I voted early

 This afternoon, I headed over to the courthouse to vote a few days early. 

No real reason for voting early except it was convenient.

I presented my drivers license to the clerk, signed my name on the tablet, and was handed a paper ballot. I was pointed toward an open cubby equipped with ink pens. 

I filled out my ballot, both front and back.

Another clerk pointed me toward the scanner, and I placed my ballot in the tray. The scanner did its work and told me my votes were cast. 

I was handed a sticker on the way out, and just like that, the process was complete. 

I felt a sense of accomplishment for having done my civic duty, and I feel very confident that the process is secure. 

I’m thankful for the opportunity to have my say at the polls! 

You can vote early tomorrow also, or you can wait until Election Day, Nov. 8. 

Woolgathering in class

This afternoon I attended the first of a series of writing workshops being taught at our public library. 

As we introduced ourselves, I thought what a varied spectrum of voices we represented-each human, unique in personality, in appearance, in background, etc. 

We went around the table, telling what we liked to read, and what genre we kinda/sorta hoped to write. 

Eventually, our writing instructor gave us a prompt, and we were invited to read what we wrote, the idea being that we would attempt to come up with a strong beginning, something that would entice readers to want to read on. 

I spent most of my time thinking about WHAT it was I wanted to start. 

I SAID I was an essayist, but what I actually started was a fictitious story. 

As I listened to each person read, I enjoyed our different voices. I enjoyed the sound of them. I enjoyed the spirit of them, the individual personalities reflected in each person. 

And yet. I’ll bet I wasn’t the only one with a little voice pecking away in the back of my brain saying I really had nothing of value to say. 

But that’s not true. 

We are all vastly interesting stories in the making. Our loves, our dislikes, our hurts, our dreams and passions, our quirks…each of us is a masterpiece, really, if we were translated to paper. 

However, fear holds us captive a lot of the time. We worry too much about what people will think. 

What if we had the courage to reveal a little more of ourselves, if we honestly believed our stories were as valid as the next person’s? Who knows what poetry, memoirs or  novels we might create? 

I also noticed that most who read aloud from their prompt assignment had not written in the genre they said they were interested in writing.

I think what came out of us was something we didn’t really anticipate in most cases, almost in voices we didn’t recognize. 

Who the heck are we?!? Lol. 

The whole writing process is just crazy, that we could each pull such different ideas out of our heads in just a few minutes.

Our ability as humans to communicate is fascinating, whether it be spoken, written, sung, painted, sculpted, etc.

Thus began the first chapter of my new novel. 😆

Yes, caring for young kids is hard!

 Our office is closed on Wednesdays, so I can often be found at home with some grandchildren underfoot.  

The youngest three are a handful, but they are more fun than a barrel full of monkeys! 

Time with the grandkids wrecks my house and my to-do list gets shelved, but when they all go home, my heart literally feels warmer, fuller, lighter.  

I'm left smiling while at the same time shaking my head at the amount of energy they require.  

During one season of my life, I was a mom with young kids to care for all day, but I sometimes forget how hard it was.  

Even deadline days at the paper are easier than wrangling three or four kids and a dog or two, lol! 

Back in the day I used to beat myself up, because I felt like I wasn't getting much accomplished.  

My house wasn't as clean and tidy as I thought maybe it should be; I wasn't as clean and tidy as I thought I should be, yada-yada-yada, blah, blah, blah. 

*Sighhh* 

Dummy me.   I wish I had cut that young mom some slack.  

She didn't do it all perfectly, but she gave it her whole heart.  Her kids' basic needs were met and then some, and they seemed pretty happy and well adjusted.  

They grew up to be fine, loving mothers, so she must have done a few things right. 

With that being said, it's about Nan's bedtime.  Good night, y'all! 

Times, they are a changin'--again

Today is the start of a brand new month.  

It's November, and some of us have seen a lot of Novembers, so the start of another one might seem like more of an occasion for a yawn than for excitement. 

Still, we aren't promised any more Novembers, or months, or days, or hours, even.  

Therefore, I'll try to appreciate the month, even though the dark season is settling in and the leaves are falling and most green things are dying back.

I'll remind myself that at the same time things appear to be dying, they are releasing seeds, scattering them to soil that becomes cold and hard, but that same soil that will hold them, keep them, for another spring when the strengthening sun and warming earth will stir new life and another lifecycle will commence. 

While I'm not exactly thrilled about the dark season, I appreciate the season of rest.  Relatively speaking.  

There's still plenty to do, but we are forced indoors well before bedtime, and because we are indoors, we are less active. 

I mean, unless I get real motivated to do some squats or sit-ups or something while watching Netflix. 

Or to clean house. 

I'm not holding my breath about that though. 

In years past, I've participated in the National Blog Posting Month challenge, or NaBloPoMo, which happens in November.  

If you notice my blog archives, you'll see that almost all the entries were written in November.  That's because of NaBloPoMo.  

I'm not making any promises that I'll post every day, but we'll see.  I'm not making any promises that I won't, either. 😁

Goodbye, Daylight Savings Time

 

Here’s another reminder to set your clocks back an hour before you go to bed tonight. 

Most of us rely on our fitbits and phones for telling time, and they typically upgrade automatically. 

But for those of you who don’t, you’ve been warned! 

I’m sure gonna miss the extra hour of daylight in the evenings but the brighter mornings won’t be so bad. 

It was 10.30 or so before the sun melted all the frost here on the farm this morning. 

Just look at the difference in sun and shade!

Baby Number Three has arrived!

We’ve been awaiting the arrival of this little booger for weeks, and as I was coming home from work, I could tell that there was a little shadow by her momma’s side!

That brought a smile to my face. 

Then Robin informed me that we have another calf down, this one two or three months old. 

The calf didn’t appear sick. He just couldn’t get up, as his hips seemed pretty useless. 

I sent the vet a video and asked his opinion on the situation.

He said it might be an injury… or blackleg. 

I ran to the clinic to buy shots, and Robin jabbed him twice. We took the calf some hay and water; now we can only hope and pray for the best. 

I walked over to where baby donk number three and her momma were hanging out. 

The momma steered her baby away from me and they sidled off. It amazes me every time how a calf, horse or donkey can be born, then just minutes or hours later, they jump up and take off. 

Wonders never cease! 

It’s National Blog posting month

I thought about not doing the blog challenge this November. Then I thought I might post at least a couple of times a week. 

But this will be a wimpy Monday post because my brain is tired from newspapering all day.  My creative well has about run dry for now. 

This evening I was taking what I hoped might be an invigorating walk when Robin called for my help. 

He’d found a newborn calf in the woods that was very very weak. 

It was limp as the proverbial dishrag—its eyes already looked dull and glazed. But we worked with it for an hour, rubbing it, drying it, trying to feed it a bottle of colostrum. I heated a blanket and towels to try and warm the calf. 

Poor little thing. Our efforts were too little, too late. It died despite the best we could do.  

That’s discouraging. On the outside, the calf looked perfect, like a plush black toy. But something obviously went wrong. 

Think I’ll go watch Friday Night Lights now…switch mental tracks, ya know. 

Have y’all seen it? 

Its pretty compelling, even though I don’t know much about football!