Summer may be over, and there may be 7 inches of snow on the ground… but I am still weeding.

The past four weeks, I have been accused of some pretty interesting stuff. From being called crazy, telling me that I have a few connections loose, or even insinuating that I slacked off on a position that I have just because I chose to do something for me (briefly) for a change. For a moment, I blamed myself. I was trying to justify the actions of insecure people who feel its better to judge than to try to understand. Every time someone laid into me, I blamed myself. The beautiful thing about sensitive people is that we actually care how we make others feel or where we did wrong.

My loved ones and confidants told me to consider the source. So I did. I wrote out every single issue that I had and everything that seemed wrong with my relationship with that particular person. I wrote out all the issues they had with me (that I knew of), or previous times things didn’t seem right. In all of these people, I realized, not one truly knew who I was, or even gave a lick of care about what was healthy for me, instead they accused on what seemed right to them.

The sad thing is, for a moment I regreted all the times that I helped others out. How what you have given or how taxing it is on you becomes quickly forgotten the moment you decide you can’t give them anything at the moment. There is nothing right about this. There is nothing logical about this. The ending result only can be one of two options: Allow it to continue to happen, or weed through your garden of relationships and discard the ones that bring you nothing but trouble.

I hate weeding.

To them I say, thank you for helping me realize that I can do a better service elsewhere.

To them I say, you are forgiven, but you are not welcome anymore.

“All the adversity I’ve had in my life, all of my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me. You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.” ~ Walt Disney

Every afternoon, Sasha and I have a routine.

While I’m working, she sits on the sofa in the living room and looks out the window, where she can make sure all is well with the world and still is able to maintain a visual of me at the same time.

Sometimes our female cat, Nemo, joins her.

Look at mommy!!!

……… they make me happy.

Today I’m a little nervous as I have a doctor appointment and there may be some cuttin… its minor, but still. In an effort to entertain myself before its time to go I went to this website: www.yearbookyourself.com. It hasn’t been pretty. But, if you knew me then, this is what I would look like in the year:

1950

1958

 1964

1968

 1972

 1974

 1978

 1980 (year I was born)

 1994

And finally, 1996

People are really trying to save their pennies nowadays. I’m a bargain hunter, and will go to three different grocery stores to find the best deals. It’s sort of a game for me, and it’s a little fun.

So, I thought I would put up something I recently started doing that makes a world of difference in savings in our household. It may be a little hillbilly of me, so I give you permission (this time only) to call me HillBilly Dee.

Today, I’m going to teach you how to make your own laundry soap. Now before you gasp in utter disbelief and shock, hear me out. Your clothes will be clean. I promise you they will come out smelling differently than when they went in.

As Suze Orman says, “Show Me The Money!!!“… I shall.

In my household we do about 5 loads of laundry a week. Tide runs $15.41 per 32 loads of liquid detergent.

Using Tide, it would cost us $2.40 a week, $9.60 a month, and $115.20 a year. Although its not THAT bad, but remember that’s just your detergent. That doesn’t take into account your Snuggle dryer sheets or your favorite Lavender Heaven fabric softener. Or your Spray in Go. Or Bleach. I would add it all up for you for shock affect, but I’d rather put my head in a blender than do anymore math than I have to.

Using HillBilly Dee’s Laundry Punch, it costs 5 cents a load. Yes, I said that right. Five cents. For a week, it costs us 25 cents. For a month, it costs us $1. For a year, it costs us $12-13 dollars. That is a yearly savings of $102.20. What could you do with that much money? Well, that is a months worth of insurance. Or 102 items at the dollar store. Or a quarter tank of gas. Or 102 double cheeseburgers from McDonalds. Ten bags of dog food. Enough to pay someone to chase a shrew out of your garage.. and it may even be more than what your bank pays you in interest a year. That’s a movie AND popcorn.

Let’s get started…

Ingredients:

1 Bar of Soap (any kind, some people prefer Ivory)

1 ½ cups Borax

1 ½ cups Washing Soda (not baking soda!)

