I went four wheeling with my son yesterday. He rode me around the farm and I took my camera with me. There was a field full of yellow wildflowers that was so beautiful I had to make a picture of it.

 On the way back I made him stop again so I could take a picture of the view.

Thank you Lord for blessings great and small. For fields of yellow flowers and beautiful scenery.

My children are capable of utilizing three kinds of technology at once. They can talk on the cell phone, work on the computer and watch television. Come to think of it, three probably isn’t their maximum. I, on the other hand, can only handle one piece of technology at a time and sometimes one is too much.

For example, I was trying to write this blog but my granddaughter had left the television on and the remote was out of my reach. For awhile I tried to type with the television on but I was so distracted that I finally gave up, got up and found the remote. Ahhhhh…..silence.  I simply can not write when there is noise.

Don’t get me wrong. I love sounds. I love going for walks and hearing birds twittering (birds were meant to twitter-cell phones were not) I love hearing frogs croaking at night. I love hearing my neighbors rooster crowing. I especially love hearing my granddaughter’s childish laughter, there is no sweeter sound.

The problem is that my brain can only focus on one sound at a time and when I write I am so focused on the words that the slightest sound distracts me and I lose my place. Perhaps that is why I have to sleep with the roar of a box fan next to my head every night. It keeps me from hearing anything else and any other sort of noise wakes me up.

My husband thinks I’m crazy to sleep with a fan. In August we will have been married 29 years. You’d think by now he’d be accustomed to it. All five of our children sleep with fans too. He says I corrupted them. I don’t know what you call it but they are all fairly sound sleepers so I guess it helps, or they think it does.

Some noises I like. Sometimes I like quiet. One thing is for sure, I can’t blog with the television on. It’s just too distracting.

   Every year about this time I get spring fever. The weather goes back and forth from spring to winter and back again. I get a day of warmth and I’m feeling blissful just in time for it to turn cold and snow again. February and March are yucky months as far as I’m concerned. Rain, snow, small teasers of sunshine, then back to the rain and snow. Why can’t we do things the sensible way and have a nice, big, fat snow for Christmas and New Years and then skip ahead to April? This in between stuff is for the birds. I mean how am I supposed to know what to wear? I can’t keep running back and forth to the attic digging summer things out of storage for warm days. I guess I could wear shorts and a tee shirt with a winter coat. That way I’d always be prepared.

As long as I’m complaining (something I am really good at) I’d also like to state that I’m tired of my yard looking like a place to host a mud wrestler’s convention. No grass plus lots of rain makes for a very muddy mess. It doesn’t help that there are certain members of this family who can not back up and tend to go off the driveway into the yard. This makes tracks, ruts and yes, even a ditch or two in the yard. (Okay, I confess, I did it)

The dogs don’t seem to mind. They stay dirty and muddy and then manage to jump all over me and get me dirty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy spring is on the way. I just wish it would get her sooner rather than later. I’d like to skip all those irritating “winters” my grandmother could name. Every time there was a cold snap it was “Blackberry winter” or “linen britches” or something. I don’t want more winter. I want SPRING!

You can probably guess what the very worst diet is, and yes I know that “worstest” isn’t a word.  Tuesday night I went to bed feeling fine but sometime during the night I woke up with a funny feeling in my stomach that soon was far from funny. I’ll spare you the details but the toilet and I were best friends through the night and into the morning hours. That was three days ago and I’m still not eating.

Yesterday I managed a couple of popsicles and by bedtime I thought I felt well enough to eat a Klondike bar. Big mistake. I had heart burn the rest of the night and felt nauseous all over again. Today I’ve had a couple of crackers and a few bites of soup.

It occured to me that I had been wanting to lose five to ten pounds and since I haven’t been able to eat, I’m sure I’ve lost at least a couple, but man o man, this isn’t the way I wanted to lose them!

Besides the fact that I have no appetite (even cheesecake doesn’t sound good—-hang up that phone! Do not call Donnie Butler yet!) I also have no energy. Just getting dressed is a major event.

