Log Jam

If you enjoy writing, have you ever felt like you have a mental  log jam?   Words, ideas, half  baked developed thoughts   jammed in there so tight, nothing wants to flow….

That is a picture of my brain. 😉

So, since the words refuse to flow,  I  thought I would share with you some photos I’ve taken since January.

I am one of those people that love the four seasons, including winter.  Not trying to diss anyone, but give me in a pair of Carharts , warm pair of boots, a good stocking hat,  my 4 wheel drive (if I have to go somewhere)  then bring it on.

I am not alone.

Have you ever read the account of John Muir  going outside as a thunderstorm rolled in on the west coast?  How he climbed a big pine tree so he could experience nature in all of her fury?

Well, you won’t catch me climbing any pine trees, but I have been known to go outside more than once in a blizzard just for the experience…

_____________________________________

We had a beautiful ice storm late February:

Ice on the fence

 

Ice on a corner post

Then, before you know it, it  was March.

Sunrise in the orchard

Then April:

Our first hive in the distance

I uploaded this picture from my phone a week ago. Google photo took the liberty to send me that edited version.

Our version of cherry blossoms  is when our apple trees are in bloom… They usually last at least a couple of weeks.

Apple blossoms

You know Spring has arrived when the morels start popping.

Last week , found my first batch:

Finally, we have 4 laying hens.   When they are stressed or not getting enough  sunlight, they  stop laying…well you can see by this last picture we have turned the corner on winter….

 

Another (4) egg day! 🙂

I always think of Robert Fulghum’s story Not Even Chickens, when I go out to look for eggs.

I am a rich man.

I have 4 chickens. 🙂

Substance

Read a thoughtful column last night from my favorite author Andree Seu Peterson titled Let’s Do Lunch.

I have to make a confession, Some of last nights column went right over my head.  Same kind of feeling I get when I try to read a poem.

But I did come away with a nugget and the realization I am not the only one who can only tolerate so much shallowness.

I can banter with the best of them, and love a good tease, BUT give me deep meaningful interaction anytime over shallowness with a guarded person.

(That is one of the biggest draws for me in the blogging…meaningful interaction)

An hour later I applied what I’d just read.

I got a random text from someone I don’t know all that well.    She had been watching  something on a TV series  and one of the characters  reminded her of me….

She wrote...”So and so reminds me of you…”

In the past, I probably would have just replied with something like...”cool…or neat…or thanks”… but because I am not watching that series,  I had no idea what she meant…

I wanted to know more.

I wrote her back…

I said, “Cool”..but then asked , “In what way did I remind her of so and so..?”

Her reply  left me  encouraged.

So much so, I made a copy of her words and hung them up on the wall overlooking my desk.  I have this habit of making copies of encouraging words and pinning them on the bulletin board overlooking my desk.

DM

 

Knowing when to get angry

“You have to learn what’s worth getting angry about.”  Lester said to me  in his gentle way.

I was 16 years old, had just unleashed a string of profanities.

That conversation took place over 40 years ago and  I can STILL remember it to this day.

I remember thinking, “You know, he’s right.  Nobody pays too much attention to me now when I get mad.  That can’t be good.”

Lester  reminded me of Ben Franklin….

Retired farmer,

Bib overhauls…

Here’s an early crew photo…Lester is in the middle and I’m to his right:

Work crew from back in the day.  We had just finished pouring a basement wall.

And yes, that was a can of Old Mill in my hand.

________________________________________

These days, it does take a lot more to light the fire.

The fuse got lit on Tuesday.

I’m temporarily working with another construction company…

My work load had slowed up, and this crew needed some extra help.

Win win.

Tuesday night  on the way home, my cell phone rang,  it was the boss…He’d just got off the phone with the customer of the job I’ve been at the past month.    It was implied we were taking too long to finish the project and we needed to start putting in 10 hour days.

You’ll have to take my word on this one, but I have been busting my chops the past 5 weeks  with a crew of 2 (just myself and a helper.)

