Good morning!

Such a nice, cool morning so far, I am so thankful. My ac is off, fans blowing and windows open for fresh air. I'm enjoying the peaceful quiet of the morning. Lying on my bed, contemplating my day and letting thoughts flit in and out, at will.

I love my rural existence. I loved being a child of the city, when I was growing up, and hated moving to "the country", yet now the hustle and bustle of a metropolis holds no appeal and I try to avoid having to go to one, as much as possible. I laugh that I have "grown old" and "don't like people any more". I think it's just the peacefulness and the slow pace that suits me better. My days as the life and soul of the party are a distant memory, that was me back then, this person who enjoys the quiet and solitude is me now. I do like people, but I like them "out", LOL. I am still a social butterfly, just rarely a physical presence any more. I hate the intrusion of the phone, and yet when someone calls, will spend an hour or so happily chatting away. On social media, I am always sharing opinions, memes, commenting on threads, and chatting by private messages.  I am so contradictory, I amaze myself  sometimes (and laugh) at the seeming polar opposites of my personality.

The 13 years we have lived in the house, are the longest I've ever lived in one home.  When we moved here, my body was still working as it should, and my goal was semi-self-sufficiency. I tilled, we planted, we got goats and chickens and guinea fowl. We have one surviving goat - Sadie - she is 13 at the end of the year. 2 chickens are left, one who likes to ride around on Sadie's back. Our days of our backyard barnyard may be gone,  but what fun times they were.

Back then, our closest neighbours to our left, were a field away, down at the corner of our street. In the field between our properties, they grazed their sheep, they kept geese, and (way back in the beginning, 2003) boarded a horse. He was gorgeous, ungelded, very spirited and majestic, and he stole my heart. I'd get home from work (I worked in a call center back then) and would get alfalfa for my goats, and I'd get a handful for him and could call him, and he would gallop up from the barn waaaay down the field, and up to me at the fence. He was beautiful, a glistening black, and he would let me love on him over the fence. I did not know he was only boarded next door, nor that his owners had failed to pay for his keep. One day he was gone, and I found he'd been sold for the money owed. He'd been there 2-3 years that  knew of, at that time. If I had known he was for sale, I would have got him myself.

We had lots of fun times with our animals, and lots of issues, too. Particularly in their self-identities.

Our first goat, Rammy, was my baby darling. A preemie who came to me needing bottle feeding. 

He was a character. I warned my hubby not to play with him like a puppy, but he didn't listen. What was cute at 20lbs, wasn't as amusing at 175lbs! He loved us dearly. He would play with us as if we were another goat, rearing up on his hind legs and bringing his head down to butt, but we'd put out our hand, palm stretched like a "stop" and he would butt his head so gently against our palm.

When he was still small, I would take him with me in my car, and show him off to friends, and walk him on a leash. He took it all in stride, and loved all the attention.

My friends didn't believe me until they saw it for themselves, and then they'd laugh, but he had two distinct cries  "da-ddeeeee" and "mmaaa-mmmaaaa" depending on which of us he was calling for. It was so sweet.

Goats aren't solitary animals though, so we looked for a companion for him, and got our darlin' Cleo.
 

In January of 2004, we rescued 2 sick goats, Red and Sadie, and my "herd" was complete.

Red

Sadie

They were in pitiful shape. I learned very quickly how to give shots and do other things to try to bring them back to health. We must have done something right as a few month later, my vet said he had never seen such pampered goats, LOL.

We lost Red in the Summer of 2013, Rammy that Christmas, and Cleo last year. It has been the end of an era.

Sadie now runs with my dogs, as part of their "pack" when they are outside. It's funny. If she is out there alone, she walks like a goat, if she's out there with the dogs she runs like a dog.

I have a host of memories from those days - I'll have to share some of them. They've made people laugh, over the years.

Have a wonderful Tuesday, my friends :)

Why?

