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Showing posts with label Good Times. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good Times. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 6, 2022

# 580 - Introducing "Boots"

Living on acreage takes a lot of work, and we've incorporated a big change to BootCreek Farm this past week. 

We don't have many animals at this time, mostly chickens, but we have a good deal of acreage to maintain.

Our homestead is comprised of gentle rolling hills with a spring fed creek, open grassy areas, but the majority of our land is dense forest. That's because we live in the midst of the Big Thicket of Texas.

The grandkids love our backyard.

We've had this acreage for over twenty years and have lived on it full-time for the last nine. 

First, I thought I better clear this up. My husband has had many blog-nicknames throughout my years of writing, going from Deputy Dave... to Sgt. Dave... and now to his last... Pappy. 

Likewise, these days I've transformed into Lana-the-Nana. I still go by Lana, but answer to either. Who could've imagined this journey would've led me to writing as Nana?

Okay. Proceeding.

Since I've got a lot of catching up to do, I need to get through this next part. It's a heartache. 

Nearly a year ago, on October 31, 2021, we lost our beloved Howdy, our full-blooded black tri-color Australian Shepherd. After twelve years of loyal friendship, fun, and perfect guarding, we had to say goodbye as he naturally passed away here at BootCreek.

Howdy brought us much joy.

For me, Howdy brought increased safety, guarding me, diligently. When working outside in the yard, he would sit like a sentry, his back to mine as he watched my back, literally. Nothing got past him. He could sit for hours in guard mode, sharp eyes roaming the land as his ears remained folded back to listen for questionable noise.

A "working" breed, he'd encircle me to check all vantage points, always settling to watch the direction my eyes couldn't face. If I changed direction, so did he. An Aussie's instincts are uncanny. 

When he began to weaken, he struggled to continue in his same way, and it was heartbreaking. His strength made it even more difficult to say goodbye as he faded day-by-day, refusing to give in. He didn't want to stop protecting those he loved.

No photo description available.
Howdy's final days.

Over his last two days with us, Pappy would pick him up as if his arms were a cushioned forklift, and he'd gently move him, offering him the highest dignity for as long as possible. He gave loving tenderness to his buddy, doing everything for him while always assuring in a soft voice, "I got you, Bud."

It reminded me of how I cared for my mother as she died, thinking it an honor. To love another on that level is a beautiful experience.

During the last two days of his life, Howdy couldn't move on his own any longer. I watched my husband extend heartfelt care to Howdy, and it squeezed my heart.

I tried to help with certain unpleasant tasks, but Pappy refused and firmly said, "Don't worry about any of this. I'm doing it for him."

A few years ago, I caught rare moments of
Howdy allowing himself to be held.

We had three grandchildren at our house the day Howdy died. Of all days, it was Halloween, a day when we had big plans with costumes ready for the Trunk or Treat that evening at our local church and had to wear a real mask of happiness, for the sake of the kids.

Some things you can't plan, reschedule, or dodge. We'd lived with Howdy's ups and downs, and we'd hoped he had a little more left in him to give the kids time to leave before he passed but apparently, he felt fulfilled enough with them here to let go.

Despite the life-changing transition occurring, I did my best to give the kids a "normal" day, even though they were confused about Howdy nearing the rainbow bridge.

Whether new life has arrived or one is departing, we must keep going.



On Howdy's last morning with us, Pappy carried him outside to lay him on the soft grass in the backyard, a perfect spot for him to watch the three grandkids... one of his favorite things to do. And then Pappy rounded the edge of the forest of our backyard to finish digging Howdy's grave and then he returned to the back deck to finish constructing Howdy's coffin.

Heavy-hearted tasks, indeed.

The sun shone bright as a cool breeze shook leaves loose, and they fluttered to the ground. The forest responded to the changing season with soothing sights and sounds.

Ah, all of life does have its seasons.

I stood on the back porch and watched the children encircle him. They sat on the grass next to Howdy and softly stroked him while telling him through tears how much they loved him... saying their goodbyes. I had my cell phone, and through my own tears, I captured the moment.

Later, after an early lunch, I settled the kids down for quiet time and then went outside to sit on the front porch by myself, thinking of how our lives were about to significantly change. 

