Not a Shred of Energy Left

Today is just one of those busy, busy days. No time to do anything, yet there are a million things to do. Writing should really be on the bottom of that list…but here I am. Amongst getting the animals taken care of, the succulents watered (which then turned into cleaning the dead stuff out of each pot, and replanting half of them), filing paperwork which has been piling up since early April, doing laundry, etc, etc…I walked past a mirror and thought I should really put on some makeup. I would sure feel better if I did. Most days I don’t care either way, but there are those days where I just want to feel prettier. So, as I walked into the office to start on my mountain of paperwork, I decided If I can’t take 10 minutes out of the day for myself, I have a serious problem. So much of our life is spent going, going, going, never doing what we want, but always what we have to. I truly wanted to put on makeup, so I did. Now when I hustle past a mirror for the rest of the day, at least I won’t look as tired as I feel. Loving yourself is highly underrated.

So, between filing and doing the laundry, I write. Then go back to filing, logging expenses, and once again I write. Just finished emptying the shredder. So…yeah…the shredder. This piece of equipment seems to be a silent battle between husband and I. But I think he’s winning the Lazy Man game on this one. We’ve gotten to the point where we just put the paperwork that needs to be shred on top of the shredder. Today, I finally decided to get rid of that pile, only to find out that it’s so full, that the paper is starting to back up into the blades. There wasn’t even any movement in the see-through window on the front. Yeah, it’s so jam packed, that it’s not even compacting anymore. But that means I have to take the lid off and risk a paper confetti explosion. FML! Now I know why husband started laying papers on top (I just followed suit). He didn’t want to be the one to empty it. I see what you did there, husband. One point for you. I go downstairs to grab a large trash bag only to get sidetracked with flip-flopping laundry. Maybe subconsciously I’m just trying to prolong the dreaded deed. So, I get the trash bag and confront my nemesis. How to get the top off, without making a mess? I had to inch it up and try to tilt entire container over the trash bag, without actually letting it fall over. That would just have resulted in a mess that would make me cry. I finally got the top off and gently placed it inside of the bag. Now I’m digging paper out of the blades…for days! Holy crap, I had no idea that much paper could be inside of the lid. When I finish that, without even cutting myself (it’s a miracle!), I dump the rest of the container in the trash. A 13 gallon trash bag is now half full, but I smile when I look at the now empty shredder. I feel accomplished. It’s a good day!

The paperwork is finally filed and I’ve logged the last expense on my spreadsheet. But it’s now already 6pm. Where has this day gone? Time to head downstairs and vegetate on the couch. I think I hear a book calling my name.

Peace out!

 

Hello…It’s Me

I’ve been asked by my BFF to “on your blog introduce yourself as you are now, upload a photo of something you love, tell me three things I should know about you.“

 

Well, here goes.

My name is Birdie (my BFF thinks Grumpy McGrumperson is more fitting), I’m 51 years old and my life is awesome! I’ve been married for 26+ years (to Glenn), have a son (Max), stepson (Steven), daughter-in-law (Mikayla) and two amazing grandkids (Leilani & Ronan). I work for a mission organization and have been with them for 11 ½ years. This job has allowed me some amazing travel opportunities, of which Africa was by FAR the most awesome place EVER! In February of this year, we opened my dream business. We are running a successful Airbnb vacation rental in our guest apartment below our house. We are located on 12 acres right on the Bear River. Last year, we spent 8 months renovating our guest apartment into a hobbit house theme. I’m very proud of what we accomplished! The Little Hobbit House is truly a dream-come-true.

I’m uploading a few pictures…just because I can. Of course I’m going to post a picture of my husband, since he’s the cra in my zy. Or is it the other way around? You decide. And of course, my doggy soulmate Keona. She’s been my shadow for the last 9 years. Can’t imagine life without her.

Hmmmm…three things people should know about me? That’s a bit more difficult.

1. I love the outdoors, especially in cooler weather (I don’t do well in the heat). I find every excuse possible to be outside. Indoors is of no interest to me.
2. My house used to be called “Birdie’s Zoo”. I’ve had some of the most bizarre animals. I’ve had mice, hermit crabs, birds (used to breed parakeets and cockatiels), dogs, chickens, a snake, and many more. I actually bred veiled chameleons once. That was WAY before the internet, so I had to do all of my research through books. Very time consuming. Animals rule! If I had my way, I’d have a few goats. Husband has already squashed that idea. According to him, goats cause cancer. LOL. What a crackhead!
3. I secretly wish I could sing. I honestly can’t carry a tune in a bucket. At 4 years old, my son told me one day in the car “Mommy, please don’t sing. It makes my ears hurt”. Thanks pal. I needed that vote of confidence. So, for now (and always), I sing (and I use that term loosely) in the car when I’m by myself. And should my ears start to hurt, I will stop.

