Quick, to the point?

I recently went looking for causes to follow, rather than the political b.s. on the television or the b.s.  in the sports I prefer.  I found so many, and now there is one here in our own country. 

To those affected by Hurricane Sandy, my thoughts and prayers are with you.  I have made a list of places never to live due to natural disasters or poisonous snakes, and I'm afraid the entire east coast just got looped into that.  But, in all seriousness, I hope for a quick recovery not hindered by political bickering or red tape. This is not the time for that.  This is not the time for another Katrina.

So, I generally try to avoid political messages.  I'll try really hard again.  In the meantime, kudos to those who don't care what party you are so long as we can work for a better tomorrow.  That is a principle we were founded on.  That is a principle we should all be able to agree on.  If not, then what does that say about us?  Just a thought, in an online world full of so many others.

BlytheLea L.E.

Skyfall

What is your Achilles Heel?  When you fall off the wagon of a diet, do you splurge on ice cream? Cake? Cookies?  Cheesecake?  Fried chicken? (Figured I should throw in something that wasn't purely dessert related)

What is mine?  Bread.

After ten days of healthy foods, with a brief track off for a free french fry, I suppose all that can be said is that I have fallen off the wagon.  It isn't unfixable.  My lunch and dinner plans are bound to be back on the straight and narrow, but now I have to wonder how long I need to eat well to counter for twelve hours of happy gluten gluttony.

First of all, there was the pizza I made myself.  The sauce was organic, low fat marinara with some browned mushrooms that I added, but I did put nearly an entire two cups on mozzarella on top. Dessert wasn't too bad, a slice of caramel apple, but then for breakfast, I fell off again.  How do you reward yourself after a job well done, or at least a job done?  Again, with the bread.  And so this morning, I had a cinnamon roll, maybe more than one.  Point is, by the end of the day, that Pillsbury packet of cinnamon rolls will probably be gone.  Like I said, will power is not my strongest suit, especially not when it comes to bread.

Does this mean I should have treated myself to a rice cake for finishing my project?  What would the point be in rewarding myself that way?  And when you fall off, do you fall off for a crumble or the whole slice?  I say, if you're going to do something, do it well.  Slices of cake, or in this case cinnamon rolls, don't fall off wagons every day.  I promise, truly, to get right back on tomorrow.  In the meantime, why waste perfectly good bread?  I'll just go on repressing my voice of reason, the angel on one shoulder can be silenced for twenty four hours, and the little devil and I can enjoy ourselves a little longer.

BlytheLea L.E.

P.S.  The Dixie Chicks theme is gone now.  I guess the sky would not fall for eating bread, but if nothing else, I love the song.

Sin Wagon

This particular title needs no real introduction.  Honestly, and so I give you Day 6 (it is day 6 isn't it?)

Yesterday, I was so optimistic.  The munchies were gone, I was feeling all healthful.  Wait, no, yesterday I got off topic, so two days ago I was feeling optimistic.  Still felt pretty good about everything through much of Sunday, but on my way in for a quick few hours of work, I happened upon a McDonalds Monopoly chit that said Free Medium Fries!!!  Did I stand firm?  Heck, no.

In my defense, the fries (and the large Coke) were the extent of my deviation yesterday.  Dessert here consists of fat free chocolate pudding that I have already made and dolled out into the serving sizes, which means I have four little cups of the stuff left.  It isn't great, but hey, it's chocolate.  So, I ate a healthy breakfast of plain cheerios and fat free milk.  Supplemented that with orange juice and a whole grain skinny bagel a few hours later.  Follow that up with organic spaghetti sauce, lightly browned organic mushrooms with garlic flakes, and whole grain noodles with a salad, and then I was left with dinner.  I knew I was going to make myself a sandwich after spending so much time, relatively speaking, on lunch.  I knew this, and I still had a few Terra chips left (shout out for Terra Chips).  Where, oh where, did that go so wrong?