That last year of Howdy's life saw an evolution of him going downhill. He could no longer devote excessive energy toward all the things he'd once loved. Most days, he still walked around the acreage to mark his boundaries and to bark once or twice at whatever needed a reminder to stay away, likely coyote or fox.

It wasn't easy to watch him deteriorate. And now, I sat on the front porch trying to unravel churning emotions.

With loving action, Pappy carried Howdy out to the front porch and gently laid my boy on the floor of the porch next to me. By this point in his last day, he couldn't even lift his head. I cupped a hand against his head as his big brown eyes gazed up at me. I kept my hand on him, assuring him he wasn't alone. I was there.

My in-laws learned he was near the end, so they stopped by for a few minutes, each coming up to the porch to give Howdy their love. 

My father-in-law pressed his 84-year-old hand to Howdy's head, "You did a fine job, old boy, a fine job."

My mother-in-law fought tears. They loved Howdy, too. It was a five-minute visit. Before departing, they both told me he'd been the best dog they'd ever known.

Now alone on the porch with Howdy, I noted that he never whimpered nor whined. If he were in pain, he refused to show it. His eyes wore an expression of resignation, as if he knew the curtains of life were drawing to a close. We shared many long moments of gazing at each other... I purposefully let loving thoughts flow from me to him during those quiet times.

Shepherds can get something similar to MS when they reach ten-plus years of age. The veterinarian believed this was Howdy's diagnosis. He lived two years with on and off symptoms of declining health, but there were surprising days when he would wake up to bounce around as vibrant as a puppy, and we'd have wide smiles full of surprise and joy.

Conversely, there were devastating days came when he couldn't walk, but we'd pray the next day would find him running around like normal. We quickly learned that any athletic moments would likely lead to bad days, so we had to put away the tennis balls and keep him distracted from overdoing it. Anyone who has had an athletic bred dog understands what it means to hide all the balls around the house. It's not good. 

No matter, his rebounds were inspiring.

On the porch that last day, I fought a primal urge to plead with God for another rebound. I wanted to believe this wasn't the end, but my heart knew otherwise. I sensed we had mere hours or minutes left with him. 

Instead, I followed a more powerful urge to express my gratitude to God for giving us generous time with one of His precious creations. We'd enjoyed more than a marvelous decade with him. 

I thanked Howdy for his life of loyalty. I had yearned for such loyalty, and he gifted it to me.

So, we spent our last moments together on the porch with love. 

I bent down and told him, "I love you. I'll always love you."

I told him I was grateful to him for keeping me safe all the years of his life.

I assured him that he would remain an unrivaled companion. My most stoic and loyal guardian.

Howdy at the lake at the back of our acreage.

Through tears, I told him that I considered him one of my children, but he'd oddly surpassed me in age to become a wise old one. For many years he'd been extremely athletic, far exceeding our expectations with endless energy, agility, and strength. Howdy lived a vivacious life, and now his face showed strands of white hair to mark bygone youth. I dreaded goodbye.

After a good while outside, Pappy walked out to the porch, wanting to bring Howdy back inside since the air was cooling fast. I got up and went to our bedroom to lay down with the kids who had all miraculously fallen into a deep sleep. Yes, we needed a nap to get through this day of enormous challenges.

Less than ten minutes after I'd squeezed into a small spot on the king-sized bed with the sleeping kids, Pappy opened the bedroom door, took a few steps toward me, anguish marking his face as he mouthed, "He's gone."

The shock of hearing what you'd expected to hear is unexplainable. That second of time cannot be anticipated thoroughly enough to buffer you from the pain of loss.

I rose from the bed and went to see and bury our boy as the children slept with sweet innocence, protected from seeing the worst of our grief consuming us.

There were many years when it was just me and Howdy at home together in the suburbs of Greater Houston. The kids had gone off to college, Pappy still worked in law enforcement and wasn't yet able to retire, and my business life had slowed. During those years, Howdy kept me company, and I did the same for him... using a wall in our living room to throw a hard ball and he'd catch it on the rebound with powerful accuracy.

I used a scrubbable paint for that wall, and it worked beautifully for both of us between ball-playing stints outdoors. My dad LOVED that wall.

On cold days, I worked at my desk and he laid across my feet, keeping me warm and comforted. I always felt him leaning against me.

