Tomorrow is another day..

The early morning sun was warm for a January day.  I stood looking out the kitchen window in the early morning light wondering how the lawn could have gone all summer without needing mowing but here it is January and I have to mow the lawn.  The drought has made so many things seem strange this year.  The drought, the fires and winter rains have confused the plants and the animals, it has stressed the economy and all the people in the area.

I did my indoor chores, went to town, and then I began working on the lawn mower.  Wracking my brain I tried to remember if I had ever read about gasoline or diesel evaporating.  I know that I usually drain it from all my machinery but I remember the lawn mower having about half a tank.  I remember thinking that I was going to have to do some work on the tractor because I had left diesel in it.  There was not a drop of fuel in either.

I got the battery out of the trunk of the car that I had been saving for the tractor, I put the charger on the lawn mower so that it could charge while I replaced that tractor battery.  I sat the battery on the floor board of the Kaboda, lifted the lid and assessed the situation for the tools needed.  7/8ths for the battery tie down, 12 millimeter for the cable ends and the air filter bracket.  Bucket of transmission oil, drain pan and a 5 gallon bucket to drain the old diesel, all collected and carried out to the tractor.

I took the battery off and noticed that the battery I had wasn’t gonna fit, it was too big.  Plan B in implementation.  I went and got the scooter battery that I knew would fit on it.  I opened the gas cap so that I could start draining the diesel while I worked but there was nothing in there.  I crawled under the tractor to pull the plug and let the transmission oil drain.  Put the drain pan under it and continued on with the battery.  I noticed that the battery that I took off was a Ford style.  The posts are in the front and the positive is on the opposite side as a normal battery.  Still it will work, I will turn the battery backwards with the posts to the rear and all will be good.  Nope, the negative cable is about an inch too short.  So, I think tomorrow we start out at the auto parts store.  I dropped the plug in the drip pan full of transmission oil, so I am oily up to my elbow.  I get the tractor as far as I can in the warm sun and walk away.

I feel the battery charger should have done its job by this point and I can air up the flat tire and at least get the front yard mowed.  Time for a new battery.

I walked back out to the pasture, turned the water tank upside down.  The metal tank was warm as I sat on it.  Quietly sitting, breathing in the fresh air, and soaking up the warm sunshine.  Why does everything have to be a major act of work.  Tears streamed down my cheeks, their warm salty wetness falling onto the grungy t-shirt that I was wearing.  I cannot seem to stop them.  When and where and how did I get to this point in life?

I grew up helping mom and dad.  There really wasn’t any set chores for any one of us, I have seen mom work on the car, help dad in the shop, both did wood work, I have seen dad clean the kitchen, cook, and sew.  What one of them was good at seemed to be the other’s weakness.  Both working together to make it all happen.  It seems that I have never found that.  And now that everyone is in bad shape physically it seems I never will.  Looking back over my life, maybe it was meant for me to end up by myself.  I am a tom-boy, I am a girly-girl, I am somewhere from one extreme to the other.

I know that I am tired and need a break but I don’t see it happening without incredible heartbreak.  I have watched as dad’s hearing fails, his strength lessens and his thinking isn’t as sharp.  I have watched as John weakens, his breathing is worse, the lack of oxygen takes its tole on his mind.  I know the past year has not been kind to either and some days I feel as alone as if the worst has happened.  Today was one of those days.

No, my life isn’t perfect.  I take it one day at a time.  I go for long walks, I write at length about mostly nothing important.  I take my camera in search of life, of passion, of beauty.  I put away my tools, shower, wash my hands repeatedly ( I can’t stand for my hands to be dirty), and I start supper…… tomorrow will dawn a better day.  Filled with the blessings and love that everyday is and I will try it all again.  Now it is time for sleep……..

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Time will tell.

Up incredibly early, dressed in boots and jeans, camera in hand, I walked out the door.  Shutting it softly as I did not want to wake the house.  The crisp early morning air filled my lungs and I decided the sweater  I was wearing wasn’t going to be enough to keep me warm.  I grabbed my denim coat and headed to the truck.  Driving down the back country roads before the sun kissed the horizon, I was excited about my morning journey.  I crossed the cattle guard and slowly made my way up the gravel drive.  The tires crunching the gravel adding to the sounds of the early morning as I drove with the window down.  Somewhere in the far off distance a coyote lent his voice to the darkness, sending chills down my spine.

