Quiet as a Church Mouse

   

     In case you can't tell (for the picture IS grainy) it's a mouse...in a cup...on my windowsill. (The cup, that is. And now the mouse that is in it. Both are on my windowsill.)
     I'm sitting quietly, watching TV, paying a few bills, when this mouse saunters in. (Note: he did not run, he did not scurry, he MOSIED if anything, first, under the back door and somehow UP my windowsill, where, looking around, he spies a cup. So he crawls in it. After all, the cup seems a nice stopping off point to a mouse in a house on a cold winter night.  "I'll stop here" thinks the mouse, clearly unaffected by my very large, very overweight cat, Boo, who is piled up in a goat bowl by the sink in the kitchen, nowhere in sight, not that it would've mattered.)
     There was a time when a mouse this size  (or any size) would've sent me leaping and screaming...looking for something high (which obviously makes no sense as clearly the mouse has mastered heights). There was even a time when Boo would've noticed, and at the very least, would've pretended to play with said mouse.
     There is even a season when mice don't rule, but only because I have a big, fat black snake living on my deck ...in charge of mice. (But that's in the summer.)
     I look at the mouse...think "Right. Winter. Lucky you. Boo's lazy and Joe Blacksnake hibernates when it's cold."
     And with that I return to my regularly scheduled program. For this is life in the country. (I am not thrilled to be sharing my space with a mouse. But it would've been far more stressful to see the little dude's feet glued to a sticky trap, so considering the alternatives, what cha gonna do?)
   
   

How Fragile We Are

     While normally my tastes lean country when it comes to music, I'm a believer in the power of 3s and this marks the third encounter with Sting for this day, so I pause to take note...
     His answers on Actors Studio were noteworthy as artistic inspiration goes...
     But the song stopped me in my tracks.
     Some days I marvel at what a blessing it is to be riding on the same blue ball with talent such as this...

   

Signs, Signs...Everywhere a Sign

   More on this later...
        save to say, this was the honest to God sign I came home to tonight...
 

Yes, the beer was gone and I got only a shell of a 12-pack package, and yes, that red eye filter does not work on dogs, but when you're looking for signs, hope springs eternal...

(It meant something to me folks... work with me here...work with me...)

      For those not following my FB posts, I am just home from a root canal...hence Rosey's efforts here tonight...and why I thought it sweet...Sadly she's yet to figure out I'm not a beer drinker, but she did the best she could...Would you break it to her at this at this point? I'm certainly not gonna...) 

Christmas Day Reflection

     For all that did not happen in cheery fashion this Christmas, I have decided this:
     Christmas is best celebrated on a Thursday. We do it with Thanksgiving. Why not Christmas?
     Something about having that Friday option, where if you have to work, you're going to have leftover snacks and get only your own work done for others having taken off. If you work for yourself, it's your option. And if you can get out of it, no one's expecting you there anyway. In short, it's a lost weekend--might as well declare it as such.  For me, I like the fact that it felt like Saturday all day, today and yet tomorrow, I get another Saturday.
     If the greatest gift of all is time, then I say every Christmas should fall on a Thursday. I was grateful for a day of doing nothing but catching up, cleaning up and bulking up on antibiotics for the fun that lies ahead Monday.

A Different Merry Christmas

   

     While Christmas eve found me fading fast with a 101 temp and the energy of a wet dish rag, I woke up Christmas day determined not to end the year in a total funk. (Amazing what 17 hours of sleep and a pain pill will get you.) Sad as the holidays had been, on the other side lay a root canal, so today was the day to make it happen if any.
     While not without its challenges (my mother's garage door got stuck, rendering her own car useless, while our other guest managed to sprain an ankle, altering what last minute plan we had cobbled together) we were blessed by a lone cab driver (actually he had his girlfriend with him, but he appeared to be the only one working this sunny Christmas day, which was just fine. It did the trick.). I managed the bird with all the trimmings...even managed to toss together a table sized tree and some lights...What little steam I had, I gave to the cause, creating our own little gathering for two to celebrate Christmas in minimalist fashion.

Remembering Teddy

   

     My thanks to Bill Fletcher for capturing the evening...Teddy Bart's 20th anniversary celebration for hosting "Teddy Bart's Round Table"...truly a Nashville icon.
     For those interested in the story of the man, here is his life...(It's lengthy, but for Nashville traditionalists, you'll appreciate the guests who helped make the evening...all 3 anchor teams, all living governors, a host of Nashville's business and political leaders and a whole lotta fans.)
     Truly a labor of love~ Thanks for the memories.

http://vimeo.com/user8694463/review/115271839/164923583b
   
From his Facebook post, Bill writes: 
       "On the occasion of his 20th year on the air, Karlen Evins produced this tremendous evening in honor of Teddy Bart. This is a camera we set up in the room to capture the speakers. It's long ... 90 minutes ... but for many people in Nashville this will be like a family reunion. 
     If you just want to hear from Teddy he starts at 1:03. If you want to see the film we produced about his life it runs from 47-1:03. We hope you will enjoy this and share it with others. We are respecting the fact that Teddy didn't want a memorial service but I have to believe he will get joy from knowing some of us are reliving this evening in his memory."

Godspeed Teddy Bart

     I have a soft spot in my heart for kids coming out of school, trained and eager to embrace the world without a clue as to what they want to do with their lives. I have a soft spot...because I was that kid.