And then Sgt. Dave retired to become a full-time Pappy when we moved to our acreage to build our home. When that happened, Howdy must've decided Pappy now needed his undivided attention, so he stayed near him throughout each day. If Pappy went outside, Howdy went outside. If Pappy worked on our acreage, Howdy tagged along to watch his back.

But if I went outside, Howdy never let me go alone. If I headed outdoors, I became Howdy's first-choice because he needed to do sentry duty. A visible short battle would wage within him as I headed for the back door. His head would swivel toward Pappy and then toward me. No matter how worn out or comfortable he might've been, he always elected to get up, to follow me, and stay by my side as I pittered around outside or weeded the garden.

Having a dedicated guardian at your side provides a level of comfort that cannot be beat. We live in the middle of a forest, yet I never worried with Howdy by my side.

I loved Howdy's hugs.

It gave me incalculable comfort to know Howdy would've instantly charged toward danger. There's no doubt that he would've battled to the death to protect any of his flock. He especially protected me and all the children in the family. The men in our family could NOT roughhouse with the kids because Howdy couldn't distinguish if the children were in real danger or not. If he sensed the kids were in danger at all, he would go into action to put a stop to it.

All of us appreciated his proactive guarding. Both of my son-in-laws have been the recipients of Howdy's warning nips to stop playing the part of a monster chasing the kids while growling, "I'm going to get you." 

Well, the "monsters" didn't get the kids because Howdy got the monsters first.

These two good fathers were never angered over Howdy's guard duties because they respected the fact that he acted on behalf of the children, not afraid of grown men charging after the children. And he could've full-out attacked the men, but he'd simply run up and nip as a test to see if he could detour their behavior. If not, there's no doubt that he would've gone in for a full effort to protect the kids.

We always knew that if ANYTHING or ANYONE came out of the woods with an intent to attack or drag away a child, Howdy would immediately go into action to protect them. He was a formidable guard. He had the capacity to make split decisions on his own and go into action. That is a priceless trait to have in a faithful friend.

Having a formidable looking dog is great, but having a dog who watches, judges, decides, and acts to protect his own is a priceless trait, indeed.

Losing Howdy hurt, but I was comforted by the thought of him and my father being together. My Dad died the year before Howdy. They sure adored each other.

Dad and Howdy in a joyful greeting.

It's nearly been one year since we lost Howdy, and I'm a mess as I write this post because we've added a male puppy to our home.

We could NEVER replace Howdy, but living on all this land means we need a good male dog. Their marking of territory sends a clear sign to predators that this area is spoken for, and if you cross this boundary, you subject yourself to the one protecting it.

In all the years out here with Howdy, he kept the coyotes at bay, and the fox didn't find it so easy to trespass, and any wild dogs stayed clear of our property.

In the near year Howdy has been gone, we've seen all the above encroach onto our land to the point they are now coming closer and closer to the house, more frequently. 

In fact, one day, I was outside and found myself eye-to-eye with a coyote about sixty feet away in my backyard. It wasn't afraid, but I was unarmed. I managed to get to back onto the porch and get inside to retrieve the rifle. Back outside, I had enough time to get into position to shoot as it finally bolted.

Then came a series of wandering feral dogs. We've seen strange dogs a handful of times out here, a rarity. A couple of times they were lost pets whose owners did show up to retrieve them, but when you have a strong male dog with good boundary marking, other dogs stay clear.

I truly thought we'd never get another male dog. We have two gals right now. The oldest is about ten years old. Gracie has strong behaviors that passed on to a puppy, and she learned many of her habits from Howdy, so her methods are partly an extension of his. I know the new puppy can learn much of the same with added training.

The best part about this puppy is that he comes from my oldest daughter's house. Her full-blooded Australian Shepherd had an unexpected tryst with a Weimaraner neighbor, and voila, sturdy puppies. Eight to be exact.

I didn't want another dog, so I avoided my oldest daughter as if she were the plague itself. This has become a family joke. I hoped Heather would find all the puppies their forever homes. And of course, I did see her several times during this timeframe, and the grandkids even came to our house for extended visits during those weeks, but I didn't want little temptations of all sorts in my face -- urging me to take home a puppy.

My patience didn't outlast anyone.

The fur-babies are no longer babies, but are now a couple of months old. My daughter's favorite remained one of the last to be claimed because she KNEW in her heart that he belonged to us, and apparently my husband and our daughter had formed a secret alliance of wills, conspiring to get the designated puppy over here.

