slow progress

IMG_1182 Don’t ask me why I’m posting this, just a brain dead sort of day where I don’t have much on my mind.

This is my laundry room, which also double as a pantry, and it’s the place where Pickles sleeps.

We moved back in 2 years ago and I never figured out how to organize this busy little spot in our house.

I had shamelessly picked this shelf out of the garbage and Dalton gave it a semi-sloppy paint job. Then is sat in my shed.

Brodis little dresser was in that spot, but I moved it by the sofa since it’s the height of a side table.

Now to finish this mess of a project… I’ve really got no motivation, but I have 90% of it worked out in my head so I might as well attemp some more.


When you know your home

IMG_1177Home is a feeling, a big one.

We stumbled upon ours in 2007  while walking our beloved Max, a homely Boston terrier with a limp, and one eye, but he always had a smile on his adorable face.

We decided to walk down an alley, seeing a sad house with an overgrown yard and a sale sign, things started to line up right away.

After several attempts at home ownership we had given up.

We walked around back, I don’t  remember peaking in, just sitting on the back porch, facing a jungle of a yard, and feeling so deeply that this was home.

or at least a home to someone… at some point…

It was apparent this house was empty, and equally apparent that you could stay here and no one would notice.

I was at peace. Me and max returned every morning and evening, we sat on the back porch alone, listening to birds and dreaming of things yet to come.

I came up with a theory that the land had a way of drawing people in, not expecting to become the owner.

10 years down the road, I pull in  with my two bratty kids that I also imagined raising on the land that might have sucked me in.

That jungle is now a full fledged back yard, and the lonely house has become our home.

The visions and improvements for this home came to no one but us, I firmly beleive we saved this house, and, well I can only speak for myself, but this house also saved me in a way.

Even the time we moved out I came here for peace. It tethered me to itself.

I wrote three suicide notes here that automatically became useless because I could not end my life here. It would doom this place I loved.

I wrote an unpublished book here.

I even set out on a crazed mission to make it my families home, something I could leave behind for them. If I couldn’t do anything else, I could do my best to take care of them.

As I long for one more bedroom I remind myself of my own childhood, how we moved so many times in order to make things better somehome.

It never worked, and I always wanted to see what it felt like to make things work where you are despite the difficulties of the place.

I never had that, and now it feels like I’m punishing my family by asking for it, but I know better neighborhoods, better schools, better houses, better jobs, they really aren’t any better. If anything they just get you lost.

I love this home we’ve made, and when returning here is still an option, leaving here will always be a harder option for me.






She’s not so bad (And we have an identity crisis)


Marry Queen of Scotts… I only know of her younger years so far, and honestly she’s a lot better than I used to think.

For some reason I used to cringe at her name, but it’s confusing because so many generations of Kings and Queens shared the same names.

That must be an awful feeling. I personally feel completely disconnected to the name I was given at birth.

But that’s different story, and Anne with an “E” aka L.M. Montgomery would surely agree with me, I mean who who dies and leaves a legacy of littiture and we only know her by her initials? Perhaps someone who was named by an exhausted mother, or a stranger, someone who’s name seems to have no reason behind it.

Back to Mary the Queen of Scott’s, I guess she mostly raised by nuns who kept her hidden away for safety, she actually loved her husband even though the marriage was arranged.

She was hated by England and France, but she was caring and friendly to their royal children, she’d comfort them and take care of them. I imagine she related to them.

Those kids were treaties, alliences, you get the idea, they were practically conceived for bargaining.

A life sized version of chess involving real lives.

So maybe I see them differently, despite the bitter states they were driven to, the real people underneath it all were actually normal at one time, normal… more like their true self I guess

Manipulation is as old as time

I’ve been doing a little bit of lazy reasearch/ learning about royalty from the castle/knight/king and queen times.

I usually go through similar phases about this time every year b/c I’m looking forward to the renaissance festival.

(Random fact- we call ours the ‘village of Willy Nilly’ and our Queen is the virgin queen Elizebeth, and she’s a bit of a comedian)

On a more serious note, and almost saddening, I’m starting to see why they were so quick to behead someone for crimes of treason.

The royals seemed to fall into two categories, the larger one being family members, the smaller one being the future or current kings and queens.

The smaller group were practically living breathing targets. I imagine the world felt very small to them, and their own little worlds were probably a mere corner in their mind.

The assisnation attempts would start as soon as they were born.

But that larger group of royals- the family members, they had a little more freedom, maybe the world felt bigger and better to them, maybe they were just slightly more in touch.

More importantly though, you have to realize most the people back then felt imprisoned or in service to others to a certain extent.

Their class system appears drastic at fist, but really they were all a little more equal than we think.

And when every other day someone dies as a result you being the target of an assisnation, and you are witnessing these deaths b/c someone put on your clothes, or drank your wine that night, it’s no wonder you’d loose your apathy for those committing treason against you.

It all works out

Do you ever go a little while not worrying so much about things like finishing painting that fence, or the dishes that have been waiting to be washed.

And then, suddenly you have the urge to do those things b/c you just got digusted by yourself?

