My Way of Living [Search results for Boot] 

Here’s a New Years wish from me, to you. And you may recognize this from last year, but the sentiment still remains true.

We all talk about seizing the day living each moment to the absolute fullest, squeezing every drop out of life.but that’s sometimes impossible to do while living a real life. There are jobs, chores, obligations and emotions that demand more then their fair share of any conscious moment of living. If somehow you manage to live each second to it’s absolute fullest, my respect for you is enormous,… me I’m just trying to live in a given moment, appreciating it however brief that might be, and know I am being handed a gift so rare, that it should be gently cupped in my hands and looked upon with awe.

Yesterday was one of those rare days perfect warmish weather, birds chirping, sky a shimmering blue, the scent of spring keeping it’s promise.

My husband and I worked together in the back yard, we accomplished so much, my husband the muscle, me the cheerleader. We built a composter out of old pallets, and he moved the massive pile of leaves, dirt, and rotting garden treasures that was hulking in the corner, using it as the base for a new bed, besides the chain link fence. There will be pumpkins, squash, cucumbers, and zucchini growing in that this summer.

We built a raised wooden bed out of recycled materials for more veggies… well he did, I cheered him on. Go Gardener, go gardener! Of course there is little I can do, but my back is healing, and each day is a little better than the last.

It’s not so much what we accomplished, as the beauty of the day, the feeling of moving forward together after a winter of looking out on a snow covered backyard, planning, dreaming, wishing, seeing it come true bit by bit. A day to forget daily life, and live only in the feel of the sunshine on our heads, birdsong in our ears… and blue sky in our hearts. A day so rare, I held it in my hands with awe.

To those of you who are spring starved… don’t get too excited about these photos, they are all from last year, mostly taken in early April if that makes you feel any better.

Otherwise entitled: Excuses, and good ones at that. So the big wheels of the bike aren’t turning quite as much as they should be right now. I was so enthusiastic about getting the bike. Could picture myself wheeling freely down the road, hair blowing in the wind, what hair there is sticking out of the helmet. But the excuses come later, just wait.

What’s with those helmets? I know, it’s not fun to have your head cracked open like humpty dumpty, but if you are a woman of a certain age, you grew up without them. I can’t believe that our parents let us go out of the house on oversized rickety bikes, with no protection. And most likely faulty brakes, you need to be around 50 ish to understand me, it was a different world. We would whizz down huge hills hands free, looking back and flinging comments at the riders we had left behind, hardly recognizing that the gravelled road was shared with larger vehicles. We had a healthy respect for cars, it’s just that we were young, and… kids.

Do you remember your first really good wipe out, yes, the one where you went sliding through the gravel on the top of the paved road, and most likely only stopped after a good chunk of skin was removed. But you got up, limped the entire way home, and held back those tears until you slipped through the door. Did your Mom wash your poor ragged elbows with scalding water, and Epsom Salts, oh that is a torture I can still remember today. Knee pads, helmets, caution, that is something that our generation’s had to learn the hard way. Neighbourhood father’s teaching their kids to ride, hanging on to the back seat until the wobbly rider managed to stay afloat for seconds. It was the origin of tough love, fall down, and get back up on that bike, the bandages comes later.

Now for the excuses: I have hurt my neck somehow, rather painfully, and can’t turn my head, it’s freezing cold outside, and it rains a lot. It’s all conspiring against my getting some exercise. The bike was for a few days, winning big time, forgot to take off the 400 page manual on the spokes and looked like a dork, the warning stickers worry me. I had to sign a waiver just to get out the door of the store, what’s with that? It’s wobbly, and it’s seemed I had lost my center of balance. The helmet makes my head itch, and it keeps choking me under the chin. At first I thought I had made a rather big mistake, my arms hurt, my shoulders hurt, my wrists hurt from leaning over, and this was called a comfort bike. But I did some research, I am very tall, and this is the biggest size frame, I need to get a extension for the handlebars so I don’t lean so far forward, my pants have been untangled from the chain, and the grease might come out. And the wobbliness is going away, if I lean back a little. Persevere Jane, it will warm up, the sun will come out, and the wobbly ride will straighten out.

Now I want to hear all about your wipe outs, after all, misery loves company.

