Still going....

 Or should I say.... still waiting. But I haven't quit. So I guess I'm going. Everyday I think it will be the magic day that there's movement on my disability account, but it never happens. 

On the home front.... 

• No cards are moving. I don't know if they've just lost their novelty or I changed something in promoting them. I'm not really asking you to tell me, I am just banging out a process on the keyboard. I really enjoy adding sentiment to cards, but mostly I leave them blank for the purchaser to fill in to meet their needs. Lately though, some little quips have been floating through my head as I design. So I figure it's time to start making cards with specific purposes, even if they are just humorous. I have this chicken I drew and it kind of looks like she's dancing, and I keep thinking.... "Henny Penny didn't want to be chicken, she didn't want to be a duck, she just wanted to shake her butt...." so that will be getting added to that one soon. 
• I'm collecting duck eggs to put in the incubator. Soon we'll be adding even more mixed up babies to our eclectic barnyard mix of ducks. Duck eggs incubate for 28 days. I have 15 eggs collected and am wanting between 20-25 to load up the incubator. That is only a matter of days. Or maybe even today. As I forgot to gather eggs yesterday. There could be as many as 8 eggs waiting for me when I go to let the ducks and geese out into the yard. 
• I'm trying to figure out what to do in my bathroom to finish it. Jadyn bought the paint and my friend Ed has offered mud and tape. So now to get the wall patched up, the shower frame finished and get my ass in gear.
• I found a job I'm interested in. Hmmmm. There's a whole mess with finding a job, juggling transportation with the already working member of this household, and the whole "we didn't have liability insurance at the time...." ordeal. 
  

That's about it here. I'll add a slide about ways to help.

Here is the amazon wish list for art supplies.

Here is a wish list of farm supplies we could use help with. 

This is the mundane, the every day, what's happenin' at the Hippie Chick Farm.... 

Trudging the road...

 A few things.... 

a few days ago I reached the big 3-5 years of sobriety. I still have a morbid fear of that first drink. And what all it would take away from me. I teared up at the holidays thinking of the hell I put loved ones through when I was still drinking. My drinking career was short. About 5 years. But I broke a lot of trust and lied and cheated and took advantage and tore down and fell down and descended into hell. 

One thing sobriety didn't bring was instant maturity. I was not suddenly able to realize that I was the creator of my destiny. All sorts of things that happened to me were not my fault. In fact, pretty much nothing was my fault and everything either "just happened to me" or was someone else's fault. You know people like that? They are not fun people to hang out with. Kinda pathetic. And that was me. 

And it is me. This is deeply ingrained into who I am. And I've been on the path to overcoming this for 35 years. I'm not there yet. But I'm making progress. I practice daily. Attempting to take responsibility for where I am and what is my responsibility and letting the rest go.

Cuz the other thing is that I take on blame for all of it. Even the stuff that actually isn't mine to own. And woe is me... I suck and so does my life.... wah, wah, wah.... 

So I have to practice letting go also. It's not all mine to own actually. 

I am preparing to enter the world of work again. Education in particular. I'd love to jump back in. But there's more than just me to consider right now. A kid, without a license, with a job, and needing to get there and back. A couple years ago I would have said, "tough shit kiddo, the mom is getting a job..." but now she's 18 and contributing to the household. She's not holding tight to the ideal of "it's mine" in regards to her check, she helps. A lot. So I have to look at this from the angle to two contributors doing the best that they can to see things through on this little farm and the need for win-win and work-together-ness. Oh boy. This is a hard curve for me. 

And I'm still waiting. For disability. It still says I'm in step 3 of 5 of reconsideration. I keep waiting for it to be at 5. It said this would take 3-5 months and the reconsideration date was August 24, 2022. So we have GOT to be at the end, somewhere soon. Sooner than later. 

I'm living on a minimum of resources. Food stamps. Kan-Care insurance and a measly amount of child support monthly. But going back to work.... it has to replace these things. Think about this. Will we actually be able to make it? Will I find something with insurance? I need to have insurance and to clear enough to replace $500/month in food stamps. Not to mention we'd really love to have trash service, gas money, vehicle maintenance money (insurance, oil changes, etc.), money to pay our own evergy bill, and homeowners insurance. Crap. That seems like a lot. Like it's insurmountable. Grrrr. 

God has promised me over and over and over that He'll take care of me and mine. But I'm looking for transition back to the world of the living and it feels tenuous and precarious. And so, as ever, we're still stuck in a holding pattern.... waiting. 

Tom Petty said the waiting is the hardest part. He ain't a lyin'.

Forecasting 100% chance of Fog....

 My brain is full of fog. Hazy. Messy. Lots of interference. 100% chance of fuzzy brain. 

So here I sit trying to muddle through, still believing, that tapping it out on the keyboard, sharing my muddled, befuddled brain with you, will somehow lift me out of this mire. But it's lost... beyond the fog. 

My give a shit.... it's there, just beyond that hazy, foggy brain. My drive and ambition.... just beyond the fog. Creativity.... past the fog. Reason and clarity.... lost in the fog. 

