Beggers are sometimes still choosers....

 I chose a lot of the life I have today. But here I am, begging again. (Big Sigh) Did I worry when I got a puppy that I knew would turn into a dog the size of a smallish horse? Mmmm.... a little. And I don't know if this a true or not.... But I felt at the time that the Lord told me that we should get Duke. And he is good for my mental health. I was suicidal at the time that we got him. And you know, that poor pup probably shouldn't have had that responsibility thrust on him, to give me the will to live. But hopefully he never knew. My prayer is that all he knows is that I love on him regularly, give him a treat here and there, and that I sometimes try to boss him around. What he knows is that he can only be bossed around by choice, it's not an accident. He's big and he knows he is big and gets to listen or not listen at will. He's a goofy ole lug. He eats us out of house and home. He eats more than a 30 pound bag of food in a month. He's also waiting on his booster shots. He got his first round of vaccines in May, with a follow up appointment being made for right around the time of my surgery. So I ended up rescheduling. Or did I? I don't actually know the answer to that. I either reschedued and forgot or said I would call back to schedule, and then forgot. If you want to contribute to the way-too-fricking-big-puppy fund, you can order dog food on Amazon. You can also use the cashapp handle listed below to contribute to his vet fund. 

So what happened anyway? Well, summer happened for one thing. When my income on top of my little pittance for disability is dependent on school being in session, summer break is a detriment. So there's that. And the fact that six family birthdays happen in July. Thankfully, I mostly hand make stuff, but even just making sure I have supplies adds up. And let's face it: tariffs. I notice that a lot of the items that I buy at "the Walmarts" has gone up, about $1 per item. And I think to myself.... "oh it's just a dollar..." but those dollars add up and when theres 50 items on your order that went up by a dollar or more, you're spending noticeably more on groceries. If you're not working class, or poverty level income, it may not affect you. You might be able to get away with your snarky little comments about your president's tariffs not being a bad thing, but if you live a life on the edge like I do, the current president's tariffs just put you (me) over the tipping point. Where I was borderline making ends meet.... now I'm not. 

I got last months evergy bill paid so they won't shut us off. But now there's this months bill due, and I'm out of paycheck. Yeah, I spent the bulk of my check "catching up" things I got behind on last month. So I'm out of money to pay for the things that are due this month wihich means that we are facing another month of robbing Peter to pay Paul. And the truth is, we're looking at two more months really because I only worked 2 1/2 hours in the month of August at the "extra" job. So that check will be no more than $40. When I get paid for working in September, on the 15th of October, that is when I anticipate seeing some real change. That is when I can finally (hopefully) make a dent in the debt. But I'm telling you, this is uncomfortable. And I don't know how I used to live here all that time. With all this discomfort. For one thing, I feel like a failure. I am trying to contribute. I'm trying to do the extras needed to make my life more manageable. But I am not succeeding. I feel like so much of a failure for that. Right now we're on the Average payment Plan with evergy. But it's cehaper this month, next month and in November to pay the flat rate. There's a payoff amount to get out of this. But looking at my bill, I think I owe evergy less that $60 on the flat rate plan verses the average payment plan which is $276 right now. I just gotta figure out how to get back on that plan and how I'm going to hustle up the money for that pay off part. That's all. That surely ain't too hard. Right? Except my heart rate is way, way up just from typing that. If you want to help this account in some way, here's some information: evergy.com login: clhorn; 68Carrielynn! or call them at: 800-383-1183; Account:5332467245. I don't believe there's any way you can defraud my account having this information. So I'm just putting it out there for anyone and everyone. What are you gonna do, log in to my evergy account and pay them some money? I'm okay with that. 

Finally, I have two insurance payments coming due that I do not currently have the money to cover. I don't know how to make them accessible. But I'm planning to pay them on my cashapp card (just as soon as I get some money on it). If you want to help with that, here's my cashapp: $carriehippiechick. 

Other ways to contribut include: buying cards from my card company: Hippie Chick Creations at the Hippie Chick Farm. That is the facebook page name. Or ordering tyedie, which also has it's own facebook page: Tiedye For. There are several Tiedye For pages and groups, so look for the one with a profile pic of a heart pattern on a t-shirt that is a golden/orangey colore with a fuchsia outline. I can make you about anything.... okay, I'm not as versatile as some of my friends, but if you don't see exactly what you're looking for on my page, hit me up and I can let you know if it's in my realm of possibilities. Someone recently asked me if I can do a pot leaf, and I said no. It's a lot of turns and twists and I'm just not confident that I can do that. (Maybe someday, right?). Now is the time to order for Christmas, while I can still get outside in the sunshine and there's some warmth to the afternoons yet. 

So... in summary, I know I am ultimately responsible for my debt. Do I believe that there are factors outside of my control that have been and will continue to press in on me and make it more and more difficult? Yes, I do believe this. But God promised to take care of me no matter what. so there's that. And sometimes when God does that, he does it through people. So I'm just putting it all out there. And most of all, pray. Please pray for these things: Healthy humans on the Hippie Chick Farm; Healthy animals on the farm; homes for all these darn kittens; funds to spay all our famale cats; funds for tending to medical needs for animals and for their food needs too. Pray that God would help me to find creative ways to fill the gaps and make the money we need to get through the next few months. I believe God partners prayers with actions. But I might need some direction on what actions to take. So pray those ideas and opportunities might fall into my lap. Pray for mental fortitude. 

I guess that's all for now. So much going on on the Hippie Chick Farm. I'll try to be more faithful to post. But time keeps on ticking and I really better get rolling! Thanks for remembering us before God. It's important. 

My puppy Duke (and yes, he's still a pup, about 6 months old in this picture)

find more cards on facebook

A recently made card. 

Being a Pot Stirrer

 Well, I used to always stir the pot. Angrily. Vocally. With vigor. Then I went through a tempering. And in the midst of the tempering, also a battering, which is actually a longer, separate story, but when you're beat down by a narcissist and end up questioning everything in life and walk gingerly as to not stir the pot, it affects the rest of things. But I backed up. Way, way up. I believed that all I was, was someone who stirred the pot. Who opposed and came out swinging. I didn't believe it was that I was passionate about social reform or personal safety. Emotionally and otherwise. 

Last night I stirred the pot. And about half way through, I thought, what is the real reason for this? I don't want to harm or berate, I don't want to be arrogant. I want to open communication about things and if I disagree with someone, I want to present a different side to things. But halfway through my tirade I realized, I only had half an argument. Because really, if we thought long and hard about the situation, we all wanted the same thing. 