I have missed three days of work and not been able to play with Abby. Tonight I even missed a ballgame (I said do NOT call Donnie Butler yet–for those of you who don’t know Donnie is the local mortician—who once called my house at 6 in the morning and scared me to death (pun) because he’s the last person you want to have wake you up from a deep sleep with a phone call. He was calling to tell me my dog was at his house. I wanted to say, “Donnie, it’s six in the morning. I don’t care if my dog is on your roof. I’ll come and get him when I get up.” But I didn’t.

Anyway, back to my story. I couldn’t go to the ballgame so I got the computer and got ready to log onto the radio web site to listen and low and behold the internet was down! I was here by myself, mad, frustrated and still feeling sick. I finally gave up on the computer and went in search of a radio. I guess when we moved we haven’t unpacked radios because there wasn’t one anywhere. I called my husband at the ballgame, hoping he’d have a suggestion. “I’ll call you back,” he said. “They are playing the National Anthem.”  Big help he was. Time was running out. The game was about to start and I wanted to hear it! I grabbed my son’s truck keys, my bathrobe and ran outside in the 20 degree weather barefooted to his truck. By the end of the first quarter the Hornets were ahead, the truck was warm, and I’d curled up semi comfortably in the front seat. At half time I decided to play Let’s Hunt the Radio again. Believe it or not I found one in a drawer complete with earplugs. I took my bathrobe off and crawled back into the bed. Half way through the third quarter the battery went dead. Thank goodness Murphy (my neurotic cocker spaniel) can not repeat human words. He merely looked at me, sighed, and went back to sleep. Luckily I found a battery by the fourth quarter and I am happy to say the Hornets won! Monday night is the district tournament and I’m feeling a win!

Go Hornets! Go Hornets! Excuse me for a moment please. I have to go, if you know what I mean. 

It’s Friday and we are out of school again today. I’m not complaining. I love being home, but I’m starting to wonder just how and when we are going to make all of these days up. I fear the answer is we will be in school until June. Ugh. By the end of May I suspect that all these snow days won’t seem like so much fun.

While I’ve been snowed in I’ve been on the computer for hours a day. I know, I know. I’m addicted, but there are worse addictions. I’ve played on Facebook, worked on my blogs, sent emails. I even got my Kentucky Living column written and turned in early (that was a real shocker for my editor!).  Another computer past time is looking at beach houses. Usually every spring or summer we rent a house and take all the kids and some of their friends. We didn’t go last summer because we were building a house and hosting a wedding (whew, what a year). The twins have already been making plans for a Florida trip sometime this year.

So, while I’ve been snowed in and on the computer I’ve been looking at beach houses. I love the ocean and my idea of a perfect vacation is sun, sand and surf. I’ve often thought that if Kentucky just had an ocean it would be perfect, but so far I haven’t thought of a way to transport one.

 This time of year always makes me long for spring and summer and yes, the beach. I like a little cold weather, a little snow and then I’m ready to be done with it. The weather forcast says by Sunday it will be much warmer, in the 50’s. Of course this is just the end of January and February is usually more depressing than January. My grandmother used to caution me not to wish my time away so I won’t. But I do think I’ll wish for warmer weather.

If man can land on the moon why can’t televisions come with only one remote control device? Personally, I think turning televisions on and off the old fashion way was better anyway. It required exercise (minimal, but exercise) and there wasn’t the “where is the remote” issue.  Since we have recently moved into a new house my Tim-the-tool-man husband has splurged on new gadgets. Each television has two remote controls. Not only is it impossible to keep up with them, but when I find them they each have their own specific job and of course I can’t remember which one does was what. I think one turns it on and works the volume, the other works the channel. But I’m not sure. Then of course there is another remote for the DVD player.

HELP! I need remote training for dummies! Actually I’m not that addicted to television anyway. I’d much rather read a good book and thankfully they don’t come with a remote….now where did I put my glasses?

