Layin' Down the 'Law' - Follow Your Peace

A few of you dear readers have commented on my frequent use of 'law' and wondered about it's origins.

Well.

My mom used it all the time, and her sisters too.

Her sisters used 'they law'

I remember my mom using 'aye law' - perhaps it was her northern adaptation of it. She never completely lost her southern accent.

'Aye law - I'll not go' she'd say when she was frustrated waiting on my dad to take her places.

'Aye law - I can't have anything' - that's the one I heard ALL the time. When we as kids would break a knick knack, or when things just didn't go as she'd wished.

I've been saying 'Aye law, I can't have anything' for years. Even some of my friends have picked it up from me.

Enter the book 'The Help' referred to me from Flower Patch Farmgirl.

There's no turning back.

Everything, and I do mean everything is law.

You are gonna have to stick with me until I run it into the ground - it could take a while.

I'm sure Dolly uses it.

I love Dolly.

I wish I could spend a day with her.

OK - here's the long awaited (?) post on The Change.

Oh - speaking of The Change - I've not had another 'flash' yet. How I loved your comments, and I'm almost happy to be in this club with y'all - in fact, I feel like I'm in great company.

You have no idea of the inner turmoil I've had over this - no idea.

I almost don't know where to begin, so let me just say that the forecast of this post is 'wordy with a chance of drivel.'

OK - The two main components of my life that I feel that I need to change are:

M'weight.

M'anxiety.

Perhaps the two are intertwined in some way, as I feel that food soothes me.

I've had a weight problem for some of my childhood and most of my adult life.

If you are reading this, and you've had/have a weight problem, I know you can understand my feelings.

Today we were at a Gladiolus Festival in Momence, Illinois.

It was 91 degrees out.

I had on three quarter sleeves and jeans.

Most of my thought life is about my weight and how I want it changed.

For all of you naturally thin people - I'm sure you think - well, why don't you go on a diet and do something about it then?

Ya think? Seems rather logical.

All I can say, until you've walked in our broken down shoes, don't judge.

I don't judge the smoker, the alcoholic or the drug addict.

I understand.

When I was 12 I began cutting pictures of pretty, thin women out of the Sears Catalog and putting them on the fridge, beating myself up when I'd overeat.

I've successfully lost weight in the past, many a time.

9 out of 10 people gain the weight back.

*raises hand*

So did I.

I've beat myself up. I've talked horrible about myself. I've shamed myself.

At one time I weighed nearly 300 lbs.

I've successfully kept off 60lbs for over ten years.

I'm still obese.

A few months ago, I had a dream in which I saw a dinner plate, stuck vertically in the ground like a headstone, and it had RIP on it, and there were a knife and fork sticking in the ground on it's sides, flanking it, like urns.

Since that dream, I've been searching my soul for answers.

I couldn't find any.

Every stinkin' time I would decide to 'go on an eating plan' I would become depressed. I would become overwhelmed. I felt like it was so monumental. Now I've lost 90# and 80# on two separate occasions. I only need to lose about 60#'s now - piece of cake. Pun intended.

Making the bed I cry out to God.

'Help me - show me - guide me'.

Then I would turn to logic and think - geez Jaym, get a grip. Eat less, move more - end of story, stop thinking this thing in the ground.

Then I'd eat egg whites (throwing my beautiful golden yolks in the garbage) for breakfast and feel like life wasn't worth living. (I know, I'm dramatic, you should know that by now)

Then I would be preoccupied all day with what I should eat, what I couldn't eat.

I lost ALL desire to cook.

Every little bit of desire. Poof.

I sat in indecision for two months.

I went to the library and got a ton of books.

"I'm gonna do South Beach'

"I'm gonna do what Suzanne Somers says.

I joined Weight Watchers.

I knew I was in trouble when the first thing I looked up in the book was bacon.

Honest to God.

3 strips = 4 points.

A still small voice said,

"Follow your peace"

I thought.

And thought.

What brought me peace?

Did the thought of counting calories, carbs and protein grams bring me peace?

Did the thought of eating grilled chicken and steamed vegetables bring me peace?