     Having graduated from the University of Tennessee with a degree in advertising, I hit the ground running, so proud to have landed a job with an ad agency immediately after graduation. Dating all the way back to childhood, I knew I wanted to be in advertising. Something about solving the world's problems 30-seconds at a time appealed to me. More than that, I wanted to create.
     Sadly, I wasn't a match for agency life. What some found exciting I found stressful. With an ulcer and a diagnosis of Crohns, I headed home to the country thinking my life a pure failure, and to keep myself from spiraling into depression, I threw myself into a renovation project hoping somewhere along the way God would send a sign.
    While driving to Nashville to pick up materials, I tuned into a radio show that would forever change my life. It was a new show...only in its first week. It was called "Beyond Reason" --Its host and creator-- Teddy Bart.
    Teddy's was a household name. As a child I had watched my grandma swoon over his Noon show good looks and Eddie Fisher voice. As a grade schooler, The Waking Crew accompanied our morning school commutes. I was aware he did commentaries....vaguely recalled him as anchor. But the show I was hearing was different. It was about the unknown. Reincarnation...Life after Life. Questions we all seek answers for, but questions only Teddy Bart would be brave enough to ask. It truly was "...for those who dared to think."
     I heard he had a live audience, so I made my way to Vanderbilt Plaza and quietly took a seat in the back of Snaffles lounge. I remember it like it was yesterday. His guest was Ruth Montgomery...a respected White House correspondent who had covered every administration from Roosevelt to Johnson, but whose life and writing took a dramatic shift after she interviewed famed medium Author Ford (the man who broke the Houdini code).
     A self-proclaimed skeptic, Ruth agreed to attend a seance and cover the story for her newspaper following, but when a message came through from her deceased father who (as she writes)"gave [me] evidential information that Ford himself could not have known" her life was forever changed. She would go on to write more than a dozen books about the future of our planet and the world beyond, along the lines of Edgar Cayce or Nostradamus. (Only Ruth was in the here and now. And Teddy had her on the line.)
     Gripped by what she had to say (all very new for a Church of Christ girl raised in the South)  I raised my hand to ask a question and the rest as they say, is history. After the show I asked for a job. Given I had no background in radio and he had no openings, that went nowhere flat. The next week I returned and asked if I might intern. "If I could just read the books" I thought "I could stick post-it's on the pages, offer up different angles on questions..." (Little did I know they call this producing.)
     After 3 months of my free internship, Teddy's real producer got a call from a larger market, and I got a shot at her job. Six months later, while lining up an interview with a psychic made popular by Shirley MacLaine, an assistant confused our CST time zone for east coast time, meaning our guest was no longer available. (Some psychic, huh?) With minutes to go before the opening music Teddy turns to me and says, "Mic up kid. We've got an hour to fill."
     We talked about what happened and other behind the scenes stories. We shared our favorite guest moments and which topics intrigued us personally. We opened up the lines and let the listeners ask their questions. It was my foray into talk radio. To say I was mentored by the best would be an understatement. Teddy didn't mentor, he groomed. Little did I know at that time the life he was preparing me for.
     Within a year I was given an opportunity to audition for "Teddy Bart's Round Table" (then on WLAC). The next 20, would find us side by side on a host of creations ranging from mid-day call ins to Music Row lunch shows to weekend political recaps. As so many have already noted, there was no one better at the art of the question than Teddy Bart. There was no one who studied his craft, or worked to perfect his talent more rigorously than Teddy. He was a student of the best and a student of life.
      Teddy's love of the question was born of his insatiable curiosity for the unknown. Of all he created...of all that intrigued him, Beyond Reason was his platform for his one true passion...what lies beyond.
     Teddy believed the journey continues...
     Today Teddy knows.
     Teddy was my mentor, my business partner, my teacher...But more than these, he was my best friend. While profoundly sad for my own selfish loss, the bliss of his gain brings me hope and lends peace. And while I have no words for a moment such as this...if I did, goodbye would not be among them.
     May the angels protect you dear soul...
     May the journey be every bit the outpouring of love we've been told of and then some, for if anyone is deserving, it is you.
     My heart is heavy with sadness...yet full of gratitude for the life we shared.

     Godspeed Teddy Bart. I wish you peaceful travels, endless peace...and only love.
   


   
   

Sometimes there are no words...

This would be one of those times...

When writing of pain only makes for more pain...
                        well, perhaps it's time to put down the pen.

     Truly grateful/deeply moved by those of you who've reached out. (Sincerely, I am.)
      Thinking sometimes only crying will help...
(Or at least I pray it helps. Jury's still out.)

     Will save my solo little farm blog for another day...  (This is not to garner pity. It really, truly hurts this much right now...)

      Even if you didn't know Teddy, I know I have fellow sojourners who are likewise in pain this holiday season...

      I share your pain. I literally share in your pain.

From the Alter of my Heart

All the lights I need this holiday season...
From the alter of my hearth
From the alter of my heart....

Here's turning holidays into Holy days ~

From Minimized to Simplified

     The timing of my simplifying journey could not have worked out better. (Note: I'm shifting from minimizing to simplifying because what Josh and Ryan are doing is extreme and nothing akin to my own efforts, but they have served as great inspiration for getting me off the dime as I create my own version of the formula.)
     So far I've managed to give gifts of a most sentimental nature.  I've managed to bring in cash from old jewelry and a leather coat I never really wore and would not be wearing again. I've managed to pay down a credit card, not charge it up. (Who does this in December?) I've managed to clear one closet entirely and place my entire summer wardrobe in a laundry basket. I've managed to rid my basement, closets, corners, etc...of several "somethings" each and every day. But most important I've managed to dodge the Christmas craze that usually hits me about this time of year. (And while I'm not sure how this happened from clearing a few closets,  it has, and I don't think it coincidental.)
     If "stuff" is on the "effect" side of the cause and effect equation, with the causal agent being an inside thing (i.e. coming from your thoughts), I suppose it makes sense. You tamper with one side of the equation, the other side (by algebraic law) must be affected as well. All I know is it's become a very peaceful Christmas (something I wasn't sure was even possible given my past track record).
     Who knew that slowing your thoughts long enough to ask "Do I really need this item?" would bleed over to "Do I really need this hassle?" Who knew that while reflecting on material elements, what I was really doing was reflecting on the essence of those belongings...what they really stood for...Why was I resisting tossing those college term papers? That unworn leather jacket? That Tiffany ring? Through the lens of simplifying came a serious examination of my holidays as well, and so far (knock wood), it's working. Recognizing that those last minute "can we work it in?" get together requests will still happen, I allowed myself an open calendar and an open mind as to what I signed on for and made precious few commitments, while allowing me more spontaneous moments of "hey, why don't we drive around looking at lights?" If it works out, great. But if not, who says we have to do this before Christmas? Turns out the pressure is purely of our own making.
     But what really shifted was the "how do I want these events to go down?" Last year (most years) each day leading up to Christmas increased with intensity, panic and stress, racing from one group to another to another...praying I hadn't left something behind. This year, I asked myself "What did Ilove the most?" or "Which memories were most meaningful?" and every single one involved one on one time in soulful conversation with someone I love, so my present to me this year was just that...Seek out the soulful and let the rest go. When the texts, calls or emails came hurling, I was prepared this time with a simple, "When you have the time...before or after...I'd love to catch up. But this year, I'm foregoing the run-around-Sue...Please allow me to alleviate your obligations by one. I'll look forward to our time together after you've taken care of the rest.
     As for me, I want to be a "get to" not a "got to" ~
     And that...has made all the difference.

