Monday, July 6, 2015


My life is marshmallows.
I make marshmallows.
I check the weather.
I make marshmallows.
I check the weather.

Three outdoor markets a week - and now heading to Chicago once a month for the Randolph Street Market.

I'm happy - tired - excited - tired - driven -tired - grateful - tired
and missing all of you.

I have a goal in sight, and it looks like I'm going to make it!

Do you know that sometimes I just log on here and read your old comments from a year ago?

I do.

I miss y'all - until I have time to write again you can find me here...

Have a wonderful summer!


Sunday, May 10, 2015

On Mothering

I awoke this morning in an off mood.
Nothing in particular - more tired than anything.

Two Farmer's Markets a week - the struggle is real y'all.
I'm a tired (but very happy!) girl.

I have to keep reminding myself that I'm my own boss - and I can arrange my schedule anyway I'd like to - but apparently I'm 'that' boss - and choose to work myself to a nub on a regular basis.

So this morning comes, and it's Mother's Day - I'm fraught with several emotions.
My mother is gone.
I'm not a real mother.

Or - at least that's what my brain wanted to inform my heart of  at 7:02 this morning.

So let's sort out the truth.

My mother indeed did pass away nearly 15 years ago - or 12 years ago - or?
(I think - see, this is the memory loss I told you about.  
I can't remember - I'd have to look it up to know)

But is she gone?
She is not.

Case in point - look at this photo:

She is right here, with me always.
Her smile.
Her hair.
Her love of holding livestock.
She's here.
Her generous spirit still guides me, gives me strength and hope.

And then there's that whole 'see you on the other side' kind of promise we have here that takes the whole sting out of death.

As far as my brain telling me I'm not a mother?

I am too - heck, my business is even named Mother Wilma's!

I've had the most high honor of sharing in the mothering of this young man:

And if THIS isn't mothering....

I don't know what is!

In fact, I mother everything and everyone.
Except Glenco.
Be careful not to mother your husbands ladies.

I really do hope you know you don't have to accept every thought that your brain tries to tell you.
You could live a pretty crappy life if you allow those shenanigans.

Once my heart told my brain what to think - I was in just a fine mood.
Realizing I'm blessed beyond measure, I thought I might just take a moment to think about what kind of 'mother' I really am.  

I have absolutely no expectations on Aaron today for Mother's Day.  I expect no gifts, no attention.  I want him to do what would make him happy today.  I want him to know that I think the world of him - I want him to know that I'm so danged proud of him.  I want him to know that I try not to worry about him, but instead trust that he can take care of himself, and trust his decisions - and know that I've been loving and supportive enough that he knows I'm always here for him if he needs me.

I want to be the kind of mother that is gentle with her words.  Not critical.  Always loving.  I want to plant seeds in his heart of joy, hope, love, wonder, caring, abundance and peace.  I don't ever want him to feel the obligation to call me, visit me, or spend time with me.  I want him to want to do that.  I'm over the moon that he does want that.

So, on a day that honors mothers, my heart seeks to be honorable.
I hope you seek that too.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015


Today Aaron was here for a bit, pulling some things out of storage - and this picture was one of them.  I still believe this is one of the best photos I've ever taken - it was a little point and shoot camera.  It was the best camera I ever did have.
It was a complete fluke - I just saw those corkscrew curls and captured them.


Three days from the big move.
To Chicago.
His own apartment.
Lease signing.
U-Haul renting.
Couch shopping.
Grown up stuff.

Wasn't this photo taken just last week?

I'll spare you the 'oh how time flies' schtick.

But I will tell you - these were, and remain some of the best days of my life.
The BoyChild.

Pouring my life into his.
He's been the greatest gift to me.

 This morning he got up for work - went and vacuumed his car out - came home and sewed a button on his shirt and ironed it.
I still remember the day that he came in for school and I cut all the buttons off of 
his shirt and taught him how to sew them back on.  
And iron.
And cook.

I'm so glad I've taught him all these things.
He talks about having me over for dinner now, and growing herbs on his patio.
He's 19.
I'm so proud of him, I can barely stand it.

As much as I miss these days, and look back on them with such great fondness, hope holds me prisoner as I believe that even greater days await!
I'm loving the adult relationship that we share now.

He's moving out in three days.
I'm really - really okay with it.

Friday, April 17, 2015

The Answer to Everything

Before I begin today's post, I just wanted to thank you once again for all of your kindness towards me.

I received so many lovely little notes, and I so appreciated each and everyone.

I think my greatest fear was that some of you reading would think 'oh, I know this bipolar person....' and you would think that my behavior was identical to someone else that perhaps suffered more than I did - or behaved in a way that I've never behaved.