Water

Bucket

Storage container (old laundry detergent bottle works great)

Essential Oils (optional)

1. Dust off your grater and grate your soap. Doesn’t matter which side you use, just get it graded. When your husband walks by as your grating soap, tell him it’s a new casserole you’d like to try and watch him offer to take you out to dinner instead.

2. Put the grated soap and 6 cups of water in a saucepan and put on the stove over medium heat. DO NOT LEAVE! The purpose of this is to melt the soap, so stir constantly.

3. When soap is dissolved and your husband is eyeing you from around the corner, add 1 ½ cups of Borax, and 1 ½ cups of Washing Soda. Stir to dissolve and remove from heat.

4. Pour 4 cups of hot water into bucket. Then add soap mixture, and stir well.

5. Add to the bucket, 1 gallon plus 6 cups of cold water… that’s 22 cups of water. Stir.

6. Leave bucket alone (cover it if you have small children or pets, like a cat that likes to take her mice and drop them in water every time you turn around) for 24 hours. Mixture will become thick, similar to an egg noodle soup. This is the time to add the essential oils if you want to.

7. Pour mixture into a storage container, like your old laundry detergent bottle. Give it a good shake before each use, and use 1 cup per large load. Use with your favorite fabric softener… or don’t. Whatever floats your boat.

There you have it. An easy way to make $102 bucks.

In the three years in this house, I have found a lot of weird things within these walls. Ladybug infestation, roly poly invasion, finding cats and kittens in the garage. I never know anymore what will come to my door or sneak its way into my house.

This weekend I was talking on the phone grabbing an extra roll of paper towels in the garage while Neil ran a quick errand. During my conversation I kept hearing something strange, scratching, moving, wiggling around quite a bit. It came from a certain corner, just so happens the corner where I store my big tubs of Christmas stuff, cake decorating items, and gift-wrapping materials. The more I listened, the more I became scared. So I went back inside.

When Neil drove up, I met him in the garage and told him that there was something in there.

“It’s probably another kitten” he said, with a hopeful look as if I would even consider keeping it. No.

We leaned forward, straining our ears (if that’s possible) to the sound that was definitely there and not coming from the wind outside. I was scared.

Then we seemed to look at the same thing.

“It’s in the dresser” he said, pointing to a dresser that I have temporarily stored in the garage for now.

So, he grabbed a metal pole and I did what any self-respecting, dignified female would do who loves animals… I got on top of a chair and stayed there. I stood over him as he opened the first drawer from afar by using the pole and flung it open.

Nothing.

Then he grabbed the second handle, and flung it open.

The sound I heard can only be compared to the annoying sound Flipper makes. Was Flipper in my dresser?

Then I saw it. A little grey mouse looking thing, that was definitely warning us to stay away. He was jumping. Screaming. Very small but very intimidating. He obviously couldn’t get out.

After running myself out of the garage and parking myself in the driveway so that it wouldn’t come after me, I told Neil I was ready as he carefully slid the drawer out of the dresser and RAN with it out of the garage, hoping and praying the little rodent wouldn’t jump on him on the way to the lawn.

Neil threw the drawer down on the grass. There was silence. It wasn’t making the noise anymore. I started getting after Neil for killing the little creature in my lawn of all places, when Neil started approaching the drawer.

All of the sudden, it started barking at us again (Flipper) and literally chasing Neil around my little pine tree. It was running towards the garage and over what used to be my tulips… and although this all happened pretty quick, I must tell you what I experienced.

… things slowed down, it was like the Matrix. My husband stood there, with his pole and flung the barking creature into the grass again. When I locked eyes with where it landed, I followed it as it continued to bark and run right back to Neil. He took his pole and he flung it again, this time landing further away. Again, as soon as I locked eyes with it in ran in warp speed right back to where Neil was. I’m not kidding when I say this happened over and over again. Each time I could see Neil bending over like it was some sort of twisted game of golf, ping-pong, or hockey, fighting this rodent from getting back into the garage where Neil stood guarding the entrance. Flinging it further each time.