Saturday night, we [well, some of us] experienced a sensation that we had moved up here to avoid. A 7.7 magnitude earthquake that shook the coast of British Columbia, near Vancouver Island, the third largest ever recorded in this area, and triggered a Tsunami warning across the ocean. Only problem it was felt up here also, over 900 miles away. It was strong enough to sway the chandies on the ceiling at our neighbours house, their little dog unsettled, and barking. Have you ever been through a earthquake? Did the buildings move, any damage?

It happened around 8:00 pm Saturday night, I was starting to relax on the couch while my nephew showed us his photos which are amazing, the couch was comfy, and warm, dinner was good, and I just drifted off. I think I fell asleep for a minute, we all missed it completely, and found out about it today.

I’m glad we missed the rumbling, since we moved from the coast to get away from those worries… we were always aware of the possibilities of the earth shaking, and have gone through a few ourselves. When we lived in the condo by the ocean, those kind of things worried me in the middle of the night. It’s not something to take lightly, and that’s why we decided to move to the Okanagan, and not the Vancouver Island area.

It was reported on the news that this was larger then the ones that destroyed parts of Haiti, and New Zealand, but because it happened in a relatively isolated area no one was hurt. It also was a different plate then the South Coast fault that they are keeping a watch on, and for that we are thankful, because that area is highly populated, it would be a disaster.

With hurricane Sandy bearing down on the other side of the country, we realize just how fortunate those on the West Coast are to have gone through this, and had little or no repercussions… my thoughts and prayers go out to those who are going through the hurricane.

“Stop sloshing around on the blow up mattress, you’re making me seasick.” I tell him. It’s too hot to sleep upstairs during this rather unseasonable heat wave, and we have opted to “rough it” in the much cooler downstairs office by launching our last year’s acquisition of a blow up bed supposedly to be used for guests, in order to escape the heat upstairs.
Truly I was seasick, we referred to the never before used mattress as a dingy… it certainly felt like we were sleeping in one. Tossing and turning, hoping to catch a cool breeze, we joked that now the warranty was off, it would deflate.

We had no idea it would be at the stroke of midnight. And again at 2 am, and finally I jumped ship at 4 am. Man overboard, or I guess we should say woman who has deserted ship, and made her way upstairs come heat, or high water.

The brand new mattress could only seem to hold enough air for two hours, and we would wake up a little too near the hardwood floor for comfort. Bootsie our cat was rather disturbed at our new sleeping arrangements and made his preference known by trying to hide under the now deflated mattress.

But not that disturbed that he couldn’t circle the floor level mattress with his claws clicking on the hard floor. Dum dum dum dummmm dum dum dummmm the theme song from Jaw’s echoed in my sleep deprived mind, over and over. At least until it was time to abandon ship yet once again, and pump up the mattress.

Ah… indoor glamping, or as we sailors call it, roughing it on the high seas.
On a different note, Muddy Boot Dreams the blog is today all of 5 years old. Blow out those candles MBD’s… it’s your blogaversary. I’ve met so many wonderful and interesting people that I would never had had the chance to meet if I didn’t hit that publish button years ago.
A great big thank you to everyone who follows, and reads my blog.
And a round of virtual birthday cake for everyone.

Look for the next MBD’s blog post this Friday, and until then, enjoy the cake.

I was in a pretty bad [grinning] mood this morning and I just couldn’t get a handle on the approach to this blog post I wanted to write. See I am a formerly skinny girl, and now I am a slightly lumpy woman… ”life, it adds weight.” That’s my new motto, LOL. Add in someone mentioning that I have gained weight, when all along I was in denial, well funky mood time. But reality bites, and I am no longer in a funk, thanks to airing out the house, getting rid of the negativity, and just determining to be happier. If I have put some weight on, then so be it. We have been super busy with moving in and getting organized, and looking after my parents, and I neglected my exercising… thinking my formerly skinny genes would take care of everything.

I understand that’s the way life goes, and the doughnuts may have had something to do with it.they make the best cakes and doughnuts up here. I love to bake, I love to cook, I love to eat, and that makes a recipe for… A new bike. This is my thought, in order for me to be able to eat the foods I love, I need to exercise properly. We are planning on getting a elliptical trainer downstairs in the fall, that will be good for the winter months that seem to stretch on forever.

