The Magic of Being 30.

Graduating from college.
When I decided to finish my degree (slash start my degree in Positive Psychology) I figured it was just a check mark on my life list.  Something I'm supposed "to do."
But let me tell you!
I feel smarter.
I feel like I can play Sudoku on the hardest level and do the Sunday crossword in the NY Times.
I'm pacing myself and playing on the moderate Sudoku level- mostly because I like going in order.  And I'm trying to keep my book nice.
I keep getting these great ideas for apps.  And in my head I'm saying, "I'll type up the code for that tonight and sell it in the morning!  Ching.  Cool million.  Made."
Now, I don't know how to write code.  I'm not even sure that's what it's called- but I'm confident I can learn it.  And quickly too.
I'm envisioning ways to redesign my house like those people on Inception where they can walk up walls and create any world.  That's me.  Walls removed and rebuilt.  Indoor greenhouses.  Wall to wall sewing machines.  A bread room.  It's just flowing from me.
I've made myself a few cups of tea- because it is my personal belief that smart people drink tea.
Especially teas with names like, "Keemun Concerto" and "Breakfast in Paris."
Those teas have just got smart people written all over it.
Unfortunately, and to my dismay, I still strongly dislike the taste of tea.
But!  I have found that simply holding a mug filled with steeping steaming tea provides the same feeling of intelligence.
See?  Miss Smarty here (that's-a-me) figured that one out with her big college degree.

I've also recently turned 30.
And something magical has been transfixed within me.
The cloud of confidence I normally walk on has grown in magnitude to an out-right thunderhead that is unstoppable.

I am a force.

Someone asks me to do something and I'm like..
Psht!  Yeah.
I can do it with my eyes closed.
I can do it standing on one foot.
I can do it with one hand tied behind my back.

A few people have made the jokes about turning 30 and getting old- and I'm just not on board there.  Why is 30 old?  I feel more like myself now.  More full of life and breath.  More excited than I've ever been.  Being 30 is buoyant.  The uneasiness I had as a "twenty-something" that I didn't even know I had; has vanished.
Now, I feel if someone questioned my parenting abilities, cooking techniques, driving skills, fashion choices, grammar usage, weight gain, or spelling- I can simply say:
"I'm 30.  I've got this."
Because I do.

 

I've got this.

Ribbon Cutting!

Well.  It's official.  We opened a farm.  Had the ribbon cutting ceremony today.  It was remarkable.  I gotta say *clears throat* some mega scissors and some majestic music and an audience...*clears throat* and some ribbon would have made it really remarkable.  But.  None the less.  Welcome!  (arms spreading)

Yup.  I named 'er.  You kinda have to.  Haven't you ever seen Sarah Plain and Tall?  You have to write your name in the dirt.  I wrote mine in letters from Porters, some barn paint, and wood.  But the essence is the same.  We named it Crooked Row Farm because upon planting our first seedlings this year with the kids... nothing was straight.  Nothing looked clean and pristine like I pictured it in my head (or how I sketched it in the agricultural blue print.).  So.  I embraced it.  And then made this sign.  It's about to blow up Pinterest.  Every one is gonna be naming their backyard. 
In March we got 5 chicks.

They became my little beebees.  They were soft and cuddly.  And poofy!  And would peck little food seeds out of my hand.  I was always checking in on my chickies.  I worried about them and would get out of bed in the middle of the night to make sure they were warm and okay.  They were literally like my newborns.  But heavens to Betsy...have they grown fast.  Just like my real human chickies.

They went through a weird phase...Can you see the resemblance?

They kinda turned into crabby old bitties.  It was always something with them.  I never had their water just the right temperature.  They wanted their meal at 5:30 not 5:15.  Fresh bedding twice a day not once a day.  So.  I built them their own place where I couldn't hear them squawk.

 I know what you're going to say.  It needs a little wreath about the door, huh?  Or a house number.  Or a plaque.  I keep telling The Kenmo, "I want to name the chicken coop."  But the only name I can come up with it Pollo Fundido.  And that's what he orders at Garcia's.  PLUS!  With that name I'd have to stucco this whole thing- add some blue tile... it could get pricey.  And naming a chicken coop seems to be beyond Ken's level of tolerance.  So.  Probably a wreath.  And flowers will go in with warmer weather. Naturally.

Every good running farm has a farm dog.  So...Check!

Dook at doze eyez.  We adopted Oreo four days after we got the baby chicks.  It was an animal overload for the first 36 hours.  But turns out Oreo is about the lowest maintenance dog in existence.  I have to beg him to take a walk with me because all he ever wants to do is snuggle.  Which I love.  I love dogs for their unlimited snuggling capabilities.  The only down side to Oreo's snuggling is sometimes he Steamies me.  A Steamie is when a dog (or Ken) is really close to my face and then breathes hot air breath onto it and a muggy warm layer of thin condensation forms on my cheek.  Worst sensation.  A Steamie.  Do it to somebody.  They'll hate it.
We started seedlings when we were deep deep in the Winter Doldrums  and have slowly been moving them into the Great Outdoors as we've slowly moved out of our Winter Doldrums.  And we plugged about 30 raspberry starts out there. 

