Friday, July 31, 2015

Must Love Creating

   
Whatisit?Whatisit?Whatisit?
(I can't tell you. It's a SUR-prize, SUR-prize, SUR-prize!)
#lovemyneighbors
     So I know I'm creative, but either I'm contagious or you just have to be creative to live on my street... (might be something in the water?)
     As if it weren't enough that I have the greatest neighbors in the world...
     --neighbors who know how to fix things...
     --neighbors who'll share their tools, or better yet, do it for me while they're out bush hogging' their own...
     I also happen to have very smart neighbors...very crafty...very creative neighbors...Neighbors who are good with math and figuring things out; neighbors with jigsaws who aren't afraid to use 'em!
      Cracks me up that one of my sweet neighbors went out and found a project all by himself that is so cute I can hardly stand it! (File this under: be careful what you ask for! If it turns out like I think it will, you're gonna want one too, I guarantee it!)
      You'll just have to stay tuned...
      (Don't want to spoil the surprise!)

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Tuesday: Day in Need of a Press Agent

     I love Tuesday. But at the same time I'm sad for Tuesday because I think Tuesday gets no respect. Tuesday is the only day of the week that anything really gets done if you think about it. Tuesdays are when everything that's ever gonna be, starts. The best meeting day of the week is Tuesday, after all, Mondays give you heart attacks, Wednesdays mean you're halfway done. Thursdays are just practice runs for Fridays, and...well, we all know about Saturdays and Sundays. (You gotta use those days to brace for Mondays.)
      The origin of anything that's anything in our physical world today, I'm convinced, started on a Tuesday. Tuesdays are the silent, no-frills, gets-no-credit, has no identity, gets-no-slogan-of-its-own kinda day leaving it clear and free to actually be productive. It's the Jan Brady of work days... The Rodney Dangerfield of all days.
     When given a choice for scheduling meetings "out there" (as in not so urgent we must schedule NOW or this needs to happen tomorrow) do you not pick Tuesdays? I do. Tuesdays are safe days. When flipping the calendar page to a week with nothing on it, does not your pen just gravitate to Tuesday? Tuesdays are so safe they borderline boring, but don't be fooled. Tuesdays deserve more credit in my book...I'll even go so far as to say they deserve ALL the credit as far as work goes....Tuesdays may be the only real work day of our week when it gets down to it. Tuesdays rock. Tuesdays are stealth.
     Of course Sundays are God's day...the teacher's pet of days. (We know this because the Bible tells us so.) You can't get much loftier than Sunday. What's more, did you know there are more Sunday songs than any other day of the week? (I know. I just googled it.) There's "Sunday, Sunday" by Joni Mitchell, "Lazy on a Sunday Afternoon" by Sting...The Shirelles met him on a Sunday, a Sunday, a Sunday... and Kris Kristofferson wrote about "Sunday Morning Comin' Down" Why? Because all too soon it will be...
     Monday. Synonymous with heart attacks everywhere, in ever culture around the globe, Mondays are the shock-your-heart days when your peaceful, personal, weekend time collides abruptly with what pays for your peaceful, personal life. You don't book anything on Mondays if you can help it, that is unless you just like adding a layer of extra stress going in. Rainy Days and Mondays ALWAYS get us down. (And when it's raining ON a Monday...you might as well just go ahead and jump. ARGH!)
     Wednesday's used to be productive. But now they have a fan base and Twitter following all their own thanks to that goofy camel walking around cubicles asking "Know what day it is? Know what DAY THIS IS? MikeMikeMikeMikeMike"  It's HUMP day~  Yep. We've pretty much ruined it for Wednesday (thank you Geico reptile).
     Thursdays USED to be a lot like Tuesdays, but anymore, Thursdays are just warm ups for Fridays...precursor to the weekend you're already starting to fantasize about, which means, you probably don't want to plan anything TOO critical by way of your team's mental focus, not unless you've renewed everyone's Adderal prescription. Thursdays are just Fridays waiting to happen.
     And then there is ...(wait for it ....WAIT for it)
     (Thank God It's) FRIDAY!! Yep. The day we've all been waiting for. TGIF! We've got restaurants; We got songs. We got your Girl Fridays, your Friday Night Lights...Friday doesn't need our help. Friday has attitude all its own...after all, she's up against...

