The Woods

Scott had the day off on Monday, so we decided to go for a hike. We went to the Delano Homestead area, which is part of the Kalamazoo Nature Center. The woods there are just beautiful, with enormous tulip trees that take my breath away. Walking into the forest was like applying a soothing balm to the chafing caused by city living. We spent a good three hours out there, and left tired but refreshed. As much as I love my house, and our diverse and friendly neighbors, I want nothing more than to just get out of here, and move to the country.

I grew up in the country. We lived on a modest 10 acres, but that was enough for my siblings and I to build our share of forts, and to take our old moped off-roading. We were bordered on two sides by fields, which usually gave rise to corn or soybeans, and made great places to take our horses on trail rides. On another side, there was an adult foster care home. The people who ran it stole our dog once and gave it to their adult daughter, saying he was a stray. Those bastards even plead ignorance to his whereabouts when we trudged through knee deep snow to their door, desperate to find any sign of him. Their daughter eventually figured out what had happened and brought him back to us nearly a year later. I just have to wonder how well those vulnerable adults were cared for by the kind of people who would steal a Schnauzer from a bunch of kids. But I digress....

I really took for granted how wonderful it was to have the kind of freedom that I did as a child. We could take off on our bikes whenever we wanted, with no clear idea as to where we were going or when we would return. My kids can't even ride bikes on our road because it is a one block dead end on a steep hill running down to a very busy street. My playground was the woods, the barn, and our sizable lawn with walnut trees along the fence line. I'll never forget running across the yard and stepping on one of the fifteen million walnuts that would cause your ankle to roll over like a submissive dog, leaving you on the ground with grass and walnut stains on your jeans. And then there were the barn swallows that made it impossible walk into the barn while maintaining an erect posture. Those damned birds would come careening toward our heads like crazy little kamikaze pilots if we got within 20 feet of the barn that housed their nests. Our old barn (as opposed to the new barn that was built when I was in high school) was so cool. I remember when I learned that all the nails in the barn had been made by hand, which was why they did not have a smooth cylindrical body, but four flat sides. I spent a lot of time thinking about how old those nails were, and who made them, and how. We used to "paint" the barn for my mom when she needed to get us out of her hair. She'd send us out there with buckets of water and paint brushes, and we could "paint" whatever we wanted on the chipped red sides. The sight of our work evaporating in the summer heat is still fresh in my mind. We had a garden, of course. There's a picture of my little plastic pool brimming with ripe, red tomatoes from a year when we had more than we knew what to do with. And another year we answered a knock on our door from a local farmer who told us we just couldn't have sweet corn in our garden because cross-pollination with his crop could be an issue. As he politely explained this to us, we noticed his wife in the garden pulling our corn plants out.

I have so many great memories of living in the country, and I so badly want the same for my kids. Unfortunately, the housing market is really terrible right now. We're doing some outdoor projects this year to spruce the house up, and we've done so much to the inside. I love this house, and wish we could pick it up and set it down in the middle of the woods. But since that's not an option, we have to make decisions as to what will help us sell this place, and what will just drain our bank account.

So for the time being, I'm stuck getting my nature fix elsewhere. It sucks to have to DRIVE to get there, but it is so necessary to get the kids outside where things are growing wild. I owe it to them to make that a part of their lives. I don't want to end up with a bunch of sissies who are afraid to get dirty!

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Venus of Willendorf

Look what I got for Mother's Day! Isn't she beautiful? I'm still planning on getting the phoenix chest piece done, but since Twyla is too little for me to leave for hours, I figured this lovely lady could keep me company in the meantime. Do you think this is what Dub-ya had in mind for the stimulus checks?

I tried to explain to Scott what I wanted, and he was unfamiliar with the Venus of Willendorf, so I printed him a picture. "Looks like she's had too many Cheetos," he said. Hardy Har Har. Actually, the reason she's so amazing to me is precisely because the didn't have Cheetos in the paleolithic era. The woman whom this statuette was modeled after ate a 100% natural diet, and still looked like this. She sure wasn't sitting around eating Ben and Jerry's while watching Law and Order! She is a testament to the fact that beauty comes in many shapes and sizes, and all should be revered. As I continue to try to get in better shape, she will serve as a reminder that health should be my ultimate goal- not my physical appearance. Blessed be.

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This sucks.

I'm falling apart. Not even thirty, and I feel old. Latest on the list of ailments that have plagued me over the last few months: gallbladder issues. Trust me, gallbladder attacks are just as much fun as you've heard. It pretty much feels like if you could die from abdominal pain, then you would be doing just that. But since abdominal pain alone can't really cause you to expire, you just writhe around on the bed or floor wishing that it could. Or in the case of my last attack, you may find yourself jumping up and down frantically and pacing/running around the house as if you could somehow get away from it if you were quick enough. Sounds like a riot, huh?

And as bad as having the attack is, there is an aspect to trying to avoid an attack that is nearly as bad- eating low fat. EEK! My god, why do people put themselves through such torture voluntarily? Let me start by saying that I truly believe that eating a low fat diet is unhealthy. I'm hoping that I won't have to continue eating this way for long because, frankly, I'm STARVING! I don't feel full after eating tons of steamed vegetables- unless they have butter on them. A couple of bowls of borscht don't seem to cut it, either. But it probably would if I could add the ground pork to it, instead of making an unsatisfying low fat version! I just want a burger, dammit! I don't want a TURKEY burger! What is the point in that? I might as well have a sawdust burger! Why does the universe hate me? Please, please, please, great spirit, god, goddess, or anyone else who might be listening- come deliver me from this hell on earth!!! And bring some butter cream frosting.

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