Hearing the Quiet - Taking a Break from Facebook

I know, I know, lots of people do it.
And, it's not as if this is some profound statement/action that should be recognized as such.
I have, also, completed my first week of my six week exercise challenge -
   20 minutes of power walking, and at least 20 push-ups a day for 6 days, each week,
which is way more impressive than refraining from wasting away hours on a social network site. 

Anxiety is what led me to do it.

I did not realize how much Facebook was contributing to my anxiety, until I left it.
It has only been a week, and my brain feels so much more. . . quiet. 
And, when I have a thought worth sharing, I share it with my husband,
or with other tangibles in my life, instead of throwing it out there and seeing where it sticks.

The thing is, I always felt like I had a healthy relationship with Facebook.

For me, it was mostly a creative outlet -
   a place where I could post my daily photos, and random thoughts about life.
I tried to keep it light and fun, though I would occasionally slip up and let my emotions,
my personal, or my political beliefs get the best of me, which I would usually regret.
For the most part, though, if I enjoyed something, or if I saw humor, or beauty,
   if something made me think, or if I saw irony, or if I learned something,
or if there was something I was proud of, I would share it.

I enjoyed others who used Facebook in the same way. 

But, I increasingly saw lots of posts that made me feel much like I was reading through
   my old high school year book. I did not enjoy high school.
There were parts of it, and people whom I enjoyed, but in general, high school made me anxious.
I spent most of my teenage years in it, and yet, very little of it seemed REAL.
Much like how I started to feel about Facebook. 

I am under no illusions.

I have only been away for a short time, and though I am in no hurry,
   I know I will eventually return. Good, bad, or otherwise,
Facebook is the place where people communicate important information and events.
I missed one notification, already. Good thing I know people who are still on Facebook,
   with whom my only communication isn't through Facebook.

If I were on Facebook, today, I would probably post a photo, or a video
of the snow that is gently falling. It is a lazy, Sunday afternoon; even the dogs are napping.
I am doing some writing,
   everything is still, and. . . quiet. 

Unleashed

Don't let his expression fool you. He is lucky he is still alive. He is lucky he is so darn cute.

Yesterday, just as a fast moving storm was about to unleash upon the earth,
Charlie decided to chase my neighbor's car.

"Charlie!" I yelled.

"CHAR-LIE!!!" I yelled, again.

But, he did not listen.
He chased that Subaru, as if it was his last important mission.
I tried to chase after him, but I was wearing two-inch wedged flip flops,
and my feet kept falling off the edges of my shoes.

And, suddenly, it was POURING.

I decided to turn back toward the house.
The wind was blowing the rain sideways, and into my eyes, which made it difficult to see,
especially with contact lenses.
I tried to cover my eyes with my hands, but there was just SO MUCH RAIN.
My feet began slipping all over my shoes, so I took them off, but it hurt too much to walk on the sharp gravel, even with the buffer of the soft, thick mud.
I made it to the stairs, and as I began to walk up towards the front door,
Charlie blew past me.
He stood at the top, wagging his tail,
looking at me as if he had just experienced the adventure of a lifetime.

Wasn't that fun? Wasn't that fun? Wasn't that fun?

Can we go inside, now? Can we go inside, now?

I'm really wet! I'm really wet!

Completely soaked to the bone, hair, dripping wet, feet - covered in mud,
contact lenses,barely holding on to my eyes, and steam, coming out of my ears,
I opened the front door, where my 9 year-old stepson stood there, and said,

"OH, my GOD!!!"

Not sure if God, or anybody can save that dog, right now, I said to myself.

"Can you get me some towels?" I asked.

Like I said, good thing he's so darn cute.

The Forgotten Banana

We decided to try a 3-day cleanse. What does that mean?

A LONG list of groceries, and a LOT of time, organizing and prepping for meals. 

"Why are we doing this?"asked Mike.

"I'm not sure," I realized. "Oh, YES! It's supposed to reboot our metabolism."

IT'S JUST 3 DAYS. WE CAN DO THIS!

Day 1 (Breakfast):

1 egg, 2 egg whites, with sliced cherry tomatoes, basil 

   (but, I forgot to buy basil, so I used spinach), and a sprinkle of parmesan cheese

Coffee, with 2 tablespoons 1% milk, or 1 tablespoon half & half 

1 banana

   "This coffee looks really watery,"said Mike.  

