I’d love to leave you the impression that I live on a sprawling, open, isolated huge amount of land out in the middle of nowhere.  But I’d be lying to you if I left you that impression. I live in a trailer house next to a highway, next to a railroad track. 

Joy.

There are things I love about living here and things I hate. 

 As I look out my window, propped up in my bed with a laptop on my lap, hence the name, I see Freak, Jason’s new horse trying desperately to get his freak on with a mare in the next pasture.  I called my husband earlier to say, “Hey, just so  you know, your next problem is that the mare is in heat”.  But it appears Freak has been cut, according to J-Dub, but they’re still necking across the fence, whinnying ever so lightly, and it’s actually making me a bit sick to my stomach.  I think I’ll go run him off.  It reminds me of the time as a young girl, I went barreling into my teenage brothers place to tell him and his teenage friends they must come quick.  I needed help.  Two dogs were stuck together butt to butt in the alley and wouldn’t come apart.  I can’t remember my brother’s response only the laughter from the friends as I left dejected wondering how in the world I would ever help these dogs unhook themselves from each other so they could get on with life.  I’ve learned a thing or two since then. 

Looking out my window tonight, I see 5 red angus calves in the neighbor’s pasture frolicking.  Their mothers chew their cud, shake their heads, and mutter, “those kids, whatever are we going to do with them?”  They actually run quite fast, especially when you’re on a horse chasing one.  I wouldn’t know, but my husband could tell you.  His tooth is finally tightened back up.  Recently, he chased a calf on horseback, roped him, dismounted his horse with a string doubled over in his mouth, ran to the calf  to tie his legs, only to find one of the strings to have fallen from his mouth.  He stepped on it inadvertently, while the other part remained in his mouth, and nearly ripped his tooth from his head.  It took a couple of weeks of eating gingerly before he could really bite into a steak again.

Looking out my window I see 14 chickens who make the most pleasant sounds in all the world clucking around in the their chicken yard as the sun goes down.  I’m working on a children’s book, The Crazy Chicken Lady.  Yes, it’s a tiny bit autobiographical. 

Then the train whistle blows, partially disturbing my peace, but I’m partially used to it by now. 

Sometimes I ask myself, like tonight for example, did I make the right choice? Leaving a moderately nice town home to move into a trailer house in the country?  We need a new roof, our fence is falling down, and water lines need digging.  The wind constantly blows, the dirt becomes a second skin, and the skunks’ odor burns my nostrils. 

Sometimes as human “beans “we yearn, don’t we.  Aren’t we always working towards something else, wondering what else is there, or is just my age and generation? Or maybe it’s just me.   Tonight I’m home alone, pondering all the world’s problems.  I’m reminded of a Bible verse: 

Phillipians 11-1311 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Isn’t God good?  Have you experienced the goodness of God?  I desperately hope you have.  The  things of this world are so miniscule compared to what we have to experience in the presence of the Living and Holy God. 

I haven’t turned my TV on to see the royal wedding.  I didn’t even know it was taking place until Wednesday when someone told me they were planning on recording it,  and then looked at me as if I live in a hole when I didn’t know of what they spoke.  Well okay, I do live in a hole,  a small one.  But my hole isn’t terrible and I’ve hung pictures finally, so it’s more like a homely hole. A homely hovel.  With a  leaning fence and shingles missing from the roof, and train whistles every half hour.  Oh well, it’s at least a roof over my head.  What else do I need?  

I hope you are happy today, dear friend.  Now I must go pen the chickens.

Until tomorrow,

Angel