I liked the feeling of control - of being in charge - I can fix this - I can do this - can't I?

No.

It caused inner turmoil.

Then I thought that inner turmoil was because I was a food junkie, and you were messing with my stash of junk and I was just getting itchy.

So there I sat again with my familiar friend - indecision.

I'm not trying to be a fitness model, or a body builder or an athlete.

I'm trying to get this weight off of me for my emotional and physical health.

I'm trying to be the best me.

I know Mexico is South, but I'm not sure exactly how to get there - but at least I could start out by heading South. I could get directions along the way.

If I keep doing the same thing over and over - the thing that didn't work long term - it seems crazy.

This is what I'm doing.

I'm cutting my food in half.

Plain.

Simple.

A start.

There is no food off limit to me.

If I'm hungry - I'll eat - but half of what I would normally.

Half a sandwich.

Half a chicken breast.

2 strips of bacon instead of 10.

When I think of this, I have peace.

I'm going to exercise solely for the fact that I feel better when I do.

I want to get flexible again.

I want to ride my bike, and take walks.

It seems so simple and against everything 'out there' that I feel scared - but I feel peace.

There's a part of me screaming - what about the charts? What about the calories?

I have more peace with this decision, than I did with a traditional 1200 calorie 'plan', so I'm following my peace.

I will be updating you on my weight loss, and I will be talking about this more.

If you do leave a comment on this post - could you please tell me if you are interested in this topic at all? I won't talk about it alot - perhaps once a week or so - letting you know how it's going - the challenges I'm facing.

I remember telling one of my friends, that if I didn't beat this weight loss thing once and for all by the time I was 50, I was giving up.

I was gonna get a short gray perm, start smoking, get acrylic nail tips and wear pink sweatshirts with pictures of kittens and yarn balls.

I gots 16 months y'alls.

I'm weary of the fight.

I'm scared.

I feel very vulnerable putting this on the blog.

But - I have peace.

I know I didn't verbalize all of this the way I wanted to, but I just needed to get it out there.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for being here. I appreciate y'all so very, very much.

Another Change

This is one I really wasn't planning on.

This change has been toying with me. It's been rearing it's head a little - with the trouble sleeping, the fatigue....

But - last night - oh last night -

I woke up wondering why in the sam hill Glenco turned the furnace on.

By the time I was fully awake, I realized what was happening.

Sheets flying, nightgown ripping.

Law.

I was having a hot flash. Or a night sweat.

Or I died and went to hell.

Or Glenco indeed had the furnace on.

I feel like I've survived an initiation into a new club.

A club of women that talk about hot flashes.

And dry places.

And thinning hair and mood swings.

I promise to limit my menopause drivel.

Tomorrow I'll be talking about the change I want to make.

The big reveal, if you would.

I'll be sharing my 'plan'.

Until then - you'll find me in the fridge.

The Bitter Truth of it All

Lord have mercy, was yesterday's post a downer or what?

We German's aren't all smiles and sunshine, I'ze just got to share what's on my heart.

Seems that since the Garden Walk has been over, I've wandered around aimlessly, no direction, no passion, no motivation, no 'uumph'.

I'm not used to feeling that way.

Your comments were priceless to me.

Priceless!

So much cheaper than a psychiatrist.

Seriously, a few of you hit it right on the button.

Thank you.

I knew I was getting better when I went to bed last night.

It was hard to fall asleep.

I kept thinking of how to enlarge the vegetable patch to plant more pumpkins and sunflowers.

I woke up this morning lamenting over the fact that I'd have to stitch and sew all year long if I were to get everything done I wanted to do.

I wanted more bee hives.

I want to re-do the office.

I feel that I've floundered around, not really knowing what exactly to immerse myself in.

I'ze gotta be immersed.

So I decided that until I get a good direction, I would just do what I needed to do, and to do it with gusto.

My day started at 4am.

By 8am the laundry was on the line (hope it dries by Saturday), the house was clean, the kitchen deep cleaned, all containers fertilized and watered, 'Section B' of the yard deadheaded and weeded, animals tended, dinner planned and a nice big portion of the lawn was mowed, by me, and the push reel mower.

It felt good to do yard work again.