But for now the bike seems to be the answer. It’s just that a few things need to be fine tuned in that department. Namely me. It’s been a long, long time since I have been on a bike, and a few things have changed since then. I’ll let you know about them tomorrow.

Until then, big wheels keep on turning… skinny former girl keeps on burning… Calories she hopes.

So you read the previous post 5 tips on how not to sell your house. Trust me, it’s all true, and I’ve got more to share with you. Some readers were asking if it was all true, yes every last bit of it are experiences that we have just recently had while on our house hunting searches. Oh, and there is more. Let me tell you about the “cranky lady house.” We arrived at the house and got out of the car. Our Realtor [who deserves a medal for politeness while under fire] knocked on the door as she always does before entering. The door was opened by a women with no eyebrows who exclaimed “you're too early!” Now the tone of her voice was sharp, and nasty. She actually told us to drive around the block for 15 minutes until the “correct time.” Chastised we piled back into the car and drove around, I was feeling rather rebellious, and suggested not going back at all, but we did, and she was gone the second time. With it being a buyers market, you would think that she might have been a little nicer, and a bit politer. There’s tip #6 in how not to sell your home.

We had a guy who was conducting a business meeting at the kitchen table, while his Son, and their enormous dog greeted us at the door. When you are expecting a empty house, and you are greeted by a dog/horse at the door, and some guy giving stock quotes over the phone, it’s hard to really get into the layout of the house. We left as soon as it was polite. Tip #7 get out of the house, take the dog/horse to the neighbours. Tip #8 is a easy one, take down the creepy Halloween decor after the end of October. Our trip to visit this potential home was rather surprising, the outside was lovely, quiet, and nicely landscaped. But go through the front door and there in the foyer, was a antique wooden chair hanging from a oversized black butcher hook. As if that wasn’t enough, there was a old wooden coffin in the shed outside. Our very brave Realtor actually opened it to see if anything was inside, nope empty. The downstairs had bedroom doors painted black with giant tigers on them. And the clincher that this property wasn’t for us… the “grow op” wiring in the wall that had been duct taped over. Turns out they claimed it was for a summer kitchen, ah ha, in the bedroom? Be honest, this is tip #9. We saw a lovely house built on the hillside. It showed beautifully, clean as a whistle, and the owner even baked cookies to give it that lived in feeling. She told us that she had just dropped the price. That wasn’t all that was dropping. Things didn’t deteriorate until you took a walk in the bedrooms. As we progressed across the room, we got the feeling of going downhill. At first glance everything seemed fine, it wasn’t until we crossed the room and looked back that we realized we were several inches lower. Yes, the lovely cookie smelling house was sinking down the hill.

The cute little house in town was adorable, nice yard, and as we opened the front door, the soccer game blaring out of the wide screen TV shouted, and announced every move. Unable to find the volume control we toured the house wishing we could concentrate, and left. Tip # 10 the background noise you choose can influence your buyers. Choose wisely, obviously not all of us are into foreign soccer games.

I’ve seen rotting window sills filled with dead insects, dirty floors, unpatched walls, dust bunnies galore, and I am sure that the journey isn’t over yet. And I know that all the Febreeze in the world won’t disguise a smokers house, nor will a slap dab of paint cover a hole in the wall. It’s pretty amazing what some sellers consider clean, and presentable. But on the other hand, don’t forget there are some amazingly beautiful staged houses out there. One person even Christmas wrapped all of her paintings to give the home a jaunty seasonal look. It’s a journey, come along for the ride, our dream home is out there somewhere.

It’s a tough retail world out there and business’s are smart enough to realize that customer service is such an integral part of what they offer that it can make or break them. Small town business are struggling, so when you come across good customer service you become a repeat customer, and recommend them to others. It’s a really nice form of you do good by me, and I will do good by you. There are many amazing and wonderful small business’s in our town, with helpful staff, and great policies, doing their best to serve and keep customers.

Then we have the bad stuff, the surly clerks, the rude establishments, the Duh! customer service I call it. There is a local computer store where for the price of fixing your computer you too can have them treat you like you are a idiot. Many of the staff determined to make you feel like what little knowledge you have is inadequate, and why do you have a computer if all you know is how to turn it on. I certainly don’t feel like paying to be ridiculed, guess I won’t be using their services. Our local grocery store has a some surly clerks, one snarled at me when I asked her to keep the raw meat separate from the salad ingredients. Many of the floor clerks just look at customers as a hindrance, something that is in the way of them doing their job, that’s not good customer service.

