how much is enough?…


The Euro-Chic look with my Mom.

Have you ever thought, “How much is enough?”. What does it mean to have enough of anything? The opposite of course is not having enough. Sounds pretty simple right? But who says when something is enough? And what about having too much? Is there such a thing as too much? I say definitely yes. For years I lived it.  A bit of excess never hurt anyone. Not really… “It’s not that expensive. It is the last one I need to complete my collection. I’ll wear it for years. I deserve it because I work hard for my money and I should get to enjoy it.” I’ve uttered all these phrases to myself at one time or another. Going from being a girl with an over sized walk-in closet stuffed full of clothes, shoes and accessories to being a girl able to carry everything she owns in a carry-on suit case has given me a little perspective on how much is enough. I’ve learned how little I really need to get by.

Most of you know my home burned in July and I have been working though some feelings on dealing with the loss of my family home. I finally opened up about it in my last entry (where there is fire…). I haven’t felt like writing which really bites cause I was really enjoying sharing bits and pieces of my self with you dear reader. Tonight I feel there is something to say so bear with my feeble attempt at story telling.

Where was I? Oh, yes. OK, so on the way to Bellingham we, the kids and I, took only carry-on bags. I figured we could pack lightly and do fine. After all we were staying with my family and would have access to a washer and dryer. Also who wants to dish out $20 per bag to check your luggage? Not this girl. I wanted all my money to spend on vacation.  The three of us made it through Dallas barely catching our connecting flight because of being given misinformation from an airline worker on connecting gates. It was an honest mistake but it freaked out my kids because we were literally the last people to board the plane. At the gate we were told the over head bins were completely full and the airline workers took our bags saying we would have them returned to us when we landed in Seattle. Each of us was handed a little upc looking sticker matching the ones they placed on our “unchecked” bags. (Do you see where this is going?) When we disembarked upon arrival in Seattle there were no bags awaiting us. We were instructed to go to the luggage claim to wait with the other passengers because our bags had been stowed with theirs. We did so. No bags ever came down the shoot for us. Another airline employee took us to a nondescript office and collected information on where we would be staying. We received apologies for the mix up and were told our bags were going to be on the next flight coming in to Sea-Tac and they would get them to us in Bellingham. It didn’t happen for three days. For the next two days the kids and I  made do with what we each had in our purse/backpacks. I will say that my wonderful sister-in-law came up with some cute t-shirts for Emma and I to borrow. We did indeed take advantage of the laundry facilities at their house! I got a taste of what it was really like to not have much of anything over the next couple days. I refused to buy make up. I did buy a toothbrushes. I borrowed some pj’s since I was sharing a room with my daughter and cousin, I  would have felt weird running  around in my skivvies. I had some lip gloss, a brush, my hat, and some cash, a white t-shirt and black ankle length pants, and flats. I made it work.

Day 2 of vacation wasn’t spent worrying too much with the predicament. Mom, my sis-in-law and I headed to LaConnor to do some site seeing. We had a wonderful day. I had borrowed a cool multi layered black sleeveless tee and told stated I was going for a euro chic look by dressing in all black and sporting minimal makeup and my oversized black sunglasses. By day 3 I was getting tired of the same clothes and the need for fresh ones was wearing (pun intended) on me. My irritation growing, I called the airline for the fourth time. I did some complaining while still trying to be nice. After all it wasn’t the rep’s fault our bags were lost. I think having a southern accent may  have helped a tad because a little side conversation discussing my said accent and how far we had travelled to get to Bellingham came up during the online/over the phone baggage search. The rep, Grace, was so apologetic and kind. She got approval from her boss and issued us a promissory note $125 per person for clothing and toiletries. SWEET! The kids were stoked.  We went to the Bellingham Mall as any responsible family would to do our part to keep the economy healthy.  So we were shopping on day 4 when I got the call that our luggage had finally made it to the airport. I found the timing a bit ironic.

