Unniversary, Year 2

Well, happy Unniversary, Cowboy! It's been a year since we were supposed to be married.

What has happened in that time, now that I think about it:

1. The Cowboy went to Alaska, and, after a fantastic number of trials and tribulations, he's doing... ...okay. Environmental conditions are favorable, but the housing conditions are not so much. We will see what happens. We take it day by day and deal with each thing that comes up. The weather, however, is much nicer than it is down here, by normal standards. Not by my standards, because I think it's obvious to you that I prefer a wet, raining climate. But Southern Alaska is warm and sunny this time of year. And, I am told, beautiful. Thousands of my dear fir trees. Hills and valleys. More trees.
2. I was given a (small-scale) publishing proposal and that novel is almost finished. To my utter surprise, the man who is heading up this endeavor wrote to me last night with a proposal on the NEXT book. This time a fantasy for children with lots of pictures. The best part? It requires me to create some elf costumes and procure elf ears. This is because I will be the elf in all the pictures. It all began with me earning the nickname of "The Elven Princess of the Woodlands" last week and the publisher/director had some free time to cook up a "Cora Special" story.

So as the year is reaching the halfway point, the Cowboy and I still have places to go and things to do.

Unfortunately, the places do not yet include a wedding yet.

Emily's Post

I thought that title line was particularly brilliant. Today must have been a long day if I thought THAT was brilliant!

Anyway, over on Emily's blog, she is hosting a give-away of mother-daughter aprons and gave a challenge to post things you're thankful for on our blogs. As I am a dedicated apronophile, I entered the drawing. But also I love to be thankful for things. Let's see how many things I'm thankful for that I can come up with in the next five minutes. Comments in parentheses were added later. :)

My Lord (Do I need to say a reason?)
My parents (for being patient and loving and... more patient... See various thankful things below...)
My brothers (yes, all of them!)
My grandparents who live next door (they have been instrumental in teaching me)
My home (a comfortable place to live, far beyond what most people in the world have)
Rain!
My kitties
Wonderful friends
"Adopted" family (this may come under "friends" but they are the people who are not blood-related but have let me into their lives and call me their sister or daughter)
Inside jokes
The ability to do arts and crafts
Good schooling (thanks to Mom, Grandma, Great-Grandma, and my wonderful college professors)
Educational and work opportunities
A job I love, coworkers who are good friends, an a boss I am proud to say I work for
Creativity
Good books to read
Tea :)
Food
A pretty valley to live in
The uniqueness of snow
How even after disasters, there is still life and beauty
The resilience of mankind
Batteries (Hey, I can be thankful for batteries!)
My dad's ability to fix everything
And that he didn't get upset when I (possibly? probably? most likely? almost definitely?) destroyed the faucet on the side of his shop on Friday when I tried to back his truck out of the used car lot that is our driveway. Maybe that's why we ran out of water Friday night...

Yep. That took slightly longer than five minutes, because I had to finish the bit with the faucet. Oops. Sorry, Dad! I... um... got him some M&Ms. And that made everything ok. Listen up, kids. M&Ms are like little dabs of magic. If there was such a thing as magic. They make everything better.

Ramblin' Man... Er, Woman...

I had a random thought the other day about a tiny subject that made me sad. With the trend of children using first names for adults (including their parents!), there is a distinct possibility that I will never be called "Mrs. Cowboy" by my children's little friends. I will merely be Cora.

All of my life, I've longed to be Mrs. MarriedSurname, but in our society of holding a greater value on childhood and youth than age and wisdom, people don't want to be thought of as "older" than the youth surrounding them. They take offense to being addressed as Mr. or Mrs. Surname. Even Sir or Ma'am, which were drilled into me as the most basic of decency are now abhorred.

Perhaps you think I'm strange. It wouldn't be the first time. I look forward to the gray hair and wrinkles in my future. To grandchildren. To growing old with my beloved Cowboy.

What do you think? Do you look forward to growing older? Would you be offended by being called Mrs. Surname or Mr. Surname?

...

My next ramble:

"'Um.' Society's Necessary Superfluous Sound"

Porthos the Pirate

Introducing the dashing new stranger residing in my home! His name is Porthos the Pirate, and he was given to me by the Queen of America. Those of you who get the reference are smiling right now. My friend who buys and refurbishes old machines gave it to me the other day: "Since you're like an adopted daughter to me, I've decided you must have one, and I couldn't possibly make you PAY for it since you're family!" Woah! Erm, thank you!

