away the present day or scoff at the future.  Like a friend said to me last week, "this is why we were given memories". 

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I have been told that I have absolutely no sentimentality about things.  I could argue this to a point but I won't because frankly I honestly belive this statement is, for the most part, true.  I don't attatch myself a lot to things.  I was once told that this is because I have no children.  I don't think this has a thing to do with it but again, I'll not argue. 

I think it's a perception issue.  I perceive things as things.  People are people.  Nature is nature.  Never, have I complicated one with another.  I think often this makes me appear insensitive to others and I'm not proud of that but I'm also not apologizing to the point that I would try to change who I am- even if I could.

Here again, as with so many things in life, the real issue is change.  To see something that has been the same for so long suddenly completely changed causes some to fret.  Intellectually one might know the change is for the best, but emotionally it's a struggle.  Some embrace it, some critisize it, others are indifferent to it. 

I say it's change that's most responsible for our memories.

But then, what do I know?   

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Downtown Shelbyville February 2008

 I am one hard-hearted and hateful old wench when I find a loathesome bindweed sending it's tendrils around my Turks Cap or when I rip my hands trying to pull up ironweed which I am sure was sent straight from the pits of hell by the devil himself to turn happy-go-lucky gardening women into foul mouthed hussies by the end of a perfectly nice Saturday afternoon.  But honestly, I love admiring the weeds that spring up every single month of the year and live peacefully in the shelter of fence rows and around tree stumps, fields and wetlands.

Just yesterday I was entertained for some length of time by a simple bumble bee busily working on a bull thistle flower.  I was first enchanted by the bees intensity but then when I really started looking at the amazing flower of the thistle, I was a  bit fascinated by the complexitiy of the bloom. 

I must say some folks aren't so impressed with weeds.  Let's take that bull thistle for instance.   My mother in law would set out early after breakfast with her trusty grubbing hoe (not sure what makes it grubbing) and she'd reek havoc on the defenseless bull thistle stopping only for lunch and supper.  It was not enough to chop it down, one must mutilate the root- and the dirt surrounding the root and then speak ill over it's remains.

My grandmother had these same feelings for nut grass.  My grandfather for persimmon.  The Man for Chinese Tallow.  My brother, ryegrass.  My mother, vetch.

I supose we all have our own weeds to conquer.

Or...else...this says something very interesting about my family....

Oh well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I came inside only because the mosquitoes were not only feasting on me but packing "to go" bags for their pets.  Holding the door open, I kicked off my Crocs and frowned at my filthy toes and counted the dogs coming through the door- one, two, three, four....."Saltyyyyyyy!"....okay, five.

I stopped at the sink to fill the pups water bowl then I grabbed a glass of ice and headed for the tea pitcher.  The kitchen windows were open and I stood there and listened to the quiet fussing of the finches at the feeder and enjoyed the intoxicating smell of freshly cut grass in the evening air.

There was a time when such excellent weather would lull me into planning a trip up to the northeast, or perhaps Colorado or even just a quick trip to Kentucky for two weeks, my trailer filled with horse and hay, my truck packed with riding boots, jacket, and a new novel for between events.  I've looked in my rear view mirror for twenty years to see the nose of a silver trailer and outside the front windshield I'd find most of America.  I've been to both coasts, several times with my best mare as my only companion, in almost any weather, all seasons of the year,  but there was always something about the spring that gave me rambling fever.

I find it funny that I used to work so hard in order to be able to travel and now I work much harder in order to be able to spend all my time at home.

Nothings changed.  Just me.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

 

It's no big deal having to put the tractor into four wheel drive, I don't mind having to clean up 20 muddy paws after each and every outing, I enjoy wearing my brightly colored rubber boots instead of my Crocs or sneakers and mostly I am thrilled by the greenest countryside in recent memory.  Yes, I do love rain.

I was on a narrow laned road up in the more northern part of East Texas this week and it was the same road I had traveled in late August and had then been horrified by the ravages of what the drought had done to those lands further north.  I hadn't believed it could have been worse than Shelby County had tolerated but I was incredibly wrong and it was a depressing and sobering discovery at the time. 

This day however I was overcome by the neon bright pastures, beginnings of Queen Anne's Lace on the roadways, cows laying up aside their new calves and swishing flies instead of wandering in a constant search to fill their bellies.  Many trees weren't budding out but so many were.  A grove of juvenille gum trees that had been tormented and curled, scarlet red as the clay earth below them half a year ago now boasted fine green feathers on the tips of their branches.  It was enough to make you cheer.

