I know I must sound like a simpleton, and maybe I am (and that is okay) but I just can’t shake the giddy.  From the time I was born, I have endured some pretty heavy seasons in my life.  Some by choice, even. 

This rough stuff, the ugly, is what makes everything else around me beautiful.  It allows me to see it as beautiful.

OBL’s post really hit home for me.

Nothing like nine months of illness to make you appreciate scooping dog poop. 

@ordinarybutloud

 

I’m eating an Uber roasted nut roll.

It is gluten free and non-gmo. 

And I did not have to pay $492 for it on-line.

I found it at the fancy Walmart in the next county over. 

Feels like some sort of victory has been won.

I’ve had three glorious days,
and with the temps warming this week,
the glory will continue to rock the house.

This morning alone, has tipped the glory scale.

I’ve sprinkled my seeds and plants with drinks of water,

pulled a few stray weeds,

changed out the dog waters,

served canine poop duty, (yes, even this is glorious)

heartwormed/flea and ticked nine canine,

chased nine canine while yelling, I’ll get you my pretties,

inhaled the fragrance of equine,

dewormed one beautiful red dun mare,

round penned one stubborn, but handsome, paint gelding,

dewormed one stubborn, but still handsome, paint gelding.

Went Round 2 with my half slab of ribs from yesterday’s Texas Roundhouse outing.

There were birthdays to celebrate.

Not for sure how my beautiful boys turned 20 and 24,
yet I’ve yet to hit 35.

Shut up.

Don’t make my boys come over there and kick some butt.

Okay, enough of this mushy love talk,

it’s time to slip into my Larry the Cable Guy shirt and mow the back forty.

Victory indeed.  *happy sigh*

You know you have arrived to a place of total confidence when you can give a tour of your land to potential buyers in your Larry the Cable Guy shirt while covered in Oklahoma grit and dog hair.

No, I am not talking about my husband. 

I have finally released my inner grungy mountain man at a should be embarrassing level.

Going from a glorious 88 degrees to an all evil has returned 30 degrees signals the body to slip into hypothermia mode.

It also temps the mean to outweigh the wild.

I had a little anger releasing therapy yesterday afternoon.  (a little I HATE CROHNS releasing therapy)

Or maybe I just threw a fit.

Either way, I felt better.

Emotionally, anyway.

Physically is another story.

I’m back on liquids for awhile.

I get a little mean when I can’t eat.

My Hunky is a brave man.  He peeks his head into my door and if a full bottle of Boost hasn’t come hurling past his head, he knows it’s safe to come in and comfort his fragile little wall wild flower.

And still he tells me I make his speakers go boom-boom.

I’m thinking he must have a little moonshine still hidden out on the back forty. One would have to be, at the very least, a bit tipsy to put up with me. 

Totally smashed seems even safer. 

I love you, Hunky. 

tail of turquoise scales
there on Oklahoma rock
posing like a boss

I got one poem in before national poetry month ended!
And yes, I do realize I have used the word boss two days in a row. 

It had been such a long time since we had headed southwest to blow kisses to the buffalo.  I really wanted to make another trip before we move to Arizona.  I needed to say good-bye.

We took our Josey with us.  She’s a sweet and scrappy little thing, terrified of all the peoples.  Daily, she cries, RUN FOR YOUR CANINE LIVES, THEY IS MURDERING THE POUND PUPPIES TODAY!

I love her spirit.  She has come such a long way since we brought her home from that cage. That cage she had lived the first six months of her life.  She will wrestle with me now.  Oh how she sasses me.  I tell her to take her trash talk somewhere else.  She throws in a few extra growls and howls for good measure.  I love that about her.

This was Josey’s first outing, other than her trips to the vet, groomer and the occasional car ride when we have ranch showings.  (we had another one today, btw)  We assumed Meteorology Man would have to carry her through the trails meandering through the mountains.

Well, little Miss Fragile Thing rocked the trails like a boss. 
Like a freaking canine boss.

And I’m pretty sure Joe and Macy had to carry their little Khai the entire hike.  Or not, but that is our story.
Because we are a freaking canine boss.

I’m still here.