     S A T you are D A Y -- NIGHT!
     S A T you are D A Y -- NIGHT!
   
     I mean seriously. Saturday comes with its own cheerleading squad, THAT's how much we love Saturday. Songwriters love Saturdays. Home Depot loves Saturdays. All God's children love Saturdays, Why? Because we still have Sunday to sleep it all off.
     For my money, Tuesday is the best, most honest day of the week. It's the only real day, the only pure day. It's the only day of the week not caught up in its own hype. Tuesdays are the self actualized day of days as Tuesdays are perfectly content to go along/get along and be the incubator day to nurture all our working efforts everywhere.
     So here's to your happy Tuesday everybody. I hope you get a lot of stuff done. If you do, you have Tuesday to thank. (Don't forget to thank your day!)

Friday, July 24, 2015

Bee Still My Heart!

     (Editor's Note: Some weeks get more backed up than others; this was one of those weeks. With gardens coming in, new fencing underway, not to mention new births, the ongoing saga of Hix and TJ...blogging took a back burner for a few while I caught up with myself, which is why you see a few empty dates prior to this post. If I post an empty blog date, it means I plan to fill in blanks (key word: plan) You may want to scroll backwards from time to time as I'm no longer living in linear time/space at least when it comes to the blog.)

That said...
     Let the BEES begin...
My first honey! How pretty is this?
(It's honey-filled honey comb, so heavy it's falling into the broiler  pan beneath)

     To BEE clear, you don't harvest honey your first year out; beekeepers know this. I am learning. But BEEcause I wanted to know just how my honey was tasting, I asked Miss Margaret, my Master Beekeeper if I could sample the stuff...(Patience not being my long suit.)
   
Who can spot the problem with this picture?
Also titled: Why Blondes Should Not Do Bees!
For the record, I got stung. TWICE. First stings ever and they hurt like heck, but hey, at least I won't have arthritis in my hands. I was so excited I failed to suit up/glove up and I'm sure my energy was far from calming to bees, who, heretofore, have been BEE-having BEE-utifully. (Ok. I'll stop now; clearly the honey has taken hold).
     Because (oh so tempting) I wanted to know step-by-step how to gather honey the old fashion way, Miss Margaret walked me through it, pulling an entire comb (which was quite full) and bringing it inside. (You have to do this rather quickly, as the bees will follow you in if you're not careful. It's their honey, after all. They call it "robbing the hives" for a reason.)
     Safe and secure in the confines of my (not commercial) kitchen, Miss Margaret asks if I have cheese cloth. (I do not.) Might I have old panty hose? (Strangely, I do, though I wasn't sure but if they hadn't dry rotted, given nobody wears pantyhose anymore, and I've certainly had no need for them since farming, save for now, when we need 'em to mesh the honeycomb out.)
     Taking turns at the mesh (she was quite good at it; I was quite messy at it; and Pat meshed the best) I was elated to find we pressed an entire QUART! The comb, we next melted in a double boiler; (More on all these steps later.) The crystals in the main jar, having set overnight, have now risen to the top, where we will separate them out.
     I was likewise told what they look for when judging honey it at the fair. (Oddly, it's by color; I'm told it's not a taste-judging competition, which I find odd, but will CLEARLY do more research.)
     In short, it was a day to BEE-hold. (Sorry. It slipped in.)
     To those who tolerate me and my endless questioning mind, just know I am grateful. (Glad someone around here has patience.)

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Whatever Happened to Hix? (The Hix Update)

