Desiderata

I love this prose poem by Max Ehrman. Written in 1927, it is every bit as pertinent today. Desiderata - from the Latin for "desired things". Happy Thanksgiving!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Finally posting about you, so now you can be happily enraged, Ms. gajillion stat hits a day.

To my regular readers, I apologize in advance for this diversion. Regularly scheduled blog programming will resume shortly. In the meantime, perhaps this will clarify why I haven't updated lately, just when actual progress is being made around the farm.

Dear girlfriend of the man I am not fucking (although at this point I might as well start - if I'm dealing with the bullshit I might as well have some fun),

You are everything I have spent my entire life deliberately not becoming. You have nothing to offer the world other than your vagina. Why are you so surprised to learn that a vagina is not enough to keep a man to keep you? Furthermore, no matter how hard you try to make it, 2+2 will never equal 5, yet 5 is the answer you keep arriving at about he and I. Some fine day, you will come to the realization that you single-handedly destroyed your relationship. Over absolutely nothing.

Oh, and big liberal props (NOT!) for the fact that you publicly declare yourself a "straight ally" of national coming out day, yet insult you direct at me is "frankendike". Now I'm all kinds of confused. Am I gay, or am I fucking your man? Because the two are mutually exclusive. And it should, but obviously doesn't, go without saying that if you are in fact a straight ally, you should not be using homosexual slurs as insults. Gay Rights 101.

Here are a few handy hints for a better probability of success (marriage, as defined by you), in your next relationship:

1) Avoid calling him nasty names, cursing him out, and other repeated put-downs in front of people. That way, when he initially confides his unhappiness in the relationship, the next wrongly accused other woman ('cause god knows it could never be your fault), will be less sympathetic and far more surprised. In fact, avoid name-calling in general, it's juvenile.

2) Have a job, or better yet, a career. Leeching off men is not sexy.

3) Men love their mothers. If you can't genuinely like the woman, at least suck up your senseless venom and be polite.

4) Men love their children from their prior marriages. Don't piss them off either.

5) Fachrissake, having a(nother) kid is not going to net you a trip to the altar. If it didn't work the 1st time, and it didn't work the 2nd time, I guaran-goddamn-tee it won't work a 3rd time.

6) If you do make a(nother) kid, show a genuine interest in the little (s)pawn. Spend time with it. Interact with it. Kids like that.

7) Porn is not sexy. Feminism 101.

8) Jealousy is not attractive. Nor is envy, nor is need. Confidence is (case in point=me!). Relationship 101.

9) Drugs are not sexy. If you can't deal with your current reality, either change it or get a proper prescription, there's no shame in that. And if you do get a prescription, don't abuse it (I'd like to give a big shout-out here to my ex-fiance). If you're not happy with yourself, you'll never be able to make anybody else happy.

10) If you really hate men, do everyone a favor and avoid them. You can't change them. If you genuinely liked them, you wouldn't want to try.

Hope this helps you in your future relationship endeavors!!!!

Powerful Mean Streak

I just came to the realization that I truly love my PMS week. I'm sorry beyond words that I missed out on years of PMS by being on the pill for the vast majority of my adult life to date. Figuring one week per calendar month since I turned 18, that's approximately 192 solid weeks of lost butt-kicking, name-taking opportunities. 192 unopened cans of whoop-ass. At least 192 people who pissed me off and did not have to answer for it. I regret it extremely.

I think I'm fairly fortunate overall in the period department, but I really hit the gold mine with my PMS. I don't break out and I don't bloat, I just get mean. Not threat-to-the-general-populace mean, just the very best sort of "you don't really think I'm going to let you get away with that, do you?" kind of mean. Note to any frenemies out there - avoid me the week of the full moon. If you don't, you will lose. The other three weeks a month I might let your shit slide on by, depending on how busy I am with other aspects of my life, but this particular week, not just no, but Hell No, you are not going to get away with that, whatever "that" may be.

So the way I see it, the pill is just another patriarchal ploy, designed to eliminate not women's fertile times, but rather women's PMS times. And we all fell for it. Boy did we get taken, again. Every time someone says "I must be premenstrual" as though it's a bad thing, men win. Every time a woman chemically neuters herself, a misogynist gets his wings.

