The Value of a Good Book

And not just a good book. But a really really good book.

A good book can be defined in many different ways by many different people. It doesn't have to be a book, either. To some, it can be as simple as a daily magazine. For others, it needs to be a super complex read that makes their mind work.

My dad instilled in me a deep love of reading. When we were young, he would sit up with my little sister and I and he would read us a story every night before we went to sleep. Soon we moved onto us reading bits and pieces. And eventually, I started reading on my own. Every night before I went to bed, I would stay up too long past my bed time, completely immersed in whatever book I was reading. I think back then I was addicted to the 'Thouroughbred' series. And it never ended because Mrs. Campbell just kept on writing them. Well over 50 books to the one series if my memory serves.

When I was in 8th grade I remember I had detention. Again. I loved to read, but I hated doing homework. Nor do I enjoy reading things that I have no interest in. My eyes read but my mind doesn't process the information. It's useless to me. But in 8th grade, I was stuck after school in this detention room. My homework was done. Sleeping wasn't an option. I had no book with me to pass the time. Detention was never a punishment for me because I would spend the time reading my books. Detention mearly provided me a quiet place to do so. (Parents: This is the reason that detention never phased me, or taught me any lessons. Just so we're clear)

I distinctly remember that I didn't have a book with me because I was 'between reads', meaning I had just finished my most recent book over lunch and hadn't started another. I glanced over and spotted a small bookshelf with a handful of novels. I picked through them, thinking I could find one that would suit me for the remaining hour, and found an extremely thick novel and on the scarred cover was a beautiful illustration of a field with horses in the distance, and a little cottage on a hill, and 3 woman with their arms around each other, looking in to the vast skyscape. They had me with the horses of course. It was titled "Montana Sky".
And so began my passion for Nora Roberts and her writing.

A co-worker of mine walked up to me today. She had seen the 965 page book that was sticking out of my purse and said "Are you reading that thing voluntarily?" I responded to her "This is the 3rd time I've read it!"

Throughout my whole life I have turned to reading as a source of comfort and calm. Usually it's Nora Roberts, but there are many other great authors I enjoy as well. I do become a little miffed when I finish a book and have to start over with a new one, which will introduce new characters and new places. With the speed at which I read, I don't like having to keep 'moving around'. So I started sticking with trilogies. NR's trilogies often have 3 or more people who are connected, and each book will tell each individual's tale, yet it keeps the people and the places together, so it's more like reading one really long story, just focusing on different people.

As I've grown older, I've begun to recognize how stress and anxieties affect me. I have some above average anxiety issues and I realize this now. People deal with anxiety in different ways. Drugs. Food. Alcohol. Work. Promiscuity. Anger. Depression.

I choose to read. It allows me to escape into another world where I don't have to worry about anything but flipping the page. Where for just that period of time, I don't really feel my own pain because I can revel in the joys and trials of the charactars in my book. And when I come up again, I am calmer and more reasonable. I can analyze things in a slower fashion and come back with a better result for me.

It's not about learning new things, at least not for me. It's not about reading as many books as I can, proven by the fact that most of the books I own I have read 3+ times. And because I have already read many of them, when the mood strikes to start another book, I can choose based on my moods. If I'm feeling broody, for instance, I can pick up one of her Irish pieces and know just where it will take me.

There is great value in a good book.
It's benefits are not to be underestimated.

Independance Day

Happy July the Fourth my friends!

Who Knows

I'm kind of a blogger loser lately.

It's not that I don't have anything to write about. In fact, I have much to write about.

But then when I want to sit down to do it, I feel like I have too much else to do to write.

But then I go and watch Monster Quest or some such nonsense like that.

So really, I'm not too busy. I'm just lazy. Right? Who knows.

Last night was the first time that I've worked out in almost a week. Like really, seriously put my nose to the grinder and dug into the Arc Trainer. It felt good. And I'm going again tonight just to prove something.

I don't know what it is exactly that I'm trying to prove yet. But when I find out, I'll let ya know. Who knows.

This weekend is already our Independance Day festivities. You will recall last years events. Hopefully I'm not as hungover this year. But looking back on last years posting, I can't believe that year has already flown by. What have I accomplished in the past year? Anything? Who knows.

What do you call this upcoming holiday? Mind if I ask? I have noticed myself getting unnecessarily irritated by people calling it 'The 4th of July' rather then what it is, Independance Day. I mean, we don't call Christmas 'The 25th of December' do we? Anybody? But then you'll notice that I called last years posting '4th of July recap'. Whats up with that?

But why am I even bothered by such a thing? Who knows.