This started with a story of a youth, middle school age, that took a swing at a teacher. Shame on that child. But given the option to press charges, the teacher said, "of course I want to press charges, we need to hold this person accountable and start that paper trail now." 

Okay, that is where my hackles went up. What paper trail? The school to prison pipeline? Come on. This kid, yes kid, couldn't be more than 13ish. Still a middle schooler. What kind of paper trail will help him reform? 

Here is where I start to lose some steam. I don't think paper trails do any good, and I strongly believe that they do harm. But the argument that this kid needs to be presented with consequences to his actions and that boundaries have to happen here are valid and I agree with that argument. What I am not equipped to enlighten anyone about, is what some solutions really ARE. I mean, the key to changed to behavior, is relationship. How do you force a positive relationship onto a child who has already been so turned against authority that they would just take a swing at the teacher? Youth programs? Diversion programs? How do we get there? Do we have to have that initial paper trail? 

So two-thirds through my shit-stirring, I am trying to back up. Because while I disagree that putting a kid on paper at that age is ever going to help them get out the mess they are already living, I also agree that no change will happen if this child isn't held accountable in some way, shape, or form. So in one way or another, we are all on the same side. 

It's not okay with swing at a teacher, and this was actually a substitute teacher. So there's that too. Substitutes don't know all the ins and outs of the daily routines, so they need a little grace. Substitutes don't know all the ins and out of the daily routines, which throws students off, and students maybe need a little grace also. 

What this conversation did was.... open up a lengthy car-ride discussion about kids who "randomly" swing at the authority in their life, and stir up my own defensiveness about being an at-risk kid who raised at-risk kids. I have fuel for many a rant now. But the thing is, I want my words to count today. I don't really want to just be a shit-pot-stirrer extraordinaire. Even if I do have a lot of practice at it. 

God help me to be a voice for the underdog. That a gong-ringer with nothing real to say. 

Monday Morning Coffee

 Thursday morning coffee time with my friend has just been switched to Monday morning coffee. Which is all well and good. At least we have a time to have coffee and pray together. Today we ran out of "pray" time. We agree that God heard us in our laughter, our sorrow and even our belly-aching. And we asked God to bless our words and hearts. But I know it's bigger than that. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I lifted her children and children's children up to God, and I know that when I ask, "please pray for/about this...." that she does. She'll remember me throughout the week to our God and He will honor that. I will remember her and her family at random times this week. Some scheduled times, but more prayer happens in those random moments than any other time. 

One thing I divulged this morning is that I am an Apathetic Annie lately. I just really don't care.  Everything seems too big and too hard and too overwhelming. So I'll just sit in my chair and either play mind numbing games on my phone or sleep through true crime shows on the TV. I want a garden, but I don't want it badly enough to get up out of my chair and plant it. I want a cleaner kitchen.... it got really out of whack, dirty and disorganized and behind on dishes during a cold snap where we had no water for a spell. Do I want it badly enough to do the work? No. In all honesty, there's some legitimate mental health struggles tangled up with this. And some serious overwhelm. But there is also the desire not to do anything. and the struggle is real. 

I had the epiphany this morning that I am sadly lacking in gratitude. Maybe if I renew an attitude of gratitude, Annie will go away. So the first item of gratitude is a real, true, boots on the ground, friend that I can have morning coffee with once a week and pour out my apathetic soul to, and she will pour out her heart to me and we will only share these confessions with God. She has a spouse, I could see her ocasionally sharing with her spouse. I'm told that's what a spousal relationship is like. I was married once. But I wouldn't base any amount of assumptions about marriage on my example. It was sick. and weak. and well, 22+ years after the d-i-v-o-r-c-e, I am still so much happier being single. That ship has sank. Maybe for some people it just sailed.... sailed away into the sunset. But no, my ship flat out sank.

But I digress.... 

Gratitude. I'm grateful my husband left. There I said it. I wasn't. I bawled, broke down, wallowed.... fumbled through some dark, dark days. But hindsight. I never would have left. And that was some toxic living. 

I'm grateful for my children. All of them. Even the one I'm estranged from. I'm grateful for the one I am no longer estranged from. Grateful for the ones I bore. Grateful for the one who has always held that special place in my heart. Grateful for the one who makes me communicate with her. Grateful for my readhead who is so much like me. These are my people. and I love them and I thank God for them. 

I'm grateful for my little farm. For baby chicks and grown chicks and chicken eggs and duck eggs, and more. 

I'm grateful I have a car to drive and that our family will soon be a two car household again. Holding my breath because, after today, we might actually be a three car household. One car per driver. Wouldn't that be something! 

I'm grateful for hope. And for all the abundance of hope that Springtime brings. 

I'm grateful that I can change my mindset by focusing on the good and giving thanks and developing gratitude. 

Endless Possibilities

 The future might be full of endless possibilities, but I just don't seem to know where to focus my efforts. With the decline in education funding, I really believe the world of education is going to look different in the not-so-distant future. I am not applauding this, I am heartbroken about what seems to happening and the whole dismantling of the Department of Education. What kind of future are we bringing to less fortunate families? Children have no say into their family's economic status and what status they are born into. So this is difficult to watch and stomach for me. But here are few things that keep pressing into my mind... 

I am a teacher. It's not a job, it is who I am. It's the "job" that's not a job. My dad said he got up everyday and did what he loved to do and was fortunate to get paid for it. That is what teaching is to me. Not a job. And I shared here earlier in the month about having the opportunity to help my sister teacher her children this year, and she asked me to teach Science. I have loved every minute of it. But I'm no longer in the public education classroom and I am not going to be teaching my niece and nephew next year as they are taking a different path with their schooling next year. And I have been substitute teaching to supplement my measly disability income. I also really enjoy this. But every time I step into a public school classroom I get nervous, like can't sleep the night before nervous. And there is the simple fact that "they're not my kids.... " Maybe John Q. Public doesn't understand that statement but every teacher everywhere does. Teaching is SO MUCH about relationship! And you can't build relationships in a day. To be fair, I am starting to build some recognition in some schools and some kids are like... "Ms. Horn, Ms. Horn..." and hugs. So there's a little glimmer of relationship being built there. 

So next year... what could/should it look like? 