But, I can't fix that.

But I can share with you the answer to everything.

And that answer is goats.

I had the immense pleasure of babysitting two prematurely born goats this past weekend.

My neighbor asked me if I could come up and bottle feed them a few times whilst she was out of town - and I thought it much easier if I were to just bring them home.

Was I nervous?  
You betcha! 
 I've never handled livestock with four legs and teeth.

Was Glenco nervous?
You betcha!
He fully realized that this was going to create goat fever, of which there is no cure.

I don't think words can describe the feelings I felt when I was handed a warm, lanky, needy, baby goat.
How it soothed my barren womb, my empty nest.

If I could make a video montage of my feelings - it would include images of pies cooling on windowsills, sheets drying on the line, babies smiling, the hands of a good honest working woman, the smell of roses on the breeze, fried chicken, warm biscuits from the oven, aprons, the taste of a freshly picked heirloom tomato still warm from the sun, the buzz of honey bees, the cackle of  a contented hen...I could go on....


I couldn't let it go.

However, I did let it go just long enough to go clothes shopping for them.
This is a note I tacked to the door.
The goats in house caused quite a stir - there was a revolving door of visitors.

I laughed at myself when I was in the Goodwill (half price day!  Score!) rifling through the baby clothes trying to find 'the perfect sweater' for a goat.  
Imagine my delight when I found the most darling dress for the girl goat.  

Don't think Glenco wasn't in on this too.
He picked out the following ensemble.

I may or may have not bought several outfits, and had a bit of a fashion show.

I'm utterly ruined!

Wednesday, April 8, 2015


Quote on bipolar: I have come to believe that caring for myself is not self indulgent. Caring for myself is an act of survival.

I realize that I ended quite abruptly last night.
It was late - I was tired - and writing that post drained me somewhat.
The reliving it and all.

I just wanted to 'shoe horn in' as Anne Lamott says, the following.

I'm in a very good place now.
VERY good.

I feel healed and whole - but as I said in my previous post - I live aware.  Aware that poor nutrition, lack of self care, taking any type of a pill - could easily cause me to be symptomatic again.

In the darkest days I had - I always knew there was hope.  I truly never felt alone.  
Surely, you all know how ridiculously introspective I am - and I feel that I do know myself quite well - and I just knew within my core that this was an organic problem - and there was a solution.

I knew I could be fixed.  I knew THAT wasn't me.

If the source is not on the picture, see Bipolar Bandit's blog for source of the picture quote.

If you could see the bookmarks on my computer - you'd laugh - there has to be at least a hundred of them - all related to nutrition and bipolar symptoms...

Did you know many people are diagnosed bipolar when it's really your thyroid?

Read here.

Did you know Jane Pauley was hospitalized for three weeks after taking steroids and anti-depressants (which I took for the poison ivy, and again for tendinitis) - she was in a hypomanic state - and depression followed. It's a fascinating article.

Read here.

Did you know that gluten can cause flare ups in bipolar disorder?

Read here.

I could go on but I won't.

But I will tell you this.  When I stay away from gluten and dairy - I'm as right as rain.
Food sensitivities are real.

What I hope you will take away from all of this is:

Don't stop fighting.  Find the answer.  You shouldn't have to live your life depressed, overwhelmed, confused, stressed, etc.  It's not right - it's not how you were designed to live.

You have to be relentless, you have to keep digging, and find those answers.
Don't treat symptoms.
Find the cause my friends.


Initially, it doesn't seem like it's the easy way - but honestly - in the long run - it is.

I've proven over and over again in my life that food is an issue.
Wheat and dairy - I'll say it til I'm blue in the face.

I think Glenco summed it up perfectly when he said 'This is great - you know what the answer is - it's the food!' - and then in the next breath said 'oh crap - it's the food'.

It's one of the hardest things to do - to completely change your lifestyle and eating habits.
Sometimes I have thought 'a pill is easier! Pass the bread!'

But then I remember the hell I lived through for the better part of two years.

Get your gut healthy.
95% of your serotonin is made there.
Heck, everything is made there.
This is paramount.

Be grateful.

Don't overbook yourself.

Take hot baths.

Be around people you love often.

Eat real food.
(and some marshmallows)

Sleep more.

Forgive generously.

Always look for the good in others.

Be kind to yourself.

It's really simple - we just make it hard.

Please know I am here - even though I don't blog very often - I'm here, and I read every stinking comment.  You all have been a tremendous blessing to me.  If you need to, please feel free to reach out.  I will return your email.