My Minimalist Journey ( Off the Beaten Path)

     So while Josh and Ryan (my virtual minimalist mentors) spent Day 3 moving everything they owned into one room and throwing sheets over the rest so as to allow themselves to start pulling things out one by one,  I'm thinking "Who does this?" (And am for sure asking "Who does this in a day?") They apparently have far more time on their hands than I,  not to mention friends with a far different take on what constitutes a party. And while that little diversion alone is enough to make anyone quit, I'm not quitting. I'm just tailoring...
     The good news is: I'm starting to feel it. ("It" being a shift in my consciousness from overwhelm towards relief.  "It" also being the Christmas spirit...only the real spirit...Not the store bought kind.)
     Funny how digging for solutions in one area of your life can bring about solutions in another.  Somewhere between cleaning out old jewelry boxes and and boxing up unused stemware, my mind wandered over to "What else can we clear? This feels good." and with that, new answers began to appear.
     For starters, I now want to declutter other areas of my life: my laptop, my bills, my schedule...even my holidays. Where normally this time of year finds me racing from place to place, wondering if I have the right tags on the right gifts and paranoid I may've left something behind in my mad dash to the next event, this year I'm holding my horses (or my goats as the case may be). You may race through your holidays if you like...Me? I think I'll stroll.
     In the same way I might swap a too large sweater for one more my size,  I've decided to swap larger group gatherings for smaller, more intimate one-on-one visits with those friends I've been wanting to catch up with all year.  "Thank you for your gracious invitation...but when the dust settles, would you like to take a drive?" has served me well, and you know what? Not only has no one minded...they've actually preferred it. Meaningful conversations have replaced yelling above crowds  in festive, albeit less engaging exchanges. It's the presence, not the presents, I'd been hoping for.
     This is not to diss large gatherings. If a room full of people is where your heart leads you this season, by all means, embrace it fully. As for me, my heart requested "Quieter please...More meaning please...Less clutter please." And so I embrace this for me.
     As it says in Ecclesiastes, "To everything there is a time and a season..."
     For me this season, it's time to try a new tact. The good news is, it's working.
     
   
   

Minimalizing: Day 3 (Ain't No Way!)

Dear Josh and Ryan,

You're kidding right? Your suggestion for Day 3 is so non-realistic you're gonna lose your audience entirely. I'll grant you in theory, it's a novel exercise, but let's be real...Even if I DID want to try it, no one could do it in a day. Nice suggestion, but I can hardly box up my entire house and put it in a spare room and pull out only what I need one day at a time~ You've just gone from practical (with me trying trying) to absurd (why bother).

I will continue to check your blog for daily suggestions, but as for me, (as for any person with a life) what you have us doing on Day 3 could take 3 months. (And no, my friends would not consider that a party.)

Think I'll take it from here~

Sincerely,
Mini Me in Theory

Ok, so today we had to part company. The instructions per my unknown minimalist mentors may be how it's done when you're committing to moving into a tiny house, I was committing to changing a habit (just to be clear). Tis not my goal to have only one toothbrush, one hairbrush and one set of clothes. I want more meaning, less maintaining. So to that end, I am altering the game plan, having decided that for the next 21 days, something will leave this house, period! Today (given it's the holiday season) I did a little home shopping, (and I don't mean QVC)!

With three people in my life setting up first time housekeeping, I started with them in mind. Some need stemware; some had asked for serving pieces. (I have more of this stuff than I'll ever use and am happy for the space it frees up. If you walked into my house today you would not spot one difference, but I can FEEL the difference for having intentionally done it, so it's working for me, so even if you can't see it...well, you aren't the goal, I am. :)

Having packed my Jeep with the first of many deliveries, I took the time for small notes as to how I'd come about each item ...what was meaningful to me...where I was, how I felt when I first encountered it. I reached out to a cousin to ask if she'd like my Mema's china. I called a friend asking what she needed for upcoming parties. It was like shopping at Macy's, only I didn't have to fight for parking.

Biggest challenge was that first fight of the emotional tug to keep familiar things near. Once you get past that, this really does get easier, and before you know it, you're physically FEELING the difference between the newly opened space vs. those corners stacked with clutter.

Minimizing - Day 2

Dear Josh and Ryan, 

No offense, but you said we’d be doing by now. It’s now Day Two, and your rules say “Planning" ~  To me, planning means writing things down, (as in, on a list). I did my list yesterday. Already I’m confused. On your Day 2  you bought a calendar. And you wrote down step by step what you’d be doing for the next 19 days.

Well I don’t know what I’m doing. And since you didn't spell it out,  I’m going to have to improvise. For now I'm going to make sure things leave this house today and doesn't come back. I personally think your Day Two blog lacks direction, but I’m still committed.  Maybe Day 3 will be better. For today, I shall do something toward the goal, but next time, plese offer suggestions. 

Signed, 
Mini Me 

Since Day 2 of my minimizing journey lacks a North star, I improvised. I did not buy a calendar, (though I love buying calendars; I am this side of needing a sponsor when entering an Office Max, but I'm trying to limit my temptation purchasing this season). But being ever committed, I made (another) list --this one being "other places to offload stuff" ... (preferably for money). Today’s simplifying step: Selling old gold and jewelry.

 Since part of the whole minimizing thing is to get out from under all burdens (including debt), this step, likewise, affords a bit of umph toward the snowball effect as there’s nothing like a little cash to motivate you to do more closet clearing. Between those Gold-for-Cash ads and those street guys and their flippy signs, I was curious, but a little hesitant. (Turns out you could investigate these things for days on end, and you should; they’re each run quite differently. Ditto that on consignment shops. (All I can say is read the fine print!) Today I wound up ridding a junky jewelry drawer of broken necklaces and decades old memories and I have to say, it was invigorating.

 Emotional Me kept thinking "but ...aww...that reminds me of (past, past, past)" ...but Intellectual Me said "Keep clearing Evins... make room for things to come!"

Speaking of which, we now have a barn! After 4 long months we are finally finished (and not a second too soon)! The goat babies love it and it warms my heart to think that this Christmas that they too, like some little pygmy nativity scene, will gather round their own personal manger and fall asleep on the hay.