   
     Having spent hours doing research (both on Pyrs in particular, and anger issues in dogs in general) ...having had lengthy conversations with vets I respect and fellow Pyr owners who like me, have raised the breed, lived with the breed and know this breed inside and out, the prognoses for dealing in one starting to show aggression run vast and deep.
     I was, three days ago, actually looking to find another farm for Hix ... (something I have NEVER in my life done, and something I would likely need counseling for if I chose to do so now, so unimaginable is it to me to give away willingly, something I love this much), but fear being what it is and a dog this size being capable of things I do not know, the most important thing I knew to do is pray...And so I have...Long and hard.
     For now, my update is this:
     Hix's challenges are understandable. He outgrew the alpha in our lot and is confused as to why the biggest dog shouldn't win. It was never my intention to keep him in the same pen with another male forever (TJ) ...He was to have his own herd someday.  That is my intention still.
     For now, Hix is a HUGE dog who has his moments; he has been particularly aggressive when new goat babies arrive. In hindsight I get that... Hix spotted things I as a human did not spot; that danger (the buzzard) put him on high alert.
     But at the end of the day Hix is family. He's my boy. I did not plan to keep him from the beginning, but life (God/Universe...call it what you will) had a different plan, and Hix is here for a reason.
     So with that, I have decided...real love doesn't quit when the going gets tough. We don't toss him out because he spooked me a bit. TO the contrary, that's when I need to love him more.
     I recall once volunteering in a kindergarden class. I was reading Dr. Seuss to the kids, when a little  pudgy boy in the back, turned bratty. He was pulling a little girl's hair. He was making all sorts of commotion. Personally, I wanted to thump his head like my daddy would've done me. At the very least I thought he should be in time-out... But then, a most unusual thing happened.
     The teacher, who was in the back of the room, saddled up beside this child, pulling him gently in her lap and started to rock him. At first the kid resisted, but then, slowly, he put his head on her shoulder and his thumb in his mouth. He was quiet for the rest of the read.
     As I packed up to leave (the kids now coloring) the teacher stepped over to thank me and plan our next visit..and I HAD to ask her "What in the world inspired you to do THAT of all things?" Her reply? He's new to this class. His mom's a single mom going through a rough patch...She's moved him three times in the last year. He's yet to form bonds or friendships...He doesn't know anyone, and he trusts even less.  His acting out is his cry for attention. Sure, I could've stuck him in the hallway, but that is more of what he's already feeling. What he really needs is love.
     That lesson has stuck with me for years...Isn't that true for EVERY life situation?
     When it comes to Hix, I'm taking that lesson to heart....applying it to my own situation.
     Hix. You're a good boy. And just like the rest of us, you have your moments, (don't we all). But real love doesn't give up, furthermore we're not going to let the fear win. You are loved. And I know you love me. So we're in this together Hix. You're my buddy. You're my boy. You're family. And family doesn't give up on family. We just don't.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Feral Cats I'm Trying Not to Love

Meet Sammy, Gracie and Hissy Missy.
Amazingly, these three came from the same mama.
(That's feral for you.)
     Thinking some of you saw this one coming, but a little background in my own defense.
      So I have 3 new cats. Why 3 you ask? Because I have a friend who cannot count.
     Background on these kitties: I got a panicky email a few weeks back; subject line: "HELP!"
...content saying his girlfriend started feeding feral cats around his place and in one big bad week, two mamas had big litters of kittens. (This happens with feral cats; it's why you spay and neuter--provided you can catch 'em.)
      Given the timing in my own animal kingdom (i.e. haven taken out a black snake, discovering mice mama and mice babies in my garage, etc) I had been pondering a barn cat. (Note:  "a" means one...not 3, but who's counting?)
     First response after telling my friend I'd give it some thought, I reach out to other farmer friends who know lots more about the subject. (Obviously when it comes to cats, I'm only experienced in "spoiled" and "worthless" kinds of cats....not those that actually have to work for their keep). Like all things involving areas I know little about, I asked a lot of questions...did a lot of googling. Come to find out, most everyone who farms has feral cats if for no other reason than to keep the mice at bay. (Cause face it...If you've got feed, you've got mice.)

     So for starters, (to my friend who shall remain nameless) "feral" by definition looks like this:

fe·ral
ˈferəl,ˈfirəl/
adjective
  1. (especially of an animal) in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication.
    "a feral cat"
       
    The cute kitties above? Not so feral.  How do I know this?
    a) You named 'em. (I've changed a couple; but folks don't normally name feral cats. These are not household pets.)
    b)  They purr. (Feral cats hiss. They run from humans. Yours run TOWARD humans.)
    c)  You don't "free feed" feral cats. (Of all the things I was told repeatedly about barn cats is that you don't overfeed, after all the reason you have a barn cat in the first place is to kill the mice. It's a nature thing. (I know. I was concerned myself. That's why it took so long for me to decide if I could do it. But once I did (after seeing more mice) I knew I was in trouble when your girlfriend said she free feeds. Heck, I don't even free feed my dogs. So now we have 3 more things to feed each morning, but hey...aren't the kitties cute?)
         So to my friend who doesn't know the definition of feral, your babies are doing fine. Grateful to you for having them clipped and tipped (See earlier blog on why the ears of these cat babies are cat-e-wompas.) I find myself laughing at just how this whole thing got out of control, but I applaud you for having both mamas and babies neutered. (Anybody needing a not-so-feral barn cat, I think they have 2 left.)
         I rest my head knowing I did my part.