The problem with falling off the wagon is that it makes you realize what you've just spent the last week forgetting you missed.  Those deliciously fried bits of potato, lightly salted, were addictive.  I spent the rest of my evening staring at the cupboards in a sort of mild grade munchy mode.  This was capped off by waking up at 11 and being starving to the point of near midnight snack   I have failed, how do I live with the shame?  The guilt?  Okay, so on a scale of one to ten, the shame is pretty low.  After all, who is going to report me to the diet police?   The dogs? I bought their silence with a few fries.  The guilt, now there is my Achilles Heel.  I can be Kipling's Cat, but if someone even whispers a few words faintly speckled with guilt, I'll cave.  Maybe that's why I try so hard to walk my own path.  If it's just me, then all I ever have to deal with is my own guilt.  That, in itself, is a pretty formidable foe, so isn't it better that I leave it only at that?

I cannot say I will double down on the healthiness because of my slip yesterday.  I have never had that sort of will power.  The best solution to all of my problems is what I am living with right now.  Deprive me of any other options, and chances are I can stick to a diet.  Except when I find a free chit for fast food.  Lucky for me, the other one is for a RedBox movie rental.  I'll just splurge then and eat popcorn. The kind with butter on it. Lots and lots of butter.  Oh well, no one said this would be easy.

BlytheLea

P.S. Anyone reading this who has a similar experience or just wants to share in my misery, feel free to drop a note.

Truth No. 2

Why must we be so afraid
and always so far apart?...(Dixie Chicks Day 5)

I don't know if it is the drivel I read or the pressures that have been apparent since a girl turns twelve, but I have to wonder why do we have to work so damn hard to make a man like us?  I'll grant you, I am not the fountain of experience here.  My dating experience is marginally greater than my experience with root canals, but everyday there seems to be some new article about how we women are somehow not going about the mating ritual properly.  I read one such article, something like "25 things men don't appreciate about our beauty routines".  Seriously?  They have none.  But as I went through all 25 reasons, the thought that popped into my head right after, holy cow, men complain a lot, was, why?  Why are we required to put on the mascara and control top tights?  Why is it we can watch a comedy where a man who is less than svelte can end up with the tiny twig of a leading lady?  Why is it we live in a world where old, even ugly men can marry supermodels but you never, ever see the reverse?

I am not on a healthy diet because I want a man to admire my new trim form.  I am on a healthy diet because that's all the food in the house.  Also, and this will certainly fall in the Too Much Information category, the healthy food is really helpful to my gallbladder.  After two and a half years spent trying to make it happy enough to warrant a slice of cheesecake every once in awhile, it seems I finally have.  Not that I can actually eat the cheesecake.  A. It would set back all my good eating and B. The $5 in my bank account until payday is really better served for emergency gas funds than artery clogging dessert.  Besides, if I think only Barcelona has worthwhile pain au chocolate, I seriously doubt I'll think the local grocer has cheesecake worth the risk.

And so in true Rambling form, I have to come back to the source of this morning's confusion.  Why?  Why, why, why?  Wouldn't it be better if we did all of these things because we wanted to?  Not because some guy somewhere wants to get laid?  Wow, I've deviated from the family friendly version today, my apologies, but point in hand, why can't we just be us?  If we want to eat a salad or a Big Mac, does that make us any different?  If we chose not to wear a scrap of makeup, are we wrong somehow?  And if a little more weight around the ribs was once the standard of beauty, think Botecelli's Venus, why is it now that we can't even wear a bathing suit in public without some nasty comment from a guy whose gut sticks out so far he can't see his feet?  I may work not to cave to popular image, but then is that a reason why my dates are fewer and further between than aforementioned dentist visits?  Or is because I'm just that particular?  Would I know a man to appreciate me, curves and all, if I ran into him on the street?  And if I did, and he asked me to coffee, does that mean I have to put on more than a few swipes of mascara?  Ah, Pandora's Box and a Catch 22 all rolled into one.  Are we afraid?  Of being lonely, or being loved?

BlytheLea L.E.

