Today I bought a vintage hope chest, to work on and refinish as a project with my oldest daughter.

For being a solid decade older than myself, it’s in pretty good shape. All it will need is a corner of lifting veneer reglued and a fresh coat of clear shellac to bring it back to its early 1960s prime.

But  I didn’t buy it because it is made of beautiful walnut wood with amazing graining, or because it is built to construction standards you cannot even find in furniture today, or because it’s worth $200 more than I paid even in current condition. Not that any of that is not enough, but I bought it for another reason.

I bought it because it’s time for my daughter and I to start talking in ernest about the idea of maturing from girl to woman, and of marriage. And preparing for marriage. And what that means.

I am not even sure if they still make hope chests to this day, or market them to every girl of a certain age in  high school with a free tiny cedar box, but they used to back in my day and in generations before. 

I remember when I brought my tiny cedar box home from high school, excited about the idea of a hope chest, and how my mom nipped that idea in the bud right quick. (I still have the little box, but never got a hope chest.)

In my mom and many of her generation’s mind,  hope chests represented a thing of the past. Gone, she believed, were the days were a girl needed to put things to start a home aside, dream of a good man,  and plan to bring something to the table to start a new life with him when that time came. As a team.

As I have written multiple times in the past, perhaps it was well intended “modern” advice, to put off marriage and kids as long as possible while focusing instead on self, but in reality it was disastrous (socially speaking.) No. That experiment has failed.  Clearly.

I think it’s time to bring back the idea of the hope chest and all it represents.

I look forward to restoring this sweet little chest with my daughter and the many discussions about all of that that will come.

Luckily my oldest is a sensible girl, she’s not boy crazy, and she’s not wanting to date even though she is the age where many would have racked up multiple notches already on too young of a belt.

I hope and pray that she will wait, find her other half, hitch up, and live happily ever after.  Without all the drama, trauma, and heartache “dating loads of guys first” can bring.

I hope that she will wait for her one and only and that they will be together for their entire lives.

What mom with any sense would not wish that for her daughter? Or not encourage her to indulge in the idea of a hope chest and fill it with the best of dreams?

Happily ever after is a good thing to dream of, plan for, work toward, and stick to.

I look forward to supporting that adventure!

What do you think? Please share in the comments! 

Yesterday, my oldest came running up all excited from the chicken coop.

“Mom, I think they’re hatching! Come see!”

We snuck down for a look at momma hen, who a few months ago started sitting a nest the very next day after the local coyotes got three of our six laying hens. Gotta rebuild, I guess? Trouble was the eggs were duds.

We used to have a rooster, as I personally love the sound of one crowing in the morning, and because they protect and guide the hens, so I don’t have to. If you watch chickens you’ll see, the hens wander around, pecking and looking down as they scratch and forage for tasty seeds, plants, and insects. The rooster stands near the flock on alert, always scanning around and above for danger. I have lost several Roos to coyotes as they heroically threw themselves between them and the hens while loudly sounding the alarm, “Danger, back to the coop!” 

But after the last roo decided my three-year-old was a danger and flew at her and then anyone —including my ex who grabbed it and wrung it’s neck on reflex when it flew at him when he came to pick up our daughter — so into the pot it went, and we have been roosterless since.

But I digress.

So when the hen decided it was time for babies, she parked parked herself in a corner in the coop with a clutch of eggs and trust me, the look in her eyes told me, she was NOT going to let me take those eggs!

I told a friend of mine, whose farmer husband helps me out from time to time with bigger projects, “I don’t know how to break it to her, but she can sit there as long as she wants, but those eggs won’t hatch.”

The next day my friend showed up with five eggs from her place. She has almost 30 chickens, and a rooster. She cooed at the hen as she slipped the old dud eggs out, and the new fertile ones in about three weeks ago.

Yesterday, my daughter and I sat and watched the hen hunkered down in the corner, feathers a bit more fluffed and posture a bit more defensive and “stay the hell away” than usual. All ears. Then we heard it… “peep, peep.”

I can’t tell you how that sound brought such joy to our hearts! After all the trial these past few months, as the world got seemingly weirder by the day, we really needed that moment of lightness. Yay!

I think I heard two, but I didn’t want to disturb momma, and the chicks were tucked safely under her warm belly out of sight. We’ll find out how many there are soon enough, but for now we just want her to stay put on the last few eggs until they all hatch out.