“Oh no you don’t….” he would say as he swung the pole. “Get back over there…” It was so pathetic. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It kept running back. Screaming at him.

What the heck is that thing? I thought. A rabid mouse?

All games eventually end, no matter how entertaining to (me) they are. Flipper Barking Rabid Mouse thing won. He made it to the goal and ran back into our garage, barking all the way in.

And I lost it. I cracked up and collapsed in a heaping pile of laughs on a nearby chair while Neil stood there with his pole, looking defeated.

Come to find out, it was something called a shrew, and it now lives in my garage. Upon doing research, I found this: Even old rough-and-tumble Teddy Roosevelt was impressed with the aggressive demeanor of his pet shrew, writing “certainly a more bloodthirsty animal of its size I never saw.”

I am happy to report I did not pee my pants, but it would have been justified.

I’m really convinced that God knew what he was doing when he created our legs, but especially our kneecaps.

If our legs could bend forward at the kneecaps, like flamingos, then we could kick ourselves all the time when we feel that we did something wrong.

Can you imagine what this world would be like, watching people kick themselves at the grocery store, mall, watching tv, in school, in traffic, cleaning house, on the computer, etc.?

We would most likely have bruises, possibly broken bones and lets just say it wouldn’t be pretty.

Especially with steel-toe boots.

There are certain expectations of me that are there because I am married to Neil. They battle the expectations I have of myself. I am forced to choose to lower one side of expectations, but I feel I have been lowering the wrong side for a very long time.

So the battle rages on. What I want and what I love seem to be two different roads. What do you do if they aren’t the same thing? Do you go with what you love, and tuck your what you want’s away so they are out of sight and out of mind? Or do you go with what you want for yourself and prepare to let what you love go? Or, do you go for what you want for yourself and separate just enough so the expectations of you are lower?

This is as clear as I can put it, even though it doesn’t resemble anything clear, what so ever. The mucky waters are spinning, and I can’t concentrate on anything long enough before the next thing hits me.

Melissa is a 27 year old single mother. She has two children, ages 9 months and 2 and half. She is working towards her certification to be a massage therapist. Needless to say, she’s quite busy and I’m sure she doesn’t think about things that truly make her happy. And as close as we are, I don’t really know what makes her happy… besides cookies.

So I wanted to know…

What Makes You Happy Mel?

My children make me happy- watching them in amazement as they grow, hearing their laughter, knowing that they’re healthy and having their unconditional love.

My friends make me happy. Whether its a telephone call from across the country (Deanna) or being in their presence, my friends are an important part of my life. I only need a few fingers to count them, but they are all very dear to me.

Pampering myself always makes me happy–manis/pedis, massages, haircuts, shopping. That’s my pick-me-up.

More importantly, I’m learning that doing things for myself makes me a happier person. As wives and mothers we put ourselves last and don’t realize how much it affects us until we hit rock-bottom. At this point in my life, I’m focusing on myself again and not feeling guilty about it. We only have one life to live and I deserve to be happy.

 Are you where you thought you would be 10 years ago?

Not exactly. At 17, I probably hoped that by 27 I’d be married, maybe with a few kids. But I thought I’d “have it together” by now. I thought I’d have a career I enjoyed and be so sure of who I was. I never thought I’d be separated or even consider divorce, especially with children in the equation. I never thought I’d be alone. I never thought I’d be left with nothing. I never thought I’d have to start over. The one thing I do have after all of this are two children who get me through each day and I am grateful for that. Knowing that they need me and seeing their little faces makes me want to be a better and healthier person. 

Deebit: This will be my last WMYH post for a little while, until I find out who my next two victims are. Are you learning anything? I am. Don’t be afraid to comment people! I know your out there, I see you on my blog stats!

You know how I mentioned once, you never know what your going to read on this blog. Sometimes the beautiful, short-haired author gets writers block and needs a little light hearted conversation to balance this blog out.

