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I cleaned out cabinets that were recently installed. Mixed up a batch of milk and honey bread. A tiny batch. Set it in the window front to rise.

Took glasses and wine glasses and coffee cups out of boxes and set into their new home in the lovely cabinets. Made lunch for a friend who popped by.

Dealt with more paperwork. Painted the back door. Painted a couple of big pots. Set a table for kids to share dinner.

Threw out the wilted wildflowers. Rose and Nora came by the bakery after their late cross country practice and we enjoyed a light supper of salad, fresh bread and chicken leftovers.

We made small talk. Covered the basics of school. Then I looked around and asked if they remembered that day in March.

You know, the day Rose came up with the big idea that it was time to expand. And Nora told me she thought that North 5th street was the perfect location for the shop.

They nodded. They remembered clearly. Maybe it was my imagination, or the weird lighting, but for a second, I kinda thought our eyes grew moist.

My mom's paintings on the wall. Lovely tables and chairs. Black iron chandeliers Christine and our friend Mike installed.

Those baby herbs and veggies growing taller and healthy out front. At least 40 baby chard plants coming up from seed, tending by my precious dad.

Order, miraculously being birthed out of the chaos, the dream, the imaginings of a family a bit too daft to think too hard before we plunged.

My mentor from the Small Business Development Center popped in yesterday. We chatted about the progress and the steps and how things are moving forward.

She hugged my neck as she left, eyes bright and confident. Her confidence leaked out onto me. How can I explain how precious this dream is to me?

How crazy? How marvelously it is tying our family together? The leaves on our fig tree are falling this week. Things are hot and dry.

Zinnias look a bit the worse for wear, so do the marigolds, but I know if I were to give them a deep soak instead of the emergency water, they would pop right back up.

I wonder if I look like them? A bit crispy and tired around the edges? Oh, but the coral vine! She is a work of art.

Dripping with hot pink jewels, the bees and flies and wasps, the hummingbirds hang around her wall of delight, drinking it up with joy.

I grab armsful and stick them in St. Germaine bottles I have been gifted. They grace the bakery beautifully.

Tomatoes keep making, as do the jalapenos. Pretty much the rest of the garden is done for. The chickens have begun to molt.

I let them free range the yard, hoping they would work over the bugs, which they have. They have either paused their laying duties, or have their nest well hidden in amongst the weeds.

Do you remember the ducks Rose implored me to spare this summer? I have watched them grow so robust. So juicy. So luscious. The other day, I have to admit I was fantasizing about duck a l'orange as they waddled in and out of their little pond.

I imagined the crispy skin, the popping fat. A batch of fried potatoes. And then, a dull, waxy looking orb grabbed my eye. Actually three orbs!

Lo and behold! The ducks started laying eggs, as if they could read my mind and were desperate to pull off a feat that would ensure their survival.

I now have over a dozen duck eggs, collecting in my house. Will transform them into spelt pound cake, probably.

Perhaps we should name the girls? Look like they will be staying with us, and won't Rose be glad to know.

A year or so ago a friend told me how she makes a list on new moon days. A list of goals she wishes to accomplish, a prayer, a to do list, a vision chart.

I was feeling rather low at the time. Feeling dull. Feeling long term, low grade sad, grateful, but trudging.

I sat down, made my list, some rather practical things, like being able to have enough money to pay the bills. Some family related, like more consistent family, sit around the table dinner times.

At the bottom of the list, my heart let out a little sigh. I missed my creative joyful spark. I felt her absence deeply. For over twelve months I have cried out for that spark to return.

I know it is part of my essence, my being, and I want to offer my children, my family and sure, why not?

The whole world deserves my whole self, not just the shadowy, leftover bits. Sometime early this spring, maybe March?

Rose and I were sitting at the table chatting over coffee. I don't even quite remember what brought about the conversation.

Perhaps I mentioned how I was tired of baking out of our home. At any rate, Rose, who had not been terribly sparkly herself, lit up from within. With a smile I had not seen in some time, she suggested I should open a french bakery.

She pulled up some images on google, and something lit up inside me. We smiled, we dreamed, we gave way to the luxury of fantasy for a few minutes.

It was a moment I will treasure. Memories are fuzzy, I can't remember exactly, but Nora got engaged in the daydream, and they reminded me how Dad wished for me to grow and expand.