    *To my feral cat friends, your name choices needed altering. "Sammy" (far left) is the only name we kept, (obviously named because it looks Siamese.  "GW" (your middle cat) I felt too political a name to stick on an innocent kitten. By the time I learned it stood for gray/white it was too late. Given she is more sweet than feral, she is now known as Gracie. And that one on the right? She's no Princess. She actually has feral potential. We have hope for her. I've never seen a cat hiss and purr at the same time, but this cat does and thus I have renamed her Hissy Missy. Your babies are doing fine. Next time learn to count and buy a dictionary. (#loveyoududes #ucrackmeup)

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Critter Updates (aka The DoLittle Daily)

     It has been brought to my attention I have left certain stories hanging in the balance. It's not that I meant to. Life has been absolutely, positively on full tilt now that the summer is here, goats are popping babies, rabbits are running madly, birds are pecking on windows and dogs are trying to figure out their placement in the grand scheme of things...
    And because I am simultaneously juggling work matters (cookbooks, writing projects, business) ... farm matters (heat & harvests, tractor maintenance, not to mention physical exhaustion)...nature in all her glory (new goat babies, new bird babies...even new cat babies) have me remiss in replying to those of you who so gracious extended both encouraging words and prayers regarding several critters dramas whose stories are not complete...So for you, a brief update:

     URIEL (aka the red bird)
     Upon naming Uriel (the bird that pecks my windows and follows me throughout the house, appearing at various hours at various windows throughout the day), I began focusing my questions specifically: Who are you? Why are you here? What is your message?  In research too lengthy to convey, I was told in mystical terms that a red bird showing up unannounced is a conveyor of messages, portending changes ahead.  I choose to believe that's a good thing. As a girl who plants by the almanac, I am all about signs. The sign I was told to watch for had a tie to numerology, with 12 seemed the "cardinal"number. (It's a Native American totem; I'm sharing what I was told.)
     So on Day 12 of Uriel's arrival, I was extra watchful to see if something out of the ordinary might occur. (Fortunately, it was a Sunday, so I was in a silent place already.)
     The morning of the 12th I awoke as I had for the 12 prior to, to the sound of sweet Uriel pecking at my bedroom window. Settling in to converse, I began asking questions. The pecks and flutters came in a sort of morse code, messages for which would mean nothing to you, but brought comfort to me...
     But here's where the story will matter.
     After a lengthy exchange in meditative mode, I braced for the day, changing out of sleep clothes and into my day's attire to feed the rest of my flock...As I walked down the stairs, Uriel (with familiar chirps now keenly etched in my ears) moved from side window to front (he normally moves to back, as brekfusses are prepared). I opened my front door, following his chirps, only to find Uriel back at his original perch...The chirping bird before me was Uriel's mate! With one to the front of me, one to the right...it was a double blessing I felt, UNTIL, I heard, next a third voice, then a fourth, then a fifth...
     Turns out Uriel has an entire family! His wife, not nearly as colorful and more camouflaged so as to protect her babies, which are smaller versions of her; same colors; teen-age birds...It was a sight to behold and a symphony to my ears...

Next up: Naming of the Twins
(Drumroll Please)

     The list of names suggested by my FB friends were both colorful and creative...For all the stresses of buzzard attacks, dog attacks, lost baby and the like, I held off on cute twin names until certain both twins survived. But while awaiting that fate, the love, thoughts and comic relief brought more comfort than time will afford me right now. (After all, all you care about is WHAT DID WE NAME THE KIDS?)

   

The "Made Me LOL" prize goes to...

          "Bruce and Caitlin!"

(That said, even I wouldn't do that to my kids, but it WAS very clever, and I DID LOL!)


     The warm and fuzzy "Love it Very Much" prize goes to...

          "Piglet and Pooh!"

     (I resonate strongly with this one, but I think Pooh and Piglet are same sex...I've never been quite sure, but either way, in today's political climate, it posed too much a dilemma in the commentary department, which I had no time to sort out, which brings me to...)