Our small woodland pond went completely dry late last summer, to the point that we could drive through the center of it.  It is now brimming with water, lush cannas and wild elephant ear are flourishing on the banks and call me crazy (because I don't know how it's possible) but we (the dogs and I) saw a small fish turn in the water in an attempt to lunch on an unassuming skeeterhawk.

Like my Grandaddy always said, "I don't always understand it, but I believe it."  Of course, he was talking about The Bible.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Today is the perfect day to tie up loose ends. 

The wonderfully gloomy day is all the reason I need to finally stay inside and get those taxes finished.  I sat down at the desk and after a quick Facebook check and a trip to the kitchen to make a new pot of coffee, I went into the closet to get the final year end statements out of my Tyson Chicken Strips box.

Wow.  There is just too much crap in this closet.  I think I'll get a trash bag.  I'll get this tidied up then get out the tax papers. 

 I remember this purse...wasn't that whole Hillfiger thing back in the 80's?

A reindeer with two broke horns...really?  Like I needed to keep that?

My FFA jacket...that's a keeper.

Okay well that's got that taken care of.  Here's my Chicken box of papers.  I take them to the desk and quicklly cruise Pinterest and then went to refill my coffee cup.  I think I need a snack before I get down to work.  I sat down in the living room with my coffee, peanut butter toast, and dachund and picked up some of the new spring catalogs that came last week that I hadn't had time to look at.  Ah, spring shoes. That reminds me...I now have room in the big closet so I think I'll go put all of my winter boots and coats in there...this will give me more room for spring clothes!

Okay!  Boy, I am really getting things done today!  I should get that load of laundry in the dryer.  I go out onto the back porch- (my old washer developed a leak last week and The Man moved it out on the back porch so that we could get a new one in the wash room so I've just been washing clothes outside since the water can just leak on the concrete and into the flower bed until I actually have a bit of time to pick out a new one.)  I get the wet clothes out and I shelp them back inside and toss them into the dryer which suddenly screams loudly at me and promptly quits. 

Okay, fine.  With the washer and dryer now out of the wash room and giving my back porch that really authentic redneck look,  I decide that before I get a new fancy pair of laundry machines I really should get this wash room painted.  I go into the garage and find a gallon of Serengetti beige and hunt down a roller and brush.  Back to the laundry room I notice the walls need some spackle, a definate cleaning, a new light fixture and the coat rack has to come off of the wall.  How am I going to paint behind the freezer?

Actually, I think I'll just go finish up those taxes first.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Today was enough to last me the week.  The sun was out, the breeze gentle, and the lawnmower actually cranked!  The dogs and I went out after The Man finished mowing and we were joined by a flock of hunting robins.  They stalked and jabbed and flipped the grass clippings in persuit of squigglies and crawlies that were also out to enjoy the day and warm themselves in the sun.

I watched the robins as I joyously pulled henbit and chickweed and wild carrotweed from the flower bed all the while trying to forget how badly I needed to be inside working on my taxes. 

 I remember reading once that out of one hundred robin chicks, only 3 would make it to be a year old and from that three birds only 1 would survive to 5 years of age.  You don't tend to think of a robin being in such peril but in nature, everythings gotta eat.

This thought leads me to the overgrown vegetable garden where the multiplier onions are alive and green but a lot less in number than last spring.  I day dream a bit while I look up at the branches of the oaks, heavy with buds and about to burst.  Things are going to look a lot different in just another weeks time.

I pull a clump of grass and find a big fat grub.  I look over at the hungry robins and then back at the helpless grub who will no doubt be a vicious bloom eating beetle in only a few weeks.  I frown and put the clump back in place.

I guess if a robin has it that hard, it must be hell for a grubworm.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Ah, the memories!  For a farm kid in East Texas the anticipation of a trip to the Big City with your friends and fun folks like Doyle Carter or Jack Nichols was the thing that made for sleepless nights!  The Astrodome made us all gasp the first time we saw it from inside and I remember going to the Rodeo and seeing Kenny Rogers and Dolly Pardon who were mere specks from our cool seats way up in the yellow section.

