Stick Horse Cowgirls

To say that V and I have been challenged by life lately is an understatement.  She is totally consumed by family illness and other family distractions; I’m having trouble sleeping because of my workload.  When I come home from work at the end of a long day, my mind really wants brain candy, so I turn to “Top Chef” or any of the mindless offerings of TV (some of which I am embarrassed to admit to watching).  Let me just say that if it is “mindless” you are looking for, TV has a lot to offer. Lately, however, I have been enjoying Oprah Winfrey’s “Lifeclass” series. Oprah is splicing in some clips from her many shows, having guests and audience participation to explore what lessons we can all learn from these episodes.  Some of them are quite good.  I have actually been congratulating myself that this, at least, has some substance as opposed to some of the mind-numbing things I have been known to watch at the end of a day. Last weekend as I was doing some bedroom cleaning, I turned

  ***We learned this morning since I wrote this post last night that my daughter has a blood clot in her arm. Please pray for it to resolve safely. For those of you who drop in here from time to time, you may know that my oldest daughter has been ill for some time.  She suffers from serious chronic health problems and recently discovered she is pregnant.  YES, it was a surprise!!!  Because of her health issues, it was not the plan, and she is in the hospital again—this time  because of a serious blood infection she contracted from her IV port.  I have left my job for the time being to care for her children.  All of your prayers are appreciated very much!  I have some important decisions to make in the near future.  I’ve felt the need to keep working for financial security (like being able to have  health insurance and not  be a financial burden to my children in my retirement years)—Hubby is also reluctant for me to give it up.  If I leave my job (of which there are scarce few in

This is just the time for V and me to feel harried, I guess.  Her last post was about the same theme as this one: too much to do! I’ve been blessed with company over the past couple of weeks, and my business is so hectic that I have been feeling like the old woman who lived in the shoe with so many kids tugging on her all the time. I am beginning to liken myself to this: Ys, Yes, my job is like herding cats.  For one thing, there are never enough hours in the day.  For another, my clients have lately been tending to veer out of the herd on their own—not safe—and have to be “rounded up,” back under control.  It just seems like craziness is more rampant lately. I guess this is either good or bad, depending on your point of view: good for my business but bad for those folks who need a divorce lawyer! Even V and I have not had time to get together, and I miss it.  Hoping to rectify that soon and being able to post more frequently. Happy tails, er, I mean “Happy Trails!”  C.

  Sometimes life just gets in the way of what I want to do.  Like post here more often!  Everything’s been so crazy lately that I find very little time to even visit the blogging neighborhood anymore, which I’ve discovered is a major way I chill and relax! Years ago “C” gave me a little book about the Tyranny of the Urgent.  I need to reread it!  Seriously, it would make a great post—when I have time of course!  Sometimes we get so caught up in the “urgent”, we lose sight of the “important”—or what we are called to do.  Believe it or not every worthy endeavor though it is fine in and of itself,  may NOT be what “we”  or “I” am called to do.  It gives me pause to consider when my family needs me so much and my energies are so divided due a job I think I need financially.   Just being honest here!   *** UPDATE :  Eldest daughter has been hospitalized for a few days.  Your prayers would be much appreciated. Eldest daughter is ill  and I can’t go into detail now—She has chronic condit

My last post about domestic violence was a report—passing on information I learned in a recent class and some of my observations from my law practice.  But in the course of discussing that post with V, she jolted me into a realization that this subject had touched my life and is, perhaps, touching it still. As most of you know, V and I have been friends for 57 years (oh, Lordy!), and we lived right next door to each other as children.  I moved away when I was about 8, although our parents had the great, good foresight to be certain we saw each other frequently (this friendship has been a life-saver for me in these later years).  As some of you also know, I grew up with a brilliant but alcoholic and womanizing lawyer father.  I loved him very much and miss him even now, but he was a mess, and he brought that mess down on his wife and children.  He would often come home very late at night, reeking of alcohol, women would call our home…you get the picture.  My brother and I grew up

If you’ve followed this blog long, you know that I cannot help but offer social commentary. I’ve spent the last two days in continuing education.  One of our speakers was on domestic violence.  I am somewhat an expert from decades of helping women escape and trying to convince them that they should escape.  It is such a problem in our society that I think it is helpful to review the statistics.  They shock even me.  Just look at these statistics for the US: According to the U.S. Surgeon General, domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women in the United States. 95% of the victims of domestic violence are women. 35% of all emergency room calls are a result of domestic violence.  It is the largest single reason for ER visits by women. Of those who abuse their partner, well over 65% also physically and/or sexually abuse the children. EVERY day .....4 women and 3 children in the US die as a result of domestic abuse. 

