Morning Announcements:

37 days until the Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo! The 2nd Annual!!!! We now have FIVE GOATS!!!!

I’ll soon be sharing a “virtual beauty contest” with everyone so even if you can’t make it to the event - you can vote on your favorite goat.
Just waiting for all the photos and bios.

But first - a wedding. Love is in the air and we can’t wait to witness and celebrate alongside all the people who love Shawn & Mamie. ❤️❤️❤️

We keep hearing and saying we are divided.

What we say is what we think and start to believe.

We are united. We are Americans. We are strong and we are one.
Let’s say those things. Let’s say them so much it’s like oh yeah, yeah we know we are united and we are awesome.

I’m not saying we are the best. I’m not saying everyone wants to be us
in an ugly, arrogant way. That’s not us. That’s not the United States.

I believe the good outweighs the bad by a couple billion.
Not the other way around.

Share

I am not a political analyst (Thank GOODNESS) but I’m a citizen. I know we are divided politically but, and this is a HUGE BUT -
We we are more than our politics.

No matter who is leading the country - no matter who is president - we are united by a number of meaningful things:

We are a nation that steps up to help when the shit hits the fan. Our neighbors are there immediately with a chain saw, water, a power cord run from their generator and probably a casserole. That’s part of our culture.

Prayer chains. No matter your religious beliefs - prayer chains are powerful.

Music unites - have you been to a concert where everyone is singing along together? Thousands of you?

The Olympics bring us together alongside the world.

Our National Parks, state parks, rivers, campgrounds, mountains, beaches, backyards, farmland, cityscapes. This is a beautiful country.

We are problem solvers, inventors, fixers, optimists.

Those are all things I am proud of and that will not change.

I remind myself that our politics do not define us. I will not let it define me.
We are so much more.

Let’s keep looking for the good stuff.
Keep developing our goat eyes.
So that it becomes a habit. Where it’s easier to notice all the good, good shit happening everydamnwhere in this country.
Our country.

Thanks for being here!

Rusted buckets of love and goats coming at ya!

Subscribe now

What is being built? What is being practiced every day?

This part of Magdalena’s quote is unforgettable and has been revisited and written on my “message to self” list since June -
your brain…”does not respond to longing. It responds to repetition.” for - is easy - even addictive. Wishing, dreaming, longing. All require no effort. No action. Building is hard. There’s gonna be resistance - push back. Perhaps a stumble, some mistakes or starting over from scratch when we realize this is not what I really wanted.

I don’t replay one, single, worst case scenario. But “what’s the worst that can happen?” is the default. It is automatic.

Share

I’m training the wrong damn muscle.

I think I’m a positive person. That’s the story I tell myself.
But the reps I’m doing, what’s being practiced and repeated is not blazing or even clearing that trail. It’s putting down layer after layer of asphalt on the road to worry. I need an off ramp. A new interchange. Maybe you do too.

What phrase am I practicing? What do I want my brain rewired to automatically jump to when life is loud?

The book I’m writing, about the Golden Goat Award - is a how to guide.
A field manual. How to notice the good surrounding us everyday.
Practicing the art of noticing awesome and taking the next step to call it out.
If we see it, we gotta say it. I don’t want to waste the chance to let someone know they’ve made a difference - they were seen.

Rewiring the brain to look for what is stellar, delightful, superb or fandamntastic first - before noticing the shitshow.

That’s the rewiring I’m working on. It’s a heavy lift. The old road is well worn.

Currently rehearsing these lines:
What’s the best that could happen?
What if it all works out?

Thanks for being here.

Sending out rusted buckets of love and GOATS.

Take care.

Subscribe now

Morning Announcements

Tomorrow is World Goat Day - so it’s no surprise a giant chunk of this week’s newsletter is extremely Goat Forward.

The 2nd Edition of the Golden Goat Gazine will be at the Farmstand tomorrow and then available at Soviero’s and Tucker’s Grill in the next few days.
Let me know if you’d like your own private copy.

Summer is winding down, flowers are not as plentiful as in June and July but still they bloom. The hydrangeas are now transitioning to the pinkish stage and are stunning. They are selling well at the Farmstand and it tickles me to death that others - who I don’t meet or even catch a glimpse of - love them as I do.
The honor system is close to magic.
People are good. Humanity leans way into the side of good.