Pappy and I are in a group text with our daughters, and Heather continually sent pictures and videos over the last couple of months to especially highlight this one puppy. I stayed strong. Sometimes watching the videos of the romping puppy with just one eye trained on the screen of my cell phone.

Nope.

And then we were home at BootCreek Farm one day when the thing we'd never had happen in all our years here did happen. Near the end of July, a trespasser showed up during the middle of the day, around 2pm in the afternoon. 

With multiple surveillance cameras trained upon the grounds with multiple indoor cameras pointed outdoors, along with other monitoring methods, we caught the trespasser's approach. This person breezed past multiple no-trespassing signs to meander through the forest -- our land -- toward our house. Most surprising, the trespasser walked right by the front steps of our house, and then turned to walk toward our BACK porch.

But, the trespasser took the time to approach one of the cameras, intending to steal it... and with hands on it... looked up and noticed more cameras capturing their actions. Did that stop the trespasser? No.

A documented meth addict has little incentive to stop them from deeds that might lead to another batch of drugs.

It took less than five seconds from the first notification of the trespasser's presence for us to fly into action, ready to respond and self-defend. Before the trespasser climbed the steps of our wrap-around porch, we were armed.

We are the Nana and Pappy a thief wouldn't want to encounter. 

It definitely wasn't a smart move to approach our house. I'll tell the entire story later, but this person did end up in jail.

On that day, our two female dogs cut loose while inside the house with us, but Howdy would've been a different story, if he'd been here. Howdy would've provided another layer of safety in a potentially bad situation. 

So, yep, we got the largest fellow of the liter, a robust little one.

When you live in the country, you are probably well prepared for such an occasion, likely better than the average person. Country people must be ready and able to confront and combat ill-intentioned individuals, out of necessity. Law enforcement doesn't have rapid response times in rural settings, but countryfolk usually have at least one strong, trained male dog ready to assist in guarding their property.

After this encounter, I did some hard thinking. We had considered moving this last year, maybe to Galveston, but with an unfavorable economy inviting inflation with soaring prices of basic essentials, we also watched local crime stats rise. This made the prospect of seaside living more precarious. And then we had other reasons to rethink moving.

Our property offers abundant fish and game with a spring-fed creek and lake. We don't have a vegetable garden this year, but for most of our life together, we've grown many of our own vegetables. Living in the country gives us a cushion against hard times. And our house is the place family and friends can come to, if the need arises.

Staying in the house-of-perpetual-construction means we needed another large, male dog. That's a mighty long commitment. 

The responsibility of having dogs is not something we take lightly, and my heart has struggled with this decision. I'm not one to let love in or out of my heart so easily.

This puppy will receive a lot of love and training. I look forward to resuming my vegetable gardening and other tasks around the house without having a rangy coyote sneak up on me, but I whispered to Boots, "You've got mighty big paws to fill."

He's trying.

Sunday, August 28, 2022

# 579 - Moment by Moment

I now have a new computer and am thrilled because my others had given me headaches when trying to write and post.

Things are changing in this part of my teeny world since I've finally purchased and am using my first MacBook Pro. I'm now on a steep learning curve and often veer off path as I try to figure out this new existence sans a PC.

As for living with Addison's, this year we've jumped back into traveling with an effort far bigger than a splash. I'll be sharing how we've experienced beautiful travels as Addison's is a concern along the way.

Nana & Pappy on another cruise to the Western Caribbean this summer.

No matter, for 2022, I've enjoyed beautiful days of immense adventure and other bed-ridden days where I'm content to binge some series on Netflix or Hulu. On the difficult days, I struggle, but I constantly make peace with my day-to-day physical limitation.

Adaptation is key to living a great life with Addison's or with any physical condition that demands your attention, whether it be sudden or a snowball sort of attention-grabbing health issues.

The days when there are only slight taps on the shoulder, "Excuse me, could you spare me a brief moment so we can avoid the brick wall ahead," are the best kinds. On those days, you're in tune with your body, and no sneaky-fox Addison's symptoms are pouncing upon you.

Here I am at the start of summer at 54. No makeup.
Just me with my art supplies.

Traveling can be a challenging time when you have Addison's, but I don't let it hold me back, until it actually pulls me down and my moment of choice has altered to a moment of adapting to what I MUST do to get through the worst of it.

