Many of you are wondering what in the heck the Ambrosia family is doing living in Vermont...So! A snap shot for you, of me hugging a one-week-old goat kid, and some additional details below.
That's the sort of thing that happens here. It's a murky Sunday. I'm minding my own business on a dairy farm, just looking for some (more) cheese to eat. A young farmer comes along and says, "Hey lady, I've got something great to show you in the stall over here." Without hesitation I follow him, only shocked when he puts a baby goat in my arms without really asking. I feel it's fur against my skin, it's warmth and heartbeat against my chest. I coo at it while hearing "Heartlight" by Neil Diamond in my head. Then I follow Farmer Youngster to another stall where he teaches me how to hold a baby chick in my hands. Later I get in to the car and reevaluate what I'll be eating for dinner.
It's a thought-provoking place, this Vermont...and a big giant adventure for all three of us. The natives although quite friendly, call us flatlanders. Sometimes a tree falls on our property and knocks out all the utilities. When it rains a lot here, in the rural forest, and I'm trapped in the house I consider cutting off an ear. I miss you all and Tex-Mex food.
Here's what we think you are saying behind our backs:
1) "Those Canadians...she's one, too, now, you know. Marriage does that. Can't take the Texas heat anymore."
2) "I heard even after downsizing by 60% they have FOUR storage units."
3) "She's always been a little off. Likes living out there in The Nature, talking to birds and all. Treating that cat like a human."
3) "Will they come back?"
We Don't Know What We Are Doing.
And that's the best part on this adventure of a lifetime.
Goodbye for now,
You may or may not have noticed I have been ‘gone’ from this space for a while. Since Thanksgiving to be exact. I was recently called out on this fact by my young(er) sister, s, who you heard from in the prior Sister Waffle posting. She is a 10- year -old, and it’s clear to me that she does not waffle in her convictions or her word. In her call out, she told me that she had been checking out my website and she wanted to know why I was not posting.
When s asked me this question, the family was in a place of worship, on the pulpit, in the middle of a photo shoot to commemorate a major life milestone for another sibling.
I could have answered her the way one can answer a 10- year- old and/or anyone really: perhaps a sickly sweet made up story to not make her (or me) feel badly, a short-sided version of the truth, or even just a simple version of the truth.
I said that I did not know why I had stopped. That she was right that I had stopped, and I wanted to start again. That I should start again. That I had fallen down on the job.
Without judgement, she looked at me, and we proceeded to act like we were supposed to for the photographer’s next shot. If you’re supposed to be a group of people that stick out their tongues as if on cue. Memories....enter dancing cats.
The truth is that I got scared. I wanted to go deeper in my postings. I want to go deeper in my postings. I am afraid that I will say something that hurts someone, that pisses them off, and that they will not like me anymore. That they will stop reading or worse....
When I got scared, I took that feeling and dropped in to a pot where it baked in to a justification I called boredom. I said to myself: Oh, I'm bored with the blog so I will move on to something else! That wasn't right for me anyway!
Another perfect excuse. This all happened so fast I didn't even notice the pattern. Hot stuff coming out of a 37- year -old.
But s was not scared of asking me and she certainly was not afraid of my answer. She was not even afraid when everybody was kung fu fighting!
So my pledge to you is that I will continue to post. I will continue to post even though I am scared. I will offer ideas. I may piss you off, and I may make you laugh. I just may all of that.
At the end of that quick conversation with s I asked her to write a post for us. I have always wanted this to be a salon of sorts. I like to hear lots of voices. Yes, I just said I hear voices…
I’m hoping Princess Word Keeper takes me up on the request because I think she has a lot to say.
Good bye for now and hello again soon,
Here we are close to the day of American Thanksgiving. Remember I am married to a Canadian, and his gobble gobble was back in October around the time we celebrate Columbus Day, so I differentiate American and Canadian Thanksgiving. But we are here in Dallas now, in the U S of A even though some Texans are still trying to secede. More about that another time.
All around me I hear people talking about what they are grateful for, and what I hear is happy and positive stuff. Fantastic! There is an air of sweetness and peace out there this week. Of course I, too, am grateful for things like my family and friends, health and peace and my sweet cat-daughter, Lucy. And the Thanksgiving meal plan. Whoever invented that shall be sainted as far as I am concerned.
I realized when I was thinking about the concept of Gratitude that I am also really grateful for the things that did not go my way, that pissed me off, and in some cases brought me in to a fetal position. I was talking to my friend M about this and she reflected that I was grateful for experiences that 'ate my lunch'. You remember what happens when I am not fed.
And so you'll be grateful that you read what is noted below, if you don't read it while you are eating your Thanksgiving meal.
Memories….(think dancing cats enthralled in song)
One farting cat raises concerns pertaining to health of pet and calls for trip to vet.
I am crying, Canadian is pacing, Lucy is crying and farting; who wants a thermometer in their bum? NO ONE
Diagnosis used by health-care providers world-wide: infection/we have no idea, so let's try antibiotics.
Calmness! We have a solution. Off to the house for rest and recuperation.
Arrival at home. Panic! How in the HELL does one give liquid antibiotics to a cat?