Fun goat facts:
Goats only have bottom teeth in front.

Goats are ruminants. Same as cows, sheep, deer, buffalo and giraffes!

Our human eyes can see 180-200 degrees. Goats see almost all the way around their bodies 320-340 degrees. Every direction except directly behind them.

They are “prey” animals. Horses are also prey animals. But the difference I’ve noticed is a horse will run away from me when they’re spooked or startled.

Goats - my beloved goats - run toward me when they’re scared. I’m their shepherd - the one who takes care of them. I feed the horse as many times as I feed the goats but he doesn’t think I’m his protector.

Thelma and Louise are twin does born February 9, 2023. When they moved in, they weren’t very tame. Neither had been handled very much. I spent an hour or so every day, just sitting in their stall or the pasture with them. It took a few weeks. Now when I sit with them Louise usually lays down beside me and sometimes puts her head on my leg or leans against me.
Be still my heart. ♥️🐐❤️

Thelma will snuggle up too - but Louise will run her off. She’s jealous and just plain bossy.

They butt heads often- like siblings do. But stand by if they get separated or can’t see each other - they holler and cry like babies. Pitiful. Hilarious.

They love dry rotini pasta and bananas as long as they are at exactly the correct ripeness and color - this changes daily. Watermelon, blueberries, carrots, tomatoes and apples are also faves.

Goats can be hired out for brush clearing. Not MY goats, but other goats.

Azaleas and rhododendrons are toxic to goats. On Easter Sunday 2023 Thelma gave us a scare. Thank goodness for great vets. Dr Fulton recognized the symptoms and gave her a couple shots and forced some charcoal down her throat to neutralize the poison. And it worked.

That was our introduction to the drama. Goats are dramatic. Seriously. When the vet gave Thelma that life saving shot, she screamed bloody murder while her back legs buckled. The vet said, “that’s a goat for ya.” It was ridiculous.
The epitome of a drama queen.

If it starts to rain - I’ll hear loud protesting and when I finally rescue them they run for the barn with their heads down like they’re being scalded.
Good grief.

But. I. Love. These. Damn. Goats.

If you are unable to have goats - I am so sorry for you. Cause they are pure joy and bring hilarity to my life. Three and a half years with these two and they have made me laugh out loud every one of those 1288 days.

And that’s my presentation for World Goat Day.

Keep Oct 10th on the calendar - it’s the 2nd annual Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo.
It’s a hoot. You’ll be entertained and well fed. It’s a fund raiser for the
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention to honor my brother,
Mike Daniel Caudle.

Let me know if you can make it so we’ll be sure to have enough BBQ and hay bales (for sitting).

Thanks for being here and playing along with my goat silliness.

Sending you rusted buckets of love - and GOATS.

Morning Announcements

~58 days until the Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo! Read about last year’s here!

~Rusted Bucket 🌼FarmStand continues to delight. The idea that people are visiting and buying flowers - anything - unbeknownst to me - is thrilling. I can’t see it from the house or the barn.
The honor system is spectacular. It works! It’s a beautiful thing.
We (us humans) are gonna be all right.

And now for our main event:

Does God have a desk?
It’s impossible to know how God lives, breathes and operates. My default is to imagine him living like me. But that’s not right.

There’s no way to picture God living life with schedules, daily chores, grocery shopping, or walking the aisles of Home Depot, looking for furnace filters. Booking an Alaskan cruise? Getting his drivers license renewed?

No. I don’t think so.
If I can’t relate or imagine or picture God, how in the world am I supposed to talk to God like a regular person?

“Pray like you are talking to a friend” they say.

So intimidating. Regular convos with the One who knows every deep dark secret - even the ones I forgot? The One who is aware of the times I needed to go straight instead of taking that bad left turn (so many many times) and still loves me completely?

Share

But I try. It feels authentic-er, real-er - than traditional prayer language heard in church. That feels like pure fakery when it crosses my lips.

I’m fairly confident the trick is to just keep praying. Not really a trick. A hack?
A prayer hack?
Just keep praying. God knows what’s going on inside my head - and my heart. He’s the only one.
Sometimes that is comforting.

