Blogger, life enthusiast, queen of chaos. Author and star of #closertocrazy, and Hairbeast Productions. I live in north central Massachusetts on a tiny misshapen, entirely accidental farm. Life is always an adventure!
Available for freelance writing and social media Brand Building consultation
Contact me at email@example.com to discuss projects and fees
Father’s day. Everyone is here with us in this moment. We have more blessings than we ever imagined possible, more days in the sun than days in the rain. From that first one, waiting expectantly for David to join us on the outside, through four more babies sleep deprived punch drunk blind leading the blind totally by the seat of our pants make it all up as we go along hope for the best try not to break them child rearing years, to this very moment. Whatever chance and fate and dumb luck it was in the universe that brought you into my life, I forever whisper thank you for making me a mom, and for being the most wonderful father of five. Happiest Father’s Day yet. ❤️
Twenty dollars meant for tomato plants, a skinny little flea market bunny missing patches of fur, and what happens when I’m left alone with a choice to make.
I have a soft heart. It’s probably also accurate to say I have a soft mind given my track record for debatable choices and equally debatable sanity.
Three years ago I stood at a table covered with plants, one of dozens and dozens stretched across a dirt lot and filled with chachkis, second hand items,odds and ends, and homemade crafts.
An old woman sat on a folding chair in a small portable pen with rabbits for sale around her feet. They were adorable. I just couldn’t resist moving a few steps closer to get a peek.
The thing that caught my eye was this very small, very skinny baby bunny hiding under her chair. He was much smaller than the other bunnies and missing so many patches of fur from being picked on by his heartier siblings.
I asked if I could hold him and she scooped the wee thing out from under her seat and handed him to me. I could feel his ribs. I don’t think it took me more than a second to fall in love with that poor creature and asked how much to buy him.
My husband just shook his head when he turned up with the car to load the tomato plants, only to find me standing with absolutely no tomato plants, and cuddling a very scared bunny under my chin.
I named him Buttercup because he was a buttery sweet thing. He wouldn’t eat at first. He just huddled in a corner of a Rubbermaid tote in the corner of my kitchen, looking sad and sleepy.
I nudged him and tried to coax him to drink but he stayed tucked and shaking. I worried over him and didn’t want him to be alone so I placed our three little ducklings in with him.
They quacked and bothered him with their curious plodding, and splashing around his food and water. Little by little he made his way over to his food and started nibbling. Every time the duckings tried to get to the food, he nibbled faster. There’s nothing like a little healthy competition to urge an underfed bunny to get hopping and eat!
It was amazing to see that wee thing start to strengthen and fatten. His fur grew back soft and silky. He grew bold hopping around our kitchen finding new edges of books to chew on and baskets to devour.
He’s three years old this month. His belly is nice and round and fat. He has a lovely double chin, long droopy ears that sweep the floor, a gentle heart and is definitely the best thing I ever bought for my garden.
I have been hushed too much for being me. Though I was raised to be true to myself I hushed myself to keep secrets, to smooth moods, to stabilize situations that felt too tumultuous, to hold together things that seemed to turn to water in my fingers.
I pressed my knuckles against my lips without even realizing I was doing it. I covered my mouth with my hand when I felt anxious and never noticed.
“It’s better for everyone. Keep the big picture in mind. It’ll blow over faster, there will be less of a mess. Better just you than everyone else. Find the bright side.”
Hushed by peers for speaking up, for speaking out, for being different. Hushed by other women who require specific social tiers.
“Don’t make waves, definitely hold your thoughts, and dress a little more conventionally. Earn your place at the table, on the sidelines, in break-room cliques, work functions, school events.”
Hushed by men for wanting to be seen by them as truly human, as more than a pretty, smiling doll to be taken out and played with, and then tossed into corners until I was wanted again. A head filled with thoughts and a heart burning wild, I am more, so much more.
“Don’t overwhelm men with your emotions so much and things will go better. Just be a little less…you know, ‘you’. “
Less of me.
Be less of me and things will go better and I’ll be more palatable to others.
Less of me.
Less of you.
But I won’t be hushed. I won’t be less. My silences helped on needed levels inside long ago, but strangled me far more than it was worth.
So I will bend, and I will grow, and I will learn and I will adapt but I will not be less and I will not be hushed anymore.
You were a California boy living near the ocean in Encinitas, sand between your toes, a smile that went on for miles but started in your eyes. I was the girl from Massachusetts trying on new states like pairs of shoes.
We met on a job in Phoenix Arizona in November 1993. A week later we flew to Colorado Springs, pulled onto the same team.
A little over a week into the Colorado job, just days before Thanksgiving and only a little over two weeks after we first met, you asked me to marry you and I said yes. That’s all it took.
Our families thought we were crazy, possibly a little drunk, definitely foolish, but they loved us and stood with us.
We didn’t know where we were going, where we were planning to live, or what we wanted to be when we grew up.
25 years ago, on a morning filled with sunshine and promise, we held hands and dove into the sky and into the vast unknown, and held tight.
Happy anniversary to the man who didn’t blink, didn’t swerve, just held my hand and jumped.
Every day that I work I kick off my shoes in my car at lunch. I roll the windows down, lean my seat all the way back, and stare up at the sky through the moon roof.
I take slow, deep breaths in the quiet, my feet sticking out of the driver side window, and let a little calm wash through me.
It doesn’t matter that it’s only thirty minutes in an eight and a half hour day. It doesn’t matter that I’m sitting in a slightly battered old car, or that it’s parked in a lot at the hospital. I can let go immediately, wherever I am, it’s free and easy and it feels like a little vacation for my soul.
My distress tolerance was very low by the end of the day when I stopped to pick up a few things on my way home from work. I Spotted bright, cheery yellow flowers on my way in and decided to treat myself to two or three to plant later on.
I was having trouble pulling apart the little plastic plant sections and getting very frustrated. Soil spilled and the containers refused to part and words slipped from my lips that ought not be used in polite company.
I stopped to take a deep breath and I asked myself
“Ellie , what would help you feel less frustrated and better able to control your anger?”
And I said to myself,
“not trying to pull these @#%! damn things apart, and getting all pissed and mad as hell, and just buying the whole damn thing. THAT would help me feel less frustrated and better able to cope with my anger!”