• Some sort of private school/home school for children I don't know yet? What would that shape up like? My sister lives 50ish minutes from me and I drive there one day a week for in-person learning. Our schedule is this: M,F are Zoom meeting days; T, Th are email assignment days, and W is in-person teaching day. And it's worked. It would be much more cooler (just go with it, it's a vibe, not a grammar thing) if we met more than once a week, but this method has worked for us this year. Soooo.... would I form something similar to this with other people's children? What what would cost/payment look like? 
• I could tutor from my home all year. All the kids, everywhere. Lol. Via Zoom or in person, or at a library or rent a space. I don't know. 
• I could get a job. I can make as much as my disability check in a month and still keep my benefits. That would make life a lot less stressful for sure. 
• I could substitute 2-3 times a week and then I'd build those relationships too. 
• I could get the continuing education I need and get back to teaching.... wait, no, I can't. The price on my mental health and my physical body is too high. Teaching my calling but puclice school is sure to be the death of me.

I feel like there are so many "homeschool" type of options that are so far unexplored that will be more and more of an option as our public schools continue to be undermined, dismantled, and under-funded. But the kids that I feel like need me the most, are the ones who won't be able to afford me. It's never-ending cycle. Money makes the world go 'round. Maybe some "crazy (wealthy?) liberals" will believe this is something worth investing and help me fund this venture and I can open the school of my dreams. Wouldn't that be cool? And let me clarify, by "crazy liberals" I actually just mean like minded others who believe that children come first and that all children need a quality education, not just those who can afford it. Or maybe the government will accidentally allow some sort of loophole funding that will allow me to get paid for what I am capable of doing. There's a need. Trust me. And I'm good. But I burnt out and once there's no fuel left, the fire dies. I don't want to burn at both ends again until I burn out. I just want to pursue my passion, and I think there's possibilities, but I don't really have the funnel to narrow down the crazy, huge schemes of ideas and theories rolling around my brain and shape those possibilities into a real something. 

There is something there. And a power greater than me is going to have to show it to me. So I'll pray and trust and continue to dream. 

Poultry Auction Day

 Hustle. Bustle. Hurry. Wait. Shuffle. Arrange. Busy, busy, busy. Poultry auction day is always swarming with anticipation and energy. Poultry auction is always the last Friday of the month, with the exception of March and April. March and April auction are full of sellers, lots of livestock, the pulse of Spring on the farm, and full of buyers. The time is right to add chicks, and doeling and buck goats, and calves, and piglets, and bunnies and.... well, so much more. This is going to be a seller's market (keep those fingers crossed), and there will be a throng of buyers from all over the state and even some surrounding states. 

Yesterday afternoon we counted and sorted and discussed. Thirty-six birds total. We're hoping for an average of $10/bird. With commission and vertinary fees (a new thing), we hope to clear around $300. Which will go to repay our farm for feed and animal and other farm needs and also add to our flocks. We really want to add some silkie hens. It would seem right to wait until a later date, July-November-ish, so it might be more of a buyers market. But the truth is, the best of the best will be at auction today. Every seller knows that this month and next month are a big deal. And if they are like us, they saved their best quality babies for this month or next. So this is also prime time to buy. 

But I got off-topic. Yesterday we counted and separated. We figured out that we need 5 pens. After choring last evening, I took the time to find the cages I thought would work for us. Knowing that some cages will hold up to 14 birds, while one cage will only need to hold 2 birds. And to figure out the jigsaw puzzle that is our vehicle and making everything fit. Since we don't own a truck, we are loading everything into our Pontiac Grand Prix. Towels cover the back seat as we shove and prod and re-arrange and trade cages when we realize the cages first chosen will not fit. Finally, everything is in order. All birds are in the car, the cages we'll need when we get there are finagled into the trunk. Water containers are packed, and zip ties (the farmer's friend), and a wire snips. And we're off.... ! 

We arrived shortly after 9:30 am. They began check in a 7 a.m.. We are number 79. There are 78 consignors ahead of us. And consigner number 78 had a PACKED trailer. I bet they brought close to 1000 birds of every different kind.... ducks, call ducks, laying hens galore, some roosters, and more. We kept having to slide down the line and give them a little more room! So the number of consignors (I was so confused about the spelling, either one seems to work) ahead of us doesn't always mean that much, there could be a LOT of items/animals/birds ahead of us. And so it seems that this is true this month. We were "lucky" to get there in time to be under the rooftop and not out in the direct sun. 

After we got bird separated, waters distributed, and checked in with the auctioneer, we wander the aisles to see all that there is to see. There's guineas, and rabbits, and silkies, and crested polish birds, and laying hens, roos, and pheasants, and quail, and geese and peafowl. 

We are fortunate to live a mere 20 miles from the sale. So after check-in, we go back home for a moment to eat, rest, pack a chair or two, a few drinks, check for sunscreen, and make sure we have appropriate clothing and some cash in hand. 

Friday auctions start at 4p.m., but today the auction starts at 1 p.m. My hope is that it will be over by 7 or so. In a few minutes we will go before we go, and then head back to the auction, reminding each other most of the way there that we are NOT going to spend money today. Neither of us fully committed to that.

The anticiptation is real. The struggle will be real soon enough. I think we have some really pretty, really high quality poultry today, and I can't wait to see what they bring.

My Cats

Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in a never ending Groundhog's Day. Of the writing variety. I write and I feel like it's authentic and fresh and it's my life. My daily life. Every day stuff. Then I go back and reread my words and realize that this is just a repeat of last week's blog.... and the week before, and a few days before that. I write about chickens, and goats, and cats and dogs, and my puppy, and my ducks and my Silkies. I write about bantam chickens and "regular" sized chickens. I write about my hot button issues: the poor, the system that works against the poor, WWJD really and my personal spiritual awakening in regard to the my beliefs and where they fall in the whole left/right political agenda, as well as a few hot button issues in regard to kids, trauma and education. Apparently these issues run in a loop in my mind and get spit out in my blog in various ways over and over again. Hmmmm.... 