I suppose I’ve given you enough…for now. Happy blogging, everyone!

 

 

98 Years Young

Carmen – my mother-in-law. She is 98 years old, feisty and definitely has a blog-worthy personality. I thought I’d share a few tidbits here and there, giving you a glimpse into her world. This isn’t anything new by any means. I’ve been texting my BFF for YEARS about all the crazy stuff that unfolds when I’m around her. The things she says and does make your head spin at times. A few years back, when she still lived in Southern California, we had to take her to the medical supply store over an issue with a commode she purchased. And the ENTIRE time on the drive there, she was royally pissed off because she forgot her cane at home. Not because she needed it to walk with, oh no, but because she wanted to beat the guy at the store with it. She was raging mad that she’d left it at home. And after having to listen to her rant about that for 20 minutes, we find out he wasn’t even working that day. Lucky for him. LOL

We moved her up to Rocklin a couple of years ago into a senior apartment. She lived on her own until in March 2017, on her 98^th birthday, she was taken to the emergency room via ambulance because she couldn’t breathe. After all the tests were run, it was determined that she had fluid on her lungs and congestive heart failure. She couldn’t understand why. We tried to gently explain to her that her heart was old and tired. She kind of balked at that, as if that scenario was hardly plausible. *sigh*

So, after her stay at the hospital (4 glorious days she kept threatening to leave), she was immediately transferred to a skilled nursing facility (against her will, she is sure to tell everyone that will listen). Here she now spends her days, discussing all of her dislikes, aches, pains and general complaints about life with like-minded individuals. It’s a joy to sit back and watch it unfold sometimes. Other times, it just drains my brain. I honestly don’t ever want to get that old. Shoot me! Please!

Seriously, they beat on each other! It’s like they are geriatric octagon cage fighters! I always say that if you were to make a soap opera about what goes on there, no one would believe it. “The Old and the Forgetful” ”As the Walker Squeaks” “All My Strained Peas”

At her age, you’d think that her mind would be going…well, it is…slowly. But not according to her. Oh no, no, no. Just ask her. She’ll tell you. Everyone else is crazy, including the staff. Oh yes! They are sometimes the biggest nut jobs of all. At least, that’s what she tries to convince us of. She will literally smack talk about someone that is standing right in front of her, and she honestly thinks they can’t hear her, just because she’s not making eye contact with them. Some days I just want the ground to open up and swallow me. Gahhhh! It’s so embarrassing! And when I tell her to be nice, she comes back with “Well, (so and so) is just nuts anyways!” Good lord! They’re right here! In front of you! But it doesn’t seem to faze her at all.

A few weeks ago, Carmen almost went to blows over a remote control. I seriously thought she was going to smack the nurse. She already has one strike against her. She can’t afford to get kicked out of the nursing home for another physical altercation. So, that one had me on edge. Good thing Glenn talked her down. He has a way of doing that. Me…after 28 years of being on the receiving end of her charm, I’ve resorted to just rolling my eyes and wanting to put an instant stop to the nonsense. Honestly, it’s like dealing with a toddler all over again.

I’m sitting here, thumbing through texts between me and my BFF to jog my memory of various “incidents”.

March 17, 2017

BFF: How’s Carmen

Me: Some good days, some bad days. Last night she was in rare form. I tried not to laugh at her, but it was difficult. Some of the stuff that was shooting out of her mouth was so ridiculous, I was crying laughing.

BFF: OMG

Me: Dude. You have no idea. I was trying so hard not to laugh, that it was actually painful. And Glenn kept giving me weird looks because I’m sure the conversation was not very comfortable for him. She was talking about her bodily functions again.

Oh yes…the “bodily functions” conversation. They are my FAVORITE! Ugh

April 15, 2017

Me: According to Carmen, the people here all have brain problems. They are “coopy”. I’m guessing that’s a combination of cookoo and loopy.

Also, her walker must be a piece of junk, since no one has taken it. Everything here is a conspiracy theory.

Yup, that’s how the wheelchair rolls. Everyone is out to get everyone else. Everyone is a thief and a liar. And now we have to be so careful in how we word things, as to not get her going on one of her rants. Nowadays, when things start to go sideways, we just change the subject. That means we really have to have a lot of tricks in our bag. You miss a beat, and she’ll leave you in the dust. You’ve got to cut that crap off at the kneecaps before it gets out of hand. We learned the hard way. Too often we’ve made the mistake in asking her to explain her side of things to us. All that does is open the door to an avalanche of drama that just escalades into a pile of you-know-what. I’ve walked out of there mentally drained. It’s exhausting to have to dodge those kind of bullets for an hour or two. But we are learning…quickly.