Minimalist Living--Day One! (All is...sorta well)

     Ok. So I broke the rules already. But in a good way ~
     I made my "Must do" list (as opposed to my "shoulda/woulda/coulda done") list...
     This I did by the book. (See yesterday's blog.)

     But I was supposed to stop there. This was not a day of DO-ing. Today was all about BE-ing...
(i.e. making my list....mapping my plan.)
      So I got a little excited. I jumped the gun. (But at least I did not read ahead. No. No. No. I'm taking this program one step at a time...All 21 days of it. I'm changing a habit!)
      Because 'tis the season, and because having blogged on my lack of Christmas cheer, my friends are concerned I've gone all Scroogey on them. (Note: I don't feel Scroogey; I feel Christmas came too soon and I feel fake to pretend otherwise. What's more I feel weighted down, so putting up a tree didn't make the list. I supposed before these 21 days are through they'll have me dump the tree entirely along with the ga-zillion storage bins of holiday decor in my basement, but fortunately today was not that day. After all, we're only on day one.)
       But what I did decide to do (ingeniously tying "game plan" AND "holiday cheer" together) ...I went to my closet and pulled those things that were a little too new or a little too nice for Goodwill. (This would include everything from my full length leather coat to sweaters with tags still on them...to that Coach bag that was never really me.)  Having done one Goodwill run, (and there will be others) I decided my next pass was a Christmas pass with friends in mind. (And not a moment too soon!)
       Having girlfriends and nieces my size helps. Having friends used to my quirky ways helps even more. This Christmas, they've been duly warned ~ Regifting is not only fair game, it's the only game. And odds are good it's been worn~  But because I'm all about the meaning (which is also to blame for why I can't part with things) my memories are in the very fibre of the item, making it physically painful for me to part with it, despite the fact that I haven't worn it in a coon's age. Now that I live where coons roam, my wardrobe is pretty much boots and a romper, so the pretty things seldom come out of the closet...save for today~ as I popped 'em in a bag with a hand written note saying why this made me think of you, Virginia!
      These items include: a) something I bought while traveling with you, visiting with you, shopping with you; b) something you've long admired that would perfectly fit you; c) something that just looked like you, so here --Try it on... Better yet, keep it!
      It's my first step in detachment. (I have to break these things down. Might take me 42 days, but I'm committed.) So I broke the rules a little bit. Day One I wasn't supposed to do anything but make a list, but since I make lists in my sleep, that part got that done in a flash. I needed to DO something if this is to sink in. This was my human doing act. And a holiday one at that. So THERE, Josh and Ryan! I'm tailoring your plan. I probably should not have started this journey smack dab in the middle of Christmas; then again, it might be just what I need.
      My friends have been warned; I will not be mall shopping; I'm shopping from home (literally). Some gifts may be used; then again, maybe not. I've had a gift closet for years, full of things from all over the world. Just the thought of a friend or a niece or my mom can trigger me to purchase on impact. I've always shopped in advance, primarily because I think of those I love all the time and if I spot something goofy that reminds me of them, I buy it on the spot. In this one area I've actually been quite organized, keeping notebook and gift bags on hand at all times. If I get hit by a bus, y'all head to the basement cause I've got your next five years covered. This year, I've simply added ALL my closets (and pantries and cupboards) to the proverbial mix. (Feel free to call me crazy. I prefer "Minimalist Me".)

Cupid, master of the minimalist concept!

      Toward that end, I can tell even now, I'll need more than 21 days. (I have too much stuff.) But if the shift in consciousness even after day one, is any indication, buckle up. If this is how that Dave Ramsey snowball feels, well, I'm on a mini roll! Miles to go before I sleep, but I'm committed to the journey.

Minimalist Living: Can She Do It?

     In my never-ending quest to locate the pea beneath the mattress of my holiday funk, I am doing some serious soul searching as to where that dang pea came from in the first place, and where one turns for relief (of a healthy nature) toward its extraction.
     As to the relief part, the following has worked temporarily: There are prayers. There are friends. There are dogs to hug and goats that make me laugh (and babies on the way--double plus there!) There are creations I long to create and writing I can't get enough of...There are meaningful moments and people I love. There's music. And then there is the internet.
     The internet gets a category all its own, as it can also be part of the problem, but like money or TV or anything else we exchange for temporary relief, it can be used for evil or good. (The internet itself doesn't care. It's what we do with it that matters.)
     Today, the internet is my starting point, why? Because today I have chosen to use it as my roadmap to relief.
     In addition to the obvious benefits the internet brings me (the therapy of blogging, the thumb's up from friends, the smiles from responses to silly goat pictures), today I put it to a more serious use -- that being an all out search for answers as to how one even begins to slow the overwhelm train down.
     I hear from those who've been here, that "stuff" has a whole lot to do with it (and by stuff, I mean "clutter"...If my pea had a name, I'd name her "clutter.") While physical clutter is the obvious part, it's the mental clutter that launched the ship, for everything in the manifest world begins with a thought (misguided or mistaken as that thought may be). THAT was the aha I was looking for.
     I'm intrigued by those who've adapted a minimalist lifestyle, as every story I've read reveals they were once where I am and said "Enough is enough." Only difference in them and me is THEY knew where to start. I did not...until today.
     While boxes to Goodwill and cashing in old jewelry are nice steps, steps without a plan lead to nowhere. So what did these people do to make it stick? Their newfound, simpler lives speak to the very peace I want...So teach me folks. Walk me through your program. I need a sponsor and a support group. Put me in coach!
      There are many blogs out there devoted to this; I decided simply to pick one and follow. Biggest challenge I face is I'm too dang sentimental about EVERYTHING, meaning while I know intellectually I don't need it, use it, even want it...emotionally, come time to part with it, it's an entirely different ballgame. I've jump started this mission a dozen ways to Sunday and wind up "stuck" at the exact same point every single time. So this time as a matter of accountability I am committing publicly to doing something different. I may not make it to the end. But the second I punch send, you, dear reader, will know I made a decision.
       Thanks to a website called "The Minimalists" (I do not know these people; this was pure google search, but I resonated with their writing) I found a 21-day plan of action that I may or may not be able to keep, but show me a formula broken down into increments, and I'm good to try. On the one hand, I'm not sure I can part with certain things; on the other, I'm open for the lessons that will surface if I can't. Twenty of the 21 days involve physical action steps toward the goal. The first day (today) is about one thing and one thing only: making a decision.
     According to my new mentors (Josh & Ryan) their Day 1 involved making a list of the things they knew they should be doing but weren't ...."I should clean out that closet...I should ditch things I don't use, wear, need...I should watch less television...I should get healthier about my eating habits...I should, I should, I should..." (Been there; done that; got that T-shirt that I should add to my Goodwill box!)
      Once we're done shoulding all over ourselves, you take the list and change should to must. "I must clean out that closet...I must ditch things I don't use, wear, need...I must watch less television, etc."
     From this point on (and I didn't read ahead--I pray I don't live to regret this) the next 20 days are a hold-my-hand tutorial on how to actually do it while instilling a new habitual thought pattern. Today is the only day I am not to do, but to be still and know... thoroughly...in my gut...that I want to change. To do this, I must go turn emotional decisions into intellectual ones, so as reinforcement on the latter, I commit to doing it here for folks to read.
     For those interested in this sort of thing, here's the website: http://www.theminimalists.com Clearly these dudes are the pros; they've even done a TED talk. I'll be the first to admit this scares the daylights out of me. But I'll also confess that having written it here, punching the word "post" makes me far less tempted to back out. I welcome your support. I welcome your prayers. And if it doesn't work out, may I've at least provided you some entertainment this holiday season.
   