   "Hmmm. Maybe it's because it is not our usual coffee (that I did not intend to purchase)," 

I replied.  

   "How much half & half am I allowed?"Mike asked.

   "One of these," I said, as I handed him the teeny tiny little spoon.

    Look of disbelief.  

   "Did you intend to buy lactose free half & half?" Mike asked, as he showed me the carton.

   

   "Ummm, no," I responded, unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. 

   "For someone who is a creature of habit, this sure is a lot of changes for one day,"said Mike.

Later that morning . . . 

   "OH, shit. He forgot his banana." 

Morning Bus Stop

We stepped outside the back door, where early morning greeted us;
   the sounds of nearby hawks, awakened us.
Charlie dove out into the cool air, sniffing his way through the long grasses.
Now, mid-November, most of the Autumn colors have turned into various shades of brown.

We piled into the car, and drove down the gravel drive, feeling the grit beneath the tires.
Around the corner, we followed the fence line, where the cows in the neighboring field
   were enjoying their morning graze.
Just beyond,  evergreen trees popped out against the gray clouds.
And, as we drove to the bottom of the hill, two young deer cautiously entered our path,
their mother, not in sight - just behind, or just ahead.

And, beyond the gravel drive, the grit in the tires, the grazing cows,
   beyond the evergreens, the two young deer (and their mom),

red, flashing lights, on a yellow school bus.













    

Truth or Coincidence? For the Love of Scrambled Eggs

Once upon a time, I started feeding Charlie scrambled eggs.

Just a few crumbles, in the morning, on top of his regular food.
He used to be patient.
I would eat my eggs, first, allowing time for his eggs to cool.
And, he would sit quietly.

As time went on, however, he grew less patient,
staring at me, at first, with with his wide, chestnut brown eyes,
as if willing me to pour the eggs from the pan;
eventually, adding a whimper, or a small grunt,
progressing into an impatient bark, or two.

Sometimes, I forget about the eggs, cooling in the pan.

Charlie will intentionally position himself directly in front of me, and with several loud,
demanding barks, let me know that he is no longer messing around.

This morning, I forgot.

I was engaged in a television program, when suddenly, the show paused.
I looked over to my left, where, two cushions over, sat the remote.
And, next to the remote, sat Charlie, staring at me with those pleading eyes.

Coincidence? Probably.
But, somehow, Charlie had pressed the pause button with his paw,
which reminded me about his eggs, cooling in the pan.

Only Charlie knows the truth, and he knows he loves his eggs.

My New Normal

We were out of eggs.

Jack, 21, and Logan, 8, rode their bikes down the lane to pick up some farm fresh eggs and peppers,
and surprised me with some hand-picked flowers, beautifully arranged in a mason jar. Scrambled eggs, with basil (from a local, hydroponic farm), oven roasted peppers, and cinnamon french toast, like the kind I made when the older kids were younger.

Sunday morning breakfast.

The sun was trying hard to break through the cloud covered sky, and the temperature was just pleasant enough to open up a few windows,allowing the fresh, country air indoors. After breakfast, the hypnotic breeze drew me outdoors, onto the front porch, where I sat, and watched, and listened.
Tall grasses, blowing, large birds (maybe hawks, or the less popular vultures), soaring; tree shadows, reaching across the land. Butterflies. Monarch butterflies! Dancing, all around.

This is where I live, now, and I can't believe it's not temporary.
And, I wonder if it will ever get old.

New Neighbors: Ignorance is Bliss

There are cows in my backyard.

I can see them from every window, across the back of my house.
Technically, they are not in MY yard, but in the pasture, behind.
And, they are not MY cows, but belong to the farm, just beyond.

Still, every day, I see them.

There is comfort in knowing that they are there.

Tan, and brown - some, with patches of white, they saunter along the field.
Their tails, like tassels, on an old-fashioned shade, swish back and forth;
their ears, twitching, reacting, to the subtle sounds around.

Sometimes, they lie down in the field, resting from hours of grazing,
   almost disappearing into the landscape.
So "chill", these cows.
Whatever their fate, they look healthy, relaxed . . . content.

Charlie cannot see them.
He is too small, and the windows, too high.
Only from atop the brown chair, in the living room.

He has, yet, to meet them up close,
   and though I would imagine it is only a matter of time before he does,
it is best that he does not.
If he is as relentless with the cows, as he was with the squirrels, back home,
he will yap at those poor cows for HOURS.

It is a temporary peace.