The Clutch of Stuff

I do not have “nice” things. This is has been a deliberate life style choice on my part, and not always without effort, for I like nice things, things with luster, depth and quality. However at some distant point in my life, I came to the realization that I never wanted to care more about my things than I do about the people in my life. So by assiduously avoiding indulgence, I have managed to cultivate the ability to shrug it off and move on when accidents happened and my possessions become marred or broken. I am not saying it is easy, for you can become quite fond of something just because of the longevity of its usefulness, but that sadness is one I can accept, it is cost factor shaming that I strove to eliminate.

I am not really sure why I started out this evening writing about things, unless of course it was my minds way of reminding me that I am not actually in reduced circumstances, even if at first glance, one might assume so in error.  For my riches are boundless, they are just not tangible in the sense that you can lay hands upon them and hold them tight. For they are in my relationships. Relationships with family, with friends, and with a good and loving God.

However, I have noticed a slow creep of don’t touch that accumulation happening in one area of my life, tools. For slowly over the years we have purchased many and sundry tools. They are expensive and finite in their use, and replacing them would be cost prohibitive. It bothers me, this intrusion, and this just won’t do. This clutching inability to share because of money.

Perhaps it is time to reevaluate. Perhaps it is time to grow and stretch my boundaries, to take a risk. Like maybe stepping out in faith that I will still put relationships first, even if it cost me dearly. For the way I have been approaching this conundrum of things vs people has truly been superficial and it’s about time I reached in deeper and let my heart grow several sizes too big, Lord willing that is.

❤️ Blessings Belinda

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August….sigh

chair

 

This wonderful old chair of mine is such a comfort come the end of the day. Yes it is treacherous, and devours my belongings and time in a gluttonously unacceptable manner, but I am okay with, wait maybe not okay, reconciled, to the loss. Especially in August. Hot long August; the month of sloth.

August is so appropriately named, really say it slowly and draw it out Auuuuuuuggggguuuusst. See, there is lots of angst and huffing and puffing in August.

September is not much better weather wise, but somehow, the popping up of apples and pumpkins, and the deep colors and calm I associate with fall, have me cutting September quite a bit of slack when it sizzles me to a crisp if I happen to forget, and foolishly venture out in the middle of the day.

Still,  if I do manage to forget, or must go out, and the unavoidable heat induced exhaustion descends, my pal, my never complaining piece of poaching upholstery, is always waiting, quietly, patiently, to sooth and ease the steamy glowing crinkles from inside out. Oh yes, my chair brings comfort to the body and soul. For it is where God finds me still ❤️

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Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

Life Goes On……….

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Number two son took pity on me and ravaged the rat hedge! He chopped and stomped and filled the greens waste bins to maximum capacity, and in doing so, removed the majority of the nest. After trash pick up day the balance will easily fit in the empty bins, and I will be comfortable tackling it, for the rats have fled. Where, I don’t want to think about today.

We then huddled and pondered the shorn links and knew that something had to be done to address their exposing nakedness. Thankfully an epiphany dawned.  We were repairing, not replacing the existing fence, therefore a trip to city hall became unnecessary, thus we gave ourselves over to change. Unfortunately, this panel will be lonely for awhile. Waiting for the next repair to eventually join it in all its costly splendor.

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Guess what, there was a gate buried beneath the jungle of vines. We are still tossing the idea of keeping it back and forth, waiting for it to land.

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Look, see, whata ya know. The barbecue rubble was useful after all. Snort.

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I caught her in the act. She is an egg eater. Ever since I banished Clementine from the coop we are getting brown eggs again. She never ate the green ones, their shells are as hard as rocks. Clementine does not lay anymore, we have had her for five moves now, which easily puts her at six or more years old. When I banished Clementine, Baby, the white eared chicken, ran out and joined her. She refuses to return to the inside, and I am not inclined to make her. It is not because Baby also doesn’t lay. It is that these two have been together forever, we bought them as tiny chicks the same day, and besides these chickens are not just for eggs, they are pets too, so I let them hang around, until they don’t.

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Well, now I have a problem. I really do not want to come out one day and find the aftermath of a raccoon, but this is the black chicken. This is Batman’s chicken, so number two grandson was most distressed when he heard I had arranged to give her a new home. For you see, he has a black bunny, and a black dog, and a black chicken. Sigh…….

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The boys harvested their first crop of corn. We had it for dinner that night, and it was scrumdiddlyumptious.

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Looking at the door in the picture with the corny boys reminded me of the window repair adventure number one daughter has commenced upon. She has finished these two. It is so satisfying to have a window for the living room. It has been non-functional for the last fifteen years!

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Her window adventure has been temporarily moored in the shoals by the winds blowing off the rat hedge, and a new commission for a custom piece of jewelry. The pause has given me time to decide upon a color for the house, and white on white on white on white, has been selected. I tell myself that it is not because I am cheap, only practical. For as I did a bit of reading regarding pigment, heat, longevity, etc…… It became apparent that the more pigment you put into your paint, the shorter its life span. Well, I never want to have to do this again, so the least pigment I could come up with was white. Now I just need stand firm and quell the rebellion the color guard has begun.

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Besides, when we get done with all the landscaping I have in mind, and the plants mature and flower and lush up the place, color would just be superfluous anyways.

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On a happy note. I have made my peace with the lemon monster that resides in the far corner of my kingdom. For my grandson is making and selling lemonade to help pay his way to Camp Cherry Valley on Catalina Island. It will take a lot of juicing and cooking to make enough lemonade to pay his way. I will say though, it is so tasty that as soon as he sets up, it goes, and most people want seconds. So I have learned to love this prolific monster for helping to teach my grandson the value of hard work, and the joy of a dollar earned from it. For with his lemonade income, along with the recycling he collects, sorts, and ferries to the recycling center in his little red wagon, I am sure he will reach his goal all by himself, and what a thrill that will be for him.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him all creatures here below,

Praise Him all ye heavenly hosts,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

❤️ Blessings Belinda

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Day Book 12

August 07 2016

  • The weather is cooler 😎
  • Honey bought a house, moving day is in two weeks 😄
  • Liebe Lee is in love 😍
  • I might just sell the house and move.😶
  • I have lost 15 pounds 😝
  • My words are still in full retreat 😁
  • I still have not made it back to church 😟

So there is more good than bad, but those bad ones are a doozies.

❤️ Blessings Belinda

 

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Day Book 11

August 4, 2016

My days are running together and leaving me feeling like time is slip, slip,slipping away. I so do not want to just survive in a wasted life, but I just can’t seem to muster up the necessary; the impetus to change. Then again my life has been wracked by too many foolish and impetuous acts, which have caused much too much grief to me and mine, thus I have become hesitant, no suspicious of flying.

Still, lives been good to me so far, so I feel foolish to complain, about it being too mundane.

🤔😞🙄😒🤗😜😝😎

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