Silence

Last night, I was standing outside on my lawn at 3am - puppy on the end of a leash, the lawn crunchy with frost under our feet.  Standing there quietly, sleep quickly leaving me (for at least another hour, but that's another story involving children and not dogs), as I waited patiently for my dog to do his business. I noticed something.

Silence.

I don't mean it was quiet out, I mean it was silent. Not. A. Single. Sound. Silence.  Which is weird because we live so close to the highway; there's normally traffic noise, even at that late hour.

Silence is something I don't often here. The hum of the refrigerator, the drone, of the TV,  little children chattering in the other room...  my life is full of sound. But last night it all stopped for just a moment - it was as eerie as it was beautiful.

Then, in the distance, an owl hooted softly.
The dog finished his business and started sniffing through the leaves.
The furnace kicked on.

And just like that, the silence was gone.

I wonder if anyone else heard it?

You're still here?

I stopped by my Google Analytic page a few minutes ago and noticed that people are still checking this blog on a regular basis.  To which I thought to myself, 'why is anyone even bothering anymore??'

I suspect that the daily visitor is my husband.  He does it out of habit - you know, just to make sure I'm not up to any funny business.  Thing is, the funny business gets posted on Facebook, not here, Silly Head.  :)

So, since I'm here... what's new?

Well, beekeeping didn't go quite as p-  well, it just didn't go.  It sounds like such a romantic idea - all that nature, and outside, and making sweet sweet honey.  But truth is, it's hard freaking work!  And did you know that it's hot outside in July??  Like, really hot.  And then life with two little kids started getting in the way, and it's really hard to get to know how to do something well when you only show up once in awhile.  So anyway, I'm happy letting Dave be the beekeeper.  In the meantime, I'm trying to market it, or something.  Someone's gotta sell it I guess.  www.harrisonhoney.com

Puppy!  Long story short, I had a puppy fall on my lap and, in a moment of weakness, Dave didn't say no to keeping it.  I'm sure he's regretting that now, but, too late!  In a lot of ways, the puppy is a giant pain.  But also, in a lot of ways, this puppy is the best behaved puppy I've ever shared a house with.  I'm confident that he'll, eventually, be a really good dog.  Plus, girl child is in love with him.

Anyhue, that should keep you coming back regularly for another few months. 

Until next time...

A note from the universe

Today was money counting day at work.  It's my job, with a team of volunteers, to process the weekly church collections.  I've been counting these collections for 16 years.  We count for 8 churches, so there's a bit of money that gets processed.  I figure I've helped process somewhere in the neighbourhood of $7.5 million in my time here!

Today I was opening envelopes like I always do.  I pulled out a $5 bill, carefully smoothed out the creases to set it down, and noticed something scrawled on it in red permanent marker.

"Amy give back"

No, seriously, out of the possible 600 envelopes that I could have opened this morning, of 150 $5 bills that we shuffled through, I just happened to pick the one that said, "Amy give back".

Coincidence?  Yeah, probably.  I could certainly push it off as just that - a random, meaningless, coincidence.  There are plenty of 'Amy's' in the world; I'm sure that the author of the note had intended it for someone other than myself.  Coincidences happen all the time, and they're just that, coincidences.

But here's the thing, it's just one more thing to pile on top of the things that have been lingering in the shadows, waiting for me to act.

The tired Sunday School teachers who have been burning through the last of their energy trying to give a lesson to a bunch of kids who'd rather not be there, while I sit there with a head full of camp songs that could spark some life back into things.

Amy give back.

The increasingly 'missional' sermons being preached from the pulpit.  The messages that resound with 'we are the hands of God; go, do.  Be the light in the community.'

Amy give back.

The local playground where my kids love to play.  With it's run down toys and burned out committee that's out of ideas for fundraisers and has lost touch with how to get the community involved.

Amy give back.

The people who come to the door at work looking for groceries and someone to listen to their story.

Amy give back.

The local emergency housing program that advocates for, and supports the homeless within our community.

Amy give back.