     OUR WINNER (by a landslide in the popular vote, which is how our elections should be held Don't EVEN get me started on why we need to overhaul the electoral college) ...But the babies shall be called.... (drumrolllllllllll)

      JACK and JILL!!

      While a perfect pair of names for the perfect pair of twins, I must concede that Jack and Jill have longer names, for naming of my kids is very personal, their faces, their antics, their little life stories all playing into the process...

     So with that, and on behalf of two of my dearest friends, and two of THE most creative souls on the planet, both writers...one of music, one of books, I give to you:

     JACKson Brown (author of Life's Little Instruction Book and inspiration for my original "I Didn't Know That" creation --not to mention priceless friend) and
 
     JILL Colucci (hit song writer, singer extraordinaire, and inspiration for my first foray into song-writing on top of the rest) ...

     YOU, my friends...Jackson and Colucci ...now have namesakes.

     I trust you will take your honors to heart...and your god parenting skills seriously, for these goats have been a walking storyline from the day they were born. It is important to me that they aspire to such creative genius as yours as they embark on their little goat lives!

     To the rest of you, my precious FB family, my heartfelt thanks for all for the suggestions. I marvel at the endless creativity that inundates my life~

Next up:

What Ever Happened to Hix
and
Feral Cats (I'm Trying Not to Love)

(Stay Tuned)

Friday, July 17, 2015

Tough Decisions

   
     It has not been an easy week.
     For all the cute pictures, all the precious moments captured, I do my best to convey not only the happier moments of this life, but the gut-wrenching, heart-breaking moments as well.
     While our founding fathers wisely noted "pursuit of happiness" amongst our rights, it was not happiness they found inalienable, but the pursuit itself. Pursuance involves a myriad of emotions ...I dare say it involves every emotion in the spectrum, and for sure more than sheer happiness alone, as any entrepreneur will attest.
     I liken emotions to colors on an artist's pallet. We may resonate to the bright reds and the cheery yellows, but leave out the richness of the darker tones...those deeper shades of wines and ambers... and your picture lacks depth. When it comes to the portrait of my own life, I've come to accept that sadness is a part of it. Fear plays a role. Stress...angst...even depression...They are right up there with the bliss of a new arrival or the immense relief of a lost baby found. To pretend it's all cupcakes and roses would be a facade. And while I don't always post the stressful moments in pictures, I DO try to balance the blend here in written word lest someone think my life became easy street for simply having upped and moved my body to a farm. (It is far from easy and the street is long and winding...more like a perpetual curvy lane.)

     Today's saga involves my beloved Hix (a.k.a. "Hiccapup") ...A name deserving an explanation...

     I didn't plan to keep Hix. I didn't plan to keep ANY of Rosey's babies. Most were spoken for before they were born. Sadly, owing to the size and working nature of Pyrs, this breed doesn't live as long as smaller breeds as a rule. Life expectancy is said to be 10 - 12 years; most farmers will tell you if they make it to 8, you've done good. They are working dogs and the work is hard.
     That said, Rosey came from a long line of goat-guarding dogs (not that they don't all do this instinctively, but Rosey came from particularly good genes--generations old--and raised with goats specifically.). Plan was to allow her one litter, then spay (which we did).
   