Know what I don't talk about a lot? My cats. Or I don't think I do. Tonight they are surprisingly giving me a break. There is not one cat jockeying for position on my lap at this time. Surprising. Really, they are usually pushing each other off my lap and out of their way. My baby, Eddie (his name is really Ed Sheeran, but I usually call him Eddie or Ed and sometimes Edward), is usually curled up in a ball on my body somewhere. And lately, the elusive Violet, who mostly hides out in my room or upstairs if we have company, has been sitting with me lately also. She usually announces herself as she jumps up onto the chair with a big "Reee-ow." She rolls her r's. I don't know where she learned that, but she does it. She starts out either on the back of the chair, on the head rest, or on the chair arm, and eventually slides over onto my lap or my chest or my neck. Depending on what is still available. But the time Violet is comfy, Domino has probably made his presence known and calls to me.... "Mom, Mommmmm, Mom!" I usually reply, "Dom... " "Dominooooo." "Dom!" Last night I even had a visit from big Pluto. He is technically my daughter's cat. But the thing is, I feed the cats, so aren't they all mine? Seriously. They love the one who feeds them. They trust me. They talk to me. They follow me. But to some extent, both of my Punky's cats are a little bit skittish toward me. But last night, Pluto sat on the back of my head rest on my chair. As I leaned the chair back to recline, we almost went all the way over, because Pluto is a BIG boy. I'm fairly certain he has some Maine Coon in him. Domino, he calls me "Mom!" and Eddie just like to say "Yeah.... " a lot. "Eddie, what you doing?" "yeah..." and Violet has that high pitched, delicate, "Ree-ow". Pluto, the big boy, has a very small, high-pitched cry. Angel's meow is somewhat high pitched too. Angel doesn't talk much. But when she makes herself known to you, you are supposed to love her. And tell her how pretty she is. 

I love the cats and even the vying for position and snuggling. As winter has given way to spring and now feeling a bit like summer tonight, I don't know how I will feel about the extra weight and heat on me. But for now, I will just soak it up. I love my cats. And they love me. 

Eddie

Domino (and the two little dogs: Maddie and Alice)

Pluto and Angel

Violet

This is today's slice of life. You can read other slices of life by clicking on the big slice and scrolling to the comments and following the links.

Random moments

Life is full of random moments. Sometimes I ponder the moments and wonder.... What would everyone else (in bloggersville) think of these moments? Would they have random ideas and hop down bunny trails like I do? 

"around the water cooler...."

These little guys cracked me up so much here. There has to be a better caption for it than just "around the water cooler." But it sure does look like they ae catching up on all the latest work-place gossip around the water cooler! I just had to snap a photo because my first thought was, "what should this moment be captioned?" In order to be captioned, I have to first capture it. So here it is. What do you see when you look at this photo? Does it make you think there's some secret story being told?

February 28, the day that Duke came home with us.

March 26, it's about 4 weeks later, and he has grown so much! 

So my little Dukey-boy, really he's just Duke, has been with us for almost four weeks. He is a sweet pup, and he's learned a lot. He was about the size of the baby goats when we got them. We got them two days after we got Duke, and they were all about the same size. One of the kids, Lillie, got pretty sick from being weaned too young. The other one, Marlie, took a bottle from us, and so even though she's younger than Lillie (I often call her Lilz), she did not suffer any malnutrition. In fact, she's a chunk. And you'd never know she's a week younger than Lillie. So anyway, the babies are all growing and Duke is growing the most rapidly. He's got the most progress to make I guess. He is needing some correcting and our zappy collar doesn't really zap very well with all his THICK fur. But he feels the vibrate button and doesn't like it. So that is working to some extent. I figured out how to turn it up a little tonight too. 

A sneak peak, or a preview...

and then there is one... 

Not even last night, but the night before already, Monday night, there was this first pipped/zipped egg. I was SO excited.... but alas, you never know about those things found in nature. That little guy has not emerged yet, and there's a pretty good chance he will not survive if he hasn't broken free yet. But then this morning, there was one. 

Minutes later, here this little guy is,
emerging from his shell.

This photo shows three and if you
look at the bottom left corner,
you see one egg that is "zipped,"
of pipped, but all around the shell.

I love, love, love hatch day. This batch of silkies could go to auction as soon as this weekend. Hatch day is like Christmas, you have some idea what's coming, but there's always some element of surprise and excitement. 

These are my three hens. And I don't know if it's just Springtime and mating season and everyone is just crazy or what, but they thought they didn't have to head into the pen for night and would just sleep in the water dishes. When I was putting the goats away and giving them a little hay for overnight, this is where these ladies were. I don't even own a drake. So I know its not something from actual mating activity. But it made me laugh. And you know they had some choice quacks for me when I told them in no uncertain terms that they would "go home." Apollo, the brown one with the white on the back of her neck, is especially vocal and sassy. Well, they all three have their moments, but Apollo has plenty of sass! Last fall we sold almost all our ducks. I can't remember if it we sold 15 of 18 or 18 of 21. But we only kept the three hens. The other brown one, I know she's a khaki campbell. Okay, I think she's a khaki campbell. Apollo, I used to be sure she was a Rouen, and her markings were consistent with that at first. But look at her now. So I don't know anymore about her. But Apollo is my OG girl. She was one of two ducks that we got during the Covid shutdown. And she's currently five years old. Which isn't necessarily old, but it's long past her prime for laying. So it's no surprise that I wasn't getting eggs from her over winter. Then Ivory broke her foot and was in the barn for much of the winter. And she quit laying. So our only layer was the duck named Goose. And when you start a tradition called "French Toast Sunday" and one of your kiddos is allergic to chicken egg yolk, you really need more than one egg layer to keep up the supply! This is probably all more random information that what y'all need, but this is how my brain works, so lucky you. 

I love that we started French Toast Sunday. We usually have bacon and french toast. And sometimes we have eggs along side of that all. My girl with the yolk sensitivity also just doesn't care for the yolk (probably because as a child she would throw up if she ate them). So when she asks me to fry her an egg, she is really requesting egg whites. And I usually do two of the duck eggs fried together into one round fried egg shape. So if we have french toast and eggs, that is a minimum of 8 duck eggs being used, and one layer isn't going to give me 8 eggs in 7 days. 

But we recently switched feed, and with that, egg production increased and currently all 3 girls are giving us an egg a day! That is sort of amazing to me. And we have plenty of duck eggs now! Which makes me happy.

I guess it's time to get this published. Because even though Duke looks like he's half grown, he's still pretty much of a puppy. And he needs to go to bed. He is currently bedding down in a dog crate in the chicken pen. I'm looking forward to the day when he will be mature enough to roam the premises at night. It's fun to watch him growing and changing every day. This afternoon when we were walking around he was discovering smells that were new to him and it was fun to watch him take it all in. I don't know what he smelled exactly, but the little dogs were barking like there was some sort of critter out there. And you never know out in the country. Which also makes me think I should hurry up and get out there. I have this theory (and we have cameras so I know my theory is not all that correct) that the wild things (skunks and opposums and raccoons) will come out more the later it is. So I'm off to get the pup and walk him aroud a little so maybe he'll dooky before bedtime. Get it? Dukey goes dooky. har har har.... 

