Today, I'm needing some extra energy. Not as in "Dude, I need some good vibes", but more like "Tea! NOW!"

This was just the beginning...

Know what I mean, Vern?

I have more things to do than I have the energy (or time!) to accomplish... Piles of clean clothes that need to be folded. Dinner that needs to started. Business stuff that needs to be completed. Chicken projects that needed to have been started weeks ago. Acres of grass to be mowed. Plants that need to be planted. A new venture that needs attention. Oh, and a messy house. (No way to forget the toy-ridden, unorganized, ain't-got-no-time-for-it house.) Plus a family (and farm!) that seems to need every ounce of attention all day, err day.

Fresh butter in the makin'.

And, let me just throw in the fact that we're about to move and start building our house.

Oh, yes, our house...

You remember the dream house I told you about? And how you'd been so kind and reassuring? Said that everything would work out and all would be fine? We even drank some Koolaid together?

Well...you were wrong, my friend. Wrong by around 12 months. Don't worry, though... I know you had good intentions.

(Wait, but what's that they say about good intentions and a hot, fire-y, brimstone-y place? *I kid, I kid.)

And here's where I'm gonna tell you the same thing I've been telling myself - It's okay. It's oh-kay.

...and even though this is so true, panic is starting to set in a little.

Not so much that we just might have to move in with my mom, but that through all of these changes, we have a family to hold steady. I want to do everything in my power so that my little lady never knows instability... So we're trying to focus on the fun of it all and how we can paint her room "regular blue", drink fresh lemonade on our new porch, and hear our eager roosters crow every morning. And, thus far, she seems unfazed and up for whatever. (She's a rockstar like that.)

I keep reminding myself that with each passing day, my family is getting closer and closer to our dream house. And for that, I'm so thankful. I'm thankful for this sweet, sweet life and all that it brings. And even though I'm up to my eyeballs in this adventure and feeling all of the effects of its roller coaster-ness (the thrill of the hills and the nausea of the valleys), I've been trying to soak it all in; knowing everything is short-lived and life is fast-paced.

So let's have a cup of Earl Grey and *toast* to land that perks and a basement that doesn't leak. Cheers!

thirty is flirty. (not)

I'm feeling old. And reflective. And emotional. But mostly just reflective.

Why? Because I'm 30. 

Yep. It's hard for me to swallow too. I mean, I still get those looks like "Aww naw, you can't be no older than 14; 16 at the most."

And I still get stopped at least 12 times to have my ID checked when we go to a casino.

And don't even get me started about me looking too young to have a kiddo...

So, of course, my mind just cannot wrap around how in the world I've gotten so old, so fast.

(I know 30 is not old in the grand scheme of things, but it feels a whole heck of-a lot older than 29. So, knowing that I'm aware of that, let's precede with this old lady's thoughts...)

And, I mean, I still have nightmares about high school. 

You know the ones - you're late a final, but you make it somehow...only to find out that you cannot even understand the questions on the test. I mean, they're total jibberish. Then you remember that if you fail this one test, you can't graduate. So, basically, your gonna be stuck in high school forever. 

And a nightmare like that couldn't happen to someone who's 30, right? 

Wrong! It can. And it does. All.Of.The.Time.

So, back to my birthday...

I was up in the middle of the night, thinking about what the day would bring. You know, because the first day in my 30's would have to be different than the last in my 20's. And that made me a little ill.

I kept thinking about my journey and how I got here. I mean, I'm okay with this new year I've added. (Kinda.) And I'm sure age is like a fine wine - the older you are, the more...well...fine...Right?

Plus, the 30's are where it's at. It's the cool age. 

No? See, that's what I'm feelin' too. 

I actually told a friend that 30 is not the new black - it's the new grey. Because, as luck would have it, 30 has ushered in a wave of grey hairs. And not just a few - a whole tuft of greys; right in the back of my head. And that's just the cherry on top of this ol' cake I'm already chokin' down. 

But before I just throw in the towel and embrace the fact that life as I know it is over and it's all downhill from here, I'm trying to think of all of the good things that elderly life will bring (because there has to be a couple, right?)...

The first difference I should tell you about is my musical taste. Just a few weeks ago, I was happily driving with my windows down, not a care in the world, listening to Taylor Swift. Now, I prefer to clean my kitchen to the sounds of instrumental folk or Cat Stevens, stopping every few minutes to sip my warm, aged Earl Grey tea.

See?! Old lady behavior. It came outta nowhere and slapped me right in the face.

And with every day, I've been taking more and more notes (which is totally not like me), so I can know what I've been up to and keep my thoughts straight.

I know life's just begun and it's gonna be great and all, but sometimes it all seems so fleeting.

One day I'll be truly grey and laugh at myself for being young and dramatic. But today I'm devastated.

Okay... maybe not devastated. But definitely a tad bit uneasy about the whole thing... ;)

So, on that note, let's all raise our Earl Greys to this new decade, watch a little of The Lawrence Welk Show, and take a good, long nap! 

one chick, two chicks...

Ever heard of chicken math?

Yeah, I hadn't either...

...until Spring sprang and I was caught in it's deceptive little web. It's sticky and tangly and just pulls you right in. Before you know it, you're elbows deep in baby chicks and being called a chicken lady.

P's teaching the cats how to have patience...and balance...

And, if you know me at all, that's the furthest thing I could have ever imagined being called... Birds in general have never been my thang. I was totally like Eww! Those nasty things - peckin' and poopin' everywhere...

And here I come to you, asking for understanding as I have turned a corner somewhere and now fully and completely get this so-called "chicken math".

Georgie and her new babe 

I'm calculating and recalculating...and they are adding and adding...

But, rest assured, I do have a plan. Or plans. Loads of 'em...

Some of them are obvious (eggs and meat) and others being more creative (like compost help and garden tilling). But let's not get ahead of ourselves; right now they are just tiny little peepers without a care in the world.

(Don't tell them that we have high expectations and will be putting them to work soon. Let's just let 'em bask in the constant warmth and coziness that is my garage...where the food comes easy and the pace is slow.)

So, until next time, don't count your chickens before they hatch...or you might get a little "math" lesson of your own...