It’s all about trying.

Like everything. Just keep trying. That’s where the magic happens. That’s faith.

Pull up the chair, by the desk, and have a conversation.

Thanks for being here. Take care of yourself.
I’m not a doctor. I don’t even play one on TV. But here’s some free advice that I shall also follow - today:
Drink some water. Go outside. Look up into the branches of a tree. Breathe.

Sending you rusted buckets of LOVE and goats.
See ya next week.

For your listening pleasure…..

Stand by for the main event, the thought for the week, or, what I like to call - what’s troubling Vikki. I really don’t talk about myself like that but - it’s funny - right?

Tree carnage. It’s happening all over the smallish town I live in. Explosive growth. Providing affordable housing is the priority and I can’t argue with that. It’s a need and tons of people want to live here - and for good, beautiful, reasons.

The alternative to explosive growth or plain ol growth - is death.
And I don’t want to live in a ghost town.

Share

But tens of thousands of trees have been bulldozed and mulched and ground down. Cleared completely. Nothing left. It can be depressing.

Carnage is making way for housing developments, apartments, a pipeline that is running through 3 counties, a handful of ginormous storage facilities, carwashes, hotels, grocery stores, restaurants and fast food joints.
All the things that go with explosive growth.

The trees are always sacrificed to make way for progress and growth.

Day 1
I just sat and watched Asplundh cut the tops off several trees to clear power lines. Their website says they operate in accordance with an arborist foundation or something like that. Whatever. Not sure I’d agree with their arborist.

After I shed some angry helpless tears - their bucket truck broke down and I thanked God for that little miracle.

But they will be back.

MF-ers.

Thanks for listening.

Day 2 of tree carnage on the farm. Yep, they’re back.

It started earlier than yesterday. It was a slow, sad, golf cart drive to the farmstand. As I was updating the price list, another tree trimming truck pulled in the driveway. Mr. Vicente climbed out and introduced himself. He told me what was on today’s agenda. They’d need to drive in the yard. He pointed to the two cherry trees - two of eight that line the driveway that mom planted 26 years ago - that would need to be trimmed to allow 15 ft around the power lines. There were some crabapples close to moms’ house that would need cutting too.

I told him it was hard to see these cut and he said he understood.

He was polite, thoughtful, and spoke kind words. Professional.
He made it better. Five percent better but I was way below negative yesterday.

Then the other guy working on more trees in the front of the house walked over and introduced himself and apologized for not talking to me yesterday. He said he’d take care of us and pointed to the trees across the road that were trimmed earlier this week - saying confidently and with a bit of pride, “see - we are going to cut them straight, and make them look good. And they’ll grow back. We’ll clean up all the mess this week too.”

It was obvious - his perspective isn’t the same as mine. He has a job to do and is providing a valuable service. We need electricity with no interruptions - ideally.
Storms, in combination with trees and branches can interfere with power lines.

Do you think employees are coached to say nice soothing things to people getting their trees cut? How often do they have to de escalate or calm a tree hugger? Is it standard operating procedure to say, we’ll make it look good - we’ll take care of you???

I hope so. That would mean they know how bad it sucks to have trees cut, trimmed, butchered by someone who wasn’t hired by me - the homeowner.

Cause none of those trees look good. Nope.

But just with that little interaction - human to human, professional tree trimmer to tree lover/hugger/steward - I felt 5% better. And that’s huge.

And now they are cleaning up what they cut. putting it through a mulcher.

I can be mad and sad about it. And I will. And I know there’s nothing I can do about it.

AND

There’s plenty of flowers blooming and birds singing.
I can plant trees.
The farmstand is a gift.
Cosmo’s new hobby is chasing butterflies. And he’s adorable.
The pumpkin vines are growing daily and
- we are all upright and healthy.

And we have a wedding to celebrate next month!
❤️ Shawn & Mamie! ❤️
This is the year Sam and Shawn both get to marry their person.
Being in love, building their lives together, stepping out as a couple - a team.

Life is good.
In spite of tree carnage.

Love wins.

Sending you rusted buckets of love - and goats.

Take care and thanks for being here.

There’s a smidge over 10 weeks - TEN WEEKS - until the next -
the Second Annual Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo.