The week previous I  picked up some  little clues the boss thought we must surely be about done, he had sent Dave to round-up the screw guns, and extension chords .  I could see we had at least another 2 to 3 weeks, assuming there were no more change orders.  To compound my frustration, the boss has not personally set foot on the job site for two weeks,…. he personally hates detail work   (which is what we have left to finish)…

Fast forward to this phone call….

After I hung up, Jack, who was riding in the truck with me and  who had heard my side of the conversation asked what that was all about?

I repeated what I’d been told.   He reacted with “That is bull@#$%”   (which is German for “That is not fair!”)

We both felt unappreciated and misjudged.

I could feel the anger start to build.  Rather than just stuff it, I wrote a punch list (things yet to do) when I got home.

The next morning I was @ the shop 30 minutes early, with the intention of talking to the boss one on one.

When  I got there,  the crew was already starting to trickle in. I asked to talk  with the boss in the office.   He said he didn’t  think it was necessary so I gave him the punch list in front of the assembled.    I told him  someone else could finish those items because I had my hands full,  framing walls and installing glass board.

He told me I was  quote “over-responding” and made light of my frustration.

(This is in front of others mind you.)

I told someone later, the mind games, the  passive – aggressive behavior, in the midst of conflict no longer works on me quite like they once did.

Anger in and of itself, is not always a bad thing…..it all depends on what you do with it.

Anger reminds me of rocket fuel.

If you’re not careful, it can ignite, blow up and you’ll have a bigger problem.

Anger can be a wonderful  motivator for change and conflict resolution.

____________________________

Update 2/23/17.  I posted this for a specific group of people.  I realize most of you didn’t know me when I was younger, but I entered adulthood as a hard core people pleaser, with a very low self image. One of the issues that dogged me back then, was an inability to stand up for myself in a healthy way.  People would take advantage of me, even older family members. I would be manipulated, talked down to, on and on. Internally, I would seethe, but NEVER, EVER< give voice to any of it….

And then, through the efforts of a friend, I addressed the low self esteem head on, and ever so gradually, my life began to change…so by the time this event took place I wrote about, my response was a 180 degree flip from the old DM….and the boss I wrote about, didn’t know what to do with me.  He was used to the  old compliant DM…so I wrote this to give hope to the people pleaser, the person with a low self esteem.  You do not have to live there.  There are greener pastures.  I am not talking about turning into a mean spirited abusive person.  I am talking about wholeness in your inner person…it is radical stuff..and it is good.

 

Fired Up

 

This morning  I read an article titled 5 ways total strangers can make your trip better

It reminded me of one of my all time favorite conversations with a complete stranger….

It happened like this….

We were  visiting our eldest daughter in Wisconsin.  Lunch time rolled around and  daughter suggested we needed to visit her new favorite place to eat……

The deli @ her hometown grocery store.  (I love that girl!)

So we piled in the van and headed into town.

Everything was just as she promised.

Broasted chicken, fish, roast beast,  fresh watermelon, strawberries, salads, dark roast coffee, etc. etc.

The only thing they didn’t have was adequate seating.  As we stood there weighing our options I worked up the nerve to ask a  businessman sitting at a table by himself..“Would  he mind if we joined him?”

“Not at all!”

So we grabbed another chair and the (5) of plopped down next to him.

Community building started right away…

Who we were, what brought us to town, yada, yada…

And how about him?….turned out he worked as an engineer for one of the bigger businesses there in town… more small talk…he loved his job…  yada yada… and then somehow we stumbled across his current passion…

Brewing artisan beer in his garage.

One question led to another…

It was fascinating.

We were introduced to  the microbial  world of beer fermentation (and none of our party even drinks beer).

You could feel the energy around the table. There was a genuine sense of connectedness and letting down of our guards.

Then before we knew it, it was time to go our separate ways.

Pause.

That sense of connection is the main reason I blog. It has created opportunities to get to know people I otherwise would have never met…

and at a level that is virtually impossible to get to any other way. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the type of topics we  interact over. Last count, Mrs DM and I have met seven of you in person, some of you more than once.

Without exception, you have all been exactly as I would have expected..except better.  Each time, it has felt like I was meeting a long-lost relative.

So tell me, If I was sitting @ the deli table with you right now, and  asked, What is something you enjoy that gets you fired up what would it be?

I really do want to know! DM

 

 

Mushrooms Aren’t Just For Casseroles Anymore…

When DM sent out a call for guest writers my interest was piqued, but my world is a bit dark right now and he specifically requested that no negativity be a part of any guest post. Even with some suggestions I just felt that I had nothing to say.

Then, in true DM fashion, he posted a story about one of his current interests, and along with that topic, began interweaving aspects of his past and present. Have you noticed how he can do that almost seamlessly at times? He’s also great at asking questions about his readers lives. And he really wants to know the answers. So because he asked about jobs, and because his question made me remember, I’ve put together a post.

______________________________

I was a teenager in the 1970’s. I think one of my biggest ambitions at the time was to own my own car. I had access -thanks Dad- to a very old, very ugly Ford pickup that I was allowed to use and drive to school. I parked that truck not in the school’s parking lot, but down the block so as not to be associated as the driver of that vehicle. Learning gratitude as an adult has made me appreciate the fact that I was given the option to use that truck, ugly or not. At 16 I could not easily understand just how lucky I was: Me, a rather nerdy girl just trying to fit in, was no longer a walker, or worse, a bus rider. I drove to high school, slightly embarrassed, but I drove.

However, I set out to purchase a car that was my own. That choice meant working at something more lucrative than babysitting. I had a steady, but very small, regular income from those jobs. I was even afforded a bonus from one of my regular babysitting assignments- chicken pox at the end of my Freshman year! Babysitting took a backseat quickly after that. Two very different jobs helped me to reach my goal.

Through a deepening friendship with my 9th grade Home Economics teacher, I not only watched her kids on occasion, but also began cleaning her house. Mrs. H was amazing. I never really said anything about my home life to her, but she knew. Somehow she figured out enough to realize that I needed a stable adult and someone who was simply available. Her husband was a football coach at the local high school. She had three daughters. They had horses, and dogs. I honestly can’t remember how often I would go to her home to clean but my motivation wasn’t all focused on money. They were the family I didn’t have. I loved it there. Somehow vacuuming and dusting and picking up after 3 kids and scrubbing showers and toilets didn’t seem so bad.

Through this job, I was able to find more clients. A few things stand out about some of those jobs/clients.

-My very first encounter with a refrigerator vegetable bin so neglected that the old vegetables had turned to a gelatinous, stinky mass in the bottom of the bin.

-A stove with oven and burners so caked with crud that no matter how much I scrubbed, it never came clean.

-Shower scum. Thick shower scum and grout mildew. I would sweat trying to clean that stuff. It would have made sense to actually clean naked and then take a shower when I was done.

-Cream of mushroom soup, utilized as a stand alone bowl of soup to be eaten for lunch. I knew cream of mushroom soup. My mom used it in tuna noodle casserole. I never knew that anyone would serve it for lunch. In a bowl. By itself. To me. It took me a long, long time to eat anything with mushrooms after that.

-Ironing. So much ironing. Except for underwear everything this family wore ended up in the ironing basket. I ironed upstairs in a small room. This elicited more sweat.

-Cat hair. Dog hair Cleaning stairs with cat and dog hair wedged into corners and crevices.

-Fear. Somehow I accepted a job cleaning for two guys. As my first meeting with them approached and I drove to their home my radar started alerting. Somehow I managed to ‘inadvertently’ get lost and just never show up for that meeting. I never scheduled to go back.

