Header image: detail from Andrea Mantegna “Agony in the Garden” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota

I really have very little to complain about. I have a job, a home, a wonderful husband, good friends, reasonable children, my health, etc. There are some times, however, when stupid, annoying things happen to take all the fun out of life, and leave me disgusted and crabby and preoccupied. I am a natural worrier, and these annoying occurrences just fuel that worry and I have a hard time managing it.

February was one of those months. Early in the month we got a new credit card with the security chip, preparatory to our trip to Europe this spring. We had it a week when we heard from the company that it had been breached and there had been all sorts of suspicious charges and the card was deactivated. This was just before daughter was going to Washington, DC for spring break and was going to use the card on her travels. We only have one credit card, so when it is out of action, we are all out of luck. There wasn’t enough time to get a replacement card before she left for DC, but she managed with her debit card. Still, it left me fuming and fussing since we never had this happen before.

Our next issue happened the day before we were to leave for Sioux Falls for the weekend. I noticed that the freezer in our fridge was dripping water inside and the ceiling in the freezer was hot. We emptied the freezer and phoned the repair person. He told us it was not a problem and that it was defrosting itself and we had it too full, so we just took half the things out and it was fine. I worried about it the whole time we were in South Dakota. It is still working fine, but I think the compressor sounds louder than before, so now I worry it is going to break down some time soon.

Lastly, last week, the actuarial experts at State Farm miscalculated  and decided that my husband was a great risk and cancelled his car insurance. It was a total error on their part, but it will take a week or two to get all the correct information into their calculators so husband still has insurance at the end of the month. Honestly, if you can’t trust a statistician, who can you trust.

I read my words and I think, “Renee, you have nothing to complain about and many people have more serious and deadly things to worry about, so get over yourself”.  I wonder if  too many of us in this country don’t have enough gratitude for what we have, and that perhaps we need to stop expecting life to be trouble free.

Maybe that attitude accounts for the rise of demagogues like The Donald who speaks to that inside ourselves that puts us first and others second, and makes is believe that we are owed something just because we are who we are.

I read once that a martyrdom of pinpricks is still a martyrdom. Well, I have a working credit card, the freezer that is loud, but works, and an insurance company that admitted it is wrong. I need to realize that pinpricks will happen and they are nothing to let ruin my day.

What pinpricks ruin your day? 

Today’s post comes from Cynthia in Mahtowa

Once upon a time I had four pigs. They were wee things when they arrived, several hundred pounds when they left. I think I called all four of them “Peter Porkchop” to remind me why I was feeding them, Danish style, barley and milk. But while they lived on the farm, they were a delight and constant source of entertainment.

They shared the pasture with the several goats. The pasture, fenced with woven wire, did a good job of keeping them contained. But sometimes the gate between the horses and goats was left open and they were free to range into the (non)electric fenced area. So they took themselves for walks around the neighborhood. My neighbor, sitting on the ground, painting her garage doors, was startled to find the four at that time very large pigs staring at her.

The first time I took the new piglets for a walk in the woods with the goats, I learned that they would not stay with me and the goats, but instead wandered off on their own. And they did not return with us. A friend stopped by to see them that afternoon. When I told her I didn’t know where they were, she was astounded and wondered why I wasn’t out looking for them. I allowed as how there was 40 acres of woods and where would I start? “I figure they’ll come home at feeding time.” And so they did. Around 4:30 that afternoon here they came romping across the horse pasture. So I learned they always would return home.

But my favorite story about the four little now big pigs is this: They loved being in the goat barn, but as they got bigger there wasn’t room for them and the goats, so I would lock them out at night to sleep in their own shelter. When I opened the goat door in the morning, the pigs would rush in, grab mouthfuls of hay and race over to their shelter. Then I noticed they would run down to the woods and bring back sticks in their mouths. It made me think of the folk tale “The Three Little Pigs” and the houses they built. So…straw, twigs…my pigs were “building” two out of the three houses. Then one day I noticed one of them running around with a salt block in his mouth….ah, the house of bricks was now being built!

And I was the big bad wolf who had them for dinner….

And painted a portrait…which I sold to a woman in New York City where I hope Peter Porkchop lives on.

What folk tale have you seen play out in your life?

Today’s post comes from Jim Tjepkema

I have been keeping in touch by Facebook with a friend from Bulgaria.   He posts all kinds of information about Bulgaria on Facebook including the You Tube video found below.  This video about village life in Bulgaria reminded me of the villages I visited there as an agricultural volunteer.   I visited in person with a number of people who had a life style similar in many ways to the couple shown in the video.

Many of the Bulgarians living in the villages I visited own livestock, although they might not have as many animals as you see in the video.   Farms, like the one shown, are located in Bulgarian rural villages and are not scattered around the countryside as they are in our country.  Even farms larger than the one shown seem to operate out of farmsteads situated in villages.  When I was in Bulgaria they were trying to recover from their years behind the Iron Curtain when all the people who owned farms were forced to give up their land and work at cooperative farms.  However, during the Russian occupation people in the villages were allowed keep small plots of land and small numbers of livestock to provide themselves with food.

In the video you see the sheep return to the homestead for the evening.   I suspect that the sheep had been taken out to pasture by a herdsman from the village that looks after the livestock of the villagers during the day.  I saw villagers going to meet their livestock that was brought back to the town in the evening by someone who had been watching them during the day.   During the day I saw livestock being tended by shepherds as they grazed in open fields along the roads.

Apart from the sheep, some other livestock are shown that are being cared for including a donkey.  That donkey is probably used to pull a cart.   I saw people using donkey carts the way we would use a car or a truck, although some families did own cars and trucks.   The sausage, wine, and fermented cabbage shown in video were probably all products of the farm.   I think I was served homemade wine at every village home I visited.  Also, in many homes, I saw wood burning cook stoves like the one used by that older couple.

Village people in Bulgaria live much the same way small farmers lived in this country many years ago.  Most of the occupants of the villages are older.  Some are young, although it seems that many of the younger ones have moved to big cities.   As I listen to the campaign speeches of some of our Presidential candidates, I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off living in a Bulgarian village producing my own food and wine.  I believe that many places like the one shown in the video are now for sale because the older generation of people living in those places is dying off and the younger ones are moving to big cities.

If you decided you no longer want to live in the USA, where would you go?