We will have a ball! Fun for the whole daggone generation.

Lunch will be served!

Between now and then we have the following taskers to complete:

Invite 3-4 more goats to join us. Looking up names and addresses now.

Have a party for painting goat portraits on a 12x12 canvas with a musical chairs vibe.

Share

Daily meetings with Thelma and Louise. Do they still adore their walk on songs.? Thelma’s - So What by Pink. Louise - Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys. A butt-ton can change in a year. Friday walked on to Just a Girl by No Doubt. I’ll def schedule a zoom call with her and Kate soon.

Scheduling hoof trims and trying to talk them into a bath.

Do their bios need updating?

We are looking forward to more fun, silliness and nonsense for the
2nd Annual Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo.

The GBPR is a fundraiser for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) in honor of my brother Mike Daniel Caudle who died - March 1, 2021.

Donations will be accepted live and in person at the event or through this link Mike Daniel Caudle Memorial and QR code.

Thanks for being here!

Rusted Buckets of love and goats coming at ya.

See you next week.

Subscribe now

And it’s none of my beeswax.

My work is done.

I’ll be on the other side with zero cares and zero worries, chasing butterflies, making bouquets (pronounced buckets ) and herding goats.

Share

We all have one chance. Hopefully we’ll get mighty close to 80 summers (around 4200 weeks) to get this life - our one wild precious life - as right as possible, to learn from others and grow because of our mistakes.
To keep living, loving and learning. To always or often have a beginner’s mind and never tire of discovery, wonder and awe.
Being astonished and amazed - growing right through that 4199th week.

I don’t worry if I’ll be forgotten. It does not matter.
There’s no need for me to build an impressive house or try to be the fastest walker or finest stalker. It does not matter.
Even if won the Best Baker in the World Award for my butter swim biscuits -
and I’m interviewed on CBS Sunday Morning or someone’s blog and I have my own line of cast iron butter swim biscuit pans - (purple floral cast iron).
It. Does. Not. Matter.

That’s not even the reason for doing anything. Even though those butter swim biscuits will hurt your feelings.
But that ain’t no legacy. Not in my mind.

Like I said, it matters not, cause I’ll be on the other side with zero cares and zero worries, chasing butterflies, making bouquets (pronounced buckets) and herding goats. A multitude of goats. And a couple donkeys.
Just do all the things with a bit more kindness, a lot less ego and don’t be afraid to be a little batshit crazy/goofy/silly.

That’s what I think heaven looks like.
Kinda like it is - right damn here, right damn now.

That’s the goal.

Thanks for being here.

Sending Bouquets (you know how to pronounce it) of love - and goats.

She’s getting a bit more traffic. And that’s thrilling.
So far Saturdays have attracted the most people and sales.

Cutting flowers in the morning and arranging them into bouquets is a dream and my favorite “job”. I could easily be occupied for hours - cutting, playing, arranging and rearranging.
Tied for first place is finding buckets or trinkets or junk acquired in the past 7 years for the Rusted Bucket Project.
Maybe this is what I’ve been preparing for - and didn’t know it.
Or maybe this is the latest, delightfully creative exercise I get to do.

Share

Stress shows up when I forget who’s in charge. Do I have rules to follow or a boss breathing down my neck?
Nope.
I’m the boss and get to make the rules. Deciding what those rules are and maintaining them - that’s the trick.

Exhaustion - of course. The days are markedly different from my past life. I’ll figure it out. I can handle being tired and sweaty. It shall not kill me.
(But it will likely piss me off)

The FlowerStand is practically a storefront for everything I love.
A 6ft x 8ft, three-walled storefront.

I get to:

• arrange

• decorate

• rearrange

• upgrade

• and be silly - I painted clothespins! GOL! (Giggle Out Loud)
  

I am not a flower farmer. That’s not the goal. Never has been.

I grow flowers cause I can’t not grow them. Impossible.

I am surrounded by abundance and I get to share it. I’m a piddler in the floral realm. Playing with flowers, staghorns, botanical prints - all the things.
And of course - goats. If I can bring Thelma and Louise to the FlowerStand -
you’ll know it. Goats are included in the floral realm - cause they eat florals.

