Tag: life

dare to be different

52 pickup

2chicksandapen

When I was a kid, I was one of those gullible types. (Ok, I still am, but that’s a different post). My older brothers enjoyed playing tricks on me. “Wanna play cards?” Of course, as the youngest, I always wanted to be invited to play by the older kids.

“Sure!” I replied.

“How about 52 pickup?”

“How do you play?”

Suddenly the whole deck of cards was thrown in the air. Jacks, deuces, aces all fluttering to the ground. “Thats 52 cards, now pick them up!” they’d say, laughing as they walked away.

And with a frown like a sad clown, I did.

Fast forward to adulting. Life is full of chores, duties, commitments. Most days are full of them.

For me, chores tend to become routines.

Grocery shopping Saturday. Meal prep Sunday morning. Cleaning Sunday afternoon.

Even little things have their routines. Every night when I get home I set up the coffee pot for the next day and either set out my gym / work clothes or pack my gym bag before I settle down.

Sometimes it’s almost like a challenge: Laundry goes in first thing when I get home from work on Friday. The challenge? I have to have all my clothes hung to dry by the time I leave for my gym class on Saturday morning. I have to stay alert to get this one done while I’m tired.

Edit the week’s blog posts on Sunday afternoon / evening so “publish” is all that’s left during a busy week.

At times, even my fitness routines become a part of it. 5:30 am CrossFit basically every day for a year. Before that it was working out after work. For a while it was run a 5k after work every Friday. 10 mile bike every Sunday morning.

For many parts of my life, I like routines. I like predictability. It keeps me on track. I get things done. When my meals for the week are packed and in the refrigerator Sunday afternoon, I feel calm and prepared.

Life isn’t stationary. Even in writing this I can see there are routines in my life that have come and gone. Commitments on Sunday afternoons shift cleaning to another slot on the weekly calendar. Waiting at sports practice provides opportunity for exercise of different times and types. Life keeps evolving and I shift and change and adapt. Small changes, small adjustments. What is important still usually gets done one way or another.

Once in a while life is more like a big brother and just asks you to play.

Next thing you know all your routines and commitments are tossed in the air and you get to pick them up, reassemble them into some sort of deck to play with. Chores to shuffle, meals to make, work to be done. But this time I was the one who tossed it all, and by choice.

Joys of weekend farm life shift Sunday’s chores further back. Editing blog posts later weekday evenings. Exercise as early in the morning as possible, sometimes at home. Laundry on Wednesdays and Sundays. Grocery shopping on Thursdays. Those cards are still the same, just shuffled differently.

Then there are the new cards. Furnishing a house. Farm chores. Helping run a new business. And don’t forget a couple of growing volunteer commitments, too. Some of these are wild cards, but they keep the game exciting.

I’m not usually one to gamble, but this new shuffle is keeping me on my toes. Learning, growing, creating a hand I’d bet on in spades.

perspective

One More Take Away

2chicksandapen
Sad Sally is here with a news flash! I finally got to go to one of my favorite nail salons. One I haven’t been able to go to since the corona shutdown.
 
First rules then limited hours prohibited my patronage. Now they are open and I was able to fit their hours into my schedule….I was excited go In for my regular service.
 
Then I got inside and it wasn’t the same. Only half the staff was there which made me sad as I talked to the owner. She had to make cuts to survive. Then the plexiglass dividers separate the little communication you have due to language barriers with the workers. I used to share smiles and giggles but now that seems weird. The little ways we show appreciation that are non- verbal are again sadly noted as missed opportunities. How can I now bridge the communication gap and connect despite the challenges? Just makes me sad overall and I feel like a sour grape when I should few like a happy camper at nail salon having a sweet treat!
 
As I sit silently drifting off into the space between sleepland and daydreaming, I reminisce and think it was just a few years ago that I started getting getting pedicures. I held out for such a long time. Now I know what a special experience it is and at least for the moment some of the best parts are gone. 
 
Of course I’m happy to help support a small business in the chaotic time but no extra massage today due to the closeness/touch factor between employee and client. Another let down for me. This is just shining example of the change that is upon us. 
 
Costs have increased for this owner although their revenue has dropped drastically. Empty seats. Lights left off. Still have to air condition the place. Pay for music, supplies, insurance, the latest nail shades. Not to mention rent. Fixed costs in a broken system. How much longer until service-oriented business who fight for discretionary spend fail?
 
What about the other half of her employees? Their families? How are they surviving? 
 
Will things ever go back to the way they were? 
 
 
family

What’s Missing Today?

2chicksandapen
Today I went to the bathroom to spray some perfume. The new bottle of perfume that only comes out annually. It’s missing. Gone. It wasn’t even in my bathroom finishing section for less than 24 hours.
 