One of the perks of being a blogger is having an outlet to vent about one’s pet peeves in hopes there is an audience.  Better than screaming to yourself.  Combine that with a day on the lawn tractor, which leads to even more over-thinking than usual, and you have a full blown rant on your hands. The other day a friend, speaking of the father of her child, said, “ Jo-Jo just does not change dirty diapers.  He doesn’t like wet ones, either, but he absolutely refuses to change the dirty ones.  It makes him retch ”  Oh, my.  This kind of thing just sends me into orbit, for it is a sign of something deeper—an infantile man.  And a bully.  Let me explain. Jo-Jo happens to be a great outdoorsman.  He would stand over a deer he had just shot and watch the last lights of life ebb away.  He would then string up the still-warm body, slit it open, allowing the guts to spill out, and lasciviously grin at his triumph. But he claims to have too-weak a stomach to perform some basic act of nur

Fifteen or so years ago my husband and I ran a boarding stable for horses.  This was to defray the expense of our horse habit—not sure it defrayed any costs, really, but it did provide us with lots of horse-nut friends.  We had “real jobs,” so our stable was a you-care-for-your-own-horse facility.  This meant that most everyone was out there every day; that, of course, meant that we all became fast friends. This picture i s similar to our barn.  It was specifically a horse barn with 28 stalls.  It was old but serviceable and time-tested.  I loved walking through, seeing our contented equines with their heads poked over their stall doors. Part of our barn family was the cat population.  Through the middle of the barn was a raised (not quite a “loft”) concrete-floor where hay was stored.  From this section we could throw hay down into the hay racks of two rows of stalls.  This huge hay expanse made a great kitty heaven, and we sure did not mind the fact that the mouse population was

Yes, every once in a while God does something that stands out in the midst of the mundane world… I’m probably the last person on this planet to know about her, but I was flipping channels last weekend and happened upon a clip of this child on a PBS fundraiser.  I had never heard of her, but sat in total disbelief—slack-jawed, really.  Look at this video—hang in there through the America’s Got Talent promo stuff—you won’t regret it: Jackie Evancho.  She is ten years old. TEN YEARS OLD !  I did a little Googling on her and found some interviews.  What poise! The story goes that two years ago—you, know, back when she was 8?—her mother took her to see The Phantom of the Opera .  She was enchanted with the music, got the soundtrack and began singing around the house.  Mom thought she sounded pretty good.  Ya think? I guess the rest is gonna be history. Jackie says that she does not perform any special rituals before each performance—only to thank God each time for her gift and ask t

Well, after two years of nursing my hurt feelings over the divorce, Son has decided to take a job two and a half hours north.  It is a good opportunity for him to combine work with his passion for outdoor skills.  Much as I know it is time for him to go (and he has been good to stay as long as he has), I will miss him.  He has seen me back on my emotional feet, good son that he is.  I am thankful that he’s not out of reach, at least. My mother is worried sick.  My mother’s job in this family, however, is to worry—especially about her grandkids.  My sister and I think she’s adopted “worrier” as her identity.    She has called me with all kinds of “what ifs.”  I reminded her that not too many years ago, young men (at what? 18 or 19 years of age?) would kiss their mother’s on the cheek, saying, “ I’m off to seek my fortune” and go off into the sunset, their belongings tied in a rag on a stick. At least it’s not that bad…at least we have cell phones and internet now.  I don’t know

I’ve written before about how I believe our animals know more about us and have more cognitive ability than we like to think. My remaining dog is a three-year-old Belgian Malinois, “Chili.”  My other pet is “Sasha,” my cat who predates Chili in this household by a couple of years. Sasha is one skittish cat.  She was born here and has never been mistreated at day in her life, but my mother and I are the only humans she wants anything to do with—making occasional exceptions for Son. Sasha has lived her entire life on my back porch and in our fenced back yard.  She has her own little kingdom back there, shared with birds, who take their lives into their own wings by being there, and a raccoon who peaceably comes to her dish to share her cat food.  She makes occasional forays outside the back yard fence, but only few.  It is to this that we attribute her long life. I have never been able to get Chili to quit thinking of Sasha as prey.  I have come to terms with the fact that he  i