I take decent care of myself, and I don't hold back seizing the day. And yes, that means confronting my health needs, being prepared, listening to my body, and knowing when to stop seizing and to instead wave the little white flag.

On the white flag days, I make a hasty retreat to climb into bed and allow my body to do the dance of calming rest.

I've lived with Addison's a long time and have had a rather joyful existence despite very critical times... a broken neck and other multiple surgeries that were about as high on a surgical-risk scale as you can get for a normal, healthy person, but I got through them with Addison's. 

There have been illnesses and heart-wrenching deaths of people I most loved, and I figured out how to get through it all... with Addison's pouncing on my devastated state of existence. Staying on top of my blood pressure, heart rate, medicine, and it can be a juggling act. Times of loss can make it extremely difficult to manage Addison's. 

We all walked to a special spot in Texas to spread my father's ashes. With my mother's.
That's Coco, his oldest great-grandchild walking in front of me.

In 2020, I lost my father, and I will admit that the year that followed his death put a strain upon my body as never before. His passing caused extreme stress, which made managing Addison's a warring time for my body.

There were many months when I had trouble walking... forget stairs... and I lived with nausea. I did take stress doses, but there is no easy way around the ups and downs that come with profound loss. It was an Addison's nightmare that I did my best to handle without adding stress upon others, but it was probably the most dangerous phase for me, other than my surgeries.

Dad is now with Mom who died in 2006 at 57-years-old due to breast cancer. Dad was 74, and I had selfishly wanted more time with him. He went to Italy shortly before he passed, spending a good deal of time there. I'm glad he did so much in life, but he's now moved to a new address in Heaven, again with so many people he loved. 

I'll write more about his passing later because my long-time readers know of my closeness with my father. I have been blessed.

My mom and dad when we lived in Scotland. I took this picture of them.

But the good days give me reason to savor each second of treasured vibrancy, whether it be from a sedentary position or with me dancing in celebration. I go with what I'm given. 

I barter with my body. I know, for the most part, about the precarious give-and-take relationship I share within it. If I don't listen to my body's needs as it carries a passenger I must address, then that passenger, Addison's, will rule the day... and perhaps more.

To get to my next best day, I've got to listen to the passenger inside. I have to stay on top of things to keep it quiet and satisfied. Sometimes it makes demands upon me that I cannot overrule, and this is when adapting is the key to living a great life. I refuse to hand over more than is absolutely necessary to this passenger.

That means I don't let Addison's own me. I refuse to let it hold my life hostage. When strong, energetic days are presented, I don't question it. On those days, I get into the highest gear allowed and tackle as much as I can for as long as I can.

Pappy with our two oldest grandsons & Nyms.

With Addison's, you never know how the next day might go, so when the good days come, you make it work for you. Those are often catch-up days. Those are the days when I am enthusiastic yet a microscopic part of me yearns for the pre-Addison days when I hadn't known high gear would become a rarity.

These days, I have leveled-out, for the most part. I do not have many high-gear days nor too many days of feeling dissolved, but both kinds of days do make their respective appearances here and there. 

The "walking through mud" sensation I began having when Addison's decided I was a prime vehicle for it to hitch a lifelong ride in... that sensation is still with me, more or less. Depending on the day, there is either thick mud I must press and battle to wade through with each step or there are energetic days when it's easier to move, but the mud then can fall upon me from the Heavens, threatening to press me to the ground. 

Having Addison's is indescribable, but when my blood pressure and electrolytes go out of whack, I can feel like a rag doll surrounded by mud. That's the best way I can describe it.

Sometimes my symptoms are in check with treatment and are barely noticeable, but I've never had a day when the disease is completely absent. And yes, I have to turn down more invitations than I'd like. I have to ration my energy. For me, it is more than a precious commodity.

If I want to show true love for my family, I've got to be real with my limitations yet not use the disease to bail out of life. The stressful things do take a toll, that's the entire nature of Addison's, yet I have to decide how much of a toll I can manage with medication.

On a recent cruise in May. At the "no choice" phase. I had to rest.

Sometimes I appear normal looking on the outside, and then I'll have a day when strangers reach out to ask if I'm okay or their eyes hesitate upon me for too long as their expressions reveal concern. Boy, I don't like those days.

