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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Eating CROW, and still taking it day by day.

My day started out normal. The air heavy, wind blowing into the bed from the open window, the roughness of the air as it passes over my shoulder. I want only to cover it more deeply with the bedspread and go back to sleep, the sun is no where to be seen behind the clouds but I can tell by the traffic I had slept late because it was so dark. I’m lucky getting up by 8am is not a crime or one of the things that turns my world upside down. I was sleeping so well … after I survived my night sweats… with my earplugs, eye cover and lavender smell on my sheets.

I got up got the birds out for their breakfast, which is always a mess! But a well deserved treat and a fun time for me to see what each prefers over the other. Even just watching which hand they use, how one is picky about the texture while another could care less. At any rate 9am crept up on me quickly today. I put them all back to their room with natural light on and heat going.

On to the barn.

It wasn’t raining just yet, so I parked at the end of the drive walked up the hill for a little cardio work out to the barn. I was sweating by the time I reached the top, opened the gate allowing the horses to go down the hill at their own pace, and allowing me time to grab a few flakes of hay. I walk down with the hay make sure each flake is placed far enough away from the next so the two horses can eat with out the bother of the other. SweetPea is in on the down side of heat but is not nice when it comes to food, thanks to a previous experience AND Navarre is so food driven he would eat it all if he could.

My walk back up the pasture, closing the first gate, up the hill to the barn, closing the second gate and making sure the third gate is fastened as I crawl through the fence for my walk back down the drive to my little car.

On to the office

AFTER I figure out what I am going to eat for the next few days.
Beans, so cheap, so easy, and I use them in everything till there are no more.
I start to pour them over my hand, and as I feel the beans all I can think about is my maternal grandmother… Nanny … with the water running in her huge country sink washing the beans in a strainer after she had picked out the stones, the bad beans, and the questionable. The aluminum pot they always went into … dented, stained, warped, with a black handle and a black pull on the lid that always laid on the top of the pot as if it once fit.

Today I pick, wash, soak, and put it all in the crock pot with one container of chicken stock I made months ago, and one container of vegetable stock I made weeks ago. I get out my family receipt book and make sure I have everything for the cornbread… the fat from bacon I had to purchase just so I could make cornbread this week. It sits on the counter right now … as the beans will not be done till dinner. I can’t wait for MY house to smell as if I’m walking to my Nanny’s house about to sit at the green Formica table with she and Pawpaw. How life has its wonderful smells… How life has it’s pace… pinto’s and cornbread… cheap, filling, and reminiscent of times I wish I could create… have just created…

While no one is here other than Jerry to share this with,(who doesn't have the same memories) surely you can remember a simple food, a simple time, a great memory to share… tell me!

As I am pondering, taking pictures??? For this post… my phone rings. Olivia Henry it says. Betsy and I have a nice little talk.

On to the Office I kept telling my self.

On to eating crow so I can have a pleasant day.

My life at work consist of being the most stupid animal on the planet. “Sit there and look pretty” someone said to me the other day… The words I wanted to say back are not worth the post but I apparently with out realizing it took out my frustrations on men the rest of the day. So I wrote one who was nice enough, strong enough to call me out on it.
The truth is I don’t want to be a hateful person. I don’t want to be a woman who has to worry about being better and stronger than I really am. But I get so much “crap” and take so much from men whom most probably don’t know the difference between a standard or a Phillips and assume I’m a pet rock of Jerry’s.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have so much of a roll in a motorcycle business. Sometimes I wish I rode motorcycles and could tell them where to put it. Sometimes I wish I could just tell them how stupid they sound… my car, my boat, my third house……

At least I do have a brain and can put most in their place with simple math, but work is a struggle when you are a woman in a man’s world. While women still only get paid 77 cents on every dollar a man makes… I have to say I know more about K1200’s in general than even a lot of the dealer mechanics that call me for help. But sometimes I wish I didn’t … sometimes I wish I could be the “type” of woman they think I am; being taken care of and pampered all the time.

Instead… I probably do more physical labor than most of these guys. I am what I am; and I’m not stupid, I’m not a pampered woman and I’m not what other women have called me… “a token wife” although sometimes for a weekend vacation , I wish I was, three days of this type of vacation and I'd be ready to get dirty again.

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