Tomorrow is another day

A few weeks ago, we replaced our field line. For anyone who doesn't live in a rural area, a field line is a line that goes out from the septic tank to handle household waste runoff when the septic tank is full.  Most rural sewer systems have a field line. Apparently, some tree roots had grown into ours and were preventing it from draining the way it should. That caused what we in Northeast Texas call a loblolly and what other parts of the world call a cesspool. 

Loblollies and cesspools are not sanitary and they don't smell too swell either. Besides that, the loblolly was right in front of a storage building that I want redone and this was impossible with the loblolly in place. So, we rented equipment and ran a new field line in the area between the house and the beauty shop. That means we dug a trench ranging from about 3 to 4 feet deep about 2 1/2 feet wide and 100 yards long with a hole about 6 feet deep at the end and lined it with a Weed X type fabric and filled it with gravel and new pipe and covered it back over with dirt.  When I say we, I do mean we - just me and Russell. I take that part in the Bible about being a good help mate very seriously. So we worked like dogs and got it all done. No more loblolly, no more stink! Yay! Problem solved.

Fast forward to today.

Today, I had my in-laws scheduled for 9 o'clock for both of them to get hair cuts. At 9 this morning, it was coming a flood of not quite Biblical proportions, but it was RAINING. I was about to go out the front door and decided I would take off my cute sandals and put on a pair of old flip flops because whatever I had on was going to be soaked before I even got off the porch and my in-laws wouldn't be overly concerned about whether my shoes were cute or not. Of course, every one of the 5 or so umbrellas I own were in the car.

When they drove up, I threw a towel over my head and started toward the beauty shop. I stopped on my top front porch step and quickly surveyed the newly formed everglade -esque area between me and my shop and decided if I had a canoe or an inner tube, I could float to work. But, alas, it was just me and my flip flops which, my daughter, Taylor, informed me yesterday, were called Corky's. I had a fleeting thought that I would be OK because cork floats. (Insert giggle inside my own head. Yes, my mind really does work like that.) As I approached the newly dug field line, I realized the still fresh dirt had spread and was now too wide for me to step across. Since I didn't have an umbrella, I didn't want to spend the time walking to the end of the field line so I stopped for a moment and decided to step on the edge and hope I didn't sink too much. BAD IDEA! I sank up literally past my knees.

First leg to enter the mud. Bear in mind these only come down a little past my knees.

                                              Second leg to enter the mud.

This sudden change in footing caused me to pitch forward and take a much smaller step than I normally would have and sent the upper part of my body forward with enough force that I had to put my hands out to catch myself.  There I am standing in a deluge, knee deep in mud, hands on the ground in front of me. Soaking wet, I manage to pull my first foot free only to realize that my flip flop had remained in the quick sand like hole. It only took about 2 seconds to pull the other, also flip flopless, foot out. Corky's might float, but not to the top of very deep mud hole.

So why did I tell you all that? Partly because everyone needs at least one good laugh a day and because I'm sure you can relate. Sometimes life just seems to swarm on all of us. Sometimes it swarms in serious ways and sometimes in ways that make us laugh if we aren't afraid to laugh at ourselves. We get the loblolly taken care of and a thunderstorm hits and we are looking for our shoes. Don't get discouraged, tomorrow is another day full of possibilities. Tomorrow, I may still be barefooted, but maybe, just maybe, the sun will be shining.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:2

I can relate

Welcome to my very first blog! I'm not sure what to say. Imagine all of the whole Internet world just waiting on words to fly from my nimble little fingers and be found in a search by accident...kind of a lot of pressure for a first time blogger.

So what do I write about? I read one of those how to blog things that said you should choose a topic you are passionate and knowledgeable about but I don't think that will work for me. I cannot be expected to be passionate about the same thing all the time because I am way too random. Some days I am passionate about getting a craft project done and some days I am just passionate about getting through the day without ending up on the local news or committing some faux pas that would send my kids to therapy.

So, you may be asking why I would want to blog. I don't have anything really wise to say and I'm not an expert on any subject. I know a little about a lot of things but I don't know a lot about anything except raising kids. I have more experience at that than any sane person ever has.


 I have two brothers who are much younger than I am.

                                        From left to right: Me, David, and Cyrus

Here we are all grown up. This was a couple of Christmases ago and someone should have told me I was just a pair of goggles and a leather swim cap away from looking like Charles Lindbergh.

Anyway, I "helped raise" them as it is best described by myself and my parents. Don't misinterpret, my parents never prostituted me to get formula money and they never left me alone with them for weeks while they went on vacation, but I had to help a lot. I didn't have the mental scar inducing responsibilities that many young people today have with younger siblings, but I have been able to feed, clothe, diaper, bathe and soothe a baby in addition to being able to clean up all forms of bodily excretions without puking since before I could put my own hair in a ponytail.

 David was born when I ten and he never slept. That kid could take a 20 minute nap and be awake for the next 25 hours. If he were born today, most parents would medicate him. When Daddy told me they were expecting Cy, I was devastated and told them had to find a new hobby. David and I  shared a room and that kid NEVER slept. He finally slept all night the night Cy came home from the hospital. He was 19 months old and I swore I would never have children. But then, I went on to have 4 of my own.

 

From left to right: Joshua, Me, Garrett (our son-in-law), Shelby, Taylor and Caleb (in front)

 

 After examining my credentials and experiences and what I could share with the world, I guess the only thing I am qualified to blog about is me and my life. No one is more passionate about that or knows more about it than I do.

So, why would you want to read a blog about my life? I am also a hairdresser which is, for many people, akin to a therapist or bartender only less educated and more sober. Putting a cutting cape on someone is like giving them a dose of truth serum.  People won't lie about much when they are wearing a cutting cape. Most people are very honest about their struggles and because of this, I have discovered we are all the same. I can relate to some aspect of every life that sits in my chair and when we relate, we realize we aren't alone in whatever our struggle is. Some days we may laugh. Some days we may mourn. Some days we may discover the answer. Some days we may only find more questions. But in all of this, we will see how we relate.