My grown daughters understand that my body requires more rest than it once did, and they're totally onboard with normalizing my normal, and I love their own adaptability. I have daughters who are now amazing women, wonderful mothers, and we all treasure one another.

With my oldest daughter, Heather. 
I can't put into words what she means to my heart and soul.

We can never make it through photos without cracking up.

Regardless of what each day holds, I keep wading through the mud on the days when it is all but a brick wall, and I must battle to get to the bathroom. And like I said earlier, sometimes the mud moves from in front of me, changing consistency and coming at me from a new direction... falling upon me, like an invisible light rain that isn't actually light. It is pressing. It's a strange resistance when our body is affected by the worst of Addison's.

And as I age, now in my fabulous fifties, I find some things are harder because of Addison's, but the strange thing is that a lot of things are easier. Living with this passenger for over two decades has taught me valuable lessons. 

Me with my youngest son-in-law, Brice this summer.

This specific, unique disease has taught me specific, unique life-saving attitudes and behaviors. Those translate to prompt me to make the best actions for surviving the mud-slinging disease I've come to study, respect, and learn.

After all, my attitude is the best shovel one can own against this disease. Years and years ago, I thought Finding Lana would be easier after Addison's hailed me as its permanent ride when I was 33-years-old, but I've learned that finding my adaptable self is a lifelong journey. Addison's means various phases of life will require additional adapting to the disease... in many ways. I'll age into new issues, but Addison's always complicates matters, and I do not ignore that fact.

If you have Addison's or any other disease or condition that requires vigilant attention, I hope you never stop figuring out how to help yourself make it through days when the mud is packed around you.

This is a recent 24-hour time constraint charcoal
of my oldest daughter, from when she was a kid.

Take notice of your body and take NOTES. Figure out what makes days better and what makes them worse. Monitor your vitals, Juggle those medications to give yourself the best Addison's ever-changing self-treatment that you can muster.

I want others to know there are treasured lessons that come from great struggles, lessons healthy people are often ignorant in knowing. That's not a bad thing. But, living with such a struggle can provide rare Masterclass lessons in countless ways, giving you "new" eyes for seeing everything touched by life. 

My oldest grandchild, Coco.

My youngest daughter, Stefie, with her beautiful family.

My goofy husband to whom I've been married a LONG time.
We not killed each other, and the lack of bloodshed has been worth it!

If you can figure it out, tell me the good lessons - the surprising lessons - and the lessons you might not have learned without the boost from whatever it is that requires you to adapt.

Keep your inner shovel ready, but know when to set it aside and tune-out the world so you can endure the worst, whether the worst be minutes long or longer. How do you adapt and make life matter during those moments?

What matters to you? How do you provide self-care and self-nurturing.

For me, I take actions to make life worth living. I savor the small stuff for as long as possible and spit out the bitter as fast as I can. I make downtimes work for me, either through that tv binging, through writing, or through art. During those times, my passenger must stay seated and well-mannered because I'm still in charge.

Treating my in-laws to another late lunch.

How do you hand peace to your inner-self in spite of a raucous passenger? What is your distraction?

Live well, MOMENT-BY-MOMENT, no matter your speed!

***

PS: Leave a comment. I'll have to moderate it, but it will then post to the comments section for others to see and for me to respond to.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

# 541 - So Close to Our Country Home!

First of all, thank you to the sweet emails and posts about hoping all is well since I haven't been able to post in a while! Things are getting back on track. I had surgery nearly three weeks ago. I have been on a fast road to recovery, but things aren't going as FAST as I would really like. Typical.


The good news is, during my hospital admission, I learned that I am a year younger than I thought. The arm band showed my age to be 46. I argued with admissions who assured me the computer NEVER made mistakes and it automatically calculates a person's age by their birth date. I insisted that I was 47. Anyway, it turns out, I am 46. The people in admissions were laughing so hard with me as they said, "Congratulations on waking up today and discovering you are a year younger!"


And guess who turned 50? Sgt. Dave had a birthday and we celebrated a COUPLE of times! The best birthday lunch was when he got to be with our two daughters, Heather and Stefie, along with our beautiful 18 month old grand-daughter.


Coraline LOVES to give her Pappy the sweetest smiles EVER! She is a deeply shared delight of our hearts! The great thing is that Heather and Henry are expecting their second child...our second grandbaby! We are thrilled!