I am still grateful. Practicing gratitude. It has become habit. For this I'm grateful. But the emotion, the feeling of gratitude, is also lost in the fog. The joy. It's there. But it's out in the fog. 

Apathy. I have that in spades. It's larger than the joy. Larger than the melancholy. Larger than my gratitude. Larger than my creative gene. 

Apathy. Looming large. Rolling in on the fog. Clouding up my judgment. 

New Beginnings, clean slates....

 I'm SOOOOO in need of a clean slate/new beginning. I'm so glad that New Year's brings this. I know I am capable of starting over any time, any day, any hour. But there's something symbolic about the new year, something magical and powerful. And I'm ready. 

I'm ready not to be a puddle of disabled crippledness. I'm ready to be a contributing citizen, a capable human. I'm ready for renewal of spirit and mind as well as body. Not that my body doesn't need it, it most assuredly does. Today I attempted yoga. and I had the privilege to get to be informed by my body just how far we have to go to get mobility back, and just how impaired my range of motion still is. It was eye-opening for certain. 

Then there's the whole disability fiasco. You know me. Did I listen to others when they said how difficult it is to get disability? nope. I was the exception. because of course, I'm me. And I was actually disabled. So why wouldn't I get it. Ha! I don't have a final determination yet. I have lost paperwork. Which I might add I really have to practice letting go of resentment here. If you know me, you know I am not the world's best at meeting deadlines and getting things turned in in a timely fashion. But paperwork was received on a Monday, due back on that coming Friday and I had it in the mail on Thursday. Folks, for me, that is extremely timely. So the fact that the disability office never received it is annoying. Now I am filling it out again. But knowing that I qualify according to the qualifications of someone who will be disabled for 12 months or more, and knowing that they are not really looking at that qualifying marker, is really disheartening. The first denial said I should be able to return to work by November 1st. I don't know what kind of job they think I'd be qualified to do, but I was quite cripped up yet on November 1st. Ugh. 

So my frustration lives on.

I am trying to plan my future. Because I am no longer confident that just because I was actually disabled and met the qualifications laid out by SS disability that I will actually get it. But I'm overwhelmed, frustrated and discouraged. 

However, there is a little hope laced in there. 

I have hope that I'll continue to gain range of motion and general mobility. I already limp less than I have for the last two years of my life. I am still slow. And stiff. My knees are often still stiff and don't want to loosen up much. 

But trying to gauge what I am capable of REALISTICALLY, not according to the powers that determine disability, is tough. It's scary. Overwhelming. 

I am starting to dream of Kindergarten. Because I am in love with those little people and we need more Kinder teachers who love Kindergarten, Kinders, and Kinder parents. Teachers who know that little Suzy and Johnny will learn to read, and that it's okay that not everyone learns at the same pace. That learning is supposed to be fun and is meant to be celebrated. That these babies are worth all the extra hours. What if I could get my body and mind in shape before school starts again in August? Because I obviously cannot get there by this week or next. And recovering from knee replacement does take time. Duh. That's why they say it takes 12-18 months. But it's easy to forget this, because the doctors themselves act like I should be whizzing along doing all I could do before I fell prey to osteoarthritis. Then when I bring it up, they suddenly remind me that it can take up to 18 months to recover. Really? Because just 30 seconds ago you acted like I should be able to lead Kinders backwards down the hall and not trip, keeping a crisp walking pace. Yes, the teacher needs eyes in the back of her head, because one necessary skill is walking, leading a line, and facing your precious subjects, as you move toward wherever you are going, guiding little bodies to learn to keep hands to themselves, keep quiet in the hall, keep feet to theirselves and still follow behind the person directly in front of them.

But anyway.... 

there is a some hope interlaced with this clean slate of 2023. Hope that I'll cease to be disabled, according to ME, to what my body can ACTUALLY do, not just what disability says I can do. Hope that I won't be stuck in limbo.

Folks, I have a dilemma that needs it's own blog post. But I'm asking you to send good vibes and prayers about something that would make my life immeasurably easier/better, and seems like an insurmountable mountain. Please take that extra 30 seconds and hold my need near and dear. It does make a difference. It always does. 

Here are the way to help:

Random thoughts including a snow squall....

 What the what is a snow squall anyway?! 