Love Don't Come Easy

"It's a game of give and take..." (Dixie Chicks Day 4)

Okay, today I had to work a little for the title.  There were several more depressing takes, notably Hole in My Head, but yesterday I think I might have turned the corner.  True, I was treated to a Starbucks mocha, but I had to share, and, well, when that happens, I usually end up on the losing end of the glass half full debate.

Anyway, lunch rolls around, as usual, I am starving.  This after writing yesterday about getting the munchies a mere two and a half hours after breakfast.  I had no hopes, whatsoever, but after eating my meal of a healthy pita pocket with lean turkey and swiss cheese with more Terra chips (I love Terra chips), I was prepared to crack and make another sandwich when it hit me: I was full.  The concept was so foreign I nearly made the sandwich anyway.

Surprised, but cautiously pessimistic, I waited this whole full thing out.  Oddly enough, dinner rolled around and I had only cracked for one of those individual pop corn bags.  (It wasn't really an individual bag, but I have yet to figure out this microwave.  Thursday, I burned the bag and could eat less than half.  Yesterday, I undercooked half the bag.  I guess it works the same)  Granted, the popcorn is not fat free, but, if you were to do a calorie/fat side by side comparison, I bet you the Big Mac wins every time.

Here's another funny thing.  I went about afternoon/early evening and DID NOT WANT a Big Mac.  (Sorry, that should have been italicized.  Oh my goodness, I spelled that right the first time!  It's the little things that no one else can see that make me smile on a daily basis:) See a smile.)  Anyway, I ate my fat free soup, my organic lettuce salad, and a bread stick (okay, two bread sticks, but with no butter).  And the result?  I was full, again, the second time in two meals on one day.  I was shocked.  I had pulled out fat free instant Jell-O pudding for dessert, still unable to grasp this new concept, when I realized I didn't want it.  I settled for two gingersnaps and a cup of tea.  Wow, the world must really be changing. I don't quite know what to make of it.

So after three days of feeling like I was starving, like my stomach was so desperate it had turned to eating the fat that surrounded it, I can finally say I feel normal again (or as normal as I will ever be).  Who knows if this a permanent or one time thing, though.  I mean, I've got ten days left of this diet.  Just imagine the weight loss...hmm, shame I have no wedding or high school reunion around the corner.  Besides, I swore I'd be out of the country when my high school reunion rolled around.  My exact words?  I would have to be extradited to get me home.  And so the love of my diet (i.e. Terra chips) has not come easy.  I have had to give up daily luxuries like chocolate, peanut butter, and cheddar cheese, but if I can keep on keeping on, I can only see this as a win-win, and, yes, I am aware that in another blog I said win-wins don't exist.  It is called denial, and I accept it.  Anyway, what do I take away from all this?  An appreciation for a healthier diet, I can hope.  However, if I step on a scale at the end of this two week long forced calorie reduction and have not lost more than two pounds, I'll go right out to McDonalds.  Like the song says, it's a game of give and take.

BlytheLea L.E.

So Hard

"It's so hard when it doesn't come easy..." (Dixie Chicks, Day 3)

So, I have to ask, though I am not guaranteed a response, is it normal when going from fast food to health food to want to eat every two to three hours?  I've cracked.  I am now eating a piece of organic whole grain toast.  I had organic raisin bread and yogurt for breakfast.  What will lunch bring?  Relief? I doubt it.

I remember, about four years ago, my oldest friend who was human (most long standing friendships involve horses) was getting married, I went up to Lake Wenatchee for the bachelorette party.  The party itself was pretty tame, if a bit beyond my limited budget.  I spare the reader all of those details.  I could go on for ages, but that is missing the point.  The point was that I had never lived with so many people my own age.  The concept of sharing a bathroom was totally foreign, as was preppy, well, preppiness.  I'll admit, freely, that I was not the most popular girl in school.  I had friends, sort of, and I was okay with that.  The popular crowds let me sit with them, especially if they wanted something, but I was never going to be the Homecoming Queen.  Ach, I'm off topic again.  So many issues, so little time.