The local soup kitchen that has lit a spark within the community to make sure that everyone has access to a hot meal 5 days a week.

Amy give back.


My kid who loves to play t-ball but isn't old enough to play on an organized team.  All the other kids and parents in the neighbourhood whom we haven't even met.

Amy give back.

All the local farmers, and producers, and entrepreneurs who are trying to  eek out a living selling their wares at farmers markets that I never attend.

Amy give back.

The entire idea of 'Third Place' where people long for, and need, and thrive, with not just two places in their lives (work and home), but also a third place where they can be social and find community.

Amy give back.

The horrible, horrible, horrible shootings and attacks that have been taken out on innocent, beautiful, loving people, that have left me frozen; unknowing what to do, how to respond, what to say, or how to comfort.

Amy give back.


It all points in one direction: building community.  Love your neighbour.
It's so easy to say 'I don't have time for that.' 'My life is too busy.' 'Not right now.'

I don't know...  I woke up the morning of my 36th birthday and noticed for the first time just how many grey hairs are starting to highlight my head; maybe this is my midlife crisis.  Maybe I'm starting to feel the need to make an impact.  Maybe I don't want to waste my time doing meaningless things.  Maybe I'm just hungry for community and a better sense of self.

All I really know is that if I wait for opportunity to come to me, I'll be long dead before I ever make an impact.  It's now or never; it's time to stop saying 'no', it's time to be involved, to start something.

Amy give back.

Clickity Clack

Way back when Dave and I were first dating, he helped me purchase a laptop.  It was a good machine; purchased refurbished, it had a lot of bells and whistles on it that I normally would have gone without.

I got a lot of mileage out of that machine; carried it a lot of places, did a lot of computer-y stuff on it.  But at some point along the way, I realised that my life no longer warrants a laptop.  As my life has become more rooted to one place, my laptop has spent more and more time sitting in one place.

So when the kids started pulling keys off it, and Microsoft started insisting on Windows 10 upgrades that it couldn't handle, and the battery charged it's last charge, I didn't replace it with a new laptop.  Rather, I set up Dave's old desktop in the corner of the living room, ...and secretly (read: loudly) wished for a tablet for Christmas!

The desktop does the heavy duty work - photo and video editing, spreadsheet and bookkeeping work.  And the tablet does the stuff I like to do in front of the tv - namely, facebook.  And catching up on the news, reading blogs, playing apps, taking pics of my kids, and reading books.

And now, I can add blogging to that list!  As a birthday gift I received a handy dandy bluetooth keyboard that magnets itself right into my tablet case.  It's taking a bit of time to get used to the new, much smaller, layout, but it's still lightyears faster than writing with a touchscreen!  First blog entry seemed to go well anyway.

Two years

Today marks the 2nd anniversary of the day that I evicted my second-born child from, well, myself.

It was horrendously unpleasant, came with a pelvic separation that took my breath away mid-contraction (as if those weren't painful enough already), and left me getting stitches, with no freezing, in places where stitches aren't meant to go.

So why is it that she gets all the presents and I'm left to bake a cake??

Happy Birthday child.  I'd do it all over again for you.  (Not for anyone else, but for you.)

Internship

So... changes at work.

Basically, this past year has been hell on wheels for my co-workers and I.  Which is saying something, since I work for a church....

Long and short of it is, I've found myself with an extra day of freedom each week.  My hours have been cut and I no longer work Mondays.

After the initial shock of this decision, and the worry about whether or not we'd still be able to make mortgage payments, or feed our kids, or, you know, 10,000 other financial repercussions... We realized that, once we sell our eldest to the circus - oh, wait, he doesn't really care for animals - Once we sell our YOUNGEST to the circus, all will be well.

No really, it's been an incredible kick in the pants, and has made work quite stressful for all involved, but, I'm taking it as an opportunity to get to do something that I thought I'd never have time to do.