   
   
   

On Being Chipper (Spoiler Alert: I think it's overrated.)

    "Are you sure you're ok? You don't sound like your chipper self..."
     The man gets paid for astute observations. Body language ... candidates...How folks respond to reporters....He's a trained professional and gets big bucks 'cause he's good at it. But more than his professional assessment, this guy is my friend. So his call went down as one of the sweeter gifts of my day and this season overall.
     "Ya know what...?" (I began) "I'm rethinking chipper....I think chipper may've contributed to the problem. I've been chipper so long people no one knows me for anything else. You do know I have many more facets...? Why is everybody stuck on this one?" 
      To be honest, I'm tired. And I'm sensing that others are too. My chipper account is not fully funded. What reserves I have are needed elsewhere.
      It was a good conversation, as ours always are; reason being, those who are real in our lives bring out the real in us too. And this is ok. More than ok. Actually, this is best.
      In the 3 minutes we had to cross check our schedules, I was not about to burn up our time recounting Thanksgiving funerals or the last call I'd just hung up from ~ Not the time. But yes. You hit me in a pocket. These and other emotions are surfacing. That I held them in for so long out of trying to being chipper for everyone else, I'm discovering, was not healthy...not for you, not for me, not for any of us.
      And while I'm perfectly capable of sad moments all my own, I am becoming more sensitive to the expectations of others this season, some of which are valid...most of which I could avoid entirely if I got gut level honest.  For those who require only a chipper me...I might need a pass this year. (Then again, maybe not. We'll just have to wait and see. We decide on a day by day, one by one basis anymore.)
     In the case of this friend, he's seen my ups and downs as I've seen his and in reflecting, it was somber, not chipper, that fertilized our relationship's growth. Somber forces us to dig beneath the surface. Somber begs you grow.
     With chipper? Not so much. Granted, chipper's a lot more fun at a holiday party, but chipper's not the ingredient for depth. (And hey...it's perfectly ok if deep is not your goal. I'm not here to judge or weigh anything but my own life's choices and experiences. I'm just sayin' ...)
     No one denies chipper is fun. I like it myself. Like my brightest pink sweater, it just makes me feel festive. But my real friends accept my whole closet. There's the bling worn for parties and my farm jumper I keep right beside the door. The ones who know me best have seen me in both and recognize the common denominator as me.

     I have another friend...one who (although not a professional poet) sends poetry by text...usually late at night...once or twice a year...with undertones so dark, I call immediately, no matter the hour, to make sure she's just venting and not about to pull a Robin Williams.
     By morning this friend is back to chipper! Only happy things here! Bright and chipper are we! :) So convincing is she that nothing from the night before would ever be believed, (much less mentioned)... Until the next time.

     So who knows her best I ask you? Facebook friends or text recipient? If anyone is there for her pain, it's me and she knows it, for her pain is very real to me, so real that veiled threats draped in poetry, are texts I take very seriously.

     For those who need only chipper me... we have cute goats and dog hugs, and blogs of life's sweet ironies and we have 'em in spades. My pics and posts shall continue~ The world needs these moments. (I need these moments.) But the reason these moments resonate so deeply with a precious few, is because these moments, like deep friendships, are connected far beneath the surface...They hit us at our core. I want more of these. And if that means giving up a little chipper, I think it a fair exchange.
 
     Whoever decided Chipper = Good ...All else = Bad... I disagree.

     For while not in the traditional Christmas spirit (as our mall-hopping culture defines it) this Christmas is delivering Spirit in boatloads. So far, it has been (and I intend it shall continue to be) my most meaningful Christmas to date...As in Ever. In my life.
     Don't be fooled by that chipper thing.... What I lack in showing up chipper this year, I'm re-investing and redirecting. I've extended this year's party invite to the other "me's", and if that winds up being a party of one, or two or me hugging 16 goats, well so be it.
     I gently invite you to gift yourself the same. In the words of that "Mama Mia, Speecy, Spicey Meatball commercial, "Try it. You might like it."