I thought, where did I put it? As if I was in the wrong or a state of confusion. Nope, furthest from the truth. I realized it was back to school time and a little mini me must have helped herself to my stash of scents. Of course she did. She needs to smell fresh at school all day and it seems you get sweaty running up and down the halls. Smelling good combats the sweat I guess. Wow just wow. Oh the bright teenager mind.
 
Then it got me to thinking. My missing tank tops for the gym. My missing gym socks that I thought got eaten in the dryer mysteriously. I literally took inventory and I was missing a lot.
 
T-shirts, booty shorts, shoes, jewelry and so on. Basically the only exclusions were bras and panties. Does this happen to anyone else? I thought I had a private room/bath but apparently there is an invisible sign that says come in, help yourself, stay until you find what you need, smell good and feel fabulous. 
 
I am a bit speechless. A bit flattered. A bit annoyed. Does this happen to anyone else? Fall is fast approaching and why do I think I won’t even find a cute sweater or sweatshirt when the need arises. Oh well that’s because lady hot fingers has probably helped herself for all the good stuff.
 
Then there lies the problem. I can’t go shopping for replacements because I like to try things on for the perfect fit and thanks to corona I can’t. Go away Corona. I need to replenish my closet. 
 
Invasion of the teen has happened and I guess she is missing her spontaneous trips to the mall for her own retail therapy and I guess my closet is at least new to her.
 
Rehome, reinvent, recycle. Oh the words I have that sum up the year we call 2020. 
 
Life is tough in my world. Clearly some teen girl has it made though.
3Splitz Farm

Dirt to Dreams

2chicksandapen
Some folks wonder what dreams are made of. For me my current dream is made of dirt. Or it at least starts with dirt or land but there is a vision behind the layers of dust, dirt, grass, rock and critters.
Today’s dream is agricultural at its roots with the seeds planted for future development over the long haul. It’s hard to explain but to just jot down the CliffsNotes of the vision without giving away the finish line is a great way to show a glimpse to others who maybe can’t see the path on their own. My motto has always been dream big and this is a great example to showcase.
Just a chick on her tractor with her faithful sidekick moving dirt in one way or another. A whole different level of badassery than you see on the weekdays but equally satisfying. How could that be? I’m working on my dream. I’m using my own blood, sweat and tears to build something that matters. The depth and breadth of the project is hard to quantify today but the process in itself of building/assembling the dream is priceless.
The people on the journey near and far who see the value of the dream and even participate in one way or another is magical. Sharing smiles is ever so treasured when on or around my dirt pile I call rustic paradise. This past weekend we had a family gathering. The memories made on the land, in the dirt were irreplaceable. My 80+ years young mom got to share in our country festivities and see a simple side of life. No hustle, no bustle, no TV, but somehow time goes by so fast.
Three generations of women sharing stories, memories, experiences on the dirt / land I incorporate in the big dream. For now this is just one example of the value within the land. There are many more from virtual connections, friend connectivity, farmily traditions and overall growth as people within this environment.
This weekend I dealt with snakes, ducks, rabbits, dogs and other critters. I came out unscathed and enjoyed every last minute. Even the frightful moment dealing with a venomous snake. And the irony of the snake picture is I stopped to get video proof of this snake to identify it. Now it appears to be a copperhead yet last time I wrote about a snake I noted I screamed dramatically. This time I didn’t but probably should have given the type of snake!
The good news is I lived to tell another story and hope that somewhere in the world somebody is enjoy my dream big stories. Signing off as a farm girl for now before I strap on my heels for the day job. Until next time.
3Splitz Farm

Farmily

2chicksandapen

Of course, we’ve all heard of family.

Maybe you’ve even used the word “framily” for the friends who become like family.

In recent months I’ve found a new word. Maybe one no one else has ever used. I have a family, and even some framily, but now I also have a farmily.

Pieces of two families pulled together by a goal, a dream, a mission, a purpose. Dividing the work, multiplying the joy, the benefits, the possibilities. Each with our portion. Each with our reasons. Each with our gifts to sow and reap.

As with any blended group, there are growing pains. For example, there may have been some disagreements over the thermostat. Some like lights left on, others like them turned off. What brand of toilet paper to use. Who does the laundry, the cleaning, the shopping, the mowing, the countless other chores? Who makes sure the doors are locked? Moving, hanging, moving again. How early do we get up? What time do we eat? Who makes the coffee? Unloads the dishwasher? What about the pets? When and how often do we play? All the tasks…trimming, painting, scrubbing. Some were quick agreements. Some needed negotiations. Priorities shift and shuffle. But in the end, we all get there to do the work as often as we can. We bring our best selves. That’s the deal.

Farmily is a special bond. United by work and dirt. We each have our own dreams, and somewhere down the line they intersect, off in the not-too-distant future.

Not many will understand.  Few can share in it.  Dirt is thicker than water.  Our farmily.