The point, stick to the point.  So here it is.  During that weekend trip up to a cabin on the lake, there was predominantly only healthy food available.  Low fat dressings, spaghetti that seemed to largely just be a jar of tomato sauce, and no great dessert.  Heck, I don't even remember dessert.  Breakfast was a single low fat yogurt.  Lunch?  More salad with low fat dressing.  As soon as I got home, I went straight out to a McDonalds and ate a Big Mac.  I could literally feel my deprived stomach happily replenishing any lost fat for that weekend.  I didn't eat a Big Mac again for a month, but I needed it then, and I wouldn't say no to one now.

My hope is that the longer I endure, the less I will crave.  Isn't that how cold turkey works?  But I must be careful.  I must stay strong.  I must drive by the McDonalds on my way to work.  Okay, who am I fooling.  I'm broke.  That money goes to horse food, literally, so I'll settle for the rabbit food, figuratively, that I have here.  After all, just how bad could this be?

BlytheLea L.E.

Am I the Only One

Am I the only one who has felt this way?  I told myself I'd keep with the Dixie Chicks theme. Hey, we safely have day two.

Okay, I'll admit, I tried this morning to sit down and write, but absolutely no topic came to mind.  None. Nada. Rien.  Then, over dinner, it hit me.  I would write about, well, dinner.

Let's be honest, this site is not called Ramblings for nothing.  I'm away from  my horses, the garden has gone into hibernation  and the only other topic I have going is how much I might appreciate applique but still hate bias binding.  Instead, I have another wrinkle to add to the mix.

As I am not with my herd, I am faced with a new diet.  A largely vegetarian and nearly entirely organic and low fat one.  Today was day two and already I have had to forcibly drive past a McDonalds.  I have found myself desperate for something with fat, and had to settle on blue cheese dressing.  That was my vice today.  Oh, and the mocha in the fridge, but that's gotta last at least through the weekend, so it is only in severe moderation.

So, I guess the point of all this is when contemplating a diet, no one ever mentions the cold turkey phase.  The longing, the yearning, for something with too much fat in it.  I long for peanut butter flavored pretzels or salt and vinegar potato chips.  I have, albeit delicious, Terra chips.  I stare at the fridge willing a block of cheddar cheese to appear.  I settle for low fat swiss on a whole grain piece of toast with organic turkey.  Is it good?  Of course it is.  But then comes the late night pangs.  I feel like a drug addict deprived of her hit.  While there might be ginger snaps, and I do love me some ginger snaps, they do not make up for homemade chocolate chip cookies.  When I wake in the morning, I hope the feelings are gone, but they never go far.  I eat yogurt, a piece of toast, and tea.  Heck, that's what i usually eat, but before lunch rolls around, I am dreaming of whipped mashed potatoes and marinated beef or salty french fries.  I have to wonder how long I will think only of what I cannot have.  When will the day come that I can safely get up and look forward to low fat soup and reduced fat chips?  Honestly, I'm hoping sooner rather than later.  This is my first shot at breaking a habit of this magnitude.  I'd be too terrified to ask anyone who might know better. The answer would probably just depress me.  In the mean time, I'll take a forbidden sip of Starbucks and close my eyes, dreaming of Barcelona.

Ah, Barcelona. Even when I eat donuts with my coffee, I dream of you and your delicious pain au chocolate.  Waking, sleeping, I dream of that perfect delicacy.  Oh, and the city too.  Right, nearly forgot about that.  So in my misery, I'll think of coffee and pastries in the Gothic Quarter and dream of the day I can afford to go back.  Maybe then I'll finally have moved on from my other food longings.  Then again, maybe not.

Rambling on,

BlytheLea L.E.

Long Time Gone

I'll admit, I like the Dixie Chicks.  That might have just weeded out any possible reader who happened to stumble upon this blog.  Rest assured, I won't be blogging about them.  It just seemed appropriate to have a shout out with the title and everything.  Anyway, moving on...

