If I had to do it all again . . .

I think my work may not be with humans. I think that maybe I should have focused a bit more on mathematics and the sciences and studies veterinary medicine. But humans are still attached to animals.
I love my job working with students. I think alot of that has to do with my returning to college as an adult and having children in college. My theory is that I treat students with the same respect that I would want some to treat my child.

And for the adults, I just 'get' it . I know what it is like going to college as a single parent, no money, trying to juggle multiple jobs of parenthood and student. And thinking that obviously anyone would understand.....

I have been slapped in the face with the ugly side of humans. I try to treat other people fairly and honestly. I'm not so good at being secretive and deceptive. I've never had the opportunity - or misfortune- of being in an environment with someone who truly wanted to hurt me. And was smart enough to do so without being obvious.

It's amazing. I feel threatened. I feel frightened for my family - kids AND animals. Not by anything that was said to my face but by a feeling. There is just such a feeling of negativity. I just have a feeling that this person has the ability to make my life a living hell.

I hope I'm wrong. I know that throughout my life journey I've managed to hurt people, to piss people off, to do the wrong thing, to cause pain to others. I am the queen of avoidance and many times this has not been a benefit - to me or others. But one thing that has been consistent, one thing that I know about myself, is that I do have a fairly strong instinct of the auras of others. That sounds very otherworldly and I don't mean it to be so but I can't think of another word for it.

A new chicken house

I thought if my chickens had a better place to hang-out, new nesting boxes, more spacious quarters, then they wouldn't make me play hide/see for their eggs. Not so.

Despite all the hard work which was inspected by the farm chihuahua . . . we are still playing and hide/see for the eggs.

A friend once told me that chickens were stupid. I don't believe it. Chickens are smart. If I gather their eggs from one hiding place, they won't lay there again. Soon (I hope) they will run out of places to hide them. Or they will take pity on the old goat who travels out rain or shine, to give them goodys.

We are different . . . we are the same

I thought before I arrived in San Antonio, that I would be entering into a whole new culture. I wasn't sure what to expect--sure as heck didn't figure I would have the flying experience I had.

I suppose, I was expecting to run into a different type of human. Something exotic, something vastly different than the humans running around central Pennsylvania. Hmmm......

Not so, this is now my third day in the little five block area of San Antonion of which I've become somewhat familiar. Sure, I'm hearing some language that is different than english--but not as quite a variety as what I hear at home. Working on a University campus, I hear several different languages during a typical walk across campus.

So they don't sound different.

I recognize the same outfits worn by our teenagers back home. The fashion uniform of jeans and T-shirt worn by virtually every boy and girl in our local high school.

So San Antonians don't look different.

Three days doesn't give me time to do an indepth analysis of their beliefs, morals, character.....not that I would want to do that anyway. But I suspect that there wouldn't be much difference there either.

The land is different. The humans are fundamentally the same - wherever you go. Or wherever I go. We have the same hopes for the future and dreams for our children. We feel dispair over the same types of failures and exhilaration over the same types of successes.

It is surprising and it is life affirming. Humans are the same. From wherever we come.

Premonition

When I wrote the post, Those I Leave Behind, the title felt a little creepy to me. I'm not a great traveler. I'm money poor and I don't like airplanes. But back in June, the associate Dean of the college for which I work, offered me the opportunity to attend a conference. I jumped on the opportunity to go to San Antonio TX for a conference related to my work. Didn't think too much about the method of transportation. I had to fly.

Now some background: my father was an Air Force pilot. My earliest memory was overhearing a phone conversation of my mother that 'a plane was down and they didn't know who it was'. For 3 days, we didn't know if my dad was dead or alive. He was alive. Ever since, I've been terrified of flying. He continues to laugh at my fear.

I did finally fly at the age of 43 to Las Vegas to a conference for work. It was fine. Went off without a hitch.