Sometimes the answer to things is right up under your nose.

Hands to work, hearts to God.

I then went off to the Poultry Auction, looking for a mate for Maude.

'Twernt no single male mallards.

I ALMOST came home with another box of banties.

I'm a bit addicted to them.

They are perfect in every way.

I really do need a few more banty hens. Really.

From there, went off to the Lake County Fair where I'm volunteering time in the Northwest Indiana Beekeeper booth.

Aaron took this photo at the Fair today.

It was Senior Citizen Day.

This photo is priceless to me.

Aaron has won a ribbon at the fair for one of his pictures!

I'm super proud of that guy.

I came home and made a simple meal.

Salad and a zucchini casserole.

This cookbook from the library is wonderful.

It reminded me of the simple things that I love.

After supper whilst I waited for the brain candy called 'Bachelor Pad' to come on the Tee Vee, I perused my latest issue of 'Woman's Day'. It happens to be from 1932, but it is my latest issue.

Seems that I got them there Fatigue Poisons.

'Splains alot.

I have realized the bitter truth of it all.

As I prepare to bed down here in Indiana, I feel happy.

I feel hopeful, joyful, grateful.

Just full. Of it. Ha! (Thanks Deborah)

Life needs to watch out.

There's no keeping a good woman down.

Dark and Twisty - Lessons from a Bird

Fifi LeFew.

Neurotic French chain smoking chicken.

One of two survivors from The Great Raccoon Attack of 2009.

Still suffering from Post Traumatic Syndrome.

Calmed by the hormones of hankerin' for babies.

She's been broody.

Sitting.

Persistent.

Unshakable.

Crazy.

25 days.

Yesterday I had the sad task of giving her the news.

"Ain't gone be no babies Miss Fifi."

She's still sitting.

Relentless.

Aching for motherhood.

I'm thinking of shaping ice into the shape of an egg and let her sit on that.

Might cure what ails her.

Might cure what ails me.

It's hard to see her want something so badly, and she can't have it.

At least for now.

I've tried telling her in God's time it will happen.

I candled all of her eggs yesterday.

She was trying to sit on 11.

I really had no idea what I was doing, as I've never done it before.

I was in the bathroom, shades drawn, lights out.

iPod touch in one hand Googling 'candling eggs',

reading lamp and cardboard in the other hand.

I felt a tremendous responsibility to 'read' these eggs right.

Life or death, baby.

In my hands.

As the light flooded the eggs, they were transparent.

It didn't appear that anything was 'growing' in them.

My heart broke for Fifi.

I thought about this a lot yesterday afternoon.

My prayer lately has been that I would be transparent.

That if a light was placed on my heart, that it would shine through.

There would be no 'spots' of bitterness, anger, unforgiveness, or other infections of the soul.

Then I began to think of it on the other side of the coin.

An empty egg.

Nothing growing on the inside.

I so hope that I'm not that.

I know I've let many a dream die.

I didn't sit on them long enough.

I wasn't persistent enough.

I've felt a bit dark and twisty the last couple of days.

I know this 'Change' that is taking place is really starting to take hold of my heart.

Sometimes it's not comfortable.

It's hard to let go of control.

It's hard.

For the fleeting moments I have let go, it's bliss.

Right now I'm living in the bliss bits between the hard parts.

Like a partly cloudy day.

Miss Fifi will hatch a batch, of that I'm sure.

I will be a 'good egg' and hatch dreams and schemes, all the while being transparent.

Of that I'm sure.

This is a Chicken Blog

It's a stormy, humid, hot, muggy August day here in NW Indiana. If that ain't bloggin' weather, I don't know what is.

The remnants of laundry day still hang on the line. Since Monday.

It's been so muggy, then rainy - at this point - I'm not taking them down - they are stayin' til they dry naturally. I can only imagine what the neighbors think.

Can I just tell you how much I treasure each of you? You guys had me in stitches all week with your comments. Seriously. Oh my. Let's all go camping together, in August. What a tale we'd have to tell.

Sorry to leave you 'hangin' about 'The Change'. I had no intention of so much time going by.

Ize been bizzy.

