lady cordelia

my mama said one day

Have I ever told you that when I met The Brad I had very little furniture in my house or food in my fridge?  I just was vacant in a bunch of ways.  Even though I had a good family and friends, I was lost. Real lost.  I cooked up a mean meal of toast and beer and dated stinky men.  (I mean "stinky" in a figurative sense.  But, maybe also literal.) Ya.  It happens.  I had no sense of style back then.  

Check out my style now.  Ya.  That's right.   Two daughters on a Craigslist couch under vintage wool blankets.  

That.  Freaking. Rocks. Hard. 

Hey, did I ever tell you I didn't know how to cook?  I didn't even know how an oven worked.  I had lost too much weight.  I didn't think I'd meet a nice man.  I thought I'd never have an opportunity to have my own children.  All alone and lonely. I listened to sad songs.  I dreamed.  My mama promised me: One day.  

Right now my house is a mess, my kids are screaming.   My desk looks like a bomb went off and organizing it will take several hours.  I think there may be a cat poo in the litter box.   I forgot to run the dishwasher. The chicken coop needs deep cleaning.  What? Is that a pair of kids undies in the toilet?  And you know laundry is my weak point, so please... oh please...let's not even go there.   Let's go here instead:

readers: enjoy all you have today.  and prolly just skip the laundry.

Happy Tuesday.

under the covers

Jeez.  I fell off the face of the internet because I got a sinus infection.  Having a social 5-year-old sure does bring a lot of colds to this house of ours.  And maybe it's because I hardly ever sit down and relax, but this one really got me.  I almost got real sick a few weeks ago and I really got sick this time. And, I had just been thinking in the days previous to getting sick...wow..I wish I would sit down and finish knitting that hat for my friend.  Yeah, the same hat I started a month ago.  But, who can sit down and knit for hours on end with two small children, mountains of laundry, a little farm and house to be tended & plenty of food that needs to be cooked and served!?

I have super big "homesteading icons" out there in the blogging world whom I respect to the millionth degree and I have decided they must have help in their home of some form.  Someone else is cleaning out the chicken coop or doing the laundry, no?  Someone else wiping a baby butt or two?  Or, maybe I'm just hopelessly horrible at multi-tasking.   It's possible.  My husband would say it's a rock solid bet that I'm horrible at multi-tasking.  (Rude.)

Anyhoo.  My Mammy came and spent the night because The Brad is out of town (and has been oh so very busy when he is not out of town.)  And, well, I was falling apart.   My mama was also sick but we drank hot lemon water together and had a very peaceful time and I had to explain to my oldest daughter why sometimes Mama needs her Mama.  And then I had time to sit in bed and finish knitting the hat and even start another knitting project.  I also read and read and read the biography of Alice Waters and Chez Panisse.  And THAT was so fun because it got me interested in cooking again.  (I am like...on for a month and then off for a month with my cooking passion.  Its terribly depressing.  I wish I loved food like Alice Waters does.) 

I even started perusing one of her cookbooks again and decided that YES I am very excited about cooking and NO I can't wait another minute to totally make a ridiculous attempt at a Goat Cheese Souffle tomorrow.  And I also got very happy about growing more food and adding to my random wild and messy veggie boxes that pop up here and there, wherever I can fit them, around the property.  Oh.  I got so bonkers about a new one I have planned that I pretty much just burned out the last little bit of energy I had saved
to write
the blog. 
Poof.

Wow.  Well.  I'm spent.  Enjoy the rest of your weekend!  As for me, I am rather enjoying lounging around reading and knitting as if I have nothing better to do.  Luckily my girls are knee deep in books and imaginary play. Perfect! They'll hardly notice I'm under the covers.

Ciao.

weekending with my pal amanda

living (he)art.

As you may or may not know: The Brad and I are self-employed.  We swing from limb to limb doing what we love.  When we met, The Brad was starting his Landscape Photography business from the ground up.  He needed a woman who would deal with the years ahead...all the struggles and learning curves.  And there were many.   (Learning Curves that is, not women. Luckily for me.)   He also, in the midst of becoming a professional photographer, established himself as a web designer.

As for me, I wanted to do what I wanted as well.  Bringing in income from my songwriting catalog has been an up and down mainstay for many years.  (Also in the last few years I created a small editing business that I run from home.)

Anyway- we all live here in this household that is big on artistic freedom & expressing ones self as well as a  commitment to those things.  Our 5-year-old is taking piano.  Everyone told me that she was too young but she was up for it (and she is doing just wonderfully.)  This morning she broke down in tears as a new lesson surfaced and a steep learning curve presented itself.  "I can't do it."  she said.  But I wouldn't let her off with that thought in her head. I suppose I was strict with her- though lovingly so.  After just a few more minutes of focusing, she could make it through the piece.

It takes inspiration and work.  The "artistic freedom" part is easy when the inspiration is there or the piano lesson for the day is easy.  But...following your heart and sticking with it.  That's not as easy.  You know what I mean?  Even when the notes are hard to figure out or you spill water all over the masterpiece painting you just finished.  It's all part of it.

