What Happens When an Idiot Tries to Blog

So my wherewanders.com blog is down AGAIN. It's hopelessly broken. I need my in residence website repair team (my son) to fix it, but since he works full time and is attending college he doesn't have a lot of time for these things and I can't simply go whimpering off to him every time I manage to kill said website. Who knows how long it will be flat-lining????

As you may have noticed, I've been revamping this blogspot blog and transferring the posts that used to be here and adding posts that were written at wherewanders. This is because I'm tired of being stupid. BlogSpot allows me to be as inept as I please and my blog still works. 

Switching blog sites not once, but twice is blogging suicide, but apparently I care more for my own sanity than yours! Good luck finding me! 

Anyway, blogging was supposed to be a hobby, a relaxing hobby... not one that makes me want to destroy things. So welcome back! Browse around! Enjoy! I'm going to go punch something...

Bad Hair Day?

I had a conversation with my daughter this morning. It went like this:

Me- "My hair is boring today."
Daughter - "That's what hair does. It sits there being hair, a bunch of dead cells just laying around on your head."
Me- "Maybe that's what goes wrong. I think my hair is boring so I decide I need to get a haircut so it will do something."
Daughter- "Hair is either boring or it does something weird."
Me- "So boring hair is a good thing?"
Daughter- "Yes."
Me- "But I always thought my hair should do something."

She doesn't really respond to this, just shakes her head in a pitying way as she walks off.

I'm left thinking.... hmmm.... all this time I've been trying to get my hair to do something. Suddenly all the years and years of bad hair make more sense than I would like to admit....

New Beginnings

Life gets tough sometimes. Adversity is part of our experience.
Sometimes good things happen.

I have lupus. It's been in remission so long the doctor suggested I try going outside a bit again. Now this doesn't mean I get to go crazy. I go out in the early morning and come in before it even has a chance to get hot.

I dig around in the dirt, pull out weeds and water stuff. My yard is starting to look ok again just from the little bit of time I put in every morning. I'm starting to feel okay again too, just from that little bit of time that I can commune with nature. It's remarkable. People weren't meant to stay inside all the time.

There have been fruits of my labors. Literally. I've had strawberries, sweet cherries, raspberries, sour cherries and now peaches. Nothing tastes like sun ripened fruit straight out of my own yard, weeded, watered and cared for by me.

When tough things happen, I like to go outside and work in my yard. I can't express how grateful I am to have this outlet opened back up to me. Being sick is no fun, but having an important coping mechanism removed at the same time makes it almost unbearable. For me doing nothing but sitting in a chair outside is paradise and one I hope will never be taken away again.

Ham Gravy

It always surprises me when I mention ham gravy and people cringe. It is a favorite around here.

When the ham gravy flows it's celebration time. It doesn't seem to matter who's in the house at the time, family, guests, you name it - I find people eating it on all sorts of weird things in vast quantities - even discovered one of my kids drinking it from a glass.

Let me tell you what ham gravy tastes like - liquid bacon. Anything you can imagine that tastes good with bacon will taste divine with ham gravy. The possibilities are endless.

There are a few rules though if you really want to try it.

1. It has to come from drippings from a smoked ham - NOT a honey cured ham.

2. Do NOT glaze the ham. Just roast it in all its smoky pulchritudinous glory. (Trust me, if you haven't had ham this way you haven't lived!)

3. Make the gravy as a milk gravy not a water gravy.

4. If you have even the remotest opportunity to get a pig (with all its wondrous cuts) from an all natural or organic farmer - take it! You will never want to eat that nasty store bought pork again! (What do they DO to that stuff???????) Ham (yum yum!), bacon, sausage, pork loin, pork chops etc. all tastes so amazing eaten the way it was intended - from a person who knows what to feed a hog. Oh yeah.

5. Pour so much gravy on your food you can no longer see it and you have to use a bowl. (See picture above.)

6. Eat leftovers for the next two weeks. The drippings make so much gravy you'll be swimming in it (or at least your food will  be).

You can thank me for the introduction of a food that is akin to manna from heaven or the ambrosia of the gods, however you choose to look at it.

If you're a vegetarian... well then... I guess this is just plain awkward isn't it?

Another List! Oh Boy!

Things have been a bit neglected around here.

I have a love/hate relationship with writing. Sometimes I'm really into it and sometimes I detest it.

There comes a point where I detest writing and everything I write stinks. I'm the worst writer in the world and I'm never going to write anything that actually amounts to anything.

Regardless of how rotten what I've written is, I keep at it. I'm a masochist I guess. I torture myself with the process regardless of the outcome.

So today I thought I'd make a list (you know how much I love lists) of all the reasons why I should keep writing.  

1. To make all the other writers look good.
   
2. So my brain will be active and I won't get Alzheimer's.
   
3. Entertainment for my relatives who love me regardless of what I write.
   
4. When people ask me what my hobbies are, I don't have to say 'Sitting around eating candy.' It justifies the candy. Sugar is brain food. I need it so I can think of terrible things to write.
   
5. When I'm tired and I write I don't feel lazy. I'm being productive. I'm writing.
   
6. I can ignore everyone around me and become a hermit, but as far as everyone else is concerned - I'm amazing. I write. (Seriously, if you feel over-peopled you should try this. It works surprisingly well.)
   
7. If I'm writing I'm not cooking, doing laundry or washing the dishes. That's reason enough right there.
   
8. I can feel utterly embarrassed and self conscious  when people ask me about what I'm writing. This keeps me on my toes and stops me from sinking into mediocre life oblivion.
   
9. It's a great topic of conversation for people who have no idea what to say to me.
   
10. It keeps me humble... or humiliated, not sure which.

What Does 'Love' Mean?

I love you.

Do I? Or do I like you? Do I love you the way I love my fish? Or do I love you the way I love my warm wooly socks?

Part of the confusion that comes from having one word in English to describe love, is that we misinterpret things, currently and historically.

I love my husband.
I love my children.
I love my God.
I love my rabbits.
I love reading.
I love popsicles.
I love colors.

One word describes my feelings for all these things - love. But I'm not feeling the exact same emotion for any of them.

Perhaps this has been a source of confusion throughout history. It certainly is now. Historically, the word was used more liberally to describe relationships of all kinds. Now it is used more frequently to describe how we feel about our stuff.

Is it because we're more material? While that could be so, it's not the point in this post. That would be far too serious a topic to be handled on this blog.

I wonder if we are more cautious with the word or more flippant with the word because it could be so easily misconstrued. What will people read into it?

There's the ever awkward 'I love you like a sister'. That takes something away from the warmth of the feeling. Why isn't there a distinct word just for that kind of love? Or a word for the way we love deity? Or a lesser word for the way we love our stuff? A special word for the way we love our spouse would be a beautiful thing.

It is sometimes said English speaking people are cold and don't show their feelings well. Maybe it's because we lack the proper words for those feelings.

I love my fellow man, so I love you, but in a normal love-my-fellow-man way, not in a creepy, weird, stalking you way.

See? Awkward.