Still shivering here under this electric blanket,
believing spring really will come.

Or at the very least, the unleashing of hell.

I’m cold, and welcome anything resonating some sensation of heat.

We had a showing on the ranch last Friday.

The potential buyer said he needed more land.

But, if you already knew you needed more than 42 acres, why bother looking?

I remember having that same issue in NY while we were trying to sell our 1830′s brick Victorian.  Oh 5000 sq ft is just too big for our family.  We wouldn’t know what to do with all this space.  Used to drive me nuts. 

I just wish the family that really wants the ranch could buy it, but they have yet to sell their own place.  This property makes her swoon.  She cried when we sold it the first time.  And then contacted us when she saw it was back on the market. Yes, that’s who should live here. Someone whose soul can hear this land, give it what it needs, and receive what it offers.  If money should fall down from the heavens, or a winning lottery ticket, we would totally give this place to her.  I like giving better than selling.

Meteorology Man has been applying for jobs in Arizona.  He’s had a good run at working from home, but his company is looking a bit weak in the knees with all the government budget issues.  Hopefully Tucson, considering that is where this glorious place sits.  Well, it’s near there anyway.  Out in the middle of nowhere, a little town with open range for the cattle.  The roads are literally one lane, with pull-offs every now and then.  But, we rarely ran across anyone else on the road.  It really does feel like you are in an episode of High Chaparral, with the trails and natural desert landscape.

To get to the actual town, you have to travel about five miles of these glorious cattle paths.  No sarcasm.  This totally makes me happy.  The town is along the highway and consists of a gas station convenience store, a thrift shop and this place. 

The taco shop.  We checked it out while we were there.  They make the flour tortillas fresh to order.  Glorious, I tell you.  The girl at the counter let my Hunky sample the Hibiscus tea.  He ordered a large, drank it all and then we hit the road to Phoenix.  He later discovered, Hibiscus tea can cause some people to do squirrelly things and you really shouldn’t drive while drinking it for the first time.  oops.  Thankfully, he was fine.  He’s a tall glass of water. Takes more than a little flower water to make him squirrelly.

Me, on the other hand, can get squirrelly standing downwind from an open bottle of Nyquil.

Speaking of squirrelly (in a good squirrelly kind of way), you have to check out this video my daughter and son-in-law created.  I find it brilliant. 
But, you be the judge. 

I just read a post written by my daughter.

Danged booger butt made me cry.
It’s okay.
She let’s me call her danged booger butt.

She made me realize something.

I’m holding back from you.

I’m giving weight to something I shouldn’t.

Instead of sharing my journey,
this freaking crazy journey,

I am sitting on all these glorious things in my life.

Why, you ask.

For fear of the ridicule.

No, not really fear of the ridicule,

but fear of me getting irritated with those who like to keep everyone in their self-made little boxes.

Like my daughter says, Meteorology Man and I hardly fall into the category of following the All American Dream.

I know our plans have been rather unpredictable and ever-changing,
appearing as though we haven’t a brain in our head,
and as that may be true,
we use our heart,
not our minds to live our lives.

You don’t choose to love eight children birthed by someone else with your mind.

It’s not your mind that says, Hey, lets run a dog rescue.

It’s that sloppy, messy, mushy soft thing in your body that makes those decisions.

It’s just how we roll.

So, even though we have wandered all over with the decision to leave Watering Hole Ranch, we have learned much, making each zig and each zag so worth it.

Some folks’ dreams allow them to stay in the same place for 30 plus years.

Ours, not so much.

For whatever reasons,
our lives,
our souls,
our destinations have been ever-changing.

But, as I realize more and more,
it’s not the arrival,
it’s what we see along the way,
it’s who we meet at each fork in the road,
it’s what happens in our hearts when we feel our knees shake
because we don’t really know which way to go.

Finding it hard to leave the soul things we have connected to during a rest along the cow path.

I guess what I am trying to say is,
I have totally pulled back from you for fear of your response.
Of my own response.

And that’s just not right.

I know the majority of you are for me,
I can feel your excitement and support.