The Overwhelm is Deafening

     Like so many I can lose hours clicking about to happy faces and updates of friends across the miles and across time per the magic of Facebook. It's a little mini high to be able to reach out to someone you haven't seen since you were 10 to catch a glimpse of where life finds them today and to offer a friendly hello.
     And while pictures are worth a thousand words, there are things that pictures can't convey, (or won't for having never been posted) that speak to other parts of life--very real parts of life, that by default are less than welcome by way of acknowledgment. For who posts a picture of their internal battles, of fears gone unspoken, of dreams unfulfilled? I suspect it's one reason we respond as we do to the passing of a pet...I contend it triggers in us a momentary empathy pass... like some universal pressure value it allows all one brief moment of collective sadness, before we resume our picture perfect patterns of posts.
     But by limiting our sadnesses, are we throwing our psyches out of whack? In those quieter moments...in our silent times, are we as happy as our postings might indicate?
     I once had a business partner who called them "2 am WOWS" --those mid-delta-sleep moments when panic shoots through you like a bolt of lightening, abruptly waking you with thoughts of "Did you remember to..?" or "How are you EVER gonna ...?" Those annoying, judgmental, all-too-familiar thoughts that leave us exhausted on top of the exhaustion that brought us to bed in the first place....Those thoughts we race to replace with something--anything-- that allows to to return to a more peaceful state of mind.
     As much as I adore the musings...the pictures, the posts....it's those I encounter on FB at 2 am whose timing (not pictures) speak a greater truth, for I suspect they are doing exactly what I'm doing, which is to say working to distract my mind from the worries it habitually defaults to.
     For while the party went great, and the family photos are perfect...Where's the rest of us? And are we inadvertently mind altering to a point of dysfunction when it comes to the reality that pain and sadnesses exist, they just aren't the preferred guests of choice, so let's deny they ever happen and get back to happier times.
     In my effort to dig a layer deeper to find just how I arrived at my own states of overwhelm (that seem to come up more often at holiday time), it occurs to me that Rome wasn't built in a day, nor did my stress arrive out of nowhere. Instead, I suspect a series of backed up, snuffed out, smoothed over issues lay in wait, ever poised to erupt like some Hawaiian volcano with one shifting seismic plate. Perhaps the surface was meant to be broken all along, so as to allow out the steam of all those feelings not acceptable for proper social settings...Energies that, despite your best efforts, WILL eventually surface, and when they do, what 'cha gonna post then?
     My wish...my hope...my dream is that we one day acknowledge our sadder times, our fearful times, our human times with the same greeting and embrace we address our happier ones. For I personally think it's affecting our balance as a planet eager to share a moment, but only the ones we feel you want to see or will approve of, and not the ones we're feeling when you aren't invited to look.

A Crayon in the Hand of God

     I love the prayer of St. Francis...
         "Lord, Make me an instrument of thy peace..."
     For the musically gifted, this metaphor makes perfect sense. Each individual is but one instrument in this grand orchestra of life. The breath breathed through us to make the music...that's a God thing. (For we sure as heck didn't invent it.)
     As a creative, I prefer a different analogy. I like to think of myself as a crayon in the hand of God--preferably a cheery colored crayon--something that adds color... there to brighten the scenes I am blessed to take part in.
     But here of late, I've come to appreciate that the darker hues are what an artist picks when craving more depth. There's nothing wrong with them. We're just living in a time where chipper bright reds and blues are the attention grabbers, after all, there's nothing fun about black (unless you're a little dress)...But those darker hues, God made those too...and for a reason. You never see a Crayola 64 pack with only primary colors. Nope. Just like the orchestra with all its variety,  it takes a village of shapes, sounds and colors to make symphony or a masterpiece come together.
     Whether piccolo or Crayola,  flute or brush, we are but instruments...the life and breath of the larger creation is not ours to decide. Only when Spirit takes hold, sweeping through these instruments, will the creation be felt. Best we can do to facilitate is to keep our own instruments free of debris and in tune...Keep our inner crayon sharpened...For it is not ours to decide when the conductor will tap his wand or when the world might be due another masterpiece.

Equal Time: Boo Moments

     Because we know how much cats love it when you do this, (Boo's expression is priceless)...But given all the face time Rosey's been consuming here of late, Boo was due a moment. What time I'm not writing, feeding, brushing or picking up the remains of something the dogs dragged in (literally), moments like these consume a good portion of my day. (Great for transitioning from one task to another...It's the little things that get us through.)

On Peter Pan

   

    We're 2 for 2 on televising Broadway musicals filled with brightly colored backdrops, pitch perfect singers and fun to watch dance routines (all of which get ruthlessly panned by reviewers the next day...What's up with that?)  I'm no reviewer and personally think no one should be a critic unless they've actually produced something themselves, but last night's performance of Peter Pan did offer plenty of food for thought.
     My first thought was: Wonder what's going on in our cultural psyche that's making these productions all the rage these days, after all, we're nation of On Demand/ Netflix/ "I'll watch it on MY own time" junkies when it comes to our TV viewing habits. But that we're all tuning in at once (at least to check it out)  kinda comforts me. Hooray! There still are some things that will bring us together that don't involve wars or riots. No doubt, "Live" is better (as Broadway fans and concert goers know). But that we're watching live through the mechanics of a TV lens (meaning camera crews are dancing backwards with techies shuffling cables, wires and boom mics while performers try to stay focused on their dance moves, well, it makes for a lot of potential trip ups. Maybe I'm giving us too much credit. Could be like Nascar--folks just want to see a wreck....hard to say.)
     But as it pertained to the production last night I myself was tripping over one element and one element alone: Why must Peter Pan always be a girl? While I thought Allison Williams adorable, I kept getting distracted, 1) because she looks so much like her dad in the face and 2) she's a girl, and a grown one at that! Even with the pixie cut, I had to keep reminding myself-- This is a girl, playing a boy, who's admired by a girl who has real boys all around her who can sing and dance...Why wouldn't they just pick one of those? Aren't the sexual undertones of Peter Pan confusing enough without adding one more?)

     In the original stage production (London, 1904) they chose a girl because girls were easier to hoist for the flying scenes. By the time it hit America, Mary Martin (a darling of Rodgers and Hammerstein) won a Tony for the role, so women it was! (e.g., Sandy Duncan, Cathy Rigsby, etc). But I was curious if the creator (J. M. Barrie) ever wanted Peter Pan played this way. (Turns out, no. Peter Pan was inspired by his brother who died in an accident before his 14th birthday; as he never aged in his mother's eyes, this is where Barrie came up with the idea. It's said Barrie always wanted a male in the lead, but that only happened once, and that was after Barrie had died.)
     In the original (Peter Pan & Wendy) we're told Peter "still had his first teeth" meaning he was probably more like 6 or 7 in the writer's mind. (I suppose staging a 6 year old would be even more disturbing to the relational element, but still, I would personally just once like to see it. I just kept thinking "Wouldn't that kid from Pay It Forward have been so perfect?" though I'm sure he's about 30 by now.)
     I recall seeing the stage production in London many moons ago and coming home to re-read the book entirely, as that version highlighted the Wendy/Tinkerbell conflict to the point of Freudian psychosis. (Wendy representing the oedipal complex on steroids; Tinkerbell being the catalyst for the Peter Pan Syndrome (e.g., men who never grow up, choosing perpetual childlike pleasures over responsible adult behavior despite the fact that they're grown). It was a fascinating play, but I felt bad for folks who'd brought their kids.