The warmth of the house spilled out the windows, the glowing light of the house tried to escape.  I stepped up on the wooden porch as the front door opened, allowing warmth and light to bathe my feet and cold hands.  A cup of  hot coffee thrust at me and a smile and warm welcome touched my heart.  In the hearth, a roaring fire, the odor of mesquite burning, the faint smell of the long since extinguished candle from the night before still lingered in the room, and the aroma of cologne mingled as my senses took in the room.

We sat momentarily, sharing the hot coffee and chatting softly.  Then,  cups deposited in the deep Italian sink, we began our journey.  Out to the barn, we fed the chickens, the sheep, the goats.  We took time with each and every animal to love and nurture.  The softness of the chicken feathers as the eggs were gathered, whispering softly to each lady.  Thanking her for her hard work and for not pecking the bare skin of my hand.  The baby lambs playing in the pen around the ewes,  eagerly awaiting breakfast.  Nibbling at my jacket edge and butting heads with each other.  We talked of the animals, of the love and friendship they provide.  We talked of caring for them and appreciating them.  We chatted about friendships and lost loves, of animals that have blessed our lives.  Chores done, we stepped into the big red barn that seemed to me should be in a picture somewhere.  Pictures?  My camera still in its fanny pack, I have not even uncased it.

Inside the warm barn, was like walking into an equestrian dream.  The smell of fresh hay, of the horses, the sounds of the beautiful animals engulfed my senses.  Standing in the middle of the barn, taking in the whole of the experience, I realized  my host had already retrieved the tack.  She was standing at the stall door laughing at me.  I opened the stall door and was greeted by the whinny of a beautiful paint.  Holding my hand out so that she could take the sugar cube from my hand, I began stroking her majestic face.  Talking softly, listening to her talk back.  I let my hands caress her body, her legs, and ran my fingers through her mane.  She knew that I would have another treat for her, and she sought it out.  Nudging my arm, nuzzling my shoulder, I laughed at her eagerness.  “Patience, Princess,” I crooned.  I rubbed her before sliding the llama hair blanket across her,   I slowly stroked her neck and face as I slid the lead rope over her head.  I reached into my coat pocket and pulled the shiny red apple out.  “Do you want this now?”  I whispered.  Her head bobbed up and down.  I knew that she wanted it.  As she ate the apple I led her from the stall out into the star filled sky, dimming slightly as the thin orange line graced the horizon.   My host had been busy with the chestnut that she lead out of the barn.  I laid the lead rope up across her back as I stepped up on the bottom pipe of the fence.  I am not tall enough not to have a boost.    Mounted on the two big, wonderful beasts we began our ride.

We rode in silence both enjoying the morning sounds, the sounds of the bobwhites crooning, the sounds of the hoof falls, the crunch of the dead foliage that covered the ground.  The breathing of our riding partner as it pierced the morning.

As the sun began to break the horizon we began to talk.  To talk of things that mean nothing, but mean everything.  We talked of the past, of our journey’s, how we had arrived where we were.  We talked of the future, where we wanted our path to go, what we wanted it decorated with, what our hearts felt.  We talked softly, with no fears.  We talked of the present.  Of what we needed in our lives, of how we wanted to put those things into our lives.  The log cabin growing smaller as we rode.  Nature engulfing and hugging as we let the horses take us farther into the early morning.  We talked of nature, of connections, or spirit, of past loves and future hopes.

The sunrise began to paint with all the colors that nature possesses across the eastern sky.  The creek babbling as we approached.  We dismounted and let the horses roam the waters edge.  Drinking the cool water that sparkled in the sunrise then wondering off a ways to graze in the winter wheat.  We found a downed oak tree and sat as if we were sitting in the most regal of chairs.  Neither talking but enjoying the peacefulness of the sunrise.  Our talk turned to spirituality.  A subject that is rather raw right now with me.  We talked of the loss of our mother’s and how it began a new journey for both of us.  It was as if she knew I was holding back.  She gently stroked my arm.  Encouraging, enticing, never pushing.   I began to tell her of my thoughts, my experiences.  I began to slowly trust.  She never laughed, she never condemned.  She asked all the right questions and her input of her own experiences took our conversation deeper and deeper into my very soul.  We sat in the cool morning air, the water talking softly, the horses speaking gently, the earth seemed to vanish to the point that there were just two souls.  We sat and talked for what seemed only moments, but in actuality was at length.  The sun was climbing when we remounted and headed back to the barn.  Laughter, tears,  and emotions shared, we rode in comfortable silence.