You see... my husband seems to think that beekeeping is, well, the bees knees, and we'd really like to make a go of it - eventually.  Make it something a little more substantial than the hobby it is right now.  Problem is, I know literally nothing about beekeeping.  And with two little kids, and full time job, I couldn't see myself actually being able to get into it myself for years.  Forever the beekeeper's wife, never the beekeeper!

But, Hark!  An opportunity has presented itself!  I'm now free on Mondays.  Let the beekeeping begin! For I have gone to our most trusted beekeeper friend, thrown myself at her feet, and begged her, 'Oh wise one, teach me! For I will be your unpaid intern for as long as I am so inept at beekeeping that I don't know which way to hold a bee to milk out it's sweet, sweet honey!'

And she was like, 'Yeah, I'm not paying you anything, ya noob, but you're welcome to come hang out with us whenever you want.'

So there you have it!  You won't find me a work on Mondays anymore, but you will find me all suited up and standing around in a bee yard trying to not get stung. 

So far, they don't even have enough trust in me to let me into a bee suit, let alone a bee yard - but I'm pro-star at putting together frames now!

Check Marked

SOMEBODY, I'll not name any names (but she's my husband's sister and lives down the road from me), decided that it would be a great incentive for her kids if she were to give them check marks when they did chores, and then reward them with prizes when they get so many check marks.

You know... it's fine; sometimes a kid requires some incentive to get off his butt and do something.  I wasn't particularly interested in setting up a check mark system for my own kids.  For starters, they hardly seem old enough to take chores seriously; and then there was the part where it seemed like a lot of work for me to keep track of a points/rewards scheme, and it looked like it was going to cost me some money.  For toys.  That my kids don't need.

No check marks; not in this house.

And then it happened: my kid saw my sister-in-law's kids earn check marks.  And they were excited.  And then the reward toys appeared.  And they were even more excited.

Now, my son has spent the past week randomly awarding himself his own check marks for doing helpful things around the house.  One day he awarded himself a check mark for every. single. toy. he put back into the toy box - there had to have been 30 toys laying around!  Luckily, he immediately cashed in those fictitious check marks for a kiss from mom.  Yesterday, he got out a piece of paper and started keeping track of his own check marks - things are getting serious.

But as much as I've tried to downplay the whole check mark system, by ignoring it entirely, his desire to collect them hasn't subsided.  In fact, he's been asking to go to his cousins' house to earn check marks there!  They get actual toys for their check marks, not just kisses.

Fine, Kid.  That's the way you want to do things, check marks it is!  But we're working on my terms, Buddy.

1 check mark for doing what you're asked around the house.
10 check marks = 1 Mom Buck
You must save your Mom Bucks until you have enough to purchase your next awesome toy.


Now we've got a handy little check mark chart up on the fridge, and a wad of paper Mom Bucks sitting on a shelf  waiting to be earned.  And... a ridiculously eager 3 year old who did everything last night from feeding the cat, to cleaning his room, to eating his vegetables without complaining, all for a bunch of silly check marks.

I have my doubts that it'll last more than a few weeks - once the excitement for new check marks wears off....  But for now, I'm willing to work with it - after all, he did eat his vegetables without screaming!

Volen-told

So I've found myself in the position of being the (un)lucky new treasurer at my church.  Because, well, you know, the 88 year old guy currently doing it can barely hold his hand steady long enough to write a legible cheque. And, hey, I do it for a living anyway, so obviously I want to do it in my spare time too, right?  yeah....

Bitter?  Nooooo... I mean, once I get home from work at night, make supper, do a bunch of household chores, spend a few hours keeping my kids from killing each other, and then another couple of hours trying to convince them that they want to go to bed, I've got all the time in the world!  I'm so happy to take on the burden of this life-long sentence! 

Nope, no bitterness here.  Not even when they didn't bother to offer me any sort of monetary incentive.  A slap on the back, a 'thanks for taking over', now, let's talk about raising the organist's pay.

*sigh*

It's alright.  At the rate they're dropping, there won't be enough money left in 5 years to keep the doors open anyway.

wait.

shit.

Jesus, this is my purgatory, isn't it??