I’ll keep building, sweating thru two costume changes per day, and hope to bring delight to somebody - maybe the fella driving that big ol’ dump truck who bought the 3 tomatoes I picked yesterday morning. Or the young man who bought 3 hydrangea stems and gave them to his new wife.

Plans for the future:
There will be pumpkins by Halloween if the groundhogs and deer don’t inhale my baby pumpkin plants!

It took exactly 7 days for those seeds to pop up.

We’ll be planting 100 peonies in the fall. I expect a few blooms next spring but the big bloom boom will be year 3 with more each following year.

Still thinking bout having a pot of coffee and ice water for those stopping by on the occasional Saturday or Sunday.

Stop by anytime. I have been getting new things out by 9:00ish on weekdays and reaching for 8:00 on Fri/Sat/Sun.

We operate on the honor system.
Ain’t that awesome?
And the honor system works!

Accepting cash or venmo.

Sending you rusted buckets of love, flowers and goats.

Thanks for stopping by.

That’s just how it was - back in the mid 1900’s. Respecting authority and following the rules is what brought good order, discipline and learning to our world.

Questioning authority never crossed my mind as a youngster. It wasn’t an option or a consideration. Not up for discussion.
I didn’t always listen, but I knew not to question it.

And it worked for me. It worked for my family, the people in my circle. The ones who followed rules and respected authority did just fine. We were law abiding citizens who were able to work, play, provide for our family, and maintain a certain standard of life.

The police were “the good guys”. They kept us safe. We depended on them to come running when we crashed, were robbed, or threatened. They were trusted. Never did I have a reason to not trust them. They were always on my side - the side of good.
(Except for that brief spell in high school. But I’m fine, everything is fine.)

Authority didn’t take questions.
Nope. Compliance was the only possible response.
And as long as we followed the rules, there would be no problems.

I never considered those in charge - the ones making the rules,
could be wrong or manipulative.

The Church had authority over my immortal soul as a youngster. It started as a place for beautiful hymns, long sermons, potluck, Sunday school and VBS. Those first few years were idyllic.
I love the smell of a church and the old hymns - still.

Then came the fear of God, hell and eternal damnation.

I learned there were rules for entry into heaven as well as behaviors that would land you in hell.
These rules and behaviors were to be enforced - lived by. I tried.
When I got saved in 4th grade I didn’t feel the immediate and promised sense of transformation.
Maybe I didn’t do it right.
Maybe it didn’t take.
Did God know I didn’t know what I was doing?
Did He think I didn’t mean it?
I did it scared, not really understanding what it all - anything - meant.

The choices were hell or that mansion on the hilltop.
Tough choice, right?

Terror at the thought of being left behind kept me saved.
Now that’s some hellacious authority.

The authority of The Church was not questioned.
Questions weren’t invited.

And yet - I prevailed.

Years later I had a couple of revelations:
God is love. All of us are loved. Every one of us - LOVED.
And we are all connected.

“The Celestine Prophecy” and classes on tarot and astrology really brought me back into the fold.

I wasn’t “all in” but I was interested and wondering and looking. I had to start trusting my judgement. I didn’t have to believe everything I was told or taught.
I COULD AND SHOULD ASK QUESTIONS.
That was my first step in believing again - in a greater power.

How’s that for an “and not or” lesson? New age, woowoo things AND God?

And that’s what kickstarted my faith.

Our family found St Phillip Episcopal Church when we lived in Memphis.
Or it found us. Thank goodness. That church, Father Terry and Edie, ECW, acolytes, youth group, shrimp boils, Mardi Gras, Sewanee and St Mary’s left a mark - a good, deep and loving mark.
St Phillip was what we all needed and we love those memories.

Jesus never said, “Fear God or else.”
Jesus said, “Follow me.”
Uh-huh - that’s right. “Follow me.”

As Richard Rohr wrote “…Jesus never said: “Worship me.”
Worship of Jesus is rather harmless and risk-free;
following Jesus changes everything.”

God can take tough questions. I think he welcomes them.
Questioning everything means we are thinking and wondering and learning.
And INTERESTED!

Yes, there are formulas we have to follow. Guidelines that keep us safe and moving forward, to learning and becoming who we are meant to be.

All adults are human and flawed and authority can be abused - easily.
Those lessons suck. They are a punch in the gut.

