The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


My Giant Little Baby

I look at my children as being tiny little babies…..until we are around normal children. Last night I took the kids to the Magic House for some Friday fun. Baby L and I were in the baby section and he was having such a great time. He would get up and try walking and then tumble down….I call him twinkle toes, he has quick little steps that always lead to a face plant.

There was a little boy, probably two years old, playing quietly with some blocks, he was smaller than L. L decided he wanted to check out what this little guy was doing so he twinkle toed over and body slammed the poor little guy, that little boy looked at L like he was a big retarded preschooler. I apologized for my giant baby and found a protective corner where L could play and not be at risk to harm children twice his age by falling on them.

When I grow up….

E wants to be a landscape architect and own a garden store. I want to go to work for her.

S wants to be a carpenter (he still says “builder guy”), missionary or pastor….this week. At this very moment he is outside helping his dad put the roof on the chicken coop.

Ike’s question of the week, “Mom, will you be sad when I grow up to be a dad?” I say, “Yes.” Ike then says, “Don’t be sad, I’ll still love you.” I say, “Okay, that will make me happy.”

My dream job for the month. To be the new food critic for our monthly paper, “The Current”. Oh, and have a farm that grows organic herbs and produce. So, what’s y’all’s dream job?

I’m going to call my neighbor and ask if a few of her chickens can come over to play. I want them to scratch up my garden and spread a little gold dust.

Fluffy the laser hair removal lady

I hate to admit this, but life is life and so it goes. Yesterday, I went to the “spa” to have a consultation about having the sideburns that I started to sprout in my old age removed. I feel very vain for this, and only went because I have a gift certificate to use and under no other circumstances would I feel the need to have such a procedure done….unless I was seriously growing some man hair. So, I go up to the receptionist and state my name and the time of my appointment, but cannot bring myself to say, “I’m here to get the whiskers laser beamed off my face.” So the receptionist hunts my name down and says, “Okay, Fluffy will be right with you.” The lady beside me burst out laughing and looks at me. I smiled but refused to give in to the laughter, for obvious reasons, I have no business making fun of people’s names. Then a tinge of panic hits me, are we actually talking about a human named Fluffy? And is this “person” going to talk to me about unwanted hair? Well, her name was Fluffy and she was very normal, middle aged, tall, dark hair, no canine tendencies. I kept my mouth shut about her name, I figured she, like myself, has had plenty of inquiries as to why she was given a name that beckons to be taunted. Next time, I’ll make my appointment and ask to be de-fluffed by Fluffy.