 I don't think I was ever as cold in my entire life as I was one year horse judging at the Ft. Worth Stock Show in the Blue Barn which was actually colder than the 28 damp degrees outside.  I remember I was in my brand new Roper boots and that coat from Dad & Lads.  Yes, Dad & Lads...I didn't want a girl coat.  I wanted one of those really cool Walls down coats like all the horse people wore but they were too expensive so we settled on the fiberfill which looked just like down but didn't cost nearly as much.  

Then there is the food.  My money was spent mostly on black peppered beef jerky which I considered a culinary masterpiece.  Others loved the BBQ and Chili cookoff but I had enough of that at home.

Perhaps what I remember most- and took no notice of at the time -was the fact that all of us kids were turned loose onto the tarmac, in the middle of a major city, early in the morning and told to behave and meet back at a certain time that night.  The grown folks went one way and the kids another.  The only thing we had to fear was that awful stink of the livestock barn or losing our ticket to the rodeo.

Lots of the kids would get back on the bus late that night and talk about the rodeo, feris wheel, or huge tractors but what I remember most is the incredible eyes of a brown swiss cow.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

We should laugh loud and hard.  We should laugh until milk comes out of our noses, our stomach cramps or we pee our pants.  That's a good laugh.  We should watch our favorite movie over and over and over again until we know all of the lines by heart and we sing the theme songs under our breath all day at work and get confused looks by our coworkers.

What about those big days like our birthday, Christmas or summer vacation?  We shoud jump up and down and tell everyone what we really want to get and yes we deserve it because we have been exceptionally good and we will positively DIE if we don't get it.  And every special day there should be a cake.

We should look foward to getting mail.  Play tag and run. We should have imaginary friends who understand everything we say and do.  We should eat a lot more Corn Pops and Fruit Loops.  We should take naps after lunch and have someone carry us in the house and put us in bed when we fall asleep in the car. We should go to town just to get ice cream.  We should just keep playing rather than stop and argue about the rules. 

Acting like a kid has nothing to do with being childish.  It's a state of mind that says you love life, you love being in the present moment, you have wonderful things to look forward to and the future is such a long way away.  It's knowing there is always a happy ending and that good always wins over evil.

Sure, we all need to grow up, we just need to make sure we don't grow old.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

It was such a bright and cold morning and I wanted to hurry up my chores at the farm and get back to the house to get going on my spring cleaning.  Time to sweep the ceilings and get those curtains washed and rehung.  I have to sit down and finish some things on the computer and make a list for the upcoming week.  I was thinking of a hundred things and concentrating on nothing.  Until I saw the killdeer.

I was sweating from the heat of the chicken house but the icy wind was whipping through my hair and I pulled my hood from the back of my coat when I saw the handful of jolly killdeer scurrying around on the flat gravel pad.  I stood perfectly still and watched them puff up and fuss and strut and holler.  They could have been watching me and the dogs  but I'm not sure.  They seemed as self absorbed as I had been only moments earlier. 

I remembered an early spring day in Arkansas when my Dad took me out to show me these silly birds and how they would feign injury to guide predators away from their nests.  They would drag a wing, or both, even appear to flat out faint or pant and struggle as if completely exhausted.  I'm not sure how long we stood out there and watched them but I think it must have been a long time.   I think this is likely the first time I ever realized that all birds were not the same. Not all the birds looked alike.  They didn't all sound alike.  They didn't all act alike.  I think this is when I started to pay attention.  It was in a dry, fallowed cotton field that had nothing but acres and acres of sky and dirt.  And Killdeer.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

Whenever there is a moment, I love to look up.  Daylight hours provide the bluest of endless sky, the ominous rolling turmoil of storm clouds, a puffy white translucent ceiling that refuses to let the sun pass through, clouds forming the stuff of dreams and nightmares against a deep sea background, and the criss crossing contrails of the jetliners leaving a wake of dissapating white fluff.

The night sky requires the most patience.  You really need a wide open space with no trees that will allow you the most horizion viewing possible.  Surely, only a tiny glimpse through the bare oak branches is still a show worth seeing but the best viewing for me comes from the chicken farm where the entire southern sky is on display.  Then there is just so much to see.  Can you see it all?  Never.  Patience.  Look here but no, my eyes dart there.  Where was I?

So many.  So incredibly many stars.  To find the constellations of Gemini in February is a thrill to me.  Orion and the Great Dog are my old, old, friends introduced to me by my father when I was hardly old enough to speak.  Venus so bright, Uranus a bit greenish, and Jupiter will be closing in soon for a quick peek.  And then there's our moon.  Our constant.