Questioning authority—respectfully—is imperative.

My God is crazy about me. Full Stop.
No ifs, ands, or buts.

Thanks for being here.

Hope you found something useful or semi-interesting and maybe something to ruminate on.

Buckets of love and goats are headed your way.

Why am I writing this book?

24K Goat:
The Golden Goat Award Field Manual

I believe in the idea of recognition and encouragement. I believe in the gargantuan impact both have. That is powerful.

The Golden Goat Award has been around for 10 years. It won’t lie down, retreat or go away. I don’t want it to. It’s still kicking even though I haven’t been fully behind it - advertised, marketed, constantly singing the praises. Have I been waiting for validation? Waiting for someone to push hard enough? Waiting for me to believe I have the power to go for it?

I’m done half-assing it. I’m done waiting for validation.

I am the validation.

This book is a field manual. How to change perspectives. It trains eyes to notice the good first, before we notice the shitshow. This training, this practice will change what you see first. What you look for.
It exercises the “notice good stuff muscle”.

It takes EFFORT for excellence, awesome and extraordinary. None of that happens accidentally.

So let’s put our effort into recognizing their effort - it deserves it.

That is the Golden Goat Award.

Share

Think of this as a manifesto.
Be pro-awesome. Not anti-anything. Cause we gots no time for anti-anything.
We’re too focused on looking for that good good stuff.
And we are knee deep in it. Always. The good stuff is all over us - all around us.
We just have to train our eyes to notice it and call it out.

We are all grown-ass people. Adults. We have the power, the agency, and the sovereignty—for the love of goats—to recognize people, show them we care enough to notice and tell them they are awesome.

We need an army a Navy - a fleet of recruits - to recognize more awesome.

Hope you climb on board!

Thanks for being here.

Sending rusted buckets of love - and goats.

See ya next week.

Golden Goat Award

More Golden Goats

This was originally published in July of 2024. Not a lot has changed. That’s a comfort. Enjoy!

I started a container gardening business in 2019 - I named it The Rusted Bucket Project.When I moved back home the business protested. She just didn’t take off - the nerve. Soon I landed a dream job at the local botanical garden as a Gardener. As a result of my gardener era, I have new friends in the tribe of garden hoes, more confidence from selling myself as a business owner, new ideas about creativity, community and abundance AND approximately 8 tshirts that announce my identity. My favorite says, “Hoeing ain’t easy.”

A Shiny Girl’s Blog is written for you and me. Please subscribe if you’d like to have this sent directly to your inbox. If you decide to pay for the blog, all $$$ goes to the AFSP-NC American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, NC chapter.

Back in those days I easily and gleefully responded, “I’m a gardener,!” when anyone asked. It felt good to have a title that I created. It was in my genes. I come from a solid line of great gardeners, creatives and small business owners.

But I don’t have a gardening business anymore. Even though the Rusted Bucket Project is still around - like a brand I can’t or don’t want to give up. I’ve taught a few classes on kokedama and staghorn ferns and I grow stuff in containers and garden beds. But now I feel like a fake if I say I’m a gardener. Especially when I look at my garden. I think, “Whoa!” Where is that cottage garden? Where are the well tended (that’s my first clue) annuals, perennials, herbs and vegetables? Shouldn’t (another clue to my dismay. Should is a bad word) a gardener have beautiful flower beds where they host garden parties? On this plot, there is no order. No vision. There’s not even a spiral notebook with a sketch or diagram-ish of the plan for spring 2023, 2024 or 2025. Hahahahahahaha - the plan for spring. The plan for spring was, has always been and (honestly) always will be:

buy the pretty seeds in the pretty packets, plant them, forget where and what you planted, then buy the pretty bedding plants and plant them three weeks after purchasing, keeping them alive barely, then the perennials start calling to you and you have to buy the pretty perennials (but now you are only getting new stuff when Barry is in Omaha because - HOLY SHIT!) I can’t be held accountable because there is approx 6 acres of available real estate ….. you get the picture.

This year was probably the most unplanned yet. Obviously I need further analysis on that bit of intel.

But by-damn-golly there is an upside. Here’s a couple examples of the beauty and what was learned this season:

- The old wooden ladder is doing well as a tomato support. So is the broken shovel and the cattle panel in the raised bed (Brad).