How he was a firm believer that my freshly milled ancient grain and sophisticated real food was something the world would enjoy. We fantasized about recipes.

Expanded offerings. A charming, lovely, European place, sophisticated, yet warm. Light, and airy, with room to hang my mom's fine art to display.

How fun it would be for my dad to grow my greens in his garden and have meaning and purpose that would feed our community. We got so excited about the idea, I immediately grabbed Nora and we went driving around Alpine seeking the perfect spot.

It was a whim. A way to spend a gloomy Sunday afternoon. Nora saw the Hudson Event center downtown, a recently renovated building, just the right size, just the right place.

We drove on, saw another building, owned by some customers and acquaintances. I don't know what got into me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark kindle.

One of my friend, customers, Martha, had been encouraging me for ages to go. I kept putting it off, saying I had no time to grow, no time to think about boring business stuff.

All of a sudden, I decided to invest three months into doing the hard work of determining feasibility regarding expanding the bakery. I started sketching drawings, seeking estimates, coming up with business plans.

I went to walk around the building on fifth street, turned circles, called my best business advisor big brothers and sisters, listened to their advice, shared them my vulnerable dreams.

It surprised me how scary it was to open up my little dream. Business had grown, actually had significantly outgrown my facility some time ago. I had grown tired of working in my home.

Having home and family and work overlap on a regular basis. The system worked really well for many years. The kids were little and I was home.

Busy, but home! Now my kids spend a great deal of their time and money hanging out in the cool coffee shops in town.

School, friends, sports and work keep them far from home nowadays. I wondered if it were possible to expand in a way that would benefit me, benefit my kids and parents.

I wondered if there were a way to increase my profit margin in a way that could make this operation more sustainable. Loretta took me through my paces.

We spent hours each week, working through elements of a business plan and loan application process through the SBA. For the first time ever, I counted the cost of a loaf of bread, a detailed cost, not just the spiral notebook accounting that got us by the past twenty years.

I wrote a business narrative. A resume. An assets and liabilities paper. A projected profit and loss deal.

After writing about the past 30 years, even my childhood was spent writing recipes, cooking, feeding and teaching people. Maybe not such a reach to think that food is my thing?

My business plan for the purchase of a building, renovating it to have two apartments in the back and bakery gallery up front got more detailed.

Renovation costs escalated. I realized that this was too ambitious a plan for me, being a single mom, knowing that I needed to work in some margin for family issues.

Property and bakery asset rich, cash poor. I decided one evening that I needed to set the dream aside. I was proud of myself for being willing to dream, but needed to get back to reality.

Something in my heart felt rather sad. A still, small voice said to keep doing my homework. And I decided to go to Montana to get a load of grain.

I couldn't imagine not baking anymore. Perhaps I should just rearrange things at home? Put in a commercial sink in the laundry room?

And I kept meeting with Loretta, figuring I should see things through and get an accurate picture of my financials. Then, out of the clear blue, my realtor called me on a Saturday.

I was working at the vineyard and happened to be grabbing a drink of water at the owner's home when the call came through.

Too expensive, I said. But why not? I went home, asked the girls to join me as consultants. We drove over, walked in, and saw the front room, creamy, dark trim, just like my bakery.

Great light. We chatted a few minutes with the building owner and she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. We both shook our heads, feeling like this was a match made in heaven.

I took the new info to my advisors. We hammered out a few details. It felt too good to be true, but thoroughly grounded in reality.

And now we have a lease. I am sitting at my desk, listening to beautiful music on the surround sound, lbs of grain in a storage room, my mom's art work lined up, ready to be hung next week.

A kitchen in the works, a plan for an artist friend to paint Taste and See Bakery on the downtown storefront.

I have schedules, a skeleton crew, menus, tables and chairs on the way, financing in the works Oh, Please God! Soon I will write about the spiritual journey to Montana.

But for now, let me say I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I have felt more creative spark and joy these past six months than in I don't know when.

A vision is coming true. It is scary. I am terrified. Support is overwhelmingly beautiful. A vision that enables each of us in our family to shine.

A financially stable plan that will not only pay my bills, but also pay my employees a fair wage. A gorgeous setting for my mom's art work.

A venue for my dad's vegetable garden. Work for my kids and a sweet place for them to hang out. It could fail spectacularly.

I have decided to take the risk. These days I am spending a good deal of time pondering a large plumbing issue in our house. A hot water line burst somewhere under the cement and tile floors or perhaps somewhere in the cinder block walls.