This past time, however, the flight from DC to San Antonio was cancelled due to a plane malfunction and we were required to take an alternative route to Denver. So off we went. And half way through the trip, the captain spoke on the intercom that we had lost our hydraulic system and needed to make an emergency landing. I cannot put into words the stark terror I felt. I was helpless. In a plane, you can't bailout. You can't pull over. You have to COME DOWN. So we made our emergency landing - again, without a hitch. And sat in Kansas City, and flew to Dallas, and then on to San Antonio.

There are no words to describe the quiet terror I felt/feel thinking about my impending trip back home. I have friends who fly back and forth across the world without a thought. It is as natural for them as it is for me to hop in my car and go. Is my experience normal? Is this commonplace to have a plane lose its hydraulic system? I mean, thank goodness, there are more systems to back them up.

I think that when I get home, I will be happy for my little spot on earth. For my kids. For my husband (who offered to drive 1358 miles to bring me home). For my animals.

There have been a number of things in the past few weeks that have caused me to reflect on my life and what things really mean to me.

And things mean nothing. And my family and friends mean everything. And I will be very glad to get home.

Pet Parade at Katillac Shack!!!

Come see all the dawgs strutting their stuff (or their scarves). . . .http://www.katillacshack.com/

Follow the link and see some beauties like this:

DIY DOG SWEATER! Love Animals? Be Here For The Party!

DIY DOG SWEATER! Love Animals? Be Here For The Party!

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Those I leave behind . . . .

and who will anxiously await my return!

I'm excited to go to San Antonio but I belong here! That's what makes it all so special - the anticipation of a new experience in a new culture and the warm feeling of being back with those who love you.

Silkies and llamas and goats, oh my!

A little cotton ball. A dandelion gone to seed. That's what these little chickens remind me of.

Over the past 15 months, I've done some things that I never thought I would do. Starting a farm is one of them. I even entered an essay contest to win a flock of Angora goats.

I know that it is unlikely that I will win them. But writing that essay did prompt me to exam exactly what my animals meant to me and what my goals were long-term.

That really sounds too much like my work! But honestly, it was fun and a lark to pick up these animals. And it does provide for much entertainment. But really, what do my goats, horses, llama, and chickens mean to me? For me?

I think for the first year, my animals (farm animals, that is) acted like knickknacks. They were a novelty and they are definitely cute. But now that we've gotten to know each other, it is clear to me that our relationship is far greater than that. As I wrote in my essay, my animals ask nothing from me other than the basics. Regardless of what type of day I had, or that they've had, they are always welcoming. Always running up to me to see what I'm doing. That's not quite the case with the humans in my life. Often times I feel that I'm just a piece of furniture albeit a piece of furniture that can cook.

My animals also trust me. They know that when they see me they can expect to be fed, or hugged, or talked to.

They also are fairly straight forward. Dolly llama for instance will spit at me if she is ticked off at me--usually for something like trying to brush her too hard. The animals either like you or they don't. They don't pretend.

The essay got me thinking about supporting myself after retirement or whenever I really get sick of the rat race. I grow lovely herbs. I could shear Dolly and use her hair for yarn. I would need to learn some things. To point that I could sense the right way of doing things.

So I guess the whole point of this posting is that I've learned so much just by simply writing the essay. I've learned not only what my farm animals mean to me, but what my human friends mean to me as well. I can't believe how many people were willing to vote for me. And the comments they made . . . nearly made me cry.

I may not have written the winning essay to get the flock of goats, but through everything else I've gained from this experience,

I think I won.

Goodbye summer

Even the happy sunflowers hang their heads low as summer slips into fall.

Goodbye to the heat of the morning as I step out to say good morning to my farm friends. Goodbye to swimming in the cold water of the creek.

Goodbye to Hermit Island and to the gulls that laugh at us,

the crabs that run from us, and the deer who sleep in the brush next to our tent.