And then there are those days when she’s riding high on cloud nine. She cracks some funny jokes too. It makes me laugh when she’s talking about someone and says “I don’t know why she’s tripping”. Ha Ha Ha! Yeah Carmen, I don’t either.

One day, Glenn and I took her to sit outside for a while. Not sure how the conversation got on the topic of a farm. Carmen grew up on a farm in Kansas and Glenn was telling her about our chickens. Then he says to her with a total serious face “I tried to milk a chicken the other day, but I don’t think I did it right. I couldn’t get any milk.” OMG! The look she gave him was priceless. She says “What are you? Crazy? You can’t milk a chicken! You only milk cows…and maybe goats. You’re nuts!” Then it took us a while to convince her that he was just kidding. She still wasn’t sure about his sanity.

We love her and are dealing with the challenges of an aging parent the best way we know how.

So, stay tuned for upcoming snippets of Carmen’s life. I will do better in documenting some of the funny (and bizarre) stuff that happens in her world and share them with you.

The Confusion That Lies Within

I’m mostly known for my off-kilter humor, saying what’s on my mind, shooting off my big mouth (that clearly has NO filter), and generally not caring what anyone else thinks. But what the majority of people around me don’t know is that I am incredibly spiritual. I’m not talking about the “burning incense and seeing things” kind of spiritual. I’m talking about my deep, intense love for God. From an early age, I’ve always found myself drawn to talking to Him. Taking all of my questions and concerns to Him and knowing full well that He would always be there for me.

It was clear to me from childhood that I was not like other people. Making friends never came easy. I was always the odd one in the bunch (still find myself to be the same today). Each and every single year in school, I was the one that had her yearbook full of “Wish I could have gotten to know you. Have a great summer.” And I’m thinking to myself “I’ve been sitting next to you ALL YEAR!!! Why do you wait until now to “want to get to know me”? But, I regress….

Through all of that, I knew I could count on God. I have memories, clear as day, from when I was an early teenager, when I would question things and I knew the answers I received came from God. Even in my darkest days, I knew He was there. I wandered away from Him for many years in my late teens, through my 20’s and into my early 30’s, but looking back I can see that He never left my side. The only question I’ve asked Him as far back as I can remember, it this….”Why do you love me?” I don’t like myself. I really, truly don’t. I want to be like others. Always have. I don’t want to be loud and boisterous. I want to be quiet and respected. I want to be memorable (in a good way) and have people remember me. Let me explain….

I do know that I’m not memorable. I say that, because it’s true. People just never remember me (unless you count the times when people re-hash the stupid stuff that has come out of my mouth). Only recently, I was standing with some friends as a spectator at the Western States 100 run. One of my friends was stopped every few feet by different people she knew. I was telling her that that NEVER happens to me. “I’m not one that anyone remembers”. She thought I was exaggerating. At that exact moment, one of our long-time friends walked up and started talking to us. He never even acknowledged me. I turned to her and said “You see????” Even then, he just stared at me. It wasn’t until I said “Hey! It’s me! Birdie!” that he even recognized me (apparently it was the sunglasses and the hat, or something something something. Whatever!). Seriously, we’ve run races together, hung out and basically are not just distant acquaintances. Yup it’s a fact, I’m not memorable.

There are certain personalities that people are drawn to…I’m not one of those. My husband on the other hand is a people magnet. I suppose that’s one of the qualities I love so much about him (and I’m jealous of him for that too). As for me, I can start telling someone something, get cut off, and no one ever asks me to continue my story. Obviously, it wasn’t that interesting to begin with. No one wants to know how it ended. Because of that, I make an extra effort to have people finish telling me what they started. Not only do I truly want to know what they were trying to say, but I think it makes people feel loved and respected. At least that’s how I would feel. Maybe no one else sees it that way. But I do. My brain has it’s own way of working, I suppose.

So, I ask God why He made me that way. Why can’t I be someone that people are drawn to? Why, why, why? The answer I keep getting is “Because I love you just the way you are”.

Why God, do You love someone that says the wrong things all the time? Why do You love someone that acts so un-Christian more times than not? Why?

It’s really been only in the last month or so that I’ve found at least some answers to those questions. What I’ve found is that I shouldn’t be asking WHY He loves me, instead ask Him to help me love myself AS He loves me. I still haven’t figured out how to do that, but I’m looking at myself from a different perspective now. My mom used to say “God doesn’t make mistakes”. Therefore, I can be certain that I am the way I am, because that’s how He wants me to be. He understands when I tell Him that I don’t agree with Him. He already knew that about me. He made me that way.

I am hoping to fully understand what He sees in me and then use that knowledge to live a life that will put a great big smile on His face by being the perfect loud, eccentric, weird lunatic he created me to be.

Someday I want Him to say “Well done, my faithful servant”, or in my case “Well done, crazy chick”.