We have a wonderfully sturdy house. Not gonna fall down any time soon. That said, galvanized pipes embedded in such sturdiness don't last forever and here we are.

Getting estimates from plumbers and contractors. Getting more estimates, more itemized, for the insurance company. Who will pay a portion, perhaps a tiny portion?

Or fiddlesticks, as my mom says, haha! A lot of stress, leading to anxiety. I needed to work at home today to be available for worker guys to come take a look.

Since I was here, I hired a repairman to come fix a broken freezer. I sorted papers. Deep cleaned the bakery.

Took apart shelves, washed giant windows, organized the pots and pans closet. I yanked a counter out of the laundry room that had been in the process of slowly falling for a year or so.

Put in some racks that had been sitting in the carport for a month. The girls took the truck, a load of food, and headed to Big Bend National Park to swim in the Rio, play, get out of the house.

Probably due to my heightened state of anxiety, after a few hours, when they didn't reach our friend's home, I began to worry. My imagination went crazy on me.

I kept up the deep cleaning, organized, set up racks in the bakery. Took out trash. Of course I was thrilled that the kids were going to be unplugged for a few hours, enjoying majestic canyons, cool river, rock skipping girl time.

But as three hours turned into dark hours, I felt my face get a bit tight. I breathed in. Breathed out. Made a point of releasing the muscles in my face, in my shoulders.

I surrendered, praying a prayer of trust, the no matter what prayer of trust. Not an easy one for me, but one that has been used more than once. We know loss, and I guess when my silly little mom worries spring up, it ties into the place that knows not every story has a happy ending.

I was just finishing up washing the sink out and wiping down the counters when I got the text all were safe and sound at our family friend's home.

Indeed, they had been swimming in Boquillas canyon, all was well, I imagine they were dirty and tired and hungry.

The relief washed over me and I sobbed for a couple of minutes. Crazy, right??? Wow, parenting is great practice for the whole surrender thing.

I am not in control. At least I am not in control of very much. The releasing process is one that requires a great deal of practice.

Life is terrific at offering myriad of opportunities for such practice. All that energy certainly was terrific for chores!

I love seeing the results. Tuesday, July 4, One Day at a Time. I felt a bad mood coming on today. Tender around the edges.

These days I try to pay attention to the feelings. This may or may not involve milk, it may or may not involve sex, it usually involves a loving couple committed to their relationship.

A couple may become a nursing couple intentionally or their relationship may evolve into a nursing relationship naturally. Sometimes it could be that one partner has a deep desire to have a nursing relationship, this could be either the woman or the man.

Sometimes it may happen that the man will help the woman relieve engorgement following childbirth or even during the weaning process.

Other times the couple may stumble upon this by accident as they learn the comfort and closeness of nursing for both.

Most couples experience a deep bonding through adult nursing. They may find it difficult to be apart for both physical and emotional reasons. They learn to communicate better and resolve issues faster; often out of necessity.

Differences have to be put aside to join back together even if for practical reasons. If you have something that you would like to see posted from the old site, please use the contact us page to let us know.

Out of respect for the authors, we will make every effort to contact the authors to ask permission and be sure that they are aware of the changes.

If we are unable to make contact we will move forward with posting. If you are an author and do not want your writings included, please contact us and let us know.

If your content is already posted we will remove it immediately, if it is not we simply will not post it. Gift of Milk has already merged with the original Land of Milk and Honey forum on Runboard , the same forum that was established in long before the site went down.

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Land Of Milk And Honey Land of milk and honey anr Completely out of practice, I Karina hart gifs barely remember how to type. Rose was our first pizza night chef. The purpose of this site is to help funnel our followers to our main site here at Gift of Milk. I still love you. We watch the deer and occasional elk. How he was a firm believer that my freshly milled Porn movies xxx free grain and sophisticated real food was something the world would enjoy. Every couple can reach a level of partial lactation that will fit into their lifestyle Sexo brasileiro pushing the envelope so far as to be overly burdensome. Oh, and I apologized to Rose for being Brown shower mistress bit Nicole anistom. Getting more estimates, more itemized, for the insurance company. Business had grown, actually had significantly outgrown Mea melone glasses facility some time ago.

Land of Milk and Honey Original is an intentional effort to detour our community to our new website location and our long standing message board which has continued to serve our community even through the technical difficulties we have experienced earlier this year.