He is a Singer treadle sewing machine, one of 50,000 made in Elizabethport New Jersey on April 18th, 1921 (yes, 50,000 were made THAT day). That means, folks, that this is an entirely uncomputerized, non-electric sewing machine. Yay! The head (what you call the machine itself) is in great working condition, and I think the decals are to die for. :-P

It also weighs a ton. The head and the big pedal underneath are cast iron. Heaaaaaaaavy

"Well, I'm Back"

So Rosemary and Cora Beth both demanded asked that I return to the blogosphere.

Maybe it would be fitting to write an "In 2011, I plan to..." list. Even though I deny the idea that it is 2011. I just got used to writing 2010 instead of 2009. New Year's Grinch - That's me!

So in this year, which I still call 2010, I plan to...

1. Help my neighbor in her quest to learn how to tan animal furs. She has contacts from which to get the chemicals (we looked in to doing 100% at-home DIY stuff with the corn flakes and battery acid, and that was going to be way too much work; who said wagon train women couldn't be just a little lazy?). Yes, as everyone off the 'nets asks, and I'm sure you're about to, I do mean real honest-to-goodness rabbit furs.
2. Practice making bread and maybe *gasp* become proficient at it.
3. Make myself a more valuable asset at my work.
4. Practice being humble and submissive. I tend to have a bit of a stubborn streak.
5. Finish that nasty evil wretched wonderful quilt I started for the Cowboy. Only 296 more dumb simple and easy pieces of evil strong and manly denim to cut out. *sigh* Anyone have any spare jeans? I'll need them... Has anyone mentioned that Cora hates quilting? She does. Cutting stuff up to sew into a blanket with tons of waste in seam allowances? Unthinkable! Yet here she is...

And the one that I know I will HAVE to do:
6. Learn patience. This summer will be very difficult for me unless I can learn to fully rely on the Lord. But He's been giving me reason upon reason to trust Him in this venture. I know the Cowboy and I will learn much and come out better in the end, so part of me is excited, but the other part is dreading when the Cowboy leaves.

I'm sorry for abandoning you guys. I've missed you a lot.
~Cora

Re-Cap on the Trip

Yesterday... ah, yesterday...

The journey East began the night before, when the Cowboy got me and drove out to his parents' house (almost an hour east of here). We got there at 10:30. The next hour was spent rushing about getting canning jars prepared, things packed, and enjoying random jabber. We knocked off about midnight, the Cowboy went home, and we all went to bed. I ended up not getting to sleep until about 4 in the morning (sleep and I have an issue-filled relationship that I am trying to resolve, but to no avail). At 6:30 sharp, we were roused, fed, and preparations to leave were underway. 8:30 we pulled out of the driveway.

Commence future SIL's mobile internet connection and Pandora Radio with minor arguments between members of the outfit regarding gummy bears, speed limits, and whether we listen to classic rock or country music.

I have no idea what time it was when we reached the destination (a fruit field owned by a good friend of my great uncle). We picked a bazillion boxes of peaches. I think there were nine in all. Then four boxes of pears and five of tomatoes. I saw okra for the first time! And brought home some purple bell peppers! I had no idea those existed! Then we stopped for burgers and headed home.

Commence more music and minor arguments.

The Cowboy got me home at about 8-8:30pm and I went to milk my goats. And that was about it. Woot. I brought back to my mother three boxes of peaches, one box of pears, and one box of tomatoes. And two purple peppers (how could you pass THAT up?). Oh, and a cantaloupe.

And an acorn squash. Oooooooh, I can almost taste the buttery, brown-sugary goodness in that squash, cooked up in the oven until the butter melts and turns the sugar into a lava sauce that burns your mouth and is divine... *hearts* I love food.

Of Dreams and Schemes

First and foremost: All work for/on the local fair is over! Yay! We got done with all the clean-up and everything. You can tell I'm exhausted because I spelled "done" as "dun," then stared at it for a moment before realizing why it looked funny. *Siiiiiiigh*

Nextly: I went to a little, tiny SCA event (Society for Creative Anachronism [How did I spell that correctly and misspell "done" up there?]) and saw lots of cool stuff. They study Medieval society and attempt to recreate it. Made me want to sew up some new costumes.