Balance this out with the small town coffee shop owner who bravely decided to ban smoking from their outside sidewalk patio, and is now being ostracised by the oldies, who have gravitated to McDonalds across the street, smoking up a storm. We appreciate her great coffee, eco friendly cups, and the fact that she calls us by name. Every time I walk by her storefront I am grateful that there isn’t a cloud of smoke to pass through, and we always tell people that her shop is the best. It’s up to all of us to spread the word about the good ones. Make sure to mention to the manager not just the bad service, but those who give exceptional service, good employees deserve to be acknowledged.

Speaking of good services Claudia at Mockingbird Hill blog has decided to offer mentoring, and coaching to bloggers using Word Press, and Blogger formats. Claudia is an incredible blogger, and has a history as a coach, and teacher. If your blog bounces, or your questions are complex, I am sure she will be able to give you a hand, drop by her blog for more details.

I had a conversation in person with someone yesterday about voices in blogging that really made me think. We talked about blogging, both reading and writing, and how the personality, or voice comes through in the writing. She told me about meeting a blogger in person after reading her blog for quite some time, and how her voice in person was exactly like the one she had imagined while reading the blog.

For bloggers it takes a little bit of courage to put ourselves out there, to share our lives with strangers. Some “get us” they hear our true voice, others don’t. It happens. That’s life. But it hurts when we are misunderstood, or misheard.

I write from my heart, as I see things. Nothing extraordinary, and certainly never sarcastic, or mean. That’s not who I am, or who I want to be. I am by no means ungrateful for the wonderful opportunity to actually live out our dream and own our own house. I know that I have something that many will aspire to, but not attain. And by no means am I taking this for granted.

This is me, this is my voice. Life as I see it, through my lens. And I see periwinkle walls, and oxblood curtains, that’s my life right now. It’s only paint, and it’s only colors… it’s life. And this is my voice.

Sometimes you come across something so good that it rings that little bell in your head, and you want to share it. The blog Mark and Angel hack life, is wonderful, I first saw it on FB through another blogger, Joey from A village voice.

The blog is called Mark, and Angel Hack Life. And the post I would love to share is 11 easy ways to uncomplicate your life. Full of simple, and yet profound advice, it’s a great read.

It’s not that we haven’t heard this before, it’s just presented beautifully in their blog. And you know, it’s stuck with me for days since I first saw it. That’s a good indication that it’s great information. Here is a quick synopsis of what they are saying. 1. Learn from the past, and then get the heck out of there. More then a few of us can use that advice right now. 2. Focus on what’s truly important. No wasted time, no fluff, no regrets. 3. Focus on being productive, not just busy. Don’t just get things done, get the right things done.

To read the entire post from Mark, and Angel, click here. I hope that you like it as much as I did. Happy Sunday.

Maybe it’s the internets fault, or maybe it’s from oncoming snowstorms. But things are slow, and spotty, in blog land when I try to read your blogs. It’s so frustrating that I am seeing polka dots, those little circles that seem to just go around forever, while the blog loads!

So I’m sorry if you are one of the people who’s blog I just can’t seem to leave a comment on. I am trying to read them all, it’s just that for some reason, I either can’t pull up your blog, or if I can, I can’t leave a comment on it.

At first I thought it was our internet connection here at the farm, it does seem to be affected by oncoming snow storms, and I can lose the connection at any time suddenly. I can post, not too many problems there, but I just can’t read, or comment on many of the blogs that I used to be able to see without any difficulty. But then I started to read about other bloggers having the same difficulties… and I knew it was a mixture of both internet, and blog land.

Polka dots those slow circles, are driving me… round the bend. So now you know, if you haven’t heard from me in a while, there is a good reason. Please wait, sending request…

I’m a big fan of bird houses, in fact I rather love them… they were scattered all over the condo when we lived there, all made of unfinished wood, lovingly crafted by my Dad. It was a symbiotic relationship, he made them, I put them on display, we are both happy. He isn’t in any kind of shape to make them right now, but he is trying. A hip replacement on a aging body that already has to many other problems will knock you right back every time. He has determination though, and at his age, mid 80’s that’s a good thing. I have seen too many elderly people just give up, and lay back… it’s hard to bear. It’s also hard to think that one day, that might be us.