The change is at the end of this post - and God bless you if you read the whole thing.

I think there about 30 pictures with this post, and endless drivel to boot.

Refill your glasses, order dinner in. It's gone be a while.

It's come to my attention today that this is a Chicken Blog.

So I'm going to start by talking about ducks.

SO much has gone on around here that I haven't taken the time to tell you about.

Remember Claude and Maude?

Claude is no longer with us.

He was run over.

Please, tell me how a duck gets run over?

Maude and Claude were inseparable. I loved having mallard ducks that came and went as they pleased about the yard. Maude was quite friendly, but Claude, he was always a little standoffish. I think he remembered how much I squeezed him as a duckling.

Maude was no where to be found after Claude was hit.

Almost two weeks went by.

I grieved them both.

Then - one wonderful day - Maude was back!

But she wasn't the Maude I knew before.

I'm serious when I say - this duck was depressed.

I've never seen anything like it.

She wouldn't fly. She'd barely quack. She limped a little.

She's snapped out of it a little now.

She's taken to me as her mate.

Oh how I love that duck.

She's my pal.

A widowed duck, is there anything sadder?

Poor sweet Maude. She comes to the back door now and quacks loudly, like she's telling me she's going away for the day. She flies off, and then comes home for supper.

All of the chickens are just fine and dandy - well, except for two.

Scarlett has bumblefoot. I can barely look at it. It's just a big lump on her foot. It looks so tender. I've treated it the best I know how, but it's not getting better, or worse.

Stubs has/had an impacted crop. The goofball started eating straw. The things I've done to that bird to get her to empty her crop. Have you ever tried to make a hen throw up? How did I become this person? I used to wear makeup and paint my nails. I used to have a skin care regime. Now I put antibiotic cream on chicken claws and try to make hens regurgitate.

I was really worried about Stubs. I tried everything, and then got all Benny Hinn up on that bird. She's doing much better now - not sure that she's out of the woods, but it's been three weeks now, and she's eating, pooping, and being a regular chicken.

Little Phyllis hatched out a couple of adopted chickens. I know who the daddy be, but I don't know who the mommy.

I'm letting her free range about the yard with the babies. It's beyond cute. Letting nature take it's course, and letting her teach them how to be chickens.

The bantys are growing so fast. I adore them. They are so compact and perfect in every way.

Fifi is on the nest - and I'm not sure what's going on. I didn't take a picture of her - but that bird is a mess. She's burning up, no feathers on her belly, and has a wild look in her eyes. Either I've done the math wrong, or those eggs aren't hatching. She's sitting on eight. She's been SO faithful to set, that I'd have a hard time believing nothing will hatch. I check about 10 times a day. I want to clean her, wash the eggs, and replace them neatly in order.

I have a feeling that's not a good idea.

I've had the immense pleasure of meeting this gal.

Cheryl.

She reads the blog, and we started emailing back and forth - and then I met her.

She's only two towns over.

She served me pickled asparagus.

I won't ever forget it.

She has no idea how she healed my soul that night.

Her gift of hospitality comes so natural to her, that she doesn't even realize how awesome she is at it.

This past weekend, I had my first overnight guest at the Squirrel Inn.

Cindy, from Cottage Instincts.

I'll be doing a whole post about this girl, and the one above, but for now, just the highlights.

If you don't read her blogs, ya oughta. She puts a lot of time and effort into them. Yes. Them.

Looky what she brought me.

We yakked so incessantly that I ended up having to take her to the Tastee Top for supper. It was 6pm before we knew it, and we was mighty hungry.

I think it's a tradition.

The Tastee Top is where I take blog friends.

I suppose this is a tradition as well. Goofy hand gestures.

If you meet me, you'd better be prepared for them.

Haven't talked much about the boy, but he's fine and dandy.

Just took four of his photos and entered them into the Lake County Fair.

Ize so proud.

School will start sooner than I want to admit.

Homeschooling highschool.

Whoulda thunk it?

Since the Garden Walk, I've just been trying to rest, and reconnect with friends.

Never before has it been this clear, that I need this as much as I need air.

A little road trip to Crete, Illinois.

Donna and Bert.