As stated in the title, I had a funny/odd dream. I was finally given a chance to play my zither in concert (a very large concert), but I couldn't, because it wasn't tuned. Talk about depressing! I really need to find someone who can tune instruments. A zither generally looks like THIS, only mine isn't that pretty.

And the scheming mentioned in the title is in reference to the plans the Cowboy and his mom have of going to Eastern Washington tomorrow and picking peaches. I'll probably go with. Loooooooooooooong drive...

Returned from grand adventure!

Well, I wish it was grand adventure. In reality, it's just busy. Which makes for a long post. :)

It started with Saturday. I took m'self into work for the morning. It was a gorgeous day, and when I got off work, I headed out to the Cowboy's for the afternoon. We (along with his friend) headed down to the lake for a while. We were sitting there by the lake having a good time, and then the friend announced that he was bored (I should blog-name this friend "Hyper," I think). He decided we'd go on a walk on a trail he knew by the river. So the three of us went down a deer trail through the woods. Of course, I was the only one with shorts on (arg!) and the blackberries were not very nice. But I survived. Obviously.

After that, with much bruising, bloodying, and so forth, we got back to the lake. When we arrived at the Cowboy's parked truck and went to leave, the truck wouldn't start. The Cowboy was about to be very annoyed, but it turned out that another of his friends who was at the lake had monkeyed with something under the hood and when he plugged it back in, the truck was fine.

And then we all went back to the Cowboy's parents' house to have a bonfire. Ended up staying out there until midnight drinking root beer and talking. Then at midnight, we wished the Cowboy a happy birthday. Most of us left and the Cowboy went home. Since I had an hour drive back to my house, I crashed on his mom's couch.

For sure, Sunday was the Cowboy's birthday. It poured rain all day. I thought it was glorious (see blog title... I have a thing for rain), but everyone else complained.

Monday was also glorious, but it was sunny (aw, rats!). The Cowboy had the day off of work, so he came over and we spent the entire day in the barn working on something. And you don't get to know what it is yet! Hahahaha!

Tuesday was the last day of the Fiber Arts class I teach at the community college. I was sad to see all my students go. They were a lot of fun and I enjoyed getting to know them. After class, I came home and made a big, honkin' piece of felt. You'll see it eventually. I need some yarn and beads to finish the project first.

Ah, yesterday. 5 hours at work as a cashier. By the end of my shift, I could barely walk and couldn't stand still. It was awful. I'm praying fervently that I don't have to stay a cashier for very long. :-/

Which brings us to today! I'm about to visit my goats to milk and then run off to a meeting at a coffee shop in town about the Rosie movie.

***

In between all of that, I've been working on my novel. I'm liking the way it's coming together now. One of my characters is very sick right now, the poor dear. Now that I've mentioned it, I'm dying to get back to my story. But chores first. Chores first... *Cora repeats this phrase over and over...*

There's a Hole in My Bucket, Dear Liza...

There's no real significance behind the song in the title. It just happens to be stuck in my head. By the way, do you know that song? I started singing it while at the Cowboy's house, and they all looked at me like I was mad. I thought everyone knew "There's a Hole in My Bucket."

My "surrogoat" children are growing up. 6 weeks old. Wow. Doesn't seem like that long ago I was down there with the nanny Joanna giving birth to tiny, little Gareth Joraiem and Jerusha Rielle. But the children are reminding me daily of how much they're growing. They destroy their little hay-fort-pen EVERY day. You have no idea how much I can't wait until they're too big to escape the hillside pen and I can get them out of the barn and out of my hair. Literally.

We have a bazillion little calves now. And there will be pictures of various baby creatures at some point so you can "awwwwww" over them.


As a side thought, I took the new kitten out to meet some of the older cats. The Blimp (fat, old, yellow cat) thought kitten was a bit of a novelty and cute. However, my cat Joshua (His Majesty, the .~*Self-Proclaimed Supreme Ruler of the Universe*~.) thought kitten was a shameful offering from his human pets, and please take it away, because I find it offensive and irritating, thankyouverymuch. *sigh* Cats...


