Is there a topic that I like even less to write about? Or even worse . . . talk about?
(I’m thinking, I’m thinking.) The answer, Gentle Reader, is a resounding and heartfelt and contrary “No.“
Ask me about my lovely and talented kids or my gorgeous and perfect grandchildren, or my current chicken conunudrum, or how my new Icelandic chicken experiment is going, or what I’ve got growing in my garden (gotta minute? I’ll take you on a tour!) or how the melodrama is coming along, and I’ll talk until you wish that I would quit.
But talk about myself? Not so much. I don’t like being the center of attention. I’d rather write a story than tell one. I’m not very articulate in person, and I’m always insecure about how my hair looks. *sigh*
However. Since you’re here, anyway–perhaps I owe you a brief (but modest) introduction *yawn* to a few things moi. If you’re bored already, I won’t blame you for clicking out. There are surely more interesting things for you to read. Shakespeare. Jane Austen.
The cereal box. You know.
My name is Amy, and I am the wife to Bryan, and the mother to six smart-alecky children, ranging in ages from ten years old to the mid-twenties. I’m the proud grandma of the Four Most Amazing Babies in the World. I live on a few windy acres outside a small town in Nebraska, and I teach my children at home. We raise chickens, ducks, and geese, and have an impressive array of house pets, as well. I’m trying to talk my good husband into raising a few homestead hogs *fingers crossed*. I think a few goats would be a good idea, too, to keep the grass down, at least.
We produce a good quantity of our own food, with a large garden and a small orchard, bee hives, hazelnut bushes, berry bushes and brambles. We plant a lot of trees, too, just because we love to do that. I’m an artist and a writer and a musician. I love to dance. Also I love to draw old houses, dead things, and Nebraska landscapes.
And my children. Natch’.
I’m a Jesus follower, and I’m poignantly aware of how lost and depressed I’d be without Christ in the center of my life. I am blessed with a large and impressively creative and fun extended family, whom I am slavishly devoted to. I love to cook. I love pie.
I would rather be outside than inside, in any weather, at any time, for any reason. I am delighted by howling coyotes, star-gazing, climbing trees, snow, rain, spring, winter, and clapping my eyes on anything beautiful or unusual. I play the piano, the flute, and I’m teaching myself how to play the banjo.
Slowly. It is an eminently portable instrument, so I can sit outside to practice. 🙂 Which makes me happy. The neighbors, probably, not so much.
In the summertime, I spend most of my time outside: pruning, planting, picking, weeding, growing stuff, and drawing. In the wintertime, the kids and I hit the books and we all work together to produce a musical melodrama with a group of home school students in our area. So you can understand why I never get my house clean. Not that I really care all that much.
Cleaning house, to me, is nearly as boring as . . . well, as me.
There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? In fact it was easier than I thought it would be, but not as interesting as I’d hoped. Oh well. *sigh*
Thanks for joining me in my tiny little corner of the interwebs.
And hey, if ya wanna, sign up in the little box to the right to be on my email list, so you don’t miss a thing. I’m on all the social stuff, too. Let’s be friends, okay, and stay connected with each other. This is a purely selfish request, because I learn just as much from my gentle readers, I’m pretty sure, as they claim to learn from me.
Thanks, you all. I appreciate you guys and gals.