The horses brushed and put away with fresh hay and water.  A treat of oats.  We walked and talked our way back to the house.   We enjoyed a hot cup of coffee as we warmed by the fire and for the first time in a long time, I felt connected.

I drove towards the house.  Knowing that I had not taken my camera out a single time.  I pulled off the road into the parking lot of a small school long since abandoned.  I took out my laptop and I began to write.  Putting into words the simple act of friendship beginning.  The simple act of sharing a morning ride.  The past few weeks have been incredibly stressful, I have been trying to accomplish so much yet I have been wondering if I am pulling away from people that I thought cared.  I have been wondering if I have made them mad or afraid or if I have utterly just showed how weird I really am and they have pulled away.    Or is it that we are all so wrapped in our own things that we have just not had the time or energy to share.    I share, then I get fearful that I am too strange to be liked.  That I am too different to be friends with people.  That I will always be that alien.  Each of us was created to be different, to stand out on our own, but I have always felt that I was beyond different.  My intentions today were to walk away from people that I have recently shared with.  To walk away from a wonderful friend that I love dearly.  Why?  Fear.  Fear that I have shown too much of myself.  That I have shared too much of my own soul.  Hot tears streak my face, as I write.  It has been awhile since I really wrote anything, little things here and there but nothing major.  No, my life isn’t perfect.  In so many ways it is far from it.  But it is my life right now, and all I can do is take each day and find the simple blessings that are given to me.  Be incredibly happy in them and learn from what isn’t perfect for it is those trials and tribulations that make me this strong, loving, caring woman.  So, I guess the only question left in my heart is how to conquer the fear of having lost people that I opened up to.    Is it me or is it fact?   Do other people have this fear?  Time will tell…..

Penitence???

Here I sit waiting.  That seems to be my penitence for some past begone lack of character on my part.  I am tired of things falling through, I am tried of always being on the incoming of all the crap.  I am tired of trying so hard to make things work and getting nothing but the shaft.  I give it to the all mighty, I keep a positive attitude.  I am kind, gentle, and optimistic beyond words.  So here I sit with all the phone calls made, all the things done that I can and should have done.  My financial aid has not marked up yet and class starts on Tuesday.  I called to see about getting daddy a new nebulizer because his went out last night only to be told that I need a new prescription.  The doctor is closed on Friday.  Waiting on the house in Slaton stuff, just waiting, waiting, waiting…….

It is like I am never supposed to succeed and things fall right.  I am tired.  I am frustrated, I am beyond all hope today.  I give up trying today….. call back tomorrow……it will have a better outlook.

about the real me……

Lives are not always as they seem to be.  Especially mine.  I do keep a good attitude most of the time, there are days when I just want to throw up my hands and walk away.  I never have, walked away that is.  I have walked away from specific people but not from the life I have.

I have learned to see how blessed that I really am and no matter how hard life gets I know that there is a lesson in it.  Life is never a bed of beautiful roses that has no thorns.

I really don’t remember when I noticed that I was really different.  My teachers always seemed to know.  My parents always knew, but I have no clue when I knew.  I remember getting sick a lot at school.  I didn’t think anyone at school noticed until I was in Junior high.  Sitting in Mrs. Glasscock’s class and I was really ill.  I remember asking her if I could go to the bathroom because I needed to throw up.  She sent me back to my seat and told me I would have to wait.  I went back to my desk and laid my head down.  I remember my classmates telling her that from the color of my face it was best to let me go.  Sure enough, about a minute later I didn’t ask I just bolted from the room.  That was the first time I knew that even my classmates knew that I got sick quite a bit.

Why did I get sick so much?  Overload.  I have had overload issues since I was little.  So lets back up further and see if I can’t create me.

I was born 2 months to the day premature.  But that doesn’t really matter.  At a very young age I did “weird” things.  I talked to people that were not there, I could tell you if someone was coming to the house, or if we returned home from town if someone had been to the house.  I sought out places that were quiet and alone.  I talked to the animals a lot.  I was born on a farm and we always had animals.  Bumps in the night didn’t scare me as a child, I was always curious.  Early on in life Daddy knew that I was a very different child, he too had been one.

Mother didn’t take me to church much, I think she was afraid that they would burn me at the stake.  So Daddy taught me to believe with all of my heart.  That I didn’t have to go to church to believe.  Besides large crowds would give me a migraine and make me vomit.

