Back to the grind...

I haven't written since March, which is interesting, and does nothing but prove me to be delinquent and/or boring when it comes to my blog posts. Since March we have 1) Sold our Goats 2) Bought ducks, had them reproduce and then sold the offspring as well as the parents 3) Shipped the chickens off to live with my MIL and 4) added three small dogs to the family.

Not all the surprising, I suppose.

I have been working some on my latest book, but I don't get that much time to myself. Kasen, now almost a year old, can crawl super-fast and is very clingy. He had ear tubes put in in June and now is doing early talking. He also loves music and dancing and will dance anytime he hears anything that might remotely resemble music-- like Mommy chanting "Noah put your clothes on." Over and over again.

Summer just isn't my thing. It's hot and miserable and usually includes, for me, and did this year, insomnia and other health issues getting worse. So, I like to pretend I can skip summer and get to the good stuff...

Which is the fact that my boys are ALL having birthdays soon! It's crazy!

And Kevin is back in school, which I HATE HATE HATE. Grrrrr. I'd rather have him at home with me anytime. Plus, I just can't seem to get into the groove of getting stuff done when I have to force the Nudist to get dressed and usually wake Kasen up from a nap purely to go stand in the heat and have his teacher be 20 minutes late out of school again. Oh, well, at least it doesn't bother him.

I'm getting started on Shaklee again. I'm going to spruce up our income and feel a little more independent, or a little less dependent at least. I'm very excited about some of the new products (chew vitamins for learning for kids for example) and the reinstatement of the car program. We could really use access to a car that doesn't break down for kicks.

The Hubby is still in the process of getting a job. Still. A year later. Blah blah blah.

I just figured out what I hate about blogging. If I wrote about anything real then I would be a HORRIBLE PERSON. So I end up talking about fluff. Poofy boring fluff. Because I'm not stupid enough to air my dirty laundry ;)

Pic of the Day

Homesteading

The garden is up and growing. I, despite a bad spill this morning, got a solid pint of milk from Sugar.

Got three eggs this morning-- one duck and two polish chicken.

I am really happy right now. I have my homestead!

Hahaha! I AM Trouble!

That's what Kevin told me-- I am. apparently, trouble, but he likes it ;)

Now I know how hard it is not to cry over spilt milk. I got about a quart out of Sugar this morning and she kicked over the bucket.

Race is everything

I was in a situation recently, where the statement was made 'race is irrelevant'. In the conversation, that was the case, however, the whole idea has been bugging me.

Race is everything. Family history-- where we all come from-- that's everything!

Because my husband's great grandparents came from Germany and refused to speak German, though their English was poor, and would beat their daughter for speaking German, and she, in turn, went into an abusive relationship, where she allowed her husband to browbeat her children physically and emotionally. Which led to my MIL (whom I love dearly) to be overly harsh to her children-- which led to my husband being afraid to cross anyone...

I am not creating blame or excuses or any of that-- I'm just telling the story. Who we are is completely based on where we came from. The values we learn, even to how much attention we crave... those of us whole love books, those who love spotlights-- it all comes from somewhere.

We are what we came from.

Race is everything. My Irish ancestors struggled and came to start a new life here. My Dutch ancestors carved a home for themselves here. I cannot pretend that they never existed-- I must know them to know myself.

My scandalous multi-great Scott ancestor-- I am like him. By learning about him I know where I get my scheming clever ways of dealing with things.

It's wrong to separate the child from the parent. We need to know. Why did my ggg-whatever grandfather come from Ireland? Because his family was shipped to Australia and he was being drafted into a constabulary against his own people. I saw the draft notice. He left a month later. Why were they sent to Australia? Because they were starving and his father stole a cow to feed his 12 children.

Keith's gg-grandmother's sister was 13 when they came to America from England. Her parents placed her in a boarding house full of young men and lived off of her wages without working themselves. She disappeared from the censuses before the sister was even half-grown.

These are real people and we cannot turn away from their stories.

I am a product of my history. I am their child.