I was finally able to shampoo our carpets on Monday. I had the day off. Feels good to have a clean carpet again. We have no foster dogs currently. Life has been easy with just my own animals. I almost forgot what that kind of peace was like. It's also mildly, okay really, boring. Cj was telling me that in order to completely stop rescue, I have to go through the withdrawls, just like any addiction, to get it out of my system. Will it work? Who knows.

Frankie and I entered our first real disc dog competition last weekend. She got first place in the novice division of Distance and Accuracy, which is me tossing and her catching. I was greatly proud of her and now I'm stoked for the next comp. It helped my nerves as well. I was shaking every time I threw that disc.
The second day of the comp, we entered the open division and choked. It was my fault though. I wasn't paying attention to the changing wind and once the disc left my hand, it got caught and veered off the field. But we did our best and had a blast anyways! Would we have done better if I had payed more attention? Who knows.

But really, all in all, life is pretty good right now. We are having fun and enjoying life as it comes. My stressors seem to be taking days off, which helps immensley. Maybe that's why I'm so lazy these days. Who knows.

But who cares? When life is good, let it be.

Furious Beauty Part II

The evening started out to be your average night for us. Red and I went to the Q for dinner along with his family. Had a burger and a couple of beers and talked about fishing and farming and the weather.

The sirens began to blair. The tornado sirens that is. But it was only raining and the sky didn't look dangerous, so we returned to our table and finished up.

The rain went from a drizzle to a soak on our short 4 minute drive home. The sirens were still howling. We ran inside and turned on the weather channel.

Big, ugly, dark red splotches were making their way towards us. By this time, it was hailing pea size chunks, and the storm was still a half an hour away from our little town.

We continued to watch the weather. Fifteen minutes before the storm was called to hit, the hail got bigger. It was about this time that I started biting my nails and pacing. Should I put the animals in the basement? Or is that too drastic yet at this time? It might not even hit us. But what if it does? What if it hits and I haven't put the animals downstairs? There won't be time!

Visions of the dogs and the cat, wandering around outside in a torn apart town, injured and scared and shivering swept into my mind. Sure, they all had tags on and could be returned if found by a good samaritan. But what if somebody saw them all wet and frayed, approaching for some food, and they got the wrong message and shot them?! Oh no!

Then I calmed myself again. It would be fine. The dogs would be fine. Even if something did happen to where they were running loose outside, they would survive a while. They were all initially strays afterall, right? They still had street skills to call upon. The cat however... Well, he would just die if he found himself without his recliner.

I paced one more time to the window and saw the yard was mildly starting to collect pools of water. Then a golf ball size chunk of ice fell from the sky and smacked the window sill. The trees started flapping wildly. It was time to start preparing for the worst.

I ran through the hail and the puddles to the garage to collect crates. I hauled them downstairs and one by one starting herding dogs down. Syl the cat had to be crated as well. He did not appreciate my concern though, and put up a big, nasty fuss.

Regal cats should not be crated.

Suddenly, the skies cleared. The storm was passing. Well, one of them. Turns out there were almost a half dozen large storm cells in the area. They called this one a 'super cell'.

I let the animals up, feeling only mildly dumb for panicking to the point of locking up 5 animals in the dungeon that is our basement. I should point out that I grew up in a house where, when the tornado sirens blasted, my parents couldn't be further apart. My dad would be uber calm, strolling to get his camera and stepping out onto the deck to take photos while a tornado all but came down upon him. While my mom would be histerically grabbing cats and the rabbit and trying to herd the family into the basement on a whirlwind of sheer panic.

I fall somewhere in between the two. Unsure whether to curl up into a ball in the closet or stand my ground and take photos.


Anyways, then the power went out.

But the skies looked fine, and we went outside to assess the damage. There wasnt any, not really. Just a lot of water. Since the town didn't have power, pretty much everybody stepped outside to converse about the weather. I grabbed my camera and Red and I headed out to find some food and get some gas.

We pulled up to the gas station, which also had no power. And no generator apparently. The employees were standing outside. Nothing they could do for the moment. Their parking lot was flooded though.



Since we couldn't do anything but talk, we jumped back into the truck and headed out to get some photos before the storm passed completely.





It appeared that we had missed it for the most part, and there was nothing to panic about.

I pointed my camera strait up for one last photo. New clouds.



But then the winds changed. The storm that had been moving strait east in a very predictable path suddenly shifted. I felt the chill. And I watched, frozen in awe, as a brand new storm approached. I had been pointing my camera east, to catch the last of the storm that had just passed, without thinking to look to the northwest. We had seen this particular storm on the radar before the power went out. But it hadn't projected to come anywhere near us.

Suddenly the sirens threw out their 3rd wail of the night. But we couldn't move. In my head, logic was screaming at me to jump into the truck and flee. This was no time for silly schinanigans like photography.