Daddy started teaching me very early on to block out most of the noise, but I have never been very good at it.  I still had very vivid night mares.  Not the kind of nightmares most kids have.  You know the monsters under the bed, or falling type dreams.  My dreams were of real people talking to me.  Telling me things that I didn’t understand or didn’t want to know.  I would tell mom and dad my dreams.  I was lucky, they never showed any doubt.  They were always supportive.  They knew if I dreamed someone died to call and check on them.  Because as a general rule they either did or were in really bad shape.  Later I quit playing the piano because I would scare Mom sometimes when I played.  I would be in a trance like state and what I was picking up came out in my playing.

Over the years there were many things I learned to do with my gift.  Never sit in the car and play what car will we see next.  You will lose.  Even on Christmas morning when there is like no traffic on the Idalou highway.  After I told my parents that the third car in my pick was a pink Cadillac with long horns on the front and about 15 minutes later the next car to come around the corner was.  The first two choices were a Rolls Royce, and a cracker jack pick up…and they were.  No one wanted to play with me any more.

But the flip side to the funny things that I could do was the head aches.  I have suffered with migraines for years.  Even as far back as kindergarten.  The reason that I was always so quiet was that I was busy listening.  I learned to listen, I learned so much without anyone having to say a word.  I learned that if someone had a headache I could make it go away.  If their heart was racing I could make it slow down, if their knee hurt I could take that too…you get the drift.   It took me awhile to learn not to take it for myself but to let it pass out into open space.  That was a little hard sometimes because it was sure easy to give it to someone that made you mad.

I have learned to talk to people more.  To be more of an extrovert instead of an introvert but there are still some times when I am leery of talking.  There are times when you meet some one that you know that they are evil.  You learn to recognize where the feelings are coming from and how to avoid them.  Sometime spirits have a hard time taking the hint that you want to be left alone but even with practice you learn to get rid of them too.    For example I came home early from Tech the day of the Oklahoma City bombing.  I could hear voices in distress, I knew there were people dying, I knew that evil was at the root of it.  I cried all the way to mom and dads house.  I got there and daddy and I were sitting in the livingroom watching the news as the first reports hit the television.  The morning that the first plane hit the twin towers I had called mom hoping that the severe feeling of doom would pass if I talked to her about it.  As I sat there on the sofa in the den, watching the morning news I watched as the first plane struck.  There was an interview going on in the street of NYC and the camera man saw the plane and panned upward to watch it instead of keeping on the reporter.    Am I a witch?  No.  Am I psychic?  Not any more than any other human on the planet.  Do I talk to animals?  Yes.  I remember working for boweevil.  There was this one pasture that I had to put traps around.  There was this incredible bull in it.  I would put up a trap and he would come over and knock it off.  It was a game we played.  I was standing, like I did every week at the end of the fence line, giving his orneriness a scratch and a pet.  A pick-up came racing up and the owner jumped out and ran around to the other side.  He whispers…move slowly away from him and he won’t hurt you.  I said, ” what are you talking about?”  The driver said, ” he is so mean we can’t breed him or move him.”  Really??  As I scratch his chin.  The driver said, ” come over behind the pick up and I will show you.”  I did as I was told and he walked only to the other side of the pick-up.  WOW!  Mr. Orneriness was wicked!!  He tried every way possible to kill that man.    The man came back to the far side of the pick up and I walked back to the fence.  The bull was a perfect sweetheart.

I still have sensory overload, not near as often but some.  This week with so much going on and having let people into my life that seem to thrive on drama, trying to get back into school, and get all the bills paid I have reached overload.  I don’t answer the phone, I stay off line more, and I avoid going to town when I am like this because any energy contact makes it worse.  The best thing I can do is shut down and reboot.

So, yes I see and converse with dead people, I do hands on healing, I can pick up thoughts, I can do some future work, I can tell where evil lives (either in a body or a house), I hate crowds and bars because they make me sick, and drinking  enhances it all.  The last week I have been searching high and low on Empath sites for information.  I came up with one that I could not have written.    So, I guess all the research I have done over the years trying to figure out what was wrong with me has actually lead me in the right direction.  I have noticed that since Mom died there are parts that have grown stronger, there are parts that have become a little more intense (good and bad).

