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

April

The Architect

Clay

Silky Bowling Balls

We went bowling last night with my *beautiful, talented, organized, brilliant friend Deborah and her family. Ellen had a friend spending the night so with both families there were 15 of us. It was a fun evening and I only smelled a bit like a smoky bar when I got home.

However, today my entire right side hurts because I had to throw a 13 pound bowling ball to fit my mammoth thumb into the hole. Being a **tall woman does not mean that your height is in proportion to your strength, although I want my husband and others to think that I am an incredibly strong and able bodied person. My husband embraces my strength especially at my weakest moments like; making me move a ***Phillips Sized couch when I am eight months pregnant, help re-roof the house when I’m nine months pregnant or pack and move as much as possible seven weeks post c-section. Then, when I think I’m strong and able to conquer the world he says things like; “Honey, leave that bag of leaves, I’ll get it for you.” or “Here, let me take your purse while your holding those 25 bags of groceries.”

So, because I’m so **tall I have to use a man sized bowling ball and now I will pay the price for a few days because I’m not so strong after all.

Now speaking of bowling balls, the wedging of bulbous, blonde silky heads between my shoulder blades in the morning does not help aid with the recovery of sore muscles. There are too many blonde heads wedged in the bed!

* description requested by Deborah who wishes to be mentioned in my blog, but does not read it

**preferred description for people of my stature to other more accurate descriptions such as big, large or enormous

***refers to the need of a “tall” person to fit items to body type especially with the last name of Phillips

Learning to recognize my demons

I had a minor, no, major explosion at my 4-year old yesterday that involved chucking a cowboy boot at his head (that part was an accident), but he was so shocked and horrified at the way my voice had turned into something straight out of “The Exorcist” that he didn’t notice the bonk with the boot. Later, after loving apologies he said, “Mom, you were really scary when you were telling me to get my shoes on.”

My hormonal cycle seems to get a little more hyper with every child I’ve had. Before the giant mood swing sets in I usually get the hint that the time is coming by the choice of snacks I buy. I pick out the sickest, sweetest crap one can find on the Wal-Mart shelf. Like, red frosted brownies or off brand pecan sandy cookies. I mean it is just gross.

Yesterday, when we walked into Wal-Mart, Isaac said, “Hey Mom, how bout donuts?” Well, of course you can have a donut (mostly because I wanted 8 or 9 of them, and because I did whack him with a boot). So in the parking lot I dug out my foot long bavarian cream coconut encrusted donut and thought, this is so disgustingly good! I could feel the sugar calming my need to pummel everything precious in my life.

I also bought two bags of Cheetos. I ate half a bag last night and just polished off the rest for lunch and started on the second after swiping it out of my unsuspecting daughter’s hands. So, now that the roof of my mouth is all shredded up from the Cheetos I think I’ll go find some nice soft chocolate, or maybe the can of frosting in the fridge to soothe my inner demons.

…because he loves me

Because my husband loves me….
1. He gave me Alison Kraus & Unions Station Live and put it on my ipod.
2. He continues to let me have a cleaning service come every week, even though we shouldn’t be shelling out that kind of dough.
3. He gets excited about all my new adventures: chickens, music, books, gardens, design ideas, writing a blog, organizing the house, and on and on and on.
4. He tells me, “You were the prettiest girl there”, in a crowd of undeniably beautiful women.
5. When I’m pregnant, fat, swollen, zit faced, lumpy butt, greasy haired, morning breath he still desires me.
6. He laughs at all my jokes and makes fun of me in hysterical ways that make me laugh so hard I cry.
7. Sings along in his best opera voice to my made up songs.
8. Cleans up after dinner.
9. Stays up late to watch a movie with me when he’s dog tired.
10. Calls me from work to just say, “Hi”.

This list could go on for hundreds of points, but these are the ones I feel like sharing. I’m a very blessed woman to have this man.