In other news, not animal-related, I tried out naalbinding. I got a handle on the basics with yarn and a huge-ish, wooden needle. Now, when Cora learns something, the first thing she does is make it miniature. SO! I've almost finished a fingerless glove that is 1/5" across at the wrist. A little less than a centimeter. Yes, I'm crazy. News #2: I felted myself a belt. News #3: Yesterday, I found 4 yards of some beautiful, brown, high quality wool fabric (plaid) from New York... for $4.00 at a thrift store. Win! :)

One More Cup of Coffee, Please!

I need just one more cup of coffee, and then I'll go down and milk. ;-)

The pot is almost done brewing. Oh, yeah.

I brought my lovely goat cheese to my friends' house yesterday, and all the ladyfolk decided it was divine and so I left them some culture and stuff for it. They shall be making their own very shortly.

But that's not the point of this post. My friends rent a little spot in a local antique store. They sell all sorts of beautiful hand-made things. While at their house, I noticed some hurricane lamps sitting there on the counter with matching little plaid bows and price tags.

They still work, and they were little and cute, and so I bought them and took them home. Now when I have my own house and the power goes out, I will have hurricane lamps to light my house, as they are brighter (and safer) than candles.

My collection of "stuff for my house" is growing. Everyday dishes, pots and pans, casserole dishes, cast iron pans, kitchen utensils, pressure canner, picture frames, books (specifically children's books), blankets, electronics... My parents are ready for me to leave and take my stuff with me. ;-)

I just drank down the last bit of coffee, so I will go attend to my dear goats.

Garage Sale Scavengers: The Plunder

Doesn't that title sound like a great name for an adventure movie? Doesn't it? No? Oh, well... I tried to make it interesting.

Firstly, yesterday we had a birthday party for my dear Grandma, as she turned 80. Friends came over, and we had a lovely lunch and tea. I would post pictures, but I don't like posting pictures of people without their permission. Oh, well... :(

Secondly, as the title of this post suggests, Mom and I went garage sale-ing. It's a Friday tradition for Mom and Dad to go on dates and hit all the garage sales in town. Dad had a volunteer job to get done, so this time, it was me with Mom! Some things we got:

Oh, yeah. My brothers are jealous. $5, and the price tag on this brand new beauty said $40.

Isn't it absolutely gorgeous? I was so thrilled when I saw a pile of them sitting there getting sold. I snatched up one of those puppies in a second! And the best part? Copyright 1969 - before people went though and politically correctified all the hymns. I took pictures of the proof:

Battle Hymn of the Republic. Modern 4th verse: "As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free." See the original word in the picture.

Apparently someone thought it was offensive to suggest that we be willing to die for what we think is right.

Next song. At the Cross. Modern 1st verse: "Would He devote that sacred head for sinners such as I?"

I suppose someone's feelings were hurt at having to admit that they are a worm.

Aaaaaaanyway, moving on... (Can you tell I am against politically correctified hymns?)

The last thing we got:

It's a really pretty set of gold-plated flatware. Mom thought it was a good deal, because if each piece was worth $2, we'd still come out with a smokin' deal. So we got home, and I did some Googling. Each piece sells for upwards of $20. Some even $100. Smokin' deal? Yeah, I think so.

Then I went and took care of my goats and babes. One of the Cowboy's favorite goatlets, Jacen, jumped into a board and broke off his little horn stub. The poor little sweetie... :( I was instructed to put cayenne pepper on to stop the bleeding, so I had Mom bring some down. While we were waiting, the Cowboy carried his poor baby around, petting it and talking to it... I think it was a more traumatic event for the Cowboy rather than the goatlet. Jacen was happy as a clam the whole time.

And now I'm way late on chores, so I must bid you farewell.

God Knows Our Needs... And Gives Us Gallon Glass Jugs

Last week, Grandpa was down at the local plant sale at the Grange Hall selling bazillions of plants. A neighbor called me up to ask if Grandpa might be interested in getting some plant trays that a friend was going to take to the dump. I said I didn't know, but y'all go down to the Grange and ask. So they did!


Now, I know all two of you reading this are thinking to yourself, "Why is Cora telling me about plant trays for her grandpa? I thought she said 'glass jugs' in the title. What's she been smoking?"