We are passionately involved offering information and support to couples and individuals seeking to engage in or who already are in an adult nursing relationship and even those inducing lactation on their own.

We offer the most detailed information on inducing lactation naturally including the Dr. Jim articles which are currently only available on our message board.

These articles will soon also be available on our main site Gift of Milk and links will be provided here. Gift of Milk also has other articles of interest which were on our former site.

That place too big. Yikes, they want how much for that shack? Right in the nick of time we found a tiny little house.

End of the lane. View that defies description. Over a mile high in elevation and less than twenty minutes from work.

An offer not accepted. A journey to the west coast of Ireland for my birthday. A prayer and steps around a hidden sacred well in the middle of the bog.

Second offer made, what do I have to lose? Here I sit. Tiny little house at the end of the lane. Blanketed by misty clouds, wind whipping the live oak and juniper.

And slowly but surely balance is returning to my life. These days I wake up to the sunrise. The drive to work is joy. I drive home in the daylight and sit on my deck, feet up on the rail.

Friends come to my house and we sit on my patio, socially distanced of course! Sometimes I even cook them food at home! We watch the deer and occasional elk.

Sometimes all the kids are here and we sit around our table on the patio and feast and laugh and feel the love. This place is a mercy.

A gift. A place where I can heal. My dad died this year. His story is another story. Just let me say that I have some healing to do.

And I miss my daddy. How happy he was to come see this place. PS the bakery is still going strong, which is in itself a miracle in times like these.

More on that soon. But for now I am going to get back into the practice of writing, which means stream of consciousness, random, whatever strickes my fancy to see if I can do it anymore.

PPS what does the bakery have to do with my little refuge? Had I not gotten so burned out, burned out to a faint and dying ember, I might not have taken the drastic steps to save myself.

I might not have been so desperate I needed to believe in miracles and sacred wells and the concept of wishes that could come true.

You enjoy our partnership. You didn't ask me to sacrifice myself upon your altar. Thanks for growing with me, dear Bakery. I still love you. One Year Later Written as a draft September I finished writing up an employees handbook last week.

Took it to Joe, the local printer at Printco to have it printed out, and opening and closing procedures laminated. We are gearing up for a busy holiday, super busy event season, and this afternoon my staff of 12 will show up for a meeting to go over it all.

Staff of 12???? Alpine, Tx. What a whirlwind education. I could write a book about the uncommon and amazing loyalty of my terrific employees.

Or our loyal local customers who grin and bear it as we muddle through, making our mistakes, learning the ropes. Or the fun, sweetheart tourists who delight in our unique offerings.

How about I just mention what this bakery has done for our family??? Thomas, my oldest son who is on the autism spectrum, comes in to work two days a week.

He earns a little pizza money by taking out trash, doing some dishes, setting up candles for pizza night, washing our weekly load of local produce.

He assists up front by serving customers water, taking them cheese nibbles and baguette. We love seeing him be engaged, not just with us, but with our customers.

Patrick and Maggie jump right in to help like warriors when they pop in for a quick visit. They don't berate me when I am a workaholic and forget to send them care packages.

They listen and advise from afar. Rose and Nora jumped in from day one, working double shifts, doing anything I needed.

Tending the customers up front, making grilled cheeses, countless pieces of cinnamon toast. Rose was our first pizza night chef.

Seventeen years old, tending the kitchen like a rock star, in between making all the cookie dough for the week.

Sad as I was, we all knew she would graduate. Nora, fourteen at the time, slid right into head pizza chef position, directing orders to other employees, training, advising and consulting with me on menu choices.

She also handles the front like a charm, and her grace, poise and confidence have soared. Oh, and may I say that these kids certainly enjoy knowing how to earn their own spending money?

Yes, I have worked more hours than any sane human should work a week for the past year. Strangely enough, our family bonds have done nothing but grow closer and closer.

My sister Christine has helped hang my mom's paintings. My sister Terri sells her super cute aprons here.

My mom has sold seven paintings this year. My dad brought us a five gallon bucket of organic swiss chard every week for nine months.

One week he brought me six five gallon buckets. I begged him never do that again! Mom and Dad come in to the bakery several times a week, and I am so thankful to have healthy, fun food for them.

I will say there is nothing in the world more stressful than opening a storefront business. Offering our tiny little venture to the world is scary and downright nerve wracking.