Yesterday, I saw a very sad video on Facebook. It was of a little boy, maybe 3 or 4 years old, screaming cuss words in a car while his mother and her friend laughed and thought it was funny. I just felt so sorry for that little boy. 

When he begins school and uses the same language to his teacher or another adult, he isn't going to get laughed at, or urged on. He is going to get corrected and punished. He won't understand why. The behaviour has been encouraged for so long, to him it's a way of getting parental approval. 

There will also be other children, children who have been taught such words are bad OR may never have heard them before, who will see this little boy's vocal acting out and go home with the stories, and whose parents will admonish them to keep away from him. Thus he will lose possible friendships from those who might have helped him to make his way through school/life. His options will be limited to only the children who may have similar behaviours.

It make me mad that these "parents" do not love their children enough to not wish on them, and create, such a hard journey for them.

The come some of the excusers:
"Well, the mother is young herself!"
"She's just a child, raising a child"

I'm sorry. I was 16 when  had my son, and he was the most precious thing in my life. There was no way I would have taught him to cuss and created a situation where he thought that it was acceptable.  I wanted only the best for him. Yes, I made mistakes along the way, but he was "the heart of my heart". The centre of my world. I felt it was me and him, against the world, and I loved him so much that it hurt.

How is that other little boy going to grow up in this word and realise what might have been his true potential? With the mother that he has, he has no chance.

I am someone who fights for children whenever I can. I look at this situation and think ... why is this not a reason for intervention? Why is this mother not faced with the possibility of "aiding and abetting in the delinquency of a minor" and forced to take parenting classes and taught to actually BECOME a mother? If she refused to work through what it takes to turn her child's life around, then I guess maybe I'd even agree with foster care. Moving into a home where he could see that the verbal tirades and threatening stances were not acceptable behaviours, and beginning to eradicate that viewpoint so that he could learn fresh ways and get a chance to grow up with a good future.

As it is, right now, this poor child is going to grow up to be a loud, vocally disrespectful, physically acting out, young man ... and then, what will his options be? It saddens me to think that his mother's legacy will be probably a jail cell.

Such a waste!

In Memory Of My Grandfather

Yesterday, Elvis fans remembered a sad day in 1977, when their idol died. One year later, August 16th 1978, my childhood idol died. My granpop. He was 64. I was 22.

That was one of the most awful days in my life, and even now, 38 years later, when I think of it, it hurts. 

My granpop was born in Bethnal Green, in London, October 23rd 1913, and looks like he was pretty dapper in his youth!

He married my nan in 1936, and my mum was born just before Christmas the next year, with my aunt following in 1940.  

Then he ended up serving in the British Army in India, in a place called Poona.

He was in the Royal Signals. With me having a passion for motorcycles, now I see where I got it from!

This was a pic of him in the workshop there.

Outside the Quartermaster's Stores.

I idolized him as a child, and my nan always used to tell me I was his "favourite" grandchild. I don't think that was a conscious choice, but I lived with them in my formative years, and then spent Summer holidays with them, so I think that bond was there because of that.

About 1962, with the 2 tone blue Austin that used to take us from London down to Devon and Cornwall on holiday

This was taken when I was 9 or 10. By then the Austin had been replaced with a  grey/maroon Thames van.

He and my nan lived around Hoxton and Hackney for my childhood and I have so many happy memories of those times. When I was small, I'd sit on his lap and watch the telly with him. I don't drink tea, and he had his made weird in a pint mug. 1/2 tea, about 1/4 milk and then topped up with hot water and 1 teaspoonful of sugar, yet I would "help" him drink his. Very odd! 

When I was too big to be on his lap, I sat on the floor in front of his armchair, between his feet. The living room was small and with the sideboard, 2 armchairs, the kitchen table and chairs, and the tv in the corner, there wasn't much room.

About a year or so before his death, they had bought a bungalow in a little village near Norwich, for after he retired. That was where he was when he started getting the pains. Up on the roof, doing some maintenance.