It feels like procrastination is the thing that can really get you moving after a while.

Adam took Brodi to an amusement park this morning, I’ll have to pick him up later.

I should do something productive with my time. But I also don’t want to move. Maybe even nap a little, since I woke up at 5am.

I heard an explanation of these feelings once but I can’t do a good job at retelling it.

It basically ends with procrastination isn’t really as lazy as society makes you feel, it’s more about the perfect timing of things.

And also finding that thing that feels good to do at the moment.

So there, I just gave you my support if your looking for a reason to do less work right now.

Maybe by sitting here for just a while is the work, and when it’s done we’ll have remembered something or felt the urge to quickly do something with impeccable timing.

Think thoughts vs receive thoughts

Sometimes things don’t make sense while they’re happening, but when you look back you can connect the dots.

You can see your thoughts separate from the thoughts that were being projected on you, but at the time they were just mixed up.

And if you really want to drive yourself crazy- have you ever wondered where your own thoughts come from?

Did you make them up, or did you receive them? Who’s the thinker behind your thoughts? Are they really your own? Is there an original thought left to think anymore?

I can’t claim ownership to everything b/c sometimes I grasp it and sometimes I don’t, but I know I can fairly easily if I want to.

Paranormal activity (no, not the movie)

I haven’t really written about this subject in a long time. I feel like what I experience is meant for me and other ppl won’t really care that much about it.

I have experienced people close to me passing away, I have to say it’s always hit someone I didn’t expect, so I’ve always felt like my time with these ppl has been cut short.

Death really hits me hard, it’s a snowball effect, so when I mourn it’s never for one person, it’s for every person that has departed in my life.

They still keep in contact though.

Ive only been visited repeatedly by one ghost that I didn’t know while they were still alive.

I know her now, the others I knew in life so they have never had a way of announcing themselves to me. They just show up once in a while.

Tonight I was on a cleaning spree, everyone was out of the house, that’s why I was moving along through my chores, I walked into the kids room to put some of their things away, but I walked in there to a boy who died at the same age as Dalton is now, sitting on his bed.

This caught me so off guard, I never expected it, I felt my heart stop beating for a moment, I backed away.

He only looked up at me and he seemed to be deep in thought. He was a couple years younger than me when he passed, but there towards the end we had started to somehow become closer.

Maybe it was our similar issues, and we took the same bus to an ‘alternative’ school. (aka that school where they send all the bad kids)

I seen his brothers and sisters place their hands on his at the funeral, his cousins. His mom breaking down so hard at the end when they closed the casket an wheeled it out.

I couldn’t move the whole time, actually I had stood in the doorway looking in the majority or the time, paralyzed there, if I stepped forward I was afraid I too would be falling apart, but moving away was not an option.

He has haunted me every since.

And Dalton is so close to my heart, I feel I re-live each day of my childhood as he lives his, and our times lines match up so perfectly it’s freaky.

Then I see Camrens ghost sitting on Daltons bed, deep in thought, this would be the age he died, perhaps all three of us are connected in some strange timeline that none of us fully grasp.

We all experienced trauma at 13, none of our parents knew exactly what to do, although I must say at least I was aware of Dalton at all times so he was less alone than Camron and I were. I feel like I spent that whole year sitting in the doorway of Daltons room, usually holding back tears and offering as much love as I could.

Rainy day blues

It’s been raining all day, at first I didn’t mind, but I’m getting a little brain dead from it now.

Pickles hates the rain, but he also hates being inside also so I’ve made a terrible roof for his pin outside.

I started to work on a better solution but I’m stuck at the moment w/o room to build inside, and not wanting to work for hours in the rain. Poor piggy will have to wait.

Nothing inside feels right. I need some change, something to mix it up.


Okay, so I want to start a project like the ones you see in the pictures.

My personal problem is that I need to find a way to make a lump sum of cash, because saving has been somewhat of a stressful failure so far.

These lil pop-up camper makeovers are literally all-in for under $1,000. I found a camper for sale that would work for $600.

On a different topic, being a stay at home parent can be so incredibly isolating. I’m going nuts.

But everything that people think would help is not helpful. Or maybe people just go about it the wrong way.

So, I’ll just here searching for projects and ideas that seem achievable.

And other thoughts that will help my sanity.


vintage scraps


I’ve been on a cleaning spree, it’s actually slow moving, but I’m done for the night.

Yes, it’s partially due to having Daltons 14th birthday tomorrow. (You wouldn’t beleive how hard that is to accept).

But it’s more for my own comfort and peace of mind. People see me cleaning every nook and cranny and try to tell me to calm down and relax. What they don’t get is that it calms and relaxes me to see things coming together.

But that’s all just mindless work really. What you see in my picture is my “vintage” scrap book. Tonight I glued down a postage stamp sized photo of a little boy.

I thought I’d lost that tiny picture until tonight when I was ripping apart my bedroom.

I also inked some pencil handwriting with my colligraphy pen.

I almost want to just fall asleep now, but it’s early for me. I don’t know… just mixed up feelings I guess.