Cora is here to tell you that she's only smoked once, and that was when she caught her hair on fire leaning over a candle. Hopefully that will never happen again. She's going to tell you about the jugs! In just a second.


Yesterday, Cora was surveying our stock of jugs to hold milk in. She needed to use some gallon-size to hold a greatly expanding supply of milk, but we only have a few and they're hard to pour out of, because they're just pickle jars with no spout. If you know Cora, you know that spells trouble. So Cora whined and complained to herself and didn't use them. She went over to her grandpa's house to do a little dusting and mopping. On the way, she stopped to look at the new shed her grandpa and The Brain were building. She wandered inside. Lo and behold! ~20 of these!

Gallon size with a handle and pour spout! Lucky day!

Now, if only Cora could borrow some. In the midst of mopping and dusting, she mentioned her dilemma to Grandpa and asked if perhaps she could borrow some. He informed her that he'd no use for ANY of them. They were given to him by some lady who was taking plant trays to the dump and stopped by the plant sale last week to give him the trays ($300 worth of trays, btw).

God was listening to Cora's whining and complaining, and he'd fulfilled her need a week prior! We have such a great and caring Abba.

My New Mission In Life!

I have just discovered the perfect profession for me! Join up with Alvin and the Chipmunks and sing Munk Rock! Because...

According to my family, I look like chipmunk. Looking in the mirror, it looks like I'm holding a watermelon in my mouth. And that's about what it feels like. Ugh. I didn't realize that my face makes a perfect rectangle when it's swollen. Interesting.

Mighty Mike is down milking for me. He's even walking them out to the hillside to graze them. Yesterday, The Brain tried milking. Poor ol' city-boy has never milked before (the other day when he went down, he just bottle-fed the babes; he didn't actually learn to milk). So after about five minutes, we got a phone call from him: "Mom, I can't do it!" So my dear city-mom went down, assessed the situation, and called Grandpa, who finally milked the goats. Needless to say, I did not ask The Brain to milk last night. I asked The Cowboy to. The Cowboy is a fabulous goat dad. After he fed the babies dinner, he took two of them for the mile-long walk to the end of the driveway and back ("Gotta get their little muscles built up!"), then snuggled with the two babies that didn't want to go for the walk. I'm going to give him Jacen and Gary for "lawnmowers," and I'll keep Jerusha. Just in case you wanted to know.

I'm going to go re-heat my rice pudding now...

~Miss. Chipmunk

It's Keeping Me In Stitches!

The wisdom teeth surgery went very well, and I'm in very little pain. Just a bit of swelling, but ice is helping that. Drinking some lovely, warm chicken broth from a mug. Wow. Yum. I love this stuff. Not eating for nearly a whole day helped that, though. My dear mother has made mention of giving me a cherry smoothie soon...

And The Cowboy, Dad, and The Brain are being dears and milking my goats for me.

Love my family and my Cowboy. :)

Monday, Monday...

A few days ago, I dreamed up a brand spankin' new character and developed a story around her. It occurred to me that there are plenty of stories about peasanty girls who suddenly discover that they will be the next princess, so they must learn to adapt to life at court.

So I said to myself, "Self! You should write a book where a princess/other noble lady must adapt herself to life as a peasant nobody."

The main character is one of the "nobodys" that the princess is sent to live with (the nobodys are told that she is there to escape a wave of assassinations in the palace, but really there is a more sinister reason). The baby manuscript is 9 pages long now. We'll see how this turns out. Don't worry... There will be lots of adventure and danger. *rubs hands together*

***

And now a picture for your viewing pleasure. She's a little elf I made out of clay a few years ago.

There's a Snake in My Boot!

Once upon a time
 (about an hour ago)
I pulled up to the gas station
To fill up my truck's tummy.

I stepped out of the truck
(right down into a puddle)
And thought, "My lands!
Methinks a snake has made a home
Inside my tire tread!

The hiss was loud - too loud
(and angry, seems to me.)
I bent down to the awful noise
And found the wretched beast.

Shiny was the awful thing,
(small and silver, too.)
It sat there hissing up at me
And I a mite confused.

For it was no snake inside my tire
(instead, a giant screw)
Embedded in the rubber
And naught there could I do!

I called up my dear papa
(he can fix these things, I know!)
He said to bring it home
For I was not far away.