I love fall, the weather turns crisp here in Eastern Washington, the leaves start to change color, the garden finally bears fruit, and the horses become woolly.  Just as I can't think of a single thing to detract from the beauty, the weather comes and says hello.  First there was the massive northern wind that killed my poor corn, then there was the deluge of rain (by our standards, which would not hold a candle to Marion, Alabama or Rochester, Washington rain), capped off by that beastly southwestern wind that stripped the trees of their beautiful leaves.  Say hello to winter.

Still, I love October for more than just the leaves.  I love Halloween.  Forget Christmas, and I literally have. (Working for a retail oriented delivery company over the course of four peak seasons made me selectively forget everything from Thanksgiving to New Years all four years).  Halloween is the time of year where we can afford not to take ourselves too seriously.  Okay, maybe I never do, or at least I try not to, but what other holiday lets even the grown ups play dress up and ask for candy?  If you came up with something, chances are its far dirtier than anyone but yourself wants to hear, so do us all a favor and keep it to yourself.  Thank you.  Also being a life long black cat owner, I love that every one of them has thought the holiday was theirs.  Well, and who am I to say no?

So, was there a point?  No, that's why this blog is called Ramblings.  Its what we do.  We like to ramble, and maybe, just maybe, we'll find someone to ramble along with us.  Randomness is always appreciated, and oddities appreciate company just as much, if not more so, than misery.  Keep on keeping on.  We'll keep rambling on.


BlytheLea

In this blistering heat, there isn't much to tell about the garden.  Weeds in some places are being mowed rather than pulled to simply survive to do battle when the heat wave breaks.  Articles all across the internet detail how the heat and drought are ravaging the farms across the country.  The wonderful advantage of living in Washington is that while on the eastern side we might not see an abundance of rain, we do have quite a few rivers.  In Prosser, we operate off the Yakima, in Burbank, the Snake, and farms up and down the state draw off of the might Columbia.  When people talk about alternative energy to coal and gas, I have to shake my head.  Most of my life has been spent on water power from dams.  I have heard about the plight of salmon, but not that of the pollution of "clean coal".  Instead, these rivers that never cease to flow, keep us here in Washington going even while others falter.  I have to count my blessings to be so lucky.  Our garden is thriving, even if a few plants have taken a need to be watered twice a day.  The corn, the crop of the Midwest, here is thrilled to be baking.  It helps differentiate between the plant we want and the weeds around it.  The weather people promise a break, but that hasn't been coming.  When it does, maybe I'll be back out there battling weeds with something other than a lawn mower.  Until then, weeds remain the enemy, but I'll wait to fight another day.

Been a crazy busy couple of days, so other than bemoaning weeds, there is nothing more on the farm or sewing front.  I really need to buckle down and get to designing clothes for Rambo.  Don't ask.  However, I'm running around this week, cleaning stalls here and teaching lessons over there.  When that settles, I can finally sit down with some fabric and my sewing machine. 

Speaking of teaching lessons, and this blog is called Ramblings for a reason, let me just say that "lesson moms" are far worse than hockey or soccer moms.  There is a rule at most horse shows that mothers and coaches cannot coach from the rail.  This rule exists for a reason, but it doesn't stop some mothers from coaching during lessons.  Memorably, last week I met the worst of the worst.  There comes a time in every person's life that they want to say something but cannot pull their jaw from the ground.  That was last week for me.  Please, "lesson moms", if you're going to all the effort to bring your kid to a lesson, let the instructor teach.  If not, then get a horse of your own and save us all a lot of heartache.

Sorry for the detour, readers, but if you have any similar stories, feel free to share. Misery loves company, and I have to prepare for battle with the same "lesson mom" again.  Wish me luck, regardless.

BlytheLea L.E.

Just a sec

Rough week for getting the blogging done.  Have been training my own horses, teaching lessons, setting up house sitting, and sewing in the few minutes of free time.  Have to hurry back to all the things piling up, our irrigation is clogged, again, and the pastures need water, but a quick note about the sewing before I go.