 

 It is such a feeling of accomplishment to see growth.  A little plant that will provide food for your family.  It's incredible!  I guess Mother Nature's real name is Patty Poulsen.  And, don't worry, to ensure that feeling of accomplishment and triumph persisted through the Spring, Summer, AND fall- I planted ONE HUNDRED strawberry plants!  A Hundy.  (If those were dollars I'd be rich.)

But they're not dollars they're strawberry plants.  Ha-rumph.  I did get to thinking though.  Even with all the Cool Whip in the world; can I eat all the strawberries 100 plants will produce?  I don't doubt much about myself- but this is indeed doubtful.  So!  I had the greatest idea to sell my surpluses at the local Farmer's Market!  I got into a late night text cahoot with my friend about a booth we'd start with my berries, her honey from her backyard swarm, and maybe some crafts or something.  We were drawing up our business plan and designing our logo to put on our jars of homemade preserves when Ken asked me what I was so excited about.  "I'm going to sell all my extra strawberries at the Farmer's Market!  We can use all the money I earn to go on vacation!"  Ken stared.  I squealed "Isn't that fanTASTIC?" in response to his silence.  He said, "You might have 2 pints of extra strawberries from your strawberry patch.  It's not as big as you think."  PSHZzzzzzzuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeewwwww. <--- That's my dreams deflating.
At any rate.  I'm so proud of my farm.  It's becoming a lifestyle for me that I am so comfortable in.  I love working in the dirt all day.  Tending to the land.  And teaching my boys how to become self-sufficient. I feel like I am on a good and well trod path.  It's idyllic and romantic and makes my heart beat harder.  Or... it could be all that shoveling and tilling that is making my heart beat faster...

I can't dig a hole without kids climbing in!

 

Yup.  Those are mine.
I'm really into Duck Dynasty right now.  And these really are extremely functional.
And East Coast Yuppie Meets Farming For The First Time with a Martha Stewart thing going on.

Come on by anytime you want.  Admission is free.


P.S.  I am considering an egress from Facebook.  If you want to keep up on the blog posts- subscribe!   Right over there on the right-- there's a button. 

B is for Believe in Magic

When we were younger, my sister, Victoria, claimed she had magical powers.  She could do anything if everyone believed in her 100%.  If one person had one iota of doubt... her powers were diminished.  I can remember a Saturday when we were in charge of cleaning the garage.  (I think we had plans to make it into a rollerskating rink.)  We had completed and were left with a huge pile of dirt mixed with spiders in the middle of the garage. Victoria said she could make the pile disappear with her magical powers.  Rounds of "prove it" broke out.  Victoria closed her eyes, stretched out her hand, and the pile remained.  Someone didn't believe.  The magic wouldn't work.  Vicky assured us that one of us lacked belief.  Because her powers were real.
I was a believer then and I'm a believer now.
Victoria does have magical powers.

She travels, dances, judges food contests, paints.  She writes, runs in marathons, she has impeccable taste in .... gosh, everything.   Victoria is a force for good in her community.  People are drawn to her.
Like magic.
And it's taken me 28 years- but I think I've figured out her trick.
It doesn't matter if everyone or anyone believes she can do it.
Victoria believes she can do it.
So she can do anything.
Her magic lies within her because she knows who she is. 
When I listen to Victoria talk about her wife, her most recent publications, her latest favorite song... it's like an incantation. 
She pours her spell over me and suddenly, I feel magical too.
I'm excited about Hanson or organic farms in Allegheny County.  I care about things I had never heard of up until 5 minutes ago.  And not only that...
I feel like I can do anything and be good at it.

The key to Victoria's magic is confidence.

There is no need to be afraid of confidence.
Especially in yourself.  It isn't vain.  It isn't prideful.
It's comforting, inviting, and exciting.

If you don't feel like yourself...
Try new things until you find something that excites you.
Maybe it will be a musical instrument.
Or slam poetry.
Or taking walks.
Maybe you'll enjoy watching birds.
Watching movies.
Or crochet.
Eat foods you love and then try a dessert you've never had.
Visit a place you've never been.  And bring a book.
If you've tried something and don't feel comfortable.
Stop.
Try something else.
Look in your local paper for classes that are available.
Pottery, gardening, writing, parenting, photography, karate, sculpting, bonsai.

Once you find what delights you, stick with it.

You will feel like a burning version of yourself.
Alight and alive.

You'll feel magical.

Victoria.

So you know that I love me or in case you wanted to know a little more: Patters
Last year's A to Z: Barbies
B could also be for Big Bully