So I took my poor C-3PO
(that is my lil' truck's name)
Back toward my house,
But on the way...

My eldest brother'd come
(to follow me)
and see me safely home.


Big thanks to my brother, Mighty Mike! :-)

On a side note, the bats in the barn are very much alive and well. :-/

The Writings of Cora

I write for a few purposes:

1. I have stories to tell, and I love to tell them.

2. I want to write stories that people enjoy. Not to teach lessons or have a subliminal message. There is no "And the moral of this story is _____" at the end to convict the reader and make them want to go home and re-think their life. Nope! Just a fun and exciting story. If you get something out of it, bravo for you! If not, I hope you liked the story and the people in it!

3. I've discovered a distinct lack of gripping fantasy novels that have no magic. I've gotten bored with magic, think it's dumb, and it tends to turn dark quickly. It seems like when an author can't possibly think of an explanation or a fix for a plot hole, he says, "Why, it's magic, of course! Didn't you know?" Blech! I was even encouraged to use magic in my stories by one friend because it was an easy excuse. Why do people buy that excuse so willingly? So. No magic. To the trash bin with it! *tosses magic into bin filled with crumpled paper, eraser dust, and pencil shavings* *fixes lid* Ah, that's much better!

4. ON THE OTHER HAND, lack of magic in fantasy is usually a synonym for boring, super-sweet, annoying stories. For example: genre Christian fiction. The main character is practically perfect, though they're allowed 1 flaw, and it's usually pride. Then they have some issue with that flaw, and the whole story takes a melodramatic turn for the worse. After a few pages, the main character says, "What have I done?" and apologizes, repents, and all is good again. Then an older, wiser character comes to the main character to say, "Son, this just goes to show you that nothing good comes of being proud." The authors avoid magic simply to create a super-sweet story that all Christian parents would let their children read. You can only read so many books like that before you can predict the ending after reading the book's first paragraph. Eventually, you have to look for something else. I'm writing that something else.

In my first book, the main character does not have a huge, glaring flaw because it did not fit the story. She does not have a flaw merely for the sake of having a flaw to teach the reader to be a better person. My goal is not to teach lessons on how bad pride, greed, etc. is throughout the story. I am assuming you know that already and don't need me to tell you.

I'm a Christian. I write fiction. I do not write genre Christian fiction. I write fiction from a Christian perspective.


So I am writing to fill the gap I've found in the "epic fantasy" genre. Swords, leathers, cloaks, dungeons, desperate ventures... and characters that are lovable. Or love-to-hateable. :)

All fueled on the power of coffee, M&Ms, and sheer willpower.

........Mostly the M&Ms.....

Cora, Mommy to 4

Just recently, I became mama to 4 little kids. Two sets of twins, in fact! Their names are Jacen and Jaina (someone is a Star Wars geek around here...); and Gareth Joraiem "Super Gary" and Jerusha Rielle. Yes, I name every animal, including the ones that will end up on our plates someday. My animal-naming-style is Sci-Fi/Fantasy Book Character Names With A Flair Of Hebrew Whenever Possible.

Here are some pictures of my adorable babies

Gary and Jerusha just after birth:

Me feeding Jacen, and Gary supervising:

Mom feeding Gary and being pestered by a hungry Jerusha:

The tichel (hair covering) is to keep the smell of goats off my hair, because my hair is a magnet to barn smells. It is not part of my normal attire. :-)

Mawwige

I always thought marriage was inevitable. Whether I was interested or not, I would probably get married. So I might as well take stock of my options, right?

Every eligible bachelor I met after that, I analyzed. I went down a mental checklist.

I took into account his posture - Did he stand straight and tall like he knew who he was and what he was about? Did he slump like he didn't really care about his appearance and was living his life just to "get by"?

Did he carry himself like the man I would respect and honor for the rest of my/his life and be the man I want my sons to be? Did he make himself "available" to young ladies through flattery or flirtation?

I looked at his countenance - Did his face show an active joy? Did it show peace? Or did his face say, "It's all about me, yeah."?

And clothing, too. Did his pants hang down around his knees? Were they full of holes? Did his shirt have writing on it that would shame me? Were they expensive, snobby clothes? Were his shoes those shrimpy little whatchamacallits that are so fashionable these days?