Sometimes an idea just takes hold and won't let go, no matter how difficult or trying.  That was Wintersong, my latest creation.  He is an adorable dragon, but the pattern took a week to think through, and a day and a half of sewing to put together just right.  Finally, though, I can go back outside to work on what needs to be done here with a lighter heart.  I have finally finished something!

More later, I promise.

BlytheLea L.E.

Back in the Saddle, sort of

So sorry to have missed out on the blogging world for a few days, but anyone who has ever had horses knows that for all the wonderful things they bring us, they can also put us in bed for days to weeks on end. 

In the grand scheme of accepted superstitions, injuries always happen in 3's.  This year, said injuries have all involved my horses and my back.  First, my injured Thoroughbred (who thoughtfully bowed her tendon Christmas morning), Wish, ran me over and cracked my neck into my spine.  Laid up: 6 weeks. Secondly, I crashed and burned in a 3'6" jump combination on my younger Thoroughbred, Myth.  Laid up: 6 weeks.  Then, just this week, the Standardbred we loving call Bucky Bo clipped my back while trying to get a fly.  Don't ask for details, please.  As it is, well, that's another injury, in yet another part of my back.  This time, though, the recovery time will be shorter.  I'm already considering getting back in the saddle.  It'll hurt, but so far this year, I don't think I've had a day that hasn't.

My family, when this sort of thing happens, tries, in varying degrees of seriousness, to convince me out of riding.  My parents know better, but it doesn't stop from the half hearted try.  I know the sport I have chosen is a dangerous one, but with my track record, I literally have been hurt getting out of bed in the morning.  Better to stick with the devil you know, or something like that.

Where does this put the farm?  Well, luckily, short of a few more weeds, we're at a stage of rest that leaves us time to recover, me in particular.  But, as BlytheLea is about more than just gardening, we are also about sewing and riding, well, I guess everything's going to be on hold for a few days more.

I planned on sharing a photo or two to introduce the culprits, but sometimes my phone just refuses to cooperate about much of anything.  Will have to make sure that is included in a later post. 

BlythLea L.E. rambles on home

Finally, a quiet day.

After spending a hot, humid day out moving sprinklers and taking care of our herd of horses, today is a day to relax.  It is truly magnificent here today.  Sunny, warm but not hot, with just enough of a breeze to keep the heat from sweltering us as the day progresses.

Sitting in the shade and soaking this all in, it is wonderful to sit back and take a break from the chaos of our property.  We have a five year plan, and this is only year two, but sometimes it seems like we put in a year's worth of work only to get three months of return.

At the local sidewalk show, the annual Allied Arts Show, I was horribly disappointed.  It seems the unique artists are gone, being filled in with more of the same.  Either its cutesy, over colored, or something I wouldn't want on my property.  There were a few elements, but the old sparkle is gone. I have to admit my mum and I were heartbroken at the lack of originality.  Hopefully, as the economy starts to recover, so too will the artisans who made this a remarkable experience.  Until then, we love our house, our pets, and our life.  We can sit in the sun, enjoy a coffee, and think how lucky we are.  After all, we're not broke after a weekend of shopping.

BlytheLea L.E.

Ach, sprinklers.  Here at BlytheLea, our outdoor irrigation is off of a canal and metal lines that have to be moved twice daily.  It feels, after years with underground PVC, like we've descended to the Stone Age.  After nearly a week of trying to fix the breakage wrought by a lazy person who shall not be named, we finally, finally, got it all up and running.  Today, though, marked the first real test of having to move it all after an hour of work, simply to get them going and water some more.  Now, after this, will be time to move the lines yet again.  Oh how I miss underground sprinklers that run off a timer.  Still, we love our home and property, the horses are happy, the garden is thriving, we can simply count the sprinklers as our daily work out from here on out.  Oh, and weeding.  Sprinklers and weeding.

Off to move some more water,

BlytheLea L.E. & J.R.

Have a similar experience?  Let us know!