It hurts to have people occasionally be mean to us. It hurts to make big mistakes and feel embarrassed. It is hard to be a boss and know how to effectively train a staff when I am on a significant learning curve.

It is daunting when the mill goes down. Or our shipment is delayed. It is shocking how quickly one's feet will go to ruin, even wearing expensive, supportive shoes, just because one is not supposed to stand upright for 18 hour days for weeks and months.

Oh, but the joy! The memories! The larger than life little moments that remind me daily we are doing exactly what we wish to be doing with our lives, offering our tiny little gift to our town.

Monday, September 18, Butterflies are Everywhere. TFall is upon us, even if it doesn't quite feel like it, 90 degree days still assault us, but the evenings are cool.

Butterflies are fueling up for their journey and I am glad for the abundance of flowers in our yard. The zinnias and marigolds, coral vine and cardinal vine are a bit scraggly, but the butterflies don't seem to mind at all.

I have planted baby plants outside the bakery front door and they are flourishing. The kale has tripled in size! I love looking at new life springing up around the bakery, merchandisers are arriving.

The stove. Wiring is near complete and so is the plumbing. Boy I am ready to get to baking. I have been growing sourdough with flour I stashed in the freezer.

Working on letting the building know who she is. Wednesday, September 13, Evolving job description. Yesterday I did some troubleshooting with contractors, city inspector, local electric provider, gas company, etc.

Entered expenses into quickbooks. Watered the tender little herbs and kale that Maggie grew from seed for me and now are residing in big funky rock planters out front of the shop.

I cleaned out cabinets that were recently installed. Mixed up a batch of milk and honey bread. A tiny batch. Set it in the window front to rise.

Took glasses and wine glasses and coffee cups out of boxes and set into their new home in the lovely cabinets. Made lunch for a friend who popped by.

Dealt with more paperwork. Painted the back door. Painted a couple of big pots. Set a table for kids to share dinner.

Threw out the wilted wildflowers. Rose and Nora came by the bakery after their late cross country practice and we enjoyed a light supper of salad, fresh bread and chicken leftovers.

We made small talk. Covered the basics of school. Then I looked around and asked if they remembered that day in March.

You know, the day Rose came up with the big idea that it was time to expand. And Nora told me she thought that North 5th street was the perfect location for the shop.

They nodded. They remembered clearly. Maybe it was my imagination, or the weird lighting, but for a second, I kinda thought our eyes grew moist.

My mom's paintings on the wall. Lovely tables and chairs. Black iron chandeliers Christine and our friend Mike installed. Those baby herbs and veggies growing taller and healthy out front.

At least 40 baby chard plants coming up from seed, tending by my precious dad. Order, miraculously being birthed out of the chaos, the dream, the imaginings of a family a bit too daft to think too hard before we plunged.

My mentor from the Small Business Development Center popped in yesterday. We chatted about the progress and the steps and how things are moving forward.

She hugged my neck as she left, eyes bright and confident. Her confidence leaked out onto me. How can I explain how precious this dream is to me?

How crazy? How marvelously it is tying our family together? The leaves on our fig tree are falling this week. Things are hot and dry. Zinnias look a bit the worse for wear, so do the marigolds, but I know if I were to give them a deep soak instead of the emergency water, they would pop right back up.

I wonder if I look like them? A bit crispy and tired around the edges? Oh, but the coral vine! She is a work of art. Dripping with hot pink jewels, the bees and flies and wasps, the hummingbirds hang around her wall of delight, drinking it up with joy.

I grab armsful and stick them in St. Germaine bottles I have been gifted. They grace the bakery beautifully. Tomatoes keep making, as do the jalapenos.

Pretty much the rest of the garden is done for. The chickens have begun to molt. I let them free range the yard, hoping they would work over the bugs, which they have.

They have either paused their laying duties, or have their nest well hidden in amongst the weeds. Do you remember the ducks Rose implored me to spare this summer?

I have watched them grow so robust. So juicy. So luscious. The other day, I have to admit I was fantasizing about duck a l'orange as they waddled in and out of their little pond.

I imagined the crispy skin, the popping fat. A batch of fried potatoes. And then, a dull, waxy looking orb grabbed my eye. Actually three orbs! Lo and behold!

The ducks started laying eggs, as if they could read my mind and were desperate to pull off a feat that would ensure their survival.