I Might be a Redneck

Since April I've been living in a 29ft camper, parked behind my ginormous but completely gutted house. With five (yep, count 'em, 5, fem, cinco, cinq) dogs. But they're all little fluffy yappy things, so all together they don't even add up to one, say, german shepherd. Two of them are puppies and I have the half-eaten slippers to prove it. They're on my feet still, but could now accurately be described as "open-toe". I used to get a new pair every year from my ex's parents for xmas. LL Beaners, no less. Super-comfy. Anyhoo.

If you can rotate the tires on your house you might be a redneck. And while it's been fun to describe myself as trailer trash, and a great experiment in minimalist living, enough is enough already. Here's the visual:











Note that these pictures were taken when I looked at it, well before I moved in. Setting it up at the house involved things, such as cinder blocks and that cheap green wire dog fencing, that make it tres white trash. It's pretty awesome really. As an extra-special touch, I sometimes hang rugs to air on the cheap green wire dog fencing. My neighbors must hate me, because the view from their stately, columned front porch is my campsite extraodinaire. The only thing missing is a firepit, and if I had the time I probably would have one.

There will be no after pictures, so don't ask unless you're interested in buying it. Didn't think so.


























So what's a girl to do with not enough money and too much house and winter looming? Why, you make the mudroom into a studio apartment, of course! Pics and details to come soon, and I move in 10 days from now, but who's counting?

Dead Blog Walking

I'll post a real update this weekend, I swear. Lots and lots of updates. Do check back for all the latest on the house project, horses, etc.

Systematic Torture

I joined a gym near my office over a year ago. I've gone there to work out precisely three times. You don't want to know what that works out to in $ spent per visit. I've been keeping the membership current so that I have a place to shower when I move to the new house this spring, knowing I will not have the luxury of indoor plumbing for some time. But I'm well and truly tired of being a fat ass. So I decided to spend still more money to hire a personal trainer at said gym. I like her basically, but not at 6 o'fucking clock in the morning. I don't like anybody at 6AM, especially myself. I like me even less at 4AM, when sheer willpower is almost not enough to get me out of my cozy warm bed and out the door to pay for the privilege of being systematically tortured. Military school was easier than this. I want to be 17 again, and effortlessly svelte.

Reasons to quit; not getting up at o'dark thirty, procrastination is immediate gratification, really not a masochist, save the money, avoid seeing myself in gym's full-length wall-to-wall mirrors, to say nothing of the locker room.

Reasons to keep going; justification to buy new (smaller) summer clothes, of all the things I've lost I miss my waist the most, make it easier for my aged gelding to tote me around, get strong enough to start my blind mare under saddle without flopping to the ground the first time she scoots or spins, need muscles to build my new fencing, no longer walk miles in the course of a workday so must increase caloric output elsewhere, stop avoiding cameras, I miss my cheekbones and jawline, etc.

So I went. So I shall go again. And because she'll never read this: Patty, personal trainer extraordinaire; you're mean.

What Price Progress?

Baby steps at the homestead these days. I don't know what to throw money at first.

Do I buy a camper or try to make the mudroom live-able? Mudroom is cheaper, camper can accommodate additional people thereby increasing the pool of available labor.

Do I build a barn or buy portable stall panels to put up in the garage for now? Garage option is cheaper, and likely best, so long as I am not living in the adjacent mudroom. Barn would add resale value in the event I decide to throw in the towel, or the bank says we cannot borrow sufficient money to do this.

Do I rent a tractor or hire someone to run a machine to make corral space? Hiring a tractor is cheaper and I would have the machine for longer, but to hire a pro is likely more cost-efficient and would result in a neater job.

Do I splurge on RAMM Fencing? I think it would be the safest for Tag, but I don't expect these first corrals to be permanent. This is definitely what I want in the future, however.

Re-commissioning the well is the one item not in dispute, I need it to live there and to burn the brush I hope to get cleared next week. Well guy is coming out to evaluate on Wednesday, hopefully he can get the work done shortly thereafter.

Construction bids are coming in fast and furious, and all over the map. Eeney, meeney, miney, moe... Methinks a call to the building inspector is in order, to level the playing field somewhat.

Took a walk out to the back forty and found the old well that is marked on the plans. Shallow, hand dug, stone-lined and pretty. I think I will put a bench nearby and call it a reflecting pool.