He managed to get mobile enough to go to his woodworking shop, and gave me a few birdhouses for our new yard. Each one has a story, a life, a dream built right into it. Many of them are one of a kind, unique, all are unfinished… a hope still to be painted. When I got back to our house and started to look around, I realized that many of his bird houses reside in my home, there are some duplicates, some unusual ones, all are loved…

So I decided to tackle them and start the painting process, the quality of workmanship in such a small treasure is unbelievable. A legacy that I hope will last many years. I mentioned to him that they were too nice to put outside in the weather, and ever practical, he told me that’s what they are for. There is a moral to this story, somewhere in here I am sure, I just can’t see it for the tears. The realization that he isn’t the person he was, that aging will catch up to all of us. And that the bird houses will go on for a long time, even if the production won’t. That’s a hard lesson to learn.

I did something today that I really hate doing, and I don’t like myself for having to do it. I threw out what was once perfectly good food, because I let it sit in the fridge too long. It was a week old, it had to go, but I missed so many opportunities to save it, and that’s what I don’t like about myself.
So I am starting a Reduce food wastage challenge or “Refuse” for short, and I encourage you to join in. We can all check back in a week, and see if we managed to reduce the amount of food we waste. And take a moment to join in on the poll on my sidebar, it’s anonymous, no one is going to know who you are, so make your answers count.

Everywhere you look it’s all about being thrifty, saving money, doing without, reducing our impact on the environment, and cutting back on the amount of food that we throw away.
According to information on the internet, over 40% of food is thrown out daily, being of a frugal mindset, that is staggering. Forty percent daily, how much do you throw out? Be honest with yourself, be truthful. And please, don’t be sanctimonious about this, I am being as honest as possible, and I expect you to also. Not all of us have dogs, and chickens, or hogs to feed this food to. There is no way every last crumb is being eaten before it’s spoilt, in any household, anyone who is telling you that, isn’t telling the entire truth.

There are hundreds of blogs out there telling you how to use up that last bit of cereal in the box, or those wasted veggie peels that can be made into soup stock. But how many of us actually manage to do this? And how much time do they have to spend trying to accomplish this?
I follow the two days, two hour rule on food. Never keep leftovers for longer then two days without using them up, or freezing them, and never leave food out on the counter for longer then two hours.
Due to my severe allergies, I can’t eat any food that might contain mould spores, and old leftover food might be a culprit.

Sometimes food gets ignored, forgotten, and just plain, “I can’t face eating left overs any more.” That last slice of too salty pizza, those few spoonful's of soup that are left over, it’s not a lot of food, it’s just that it is food, and it’s getting thrown out.
So for those of us that don’t have dogs, or chickens to eat the leftovers, what do you do? How do you feel about having to throw out the food? If you have any ideas or tips on how to use up leftovers leave us a hints?

And if you are a food waster, will you take up the challenge, and try to limit your food wastage for a week? I am curious and wondering just how I will do. Let’s talk about it again in a week, say we meet here April the 5th. I will tell you how I did, and you can tell me. And just out of curiosity, did you notice that all the photos represent edible plants? [But always check with a expert before ingesting any wild mushrooms, I don’t know if that one is edible or not.]

After what felt like weeks of

sunshine the weather turned into a slight drizzle that we must call rain up here. It even created a small amount of low level puddles on the driveway. A real homemade cinnamon bun kind of day… were they ever good. Meanwhile Phil the pheasant is busy protecting his territory, even in the rain, and he is not above peeking into the neighbours basement window, at first we had no idea what fascinated him, but then we found him the other evening clucking at the shiny chrome bumper of our pickup, he thought his mirror image might be competition. It’s funny how he has taken over our yard, striding right by the windows… hunkering down outside of the office, his morning stroll taking over our patio. He’s hard to get a clear shot of, he doesn't stay in one place long.

We love him… and feel very protective of Phil, after all he’s not the brightest chicken in the coop. There is some bird seed in clay saucers on the ground, for a while longer and then that too will be removed for the summer. There are many ground feeding birds here, pheasants, quail, chickadees, doves… and this way we can keep the birdseed out of the gardens. But like I predicted, Phil was one of the last birds to figure out where the food has gone… he would search all around the feeder and walk away empty beaked each time. Oh Phil, you handsome fella, all brawn… no… ahem.