Let me take a moment here to share with those of you who don't know me that I am kind of a spaz. I panic easily, and I'm a generally anxious person all of the time. If there is even a chance for danger or fear, I am a flight person.

Dark and dangerous clouds began descending upon us. Even as the hole whooshed up and the outter clouds began to smooth and turn black and green, we couldn't stop watching. A state trooper pulled up next to us and got out of his Charger to watch. Others pulled up as well. Sometimes fear gets tucked away when you are faced with something so beautiful and horrendous. Jaws dropped, one by one.

There does come a time when reality kicks back in and makes you move like you have never moved before. When the clouds began their slow rotation and lowering upon us, people snapped back and fled. Red and I jumped into our truck and dashed home. I repeated the ritual of shoving animals into crates in the basement and huddled on the bottom basement step while Red watched the window at the top of the steps. The power was not yet on and by now it was 9pm and dark. The rain and hail returned briefly, along with some wind.

We got lucky. We just got the show. The town just a few miles south of us got the tornado and a whole lot of damage. But luckily, nobody was seriously hurt.

When I went back last night to upload these photos and save them to my computer, my stomach churned. I'm not the storm chaser type. I always wanted to be a storm chaser. But I'm way too much of a weenie for such things. I should not have stood there taking photos while this monster thundered down on us. Dad, I blame you for having the guts to stand down a friggin tornado just to get these shots.

The irony here is that just that morning, radio hosts were going on about how we had had a rather timid, mild spring.

Way to jinx it, guys.

Furious Beauty

Nature is one of the most beautiful of life's angles.

It is also is one of the most dangerous.

It can be heartwrenchingly gorgeous and furiously wicked, all at the same time.

It is probably where the word awesome came from.

We barely missed a very dangerous storm last night. Photos and the whole story will come this evening.

But here is a preview of what's to come.

Wedding Bells

I want to marry my fiance already. We have been engaged now for over 3 years. Over three years. Upon his proposal, we briefly discussed the timing of the wedding and we both agreed that 2 years out would be perfect. At the time, Red and I had been together for 2 years. 2 years of engagement would ensure that we were making the right decision, etc etc etc.

Let me explain something to you. When a girl is first engaged, of course thoughts of a gorgeous white dress and flowers and a huge wedding cake and handfuls of confetti are the first ones to cross her mind. As soon as she says 'yes' she is taken on a whirlwind of romance and beauty and love. Couples who do it traditionally are married within 9 to 12 months of their engagement. Thus that whirlwind of the excitement of getting married will carry them through the arrangements and stress until the day finally comes.

In other words: It keeps the momentum going steadily.

And while deep inside I wanted to just ride that wind for a year, I knew that realistically, doing the right thing and waiting 2 years was the best path to take.

It also deflated my wind. There has been no momentum. When you know that there won't be a wedding for 2 years, you really can't plan. Anything. At all.

Time passed. 1 year. I should have started planning. And in fact, we did start planning. We even set a date and paid for the reception venue. But that was axed as soon as we found out that Red's cousin already had that same day for his own wedding. It was another pin to my balloon. 2 years passed. Still nothing. Now its been 3 years and 1 month.

This weekend, as I previously wrote, I spent the time cleaning the house and watching fairy tale romance movies. Then I watched a Bridezilla's marathon. It really ramped up my drive to get married. (Except I don't understand why the men in Bridezilla's marry the women in Bridezilla's. Those girls are so mean to their men! It was unbelieveable!)

I'm going to marry Red, dammit. And it's going to be romantic! We already act like we've been married forever. We know each other better then we know ourselves. And I'm going to wear a pretty white dress.

But I need something to start blowing the wind. Whirlwind, where are you?

How the hell do you plan a wedding?

I'm Gonna Hurt the Motorcycles

It's a lovely Saturday afternoon. Early afternoon. The sun is shining, it's not too hot out. I am making a last ditch attempt to really scrub out the bedroom and throw away or donate clothes that I won't wear anymore.

Thank you, genes, for my packrat mentality.

I have the windows open to air out a week's worth of raining, stuffed up days.

My chick flicks have been playing all morning. I love Julia Robert's movies. Currently, My Best Friend's Wedding is on. And during my favorite part of the movie that I have seen no less than 48 times, something happens. Something that has gotten my blood boiling since it's now the 14th time it's happened this this morning.

The flippin' packs of motorcycles keep flying by my house!

SHUT UP! You don't need to rev your engines right in front of my home. You don't need to rattle by in groups of 35. What you do need is to find a new road to ride on, or respect the fact that you are still in town when you ride past my house! A road that is currently under construction and a danger to you if you don't knock it ooooooooff!

Yes, I do feel better. Thank you for asking.