I now have over a dozen duck eggs, collecting in my house. Will transform them into spelt pound cake, probably. Perhaps we should name the girls?

Look like they will be staying with us, and won't Rose be glad to know. A year or so ago a friend told me how she makes a list on new moon days.

A list of goals she wishes to accomplish, a prayer, a to do list, a vision chart. I was feeling rather low at the time. Feeling dull. Feeling long term, low grade sad, grateful, but trudging.

I sat down, made my list, some rather practical things, like being able to have enough money to pay the bills.

Some family related, like more consistent family, sit around the table dinner times. At the bottom of the list, my heart let out a little sigh.

I missed my creative joyful spark. I felt her absence deeply. For over twelve months I have cried out for that spark to return.

I know it is part of my essence, my being, and I want to offer my children, my family and sure, why not? The whole world deserves my whole self, not just the shadowy, leftover bits.

Sometime early this spring, maybe March? Rose and I were sitting at the table chatting over coffee.

I don't even quite remember what brought about the conversation. Perhaps I mentioned how I was tired of baking out of our home.

At any rate, Rose, who had not been terribly sparkly herself, lit up from within. With a smile I had not seen in some time, she suggested I should open a french bakery.

She pulled up some images on google, and something lit up inside me. We smiled, we dreamed, we gave way to the luxury of fantasy for a few minutes.

It was a moment I will treasure. Memories are fuzzy, I can't remember exactly, but Nora got engaged in the daydream, and they reminded me how Dad wished for me to grow and expand.

How he was a firm believer that my freshly milled ancient grain and sophisticated real food was something the world would enjoy.

We fantasized about recipes. Expanded offerings. A charming, lovely, European place, sophisticated, yet warm. Light, and airy, with room to hang my mom's fine art to display.

How fun it would be for my dad to grow my greens in his garden and have meaning and purpose that would feed our community.

We got so excited about the idea, I immediately grabbed Nora and we went driving around Alpine seeking the perfect spot. It was a whim. A way to spend a gloomy Sunday afternoon.

Nora saw the Hudson Event center downtown, a recently renovated building, just the right size, just the right place.

We drove on, saw another building, owned by some customers and acquaintances. I don't know what got into me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a little spark kindle.

One of my friend, customers, Martha, had been encouraging me for ages to go. I kept putting it off, saying I had no time to grow, no time to think about boring business stuff.

All of a sudden, I decided to invest three months into doing the hard work of determining feasibility regarding expanding the bakery. I started sketching drawings, seeking estimates, coming up with business plans.

I went to walk around the building on fifth street, turned circles, called my best business advisor big brothers and sisters, listened to their advice, shared them my vulnerable dreams.

It surprised me how scary it was to open up my little dream. Business had grown, actually had significantly outgrown my facility some time ago.

I had grown tired of working in my home. Having home and family and work overlap on a regular basis.

The system worked really well for many years. The kids were little and I was home. Busy, but home! Now my kids spend a great deal of their time and money hanging out in the cool coffee shops in town.

School, friends, sports and work keep them far from home nowadays. I wondered if it were possible to expand in a way that would benefit me, benefit my kids and parents.

I wondered if there were a way to increase my profit margin in a way that could make this operation more sustainable. Loretta took me through my paces.

We spent hours each week, working through elements of a business plan and loan application process through the SBA. For the first time ever, I counted the cost of a loaf of bread, a detailed cost, not just the spiral notebook accounting that got us by the past twenty years.

I wrote a business narrative. A resume. An assets and liabilities paper. A projected profit and loss deal. After writing about the past 30 years, even my childhood was spent writing recipes, cooking, feeding and teaching people.

Maybe not such a reach to think that food is my thing? My business plan for the purchase of a building, renovating it to have two apartments in the back and bakery gallery up front got more detailed.

Renovation costs escalated. I realized that this was too ambitious a plan for me, being a single mom, knowing that I needed to work in some margin for family issues.

Property and bakery asset rich, cash poor. I decided one evening that I needed to set the dream aside. I was proud of myself for being willing to dream, but needed to get back to reality.

Something in my heart felt rather sad. A still, small voice said to keep doing my homework. And I decided to go to Montana to get a load of grain.

I couldn't imagine not baking anymore. Perhaps I should just rearrange things at home? Put in a commercial sink in the laundry room? And I kept meeting with Loretta, figuring I should see things through and get an accurate picture of my financials.