Goodbye to sitting on the deck with my mom and dad, enjoying a cold beer and good conversation. Goodbye to lunchtime walks with my favorite friends.

Goodbye summer--we've had enough and we're ready for the vibrant, crisp colors of another friend, Autumn.

Fragile Life

How fragile is life?

A freshman student was found dead at the bottom of stairwell. Four weeks into classes. His dreams, his family’s dreams, gone. He may have been a future president, he may have developed a cure for cancer, he may have been the one to save us all. We’ll never know. One second he was alive, the next—gone

His life or rather, his death, has been the impetus for me to do some reflection on my life (that I still have) and all of the trivial things I’ve been complaining about. Seriously. Boo-hoo for me. I have a really good job but poor me because I’m having a hard time with the supervision part of it. Really – wouldn’t this dead boy’s family give anything to have that be their worst problem? How dare I cry over my dissatisfaction of a situation that most people would find very satisfying! Instead of whining, I should be celebrating!

For today, I think that I will take notice of all the little, good things. Instead of stressing over having to fix the fence--again--I'll be thankful that Bella, Tommy, and Cookie Dough didn't escape and wreak havoc across the valley. Instead of dreading having to lug gallons of water from the kitchen to the animal water troughs because the water pump isn't working, I'll be thankful that have the strength to carry water.

For today, I'll simply be thankful to have a family who is always there for each other. Always. I have wonderful kind children, I have healthy, happy animals. I have colleagues who I consider to be my friends.

For today, I'll simply be thankful.

Getting old ain't for sissies!

It just seems like yesterday that I was - seemingly - the same age as my parents. I can remember hiking with them in Cooks Forest, taking the kids to the local swimming hole, tagging along with my mother as she did her marathon shopping trips. I remember trips to Erie to visit my favorite aunt and uncle and my cousins. Little things bring back these memories so clear, so sharp, it is almost as if I've gone back in time.

It also takes just little things to bring me back to reality: the tickettaker at the local fair asking me if I was a 'young senior' (I cried), a young girl whispering loudly at how gross I looked in my shirt (it was a fully-covering shirt I borrowed from my daughter because I had dumped grease on the shirt I was wearing), or a weekend with my parents watching my dad shuffle from place to place.

I was devastated by the former two harbingers of time. I almost said 'screw-it'! Why should I bother running and eating healthy when I just look like hell anyway! Thankfully my pity-party lasted only a short time and I've gotten back to me. I don't know why it bothered(s) me so much. Seriously, if I cared what people thought, I would wear makeup and all of the other cosmetic things to make me appear younger.

I hate that I'm periodically reminded of the cruelty of humans. Of how we compare others to ourselves and how we think we/they should be. I know I'm guilty of it. In fact, I'm writing this blogpost about it which indicates that it does matter to me. When I'm at the receiving end of thoughtless remarks and unintended insults, while it does hurt - it reminds me to be a little more careful in how I communicate.

But getting back to oldness and parents and all of that . . . . I spent the weekend with my mom and dad. I hate that my mom has a hard time hearing even with her aids. I hate that my dad is becoming forgetful at times and has a hard time walking (despite this walking difficult, he still continues his job as a consulting forester). But I'm also seeing something that is truly amazing - that 30 years ago, I never would have thought possible. My dad is happy. My dad is enjoying being around family. And even though he doesn't participate a whole lot in the conversation, he is actively listening. We were at the wedding of my younger cousin - young as in 44 years old. A few years ago when my dad was still drinking quite a bit. He would have sat and pouted in a corner and then complained the whole way home making everyone miserable.

Dad no longer drinks more than 1 or 2 beers and the change in his disposition is nothing short of miraculous! He doesn't complain - he could complain and be depressed about his waning ability to hike in the woods but he doesn't. He seems to genuinely be happy! And everyone has noticed!

No, getting old is not for sissies - only the strongest survive! But surviving to an old age, no matter what age - is a blessing!