Anyway, yesterday we received our Pre-HUD statement, which is the accounting statement of all the closing costs and expenses for the construction loan to build our home. Those statements are always a tad nerve-wracking. Yes, we are getting there folks!

The below photo is SIMILAR to what we are building. We will have windows instead of the double French doors, but the Great Room area has a vaulted ceiling and the kitchen a low ceiling. Just like the below shot, our kitchen will see through the formal dining area to the living room. The floorplan is open and airy.

 
We should close in three weeks. Getting the Pre-HUD statement has been a bit of a shock, as it ALWAYS is for buying a house! But, frankly, we will be glad to have the write-off again!

Here is a better shot of the dormer windows we are getting.
We have lived in an RV for a LONG time, longer than we anticipated would be needed. Thankfully, we did buy a large RV with a couple of nice, large slide-outs to make things tolerable!

I cannot believe we have been so determined to live out our dreams of living in the country. I am thankful we didn't put it off until it became too daunting. We are old enough for it to be possible and young enough for it to be possible, kind of like a Goldilocks phase of life to make such a decision. No matter what, people should GO FOR THEIR DREAMS!

When our kids were young, we bought this acreage. For about 15 years, we enjoyed long and short-term visits to our country home, especially since we had a "retreat RV" parked here for a few years. In those days, we toyed with dreams of planting permanent roots here. As years passed, we began to seriously consider a permanent move to the land. The kids left home and we realized "home" had much more flexibility as empty-nesters.

Here is part of the land that is being prepped for the house.
There is Sgt. Dave, which shows the towering trees we are
contending with. One estimate for clearing this area for the
house is $18,000. Sure. HA! This shot doesn't show the
MASSIVE trees to each side. We do have TREES!
Sgt. Dave has been working for the past few months to get the home-site cleared of underbrush and small trees so we could decide exactly where to put the house and which large trees would need to be removed. The area had been so thickly forested that you could only see specks of sky. The ground was so covered in brush, clusters of small trees and vines that you could not walk through it without a machete. It sure looks different now.


In the picture below, you can see the area where the house will be built, which is just behind the lawn tractor. Sweet Gracie is walking with me through the woods. Behind her, you can see one of the really large trees we must contend with...we do have many very large trees that are extremely expensive to remove.

Gracie is enjoying the day in the woods with us.
The ground of this raw forested land has so many layers of composted material that you won't see a huge hole is in front of you. As Sgt. Dave was warning me of this danger, especially because I am naturally clumsy, he stepped right into one himself. This hole nearly went to his knee. This could have caused someone some real bodily harm.


We are building this house just in time to have extra space for our growing family! I am planning a fantastic little play space for the grandbabies, and I have more exciting news about this house, but that will come next post! We are going to have two guest rooms which will perfectly cater to our daughters and their needs as young mothers...from comfy beds to baby beds, comfy chairs for nursing and satellite tv...things will be comfortable. I don't want my daughters to have to haul all the baby things to our house, so we plan on having as much of it as possible already at our new house, ready to be used. I hope that will make their travels even easier to come see Nana and Pappy. Even though we sometimes feel ancient, out of shape, overwhelmed, under-equipped and completely nuts, we have realized through this process that we are much too young and have a much too involved, large family to embrace too much of a radical concept of "down-sizing" just yet. One day, we will indeed down-size, but I hope those days are decades away. These are the years we have more land, more dogs, more family members, more chickens, more activity, and more desire for uncramped space. But, our grandbabies will be a prior

After nearly two years in an RV, we are feeling the pinch for space, having moments of claustrophobia, and I am about to blow a gasket over not having a walk-in closet. Hey, I lived for years in Germany with a tiny RV-sized wardrobe since they do not build closets because they are taxed as if they are a separate room. I have now had about five years of adulthood with teeny closet space, I passed the test...it's time for the walk-in version again! For now, we need ample room to accommodate our daughters/grandchildren, our future, and our growing lives. especially since everyone is traveling a decent distance to be together, which means the house needs to be roomy enough for sleepy-heads.