Gosh, I know.  Because I still get frustrated.  Irritated. Let down.  And sometimes I have to shut Brad's studio door because something, somewhere went wrong with his workday and the wave of yelling is so tidal that it feels we will all get swept away.  But at the end of the day, The Brad and I can look at eachother square in the eye and know we are both fulfilled with what we've chosen to do.  And that means a whole lot.

Daughters: It's work to follow the heart.  Work hard.  Follow more.  Work harder.  Then reap the bounty of all the work.  And you will, a million times over.  Truly! A painter, a teacher, a piano player, a doctor, a plumber, a landscaper, a mathematician, a whatever.  It doesn't matter. Wherever your heart leads you.  Whatever it is that speaks to you.  That is what you should follow.   It will be wonderful. I promise.

happy valentines

happy cards

happy cat

happy dogs

happy birds

happy

valentines.

xo

weekending (what a weekend.)

Hey: check out what I found this weekend.

Yes, that is my a** in $160.00 jeans.   Oh Yaaaa.   Only $3.50 at what us locals call Old Folks Thrift Store. Nevermind why we call it that.  Just don't confuse it with New Thrift, Mr. Munchkins or Stinky's.  Anyhoo: check it out:  I never thought I would own 7 for All Mankind jeans.  (Nor was I really all that upset about not owning them, if you catch my dirft.  I mean, really.   Who needs to spend that much on jeans?  I'm lost on the point totally.  But, hey.  Put those pricey jeans in my face for $3.50 and I'll be super happy to brag about wearing them.)

Then yesterday I went yard-sailing with my favorite thrifting buddy (sans kids!).  She picked me up at 8 a.m. sharp.   Unfortunately, all the yard sales we hit really left a lot to be desired.  That is, until I took my chances with an Italian espresso maker (and also a milk frother. )

Oh. My. Goodness.  I will never use a regular coffee maker again.  Never.  Never.  Never.  I AM SO HIGH  ON CAFFEINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Plus it looks so rad in my kitchen.   I feel so Italian.  Even the guy at the yard sale told me it is "way Italian" of me to buy this coffee maker.   Wow.  You just never know what amazing things can happen to one girl in one weekend.  Me: an Italian coffee drinking person in $160 jeans.  Holy.  Freaking. Moley.  

And wait, that's not all.  We found a hummingbird in our living room.  (Our 5-year-old said she saw a very big bug and we should come look.) We thought she might die, she had been trying to get out the glass window for sometime.  She rested in my shirt and looked at me for a good long while.  She didn't move.  Her tiny black eyes just blinking.  (I think she knew I was wearing $160 jeans.  She just had that look in her eye.)  Then just as we were going to put her in a little open-topped box so she could rest and hopefully regain her stregnth, she suddenly flew away like lightning to the tallest tree around.  

Recap: Wearer of Expensive Jeans.  Italian Coffee Drinker.  Hummingbird Saver.  Can you improve on that? Perhaps not. Ciao.

weekending with amanda.

joy moments

Joy pockets of the week:

~ Let's get right down to businesss: 1 small cup of Coffee.  Extra Cream.  Every Morning.  Need I say more? No.  I don't.

~ Knowing I can make fun of my husband and that everyone who reads my blog knows it IS all in good fun! The Brad's and my relationship is based in good part on teasing each other (and I think that is why we hardly ever fight.)

~ Finishing this blanket for older daughters bed.  No pins, no measuring.  Just a bunch of unstraight seams, a few puckers and a whole lotta love.  

~ This drive that I usually make twice a day.  Sigh.  Not a lot of cars.  Orange orchards. Sigh. (And don't worry I took this from the passenger seat. I'm really not a reckless driver who berates her husband for not fixing wheelbarrows. I swear!)

Come on.  Look at This Moment. I got it good.  Ya'll know that.  I know that.  Done. Finito.  End o'story.  My life is one big Joy Pocket! 

joining....
this moment with soulemama
joy pockets with monica

scenes from around here (outside)

To be perfectly honest, it's a little dreary in the yard.  Spring is just not quite poking it's head out, but it will start to do so just a little tiny bit in the next weeks.  I can already see a few tiny pink blooms on the plum trees.   (This is Southern California, after all.)  In a few weeks those trees will be pink pouffes of color and that will be the announcement that Spring has crossed the starting line.

We've packed a lot on this little 1/4 acre.  Or, rather, I have.  I seem to be the director of all things growing and laying eggs.  (And I do almost all of the work in takes to keep it all up. Even though others still reap the benefits.  Of the eggs.  And chard.  And other things edible on the property.  Oh, hey Brad. )

There are plenty of places I could clean up, plant more.  But it's challenging, takes a little inspiration and some inventiveness.  Often recently, I just wander around outside in a daze wondering how I could better the look of things.  But my wheelbarrow is broken and The Brad hasn't fixed it.  So.  Not much I can do.  Really.  Without my wheelbarrow.