Why is it that things that taste so good are so bad for you? Donuts, brownies, cheesecake…….  I had cheesecake last night and today it was donuts that got me. Did you know that donuts have almost no nutritional value and are considered to be in the top ten worst foods you can eat? Saturday is the Pumpkin Festival so I’ll probably have a fried pie (or two). Well….. I’m supposed to have a couple of servings of fruit a day so I’ll make sure I get “apple” fried pies.

I absolutely love sweets. My mom was an expert baker and I developed a taste for anything with sugar on it or in it. When I was young I was tall and thin and I could pretty much eat anything I wanted. I’m still tall but the thin part is a memory. I have lumps and bumps in places that once were smooth. I look for pants with the stretchy waistband and material that has some “give” to it.

A friend was moaning about how much weight she’d gain and we agreed that it is much more fun gaining weight than it is trying to lose it.  Over the years the pounds have a way of sneaking up on you. Before you know it the needle on the bathroom scales doesn’t even slow down on the number where it once stopped.

There are mornings when I get up and put on a pair of pants that once fit and now won’t zip, that cause me momentary concern. Ususally I blame it on the drier shrinking things (hey, it really does shrink some things) and move on to worrying about something else. Most of the time I just thankful I’m healthy. Sure, I’d love to have the figure I had thirty years ago but I wasn’t satisfied with it then, so I probably would still find something to complain about.

Besides, I’m not much of a milk drinker and I need calcium. If I eat a couple of donuts then I’ll drink a glass of milk. Do you like the way I rationalize?

There’s tired, and there’s REALLY tired.  I reached the second stage of tired today. Monday I taught school all day and then sold concessions for three ballgames. I got home around 8. Tuesday, a repeat of Monday. That’s right—three more games only this time I worked the gate. I think they let me because when they put me back in concessions I sat on the floor, leaned against the wall and promptly fell asleep. At least I got to sit while selling tickets. Wednesday I had to be in Bowling Green after school to meet with the tile lady. After that I took my kids and granddaughter out to eat and got home at 10:30 last night. Today I was one tired puppy. After school I came home and fell across the bed for an hour and a half. I have now had a delicious (not) frozen entree that i zapped in the micro-wave. I’ve washed my face and as soon as I brush my teeth I’m going to bed.

I am definitely Bone Tired!

If you read my blog you know we have a mouse problem. Murphy, our Cocker Spaniel, is as close to a mouse alarm as I can have. Bill’s extremely allergic to cats so Murphy has been told to watch out for mice.  He went a little too far last week and got both front paws caught in a sticky trap.  Needless to say he went crazy! We finally got it off and he was not happy with us. So tonight Bill and I went to Wally World and bought something you plug into an electric socket that emits a sound that supposedly only mice can hear. They hate the sound and stay away. That sounds great except what about the mice that are already in my house. I worried that we’d plug the device in and crazed mice would start running out of the walls at me. So far that hasn’t happened, but I’ll keep you posted. At this house anything is possible!

Maybe it’s because we live in a large field. Maybe it’s because this trailer has lots of cracks and crevices. Whatever the reason I can not keep mice out. Have I mentioned that I am petrified of mice? Yes, this big, tall 52 year old woman is scared to death of the little varmits.  I have been known to grab a golf club (what else would I do with one…I don’t golf) and jump up in a chair and scream until someone rescues me. This morning though it was Bill that was screaming, or yelling. I ran to the back of the trailer to see what was wrong with him and he was dancing an Irish jig!

“There’s a mouse in my pants!” he yelled.

I ran the other way laughing so hard I couldn’t see straight. You see the mouse was in HIS pants, not mine. Now if it had been in my pants I would probably still be running and I wouldn’t look back.

I know there’s probably an animal rights group out there somewhere that tries to save abandoned mice and I’ll probably get hate mail from them for saying this but “I HATE meeces to pieces!” (Some cartoon character used to say that) Mice are disgusting little beady eyed critters that have the audacity to poop in all the wrong places and scamper around in my cabinets.

If I didn’t have so many dogs I would go buy ten cats tomorrow and move them in under my trailer.  By the way, if a mouse ever does get in my pants I’ll write you from my brother’s house because I’ll be moving in with him until our house is finished.