What is it about a TV show, like the Walton’s, that can reduce me to tears so heartily. Is it simply the memory of watching it? Or is it the pureness of the message. After watching five more minutes of this, I know the answer is, the purity. For those of you who did not have the privilege of growing up watching this show, it was a simple farm family with a writer son and 7 other children and every night they said multiple goodnights to each other. It was morals and values and life lessons, because it really was life lessons. It was the story of a boy and he grew up to make a TV show about it. It is television at its best and I recommend it with everything in me. It’s like the perfect example of what a family should be. I think that’s when they invented the word…heartwarming. Kids nowadays don’t have anything like this to shape them. Nope, they’ve got Britney Spears and the Kardashians. Gotta give some credit to Justin Beiber though, he seems to actually care, decent kid. We’ll see what he does with fame. Whether he handles it or it handles him.
I read something yesterday about if you keep things for a rainy day, you are in essence telling the universe that you live in a world of lack, and therefore you will not have good financials. This is very true in my life. I have no money of my own. Every single thing I buy I rely on my husband. I’m just now getting to the point where I can buy a few things without telling him first. When my computer cord broke to show me what it would be like if I didn’t put out a blog, which I was wondering, I went to the store the next day. Fifty dollars for a power cord? $50!!???!!! I couldn’t do it. I texted my husband and he didn’t respond and that was way too much to spend without him being the one to suggest we spend it. It’s awkward, but it’s what I got.
Back to the hoarding…well, it’s not really hoarding, it’s more like not throwing away. We might need it…and usually in the end, we are right. So how does that play into the Don’t save for a rainy day theory??? From hay twine to unfinished knit or crochet projects… all of it gets used here. The unfinished wool type things become blankies to wrap a dead animal. The hay twine secures anything from a fence to a partition to a flytrap or a hang handle for garden tools. Boxes become garden compost and wire gets used in many weird and wacky ways.
I’m watching a movie now about mutants. These mutants are people with abilities different and further evolved than the average human. Skills, abilities, knowledge. People like that are scoffed at. Although, I must say that the times, they are a changing. I do some things, that would have been called not possible, and nobody is making fun of me now. They used to. They really did. Now, I can probably tell you, jeesh, hope I haven’t already…about my flu filters. That was their original name and I keep trying to call them filters now since they now cover so much more than the flu. They now catch anything, any bacteria or cancer or flu or infection that may harm me. I then periodically turn them into pure love and flush them thru my system by simply saying so, to myself. It feels like I’ve already told you this before but since I’m telling it again there must be a reason.
I follow intuition in every single aspect of my life. I remember when I was looking for houses in California, the realtor guy says…surely you’re not gonna buy a house based on a feather are you? I said, I just might, we shall see. Nope, not the feather house, the house with the bug on the front brick at the door. Ha! We found this place due to the many cardinals…they were following our search and the multitudes accompanied us down this lane, where God said, this is the Ark. And, the day we signed the papers a baby horse was born, awesome talisman. Whether or not to go somewhere, whether or not to buy something, or do something…all of this depends on my intuition, my tiny voice. I follow it from wake to sleep. Where is yours? Can you find it? Can you feel it? It’s in your belly or in an itch on your shoulder repeatedly or a facial twitch, but mostly, it’s the gut. The gut and the breathing and the tightness of feeling. It’s a pressure. An uncomfortable pressure on the soul. At the same time as I was thinking…what if we could fly…the TV says what if everything were a disaster….holy cow, and it turned out to be a commercial by the government to be prepared and ready. 🙂 Ready for what? Do you know something we don’t know?
Ye know…if we could just get the women to gather. To gather on the internet, and in person, all around the world. No, I’m not talking about the groups Vie seen on face book…I’m talking about truly connecting the women, to accomplish…I dunno…the world????? I don’t know what vehicle that would take…twitter, FB, Myspace…separate website…who knows…but if it could be done…oooooh, the web we would weave. Nightie night flower people. 1:45am, just missed the angels, but not, they are here at 1:45, like they were here at 1:44.
Well, one of the big Texas goat shows was this weekend. I’m really glad I didn’t go. I would have fallen in love with the buck who turned out to be the highest price goat of the show. He sold for $3050!!!!! When they posted the picture I was stunned, then the stunningness just continued. Turns out he is only a yearling, with horns the size of a 5 yr old. Then to see the price he sold at. Wow, well I guess the Never buy a lone goat thing doesn’t hold all the time. Not if this is an auction and not if a single goat can go for three thousand dollars!!!
Well, I told my husband I still want to go to the other sale. Not to buy, I already bought my prizes, but to learn more. Ha, ya, and I apparently already did a dumb dumb, by buying babies that I have not seen how their fleece grows out….but I am going to trust my judgment and my eye. The more I’m in this world, the more I learn, and the more I realize that some of my stock is just not up to par. I’ll give you an example. Choxie. Choxie has awesome curls periodically, some years are better than others, and she’s a good mom. I thought her 2 yearlings were looking good, out of Marshall, but as I looked at today’s photo of yearling Lily’s fleece to post, I saw kemp. Kemp in a yearling. Yikes. Kemp is long straight black hairs that make the fiber rough if you don’t pull it all out. That means that I do not want to breed Lily or Lila… or even Choxie anymore. SO, looks like my herd is about to drastically shrink when I get the nerve to do it. If I don’t find homes for them, they will have to go to auction. Gosh I’d hate that. Too bad I didn’t know what I know now, back then. Seriously, what to do with them…paid 3-400 for each. On one hand…that would say that a person should learn for a few years before buying…but its in the owning, that the learning happens. Catch 22.
We are back to the hot hot. Had to come inside after unloading only 4 bags and feeding 2 pens. Course I got it done, but with a long rest in between. Milly seems to have the hardest time with the heat. Every time I see her, she is panting. Opti was using the horse panels to scratch an itch. He sure gets in some funny positions when he does that…shoot, they all do.
Oh Lordie, it’s Saturday, which means I eat lunch in town and don’t eat dinner cuz I’m too full. Dang, whatever hubby is cooking for himself in there is smelling mighty good, and I’ll have to just keep smelling it, cuz he only makes enough for himself. Doesn’t usually bother me. Lol, oh well, I’ll live. On that note…that hungry note…Signing off at Curly Locks Ranch.