- Gaura is glorious. The pink one was planted first and then I found two of the white fluttery butterfly variety. I’ll plant more of those.

- Staghorn ferns are magnificent and I have loved fumbling around with different mounts, baskets and kokedamas

- Japanese beetles attacked the zinnias but left me enough for some real nice bouquets.

- The year of the hydrangea. The divas showed up this year. But only one (out of 5) of my limelights are blooming.

- The lavender tanked and was yanked. It did great for three years with total neglect. I needed to add some sand and soil to the trough and I did not. Will plant on the ground in gravel next time.

- I may plant an entire bed of basil next year.

- Euphorbia has lost it’s shine.

- The Japanese Maples will knock your socks off.

- The rhododendron in the curve of the driveway is spectacular.

I plant seeds too close together. Always have. It is NOT good for their health, they can’t breathe and that encourages powdery mildew and other problems. The Japanese beetles loved the zinnias and the one pea plant I had. But didn’t pay much attention to my tomatoes. Maybe they just don’t like them. I have an ampelopsis vine that they decimated. They always do. I let them. Because - sacrifice. In gardening, just like many other life situations, - we need to pick our battles. Do I want all the zinnias? Is one pea plant worth giving up for all those tomatoes?

I try to use limited chemicals - neem oil on foliage (worked for repeling beetles as long as I reapplied often. I didn’t.) I had a bucket of water and knocked the little bastards off the leaves and into the drink. Doomed. Diactemactious earth is great for ants. I think I have more to learn about it’s use.

Something eats the petals of my coneflowers and it’s so sad. I want a hundred and one coneflowers. That’s the goal.

Now that we’ve lost two big oak trees, we have a ton more sunshine hitting spots that used to be shaded most of the day. Some stuff will need to be moved and we plan on planting more trees to replace the ones we lost. I talked about these oak trees in the last podcast. I also talked about another label I resist. The “r” word. RETIRED. I’ve decided on a brilliant substitution. I’m a good time girl.

You can listen to The Goat Locker podcast here.

Bottom line is I enjoyed what grew in the garden. And I learned plenty. And the year ain’t over yet!

I’m a damn gardener and a good time girl.

Thanks for being here - sending you rusted buckets of love - and goats.

If you build it they will come.

Maybe.

But they might be expecting something waaaay different than what you’re delivering.

Barry built a roadside stand. It’s so good looking - the perfect size with a roof and shelves for all the goodies.

Mom and Mike put out vegetables in this same spot - for years. Flowers too.

Share

Last week two friends in my bunco group said they bought from that first stand - regularly. A mother and daughter stopped last weekend and bought a bouquet and some notecards. They live down the road and also remember when Mom and Mike sold their garden goodies in this same place. And asked if and when there would be vegetables. One of our neighbors told Barry they were so glad to see him building a farmstand. And yesterday a gentleman pulled into the drive as I was taking down the sign for the day. “You got any tomatoes?” Not yet - but they are coming.

My vision of the FlowerStand farmstand is all things flowers. Notecards with flowers, actual - no joke - flowers, cool containers with cool plants, staghorn ferns, botanically printed scarves, bandanas, and table runners.

And I’ve had a blast putting it together. Kinda by the seat of my pants.
Cause that’s how I roll. And it is awesome. I’ve had the ability to do what I love and put it out there - that all by itself - is a gift. The gift that thrills me to no end - just in the doing.

The expectation is for something else.

And that’s ok. I have a very small number of tomato plants and cucumber plants to share. Some herbs too. They will sit alongside those flowers, notecards, cool containers, staghorns and botanically dyed beauties billowing in the breeze.

Best case scenario, you stop by, cause it looks inviting (and it is) and you’re curious or just looking for a dang tomato -
and you are dedamnlighted by a sweet bouquet.

Stop by - would love to see ya.

Thanks for being here.

Sending you rusted buckets of love, tiny bouquets, green tomatoes - and goats.

Why?
Why tell a stranger they’re amazing?
Why tell that cashier who is “just doing their daggone job”
that you appreciate what or how they’re getting it done?
Why keep looking for the good and why talk about it?

