Long day, but good here. You know, I do have to confess that when I write these blogs later in the evening, they are something akin to watching “The Waltons.”
“Ma and pa toiled away, while grandma bailed the hey….”
…and all of us knit away on Mad Man Mountain. (Can you imagine if we actually HAD a place on a hill and called it that?)
It was a good day, and we knit and crocheted our hands away, but there in our hearts was always burning a comforting desire to have a bowl of chili when it was all finished, kiss each other on the cheek, and head towards slumber. And in this cycle we never forget that we are purposely moving ourselves towards an important goal. He and I don’t want more than we can handle. We don’t care for red carpets and limousines. We don’t care for mansions and sports cars. We yearn for simpler things. Purpose. Giving. Honest compassion. Yes, we do this for something in our hearts. We pay the bills with it, we feed ourselves with it, we lay in bed and night and dream not of grand things, but of a quiet place to dwell where my spring flowers blossom quickly, where his tomatoes multiply quickly, where the tone of the day is not set by the news, but on how loud the birds chirp; where we race not to get ahead, but to just simply break even. Those are the things that light tender nights aflame with card games with just card games, and not nights out for dinner; where we break for a while and dance for some exercise; where the view of his smile heals my aching hands, or where the foolishness of something he’s done has caused me to finally crack, to where he honestly admits, “You know that was the first time you’ve laughed today…..”
We have what some may call “paupers” lives, but the riches we own is nothing you can hold, but only see. Yes, in our videos you finally get to see just what our relationship is like. Full of laughter, full of conversation, full of respect. You can see how we compliment each other. All my deficiencies, he surpluses, and likewise, the same goes for him.
We’re not moved by a fight to survive. That was once my ambition. To only survive. And God, how miraculous life can be. I have been given through these days and years and hours of fret the reminder that survival isn’t just eating, and having some place to live….but, that you must also have someone to love. (Which is so different than having someone love YOU….huge difference. One requires a lot of work and patience on your part, the other allows you to relish….)
You must also have a dream in order to survive. You must have something to look forward to, for what all the spinning, turning of the green earth day after day results in, all the years you spend toiling must be FOR something, all you emotions burnt and spent, broadened and built must all come to SOMETHING. Something attained in the heart, in the soul, and in the material world.
It’s now about 10pm and I’m finally settling down to gear myself towards bed. The chili was awesome. Phillip is in his space working on his third “Strange Friend” of the day. My needles are resting, my eyes crossing 🙂 I’m off to bed as soon as this episode of “Murder, She Wrote” is finished.
Not all of our days are good. Sometimes we push and push and push and nothing happens and we stress. Then we have good days where we feel like we’re kings of some unusual cottage industry. But, when the good days happen, don’t think for a moment that we don’t rest our heads on our pillows and think of all of you.
Phillip has some new Strange Friends that need new homes. You can find them in our shop.
Well, I’m about ready to turn out the light. The crickets are chirping on Mad Man Mountain. Ma and Pa are snuggled into bed, while Grandma begins to rest her sleepy head.
(And Phillip and I whisper to each other, “Only $200 to go before we’re debt free…..”
Good night, John Boy…..
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