That's my very random slice of life today.

click on the slice to read everyone's slice of life!

Reading Through the New Testament

 Yesterday, oops, no, Saturday, I posted about being an ally. Yesterday I just did not post. The first day since I started that I just missed a day. Anyway, I posted about how my views have changed the more I get to know Christ. And I thought to myself: "What do I really know though?" "What in the world have I learned about this God I claim to know?" And the answer has been slowly coming. Last year some time.... summer time maybe?... I decided to take a proactive approach to my life and the emotional roller coaster that living with long-standing depression takes me on. And I started a little group on facebook that is reading through the New Testament. We are now finishing 2 Thessalonians. So we are clipping right along! 

Our little group just reads the chapter posted each day and responds. So there's not much structure. Especially considering that we don't all read what is posted on the day posted. I have a tendency to lag and catch up, lag and catch up. But it does something for me. This reading of the word of God. 

There are no rules. My mom is one those people who thinks you are not really reading God's word if you're not reading out the King James Version. It's a little bit exasperating. I know that the real, true God inspires me when I read the bible. It's not fake. 

I decided to take on this journey because for December 2023, I chose to participate in a group reading through the book of Luke. One chapter every day, respond to the reading in the comments. And we would finish the book on the 24th, just in time for Christmas. This reading took me through a dark depression and helped me to walk through it. 

Every day was not profound. Some days I read for the point of saying that I read it. No deep or profound thruths were imparted to me. I just muddled through. But all that muddling still added up to something. And I felt a strength returning to my soul. And I know I needed it.

The same as I need this now. Every day is not necessarily deep and profound, although I am awe struck at just how often I do find something deep and profound in what we are reading. Every day I don't see or feel my life changing. But I know it is. I don't always feel like a light and a friend. But I know that when my group-mates post what they read, they inspire me, encourage me, and challenge me. 

I am so grateful for this little venture we are on. Each of us on our own journey with God, and yet, each of us contributing to the walk of our pathmates. All of us seeking. All of us open to hear what spiritual truths might be nestled in those words. 

I am a NIV girl. I like the New International Version of the bible. It speaks to me. Much more profoundly than the KJV. You can give me your arguments for why you are right, and I might smile and nod, but I'm probably going to read out of the NIV today. and tomorrow. and the tomorrow after that. 

But I know God will speak to me. The same as He speaks to you when you read the King James Version. 

Today I am grateful for this small group. This little thing in my life. It helps to ground me. And it invigorates my faith. Thank you Lord for this little inspiration. Thank you Lord for caring for me.

Click on the Slice to read all of today's Slice of Life stories.

Being an Ally

 I am an ally. I support my LGBTQ+ family and friends. I have decided to love them unconditionally. Do I totally understand them? No. Do I completely understand how this translates into a biblical view of Jesus and being a Jesus Lover (I no longer want to be called a "Christian," these Americanized Christians make me want to cry, or puke....)? No, I don't have a complete understanding. I have been in a 12 step program for over 37 years. One thing they talk about is a "God of your understanding," which was difficult for me, so I was told to just believe in a God I did not understand. That worked for me. 

Here's a few thoughts.... 

"Be careful who you hate, it might be someone you love." I don't know whose quote this is, but it is profound. My mom once said to me, in her own rigid "christian" views, that someone we know had changed her beliefs once she realized her child was gay. She said it drive home that it was a bad thing. But in my life, it was a good thing. I look at my children and I cannot subscribe to a belief system that tells me to judge them with harefulness, To disown them if they don't "change their lifestyle" or let them know they are headed straight to hell. I don't think fear or threats win people to my point of view. 

When my child first talked to me about their "different-ness," I was not understanding. There was a long learning time there. Years. But as time wore on and I worked through my own thoughts, one thing that kept coming back to me was this.... My child has gone through the scenarios. It's not like they woke up one day and said I think I'll shake things up a bit today so my family will be uncomfortable and people will treat me like an outcast and make fun of me and reject me. They knew what they were facing. This child had come to the place in themself where it was more painful to pretend to be someone they were not, than to face all the obstacles that happen when they "came out."

With the current climate in our nation, there's a lot of be concerned about. My friends who are in some sense part of a marginalized community, any of those friends, LGBTQ+ or immigrants, or people of color, or if they're poor, or whatever the "thing" may be, they are safe here. I will love them, laugh with them, cry with them, pray with them, eat with them, party with them. By party I mean eat trash foods and drink sodas and watch trashy tv or play games or just tell stories. Your freaky weird self is safe here. Because I'm a bit freaky and weird myself, and because I am not God, I'm not willing to judge you. 

Read other Slice of Life by clicking on the big Slice.

Plastic People

 Last night I watched the 100 years of Grand Ole Opry. It was fun to watch, to sing along to all these old songs I've known my whole life. I have noticed something recently in the world of country music. Of course, there's a spiritual element to most country music. The underlying Christiam theme to the entire genre, to me, rubs against the next point I see. I have never seen so much botox and plastic surgery as I did last night! Even young country stars, the women, are using all sorts of enhancements. Carrie Underwood used to have a distinct, distinguished look. Beautiful. Natural beauty. But these days, I hardly recognize her behind those lips. And I see that with even Kelsea Ballerini. I saw it with Marty Stuart, I see it in Brooks and Dunn, and just so many others. The men and the women all look.... plastic. It makes me sad. I don't think I even see this much "work" being done on pop stars. Don't hold me to that, I don't really know. But what I do know is I've seen a BUNCH of old rockers and you can the booze and pills and cheap living, the women, the men, that sex-for-hire all over their bodies. There is a bunch of worn out rockers. But country stars, they seem to me to be obsessed with their appearance. 

On another note, I loved seeing Barbara Mandrell, Reba McIntire, Blake Shelton (and the tribute to his younger self's mullet), Marty Stuart, Randy Travis, and even Keith Urban. So many artists, so many great songs. I wasn't particularly impressed with the tribute to Dolly. I thought the contributing artist's rendition of Jolene fell flat compared to the great Dolly Parton. 

So while I enjoyed a lot of the music, it saddens me to see all the emphasis on physical appearance and the artificial perfection. What a let down. Country music tells so many real stories, why doesn't it emphasize the realness and that whoever you are, that is perfectly okay?

To read other Slice of Life stories, click on the orange slice. 

What are your pet peeves?

