From the desk of the Tiger Lily.
As of late, I have embarked upon numerous adventures far from the madding crowd of politics and Facebook. (And I highly recommend life without social media, as it is nothing but an endless, marginally relevant information flow which brings unnecessary emotional yo-yo effects and stress to one's life.) The post-Christmas week of no power took the stuffing out of me to bother much about messing around with superfluous activities. Our calf in the kitchen episode a week ago Sunday was excitement enough for awhile, as once he shook off the bone-chilling cold he acted like he was ready to run a marathon while brimming over with energy-- pretty impressive for a youngster only a few hours old. It took several days for little Puntz to recover from the shock of the monster in her house.
The last couple of months have also been challenging due to winning a tug of war battle with an obstreperous goat but temporarily losing the ability to help LC with chores as my back was semi-seriously injured. Thankfully, it has been healing with God's Grace enough that I can do a few things without pain, just some soreness, and in a week or two will be almost completely recovered, God-willing. There were also a couple of brief eye problems from satanic thoughts/attacks sent via a certain quarter, but everything has sorted itself out and we are winning these battles in being victorious in Christ.
Due to a renewed acquaintance with Robert Louis Stevenson, I have become semi-fluent in reading Scottish Gaelic. It is odd in that if you grapple with it long enough for "total immersion", the words begin to make sense, which cuts down on time spent with the Scottish dictionary. His style is beautifully eloquent, particularly the collection of tales and fables which showcase his marvelous ability to compose stories in different styles, all of which draw the reader in like people-watchers looking into the windows of houses while on a stroll and imbibing of the lives of others. Each story is like a different color or mood of the constantly changing sea, and the endings leave one with the sense of waking from a life in another world.
Another venture has been discovering how to balance coaxing, treats, threats, and the occasional whack with a lead rope when leading rumbustious dairy heifers to drink water. Belle likes to walk too fast and/or break into a trot to catch up with Daisy, usually waiting until she and the person attached to her lead rope are both on a slippery stretch of ice to begin this feat. Daisy enjoys walking with her muzzle three inches from the backside of the person leading her, indulging in the occasional nudge of affection, full-fledged bunt, and sliming the coat/coveralls with her sandpaper tongue when she's really craving attention. In LC's case, she is even more lively in her stratagems to gain LC's attention-- sudden stops and starts, maneuvering her giant body in the way of going forward, and absolutely refusing to be led, also when LC is on the ice. Occasionally, Daisy slips her lead rope if it is not securely fastened, and then she enjoys a short game of "chase Daisy while she hides behind Belle and dances around, staying just out of reach". I don't think Daisy ever outgrew her love for pranks. Summer before last, she ran up swiftly and sneakily behind a contentedly grazing Belle and flipped her hind legs over two feet in the air. (After Belle's horns became a factor, the scales were evened out.) Both of them really get a kick out of hurrying cats along if the cats are remotely in their vicinity. They are both good girls, even when they are frustrating us with their antics and taking twice as long in the cold weather, including Daisy thinking it is funny to run away from the barn towards me (with Belle of course following suit) when LC is attempting to herd them back into the barn.
As LC says, all is family with Vikings, even if they didn't make it to the Super Bowl this year. It is tough when life makes you take a header, no matter what the circumstances.
"Why do we fall, Bruce?"
"So you can lecture me everlastingly on the merits of picking myself up, I inevitably develop an anti-hero savior complex, and then I save Gotham City using unorthodox methods outside of the law after you kick off because you were too pacifistic to carry a weapon for self-defense?"
"Exactly."
"Exactly."
I remember living the first 2+ decades of my life in the doghouse, not really for doing anything particularly bad, but just for the mere fact of existing. After finally breaking free and gaining some small modicum of independence, I realized there was no reason to continue beating myself up over things from the past that can't be changed. Furthermore, the past few years have taught me to not let other people ruin the day God has Given me, as much as possible. Most of them do not deserve that much distinction, no matter what their supposed prominence in my life (relatives as well as "friends"). When those few do succeed in cutting to the quick, with no effort to be understanding or to be decent human beings, even after I have met them more than halfway in being humble in not striking back, I stop turning the other cheek and just give it to God, with the full assurance that He will Handle things in His time. In some people's eyes, I know I will never stop being in the doghouse, but now I simply refuse to let them define the direction of my life or make me feel guilty for being in God's Care.
Anyway, just wanted to say hi to the friends and Spiritual family out there. God Bless the good, from a fellow occupant of the doghouse.
agtG