     Because Rosey was SO maternal a mother, I decided to keep Rosebud, rather than have Rosey endure the shock and depression of all her babies suddenly gone. Meanwhile, I also had plans to add a second goat breed to the equation. (Still do.) But the learning curve, I did not allow for. Life itself slowed the game plan just a tad. Given I prefer raising Pyrs in pairs, I then decided to keep a pal for Rosebud to guard their own paddock someday. (His name was Brando; I already had him picked out. But Hix said "Not so fast blonde lady.")
TJ and Hix Meet for the Very First Time
     One by one folks as came for their pups (all but one pup went out in pairs; the solo pup now guards an animal rescue farm; Brando became "Polar" -- It's the Bruce/Caitlyn of Pyrs, but in name only. There was no sex change.) Reason I kept Hix and not Brando? Well, therein lies the history of his name.
     Hix would break into hiccups, almost as if having a panic attack with each selecting visitor. He did this also when eating, so much so that I was concerned to the point of pulling him aside and feeding him separately by hand. (Note the manipulation.) When down to the final 3 pups (Rosebud, Brando and Hix (not yet named because I didn't plan to keep him), the last person came and like clockwork, Hix commenced to hiccuping, so I offered up Brando for fear it might be a health matter I dared not hand off. (For the record, Hix has not hiccuped since, which only made me love him more. He had no intention of leaving. His little trick worked.)
Rosey's pups first night outside...
(I recall the evening vividly as we could hear a litter of coyote pups in the distance.)
     Like all Pyr pups, they grow at warp speed, enhanced by growth spurts that can last from 2 days to 10 days at a time (wherein they act as if starving no matter how much you feed them). With TJ the established alpha, our family was fine, UNTIL Hix outgrew him in size and stature, which today, poses a problem. For the past few weeks Hix has maintained his acceptance of the submissive role, all the while looking to me as if to say "Explain this again...WHY is he alpha when I am bigger?" More recently, he's not asking, so much as he's challenging.
     Meanwhile, Hix has developed a series of stunts which are annoyingly cute...Things like tipping bowls over, dumping the other dog's food on the ground when they go for water, or hiding bowls all over the place (sometimes empty, sometimes full). But between this week's events involving goat births and buzzards, Hix's antics have taken an angrier tone, so much so that my trust of him is wavering.
Hix sez "Take that Rosey."
(She won't eat it off the ground, but he will...once he's done with his.)
     A lot of googling and many lengthy phone calls later, I begin weighing my options:
     Yes, we can have Hix neutered. Reason I haven't already: 1) For this breed, it is recommended you do so only AFTER they have fully matured (18 months - 2 years). Keep in mind, Hix is STILL growing. 2) There is some research suggesting to neuter before they are in full hormonal balance can lead to cancer. Furthermore,  most farmers would never consider neutering a male Pyr as you want their testosterone in tact for the sake of fighting off predators. (Of course, most farmers I know don't have 4 in one lot.) 3) Hix is out of Rosey. Rosey comes from a long line of goat protectors. Someway/somehow I intend to keep her line going. Could be Rosebud. Could be Hix or TJ fathering. Yes, this is my family. But I am also in the goat business and Pyrs are a big part of this equation. I love them as my family, but they do have a job to do. What's more, I will not sell a goat to anyone who does not have a Pyr or some goat-protecting breed on site. Fences alone won't cut it. Coyotes and foxes can jump. Furthermore, neutering does not necessitate a solution once a dog shows aggression. The alpha role is still a factor. In short, Hix needs to be an alpha of his own domain....(which leads me to ....)
     2) Return to the original plan and commence with the second paddock. Allow Hix his own herd of goats. Pros: this keeps Hix on familiar turf allowing him his alpha role AND with Rosebud who he's already bonded to. Cons: Fencing takes time. New shelters, new waterers, new facilities take time. Learning curves take time.
     3) Find Hix a new home. This is a time-saving/money-saving solution provided an ideal scenario is found, but it is not without its challenges. Will Hix adjust to a new setting? Are there male dogs on the premises or nearby (as this could exacerbate his frustration)...?
     Like everything else, I do vast amounts of homework, (which is why I have not been blogging).  
     The good news is, a solution seems to have presented itself. (For the record, you never go Craigslist with this sort of thing. Serious goat and Pyr people will research to the hilt. How NOT to give a dog away is to go with an open plea. It makes me cringe. It is also why so many Pyrs wind up euthanized, missing, tortured or worse. No. You only want to deal with a tight-knit network of fellow Pyr people who know the breed, know whose farm needs what, know fellow farmers and their set ups, their philosophy, etc.) I respect deeply the dog adoption agencies that home inspect and background check individuals before allowing an adoption. Taking in a life is a responsibility like no other. While some may base the decision on emotion alone (walk into a pet store and let's just fall in love with something) is not a responsible way to go about this.There is more to it than that. And when it comes to a pup I have literally held from birth, this is no easy decision.
     In the end, it is not my happiness that comes first, but Hix's.
     (To be continued....for now, I pray, and welcome yours if you're the praying type.)
And perhaps my all-time favorite ...
Hix and his best bud, Charlie 
   
   

The Bluer My Day . . .

The Bluer my Porch? Call it ADD. Call it OCD. Call it "Karlen's preferred method come time to try catapulting herself out of a fu...