The eagles are back, the ravens, and the crows have been upset for days… today the eagles are across the street eyeing up the Boo again.just when you thought it was safe to go outside kitty.

And yes, my back is slowly feeling better, yesterday was the first day it felt as if it’s almost getting there. I’ve been visiting my Chiro… don’t tell my Doctor, but it works for me. Thanks for all the well wishes, it’s coming along not as fast as I would like, [it’s almost 3 weeks] but it’s healing. I can’t wait to be able to sit for extended periods of time, ah what a treat it will be to sit at the computer for a half hour.

So whatcha up to? Rain, sun, snow… spring? Cinnamon buns? Oh, and one last thing… I’ve been using older photos from last year, because I just can’t get outside with the camera… well I can get out, but bend… not going to happen. These are all from last spring in the big block walk through the roads by our house.so almost like they were taken this year.

For the last little while I've been talking about some changes that my blog is going to be going through in the future. And both Laura, and I have mentioned another project that is dear to our hearts, it'll be ready soon. You'll just have to be patient for a little while longer.

While you're waiting can we talk about upcoming changes to MBD. If you are anything like me, the thought of change can make our stomachs flip. Pancake's anyone, hot off the worry grill.
Change is hard, most of us don't like it, I know that I might can say that it doesn't bother me, but there are equal amounts of times that I worry about it. You might be wondering why do it then? Taking a step back to look at what needs to be improved can be invigorating and inspiring. I n the end it's worth doing, because I'm getting a clearer view of what my blogging journey looks like. And that's a pretty big mountain I've been hiking. Muddy Boot Dreams started out as a personal blog promoting my art cards, and photography. It evolved into documenting our dreams for a move up to the Okanagan, now done. Checked off. Along the way I've talked about how we're each on our own personal blogging journeys. My blogging route seems to have taken the long trail up that virtual mountain. That's why it's called a journey, and not a short trip, right?. Along the way, I've met fellow hikers [that's you] some of the most amazing people in blog land. Many bloggers know me as Jane@Muddy Boot Dreams. I've worked hard at building my reputation, and brand under that name. I've had those Muddy Boot Dreams for so long, that I didn't realize they no longer accurately described where I am in my journey now. So I've decided to change my blog name to more accurately describe where I am now. MBD will start to redirect automatically to my new domain in the coming week. The light up here is phenomenal.I've never seen anything like it, and that has influenced my choice of new domains. This isn't a decision that I've made lightly, but it's a change that I need to make. I'm pretty sure you don't have to do anything unless you subscribe to my RSS feed and get my posts emailed to you. Easy peasy, right?

Thanks so much for being part of this, and I sincerely hope that you will come along for the next path of my blogging journey, and allow me to follow along on yours. I've got some wonderful things to show you, and look forward to seeing you there.

I was in my local bank, it’s a small and friendly branch, almost everyone calls you by name. When a new teller read my business name on the cheque which is Muddy Boot Dreams, she remarked, “well. that’s a cute name.” Misunderstanding her intentions, and wanting to make sure she understood that there was nothing cutesy about my business name, I reiterated, “no it’s not cute, it has meaning.” Then I explained that we have a dream of owning a small farm up in the Okanagan, and living a life filled with muddy boots, that was our bliss. Hence the name.

We spent a lot of time trying to come up with a name that would invoke the feeling we hope to have when we get to our farm, and many names were submitted but turned down. I wanted something that could be used as a farm name also. We will call our farm, Muddy Boots Farm. Since I have started my small business, I have heard every connotation available, “muddy boot jeans?” no not jeans, dreams! Who do you think I am? Mr. Green jeans? Mucky, no muddy, as in mud. You know that dirt stuff that sticks to your boots, no not sticks to your ribs, I am not a chef. What kind of dreams? The real good ones, of fresh air, fresh veggies, and land! No foot fetish people need apply, nothing like that going on here.

At first I used “Jen’s Garden”, for my cards, but it won’t work well a few years from now, and I am glad that we spent the time brainstorming about a great name. I am proud to say that I am from “Muddy Boot Dreams,” even if some people think that it’s a cute name.