(Nobody is a better momma than a momma hen, by the way! Lucky chicks! I feel sorry for ones raised by a lamp, no momma to fuss over them constantly. )

The rest of the day felt more hopeful, thanks to those peeps. And my daughter had a huge smile for the rest of the day.

Despite what current social norms say, about babies holding women back, I think babies —feathered, furry, or human — actually lift us up!

Trust me, as a woman who has lived in a man’s world, I would much rather be surrounded by cute little faces beaming with love, than sit in a room surrounded by competing and often unethical colleagues who don’t care a lick about me or anything but getting in front of the  line, no matter how ruthlessly they do it. No thanks.

As I lay here in bed, typing this on my phone before the rest of the house awakens, two adorable little faces are gazing upon me with love. They are the last two kittens from a group of four feral ones my neighbor rescued out of a long parked and abandoned VW Baja and then brought to me, his soft hearted neighbor who he knew would be happy to bottle feed them and find them homes. Two were adopted this weekend, and these last two will be going to live together at their forever home in a week.

Until then, I am going to revel in their cuteness,  and let their constant little baby needs distract me from the cares of the world. Because that’s what babies do, and between them and peeking in on the chicks, I won’t have time to worry about myself or things happening in cities far away. It’s not about me. It’s all about them. What a relief!

Don’t let anyone tell you differently, babies are a blessing and their spark and new life lift us up in a way little else can. Enjoy it!

Hopefully one of those five eggs contains a rooster! I’ll be watching close to see if any of the baby chicks stands more upright and looks up and around, unlike the rest.

What do you think? Please share in the comments! And I hope the news of our new arrivals lifted your soul up, too!

“Peep, peep!”

🐣🐥🐣🐥🐣

Something I have been pondering a lot lately is this concept of a lost generation.

Thanks to effective birth control, like many women of my generation, I was able to avoid pregnancy young, as I had been urged by my mom and others. They advocated to put off having children as long as possible. “Don’t waste your potential,” they said. “Invest in yourself.” As a result I had my first child at age 33 and my second at age 40.

I was very fortunate both times that I had no trouble conceiving, but I know many friends of my generation who are unable to do so in their 30s even with expensive medical assistance.

I have a 25-year-old helper who works in my business. She’s a go-getter, very enthusiastic, and is not afraid of getting dirty or doing whatever it is that needs done.

Her mom is the same age as I am, but obviously started younger. The more time I spend with her the more I realize I easily could have grown children her age, if I had started having children younger.  And how much I would enjoy it, if so.

When I ponder how much help she is to me and how much help a son her age might also be, I am not sure the advice to put off becoming a mom was so wise. Her young 20s energy is a great fit with my middle of the journey experiences.

Sure I enjoyed my 20’s, travelled, built my career, did things I maybe could not have done with little ones. And yet, was it worth it? Not really. 

When I did finally become a mother I realized I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. Even pregnancy it was not the misery I was expecting it to be, and had been warned that it would be. Perhaps I got lucky there but I never felt so good in my life as when I was expecting my two children.

And don’t get me wrong, I love my kids a lot and they are a source of great joy and are getting more helpful with age. No regrets! Yet I could practically be their grandmother, versus their mother, no matter how young I may look or act for my age.

Although I did not notice it in my youth, I now notice the “missing generation” more with time. I wonder how many others have this same longing later in life, recognizing what could have been that will never be?

There are some who believe every child is a gift, a golden crown. Planned or unplanned, perfect timing or not. The older I get the more clearly I see this is true.

Do not fear or put off having children, would be my advice. Celebrate each and every one! Surround yourself (and your good man!) with them if you can, and raise them up in a happy intact home. Build your tribe!

Sure, you may have to put yourself aside, but the return on that investment simply cannot be matched. To enter midlife and the elder years surrounded by a supportive family unit that you have invested in is gold. Not that this alone as a reason to have a family, but it is a good one!

I feel for my friends who have put careers first and never married or had children and who are seriously regretting that now. They post pictures of their fur babies and try to make it look like everything’s good but I know the sorrow in their hearts. Maybe not all of them, but more that way than not. And by the time that realization came, the ship had sailed.

And of course on top of birth control, there’s a whole other lost generation, the generation lost to Choice. Millions and millions who would never be. Many developed countries are grappling with this loss now.