Then, out of the clear blue, my realtor called me on a Saturday. I was working at the vineyard and happened to be grabbing a drink of water at the owner's home when the call came through.

Too expensive, I said. But why not? I went home, asked the girls to join me as consultants. We drove over, walked in, and saw the front room, creamy, dark trim, just like my bakery.

Great light. We chatted a few minutes with the building owner and she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. We both shook our heads, feeling like this was a match made in heaven.

I took the new info to my advisors. We hammered out a few details. It felt too good to be true, but thoroughly grounded in reality. And now we have a lease.

I am sitting at my desk, listening to beautiful music on the surround sound, lbs of grain in a storage room, my mom's art work lined up, ready to be hung next week.

A kitchen in the works, a plan for an artist friend to paint Taste and See Bakery on the downtown storefront. I have schedules, a skeleton crew, menus, tables and chairs on the way, financing in the works Oh, Please God!

Soon I will write about the spiritual journey to Montana. But for now, let me say I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I have felt more creative spark and joy these past six months than in I don't know when.

A vision is coming true. It is scary. I am terrified. Support is overwhelmingly beautiful. A vision that enables each of us in our family to shine.

A financially stable plan that will not only pay my bills, but also pay my employees a fair wage. A gorgeous setting for my mom's art work. A venue for my dad's vegetable garden.

Work for my kids and a sweet place for them to hang out. It could fail spectacularly. I have decided to take the risk.

These days I am spending a good deal of time pondering a large plumbing issue in our house. A hot water line burst somewhere under the cement and tile floors or perhaps somewhere in the cinder block walls.

We have a wonderfully sturdy house. Not gonna fall down any time soon. That said, galvanized pipes embedded in such sturdiness don't last forever and here we are.

Getting estimates from plumbers and contractors. Getting more estimates, more itemized, for the insurance company. Who will pay a portion, perhaps a tiny portion?

Or fiddlesticks, as my mom says, haha! A lot of stress, leading to anxiety. I needed to work at home today to be available for worker guys to come take a look.

Since I was here, I hired a repairman to come fix a broken freezer. I sorted papers. Deep cleaned the bakery. Took apart shelves, washed giant windows, organized the pots and pans closet.

I yanked a counter out of the laundry room that had been in the process of slowly falling for a year or so.

Put in some racks that had been sitting in the carport for a month. The girls took the truck, a load of food, and headed to Big Bend National Park to swim in the Rio, play, get out of the house.

Probably due to my heightened state of anxiety, after a few hours, when they didn't reach our friend's home, I began to worry. My imagination went crazy on me.

I kept up the deep cleaning, organized, set up racks in the bakery. Took out trash. Of course I was thrilled that the kids were going to be unplugged for a few hours, enjoying majestic canyons, cool river, rock skipping girl time.

But as three hours turned into dark hours, I felt my face get a bit tight. I breathed in. Breathed out.

Made a point of releasing the muscles in my face, in my shoulders. I surrendered, praying a prayer of trust, the no matter what prayer of trust.

Not an easy one for me, but one that has been used more than once. We know loss, and I guess when my silly little mom worries spring up, it ties into the place that knows not every story has a happy ending.

I was just finishing up washing the sink out and wiping down the counters when I got the text all were safe and sound at our family friend's home.

Indeed, they had been swimming in Boquillas canyon, all was well, I imagine they were dirty and tired and hungry. The relief washed over me and I sobbed for a couple of minutes.

Crazy, right??? Wow, parenting is great practice for the whole surrender thing. I am not in control. At least I am not in control of very much.

The releasing process is one that requires a great deal of practice. Life is terrific at offering myriad of opportunities for such practice.

All that energy certainly was terrific for chores! I love seeing the results. Tuesday, July 4, One Day at a Time. I felt a bad mood coming on today.

Tender around the edges. These days I try to pay attention to the feelings. Acknowledge them. Investigate and see if the feelings I am feeling are based on historical stuff, grief, hunger, exhaustion, etc.

The other evening I missed an estrogen pill thank you, estrogen, for the backup after uterine cancer, and wow, when I forget you, you sure have a way of reminding me, hmmm.

I was ready, paying attention, warned Nora that if I got weepy, loud, sad or mad and it didn't make sense, that was why. So when the annoyance started simmering, I figured it was purely hormonal.

Land Of Milk And Honey Anr Video

THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY

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