Anyway.  Best go cook up some fresh farm eggs for the family.  The ones I helped the chickens lay.  By feeding them and giving them fresh water everyday and keeping their coop clean.  All by myself.  And I can hardly even do that now.  Not until my wheelbarrow is fixed.  And The Brad knows how to fix it.  And I guess I could try and figure it out.  Right after I bring in the eggs from the coop.  Brad.  I'll just take a look at it myself.  Cool.

XO

 

scenes from around here (in the kitchen)

Part of my evolution as a mother-who-cooks is to remember now and then to soak green peas overnight.  Then I can make soup or dal (depending on how much water I use) for next nights lunch of dinner. I don't decide in advance if it will be soup or dal you silly-head!! I'm still new to this whole cooking thing! See?  If it's too watery, it's soup.  Too thick, it's dal.  Voila!

Part of my evolution as a healthy feeder is to make fresh veggie juice for the girls.  (It was a 2012 resolution to keep the juicer out and use it frequently).  As long as there are enough apples in there I can get away with plenty of leafy greens too.  At first my 3-year-old said Blech! and spit it out everywhere.  Another time she pushed it away angrily with a disgusted look on her face and spilled a full cup of carrot/apple/beet juice.  (Nice.)  But, as the old adage goes, If you don't suceed, try, try again. And so I did.  And now she walks around with a beet mustache all day.  And often a beet beard too. 

Part of my evolution as a mom who hates being sick is pulling out the nettie pot, taking these herbs and downing a lot of hot water with lemon/honey/cayenne when I have a head cold. Beat the cold out in two days. Maybe it was just the nature of that specific virus to last a few days.  But, we'll never know will we. And meanwhile, the thought that I scared it out of my system with cayenne and herbs is super hella rad.

Also: Today I will be making a no-knead bread as introduced to me by a good friend.  If you have never wanted to make bread because you are highly irritated and upset about the time it will take, that's no longer an excuse for you.  Here is a recipe I found online that is similar to the one I am using today.

Well, that's it for now.  Off to make the soup or bread.  Or both.  Or neither.  That's how I roll.

(Oh..and for you that read yesterdays post, here is some sweet news: the pup was adopted by a new family already (one with out a cat or chickens). 

the doggie.

Oh gosh guys.  I'm going to try and keep these real brief cause I could go on and on.
I went to the animal shelter.  Saw a dog.  Or she saw me.  We locked hearts.  And that was that.  She was found on the roadside with her sister, still puppies. She had never had a home and her sister had been adopted.

I bought The Brad to meet her and he fell in love with her.  I brought the kids to meet her and they fell in love with her.  Then I brought our dogs to meet her.  And they thought she was tolerable.  She got along with everyone.  She loved everyone.  We loved her.  The shelter staff came to check my yard.  They saw the cat, saw the chickens and ducks in my yard.   Said it was a perfect place for such a sweet dog. We brought her home. Cute as all get out.  Smart as a whip.  Sharp as a tack.  Sweet as Cherry Pie with extra Whipped Cream. 

Then. She saw the cat. Her energy totally changed and she took off after the cat like a bat out of hell. 

Our older Lab dogs never minded the cat at all when we brought her home from the shelter last Summer.  They might give her a slurpy kiss her now and then, but that's it.  Everyone, including the shelter staff, thought this new dog would act the same way.  So, for the next few days, I  worked with the dog (on a leash) and the cat to see if maybe something could be worked out between them.  Even to just get a tail wag out of the dog when she looked at the cat would have been a sign of hope.   But when I finally got the cat out from under the bed, the dog charged her again as if she was lunch.  A few hours later my new pup charged the chicken coop.   The chickens screamed and squaked and ran all over the place like a bomb had dropped.  I searched on the internet for tips, The Dog Whisperer, all the rest of it.  It wasn't looking promising.

Then, The Brad said: Gosh Darnit. She has terrier in her.  I don't care what the shelter said her mix is. (The shelter had said she was a shepard mix.) We studied dog breed photos online for an hour at least. And The Brad said: This dog has Jack Russel Terrier in her!  And I'm sorry honey but you can't train a prey-drive instinct out of a dog.

Of course we'll really never know for sure about her mix of breeds, that's how it is with a mutt.  But the fact was, our peaceful little farm was out of balance. Nevertheless, I tried to work with the dog and cat a little more. That is, until the cat couldn't be found at all.

The chickens and ducks wanted to come out of the coop, but we knew that wasn't a safe idea.
Our house became separated and stressful.
In the end, we had to take the new dog back to the shelter.
I cried a lot. I cried until I got a headcold. The cat came out of hiding and ate for the first time in several days.

I wasn't crying because I was afraid for the dog to go back to the shelter. I know someone will scoop her up in a heartbeat.  She had lots of people interested.  I cried because I fell in love with the dog. I smiled at her and she smiled at me.

Sometimes you do the very best thing you think is possible.  And it doesn't turn out how you thought it should.  You give the very best part of yourself, your heart, and it doesn't go the way you hope it will.  Still, that's how I live.  From the heart.  With the best of intentions.  I may get let down more than I would if I didn't reach out- but I also get to experience a lot of love this way.  I simply don't know any other way to live. For better or worse. 

And I'll never forget her.

XO