I often wonder why anyone would claim boredom who is able to see the sky. 

I wonder how anyone could.  But then, I wonder about a lot of things.

Ah well, back to work.   ~Mindy 

I could walk the same route in the woods every day for many years and there would  be something new to see every single day.  On each and every trek I would find suprise and wonder without fail.  One simply cannot be surrounded by nature and not learn about the world, life, and living. 

I realized today just how much I've missed mud puddles.  And mud.  We've been blessed with a bit of rain as of late and it's enabled actual sustained mud puddles!  So many tiny tracks in the wet, soft, earth for me to ponder the owners of.  Lots of shallow water filled pools scattered through the land like the broken shards of a fine, silver mirror.  Cooper and I wade through the still, clear water while the little dogs opt to go around.   Eventually, the rains will slow and the puddle will dry and the grass will return to cover the sodden earth.  But then, this is nature.  This is what she does. 

At the end of the day- I think - life is best when you've found joy in mud puddles.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I must say, I am not one who has much trouble making decisions. 

I think during this past week I've decided that (no pun intended) regardless if the decision turns out to be good or bad, the joy of committing to a thing is worth the risk of being wrong. 

This is not to say that one should not seriously consider the consequences, to the contrary, it's the ability to intelligently weigh the consequences that makes the decision possible.  When it's a bad decision, you take responsiblity for it, you suck it up and learn what you can from it and move on.  On the other hand, there are few things more satisfying than taking a risk and having it turn out to be a blessing. 

 The losses must be tabulated- but only on paper.  

 Not in stone.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I have to say that life is just so much better when you are awakened in the morning by the faintest first light of day instead of an alarm clock and the thoughts in your mind are those that are so inspiring that you bounce out of a warm bed, into the chilly air with little envy for those still sleeping.

I quickly dressed in my ratty farm clothes and measured the coffee grounds, poured the water and flipped the switch.  I pulled on my rubber boots and big coat and stepped out into the frosty morning.  The old mare nickered as I poured the sweet grain into her bucket and pulled curly dock from her mane.  I put my face in close to her neck and breathe deep.  I do love the smell of horse.

The dogs show little interest in going any further than the barn on this dark and cold morning so we head back inside and I stop to pick up a few twigs on the way so that I can hopefully coax those remaining hot coals in the fireplace to start up again without chopping some rich pine.

I open the door and smell the hot coffee and hear the sound of the morning news coming from the television.  The man in the suit is talking about such things as consumer sentiment, insurgents in foreign lands, the latest election polls, and why you should never eat gluten.  I shove my gluten laden bread into the toaster and then lean on the countertop to look out the window at the finches in the feeder.   

I don't intentionally mean to be disconnected from what's going on in the world.

Oh, that's a lie.  Yes, I do.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy

I've got my new 2012 Farmers State Bank Day Planner, my new calendars, new files for the file cabinet, a fresh yellow stack of legal pads, steno pads, and two new sketch pads-one large, one regular (because you just never know) and a dozen new multicolored pens and pencils.  I have already made notes in the planner and circled dates on the calendar, all in pencil because I like to change my mind.  The new year is here and I'm ready for it.  On paper, anyway.

I've bit the bullet and had my after Christmas weigh in and I survied the humiliation and filled the kitchen with my favorite things like fresh fruit, chicken, and lots of Greek yogurt.  It's time for endless glasses of lemon water, hot green tea and getting the dust off the treadmill.  If I have a new year tradition, this is it.  You'd really think I'd be a lot better at it by now.

I opened the big closet and brought out my favorite white china bowl and filled it with oranges and placed them along side colored glass bottles and glass vases in pretty ocean blues.  My favorite chair by the fire now sports a heavy cotton slipcover and navy blue throw.  Beside it is my new stack of books with topics ranging from healthy cooking to bloody murder to the wonders of the sub atomic world.  This is where I hope to be on those dark and rain filled days and I hope there are plenty of them before spring.

I think I'm pretty well set for the first few months of the new year and the worst of what winter will have to offer us.  I'm looking forward to cold and cozy nights with dreams of a beautiful spring.  I have no idea what the year will bring and I don't plan on trying to figure it out too much because the not knowing is the really fun part of living.

At least that's the way I like to think of it.

Ah well, back to work.  ~Mindy