Was he the type who would command and demand my respect and control my every move, or would he earn my respect through caring, love, and devotion, like Paul described to Timothy?

What about language? Were his words "drawing room fashion," as I like to put it?

Did his hands look like they were used to hard work, or were they soft and delicate?

Could I live, work, and sleep next to him every day for the rest of my life? You might think it forward of me to ask that the moment I met a man, but that's what marriage is.

That's a very small sample of my checklist. I set the bar high and would accept nothing less. Truthfully, I thought I'd set it so high that I would never find someone.


***


And... Then one day in late September 2008, while at college... Second day of choir... A young man walked in the room. He'd just switched classes and needed an extra credit to be a full-time student. I went down my checklist from across the room:

He stood straight and tall. His attention remained on the instructor. His face showed the joy and peace of the Lord. He wore work jeans, a long-sleeve, button-up flannel shirt, and work boots. His hands were massive and you could tell they hadn't rested for a day in his life. On and on the list went, and I put a check by each one.

On my way home from school, I said to myself, "Self! I could marry a guy like that." Then another voice answered, "Why don't you marry him?" So I thought about that. All weekend I thought about it. By the next time I saw him, I pretty well knew for sure. Now to actually meet him.

You can't just walk up to a man and say, "Hi, my name is ___, and I'm planning to marry you." Finally, I worked up the nerve to walk up and say hi while we were in the cafeteria (this being the girl who was so shy she had trouble saying "Hi" to acquaintances!). He knew my brother, David, and was around David rather often, so that helped me get to know him in the future.

Two months later, we were fairly certain we'd get married, but my parents had still never met him. I hadn't even discussed him with them. A few months after they did meet, the Cowboy asked Dad if he could "court" me. September 2009, the Cowboy asked for my hand. And now I'm wearing the ring the Cowboy designed (it couldn't be a big ring that would overwhelm my tiny hand or have pokey edges to get caught in my knitting or scratch a baby).

According to every conservative Christian book on courting, we did everything wrong. The woman took initiative to speak to the man. The man did not go to her father first. Neither met each other's parents. They never had chaperons as their parents trusted their judgment implicitly.

So that is how I came to be engaged to my best friend, high school sweetheart that I met in college, and my first love after Christ.

God works in odd ways sometimes. You have to be able to distinguish His voice from what you believe from the books you've read. Trust Him fully. You trusted Him to save you from eternal death! Trust Him to find your spouse!

This is Who I Am

I was sitting here with my bowl of grits, deciding what to blog about. I've met two new friends in the past day (Anna and Cora Beth), and I realized that they didn't follow The Punmaster's Palace when I blogged over there.

So a little more about me. I say I'm the 6th of 7 boys. A little humor there. I have three brothers, but throughout my life, young men have lived with us and become like brothers to me. Having almost solely male companionship my entire life has given me an odd outlook on life. How many other girls do you know who think a heartfelt, romantic gift is a new shotgun?

I'm engaged to a man I've known for a little over a year, and that is a story that people either find fascinating or creepy when they hear it. It's a little long, so I'll not write about it here. I call him the Cowboy.

I do work outside the home, by request of my parents. I look forward to one day being a stay-at-home mother. I was homeschooled from day 1 until 10th grade (then started college). I want to continue that winning streak when I have munchkins. :-P Fortunately, the Cowboy also has those dreams (though he was public schooled from day 1 and had a full-time employed mother).

By request of my father, I do not wear skirts, save on special occasions. Because of my code of modesty, I actually wear men's clothing. If you'd like me to elaborate, I can. :)

I'm a college graduate now, and live with my peeps (immediate family and grandparents) on a farm. Grandpa raises cows, I keep two milk goats and two barncats, and the rest of my family have a worthless mutt (not a dog person, here) and a cat who is known as the Blimp. If you saw him, you'd understand. We have a huge garden and feed nearly everyone in my valley.

I love Star Wars, hate Jane Austen, love brussels sprouts, and hate bananas.

And that is me. Well... a little. I didn't even mention costumry, tatting, knife collecting, sewing, writing, knitting, gaming (yes, I'm a gamer! I got to level 10 in Tetris! Wow, that was epic... Maybe I'm not a gamer), weaving, sniper movies, dyeing cloth, and... um... yeah. There's a lot in my head.