I guess I'm experiencing it. There's snow-ish. Snowish stuff coming from the sky, barreling through the air, at whatever angles it might choose. The news station says it's the coldest windchill in at least 22 years. I just wonder, is that on this very day? For every day of the 22 years? Or how does this compare to the arctic blast from early 2021 that kept us all inside (I do mean ALL... I had 22 critters in the back room by day 3 of that arctic blast) and made natural gas prices sky rocket. Is this one really colder? I'll tell you, I need a shower, but the floors are cold, the air is cold, my feet are frozen and I don't expect that Y'all are coming to visit. So I'll just let my hair be all gnarly and dreadlock-y for a couple more days. I'll hunch down in the heat and enjoy it because as warm as it is when our make shift little heater runs, it will cool off at an alarming rate when the heat stops blowing. When the heater runs its like standing in front of the fire place and soaking up all the heat until it's too hot and it gets uncomfortably warm. I could move over one chair and it wouldn't blast me quite as directly but it's strangely comforting. And-- I know this is my own weird grief thing-- it makes me somehow closer to my Dad. All those years. Bundling up. Going to work for big energy. or small-time work for his own company. getting those farmers back up and running. The power of energy. Electricity. Such a noble calling I'd say. And in the end.... bundling up and headed to the coffee shop. So he could stop and help a neighbor who's car won't start or push a stranger out of a drift. Or help his family with the farm emergencies that just happen when the temperature is arctic and the wind starts blowing. When he got home, he'd strip down from all the layers. The layers that could not keep that air from chilling his bones and he'd hunker down in front of the fire until at least the first couple layers of frozen chill would thaw from his bones. Then he'd add more wood and sit in his chair and soak up heat in what I can only describe as a sauna of our family room and wait for the chill to subside. So I sit here and soak up the heat and remember my dad and how he loved to be a helper and how he'd always do the right thing, even when it meant leaving the family he loved to get power restored to some community member on Christmas Eve while we put our celebration on hold waiting for him to return to us. And I feel a melancholy. It is the same melancholy that never leaves me. The one I was born with. The one that I blamed on others for a long, long time until I realized that I don't know the beginning of the sad. It was always there. It's not evil. (Though I sometimes forget that). It just is. It always was. And it will always be there. Sniffing around trying to grow. And somedays it grows. I feel that melancholy. and I know in my heart that it's a part of me. that it just is. and I'm sad for my dad. he left us. and I'm still not sure how to navigate this world without him. I'll never be the difference-maker he was. But he didn't know he was this hero kind of guy. He knew he was flawed. He knew there were so many parts of himself that he never made peace with or made sense of. I think, in the end, with the help of his clergy, he came to know more about right and wrong and lines that shouldn't be crossed. That some things that feel like love do more damage and tear down the soul, of others, but also of himself. I think this because he knew on some level the difference between right and wrong. But for so many years there was this part of him that didn't get it. And he saw every failure. I don't know if he ever forgave himself for ways he failed. 

This is irony at it's fullest in my life. Because people tell me that I'm awfully hard on myself. But the truth is, sometimes I'm over the top with strange or wrong ideas and they don't feel wrong. And I'm scared I'll never learn my lesson and be the person I am supposed to be and it terrifies me. I want to make a difference too. 

I know I should take water to the birds. I don't want to. My weather app says it's -5º and feels like -32º. I'm guessing they really could use their water filled earlier (like now) and again later (like dusk or close to it). It will freeze in between. The "barn" is an open-sided shed and it's definitely warmer than outside! But it's not that warm. I'm sorry now that I didn't get a tarp stapled to the front to keep some of that wind at bay. *sigh*. The cats are invited to the back room, but haven't taken me up on my offer yet. Well, one kitty of the three did. But I wouldn't let my orange tomcat bring his breakfast with him, a large black bird still steaming and freshly killed. I'm glad my cats are savvy and can take care of themselves. But it's cold enough that I would let them inside for sure. This is my little bitty mission in life right now. The people are not frozen.... thank God. And the animals need looked after. That is my little farm life. Not the life-changing mission of a teacher. Not the energy giving mission of an electrician. Just a simple, tiny calling. One I can easily overlook and say, "I have no purpose today." 

God grant me the serenity.

and give me a purpose. please. feeling useless is only magnified in the midst of this squall. 

Winter Solstice

 Today is the shortest day of the year. Thank God. Today came in with all sorts of frosty wonder. I couldn't help but smile and say, "Thank you God for reminding me that every season is a season of beauty and wonder." As a child, I remember the Christians whispering... "they are trying to take God out of our schools and changing the celebrations to winter solstice instead of Christmas!" "Winter solstice is a heathen holiday. A pagan celebration." the words were cold. Icy. Void of any Christmas cheer, void of wonder. And so it pasted itself into my soul. A cold and sterile view of Winter Solstice. Coldly evil and void of any pleasure or celebration. But when I fast forward to today.... I don't want this old view, this perception given to me by small-minds filled with fear. Today winter solstice is a turning point. The last day that daylight eludes us earlier and earlier. The pivot-point. Tomorrow will be a longer day. Every day. Until Summer Solstice. The next pivot. Today l long to take the definition of refresh, renew, and rest. The short days are so a body can rest. So my soul can rest. rest. Refresh. rejuvenate. I'm grateful to have this viewpoint. Namaste.

It's that time again...

 Well, I was blogging a lot for a little bit. Now I'm stuck again. Ugh. I didn't even want to dive in. But it's begging time. This feeds my apathy. It's so unmotivating to be in limbo, to be dirt poor, to be in this waiting game for disability. There is some movement. Well, let me just say, I know I was contacted by them wanting me to fill out more paperwork. And so were some of the professionals in my life. But it still says I'm in step 3 of 5 of the reconsideration. So I know there is something happening, and yet..... I'm forever in step 3 of 5. *sigh*

I realized that a new evergy bill posted and I didn't even notice. I've gotten pretty far removed I guess. I just draw my little cards, feed my little birds, and hide in my home. 

So here are ways to help: