Dog Fighting and Amazon and Bills.... oh my!

 This post has been sitting here for a little while already. Type a couple sentences, hit the wall, wait for writer's block to subside, come back to it, erase said sentences. Start over. Repeat until today. Today is the day. I will get the thoughts to translate to characters and letters on this machine and get them out of my head. 

First things first. I am on hold with DCF. I am number 74 in the que. I will opt for a call back. We'll see if it works today. I tried this earlier in the week and about mid afternoon I forgot that I was waiting urgently for their callback and walked away from the phone for a brief couple of minutes. Not long, maybe 5 minutes tops. But yes, that is when they called back. *sigh*

Next, taking care of business. The business of being broke. Ugh. Who likes this part? Can I tell you a secret? (You know I'm going to no matter your response to my question). I secretly like/love the part where I feel loved and cared for by anonymous souls of the universe and knowing that God is such a big entity that he can take care of me on a daily basis and a month-to-month basis. So I hate the begging. But I feel the love in the receiving. 

This month's needs. Are still big. But not giant. You know, when you're at the point that things like insurance (home-owners, auto insurance) are luxuries, your needs start getting smaller. Pay evergy. Pay phone bills. Keep animals and people in enough food to be healthy. Be able to buy toilet paper. 

So here we go..... 

Evergy says.... the magic number is $308.19. See inserted slide for account details.

Phones. I was bragging not too long ago about paying them. That was a smallish lie. I paid mine. But the Punky's, hers was paid by donation last month, and let's face it, she is currently without service. bummer. Our phones are on Straight talk and if you want to be anonymous, you should send us a straighttalk refill card (the $35 one is all we need) in the mail to 4411 S. Woodberry Rd., Burrton, KS 67020. If you don't care about anonymity, you can just message the scratch off number to me on facebook. Then I go online and put the numbers into the right slot in our account and violà we have phone service. 

The weather is wreaking havoc on my knees. Both of them, but for sure the newest Robo-knee. Aches and pains and pangs of arthritis. Oh my! 

Dogs. I don't know how to tackle this dog fiasco, and it's what has triggered the stagnation in blogging. Last week on Thursday night we let dogs out to do what dogs do. And for our dogs that doesn't just mean pottying, but also barking. Barking at the darkness and the mystery predators awaiting just beyond the line of sight. So they were barking when the sound changed, so aggression and crying. I ran out there. The new knee does move fairly quickly. Yelling at the big OAF to leave my dogs alone, and seeing that the blondie, my Maddie, was just fine and dandy. But then out of the shadows limps a little black mess, our terrier, and fearsome leader, Alice. We don't know for sure, but experience would say that Alice started something she was not able to finish. Because that is what Alice does. Rules with an iron fist and scares and growls and snaps and attacks the other dogs. But she's a small terrier and the Oaf, our Princess, is not anything small. She is rumored to be Catahoula, Husky, and pitbull. She has a very Pitty face. It's also a very pretty face. But best guess I would say she is probably an 80 pound dog. Alice is a 15 pound dog. Alice was seriously injured. Some deep and gaping puncture wounds requiring stitches, as well as multiple more punctures that didn't require stitched but were wounds nonetheless. And deep bruising. The vet mentioned the reason she was favoring one leg was that the bruising was pretty deep and severe. Yeehaw. 

The general census is that we need to re-home the Princess. But we don't know if we can. Let me tell you, I love that big lug. I rescued her. I mean, technically we just acquired her, adopted her, whatever. But she was in dire need of being rescued and she is safe and healthy and happy here. I love her and she loves me. And today was supposed the magic day we take her to the Humane Society. Well, after the ridiculous amount of tears last night, the new conclusion is that we can't. So I don't know how exactly we will handle this, but we'll handle it. I think she is going to be called on to step up her head of ranch security and lean into the title and do her job. And that will lead to less indoor time. Less interaction with the small and fierce Alice, who walked around all night last night just pissed off at the world and growling at all the dogs and cats and anything/anyone else that got too close.

We'd rehome Alice, but no one would want her. Isn't that sad? Yes, yes it is. And there are moments and even days when I love Alice and tell myself that she's a good dog. But she's not really. She's cantankerous. And bitchy. All. the. time. But Alice needs to be loved too and she is Jadyn's dog. Jadyn is super mad at her right now for putting us in the uncomfortable position of having to work through this having to decide about re-homing, retraining, how to finance $400 of vet bills. I borrowed $200 to take her to the vet. But I still owe Southview $193. Damn dog. I think I speak for both of us when I say, we just want to shake her and secretly I harbor a desire to kick her. But I don't and I won't. But yeah, I have pent up frustration here. 

We were the anonymous recipients of a pillow of shame for her to keep her from licking. Thank you Jesus and thank you to whoever sent us this. I mean, amazon. I thanked them, but they just provided the goods, that financed the goods. 

I feel like this is probably a boring read and full of "matter of fact." But I guess that is just where it is at today. 

insomnia

 I don't even like the word: insomnia. Yuck. And I've never battled this. Other women talk about the insomnia that accompanies menopause. Thanks change of life for no sleep. But I haven't had to deal. I sleep like a rock. Except tonight. Tonight I sleep like a baby. A colicky baby. Asleep for two hours, awake and crying for 2 hours....

Okay, not crying. Everything but... 

Dreaming... what would a cooktop cost? I wonder if I can wire that myself? Will I blow us up? oooo, look, a clawfoot tub. Let's get that 2nd bathroom ship shape, and right now. Okey-dokey? 

Fretting... why God? Why are we $.02 away from broke again? or is it still? Did I just live in oblivion for a couple days/weeks? *sigh* What about guinea pig food? And food for ducks and the guineas and the dogs are eating like crazy and acting like they've never been fed before. We'll be out of dog food in a lamb's shake if they keep going like this. and I see that important call came and that they left a message. Finally. Great. My one and only message, and now I have a new message in the portal. I know what that means. That means case closed. That means I get to jump through even more hoops. I can berate myself for missing the call but seriously, if you want me to answer, leave a message the FIRST time you call so I can watch out for your calls. What if I was pooping when you called? Seriously. One message and one following missed call are not enough. Ugh. And seriously. I said pooping. Cuz the commercial says it is okay to admit that women poop. And if you've met me, you know I would have told you before the commercial said it was okay.

Drawing. Sometimes it is fun. I have completed 8 of 12 mallard cards for Christmas time. For the most part they are fun. But there's a pressure. A pressure that doesn't accompany cute little penguins sitting on a sled or a penguin eating a slice of watermelon reminding me that summer is over and sweet fruits are fading. I'm fretting about drawing and what if I'm not as good as I said I was?! But seriously, my drawings and ability to draw have improved and expanded 10-fold. Whatever that means. 10 times. And new pens. Fun. Except learning how to use them. Not-as-much-fun. I mean, I wrote with them and I wasn't ready. I didn't KNOW them intimately. And the writing looks.... juvenile. Maybe I got ahead of myself when I thought I could do this card thing..... 

    

  

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Coons. Raccoons. They were in the barn last night. Well, the night before this one (the longest night ever mostly because its 4:30 now and the dogs got me up at 2ish and I've been awake). This night might never end and then I'll not venture out to the barn to see what I did or did not trap. Night before last the geese stayed in with the ducks. I'm pretty sure that is why I had a full head count in the morning. Well, not full. We've lost 4 ducks in the last 3 weeks and with the loss of our beloved Tofu, the headcount may full well never be complete or whole again. But the remaining heads were accounted for and not by counting up pieces and parts, but all were alive. 

See? So much to fret about. Dream about. Worry about. There's more. But for one thing, my need to pound on computer keys is waning. And there's the part where there really may be some things I'm not ready to put out there for anyone and everyone. But hopefully morning will be coming soon. I'm tired, but not sleepy. The idea of laying back down fills me with dread. 

Maybe I'm just Tired....

 Yesterday I was in a slump. Grumpy. Out of sorts. Grouchy. Touchy. Disgruntled. Discontent. Certainly not my favorite kind of mood. To be honest, it was the sort of day where you know nothing is wrong, it just doesn't feel right and praying for bedtime seems to be the best solution. So here I was, praying for the day to end and hating that I was wishing my lift away. But I went to bed early-ish for me, and got up late. These are good things. Today is much better. Yesterday I was tired in a Lord-take-me-away-from-this-earlthly-mess kind of tired. And part of the tired comes from not being able to put the finger on what it is. I know I'm tired of living in the clutter. But as we try to clean and organize, we come up against problems best solved with cash. Which we don't have. Coming up with $35 for a phone bill is important, but let's face it, that is not a lot of cash. And I don't really have extra. So.... 

It was also the tired of not knowing when it will ever really end, this waiting for disability to make a ruling.... again. And being tired of holding my breath. Living poor just gets old. I think yesterday's tired was the kind that comes from utter exhaustion of the soul. 

This soul is tired. Bone tired. Dog tired. Drag-ass tired. Too tired to pray tired. 

Thank God the sun came up today and I can reach out again and ask God to renew my spirit. Thank God that each day is a new beginning. 

A moment of Truth: I'm never NOT asking for money....

 Life and times of me and the Punk. They've been rocky to say the least. Punkin-seed said the post about abandoning her when she needed me most was unfinished, it just abruptly ended. Which is true. I believe that my readership (much like a mother ship... har har) deserves the raw, real me. But that one was difficult to write. And while I applaud myself for choosing transparency, it can and does kick my ass sometimes. Every day I have so many thoughts I want to write about, they pile up and bury me. One of the things on my mind though is the money situation. I was sharing a prayer request yesterday and I qualified it with, "I am only sharing this as a prayer request, I'm not asking for money...." because heaven forbid that anyone views me as someone looking for a handout. Is that not hilarious? Why do I think it's hilarious? Because let's face it. There is never a time when I'm not asking for money. Just sayin'.... 

Here's the request. A person in Burrton has a GMC Jimmy 4wd they would sell me for $2000. Well, that is the exact vehicle I've been praying for. So I am praying for some sort financial miracle to come along and make this happen. So yes, I was not directly asking the pastor for money to purchase said vehicle, but I would not turn it down either. 

In light of recent car problems, to the car I don't own, I might add, there is a certain urgency to the need for a vehicle. Well, there is and there isn't. It's an exhausting amount of work to find rides and whatever, but in our current state of relying on powers that are greater than our own self-sufficiency, it is a great opportunity to let God be God and to let miracles happen. So there's this whole giant guilt thing with the car we've been using. My friend's car, that allowed us not to be stranded in the country without a working vehicle. First the AC stopped working, which led to the ceiling trim stuff, headliner (?), to come loose, because of the 2/70 AC. Then there is the slob factor. I treated that car like it was my own. Shame on me. There is also a tire factor. The passenger front tire has a leak. We have to air it up frequently. It was on the proverbial list. Get tire patched. So now would probably be a good time to come clean to my friend about all of this. The guilt of driving another person's car was big enough already, or so I thought. But there is a more than fair chance that this latest problem is big. Like blown head gasket big. I feel like a terrible friend. Like a loser friend. Because I begged to use my friend's car and now I've run it into the ground. What kind of friend does that?! Apparently this kind of friend. *sigh*

I am getting excited about the work we are doing around the farm. Today's agenda includes fun cosmetics. Yay. I splurged at Walmart the other day because we got an unexpected cash gift. I bought about $20 worth of bulbs to plant. One thing Punky and I have talked about it that we need to do what we can to clean up the farm, yard, house and make it appear functional and pleasing to the eye. When you have 0 income, a $20 splurge is a big one. But I also know myself and if I don't put some of these little controlled splurges in my life, I'll go off the deep end one of these days and just dive in all the way and have a big, uncontrollable splurge for all the pennies in our possession. So today's to do list includes planting bulbs. I can't wait. This will be fun. 

As always, if you want to contribute, there are always ways to help. What we've learned about straight talk is that you don't want to give them your debit information directly. So if you'd like to help with a phone bill, buy the refill card at Walmart. We use the $35 plan. It's enough. If you purchase the refill card, message me and we'll get those details taken care of. Or if you'd rather be anonymous, put the card in a card and mail it to: 4411 S Woodberry Rd., Burrton, KS 67020. 

Remember, Punky is a bit directionless right now. It is the time of her life to question and want, and rant and scream anyway, but we're up against some big circumstances here. She would do well to start a youtube channel and video blog. She's super excited about making some of those videos where they are all sped up and you can watch her make something (like chicken pens) is a short period of time. But she needs the stuff to do it now, like the camera and tripod and such. That stuff is on an amazon wish list. You can access that HERE. So you can help a young adult grow into her adulthood by contributing. And that is the kind of shameless begging I am not able to stop doing. We need help. Your help. and we know it and we humbled by the awesomeness of others. Thanks for being part of our world. 

more life and times of the Punky-girl

 The other day I talked here about my Punky. And I wanted to delve back into this. Jadyn, the Punk, Punky, Punky-girl, Punkin, Punkin-seed. She has battled respiratory illness all her life as I wrote about in the previously mentioned post. Did I mention that she was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia this June? This is great and terrible all at once. It's great that there are explanations for some of the unexplained pain and weakness and fatigue. It sucks because.... Fibro. 

This Punkin-seed of mine, she likes to work. She's a hard worker and good at it, strong work ethic. Customer service is something that comes naturally to her. I love-love-love watching her interact with John Q. Public. But the constant battle of good and evil, I mean, er, health vs. illness, takes a toll. On jobs, self-esteem, and so much more. Punky misses an average of 1-2 days of work a week. She needs something that can accommodate this. Like 2 days on, one off, 2 on and another off. It's hard to find this. She lost her last job because of this exact thing. It was manual labor, line work, manufacturing. She LOVED it. But her body did not. This is a consistent issue. So here we are, the kid needs a job, and she has a suspended license. Mom is just coming off of surgery. You know? But I am driving again. Well, I was driving again. But you may have read that the car I was driving (I don't even own it), is not fit to drive currently. But here's the thing, the Punk has applied for some jobs and she gets all choked up and teary and says, "what if I can't do it?" "What if I get fired again?" "What if I get sick?" Lots of What if's. And this plays havoc on her self-esteem. We have been scratching our heads trying to figure out some non-conventional ways that she can make life (and work) work for her. 

We've thought of a few. But the truth is, it's been a struggle. One conversation that we keep having over and over again is this. The Punk wants to "take over the farm when you die Mom." First of all, I'm not planning to ever die. And this makes me chuckle. Like What-the-heck-do-I-really-have-something-you-want?! and also, "...so now you're wishing me dead?!" But moving is hard and we've been here for 2 years now and my girl is kind of starting to realize that she likes country life and living on a little farmstead. And she's good with the animals.  Real good. They like her and she likes them. 

So we're working on the idea of homesteading. Making the farm work for us. Creating our own jobs instead of attempting to fit the mold of conventional jobs. One thing that is starting to work is artwork. Yay! My cards are starting to catch on and I can't pay our bills off the sales yet, but it makes the pinch less painful. And pays for "extras" like, you know, phone service. 

Punky does most of the research and we're finding what poultry we want to invest in and what things won't bring us joy (or profits). Jadyn does an amazing job of finding information through vlogs and blogs and other sorts of youtube stuff (this stuff her is beyond my pay grade). We've decided to start a video diary of our journey. As we start to generate income it will be fun to record the journey. This task falls to Jadyn. I am the writer, and she's going to start following the day to day tasks using video and creating a youtube channel. So we need to get started on this. And it takes stuff. So we've created an Amazon list to help get started. 

This is the part where I tell about the goodness of people. One thing I need to admit to myself OFTEN is that people are good to me on a consistent basis. I mean, believe in the good and good will happen. Which is a cool concept. But the thing is, I'm a jaded soul. And God (or Good) is "out to get me." He is determined to let me know that people are genuinely good and that good things happen all the time. Which is where you angels without wings come in. I'm going to stay corny and upbeat and not get teary-eyed here. But the reality is, I have so many awesome people in my life today: rescuing me when cars break down, paying my evergy bill, picking up prescriptions, giving us rides, lending us a car, bringing out groceries. People are good. So good. dammit, here come the waterworks again. 

Thanks Lord for this good life.  I'm so very grateful. More adventures to come! I can't wait to see what this transforming of the farm looks like through the lens of Jadyn's optimism and other people's good will. 

Being Poor or Blessed.... or Poor AND Blessed: both at the same time

 Yesterday I received one of those blessings in the mail. So off to town (Hutchinson) I trotted to get some cash and get some needs knocked out. This quick little outing quickly turned into a recipe for disaster. 

First, I went to the bank to cash the check. The bank said no. So I said gimme back my check, I'll figure something out. So I went to the Walmart. It says that it can cash personal checks up to $200 and this wish was less than $200. But the system declined it. Thank you big banking. Okay, so I'll take it somewhere else, I say to myself. I went to Dillons. They only cash personal checks up to $25. *sigh* Last ditch effort. Try the (name of the bank it was drawn off of). I set off looking for said bank. No luck. Got lost. Found a cool park, but no bank. At the light, smoke and steam starting rolling out from under the hood. I quickly pull into a parking lot and turn the engine off. Now what?! Who should I call? Who even knows about cars?! I called person number 1 in my contacts that might be able to help. No answer. What if there's no one else to call? What if I'm truly all alone? The church. I'll try that pastor from the church where I go eat dinner. So I call him. He says he'll head my way and in about 45 minutes, there he was. We can't find the leaky hose, but I mention the antifreeze was coming out the top of the lid of the overflow where you put it in.  So "the pastor" goes to the auto store and gets antifreeze and comes back. I'm not sure how time passes here, but I'm starting to be very aware that my pain meds are all at home, and I am not. 

We end up putting in antifreeze and I start out for home with the pastor behind me. I make it a whopping 6 or 7 blocks before the engine temp starts to shoot up again. So when the light turns green, I move to the right lane and find a side street to pull onto. 

Now we have to decide. Tow to a shop where someone might be able to fix said car? or tow to the farm where no one knows how to mechanic. 

The short answer: it is sitting out back by the garage. 

So.... 

Sucky poor people things:

• no money for a tow or anything else.... 
• no money means no bank account which has come about after years of living with a bank account in the red, so no bank account if better for me anyway.... 
• no bank account means no way to cash a check
• no money in the bank or on a card means I will have to shop for whatever needs we have, can't just make a walmart order or farm store order to be picked up later.

Blessings that happened/continue to happen in my state of humility and despair:

• someone sent the extra payment on the check that I couldn't cash
• the tow truck driver slipped the payment for the tow into my hand when we got home.
• people show me their goodness by being willing to help pick up groceries, prescriptions, and more
• the church/pastor paid for the car to get towed
• I had a friend willing to let me drive their car in the first place. 

In the midst of two steps forward and one step back that sometimes shuffles into one step forward and two steps back, we are learning to look for the miracles. To find the good. To believe that good is going to keep on happening. We are learning about dreaming and how dreamers can't stop dreaming just because reality tells a different story. 

Dream on.... 

Confessions continued....

 Yesterday's post left the reader with an unfinished feeling. Like whoa, where's the rest of this? But I just had to quit. Giant epiphanies are draining. However, other than exhaustion, I felt like there weren't/aren't huge repercussions from yesterday's spilling of the guts. I have deep pain and sadness over parenting fails. Giant gaping holes in my ability to mold and shape my children for good because of my lack of parenting skills and my own pain. This is saddening. But right now, I don't have a heaping helping of self-loathing on top of it. Just the sweet release of letting this failure be exposed and hopefully expunged. I know my kid has forgiven me, and I know it is a process.... some days are better than others for both/each of us. I wish I had felt like I had options back in those moments, but I didn't feel that way. I just felt drained. 

Another big "aha" moment for me goes something like this.... I could not fill anyone's bucket, mine included because of the huge deficit. Not only was the bucket empty, but so was the pond I'd been dipping it into. I was unable to give to a job. I was unable to give to my children. I was unable to give to myself. I was defeated and depleted. Losing my job was a blessing. I hate not knowing if and when bills are going to get paid. And we seriously miss having a trash company! That is one of the biggest complaints we have. We have the privilege of allowing others to take care of us in regards to our energy bill each month. It's a cool thing to see. And not always a nail-biter. I'm kind of getting lax about it, really. "Nawwwwww, I'm not worried, God's got this, He has seen to it that the energy bill has gotten paid the last 4 months in a row! He won't drop me now!" Which is cool and I love it. But I feel guilty that I haven't lain down and cried and pleaded and begged and it still got paid. What? That's weird. I know... Guilt is a strange beast. And so is relying on God/others. If I expect it's gonna get paid, then I'm cocky, ungrateful. If I stress and cry and carry on, I'm lacking in faith. And those are just the "rules" that are not spoken but are still most definitely in play. That doesn't even get into all the weird shit that swirls around my brain. But again, I digress...

I needed this time off. I told someone I thought I could successfully go back to work now. And that seemed true for about 5 seconds. But then I realized the mental energy that being "on" in a job and being "on" at home would still be too much. I need to connect with my kid. I don't do surface level connection for any reason. What I mean is, I don't know how. I don't know how to superficially care about those I work with and those I work for and/or my family. I don't have a nine-to-five button or a leave-work-at-work switch. I am possibly ready and able to do a half-ass job that doesn't take too much thought or interaction and also doesn't use too much of my time. Like a 20 hour a week something that wouldn't be draining (or fulfilling, but that's not part of this equation). I am learning to be here for whatever goes on in life right here, right now. And it's a learning process, I have not mastered it by any means. But learning is messy and dirty and draining. So just learning, and cooking and cleaning have me maxed out. 

I spend a fair amount of time questioning.... "so God, if I'm not going to be disabled, I'm just going to be out of an income for a year? How is that going to work God? I will just live forever without a car? I'll never get my taxes caught up? I'll never get to help my child get her car back on track? I'll just always be trying to play catch up?!" "So God, are you saying the same thing I've been fighting against all this time? That Im just lazy and not disabled?!" "Um, God, what the....?" "I know you've held me this long, but seriously God, how much longer?!" 

And I usually come to the same-ish conclusions. Gratitude. I have much to be grateful for. Educate. People don't know they are shaming you. Unless you teach them. I will be okay, no matter what happens because God has always taken care of me in the past. 

So that is the wrap-up from the unfinished blog from yesterday. I still have more to say. Maybe I'll post again last today. There is lots of learning going on here.  Exciting.... yes. Fun? sometimes. Scary? all the times.                                                       

Confession from the Punky's mom....

 I have had a few epiphanies of my own lately. About the trauma, fight-flight-freeze, chronic stress, constant struggle to stay afloat. The 4 years that my kid was in high school were all crazy with stress. I-hope-my-baby-doesn't-kill-herself-today stress. And accusations and failings and falling short when the needs didn't stop long after the resources were depleted. You can't pour from an empty cup. But you can create accusations and hate and bitterness and blame. ouch. I don't blame myself too much too often because I was depleted on every level. Spirituality? bankrupt. Mental Health? bankrupt. Self-care? bankrupt. Physical Care (crazy shit like... sleeping an adequate amount of time, eating meals, and showering)? bankrupt.

A good thing to come from all this suicidal ideology and hospitalization and what-not.... insurance. My kid has insurance. And this covered the cost of a psychological evaluation (this type of testing begins at the very least at $1500 but probably more). Which led to a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. Read up about that. It's a heavy label. But also a necessary one. This time the label was good because.... it changes the treatment... meds for one thing. We changed some medications around. Knowledge for another thing. Knowledge is power. Knowing what's kicking your ass somehow gives you the power to control it, change it. At least this seems to be true for my child. 

I'm getting ready to get into some heavy shame. I feel my body getting flush and red and just plain heavy just thinking about it. And teary. But that isn't too surprising. 

I've been on the defensive for so long, defending my child, but defending me as well-- my position, my trauma, my hurt, my pain-- that it's damaged my processing abilities. And today I can see that my baby loves me. And sometimes I wish that wasn't true because it hurts SO BADLY to think of every way I have failed her. It is a sick, sick thing. In my fierce love and devotion to my little Punkin, I somehow got caught up in me. And my needs, and my hurts, and my emptiness. And every cry for help from her brought a knee-jerk reaction from me about how it wasn't my fault. I fought so hard to get my own feelings validated that I lost my love for my child. No wonder she nearly gave up No wonder she was so angry. No wonder she just wanted me to notice her. I don't know how to let you know that every day, every waking and sleeping moment, were about Punky in a way that caused a terrible and bitter blindness to the very thing I was fighting the world for. The life of my child. 

I metaphorically and literally abandoned my BPD child who has intense abandonment issues already. I'll just let that one sit there. As much as I want to try to enhance and add more adjectives, it's pretty descriptive and accurate all by itself. In fact.... let me repeat it. 

I metaphorically and literally abandoned my child who has a disorder that is inherently caught up with abandonment issues. 

I'm a blubbering mess right now. Trying to figure out how to continue this mess of a blog. Maybe this post needs to be finished.

I will live with this parenting fail for the rest of my life and I'll bet you I won't get cocky anytime soon about how great of a parent I was/am to my children. 

The intricate weavings of the Life of a Certain Punky

Adventures of a hippie chick mom farmer blogger writer artist..... 

So we live on this cute little place with an acre and a half (or so) to just enjoy country living. Which, by the way, is sometimes more enjoyable than others. Two nights in a row there's been a skunk that has no doubt been up close and personal with our front yard. Thankfully the dogs were inside. But when it is so gag me strong, I know he's close. Maybe even on the porch. ugh. That's the not-so-fun part. 

Here we are with circumstances, some beyond our control more than others, but circumstances they are. Hitting a parked car when your mom is broke and your insurance has lapsed. circumstance. that one was a domino. And fast forward to today and (we) are facing up to two years of no driver's license. This isn't really my story to tell. But when you live with me.... lol. Also, there's the part where we are this team and we are Hippie Chick Farm, not me, but we. So today, I am going to get into the story of Jadyn a little bit. Or Jadyn's story. Or some such matter. 

I've known for a very long time that my baby has a compromised immune system. That first croupy cough at 10 days old that sent me into an emotional tear-filled panic was just the beginning. From a three day hospital stay at two years old thanks to a bout with pneumonia to the constant/consistent aches and pains and hearing your pre-schooler say things that sounded like an 80 year old.... "oh... my knees...." To the Munchausen syndrome/hypochondriac remarks and thinly veiled accusations from Doctors and pastors and daycare providers and parents (and the list here is long....). Finally, as a 4th grader, she was tested for asthma and got a diagnosis. Why didn't anyone care enough to order this before the age of 9?! Why did advocating for my child's health get us labeled and not assisted? These are questions we will never know the answer to. But if you ask questions about why we don't get medical attention right away when some new illness develops, this is part of it. 

Migraines. Migraines were also diagnosed this same year. Chronic migraine syndrome or whatever it's officially called. Fourth grade is also when we decided to see what happened if we eliminated gluten.  This is when the depression started to show itself. With suicidal thoughts coming along in the 5th grade. 

Fast forward. 8th grade. The need for interventions for my kid were at a level that I thought (silly me) I could work this out with the school without the legal backbone of an Individual Education Plan or 504. But they were necessary and I didn't realize that I needed the law on my side to keep my kid from being bulldozed by a system that does not give a flying fuck about the success of my child. And in the grand scheme of things, that system, that doesn't give a fuck about success of students, that translates into not giving a fuck if they live or die. Because it's really that serious when your kid is in the 8th grade. This is when I knew I had to get my kid out of public school in order to save her life. And you know what? I'm grateful that someone else's kid was the casualty of that school's administration and not my kid. Because, yes, a boy in that 8th grade committed suicide that year. I'm glad I got my kid out. You can back pedal all you want school district, but I had a kid in the 8th grade, I know the crucial role that school plays in the life of these kids. All that trauma training that school send teachers to, that isn't really for the upper-middle class students from well-adjusted two parent households. It's for the kids of parents in recovery and active addiction, the kids in poverty, the kids who has one or both parents incarcerated, the ones whose family is uncertain or on the mend. And selfishly speaking, I'm just grateful that statistic was filled by someone else's precious child. Do I grieve for that family? Yes. Do I think teachers on a larger scale, from K-12, all have an obligation to see that no one's 8th grader ever feels this alone again? Yes. Do I think that parental circumstances are out of the realm of control of the schools? Yes. Is this a tragedy that an entire district should learn from? Yes. But I'm still glad it wasn't my kid. It totally could have been.

Fast forward again.... those illnesses? Yeah. They are always biting us in the butt. So once the Punky reaches a certain level of truancy, then there's pressure.... just send her to school sick. Ummmm..... okay. But I can't come get her. You can't call me to come pick her up. 

Let's just suffice it to say that she's legit sick often enough that it's a problem every single year. And that whether or not I SAY I won't/can't pick her up, I will and it will affect my job as well. Every. single. year. 

And that it's draining. Drains the finances, the hope, the physical well-being, the emotional well-being and zaps that part of you were you balance everything in life and determine that life is good and worth living through all the crap. It damages this. 

Knowing this and KNOWING this are two different things. Not getting invited back to jobs is hard. It's sad, and it hurts. Having the realization that it is impossible to be a teacher on the level I want to and need to in order to insure the tiny humans succeed, and to be there for my kid who suffers with asthma and literally every respiratory illness that makes the rounds every season, depression, unmanaged mysterious pain and brain fog and more is a tough realization. I am not superwoman even I play a super hero in my own mind. 

Stay tuned as I jump into this more this week. There is another side. There is more than just hopelessness. But let's walk through this part together first. And just know, the writing thus far has been draining and scary and delicious. All at once. I hate letting you all in. On some deeper level, I am scared of the vulnerability, but the writer in me knows that it's so cathartic and the wise soul buried within knows that by letting you all in, you gain understanding and I take away some of the power that the infamous system has over the lives of us hamsters running the wheel. 

Office Hours

 Here I sit in one of my favorite office spaces otherwise known as the front porch. And I'm thinking about things like, "why can't I just find a comfortable position for this damn leg?!" "What makes me think things will get better soon or even not-so-soon?" "Maybe if I go inside and sit at the table.... " "then I'll miss the miracle (some people called this the sunrise)...." "I love this place." "damn cats" " I hate blogging about some of this shit" "It's called staying alive sweetheart" "you know it is cathartic as hell" "but never enough..."

...but never enough.

Story of my life. 

and the beat goes on. 

What if.... (jumping tracks again).... what if, we, collective we, everyone reading this, my Circles friends and facebook friends and my family or at least my family-of-friends, what if we all shopped local and supported each other this holiday season? What if we swapped goodies and inventories and helped each other succeed?

I have some friends with bees that I'd love to swap tiedye shirts for honey. I mean, how cool would that look at your booth?! Your yellow and black shirt? Add your own graphics and boom. uniform. I'd totally trade tiedye for honey.

I don't know. Or cards. I could swap some "bee...." cards for honey. or whatever. 

Lately things are pretty weird around here.  Apparently I missed an important deadline because there are no food stamps in my near future and I should have a notice saying that there are pending benefits. This sucks big time. Receiving food stamps is what keeps us afloat. But as some of you may know already, I suck at deadlines. Like big time suck. 

Suddenly I have been awake and unmedicated too long. The thing is, getting back to a certain level of comfort is uncomfortable. So now I grit my teeth and wait for meds to kick in. And over and over my brain says, "why? why does it hurt like this? why?" Which I want to shout at my brain, "Dummy! It's because you had major surgery!" "You are the one who didn't set alarms to take meds and opted to sleep all night instead of stay ahead of the pain...." "Why even ask why?" "choose Bud Dry" which I've never drank. I don't even know if it is still a thing and I don't think it became a thing until after I quit drinking. But their marketing works! I'm betting there is only a narrow band of boomers (am I a boomer? '68), that even know what I'm talking about here.... 

Jadyn says, "yeah, but we're making it..." Are we though?! We don't know if some kind soul will be paying our Evergy bill this month. Do we? Just because we've received a few gifts and were able to buy the basics like dog food and chicken feed and cat food and a coke at Kwik Shop, that doesn't mean we are making it. But on the other side of that, it does feel less tight, less dire. Thank you friends who have purchased cards or tiedye and thank you to those who have gifted and over-tipped. It makes a difference. It really does. 

Oh, weird little side note.... ALL our ducks are in molt. I was getting 2-3 dozen duck eggs a week and now I'm 0-1 a day. Yesterday the egg I got was gorgeous. I think maybe someone coming out of molt laid it. So maybe that last hold out that was still laying went into molt now because I still only got one egg. Duck eggs I see for $4/dozen. It's not a lot, but most of my friends give me $5/dozen anyway and 2 dozen eggs = $10. $10 is not nothing. I know because I have nothing. If you do not have nothing, if you have anything, $10 is sneezeable. If you do not have anything, $10 is something you can work with. Strange how that happens. 

So we have always had a little hobby farm goal in mind and I have about a million other ideas every day for this place. But we've talked about it in earnest lately and with the whole not driving thing for the Punky, we are figuring out what we want for the future. 

So homesteaders we are. What does that change? Not a lot on the surface. It changes everything in attitude. I now have an 18 year old business partner and a fledgling start up business. So as of now, everything falls under the umbrella of Hippie Chick Farm. Hippie Chick Creations... division of HCF. Tie Dye For.... HCF. Poultry? Dogs? Cats? HCF. HCF. HCF. 

Speaking of cats... we have some (five) that need new homes. There is nothing wrong with them! They are sweet pets and good hunters. They would easily potty train since they were potty trained once as kittens. Whether you need a barn cat or a house cat, I have you covered. 

Bandit! He is sooooo handsome. 

Tiger. Also commonly called.... Tigey-wigey. lol. He is super sweet.

I'm holding Sissy. I call her "lil sis". She has a special
in my heart. 

Tiger again. Cuz.... he's Tige. 

Here Sis is helping me with my field glasses. 
She's so helpful. lol.

The animals are ALL catching moles right now. I wonder just how many moles we have?! I see 2-3 new dead ones every day. I watched Rosie eat the head off of one this morning. I guess she things she's Ozzie?! She left that gift in mouse form for Jadyn the other day in the house. Thanks, but.... 

Anyway, this farm thing. Between J and I, we think we can make things work for us. But there's so much we want/need. Trying to find the things we can go ahead and start on while we are yet THIS BROKE, is difficult. I think we're going to make some chicken tractors for grass feeding. Sounds like a valid use of the windows are have at our disposal. And a small green house. The person I got the windows from said she had visions of a spectacular greenhouse she wanted to make with them. For realz. I could build a giant greenhouse with the number of windows we have!! I got them on the cheap because, well, because this is one of those people who loves me and wants good things for me, and I think I can make something out of them that other people will want/crave/rave about. I also think there are enough windows to craft, make the greenhouse of MY dreams, and make one or two decent size chicken tractors. There were 63 of these windows, and more than half of them are big. They are oh-so-cool, let me tell you. Or actually show you. I'll show a couple projects for house that I've used them for. 

Stairwell gates. I had already made the 
lower gate, and it keeps the dogs out of the 
attics. We had an extra cat here last week,
and we attempted to gate this off completely.
They can still squeeze through, but it is a cool
contraption. The window lock rotates around
a little piece of whatnot that I put on the wall to
secure the gate shut and you can turn it from either 
side, so it is functional and old school and just
plain coolio!

Here's the close up of it. I left a glass pane 
in the middle in order to paint it up really cool,
but put chicken wire in the other 2 panes so there'd
still be adequate airflow. I used screen door hinges
and the old handle is still on the window, so
a person can just grab it and swing it shut and 
latch it when needed. 

This is called "the gate in my doorway...." 
I can't have a closed door because of airflow. Heat and AC and whatnot. And it keeps the dogs out. Or in, whichever is appropriate at the time. It does nothing for the cats who jump it like it's not even there. 
But I can keep the pretty princess in my room at night and know she's not wandering the house and still point
a fan straight at my room and get some air.

Now.... thinking about John Q. Public and these treasures. Well, I don't really know him all that well. I know my quirky side and I have to assume (pardon my arrogance) that everyone thinks the things I design are cool and there will be a demand for them. But I like them not re-painted. Not modernized. Not decor-themed. They are authentic and raw and have a story to tell. So I'm creating a wall hanging and we'll see what other people think. Or will we? lol. sometimes I don't actually know if someone likes my stuff and I don't have a lot of friends who know the compliment sandwich rule, so I maybe can't hear some things at some times. So she shrugs her shoulders and goes.... "I dunno....."

And back to HCF. We want to make this a working farm that keeps us alive and afloat. Growing, breeding, selling, planting, harvesting. And there are two dreamers here now, so nothing can stop us. Except us. and well, we can do that very well. unfortunately. Last night the reality of how seriously without resources we are overshadowed the dreamers and they succumb to fear and depression. Was it a lack of proper nutrition? Maybe. Lack of sleep? maybe. 

OOo. OOo. side note. Kid thinks we are just going to magically get this revenue to cover this somehow. But she's miserable in her bed. beds. The full size mattress was a bust. So we got out the twin sized bed. And she is super uncomfortable. She is searching for the cheapest mattresses on walmart.com and thinking I am going to magically generate $100 in some sort of sales to cover this. This is sweet and naive and dreamy all at once. But it's that thing about.... $100 is not that much. But if you have nothing.... its out there a ways. Because next card sale we rake in buys dog food and cat food and I hope we get a tip so I can actually buy both of those things..... *sigh*

The goodness of others. I don't grow tired of it. I feel like *should* be somewhere else in my ability to pay back to self-sustain, but I'm not. I know God will take care of us and I know it will come through kind hearted people, some maybe even strangers. 

And I'm back around to grateful. I am SO grateful for.... 

• the high-quality people in our lives
• the magic of miracles
• the farm-stead we live on
• the animals we lucky enough to take care of 

I'm thanking my lucky stars for you today. You readers. You who pray. You who give of your time and resources. I am blessed beyond measure. Thank you.