 Pet Peeves. Yesterday I got to thinking about pet peeves. One of my pets is when there is a two lane highway and someone is going a set speed, why do they speed up when they get to the passing lane. It legitimately happens so. many. times. I don't care if it is an 89 year old man driving 10 miles under the limit, as soon as they hit that passing lane, they are hitting it hard and driving five miles over the limit! Or a young parent with a "baby on board" sticker in the window, carefully using their cruise control.... as soon as she hits that passing lane.... bam! five miles over the limit, or maybe even 7, just enough to make it hard to pass in the amount of time and space allowed. Or the construction worker, driving the company truck. And on and on and on. Ugh. Pet peeve. 

What are your pet peeves? Shoes lying around? Slow Sunday drivers? 

I am keeping this one short and sweet. But I really do want to hear what your pets are. 

Punishing the Trauma out of people

 I left the world of education about 4 years ago. And this was a big buzz phrase then among "trauma sensitive" organizations: You cannot punish the trauma out of (children). I put "trauma sensitive" in quotation marks, but I was/am a huge fan of a trauma sensitive approach to.... well, anything. Not just the classroom, but anything education, any thing people related.... family, jobs, social platforms. It's valid. And it goes with something that a mental health professional has said to me on numerous occasions. 

roughly: Addiction is a symptom of trauma and abuse. Punishing someone for their past pain is not a cure. Why are we punishing people for being victims?

Yes, why?

My daughter is a no-holds-barred, tell-it-like-it-is, i-don't-care-if-it-hurts, no nonsense kind of person. She calls it like she sees it. And for as young as she is, she sees a lot of things pretty accurately. I know she's not always right (and I'm damn sure gonna tell her the truth when I see that she can't see it), but she's spot on often enough not to discount her insights. And she's walked a hard path and forged through her fair share (more than fair actually) of trauma. 

She says I have a lot of PTSD. And I can kinda see it. How some things just make me freeze. And I'm traumatized by things that are not meant to be traumatizing. And I shut down. A lot. Which further breaks down my ability to communicate and express myself clearly and concisely. Something I'm striving for. Fighting for even. 

So anyway.... yesterday a weird thing (for me) happened. I just said what I thought. I didn't over-analyze, I didn't stop because there might be another side to the story than just mine, I didn't stop and reflect on whether what I had to say was loving or kind or helpful. I just felt it, then I said it. Don't get me wrong, there was a day when that is all I did. My Mom called me "brutally honest." But as I grew into adulthood, I realized that I didn't need to be SO honest all the time. Then I became jaded and scarred by people who used my words as swords against me and made me/let me believe that whatever I said was cold and callous and that I was unable to say a good word. So I withdrew. I stopped. I flew away. Or froze. 

So in the middle of this weird freedom last night I was still inundated with the feelings I felt in shutdown mode. I felt like running. hiding. escaping. I felt like screaming.... "get me the hell out of here and leave me alone!!!!" And I wanted to get the hell out of here and to be alone. And mentally, I went through an inventory. How can I get out of here. How can I stop feeling this? This feels icky, how can I escape? What crutches do I have handy to help me with this? Oxy. My friend, Oxycodone. Yes. That would help me. What sounds like a solution to me. 

And again I have to get back to a place of honesty. A place in time where Carrie has to be honest with Carrie. I'm an addict/escape artist. 

What happened differently last night (along with the crazy honesty and open-mouthedness), was that I was able to think about my desire for escape. And to think.... okay, Carrie, this too shall pass. It's not going to last forever. What can you do to feel better? Can you just face the moment? Remember, it won't last forever. It's only a moment in time. You are going to be all right. 

And then today I was struck with the whole idea that society in America has for punishing trauma out of people. Especially those in a place of addiction. And that when I have the desire to use mind-altering substances, it is just a cry for help. A deep desire for the pain to stop, for the unbearable to be bearable, for something to "take the edge off." 

You cannot punish the trauma out of a person. Not a child in crisis in an elementary school situation that it seems we've never encountered before, not an addict in active addiction needing a fix, not me in recovery still frozen by my emotions and desperate for escape.

Read other Slices of Life by clicking on the Slice.

Menopausal Madness or is it?

 The thing/s nobody talks about. One of the biggies is menopausal brain fog. It's real. You can ask menopausal women all around, and they know the realness of it. I think medical professionals, women in particular, admit to the realness of it. But society at large? Society seems to think women shoud be able to push through Preganancy Brain, and Menopause Brain, and living in flight or fight all the time. Women, we're strong, we do it all, that is true. But the brain fog, it's not just menopause, it is also from living in a constant state of fight or flight. Too much cortisol. 

My last year of teaching.... I knew I was drowning but I seemed to be unable to stop it. I knew my brain didn't work right, and recently, in retrospect, I think I was in the middle of a mental breakdown that year. Probably for the whole year. The year previous was the year of the Covid shutdown. My administrator was constantly looking for ways to defeat me. Juast the pressure of that was overwhelming. But it was also the year we lost my dad. I was in a constant state of crisis because Dad was in and out of the hospirtal and in and out of ICU and trauma treatment. Then it became the time I realized I need to use my FMLA, and spend time with Dad. I thought it was time to help him heal, to work on his recovery. But it wasn't. It was about Palative care and hospice and death and planning a funeral. As soon as I returned to work, I had one whole day where I was back in the building, the shutdown happened. Because of the FMLA and other difficulties with admin, I was removed from my teaching position. When I returned, it was as an assistant to the PE teacher. I was in a position to do very little and still keep my salary. So when the state shut down the schools, I was not responsible to Zoom with my kids or do any lessons and stya in touch. I had zero responsibility and still got paid. That part was nice. But that was also the beginning of the breakdown. At this time I didn't really realize that my administration might have been right, I was maybe not capable of teaching. 

And here I went, applying for teaching jobs for the next year. And I got one. But I was still drowning. I still help tight to the belief that I was going to be able to pull myself together, to get my shit together in one big pile and make it less stinky. My administration did every thing in her power to help me succeed. And toward the end of the year, I think I was making some progress. But it was too late. I just kept slipping into the void. I would plan for hours, and when the time to teach a lesson came, I was unprepared and scattered. I was forgetful and fuzzy brained. Which I blame only in part of menopause, mostly I blame it on cortisol. Stress. Fight or Flight. But I think it started with menopause. And it just multiplied. And kept pulling me under. 

I spent the next 15 months being unemployed and without an income. It was a healing time. I slowly started getting clearer minded. But here it is, four years later, and somedays I am still foggy brained. It comes and goes. But the days when the fog rolls in, it is devastating. I try to push through and pretend not to be terrified and not to be operating outside my element. 

