It’s Wednesday night–almost 10 p.m. on Wednesday night–and I’m sitting on the couch next to a sleepy cat and a husband who’s absorbed in a book. For the last few months, I’ve had posts for this blog scheduled out for weeks, and sometimes months, at a time. But over time, sick kids, travel, and the general business of life have whittled away my buffer, and here I am, with a post due in roughly 12 hours and nothing to show for it. Well, not nothing. Now, there is this paragraph.
Listen, I KNOW I do not have to write every single week. But I made a commitment to myself that I would. And I’m trying to stick to it.
There’s a lot I could write about. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the disconnect between humans and nature and how imperative it is–for our own survival–that we heal that relationship. Jordan and I have been talking a lot about our big dreams to eventually purchase more land and work to restore it together. I could also write about how I’ve been working hard in the garden, reaping the first fruits of my labor, largely in the form of cucumbers (which I turn into pickles), kale, and the very first ripe tomatoes. Or about how three weeks ago, we brought home 9 new chicks. The chicks are probably the biggest time thieves in my life right now. They require fresh food and water changes multiple times a day, much navigating of chicken politics, and many snuggles. Or even about how the kids are beginning to grow up, and their incredible imaginative play is so inspiring to watch. Today was the third day in a row that they spent hours pretending a wheelbarrow with some water and rocks in it was a pond.
But right now, I’m just not in the mood to write about those things. I’m not sure what precisely I am in the mood to write about, though. Maybe the fact that I’m hot and sweaty despite just sitting on the couch. Or that I’m dealing with culture shock as I grapple with what it means to live in a small rural community where we’re clearly outsiders. Or that our house is messy and I’m too tired to keep up with it. Or that my period is due tomorrow, so of course I’m grumpy.
I guess that right now, I just want to be human with you. I’m coming to you unprepared, rather sweaty, definitely ready for bed and pretty bloated. So I’m writing the blog post that I wish that I could read sometimes, when I wonder about how these hyper productive folks manage it all–when I forget that the people I read about are not super human. (Hopefully you never forget that I’m human. My whole point is to let my humanness shine through the words, even if I am pretty good at making them glossy and shiny).
I am pretty productive. I’ve got a full time job, three kids, I’m almost done knitting my beautiful (anxiety-inducing) sweater, I’m halfway through a sequel to my novel, I have 9 chicks, and a big garden (that I’m attempting to put up veggies from).
I bet you’re pretty productive too. You might be taking classes, or raising kids, or working a white-knuckle job, or falling in love, or dealing with health issues, or learning a hobby, or fixing up a house, or tackling mental health issues, or being there for your family and friends. And I bet that when your deodorant wears off, your BO smells too.
Cheers to us. Take this post as permission to embrace your less prepared, stinkier days.
(Header photo is of my beloved adult chickens, Charlotte and Louisa, woh fully accept and support each other’s chickenness, even though they are quite smelly).
Feathery Thoughts 
kudos