Warm Fuzzy Winter Pity

In winter, I always feel a little bit sorry for homes that don't have old radiators to warm their boots and toast their gloves dry.

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What’s in a Name?

It’s become clear to me that any self-respecting property larger than a postage stamp has to have a name. The internet is full of people who had the imagination and foresight to call their residence something more than “random number assigned by government body on County Road 422.” Just a few of the lyrical pretties I’ve stumbled upon: “Spring Thyme Farm,” “High Hopes Farm,” and “High Winds Ranch.”

I have long wanted to name our own meager acreage but have been stumped by the sense that we have exactly 12 acres and no livestock save a few goats, dogs, and some (human) kids. I fear being “all hat, no cattle” as they say about pretentious urban farm types.

Always willing to throw someone ELSE under the bus, I figured that Mr. Wonderful did grow up on a farm and thus he has the street cred (field cred?) to name a place if he wants.

What he wants, of course, is to be left alone.

I say “Honey we should name our house!”
 
He says “it has a name, I call it “home.”

My top choices are "Muddy Lane" or "Long Lane" (our home sits down what natives to the region call a long dirt "lane" (that would be driveway to you and I).

I’m leaning toward the latter because every single native type person has said the same thing when I explain where we live. I give lots of really great directions such as “it’s kind of far past the red barn but not the BIG red barn, the smaller one, and the kind of blue-green house that needs painted. It’s on the right. Except if you are coming from the other direction, then it’s on the left.”  I can’t imagine why they don’t find us.

Invariably they finally track us down, probably losing a portion of their vehicle's undercarriage along the way,  to say, exasperated, “Why didn’t you just SAY you live down the long lane?”


So now, just in the space of this blog post, I think I’m simply going to replace “I do?” with “I do!”

“Long Lane.” It’s pretty right? Not too pretentious since it's true?

Granted, Long Lane can be both a lovely visual image, or a good name for an insane asylum.

Either way, we're good.












I'm linking this up on Farm Friend's Friday in hopes some savvy rural types can lend me a hand - or at the very least stop me from making a fool of myself down at the feed store ... 

Jagger would like the record to reflect that we have had too da@# much snow.

Proof Positive that Mr. Wonderful has always been very cool.

Blog Update In progress

Please excuse wonky blog settings and general disarray. Blog update currently under progress ...

Talkin' The Talk

hWe are home from "The Talk."

"The Talk" has consumed our thoughts, plans, and dread fear of freezing like a deer in the headlights in front of a roomful of lovely women for weeks. Okay, that last one was all mine. Mr. Wonderful and the little wonders were most consumed with packing bathing suits and planning their assault on one of the many water slides.

"The Talk" was the result of a very kind invitation of Heather Schofield of Dairy Farmers of America (DFA) who bravely in light of my complete novice status as a public speaker invited me to speak on a general topic of social media and the value it can add to our lives as the ladies session during a three day conference held in the beautiful Cherry Valley Lodge and Cocoa Key Resort

It was my pleasure in every sense of the word. 

If any of the ladies who so kindly attended happen up on this blog I would like to thank them, from the bottom of my nerdy little writer's heart, for being so welcoming to someone who normally works in the silent, solitude of home in pajama pants and one of her husband's old tee-shirts.

They came, they listened - even better they RESPONDED and brought their own wonderful ideas. I think I learned as much from them as they could even politely pretend to have learned from me.

Real life

You know all those bloggers that post photos of their awesomely decorated and oh-so-perfect organized homes and lives?

I am not one of those bloggers. I am the blogger who would like to share with you real life, c. 2011, in a 100+ year old house currently taken hostage by love beads, peace signs, and the wild tornado that is an 11 year old girl getting ready for a dance.

I like to imagine my house has a heart - and memories. I imagine it thinking hmm... I know I've seen that Peace sign somewhere before ... Probably about forty years ago along with the happy mess of the families it has sheltered for generations.

House Beautiful, eat your heart out. I wouldn't miss this for the world.