Perhaps it’s all the unrest we have experienced over the past few months that brings this front and center. I find myself reevaluating what’s important, and looking back on what was important, and what was folly.

As I have written in the past when you were young it feels like life offers many chances. But with age you see every choice is a door opened or closed and there is rarely the opportunity to go back on the path and make different choices. We are all progressing along a linear line that is our life time.

Choose wisely so it adds up to a life well-lived!

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

(p.s. speaking of comments, while there are many worthy topics of discussion today, please try to stay on the topic this blog is about! Thank you!)

Sorry I have not been posting much of late but if you are new here check out the archives! And welcome! I am not sure there’s much I have not covered, but when an idea strikes I will be sure to post! Thanks for visiting!

Random but interesting moment today.

I was at a local mini mart. My daughter laughed and pointed at a sign on the car next to us. It was a funny sign, and it just so happened to be for something I needed to fix on my place years ago but have been putting off.

So I waved and honked and then after the guy rolled down his window explained how I was wondering if I could get a bid? He asked where I lived? Turned out he lives in my same area. And had the time. And so he showed up and looked at the situation.

In the meantime, as he measured and figured, he for whatever reason started sharing his life story. (It has happened to me for decades, not sure why, but people tell me stuff they say nobody else knows, I always feel so lucky even if sometimes people tell me too much. Or stuff I wish I didn’t know. But they do.)

So he told me how he was born and raised in the same faith as my kids former babysitter. But he said when he went to college he was exposed to ideas he had no idea at the time were so detrimental.

Like a darkness they grew. He confessed he stopped believing, became atheist, yet still knew playing along ment jobs and connections. So he did.

And yet, he said nihilism set in. A dark hour of the soul. And that for the first time, without higher belief, he understood in a way he never had before how people could not care, could in fact become a danger (like in a “how could this ever happen to innocent people who have nothing to do with it?” danger in the worst case and in a “enjoy the fall poolside, bring popcorn” person in the less worst case danger.)

So I can imagine only his surprise when I said I totally got it. Understood. And that it was only in my 40s myself that I realized I had been sold a bum deal my whole life. “Strong independent female” etc.

And that I agreed, society was degenerating daily in a way I could never have imagined even possible ten years ago. And that I did not understand. Or see going anywhere good.

He said in 1855-some his church predicted this — that men would become women and that women would become men.

And then more recently (3o-some years ago) his church predicted that right would become wrong and what was once considered wrong would become right. That it would flip.

And that there would be years of darkness and then it would be followed by an awakening.

Finally he wrapped up his measuring and figuring and gave me a bid. It was more than reasonable and I hope to hire him soon. I get the idea he would do an amazing job.

Anyway I am not sure what the point is except I am sure he’s likely never heard of the red pill. Yet he has clearly taken it. I found that interesting indeed.

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

Not long after I stumbled upon the manosphere and the Red Pill, a (rather dour tbh) regular of the blog I frequented at the time said something that really stuck with me.

“We are all just wandering through the smoking wreckage.”

Yep.We may not have detonated the bomb, or had any say in the plan way back when, but here we are today, now almost 50 years later, wandering through the smoking wreckage.

The idyllic past is gone, if it ever existed,  anyway. The present is a s#itshow, pardon my language. And so? Now that we find ourselves here, now, like it or not, what next?

Well there are really three choices. Denial. Nihilism. Or facing and making some personal best of the tactical reality on the ground. Ok, choice four is some version of self-destruction, but I would not suggest it. So let’s just cross that option off the list.

Maybe you had a perfect childhood. Maybe not. Maybe you have the lucky golden path. If you are reading this my guess is you (like 98% of us) did not. And even if you had both, it still might not be working out. Welcome to here, now. And so?

Chances are you can’t change it much, really, on a scale larger than yourself. Maybe you can but probably not really. Or not because that was your main goal.

The opportunities are in the margins, as they say. So rather than trying to fix anyone else much less the world, maybe just start by making something out of the smoking wreckage for you and yours.

What that will look like is highly individual, but it probably involves some version of what worked for centuries before the “modern way” and your own personal situation.

For some it may be going your own way. For others it may mean some form of long term commitment on whatever terms (legally committed, or committed without legal terms, or something inbetween.) For others, it may be something that others don’t understand but that works for those involved. Obviously there are more possible scenarios than I can ever name here. You know your own situation, limits, negotiables and and non-negotiables better than me.