My granpop died of an aortic aneurysm, and it was very sudden and unexpected. He was only 64, which was too young, and I definitely wasn't ready to lose him. 

He's buried in the little churchyard on the hill, from where the bungalow known as Sunny View, could be seen. Sadly, it is no more. It has been demolished and a new home built there now.

My granpop's grave (my nan was buried with him after her death). This pic was taken on a recent visit, by my cousin Wendy, who cleaned up the grave

This heat has got to end!

I have never been a hot-weather person. Not for me, the days of lounging on a sandy beach "catching rays" and trying to get my lily-white skin to turn to a  burnished golden brown. My ginger hair was probably partially to blame for that, and the fact that I burned bright red and blistered so easily. From only weeks old, taking me out in a pram, even shaded by a parasol, I sneezed in the sun. I still do, 61 years later. Some things never change.

Thankfully, this week, our beginning drought situation has eased somewhat by almost daily bouts of much welcome rain. On a couple of days we were blessed by maybe hour long deluges, on others gentle showers that left as quickly as they came, but our lakes and rivers, and our trees, bushes and grasses, were blessed by the rainfall. I was happy too, listening to its patter, or drumming, on my metal awnings. Sadly, it didn't manage to keep the heat at bay, just made it more humid afterwards.

It's times like these that I am very appreciative of basically being on my bed all day. I am inside, cool, and not having to deal with the thick oppressive wall of hot air other than when letting my dogs out to do their business, or letting them back in a few minutes later. They, too, prefer lying around my bedroom floor, in the cool air, with their bellies on the ceramic tile.

The week has been good for me in other ways. I have been working both my businesses and am doing well with my goals this month. About 1/3 the way to my $500 goal for my WATKINS sales, and happy with my Campaign 18 AVON order that goes in on Thursday. I'd love to grow both, but it is hard connecting with people online when you can't physically be out there mingling, like you used to. I rely on people sharing my Facebook and Google+ posts, and my various blog posts, to find new people to serve.

My family history research has been meandering along well. I finally found the information that I needed to send for my great grandmother, my maternal grandmother's mother, Mary Ann Hunt's, birth certificate, so that I can lay to rest the question of her mother's maiden name and see whether my research is correct or others searching the same tree, who have another lady as her mother.

I also sent away for her father's birth certificate, as that will give me some more information on him, and my maternal grandfather's mother's father's death certificate, as he was only 35 when he died, and I would like to know why. He lived in an awful slum, that was rife with disease, so did he succumb to one of those? Equally the slum was a dangerous place to be, with robberies and murders being commonplace, so was he a victim of something like that? Only the certificate will tell.

My questions about my maternal grandfather's mother's early attendance at school is having to wait until the beginning of September when English schools "go back" for the Autumn term. However, further browsing of the document of her admission shows she was not the only 2 year old starting at Virginia Rd School in 1883. I really don't understand why a 2 year old would be beginning school, in a slum, at a time when education had to be paid for, and when "school age" children rarely attended for more than 2 or 3 years. I am really interested in finding out the hows and whys on that, and hoping the school can explain, since it is still open and very proud of its history.

This week has also been a good one in my beginning Christmas shopping. Just as I did last year, I am trying to do most of it from other home based business people and handicrafters.

My friend, Debbie, is a crocheter and she has been working on a dress for my great granddaughter, Sami. You can private message Debbie on Facebook through her page here.

We are now trying to find a cloche type bonnet that she can make to match, with a perky rosette on the brim, to complete the outfit. Last year she made my grown granddaughter a gorgeous pink cowl type neckscarf, so I planned on going back to her this year to do a quaint Victorianesque child's dress and cloche for my great granddaughter. I love getting "special" things for the people I love, or creating "special moments".