Don't get no betta.

This shop charmed my socks off.

This lady - she spoke with a REAL accent - and she was sittin' and making things for the store.

Loved it.

This dress made me hurt I wanted it so much.

Too small.

Even if it were my size - imagine me in it?

Oy.

It could bring on a seizure in some people.

Been to a few Farmer's Markets.

All in all - happy, busy. Busy, happy.

Tired.

Hot.

Busy. Happy.

The garden looks sad to me.

So many things past their prime already.

Sadness.

BUT, the pumpkins are ridiculous.

Growing like weeds.

Ok - you've gotten to the part of the post that is about 'The Change'.

It's not winemaking - although that's on the list.

It's about changing.

Inside.

and.

Outside.

I'm starting to feel like an old lady.

It's just a matter of time before I'm caught in a photo like these:

This picture was taken on a 95 degree day. Mmmhmmm.

This really needs to be a separate post. All to itself, but I feared if I did that, I'd never get to tell you about all the fun things I've been up to, or I'd never tell you about the change - and well - it's just a big ole blog mess.

I'm not a good blogger.

I'm a messy, confused, haphazard blogger.

These are a few things I must change if I am going to be happy.

Happy - content - 'ok' - choose your adjective.

My attitude.

I'm a little high-strung - just incase you hadn't noticed.

I need to have a mentally relaxed attitude.

I need to learn to let go.

Aaron is growing up.

It's freaking me out.

I can't control it.

I will delve more into this.

My weight MUST change.

These pictures were taken in 2004/05.

Please, if you can think of any other way I could embarrass myself more, please email me. I am looking for new ways.

See that look on my face? That was my happiness. It wasn't so much about my waist size as it was me knowing that I was being the best me I could be. Inside. Choices. Attitudes.

I just know if I can change this:

To this:

I can change my body again.

I can change my mind again.

I can change.

I have wrestled with myself to the point of exhaustion.

I'm carrying too much weight - physically and mentally.

I've had a couple of odd dreams that I'll hopefully share with you tomorrow or the next day.

It's time to change.

There will be much drivel ahead.

I hope you will join me.

I hope you will.

Law, A Change is a Comin'

Just back in from a little camping trip to the Warren Dunes in Michigan. It's only about an hour and fifteen minutes from here, and it's fabulous. If you ever get a chance, you should go. Thanks Shannan for Guest Posting! I had hoped to have a blog post up before I left, but I did some serious crashing and burning after the Garden Walk. I didn't realize I was so tired.

This was a solo flying Squirrel mission, as Glenco stayed home to work and tend the feathered things. I took Aaron and one of his friends.

I've never pulled the camper myself before, and law, I was a bit nervous. I think there are still hand prints in the steering wheel. Let me correct that, I've pulled it before, but never set it up, and hooked it back up and drove it home alone before. My sitting here typing the tale tells you that I did make it-without any incident. The camper wasn't all that level - which made sleeping a little interesting - but all in all - success. You do realize what this means now? I'm a free bird baby - and I'll be coming to your neck o' the woods soon! The 2011 Coop Keeper Tour is in progress. At least I wish it were - how fun could that be?

Did I take ONE SINGLE solitary photo of this trip? Nope. In fact, the last pictures on the camera are the ones that I took of the hitch ball - what it's supposed to look like when properly hitched. All the photos you see here are from the Michigan Tourist Website.

I'm not sure that I'll ever camp again in July. It. Was. Hot. Thankfully, we had Lake Michigan to cool off in. I have a confession - I can't keep this charade up any longer.

I don't like camping.

Law, the truth has set me free!

I like it in the fall - but there are still things that bother me about it. I shall list them, you shall shake your head, and then you will probably pray for me - cause that's about all that can cure this kind of crazy that afflicted me.

It's messy.

I'm not talking about my campsite - and yes, that gets messy too and it makes me insane.

I mean other people's campsites.

As I drive around I think - really - can't you just turn that tent a little and neaten things up? Do you really need all that stuff sitting out on your picnic table? Why are your towels hung on the line in such a haphazard fashion? Why is there so much dirt? Can't you line those bikes up in order? Why is it so hot? Who's idea was this anyway?