Early Morning Sunrise

We at BlytheLea are not morning people.  We simply get up because we have to.  Tragic thing about summer, if you want to get anything done before dying of heat stroke, you have to get up early to do it.  That was teh case this morning.  Up nearly in time to watch the sunrise in order to get the raking done.  Tomorrow will be up at dawn to clean up the mess of today.  Sadly, the window is a small one, but here we are, rewarding our effort with coffee at Starbucks.  Maybe, just maybe, we can make this work!

In other news, our corn is finally sprouting!  Super excited to watch as our corn spirals come in.  As soon as it looks like something other than dirt and sprigs, we'll post an update.  In the meantime, still have the horses to watch out for as the heat rises.  Luckily, the smart ones like to be hosed down.  Okay, so they're all smart, but the two who bear the brunt of this weater tend to be the smartest this time of year!  Well, here's to another day done, and another coming tomorrow.

BlytheLea L.E. & J.R.

We welcome feedback!

Not so Helpful Helpers

Just a quick update here.  The garden is starting to take off.  Our planted from seed melons and squash are quickly gaining on the bought plants, and in a few days, I think, will pass them.  Tani, our oldest of our equine herd, has always loved watermelon.  We plant one for her every year. 

 However, the problem with the garden is our puppy.  Count Nikolas Ilyavich Rostov, Nikki for short, has taken to helping in the garden.  He likes to walk where we're watering, run through our melon patches and our corn spirals (our corn will look like a landing platform for aliens soon).  However, we love him, so we have to accept this and smile.

And here he is!  Okay, that was about all I had to share today.  Thanks for those who visit, feel free to comment. Now we'll be sitting out back waiting for the grass/plants to grow.

BlytheLea L.E. and J.R. (and Nikki)

The Problem With Weeding

The problem with weeding, besides that fact that I hate to do it, is that the process usually ends in injury.  This time, it began with an injury, and now I am miserable and my mom has thrown out her back.  It is a never ending cycle.  I would love to say that with all this misery came result, but after planting all morning, well, it will take awhile to admit results.  However, I will finally have pictures to post and prove that this is working when the corn and peas do pop up, and, thankfully, the weeds are much more controlled.  That means the picture might even look nice, too.

An additional problem with weeding is the prolonged sense of misery.  Yeah, there are proper ways to weed,  I worked for UPS for four years.  I know the ten rules to proper lifting and lowering, but sometimes a stubborn weed or patch of grass just makes you so focused on destroying the invader you forget the mechanics of your own body.  That, however, is not the additional problem.  No, that would be the fact that sitting down to sew will hurt for the rest of the day too.  C'est la vie, and la vie hurts right about now.

Signing off...

BlytheLea L.E.

P.S. Feel free to leave comments, questions, and if you'd like to see what we've accomplished so far, our shop name is  Mumaroo and we are on Etsy and Facebook.

Summer is here, and the heat is startingt to swelter.  Luckily, we've got air conditioning.  However, this means that the work outside is less and the work inside is much, much more.  The garden is up and running, though we have to water twice a day in this heat.  We'll sit back and wait to dine on the fruits of our labors.  In the mean time, there is still sewing for Mumaroo.

Ah, sewing.  In the span of one day, I managed to knock out three dresses and post four.  I was pretty impressed with myself, if I do say so.  However, I have to admit to hating the following things: bias binding, grommets, and arm holes on doll dresses.  I love to create the patterns, though, and that keeps me going.

Mum will be doing curtains soon, and getting those up will be a welcome relief.  However, it means my time with the sewing has been curtailed.  I'll be sitting twidling my thumbs or being outside working with the horses in the heat.  think I'll brave the heat.  Until next time...

this blogging bit is harder than i would think. tomorrow, i think i will try to type on my computer not my cell phone. will it make a difference, i can only hope. spring is in full force here in eastern washington. sunny and eighty turns into windy, cloudy, and sixty. need to be keeping an eye on when to rototill the garden. have manure, will work.