And for those who may not understand all the changes and uncertainty,
I need to realize it’s not my place to repeatedly explain and justify our reasons.
If they never get it, that’s okay.

We all walk, stumble, crawl a different cow path,
and if all we take away from life is that one glorious thing,
well done.

I have fought hard this next fork.
Reality can be harsh,
punching you in the gut,
daring you to pick up your beaten body from the ground.

Everything I love is here.

Everything but health.

Take away health,
and the dreams tumble down like a stack of Jenga blocks.

I have to be honest.
I have lived dreams,
taken in the horizons that cause soul to soar.

I have no place for complaint.
I have not been denied. 

There comes a time when we release what needs released
to take hold of new things.
Old things down deep, really.

My body no longer has the capacity to retain its own body heat,
forcing me to spend even the mild winter of Oklahoma under an electric blanket,
neglecting all that calls my name.

There is no strength to tend to all the glorious duties pleasures of Watering Hole Ranch.
It would not be right to watch its beauty fall down around me,
because I am too selfish, weak, unwilling to release it.

After much encouragement from my Hunky,
we have once again put WHR back on the market.

If you are not afraid of the zigs and the zags and the uncertain cow path,
feel free to check out the POSSIBLE place we found to downsize near Tucson, Arizona.

Hey.  It’s nice having you mangy varmints on our journey. 

Our flight arrived around ten last night.

It was eighty something degrees.

At night, people.

Without the sun.

Eighty degrees.

*happy sigh*

A wild woman could get used to this.

In fact, she plans to do just that,
no matter how outrageous you think she is.

And her little dogs, too.

So, just where is wild woman?

Any guesses?

(edit) You mangy varmints had me all over this country.  You had some pretty good guesses.  Yesterday’s photo was taken in Phoenix.  Today I woke up in Tucson.   Life is good.

Oh my sweet lovies,
you are too good to me.

I all but abandon you and yet you take me to your bosom.

Thank you for the private messages.
You is good peoples.

I have much to tell you, but it is not yet time.
It could be glorious.
or fizzle like a dud during the grand finale.

I have abused your tolerance for crazy things,
but I will not apologize.

That’s just how a wild woman roles.

Until then, enjoy a little Ralph.

We spent most of the day working outside, with a few breaks sitting under the pine, letting the Oklahoma breeze do its thing.  The sun and warmth were glorious today.

I was itching to prep my gardens, so I drug out my tools and started the therapeutic chore of overturning the soil.  A little at a time, all my strength would allow, each shovelful releasing an earthy perfume.  I inhaled deeply. 

Rather than the normal veggies, I will fill these beds with flowers this year, canna bulbs, ornamental grasses, hostas and some color.  Feeling the need for something lush.  And of course, there will be sunflowers.  My garden is not complete without them.

The veggies will be planted in waist-high beds.  Today we stacked old metal horse watering troughs onto cinder blocks.  They most certainly expose my redneck roots, but hopefully this will make it easier for me to tend to my salsa veggies.  I think I will paint the cinder blocks a cream color.

We also started placing my garden art back into the garden beds.  I was tempted to put everything back into the same spots, but decided to shake things up a bit.  I am having fun, but most of my pieces are heavy, so I doubt MM is having as much fun as I am.
 
Still, he smiled.

And even drove us down the highway to the Dairy Queen for a little ice cream.

The canine are all happily tucked into their beds.  They wear themselves out on days like this, chasing butterflies, harassing the trucks on the road and taking dips in the galvanized water trough.  Actually, Yosemite Sami is the one who likes to swim.  I tell her I really don’t think the other dogs want to drink her butt water.  She wiggles at me, then continues to cool herself in what she has claimed to be her personal pool. 

Annie Oakley is snoring. 

My own eyes are getting heavy.  I doubt I will be able to get through the Big Valley episode I have playing before drifting off myself.  I like watching the same shows over and over.  I don’t know why. 

MM is probably watching something creepy on Netflix.  He just signed up last night for the free thirty days offer.  I pretty much only watch vintage movies and westerns. Would Netflix work for me?  Tell me what you like/dislike about it. 

And now, I have a date with my pillow.

Good night, my lovies.