I don't know if really blame menopause anymore. But I know that fog is real. And I wish it was something we didn't need to hide from the world and that we didn't have to say we are alright when we're not. I say it's a woman thing. But I bet it's bigger than that. 

Click on the slice to read everyone's posts! 

Is my thumb green or black this year? Time will tell.

 Somedays I write about things that are deep. Some days I write about quirky things. Sometimes about the busy-ness of every day life. Sometimes about hopes and dreams. 

Tonight is the second night in a row I've been stumped. Last night ended up being a hodge-podge summary of the day since I was super-duper late with my post. 

I am enjoying the warmth of Springtime. The warm afternoons, and no jacket weather. The part I don't like is that it is simply a foretelling of what is yet to come.... heat. Every year, I like summertime a little bit less. I used to love, love, love wintertime. When I was a kid and even as a young adult. But I've also grown to hate the extremes in winter. The ice and cold and plummeting temps. So all that really leaves me is Spring and Fall. And I do love them. But I also feel the foreboding in them of the season to follow. 

Sprintime is for planting and some yars I've had a green thumb. When I do, I love planting and tending and fussing over my plants. But other years it seems as though my plants were destined to die and no matter what new thing I try or old farmers almanac trick or wives' tale, they just seem determmined to die. This discourages me the next opportunity I get to plant the plants. I have decided to try. Yesterday I started some garden plants in peat pots. I think I am behind the curve already for planting seeds but I've decided to give it the ole college try. The trick will be finding a space where I can protect tomatoes, and peppers, and cucumbers, and melons from the chickens and goats, and also access them freely enough to keep them well-nourished and watered.

Wish me luck! 

Click on the Slice to read everyone's slice of life story.

Playing Beat the Clock

 Yesterday I remembered to blog. I wrote on my phone. And I couldn't figure out how to post it to the Slice of Life Challenge from my phone. If, for some reason or other, you want to see what I wrote about yesterday, Saturday, here's a link. Tonight I suddenly remembered that I hadn't blogged yet today. And it's 10:30 pm, Central time. Well, now it's 10:42. So I have 17 minutes to blog and post it to Two Writing Teachers before it is tomorrow on the East Coast. *sigh*

So what you get tonight is a random run through my Sunday. I overslept because, of course, I stayed up too late last night. You see, I make greeting cards. I draw little doodle pictures and mount them onto cardstock and create whimsical greeting cards. Usually blank inside, but I love adding sentiments. Especially for special orders. I like making cards for my recovery community. And birthday cards and little assortment packs for people. My mom's boyfriend (that sounds so weird, because, you know, she's 82...), orders a packet of 6 for $20 and I usually do 2 birthday, 2 thinking of you, and 2 sympathy. I usually add bible verses to these. Anyways.... I stayed up late drawing some cards last night. Which translated into oversleeping this morning. 

One of the cards that kept me up late. 

Today being Sunday, that wasn't TOO serious. Except that we just discussed last night that maybe the baby goat's tummy hurts more when her feed schedule is more erratic, and we should really try to stick to at least an approximate time. And we decided that time should be 8:30. It was more like 9:30 today. 

Then I got the pup out of the chicken pen and put him in with the goats. He's too big to be with the baby goaties anymore. We've had him for 2 weeks and I swear that he's doubled in size already. He is part Great Pyrenese and Part Karst Shepherd. I had never heard of Karst Shepherd either. From what I understand, they have a lot of the same livestock guardian dog qualities that Pyrenese have, with markings resemebling german shepherds. And size matching the Great Pyrenese. All of this chatter to say.... my little baby dog, he's a giant. He is going to be a size LARGE adult dog. 

I decided not to honor "french toast sunday" in the morning/brunch hours today and we had it for dinner tonight. 

In the in-between time I.... helped take the kids outside to play, set up and loaded the new incubator, gathered eggs (twice actually), created another new card, cleaned out the chicks dirty dirty pen, dispatched a dead duckling, looked after our favorite outside kitty who apparently sustained an injury and maybe even got said injury tangling with a skunk. (She stinks!) And one of her back feet is swollen up twice its usual size. Somewhere along the way I did a few dishes and made another card. 

Today's greeting card

Not too shabby for a day of rest. 

To read everyone else's Slice of Life, follow the link.

Living in a dustbowl

 Days like yesterday make me sympathetic and empathetic to people who lived through the dirty thirties. My trash carts kept blowing over…. No real surprise there. But the wind was so strong that I feared for the safety of the baby goats. I only left them out for about 20 minutes before my paranoia ran full circle and I brought them into our back room to roam indoors. These are the days when I don’t hate my dilapidated ole back room that was never finished and is only roughed in. Who cares if the kids roam free and make a mess. Just sweep it up. It’s just an add-on to chicken brooder messes, storage, laundry and so on. Also, Pumpkin lives back there. I call Pumpkin my purgatory cat. He can’t get along with the outdoor cats and live outside and I doesn’t matter if he could get along with the indoor cats because we already have too many cats inside and he can’t live inside. He also beat up and possibly was the death of one of the neighbors cats, adding to the reasons we can’t just let him run loose. So he can’t be in and he can’t be out. He lives in between the worlds. In purgatory. 

Oh, the wind. So we lived in the OK panhandle for a year and I had never seen so many brown sky days as that year! But that is what my day was like yesterday and what today is shaping up to look like as well. 

Yesterday was an extreme fire risk day. Thankfully the wond was out of the south. Because there was a wildfire a few miles north of me. North and west. Only about 5 miles away. They said it was as big as a football field. 

These are high anxiety days for me. But also rich with gratitude. I just tend to hide inside as much as I possibly can. And pray. For safety. For the wind to calm. For fire fighters to be safe. For people to be safe. 

Today I’m grateful for my little home in the country and that it may be full of dirt and dust but it is still standing. 

This was the view on Friday, March 14, 2025.

A new kind of teaching....

 The art of teaching is never an exact science. There's an art, and there's a science, but they are fluid. It's been five years since I've been in a classroom. But this year I chose to teach science to my home-schooled niece and nephew. It has been a rewarding adventure. First of all, there's an age gap... my niece is sixteen and my nephew twelve. So technically there's a bit of gap. But my niece is also developmentally delayed and fights with some significant learning disabilities. Ick, I don't like the words "learning disabilities" but for lack of a more appropriate way of describing her setbacks... she has some processing disorders that slow her down. My nephew may quite possibly be brilliant but he is also a genius at avoidance tactics. So anyway... this year has kept me in teacher mode quite a lot. When I am on top of my game, I write detailed plans and much is accomplished. We also go with the flow. The ebb and flow of natural rhythms, of the difference between homeschool and public school, and hormones and emotional and academic struggles. I have used every strategy in my toolbelt this year. But the rewards are giant. I don't know if my niece and nephew are enjoying what we're learning, but I have had a blast! I love it. But there is so much more.