Hoping to create a Christmas "custom" I had another lady make 2 stockings, and I'm very pleased with them too. Chris cross stitches the names and can find fabrics to suit any tastes. I hope to go through all my great-grands and get them all a stocking done this year. Chris has a special page, for her business at Christmas Stockings on Facebook.

Daniel loves his Mickey Mouse.

And my granddaughter said to have Sami's done with Minnie Mouse.

I'm quite chuffed to be ahead of the game this year, again. It makes for a much more pleasant experience than trying to rush it all in December, because all of a sudden that month arrives and we don't know how it got there!

Well, that's it for me, today. Just going to enjoy the evening with my hubby, a floor-full of dogs and ye felines.

Have a great weekend, my friends.

Good morning my friends, and hope yours is off to a great beginning! Mine is!

I began by making my Thrive order with the lady I'm order-swapping with (she's ordering WATKINS from me) and paying bills. Then I updated 2 online games groups that I help admin, and am now watching "The Last Ship" that I'd recorded the other night. 

It's been a good week!

Wednesday was my 31st wedding anniversary and hubby and I had a lovely day together. Made us giggle that we've managed 31 years, so many expected us to fail when we were first married.

Yesterday, I made another discovery in my family history research, but it has opened up more questions. It's my great-grandmother's school admission record. Now, this is Victorian England. The surprise? She started at 2 years old! I am passionate about early childhood education but had never heard anything about it being part of Victorian life, far more often I've found, is children not attending school, or leaving early to go to work. I have to wait until school goes back in September to get a reply, but I emailed the school to see if they can help me learn more. I'm also hoping they may have other records pertaining to her.

Enjoy your weekend, everyone :)

Oh what joys I have had recently on the family history trail, seems that every time I get answers to some questions, others just jump up to take their place! Often, they'll send me off on a tangent, and away from what or who I would RATHER be working on. I must admit to getting frustrated with ancestry.co.uk sometimes. It's bad enough to be searching for a John Lewis in Hackney when there are a couple of hundred in the time frame that I am looking, worse though when it decides to list maybe 20,000 from all periods and US states. Why would I be specifying Hackney in London and specific years if I wanted a century of results from overseas?? It's so very annoying, and by the time I've gone through the first couple of hundred, my eyes are starting to cross and my head is throbbing.

Yesterday, we treated all the other 4 leggeds to de-fleaing, lice and worming treatments. Suffice to say, they were NOT happy. Gizmo, who we did the other day, got a steroid treatment instead. He accepts those better than pills, thankfully,

Finally we have rain, for which I am very thankful. 4" down for the year may not be as desperate as some, but bad enough for us to get into what they call a pre-drought situation. One afternoon of rain may not change that much, but at least gives the ground a good soaking, and refreshes the tress, plants and grasses.

This week I'll be doing an order swap with a friend of mine who sells Thrive Life. I had run out of the dried beef, so had to make my curry today using regular raw meat. I definitely missed the convenience of the Thrive stuff. De-fatting, and slicing took quite a bit of time.  I did enjoy my lunch though, it was good.

Have an awesome day. It's the first day of a brad new week and month! Enjoy, and be productive!

Ups and downs of a Dempsey week. LOL

It's been a good week overall, but - as usual - a few "bumps" along the way, just to remind us not to get complacent and expect it to always be that way, LOL.

***

Hubby had a bad night earlier in the week, and ended up taking the next day off. Thankfully that gave his body time to get itself sorted, and he's been ok since.

***

I cooked a "tart" the other night, think it was Tuesday but not sure now, LOL, (it didn't have a lid so can't really call it a pie) that was just a mix of a few ideas, and turned out great. I'd been fancying something with minced beef in, so had hubby grab some (it was supposed to be 93% but he got 90% and it worked ok too). I broke the meat in a pan with a couple of cups of water, and started heating it. Added carrots and onions, 1 veggie OXO and stirred 3 WATKINS gravy mixes into another cup of cold water, then mixed it in and stirred it well as it started bubbling down.