These are the things I think as I drive to the bathroom at 1 am. Oh, it doesn't matter the time - I don't sleep when I camp. In fact, it's been three days since I've slept for more than 15 minutes at a time. Nor do I have a bowel movement. It just plum seals up on me whenever I leave the county. Been like that for years. I get mighty bloated. When I came home Glenco told me I looked like the end of the world.

Every morning the kids would tell me how I hovered over their beds checking on them over and over, and touching their faces and murmering 'ok'. How scary is that? I must have been doing that in the 15 minute sleep intervals cause I just vaguely remember doing it. And then there's the whole serial killer fear that is buried deep in my brain when I camp. I lie awake at night planning my escape from the 6' x 8' camper. It's not pretty. No one makes it out alive. I fear turning over and seeing a face at the window. "Was that a car door? Is someone stealing the Jeep? Did I leave the keys in it?" I'm really tormented. I bet you are laughing now, aren't you? Shame - shame on you.

The first full day that we were there was wonderful. It wasn't too terribly hot and we spent the majority of the day on the beach. The kids played in the water alllll the ding dong day, and I sat under a big tree on my lounge chair and devoured 'The Help' by Kathryn Stockett. Read the whole thing in one day. Close to 500 pages. It's a wonderful book! (and it's also the reason I really wish I could cook like Southern black woman, and talk like one - I'm sorry - I know it's wrong - but I sure do wish it awful hard.) I'm just now delving into the world of fiction - I usually never read anything unless it told me how to build it, fix it, grow it, cook it, decorate it, clean it, or hatch it - so this is new to me. Reading for pure pleasure, reading for an escape - I'm loving it. As I lie in my vintage webbed lounge chair, I felt like the happiest gal in the world. "I oughta do this more often. Why don't I do this more often? I should make some noodle salad and sandwiches and go the beach every week. Yep, that's what I'm gonna do." Even my sweat seems to be filled with hope and joy.

The second day - with my book all read up, I didn't quite know what to do with myself. This is not a good situation. I don't do well in these situations. My hands - my brain - they need something. We are back on the beach now - this time - it's just plum hot. I'm under my tree again - but this time I've nothing to do. I remember that I brought my knitting, and thought I'd slap out a few more dishcloths. Just holding the yarn was horribly uncomfortable. I didn't see anyone else knitting on the beach. I'm starting to think it's not a good idea. But get this - I got my needles out and my yarn, and I couldn't remember how to do it. I sat there, like I'd never held knitting needles in my hand before. I felt scared. I fiddled. Nope, I can't remember how to cast on. I put it away. I have dementia. I'm sure of it. That's why I tell Aaron the same story over and over, and that's why I keep forgetting things. Oh Lord. I tell Aaron that I'm afraid I won't remember him in 20 years, and if I don't, I'm sorry. I pick up the needles again. Nothing. More worry. I need to start taking Omega 3's. I should start playing Sudoku. My brain is dying. I have cancer. Alzheimer's. I let another hour go - I pick up the needles again. Things fell into place, and I remembered. I got 35 stitches cast on and I put it all away, it's too hot to knit on the beach.

Sheesh.

So for the rest of the camping trip, I'm left with my own compulsive, dark, crazy thoughts. "I should talk to people about cleaning up their campsites. Maybe instead of goats, I should get sheep. I think I will be cremated. I should start an heirloom tomato business. I should quit blogging. I should start a new blog. I want to go to Oregon. Why don't I ever go anywhere fun?I'm missing out on so much of life. I need to remember to dig up the dahlias this year. Why in the world is my hair so blonde and short? My house windows are filthy. I can't believe I'm missing MadMen."

My friends - I'm home now. And there is a change comin'. I can feel it in me bones. A good change - a big change. I'm just not happy unless I've got some shenanigans up my sleeve. I need a good caper to keep me going. I've rested up from the Garden Walk. In fact, I've barely lifted my finger in the garden for three weeks. I've slept in, read four novels, drank wine, spent time with friends, and now - it's time. It's time for something else to put me up against the wall - to stretch me - to change me.

Wanna know what it is?