I will laugh so hard when Sgt. Dave and I decide to spend most of our time on the wrap-around porch, but I think I might most enjoy sitting in the middle of the walk-in closet with a goofy smile.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

# 484 - God's Canvas - Storm Clouds

Living in the country and getting to experience a life with increased solitude and privacy is definitely good for the person who is not afraid of being in touch with nature, with themselves or with God. For me, I need a good balance of socializing combined with moments of being alone.

I guess the "alone" time is beneficial to me since I feel close to God when I am alone, and I feel His presence when I am in the midst of raw nature.


This week, storms rolled in, but the beauty that comes with a storm cannot be discarded from the experience of a storm. And as I looked to the Heavens and admired the clouds rolling in, I felt awestruck at the natural beauty that surrounds us.

Man cannot compete with God's beautiful, ever-changing works of art, always on display...free to behold. God holds a universal canvas in his possession, yet He shares its captivating elements with us, every day. He is a generous artist.

It's up to us to decide whether or not we will take notice of the beauty in front of us.


I notice, and I celebrate the beauty He unselfishly provides.

Friday, October 11, 2013

# 480 - Country Socializing & Country Peace

Taking a walk through the forest is always interesting. This week, we took the dogs with us on a walk and they were so happy that they wore big smiles.

Liyla and Howdy are my babies.


And, on our walk this week, we make a fun discovery. These bricks will hopefully be used for another project on our land


Me, my man and my dogs, walking through the tall grass and wild flowers; peaceful is nice.


Howdy loves play-time outside.


I love play-time outside as well. We both wear straw hats since we live in Texas and need protection from the punishing heat, yet the straw allows any breeze to flow through the woven fibers, adding to our comfort. Gotta have my hat.



In fact, last week I found a great place to sit on the lake and laugh with some friends AND get some wonderful food! The views are beautiful; it is probably going to be one of my favorite places to slow down, enjoy the water and to see some friends in a relaxed atmosphere.

In my ENTIRE LIFE, I've not been a person to go to a "bar" but this hang-out is an all-round location to sit with friends, you can have a drink if you wish, but most are ordering food and boaters can pull up. Since I'm from the Bay Area of Houston, this place definitely makes me feel more at home. I am adjusting to not living close to the bay, so getting some time on the water while sitting on this deck makes me feel a sense of relief.


However, on most days, I savor being at home. Some of the best days are when my husband and I go on a hike through several acres. This weather has been so nice, our walks are even more enjoyable.

We are settling into our new hometown a bit more. It's nice that we are finally making time for some fun, for some socializing because that is needed for a person to keep their sanity --- being with family and friends is important.

We are blessed!

Monday, August 12, 2013

# 463 - She Made It!

This afternoon, Friday the 9th, my youngest daughter, Stefie, graduated from college. She's only 22 years old and has accomplished a great deal, in spite of major obstacles and personal hardships. She's a fiercely determined young woman who tackled her studies with precision.

So, she's graduating at 22 years of age and this month she will also be starting classes for her Master's degree studies.

Stefie is purposefully driven and focused to build the life she longs to enjoy. I know she will get there. Good thing she's also enjoying the journey toward bigger and better things!


From the day I held her for the first time, I knew this child would bring more beauty and blessings into our lives.


And she has. This girl has been a joy to raise --- she has a loving heart, is sweet, and thoughtful. Plus, the way she decorated her graduation cap brought a chuckle to all of us, and the unique cap helped us to keep her in view during the graduation ceremony.


I'm Proud of My B.S.
After the graduation ceremony, she followed through with the tradition of dunking her ring, attached to the grad, into the San Marcos River that flows straight through the campus of Texas State University. We were cheering her on as she lowered with a splash into the river!


She will go far. Already, she's learning about success. Getting through four-year of college with honor grades is something to be considered a success. Starting her Master's studies at 22 years of age is something to be proud of, but she is simply happy to be working toward the day she'll be able to be a Child Life Specialist --- her dream job because it will allow her to help children in unique ways.

Brice and Stefie enjoying a moment of happiness together!

I know one thing more...she will be great at what every she chooses to do. That child of mine is amazing and I thank the Lord for letting us be her parents. I am blessed

 

Congratulations to my baby for her big day at the university --- earning the walk across the stage to be handed her degree.

And guess what she got from us for her graduation present? A .45 FNP, which she has already shot and four bullet holes go through a hole she's already shot out. She's the only one who has shot that gun, she loves it and handles it beautifully, so it's hers.


That gal is pure Texas.