I also spent two summers working as a cashier and customer service rep. Many things stand out still about this job and this post is running long as it is so–

Was it easier than cleaning houses? Of course. Did I feel grown-up? You bet. Did I earn my way into this job? Nope, and I am not proud of the fact that my position came about as a direct result of privilege. My dad was a manager in the company. What do I remember most about this job? 1. Learning to drink coffee at break time with lots of sugar and creamer because that’s what the other adults did. 2. Sexist remarks. I was 17. It was the late 1970’s. I worked with men who had very high opinions of themselves and their skills. Enough said.

In the end, I got my car. I was the proud owner of a 1969 Buick Skylark 2-door Coupe.

buick-skylark-1969-4

Worker Bees…a meditation

honey-bee-flowers

Google Image

The life expectancy of a worker honeybee is 6 weeks.

Just 6 weeks!

Do you know what eventually kills her?

She dies because  her wings wear out, and she is unable to get back to her hive.

This past Thursday night  was my first bee keeping class.  I enrolled in a  6 week, 18 hour course titled First Lessons In Bee Keeping.  Class didn’t start until 6 PM.  I didn’t get home until after 9:30, which is way past my normal bedtime, so you know I’m motivated. 🙂

By the end of these six weeks, I will know whether or not I want to take the plunge and become a bee keeper.

Here are a few more bits of bee trivia….

In a healthy hive there can be, between 60,000 to 80,000 worker bees at the peak of the season.

A healthy queen honeybee may live 2 to 3 years, although due to the chemicals on plants these days, you’ll be lucky if she makes it a year.

There are 3 different types of bees in a hive:

A queen,   the worker bees and the  drones.

In a good year, you can expect to harvest 40 to 80 pounds of honey off of one hive.  Last year our instructor Bill told us, was not a good year.  He averaged  40 pounds of honey per hive. ( He has 300 hives.)  A gallon of honey weighs about 12 pounds.  Bill recommended a minimum of 2 hives for starters…for reasons I am not going to get into here…but even if it was a bad year, that would potentially = 80 pounds of honey or 6 and 1/2 gallons of local honey.

Side note- this past year we have made the transition from white sugar to honey.   Not going to go off on a bunny trail right now, but the more I learn about  the white pure cane sugar many of us grew up on (and  corn fructose)  the more I am motivated to replace those  sweeteners poisons with honey.

 

” Anyone can plop a bee hive out in the back forty over the summer.  You are not a bee keeper until your bees have survived through the winter.”                Bill the bee keeper

Pause

And on a related note…

I did not get home until 2:45 AM this morning.  Went in to work at 11 PM last night to clean, then set up a banquet hall for a Ducks Unlimited meeting.

I’ve always said, if I had to, and work was slow, I would go to Hardees and flip burgers.     Well, I finally got my wish 🙂

Construction work is  slow.   I have a friend who works part time for a commercial cleaning company.  His boss told him, if I ever needed work, to give him a call.

So last night I got up close and personal with all of the toilets, sinks, and urinals in a 400 seat conference center, as well as an introduction to dry mopping, and reading a table placement diagram.

Last night the story of the Prince and the Pauper flittered through my brain…You remember that story right? A prince and a pauper trade places..and each gets to experience life in a whole new way….

Here I am a self-employed business owner, used to hiring and firing, bidding work, collecting, dealing with customers, and all that goes into being self-employed…

and last night…

I was a worker bee.

(Notice I didn’t say “just” a worker bee.)

There is nothing  degrading about cleaning bathrooms for a living.  Talk about job security.

Woke up this morning with a song in my heart.

____________________

Tell me about some of the types of jobs you’ve had over the years..(even if it was 50 years ago)….DM

 

Fallow

img_20170119_105341186

Fallow field just outside my window

Fallow: Dormant, Inactive.

Fallow field: Intentionally giving a field a rest, a break from crop production, in order to replenish soil moisture and nutrition.

The same can apply to writing…. whether I am writing  a blog post or a book…

          “for he thought I was idle…. perhaps I am,  and perhaps I am not.  He forgot that a plowman’s mind wants to lie fallow a little, and can’t give a crop every year….”                                                                                                                              John Plowman

______________________________________________