In short: accept the past path is gone, feel free to reject the current path that’s got a 50/50 chance at best, and sift through and build the best version of tomorrow for your situation as you can, from among the smoking wreckage and options realistically available, based upon your personal pros and cons.

Speaking of, if your personal situation is more con than pro, start there. Nobody can fix you or save you. Take responsibility for your own stuff. Figure out what hasn’t worked and why and what parts of that are yours and yours to change.  Understand. Make those changes. Be what you yourself would expect from others. Don’t expect it all but bring little to none to the table.

Its true that despite all that, things may not work out as you hoped or planned. But doing more than 80% of others are surely can’t hurt your odds of crafting a life versus blindly and naively hoping for the best.

There’s not much among the smoking wreckage to work with, true. But at least if you know what it is you are trying to achieve and then are actually, actively, and ongoingly taking steps to get there it has got to lead to better odds than dumb luck or random chance. Or in the very least will help you avoid what you absolutely don’t want.

It’s far from ideal, it’s true. But it is what it is. Accepting that and then making the best of it as you can based on the options available and within your control is really the only viable path I can see. Rebuilding from rubble isn’t ideal or easy. But if it’s rubble you’ve got, and sticking with that isn’t what you want, what other options do you have? Start sifting and build what you can, or forget building and accept your choice without blame or bitterness.

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

The other day I happened to have a rare half hour of free time and be near a national historic site all dolled up for Christmas, so naturally I popped in to get some holiday cheer.

The tour guide, a retiree aged gal, was happy to tell me all about the place.

Maybe 10 minutes in, a dad and two teens came in. They naturally folded into my not scheduled tour.

The house we were touring has been home to many four and even five star generals in its day.

At one point, the tour guide started to explain how a certain room had once been limited to men over the age of 18.

Then the uncomfortable moment occurred — the two teens were most likely female genetically but expressing as males. (Not that I asked, just a best guess and 40+ years of experience.)

The nervous tour guide focused on the age vs gender limit, but I could tell she was struggling with the proper pronouns.

i thought, why on earth would anyone (these teen possibly genetically girls, for example) decide to identify as white males? Did they not know this is now the one and only demographic it is totally OK to discriminate against?

And  if white males are so terrible, why would anyone choose to identify as such? If they did not have to?

And maybe they just unfortunately were born genetically female but identified as white males despite the current disadvantage.

Anyway we all survived the tour. But I did wonder these things.  Not that it matters really.

What do you think?Please share in the comments!

(P.s. I recently read of a study that showed in the 1960s in mice that the birth control pill created marked statistically significant gender confusion in the third generation (grandchildren of females who took the pill) but that the data was suppressed. And we are here now in human generations. Would maybe explain the otherwise inexplainable? I dunno.. discuss… )

Lol, perhaps this poem from a book published in 1981 foretold the red pill:

Ladies First

Pamela Purse yelled, ‘Ladies first,’
Pushing in front of the ice cream line.
Pamela Purse yelled, ‘Ladies first,’
Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.
Climbing on the morning bus
She’d shove right by all of us
And there’d be a tiff or a fight or a fuss
When Pamela Purse yelled, ‘Ladies first.’

Pamela Purse screamed, ‘Ladies first,’
When we went off on our jungle trip.
Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse
And guzzled our water, every sip.
And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,
Who tied us together and made us all stand
In a long line in front of the King of the land-
A cannibal known as Fry-‘Em-Up Dan,
Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand
With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,
As he tried to decide who’d be first in the pan-
From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,
Pamela Purse yelled, ‘Ladies first.’

by Shel Silverstein

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

It is far more common in our culture for people to blame others, circumstances, the past, society, or other factors for their trials and tribulations than to look within.

Introspection does not mean self-blame, but rather self-examination. Many times it is our own beliefs, thought patterns, assumptions, habits, and frame of reference that offer the biggest opportunity to improve one’s life. Changing them can change everything.

Whether the issues are at work, home, or play, look within and ask if there are thing you can do, change, or be to affect positive change in your life in these areas?

Chances are in many cases you’ll find that understanding what steps you can take to improve things and doing so will get you much further than focusing on outside forces.

What do you think? Please share in the comments.