These were things that you are taught as a small child that you didn’t talk about or admit to.  I am 43 years old and if you know and love me I am no different than I was yesterday or 10 years ago.  No, I haven’t lost my mind, although there have been many times in my life I wish I would have to make it be quiet.

brain work

For years I have wondered why I don’t talk.  Why people tell me that I don’t tell them things that I swore I did.  I had taken John into town to the store the other day and we were driving home discussing what all we had forgotten at the store.  John says, ” I really need some black pepper to fill my shaker but I forgot to tell you while you were at Kroger’s.”  I told him that I had gotten his soda’s in the store but that I had forgotten to get Daddy’s.  We drove a little further and I finally said, ” I will get you some of those dollar Pepsi at the dollar store.”  He laughed and said, “huh?”  I said, ” well if we are going to stop at the dollar store for the things we forgot in town they still have those on sale.”  He looks at me and is laughing his butt off.  He said, ”  You know the older you get the more you forget that just because you can hear every thought that everyone else has does not mean that the rest of us can hear yours.”  This one statement lights a fire in me.  I don’t hear every thought from every person!!!    He laughs at me.  He says, ” You know most people have to know someone or touch someone to have a connection with them.  You never have had to have any contact at all to pick them up on that radar of yours.  Even when you were a little kid, you did this.  You were such a quiet child, you didn’t talk much but you seemed wiser way beyond your years.  You seemed to be a human sponge with everything and everyone that you came in contact with.  I knew long before we ever married that you were something of an anomaly.  I knew that Texas Tech was going to drive you nuts by the size of the classes, that you would have a hard time concentrating on a professor when there were 500 other students whispering in your ear.  I knew when you spent two weeks in bed with a migraine that you were in way over your head.”

Wow this hit me really hard.  Anomaly…oh whatever!!  Honestly, it is a pain in the arse!!  So I have spent the last couple of days doing some in depth research, some re-evaluating, and some definite soul searching.  I have to return to school on the 17th, it isn’t really a choice but a must.  It drives me nuts….so how to overcome the hurdle.

Then I was talking to someone and they told me that I expect too much when it comes to relationships.  I don’t expect anything.  If you call and want to talk do it.  If you want to share with me..share.  If you want to spend time with me..then do it.  I have only one expectation in any kind of relationship…be honest with me.  I am not demanding, I am not jealous.  Life happens and you deal with it everyday as it comes.  “No, it isn’t anything you say or do that makes people think you have expectations of them.”  Then how in the hell do I put expectations on anything????

brain work

For years I have wondered why I don’t talk.  Why people tell me that I don’t tell them things that I swore I did.  I had taken John into town to the store the other day and we were driving home discussing what all we had forgotten at the store.  John says, ” I really need some black pepper to fill my shaker but I forgot to tell you while you were at Kroger’s.”  I told him that I had gotten his soda’s in the store but that I had forgotten to get Daddy’s.  We drove a little further and I finally said, ” I will get you some of those dollar Pepsi at the dollar store.”  He laughed and said, “huh?”  I said, ” well if we are going to stop at the dollar store for the things we forgot in town they still have those on sale.”  He looks at me and is laughing his butt off.  He said, ”  You know the older you get the more you forget that just because you can hear every thought that everyone else has does not mean that the rest of us can hear yours.”  This one statement lights a fire in me.  I don’t hear every thought from every person!!!    He laughs at me.  He says, ” You know most people have to know someone or touch someone to have a connection with them.  You never have had to have any contact at all to pick them up on that radar of yours.  Even when you were a little kid, you did this.  You were such a quiet child, you didn’t talk much but you seemed wiser way beyond your years.  You seemed to be a human sponge with everything and everyone that you came in contact with.  I knew long before we ever married that you were something of an anomaly.  I knew that Texas Tech was going to drive you nuts by the size of the classes, that you would have a hard time concentrating on a professor when there were 500 other students whispering in your ear.  I knew when you spent two weeks in bed with a migraine that you were in way over your head.”

Wow this hit me really hard.  Anomaly…oh whatever!!  Honestly, it is a pain in the arse!!  So I have spent the last couple of days doing some in depth research, some re-evaluating, and some definite soul searching.  I have to return to school on the 17th, it isn’t really a choice but a must.  It drives me nuts….so how to overcome the hurdle.

Then I was talking to someone and they told me that I expect too much when it comes to relationships.  I don’t expect anything.  If you call and want to talk do it.  If you want to share with me..share.  If you want to spend time with me..then do it.  I have only one expectation in any kind of relationship…be honest with me.  I am not demanding, I am not jealous.  Life happens and you deal with it everyday as it comes.  “No, it isn’t anything you say or do that makes people think you have expectations of them.”  Then how in the hell do I put expectations on anything????