So tonight I was doing my ChaCha thing at twenty cents per question, and I must say that I really get some interesting questions sometimes. Like, did you know there are more people alive today than have ever died? Or, did you know that people with a higher number of moles tend to live longer than those with a lesser amount? (I’m living forever, holy moley!)

Tonight’s bloggable question: What did people use before toilet paper came out?

Amazingly, people were pretty creative with what they came up with. Corncobs for example, were used in rural areas of early America. It was common practice to leave a corncob tied to a string that was attached to the outhouse, which only leads me to believe that it was reused. Which only leads me to hug my Charmin and wonder why I wrote this post to begin with. But I’m not a quitter.

The Romans would use sponges, wool and rosewater. I don’t even know what rosewater is, but it sure sounds pretty. Sounds like a facial tonic…I want some, don’t you want some? And they were using it on their derrière. That’s unfair.

The majority of folks used whatever was nearby and not needed… leaves, sticks, stones, shells, catalogs and dry bones. It doesn’t clarify who’s bones, it just says dry bones. Wrong on so many levels.

Royalty in the middle ages used silk or goose feathers. Sounds like the pillow I dream about having one day.

All very interesting. And, quite possibly, things you’d rather not know… but you can’t say I didn’t tell ya.

P.S. Happy Full Moon.

If you read my old blog, you would have read about my cousin Sharon and her husband Bill. I refer to Bill as my Uncle Bill, because he just seems like an Uncle Bill. Although they are technically my cousins, they are a lot closer and mean much more to me than just that. I believe that God places people in your life to make up for others that you have lost (more on this later), but my Uncle Bill and Sharon are people who have been thoughtfully placed, for that I am sure.

If you were to sit down and have a conversation with Bill, you would never predict where it would lead. He reminds me a lot of my father in this way, you can just sit down and talk about anything and you can be sure of two things: You will learn something new, and it will be entertaining.

Bill is in his mid- 50’s, and is a coffee roaster with his own business. No matter how I try to explain his passion, I can’t seem to do it justice.

The earliest memories I have of knowing Bill was when I was around 13 years of age. I would take the train from Santa Barbara to visit my cousin Sharon in San Diego, who was dating Bill at the time. They would take me to “Coffeeland” which is the warehouse where he roasts and stores his beans. I remember being in awe, looking at all the many containers of coffee beans… roasted, unroasted, french vanilla, hazelnut, Irish cream, Sumatrian, Snickerdoodle, etc. I didn’t know what it all meant at the time, and I’m sorry to say I still don’t- but it is on my list of things to do before I die… to understand the art of coffee, the way my Uncle Bill does.

If you thought that was interesting, you should hear his story. Everyone has a story you know… some people are boring with their skinned knees in their cul-de-sacs and off to college and then job stories, but not Bill. His history includes backpacking all the way to Argentina over 5 months, with $1,100 in his pocket. He also traveled through Japan, Hong Kong, Hawaii, and Alaska. Speaking of Alaska, that is where when he took the train up the Yukon Pass, he discovered that coffee was what he wanted to do while eating at a family-style restaurant halfway up the mountain.

After hearing just a tidbit of his dynamic life, don’t you want to know what makes Uncle Bill happy? The answers might surprise you.

What Makes You Happy Uncle Bill?

Our tortoises- 2 boys and 1 girl, they all have unique personalities. They are very sociable and come walking over when they see us. We have raised them since they were very tiny hatchlings, they are part of our family and they teach me a lot on how be patient: slow and steady wins the race!

My coffee roastery- It’s familiar, I know where everything is and everything I need is there. I LOVE coffee and I enjoy the creative process- taking a raw product and creating something special- like a really good cup of handcrafted gourmet coffee! I’m proud to own my own business and to be a coffee roaster.

Ice cream- It’s my favorite dessert- no surprise here– my favorite flavor?? COFFEE!!

I enjoy going out for ice cream– making it an event. Mexican food- Real authentic– GOOD mexican food! My favorite? “flying saucer”- only when shared with a select few – they know who they are

 My truck- It’s a Dodge Ram Diesel 2500- It’s a solid truck and I like driving a Cummins diesel