On Floyd Time

Drew used to call what we live on "Indian time" but since we live in Floyd now it's become "Floyd time." In other words nothing is on time, no one is in a hurry and things may get done today and they may not get done until next summer. Clearly this has become my approach to this blog as well.

Here are some highlights (or low points depending on how you look at them) since my last update:

Drew totaled our car. He's fine and we got a bigger Subaru which the dogs seem to be enjoying.

We found a "new home" for our rooster and adopted 4 more hens. They're a pretty multicultural group now. 



Both our dogs have had emergency vet trips. One of them has had 2 hip replacements and the other diagnosed with Lyme's. I spent this past Tuesday morning walking in a grassy patch beside of our vet while a male nurse chased after us trying to catch Dolly's pee in a metal pan. These are the moments that I think I should have my own reality TV show. I could be one year into a PhD program with what we have paid in vet bills since June.


I successfully stayed by myself without getting scared for the first time since living in Floyd.


I go back and forth between adoring my students and cursing them. Usually under my breath but when a fire drill went off in the middle of an awesome review game on Friday I cursed out loud which they seemed to thoroughly enjoy. Moments of "you changed my life, Mrs. Moore-Hubbard" and the creation of CD's for me called "Napoleon's pre-game mix tape" are closely followed by "which month comes after October?" and "wait, wasn't Martin Luther King our first black president?" That is why I go back and forth between thinking I will do this forever and I can't do it for one more day. My fickleness strikes again.


Speaking of which I might be ready to move. Thoughts on Asheville? Or Ireland? Those are the two leading contenders in our household right now. All that's stopping us is figuring out how to travel across the Atlantic with a couple of sick pups and a flock of multicultural hens?


Drew's the same. Thank God. There's not a fickle bone in his body. He's cutting wood all the time and skinny as a rail. He has taken to baking his own bread and he's become quite the coffee snob. The only bad thing about him is how much he wants me to be happy. Sounds crazy but whenever I come home saying "I want to make a living peddling eggs" or "Let's bring the chickens inside" he's always supportive but he's learning I sometimes need a strong hand which is why only one of the chickens has been inside and just for a minute....


I have the best of intentions of updating again soon.....