Tis the Season...(Not)

     At the risk of sounding Scroogish, or infecting anyone with full on holiday cheer, may I just say...I'm just not feeling it. It's odd, as I'm normally a nut about this holiday, but for some reason the vibe's just not clicking and while I could fake it (and certainly don't begrudge those who are feeling it) I'd rather stop and reflect, for I suspect of all the gifts I'm to get this season, this one may be my greatest gift of all.
     I've got theories. (You're talking to a girl who looks for meaning in dead deer carcasses...would not be me if I didn't think things to smithereens.) So here are a few... A list of The Many Possible Reasons Karlen's Not Into Christmas This Year:
     1) I've been to one too many funerals lately. While yes, these things lend perspective, I'm finding more sadness yet as I think on others' Christmases. For those facing firsts without husbands, sons, fathers, mothers....I am so very sad for your pain. Maybe my empathizer button got stuck...Hard to say, but what energy I'd normally be giving to Christmas cards and RSVPs, I've wanted to direct elsewhere... Visions of sugar plums don't dance in my head so much as visions of how I might be there for those dreading the holidays this year for entirely different reasons....
     2) Keenly aware of my own time and energy these days, I reflect on how easy it is to let these precious gifts go mindlessly, thoughtlessly out the window like some slow leak in an air balloon...Given the choice of catching up with an old friend or sticking to the "to do" list for the day, I find myself asking: Which one lifts? Which one drains? Which gives me energy? Which leaves me depleted? In the end, it's a no brainer. (Why I did not do this before, I shall never know.)
     3) I have far too much "stuff" already. Seriously. I cannot think of one more thing I could possible use (save for a box to put it all in, or a U-haul truck or a torch)~  I'm working to clear out clutter, not add to. The thought of bringing one more useless item into my house has me rethinking this custom entirely.  Matter of fact, why don't you shop from my basement, my shelves, my cabinets this year...? Can't wrap it for you, but I can tell you the story of why I kept it this long.
     4) Malls (to me) equal misery. Caught a glimpse of an ad yesterday and thought "Are you guys  trying to run us off?" Granted, I've never been a fan of malls, but add holidays?  No thank you. Nothing about malls suggest Peace on Earth in my book. I don't even want to drive near one. Since I know this valuable tidbit of info, why haven't I been using it? (Maybe I'm getting wiser with age, or maybe I'm just a slow learner.)
    And less you think I'm depressed, well, I've thought of that too. But I don't think that's it. For those who believe in the scripture: Ask and it shall be given, (and I am one) well this is my given--I asked for more meaning, more mindfulness in my day to day, but in so doing I failed to factor that this meant all that is mindless would be highlighted too.
    Given time once spent, is a gift gone for good, my meaningful request put my time-gift to the test. I've been on the lookout ever since for my greatest returns~
     So in thinking of holiday spending, (be it money, be it time, be it love)...like some Dave Ramsey devotee, I started mapping an intentional plan; I enter this season with an envelope of time units; I am determined to spend more wisely this year...(my money being the very least of it)
     For those who love me as I am...you won't spot a big difference. Time with you...THAT's top of my list. What's healthier, I ask? To continue handing time over just because it's expected? Just because we called it tradition? Give me that meaningful phone call or a chance to walk Radnor with a friend I've been too busy to take time for, over the guest soaps stacking up in my gift closet from people who barely know me and would probably prefer to be with their special people...I  think it's time for a reassessment of how we'd each rather spend such a sacred holiday.
     When it really got right down to it, it occurred to me I'd come home from too many gatherings asking, "What just happened? Why was I there? Did I love really going or did I fear they would talk about me if I didn't?"(Forgetting I am happiest when home in my fuzzy slippers...lighting candles and hugging goats.) This time, why don't I make this easier on all of us?
     Of all the things I cherish most, it's the people who know and love the real me...No guilt trips. No false expectations. Funny how meaningful people are all cool when you say, "Thank you for caring, but having given this more than a passing thought, I think I'll lie low this year. The best gift you could give me is your blessing and a prayer."
       I don't ask others join me in this,  nor do I begrudge anyone your larger than life event if that's what makes you happy. As for me, I'm just a girl trying to simplify...Getting real with others demands I first get real with myself, and for all our sakes, this is my gift of this season.
      No matter what's in that box, think I'll be my own present this year... being fully present whether alone, or with goats or with a treasured friend...that's my this year.  I'm craving more quiet these days. If it's all the same to you, what say we both avoid the malls, the generic gifts w/no meaning...These things just serve to remind I cost you your units too.
    What is wrong with sitting one out? Isn't that what we do when we've danced too fast or been tackled too hard? I don't need another bottle of lotion...another "gift set" bought in haste. It's finally dawning on me, (and not a moment too soon)  it really is the thought that counts, and I can feel when thought goes into a gift; but I can also feel no thought at all. (I suspect we all can). In the end, that no thought at all stuff starts to weigh you down. I for one, am out to ditch it.
     This year, I tender my resignation from those gatherings that do not uplift...do not feel real...Call it my own Tender Tennessee Christmas...
     With no hard feelings...(too the contrary...nothing but feeling ...)
     I seek only meaning in my holidays this year. (There. I'm setting an intention. Here's to my intentional holiday season.)

   

Rosey Deer-est: Animal Instincts & Human Behavior

   

     Oh the joys these critters bring...outdone only by the lessons they teach. As the picture suggests, my morning was a shocker. Nothing like a bunch of deer remains to start your day! 

     As if the nastiness weren't enough, the bigger problem came in trying to discard things, as Rosey, like any dog, reverts to wild beast when it comes to a bone or raw meat.

     You know the sound...That guttural, wolfy, Cujo impersonation...that growl that says "Even though your my person and I am your dog, in this moment I am a wild beast and I WILL bite without even meaning to if you so much as LEAN in my direction!" The "Don't even think it," kinda growl. 

     So I leave Rosey to her paw-lickin' smorgasbord and do my best not to make any false moves despite the fact that she is smack dab in the path of my feeding routine.

     By late afternoon she's back to her old self. Having hidden the carcass, she's ready to play, but now's not the time. I have to leave, and as much as I didn't want her out, she was not going in as she is now feeling her oats for all the extra Vitamin "Deer" in her veins. (Not to mention this IS one of the most stubborn breeds of dogs on a good day.  Life with Rosey is one big karmic lesson in patience, forgiveness and unconditional love as the day will attest.)

     I come home hours later, "dog tired" but oh so relieved to see my Rosey Posey leap from her perch atop the deck. Bolting to see me, she comes racing to the Jeep, wagging feverishly...more so that usual it seems...Plus she's got a strange look in her eyes and I'm thinking "Dear Lord please...not another carcass!"