We all have them, those dishes, and knick knacks that are too nice to give away to the thrift store, but not appealing, or to our taste at all, so just what do you do with them? I made a liberating decision today, well partially freeing, and I did feel rather euphoric after I did it. You see, it’s complicated, the dishes, and knick knacks are mostly ones that were given to me, so I felt guilty if I didn’t display them in our condo. Our place was so tiny, everything was on display, and if it was “missing in action” it would be very apparent when the giver came to visit. Now that we have a house, I could fib and say that they had a unfortunate accident during the move, but I would know that wasn’t true… so, no, I wouldn’t do that.

We now have more room, I have decided to put them into the basement for the time being, and when everything is unpacked, and organized, then I will deal with those items. Life is too short to be displaying Great Aunt Matilda’s hideous wedding clock forever… pack your bags, we’re going on a guilt trip if you get rid of it.

I honestly don’t know what to do with things that other people have gifted to me that just don’t work in my house, I am grateful that they thought of me, but sometimes our tastes just don’t run the same street. Am I obligated to keep them forever? Should they get a place of interest in my home if they remind me how much I don’t care for the item each time I see it? I have given what I thought were perfectly matched gifts to friends, and I know that they never see the light of day. I totally understand, if you don’t like it, don’t worry, I won’t be hurt. After it happens once I make sure to give you something consumable, that you don’t have to keep.

So this is both my guilt trip, and my dishy decision, to put them away, and deal with them later. They have been on show in my home for years. What would you do?

When we first start blogging, some of us shy bloggers do absolutely everything we can to keep others from finding out who we really are. Hiding ourselves under different names, shielding our privacy, moderating comments, keeping our own secrets.

We are like a closed flower, blooming for only a select few.
The internet is a big and bad we were told, don’t divulge anything, to anyone, especially your private details.
That person you think might be a new friend could be intent on impersonating you and stealing all of your information.
Gradually as we wander through other blogs we relax our standards a bit, sharing a few details, using our real names with those whom we have started to trust.
We even become comfortable enough to let it slip where we live, and what we do, opening up slightly like a dandelion in the morning sunshine.
We’d marvel from afar at the open book bloggers, those who tell all, share lots, showing images of their children, name their spouses, and even, horrors of horrors posting their real birthdays.
Shockingly brave.
And then we would read about a blogger who had images stolen, or blogs hacked, and that would be too much for us to bear.
Our quietly opening flowers suddenly snapped tight again in fear at what was out there.
We shy bloggers might have spent the next little while purging any pertinent data from our old posts.
Was my husband’s real name in that post, shudder and hit delete.
Ack, there is a hand, with a wedding ring on it in this photo, what to do?
Delete, delete, delete.

After awhile we become comfortable again with our level of openness, familiarity breeding not contempt, but contentment.
We might ask ourselves, who reads our blog anyways, who cares, what would they do with anything I write about? So we open up like a flower in the sun once again, spread our petals to the warmth of the blogging community, and bask in the warm light.

We find our middle ground, our patch of garden that lets us bloom, and flourish like the flowers that we want to be. We still have our internal blogging rules, the unspoken ones that allow us to share, but still be secret enough to quiet the scared voices in our heads.
While Muddy Boot Dreams might have started as my home based business, selling greeting cards and images, it’s been the last 6 years blogging that I have really started to dabble in social media. I have seen it grow in many directions, pages on Facebook, tweets on Twitter, Instagram feed, website, and more.
Meticulously commenting as Muddy Boot Dreams, I lived, breathed and was MBD in my interaction on social media. I worked hard at promoting the name, the brand, the image.
What I didn’t want to face up to was that with a bit of digging almost anything can be found out anyone on the internet. So blogging under MBD didn’t hide my real name, and it didn’t keep me the anonymous blogger I hoped it would.
I am a real person, and not just my “brand,” trying to keep the two separate isn’t working as well as I thought it might. And what happens when I no longer wish to be MBD, and want to be Jane?
Since that little epiphany I’ve connected my blog to G+, and am now commenting as Jane Vandervoort, authentically and openly showing everyone who I am.
Well almost, my profile pictures still requiring a little digging I’m not quite as comfortable with this “real” me stuff as I pretend to be.
I realized that while MBD is a brand, I am, and will always be me, Jane.
I want to be able to say proudly to anyone, yes that’s my blog, be it a future employer, friend, neighbour, or a stranger. Those photos are the ones that I have taken, those ideas are mine, I’ve worked hard on this, and I am proud of what I am creating.
Proud enough to claim it as mine.
Wow, that’s a little scary to put out there, but so be it.