It was such a relief to have our carry ons. Let me tell you the 3 pair of pants, 4 shirts, 2 shorts, dress, denim jacket, pajama set, undies, 4 pair of shoes along with my workout leggings/tee and my blessed toiletries really were all I needed. I remembered wishing for a bit more room in order to pack a robe but aside from that I was satisfied with my packing efforts. I was clothed and groomed for the remainder of the trip.  I had enough. Even when we got word the house had burned and all our stuff along with it I had enough clothes to make it through the work week upon our return home, even if it meant a trip to the hotel laundry mid-week. The rest would sort its self out eventually.

daisies, coffee and chocolates,


where there is fire…

They say life is stranger than fiction. I concur.

When last I wrote my kids and I were vacationing in the Pacific Northwest and having a great time. We went to the market in Seattle, saw the country side in and around Bellingham, spent much-needed time catching up with family and even managed to get in some whale watching. It was one of the best and dare I say most comfortable vacations I’ve ever been on.

Thank you to my brother and sis-in-law for being the best hosts ever!

Everything was lovely until 12:03 am on 7/7/15. I received a phone call…my home was on fire. I was in shock and a little disbelieving. I wanted confirmation. It didn’t seem possible that my beloved family home was burning to the ground and I was in Washington helpless to do anything about it. A video was taken on a phone and sent to me. I could see the second story was outlined clearly by the tall flames shooting out from the roof. I woke my brother up and shortly the rest of the house was up too. We were helpless to do anything. The fire fighters were working as best they could. I was later told the house was gone in minutes. While I stood in my brothers living room feeling all was lost I remembered that my God had this. So, I took just a minute and stepped out on the deck to pray. I thanked God that my family was safe. We were all safe in Washington. It was all I could think to say.

The Farm. Winter 2012.

The Farm. Winter 2012.

This farm house was more than just a place to live. It was a place of refuge in my times of trouble. It represented the love of family, safety and security.  I healed wounds there more than once. The Farm served as my family’s base. Imagine the Kennedy’s at their Hyannis Port compound, now move it about 2,300 miles to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma and drop it smack dab in the middle of sixty acres, take away the wealth and the ocean and you have the Davis Farm. Ok, drop the glamor too. But seriously, my memories and my roots run deep here.  Dad ran cattle on the land until he retired from farming long after he had retired from a career in Plant Management. Mom despite working full-time up until her retirement,  still found time to cooked Sunday dinners every week.  The dining room sported a huge table that could get all the adults (9) around it for dinner and a smaller able in the “little dining” room for the kids. My Nanny taught me to make her chicken and dumplings’ in the kitchen. My nephew who is now 22 years old came home from the hospital as a new-born to The Farm. Christmas was here every year along with the other major holidays. There were Memorial Day BBQ’s, Family Reunions, Wedding Receptions, Halloween parties and lots of birthday parties. I have a big family and with big families comes a lot of celebrating. Lots of food and sitting around after dinner talking. I was so glad when all the grandkids were officially old enough to do the dishes after dinner. That blessed event got me and my sis-in-law off the hook. Dishes for 13 people, no thank you. LOL.  The Farm is responsible for “afancyfarmgirl”. It’s part of my identity.

I loved this place. I miss it. It feels like a part of me is gone. Part of my history is gone.

The Farm established 1992

The Farm established 1992

I don’t miss my stuff. Not really. Stuff is just stuff. It can be replaced. I have a short list of “things” I miss.

1. My Gund Teddy bear Xavier. I’ve had him since I was 11.

2. My first Bible that Dad and Mom gave me. I had recently started carrying it to church again. Dad inscribed it with the following, “May His light burn bright in your life.” Christmas 1983

3. My children’s pictures. Once upon a time an avid scrapbooker. I did crazy elaborate scrapbook pages for my kids documenting their every move when they were small. Those books represent hours and hours of my life. So many memories.

Like I said it’s a short list.

Life goes on. WE are still here. I have what’s most important, MY FAMILY. Without them The Farm would have never held my heart the way it did.

My Family July 2015

My Family July 2015

There’s always something to be thankful for. Always.

Coffee, Daisies and Chocolates,