Kristen Blog

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminder Of every glove that laid him down Or cut him til he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving." But the fighter still remains... -Simon and Garfunkel I have a tendency to clinch.  I am a natural fighter.  I am immediately, simultaneously on defense and on the offense.  I will battle you at the slightest provocation.  I like to think I have softened a bit over the years, but... I have, for example, COMPLETELY destroyed my jaw.  It is an embarrassing fact that every time - every single time - I chew, my jaw makes an audible popping sound.  When feeling my jaw muscles, my dentist expressed shock.  "Now those are some of THE STRONGEST jaw muscles I have ever encountered."  I am an anomaly.  I admit I am a tad ashamed.  I will hesitate to eat around you.  And sometimes, quite often really, I even annoy myself. Sometimes, I catch myself on

I have a hero. I was unimpressed when we first met.  She was a lovely, petite blond. (I am old enough and secure enough to be able to compliment these things, without bitterness and jealousy, for the most part.  It has, actually, become one of my favorite pastimes - complimenting women...freely and joyfully, complimenting other women.  I find the rare purity of a genuine compliment with no ulterior motive to be, unanimously, well-received.) But I did not compliment this particular woman.  I did not even like her, at first.  In my defense, she had unknowingly set herself up as my enemy from the very start of our relationship.  What kind of personality must she have to do this job every day of her life?  Did she really choose this?  She must be so stiff and unkind. Oh the judgments we make when we are unaware.  So unfair. We would spend a significant amount of time together in the next few days, the Undertaker and I.  And I would do weird things.  I have learned to be uninhibited

Most mom's posted ADORABLE pictures of their kids' back-to-school day this week.  (Dillon's teacher took this one.👆)  Their kids looked clean, bright and shiny in their bustling, back-to-school excitement.  I, however, shouted a special, "Have a good first day!" from my bed as my children walked themselves to the bus.  (Don't worry...Matt was, at least, awake for their first day adventures!) I've given up on trying to be the typical "everything" Mom.  I've never really been a "typical" kind of gal.  (And I certainly NEVER claimed to be a morning person!) But...I have other things to offer 😉...so I have also given up on feeling guilty about the things that just don't come naturally to me...like shopping and decorating for holidays and being completely prepared for the first day of school.  (I just can't seem to get the hang of advanced planning!  And, by advanced, I kind of mean more than the day before.) Fortunately

Well...last night was a bad, bad night.  It's interesting how just the knowledge of what is to come can taint even the best of days.  Sometimes it's simply the knowledge that a bad day pretty much has to be coming, because I've had so many good days in a row.  They can't, after all, be the perfect, fulfilling, productive day.  After so many in a row, you just start to dread, "So...is the crappy day going to be tomorrow?" I'm the kind of person who has to have those anxious fears pretty much every night.  I.n.s.o.m.n.i.a.c.  It runs in my blood.  It is not easy knocking out all of this for a consistent 8 hours!  I spend a good part of each day just plotting how I am going to get myself to fall asleep and stay that way for a decent amount of time. And I have to admit, since Kerri died, I've become a little too lax with the wine and Benadryl.  There's irony for you...my sister dies of (ultimately) alcoholism, and I respond by drinking more.  Sma

There was this woman I knew.  The first time I met her, I spent the night in her home.  My sister barely knew her then, and I knew her even less.  But...I was young and wild, and I would follow my sister anywhere.  And I really have no idea the context of how in the world we ended up at her home that night, and I'm not quite sure how things went in the morning.  I do know, however, that Joan's son became my brother (and he will always be my brother).  And I know how much I grew to love and respect Joan. She is the grandmother to 4 of my nieces and nephews.  She held traditions.  She made pies with the girls for Thanksgiving.  She threw grand celebrations.  I was always happy the few times our worlds would collide.  She was flamboyant.  I mean that in the most elevated, dignified sense of the word.  This woman, truly, was one-of-a-kind.  And she was kind.  She was kind to everyone, so far as I could see.  She gave my daughter a fancy little glass, because she thought she n

It's just the kind of thing we do... And the kind of "coincidence" that tends to happen around here. She asked for a rabbit.  I said no.  She begged.  She pleaded.  I said no. We have been through this pet thing before, and I know where it always lands.  And the thing about me is...I am NOT a good pet person.  I have little patience enough to begin with, add in the kids, and there is absolutely NO ROOM left for a pet. She kept at it.  She persisted.  So did I. She decided she would rather have a sloth. I found a french angora that would provide me with wool, and she named it Sloth.  (Guess who is, now, the sole provider for Sloth...he is fortunate he is one of the few productive pets I am determined to keep.) She wanted a kitten.  "You don't even take care of Sloth.  Why would I get you a kitten?!" "You won't let him stay in my room." "Rabbit poop." She sends me pictures of kittens. "NO!" Unr

Well...this summer has been defined by "No Rain"!  It has been "hot, hot like the sun...the loneliest one...still everything beautiful." We have definitely managed some surprises in the garden, for sure. (Right Matt? 😉)   It is growing more and more productive.  The blackberries are getting established.  The raspberries even produced.  Tiny and scant, but production all the same.  The grapes are really starting to thrive, and even the apple trees gave us a few first fruits. The chickens will not shut up.  This is the loudest flock...I am NOT kidding...I've ever had,  If they hear me blow my nose in the kitchen, they are at it...definitely a demanding little group.  But they are productive.  So, I tolerate them. Of course, I am their sole keeper.  Matt has washed his hands of this filthy business.  I can't blame him.  I had no idea what I was signing up for when I promised to maintain full responsibility if only we could have four instead of two