I’m owning what is written, and photographed, if it’s under Muddy Boot Dreams, or my name.
Bit by bit, I will move forward, finding out what suits me best, and make my choices as I go along. Some parts will stay, some will change.
I’m choosing to be as real as possible, without revealing every single secret I have, it’s OK with me, to be me.
In the end, that’s what it’s all about isn’t it?
Believing it’s OK to be genuine, and not just a reflection of your image, style, your blog, your presence on social media.
If you have been blogging under your real name for sometime you might wonder what all the fuss is about.
For me it’s just another step forward into the light, opening up those petals to bask in the sun.
This flower is learning to bloom. How comfortable [or not] are you with blogging under your name.
Do you use Google+ with your real name?

I was going to be sensible this year, without heading into it full tilt but it’s begun, the seasonal marathon of back aching spring fever, garden lust that signifies getting out in the garden.

Spring has suddenly shown up at the door, her bags overflowing with tufts of green stuff hanging out at the seams. Although the colors she has painted the decor are still brown, there is a slight green tinge and that’s our signal to dive in.
No amount of winter training will equip us for the long marathon to come. The early morning wake up calls before the sun shows it’s hand, the “should I just get up and get outside despite the dark” thoughts. The late darkening evenings getting just one last garden raked, and prepped before the mosquitoes show up. The absolute joy of seeing anything emerge from that frozen brown soil.
All winter I’ve walked through miles of rugged rural roads dodging ice and snow patches, slipping along with crisp breezes freezing it’s way through layers of scarves and gloves. When the roads were clear enough I’ve biked between late winter snowstorms, warm in the sun, cold in the shade. On inclement days the tread mill has been my friend, and none of it prepares me for that first real day of gardening.
Warming up before grabbing the tools is futile, just get in there and get it done, time is a wasting, and we are already late as it is. Neighbours emerge from their den’s looking pale and rested not seen all winter. Some are tanned from winter get away’s, they will be the ones that groan the loudest, you pay for what you got. Soon the air will be filled with the sound of raking, clipping, pruning, and digging. Translucent recycling bags, and piles of branches will appear at the end of the driveways, like gaily wrapped gifts for spring, while residents walk with crooked posture for a few days.

My 80 year old neighbour insists on his yearly stunt of blowing the accumulated fir needles off his roof despite my worry about his falling off and breaking something. We’ve offered to do it for him, but stubborn farmer genes do not age as fast as the body does. I rake the dead leaves from the garden beds with one ear listening to the sound of the blower stopping, my signal to look up and spot him. I mentally run through my first aid steps in case he were to fall.
The shivering dichotomy of frost covered morning grass, and layer shedding afternoon sun with down vest, and gloves in the AM, sunglasses and t-shirts in the afternoon. The soil is cold, and so are our muscles, but we will both warm up as the season progresses. The snows hold onto frequently smaller patches and reveals what been hidden for the past 4 months.

The workouts, the walking, the biking, will not prepare you for the hours of squatting, bending, raking, clipping, and late that night we wake to the solitude of a evening TV show playing to a audience of snoring people and realize that this is gardeners boot camp.
It’s hard, it’s fast, and it’s painful, but I would have it no other way.
Bring on the gardening games, we are more than ready.
You may have noticed that my watermarks are a little larger today. Many thanks to Lori @ Family Trees May Contain Nuts for letting me know that someone has been stealing our images and claiming them as their own, even being so bold as to put their copyright on the bottom of the post.
Despite Copyright declarations on my sidebar, watermarks, and the metadata that I have embedded in all of my photos they feel that they can just do what ever they feel like with our images.
While I advocate the pinning of my images to Pinterest as long as there is full credit, and linking back to my blog post, I do NOT allow use of them for any other reason without my written permission.
Good for you Lori for catching this, and thanks again for taking such quick action. Lori has outlined the steps you can take here should you find your images stolen.
Let’s all be vigilant, and if we see someone else’s images stolen let them know about it.