     I walk around the Jeep to pull Minks from her co-pilot perch as is our habit, and although Rosey knows the routine, she is frantic to mark Minks' territory...She circles once...circles twice...and then races to get between me and the steps, nearly knocking me over before heading back out to recheck Minks.  Setting offloads aside, I watch Rosey as she goes back to the Jeep, back to Minks, back up toward me and back again, retracing every single step each of us have taken...stopping to pee about every 3 feet. Circling the two of us twice, then once more for good measure, I swear the dog is thinking, "I may've attracted some enemies; tonight we might need extra. This will only take a minute."

     Sitting down on the steps I call her to me; and she walks straight over and places her big ol head on one shoulder and left paw on the other, and just sits there. And then it hits me...She's protecting us, yes, but the expression I'm sensing is RELIEF. This dog thought I wasn't coming back. We missed our morning rituals; we missed our "us" time, and before I left we had not reconnected. With no time to play and frustration for her non-cooperation, my departure confused her. I came home to a worried Rosey, sitting in the dark, wondering if she'd let her family down, but what I was witnessing now was sheer relief. The look in this dog's eyes was undeniable.

     She had cleared the porch entirely; licked her fur clean. It was Rosey the good dog back on duty, having put Rosey the wild dog back in her inner world.  As I opened the front door she raced past me, sniffed out Boo, then went directly to her corner and with one circle she went plop! Within 2 minutes she was snoring so loudly I couldn't help but laugh....Guess the combination prowl of the night, growl of the morning and worrying all evening had taken its toll...But with her family back and her marking complete, all is right in Rosey's world.

From hunter to protector...to big dog to hug.

She is back in her number one role of loving...and I am back to mine.

They say we love dogs because they love us unconditionally, but today, it was realizing that I love HER unconditionally that stole my heart. For as distasteful as deer bones are to witness, Rosey is, after all, a Pyr, and this is part of what Pyrs do...Mine was a human reaction to a nasty carcass, not a judgment on Rosey being a good or bad. Rosey was just being Rosey. 

With growls back to snores...Rosey is back being "my girl" 

There is no doubt an animal to tame in all of us...

But the spiritual side of Rosey is like all our spiritual sides...

It just wants to love and be loved...

And while I've long known Rosey's love for me is unconditional, tonight her snores tell me she knows mine for her is too...(good, bad, wolfy or indifferent)...She's a package deal of moods, traits and habits, as we all are...Some are more pleasing than others, but you don't throw the dog out with the deer bones and you don't abandon those you love when times aren't pretty.

I didn't abandon you girl.  I just had some meetings to get to. (Sorry if I didn't make that clear.)

Oh the lessons I'm learning...

Second only to the love...

You and me, Rosey...We are family.

(Still and so, your breath kinda stinks!)

Water Concerns (Part 2)

            One of the good things about the Internet (and Facebook in particular) is its ability to draw folks together when a call to action is in order. One such scenario now taking place is the growing number of pics and posts by concerned customers of Laguardo Utility District as we note something seriously disconcerting coming from our water pipes.

            While a nuisance for holiday settings and costlier yet for ruined dishwashers and Keurig brewers everywhere, I fear these are the least of our problems.

            At the risk of speaking out of turn (for if ever calm heads need prevail, now is that time) it seems a thorough investigation (along with more testing, more discussion, more answers) is in order, after all there is a huge difference between taking note and taking action. To get to real answers,  a structured and orderly plan is needed and needed now. (So far I've seen lots of pictures, but no suggestions.)

            Personally I've been concerned about our water for awhile now, though my initial concerns did not start with cloudy glasses, but instead with my neighbors--specifically, my neighbors with cancer. Of all the people I know on my road (I know or knew 12), more than half have battled, are battling or have succumbed to the disease. My uncle died of bladder cancer. His wife, of blood cancer, (leukemia.) Another battles prostate cancer (with weakened kidneys noted as contributing to the complications). His wife deals in perpetual bladder infections and his mother was recently hospitalized for a severe kidney infection. Three other neighbors have had skin cancer; one has died. Another neighbor, likewise won the prostate cancer battle. I, myself, have gall stones.

            Am I saying our water caused this? No. I am saying it seemed a high statistic for one street and it is what piqued my curiousity both personally and as a journalist. I am also saying that the most recent test results I’ve been able to find on our water quality are not good as it pertains to contaminants (See link below.) That things appear to have gone from bad to worse since Laguardo switched us from lake to ground water is something I also want answers for. (i.e. How bad was the city's lake water that left this our best alternative?)

            One of the many benefits of participating in our county’s Master Gardening program are the people you meet and the resources you come across. Having read a recent blog of mine on the subject, one of my fellow classmates wrote to me two days ago to offer insight. (Note: She does not work for Laguardo, but is trained in these matters) She shared:

You are correct in the assumption that the water quality did change when the utility company switched from lake sourced water to a well.  Your water went from soft to hard.  

 In our area, ground water can be high in total dissolved solids (iron, manganese and magnesium).  Most conventional soaps and detergents don't do well with hard water.  As a result of that, you see films and water spots on just about everything.  Try switching to products made for use in hard water.

Utility companies are required by law to send their customers a Consumer Confidence Report (CCR).  It is usually is in a water bill.  One of the parameters listed is total dissolved solids.  It may be interesting to compare the before and after numbers. 

            Given I pay my bills automatically, I have not seen this report, though I am looking into it. As a matter of animal husbandry, I will be independently testing my water to compare it to what I will soon be switching to, having just dug a well. 

           Though not an alarmist, this is serious stuff in anybody’s book.

            I have neither the time nor the interest for spearheading some crusade, rather, it is my goal as a girl who writes about her experiences in farming and sustainability to share personal observations, including any steps I might take out of concern for myself, my animals and the people I love. That it falls within the purview of what I blog about, the topic is fair game, and my concerns, sincere and valid. That said, I am not an investigative reporter; I am not an attorney; nor am I a scientist, though I am hopeful that people in these professions along with the necessary others will join forces (and soon) to create a proper panel to investigate this matter as I suspect the problem may be bigger than a few dirty dishes (and I'm not crazy about the dirty dishes).

http://www.water-delivery.org/WaterQuality/Lebanon/Wilson_County/Tennessee/Laguardo_Utility_District