I am building trust and relationship with my niece and nephew. They are struggling with being adopted. My niece has some nice little fantasies about her "bio family" as she puts it and how it will be a perfect reunion. And my nephew has resentments and mistrust from/for his biological family. He has a lot of anger, and hurt, and general disdain for the world. But we email a lot for school. Our school "set up" is roughly (there is a lot of being flexible on days I sub in a public school classroom or someone has a doctor appointment or other scheduling conflicts): Monday, Friday we Zoom. Tuesday and Thursday assignments and expectations are given through email and assignments returned via email. Wednesday is our in-person learning day when I drive to their house and we "do school" in person. One expectation is that they check their email every day. And respond in a timely manner. I try to put times on the expectations. But I digress... the joy here is that I have been receiving emails from each of them about various things in their lives and they trust me to talk to me, to ask me to pray for them, to ask me for direction, affirmation and advice. It is the best feeling ever. 

My teacher heart is happy. But my Auntie heart is overflowing.

Click on the giant Slice to read other people's slice of life! 

Simple Joys

 I woke up today in love with Springtime. It does something for my soul. The cool, crisp morning that I know will give way to a warm, sun-drenched afternoon. I found my morning routine to hold joy today. I helped my kiddo by taking care of her goats this morning. This is not a really a chore because it is a joy. These little babies have been ours for a week and a half now and they came to us YOUNG. Much younger than we anticipated. The one that was only 5 weeks when she came to us is happily bottle feeding and making huge growth. She's hefty and heavy. Her "sister" (they are not from the same momma), is a little older, and she refuses to take a bottle, but the vet said her tummy hurts because she was weaned too soon. She was also running a fever the day we took her to the vet. But she's improving. And oh-so-lovable! These little goaties bring me joy! I also found joy in letting the puppy out of his kennel and putting him in the pen. He is learning how to be a goat and hanging out in the goat pen. Does this sometimes equal him getting head-butted? Yes, yes it does. But not always. Daisy, our pregnant goat, headbutts him the most. But she doesn't usually seek him out. She usually headbutts him if he's in her business, inbetween her and her food (that girls loves to eat), or between her and a human. Sammy sometimes seeks Duke out just to headbutt him. But I digress... Getting Duke out of the chicken coop also lets the chic
kens and ducks out. I checked the egg boxes. 0 chicken eggs so far today, but three duck eggs! This brought me joy! We have 3 duck hens and have only ever gotten 2 ducks eggs at a time from them since we've gotten down to only 3 ducks. This means Apollo, our five year old duck hen, is laying too! She must be happy that it is Spring also. Apollo is the OG. We got her and Tofu (a Jumbo Pekin) in 2020 during the Covid shutdown. Tofu met an untimely demise with a raccoon. Apollo is the only fowl we have left from then. She has a forever home even if she never lays another egg in her lifetime. Finding 3 eggs today brought me joy. All three of my duck hens are laying. Yay! I recently found some boxes upstairs of stuff I never unpacked when we moved her over 4 years ago. I found a coffee cup from a bestie. I thought of her today as I drank my coffee and that brought me joy.

Thank you Lord for these "little" joys. I've been in a bad way, on a dark path. And the despair has screamed loud and the joy was silent. I'm so grateful it is back.

Happy Birthday Mom

 Today my Mom turned.... well, I guess I am not supposed to say. It is more than 80 years she's been on this earth. When I was 15, I ran away on my mother's birthday. Not necessarily because it was her birthday, I would say my mind was too full of me, myself, and I to think about the impact of running away on her birthday. I just didn't thnk it through. However, Mom and I had a rocky relationshiup. On some level, it was probably a special little "F you" for her birthday for her. I don't have a whole lot to say about the actual act and days surrounding it. What I will say is that reflecting on this, and looking at it in hindsight is terribly terribly painful. It has hurt for a lot of years. And sometimes I feel like I've forgiven myself, but it never "sticks." The agonizing disappointment in myself and my disgust at how I hurt someone I love always returns. I know that my God forgives me. And I know that my Mom has forgiven me. I have asked and she has answered. But I have terrible remorse and agony over this memory today. Thankfully, I don't remember this all the time. For instance, I was able to celebrate for most of the day today. This memory just came crashing through after I got home from visiting my Mom. 

Today, I am able to say that I am grateful for my Mom and every minute we are able to spend together. I know I won't always have it. 

My daughter was able to go with me today and surprise my mom. I made us lunch (enchiladas), and bought some angel food cake and ice cream and frozen strawberries for all of us to share. I made her a card this morning and we gave her that. It was a happy time and memories were made. 

We were also able to remember my Dad today and tell a few stories about Dad and remember his life and the joy he brought to us.

Happy Birthday Mom. I thank God for his forgiveness and I pray one day I'll know that freedom that forgiveness brings. I pray that today, you know how I love you and you can see love, not just the sorrow of the past. 

I see a mistake now! Eek! I already 
gave it to her! I also didn't take a great 
photo. At the top where you cannot see, 
it says "Happy Birthday"

Click on the orange to read other Slices of Life. 

Some aniversary dates are not the joyous kind....

Dear Dad,

It's been five years since you left us. It still think of you every day. Not every memory tears me up inside anymore, sometimes I can find the joy. I remember your zeal for life, your love for people, and your devotion to Jesus. 

I miss fishing with you. Hunting with you. Riding in the truck with you. I miss family get togethers out at the pond. 

Dad, I miss your wisdom, your creativity and your warmth. You were always the life of the party. But you also gave me great one on one time. Whether we went out to eat on a Daddy/Daughter date, or spent the day purchasing supplies for a patio we never finished. 

I miss your smile. I miss hearing you say, "Well, hello Carrie Lynner-skinner!" 

Every day I remember something that makes me smile. Some days I remember things that make me sad, or make me miss you in a really big way. Those are days I still cry.

Dad, life here is not the same without you. You left a very big hole. Remember that hole you always talked about that only I could fill in your heart? Turns out the space in my heart that only you can fill is rather large. 

I miss you Dad. 

Love,

Care