Sometimes I miss the suburbs.

Nearby beautiful but lonesome country road.

We were deep into our cold morning power-walk on Saturday when Jason noticed that I was wearing my bright white Oregon Ducks hat. He stopped dead in the middle of the frosty street to question my sanity in such a choice. It makes me look tan. That was the only stuttering reason I could produce.

Mr. Brodes is warmed by his
 hospital hot water bottle.

     Who knew that it was the first day of gun hunting season and that the forest surrounding us was packed with odorless camouflaged hunters scanning the thickets for a glimmer of WHITE?! I thought deer were brown, or tan, or burnt sienna. I kept walking, then stopped because Jason had muttered under his breath that I had a high probability of being shot with that hat, then decided to press on anyway hunters be d*mned, then opted to shout "Don't shoot!" at random intervals as a precaution. The muttering continued, and I noticed Jason was genuinely agitated and on the alert. So I had a little screaming melt-down in the middle of the stupid, frosty, deserted, hunter-infested country lane. Jason took his orange hat off to correct my ridiculous wardrobe choice (he was pretty much head to toe covered in precautionary colors), told me to stop crying, and continued on.
     Sometimes I miss the suburbs so much!!!!! I've spent the week thinking that Better Homes and Gardens and Country Living Magazine got into my head and made me ruin my life. I've been a West-Coast, city girl, Yankee forever. I'm tired of Wal-Mart and trees and hospitality and southern accents and potholes and fresh air and quietude. I should be able to go for a walk without fearing accidental death by deer rifle.
     I went to bed longing with all my heart for Target, and traffic, and the busy subliminal soundscape comprised of neighbors and vehicles and airplanes and things that signal to my brain that I'm where I belong in the world. The quiet beauty of my neighborhood road makes me feel lost. But when I had Target right down the road I didn't care about it, and wished I had a more simple life surrounded by trees and hospitality. I have a vision for my little family, and I feel that we're on the right track with this move and that I'm just homesick. Anyone else ever go through this? How long did it take you to feel really at home in a completely unfamiliar new place?

My old stomping grounds with neighbors all around.

Sometimes it's ok to quit.

Last summer our spunky 12-year-old almost lost her life to the desert heat. Worst experience our family has ever survived for obvious reasons, and in fact it's hard to think about even long enough to type this post. I'm sure I still need therapy. We were blessed with strangers who kept her cells alive with their skilled knowledge of CPR, paramedics who acted quickly, and the hand of God touching her little body with the breath of life. Jason and I spent a week in the ICU while sweet Brynna fought for life after being cooked in the hot sand under the scorching July sun, lost on a bike that she was supposedly riding up to the next cul-de-sac. 

   

 Here's the link to her story if you want to be depressed with me: 

http://www.azfamily.com/news/local/Girl-almost-dies-of-heat-stroke-on-hottest-day-of-the-year-162826986.html

    I was so overwhelmingly happy that she was alive! And that's how I got swindled into buying kittens. One day her tiny voice quiveringly asked from the hospital bed, "Mommy, if I'm ok and don't die, can I have two kittens when I get home?" She was so tiny, so frail, a sunburned jumble of skinny legs and arms sprinkled with golden freckles and topped with a messy blonde bun, a tangle of IV's and monitors cocooning her. 

    I know that lots of people love cats, and I love to visit their cats. But I had childhood asthma and can't breathe within a mile of a cat, and I was preparing for surgery too and had a long road ahead of me that Fall. But, oh the cute freckles, and the heart monitors! Who could say no?

"Princess Buttercup."

    Thus we bought two kittens from an animal adoption agency a few weeks later. They were so sweet, so fluffy, so huggable. Kittens really are delightful...when you aren't on narcotics recovering from a month of hospitalization while raising 4 kids in a new house with white carpet and a litter box that must have been doused in kitten repellant, a lot of it. My life came to be literally ruled by walking fluff balls full of pee (and poo). (and barf). I would wait for my painkillers to kick in in the mornings so I could drag myself into the living room and see how many piles of kitty compost there were. It was hard to bend over because of my fresh abdominal scars, so I would grab a bucket and my cleaning supplies, snap on rubber gloves, press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I would scrub and cry and sometimes even say borderline bad words in my head, and think to myself that those kitties were the straw that was breaking the camel's back. But Brynna loved them! She always wanted kitties! We had pledged to the animal adoption people that we would love and support their sweet kittens for life, and I believe in commitment, and we are a responsible family and it wouldn't be a good example of endurance or dedication if I drove them back to the shelter after a few short weeks. Have you ever read a book entitled "Just Quit"? No, of course not. Neither have I.

     But may I be the first to tell you that sometimes it's ok to quit. We take on so many extra responsibilities, and there's no reason to let them to negate our happiness. Those cute kitties were two things too many in my life, and I had to recognize that I had done my best and it was time to STOP. They sold on Craigslist the minute I posted these fluffy pictures. I did have a mini panic attack when my husband told me later that the couple who came to get them looked like COLLEGE KIDS driving a ratty sedan who said they didn't know what probiotics were or where to buy organic kitty food or raw goat milk, but they showed great excitement about the cuteness of Brynna's soon to be ex-kittens. I never regretted that bold decision to sell the kitties. Life looked better the next day. Be brave enough to know when to quit. 

Brynna got to keep the money and a month's worth of memories.