Peaceful Weight Loss?

Only in the South does one wear a wool hat with a t-shirt.  No wonder folks up north worry about us Southeners?  We give out the free ammo.  Anyone else notice I capitalize South, but not the north? An undercurrent of ethnocentric beleifs illustrated.

And speaking of the South, two weeks from yesterday, that's all.  In two short weeks the pitchers and the catchers report to Spring Training, possition players a little bit later.  But first Justin Heyward?  Thursday?  Remember?

Not terribly uptight, I do allow skateboards, ribsticks and scooters to be ridden in the house.  Nando'd gotten a new one for a song at a yard sale.  $5, which is a lot of money to me, but a brand new one costs $69.99 according to the Internet.

I suspect overindulged kids in our very privileged county harangue their parents for these, yet never go outside and use 'em, preferring the slothfulness of video games?  Who knows?  That's the story I'm arbitrarily assigning to our finds, using it as personal finance examples as I try to teach budgeting to my kids.  But everything seems to be in excellent, never used condition when we buy it, we then use stuff so hard that it eventually goes out in over-used, exhausted pieces to the toy graveyard in the county dump.

Kind of like me, right?

I'm always on a quest for success, not necessarily materialistic gain, but I do crave peace.  Any headline worth its weight grabs my immediate attention, either then I dismiss it as quackery, tomfoolery or not worth getting all hot and bothered about, but the yoga guy held my attention momentarily.

He'd lost 100 pounds, credits yoga for it all, and now is a private coach, helping others to do the same.  I love stories like that, the helping of others, it pulls at my soul in such a good way, especially since I'd already shot my own nerves this morning reading a sensationalistic headline about elder abuse being on the rise.

Again I am so happy that Grandma moved down here to live with us nearly 12 years ago, when Jack was a chunky monkey baby.  Now that Grandpa's gone, I'd be a mess worrying about Grandma in her big ole Victorian house back up in Hampton.  I trust her certainly, she's tough and formidable, it's the other idiots in the world that I am wary of, and rightly so.

It's gonna be 72 degrees today, yeah boy, time to slap them onions in the ground, probably get a row or two of spinach planted also, maybe even the sugar snap snow peas, only one appointment today awaiting me.  Yes, cole crops, I hear you calling my name.

Last night I planted 216 tomato plants in seed flats in my kitchen, half of what I wanna get done.  This year I'm going to over plant even more, having had back to back to back to back droughts plus blight, time to step up my game.

25 pounds of potatoes for supper for 14 people last night.  Who eats that much?  Uh, we do.  I had two servings.

Tonight'll be black bean chili.

My daffodils are grinning at me happily, promising an end to an easy winter, my kids have all been in right good moods overall, other than the good stress of Sabrina soon having to make a final decision about next year, all is fairly darn good around here.

All of my 8 high schoolers have at least one, if not more, classes in which they are not the only Bodie, which makes for easier homework certainly as they share resources and memory, supplies and help for each other.  Lily and Dubs sit next to each other in their Spanish class, all in all my kids usually find great comfort in each other's presence.  No one gets a Bodie like another Bodie - an odd species overall.

So I fell asleep last night thinking about septic tanks, how cool is it that what we send down the drain, eventually rejoins the ground water filtered by the earth?  Reason number 80,567 I don't like chemicals, don't wanna pollute my lovely land.  I also don't ever want to be hooked up to city water, my well water is The Best.

In the name of progress too often we've left behind ideas that've worked beautifully in favor of Big Brother Governmental Red Tape Bullcrap that clogs the system literally.  Every single day I am happy that I live exactly where I live.  I'm not perennially dissatisfied with what I have, if anything I want to own less of what I have and to concentrate on making do with the rest of it all.

My overly destructive kids from years ago even tore out some of my rain gutters.  It's not even due to maliciousness all the time, sometimes they're just so overcome with negative emotions that even the inanimate items take the brunt of their inner wrath.  I've observed kids just grabbing whatever is near and twisting, or turning or manipulating said object until it crumples in their hands.  Oddly enough the kid is usually bewildered by the end result, often telling me, "Hey it broke," as if it were the object's fault.  Spontaneous combustion a fairly regular event.

At any rate, I need to climb some ladders, watch Snapguide or Youtube and see how to do this, but after I finally reattach rain gutters, I want to divert said water into specific areas, not so much into rain barrels, but rather using flexible tubing to aim it toward garden beds, further completing the water cycle around here.

When I'd first bought this house, 20 years ago in March of '93, my washing machine drained out in the meadow.  A good idea I thought, complimenting the original owner, but the dang county cited me on it when I'd applied for a building permit to add on to the house.

"Well, that's stupid," I didn't say.  I jump through hoops properly.

"I run the zombies off," JoJo tried to convince me of his priceless contribution to our family life.

I stared back, unmoved.  "Well. that's idiotic," I didn't say.  I tolerate ridiculousness right well.

"Seriously mom," he continued earnestly , "You haven't seen any around here, have you?

How would I know?  What with the obvious demons I seem to have fought for so long.  Those crazy demons of strife and deceit, disharmony and rejection, emotional ills and bad moods, oh my goodness, son, "Keep fighting," I advised.  "You're doing a great job."