Being lazy now, I use refrigerated pastry, so in a rectangular pan I unrolled the circular pastry sheet. Some of the pastry flapped over the sides. I poured the meat and veggie mix in the pan, and then put the pastry from the sides, over towards the middle.

Next I popped 2 baking potatoes in the microwave, and once they were getting soft, I got them out and sliced and layered them on top of everything in the pan, and then liberally topped it all with grated cheese. Oven was 375 until the top was browned.

Oh and it was so good, we only ate half and half is frozen for another day!

***

My genealogy trekking this week has been amazing, although I stand by that the more questions that I find answers to, the more questions that arise. Trying to find my granpop's siblings and their families is quite frustrating. I have 2 connections, so have one of my granpop's sister's lines kind of sorted, and am trying to get gaps filled in on one of his brothers. The others remain (for now) as elusive as ever.

However, one of my London Facebook groups, provided a connection to a lady who was born a Hunt (my grandmother's mother's side of the family) however thus far we have not found our families to be linked ... yet she bears a resemblance to my nan and great-grandmother and her sister is the image of my sister! We are wondering just how many generations we will have to go back to find where our genetics join up. It could possibly be that their great-grandfather and my great-grandfather may have been brothers, or maybe their fathers were. We are a long way from pinning that down yet!

My nan's Poyser side, well that exploded when I began exploring Blore in Staffordshire, and I am now in contact with another Poyser from that area who has given me a lot more information. I wish I were in England so that I could go visit the churchyard and find the gravestones, plus trudge so many of the areas that still remain and get the "feel" of some of these places.

It's definitely a time consuming, frustrating, yet fulfilling addiction, that's for sure!

***

Then tonight, we had one of those "fun with feline" moments. You know, the ones that occur when you have to give a cat a pill? LOL. Well, we have an older cat who is a sweetheart and has suffered a lot in his life, his name is Gizmo. He's actually our oldest at around 13, and was the first I became allergic to (his hair is not velvety soft but kind of coarser) a few years ago. His issues began as a small kitten though, when he had Upper Respiratory, and the vet advised the rescue that had him, to put him down as he was not doing well at all. His fostermother at the time, begged them to give him a chance. He ended up having surgery on his eyes because of the Upper Respiratory, and they have always "wept" since with a murky goo that we have to clean often.

We got him when he was about 3 months old, he was a fosterbaby that never found a forever home and thus ended up staying with us and making us that forever home. 

He has suffered allergies every Summer, and is also allergic to fleas. When his allergies flare, we have to hit them from different directions, cortico-steroids (the vet gives him Prednizone), antihistamines like Benadryl and extra flea care. So, today, hubby got a new flea control to try, and while getting it saw "Pill Pockets" to put tablets in for cats. Yeah, well that may work for some, but he's too smart. Sniffed at it and turned his nose up. So, having tried it the nice way, we had to do it "the mean way". I hate "mistreating" him, but he had to have the meds. 

Suffice to say, it took TWO ADULTS 15 minutes to get one pill down one cat's throat! Every time we thought we'd got it, the mouth would stop moving, we'd start breathing a sigh of relief ... and he'd spit it out! Yes, we won in the end, but the look of disdain from Gizmo put us well in our place, ensuring celebration was out of the question!

***

Paid the mortgage this morning. Hubby's money went in the bank ... and, just as quickly, was gone. Set me thinking about the journey a single $1 bill makes in its lifetime. And some other profound thoughts regarding the value of each $1 bill.

For instance, a person works and receives the $1 as pay but (for argument's sake) loses 15c as tax on it. So now it's worth 85c ... but is then used to help pay for something else that has sales tax on it, so loses a little more value by way of the sales tax ... and so on and so forth. Mind boggling. Yes, I get these weird thoughts sometimes. LOL.

***

Have a lovely evening and weekend, my friends