Experience or experiment, you decide: Lucy is quarantined to tile-floored bathroom. I take a plastic syringe and collect the prescribed amount of 'pink medicine' otherwise known as bubble-gum-flavored child-friendly antibiotic. The Canadian holds Lucy down on the ground while I attempt to pry open a sick cat's jaw and shoot the medicine down her throat. She closes her mouth and squishes medicine out the sides. Now we have a sick orange cat that looks like The Joker.
Rinse, repeat, new strategy: I refill syringe with pink medicine. The Canadian holds Lucy up in air with her head against his. I pry open aforementioned cat's jaw, stick in syringe and press as cat squirms....shooting the medicine directly on to the top and side of the Canadian's head and face. Thick, sticky, pink medicine dripping down husband's face causes me to explode in to fits of inappropriate laughter I usually reserve for church. (Sorry, Mom.)
Frustrated husband and a scared and sad cat look to me to establish order. I get myself together and the third try is a charm. At least for that morning. The whole saga will start over again at night. Pink medicine is all over the tile and walls, and we are all worn out.
How can you not be grateful for that experience? Now I know I can administer liquid meds to a cheetah if the case presents itself. It’s got to be just as easy as administering meds to a tabby cat.
And then this example ate a bigger lunch, like a buffet in Vegas:
Four years ago this month I left a long and fruitful career in the world of technology. The experience and decision to leave was so uncomfortable for me that it took me months (years?) to act. Before I would make an actual choice the circumstances would become so awful that I was, in many ways, physically sick. I could throw out lots of details and assign blame, but I am not going to. None of that matters because the lesson was much bigger than it looked at the time. I have a significant amount of gratitude for this experience because now:
I can truly be grateful that I faced those lunch-eaters.
I can truly be grateful that I know who I am and what is important to me.
I can truly be grateful that you chose to read this, and that I can sit here with you to discuss these topics.
I can truly be grateful for the pink medicine splatter-painted wall in my bathroom.
There are and will be other experiences that want to eat my lunch and then some. To those I say, "Mangia Mangia! Welcome to the feast!"
Happy Ambersican Thanksgiving,
When I don't eat, I can be a real handful.
The other day my car presented with a dead battery. Turns out that the battery was defective, and I knew that, so I just wanted the vendor to make a switch and let me move on with my day. Next on the schedule was lunch, and I was ready to eat.
The woman in front of me in line was asking 9400 questions about tires appropriate for her vehicle to drive on rain. Rain. Not ice, not snow, not dry land, not in the mountains, not in the forest, not with Green Eggs and Ham. Question, question, question......
I waited a bit and then I walked over to the wall housing many transportation batteries.
Those of you who know me well know this: when I say the words I am about to say, all bets are off. Little did they know....
<Standing by battery wall>
Me, calmly: "I have not eaten." (These are the words)
<Blank stares from employees and other customers>
Me, calmly, while pointing at wall of batteries: "I am going to begin removing batteries from these racks and taking them outside. I will then try to install them in my car. It is best if someone tells me which one I need to use."
My new friend steps forward and asks for the make and model on my car, appropriate battery is installed and I am on my way.
I'm not terribly proud of myself for the above behaviors. I was impatient and selfish. I fashion myself a 'nice' person and really don't usually act this way. I wonder if I need to go back in and apologize to everyone. I have regrets. I am hungry.
Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was that I am mean and impatient. Maybe it is that I am nice and compassionate. Maybe it is that I have a dry sense of humor. Maybe it is a delayed response to tripping on a giant inflatable ghost on Halloween and saying the S -H word in front of the young trick-or-treaters. SHAMEFINGER!
Maybe it is all of that. Yes, it is all of that. Especially the inflatable ghost.
So here is an opportunity for you: can you think of an example in your life that has you judging yourself and confused about your behavior? Pointing the Shamefinger at you? What can you learn from being all of it?
Let's be ok with being multi-faceted.
Goodbye for now,
I've noticed that I tend to post entries around occasions and special dates, which to me are all excuses for celebrations. Rather than overanalyze that fact, I will just continue.....
When I was a child, and even now, Halloween was (is!) one of my favorite holidays. Back to the 70s: In our house, on one's half-birthday, one could pick how one wanted to celebrate. I think it was the year I was five- at my half-birthday in August- I chose to have a Halloween costume party with bobbing for apples and an Easter egg hunt. Yes, I am a food-mixer, too. More about that in the future. Being that my parents let creativity in celebrations reign, there were no objections, only participation!
Fast forward to 2011. I am near Boston due to the anniversary trip back to Vermont. What is close to Boston? Salem! The ultimate Halloween party? I found out....
Before we talk about the celebration, here is my view on witches, Halloween, history and such: I don't view this holiday or the history of what took place in Salem (and in other parts of the world) as evil. What I can say for sure is that I don't like when anyone or anything is persecuted, in any way, for being themselves. I believe there is a case for respecting history and for celebrating a holiday with many different roots in history. What I found available in Salem was a combination of history and whimsy. It was a great adventure to see the crowds, the costumes, and the commerce that has been built around the history and holiday. I'm glad I went. Here's a little lookie for you:
What is your opinion of Halloween?
Off to look for my crystal ball....
Goodbye for now,