Noticing and acknowledging to myself - when I see a teacher, coach, cashier, waitress is killing it and intent on excellence - is noticing the good, the exceptional.

That moves the bar for me. Noticing it puts a little light in my bulb.
The act of noticing good makes a difference - to me.
I have witnessed the good stuff.

We get the culture we reward. Seth Godin

I believe I am morally obligated - not legally - but morally obligated
to tell them exactly that. I don’t want to miss the chance to say - I noticed. You are killing it!

That is my way of acknowledging to myself and her and maybe her boss or a peer, that trying, caring, and effort matters to me too and it makes a difference.

I believe I have to say it if I see it. It helps to tip the scale to the good.
It might have an effect on her too but I can’t control that.

Share

Is that selfish? No. It’s keeping it real. It’s keeping my expectations “corralled”.

I’ve been guilty of giving a compliment or a simple “hey!” and being disappointed in the reaction.
I expected (wanted) that emotional transaction. When I say hey! I expect them to smile back and think, what a friendly soul she is….

Snap out of it girl.

The only thing I can control is how many cups of coffee I drink in the morning, how much pasta the goats get, and what I put into the world. I can’t control the reaction to what I put into the world.

It’s my job to make it honest, authentic and good. My definition of good.

I was “famous” (that’s a stretch) for saying hello to someone while on a walk and if they didn’t acknowledge my deeply kind and authentic greeting, I’d repeat myself and stare - aggressively.
How’s that for kind heartedness? Forcing an elderly gentleman trying to walk with some peace to greet me. Maybe his walk is the only quiet time is his day. He might have just lost his dog, or is deaf, or …..
No. I don’t want to be that person.
That is selfish.
That is expecting validation - a positive reaction.

When I see it the good stuff - excellence or effort - I’m obligated to speak up.
Excellence requires - demands recognition.
I won’t demand validation. It doesn’t work that way.

It borders on dishonest not to tell someone I see their effort and admire it.
That’s a waste. Don’t waste the good stuff girl!

Do the right thing. See that good stuff. Say that good stuff.
They made a difference and I have to let them know.

Recognition matters.

What does “do the right thing” mean to you? What is your definition of good?

Thanks for being here!

Sending you rusted buckets of love ———— and GOATS!

1. How about a to-don’t list? This would be just as useful - maybe more so.

2. Name 3 people who didn’t annoy me this week.

I’m keeping it positive - no list of the ones who annoyed the snot out of me.

3. If I were starting over in a different house, from scratch, from zero things, what are 25 must haves? Here’s my first draft. Barry gets his own 25 items.

1. comfy bed

2. comfy chair

3. comfy couch

4. fuzzy blanket

5. old quilt

6. plants

   

7. big windows that never need cleaning

8. one acre of yard surrounded by trees

9. lavender oil

10. my solar chimes

11. huge family photo

12. love notes from barry

13. writing tools

14. espresso machine

    

15. 2 dogs or 2 cats

16. Thelma and Louise

17. limelight hydrangeas

    

18. bookshelf full of books - caddie woodlawn, little britches, big magic, learning to walk in the dark, something by anne lamott, berenstein bears - the spooky old tree and the secret lives of bees.

19. huge photo album containing all my family, friends and frolic fotos.

20. Bob’s flower shop candle

21. fairy lights

22. heart rock collection

23. bird bath Barry gave me

24. flower seeds

25. 3 thrifted plates from Albion

    ---

4. Places I want to visit.

5. Countries I’ve dreamed of living.

6. Horrible favorite jobs.

7. Things I “get to do”.

8. Dreams that have come true.

What’s on your list?

Share

Sending you rusted buckets of love - and goats.

Subscribe now

Just like you and everyone else in the world - I’m getting older.
The state of “being old” feels closer than ever. It’s for real.

I have evidence:
Recently I butt dialed 5 people and then FaceTimed a friend of a friend who I have never called and haven’t seen in 10 years. I know this because Barry heard the FaceTime ring from my phone in my pocket, living its best life.

I sometimes struggle with tapping and paying with my credit card.

While sitting on the beach in Daytona last month, I was watching the big graceful birds flying low over the ocean, skimming the surface.
I said to Barry, “Gosh I love those penguins.”
Barry said, “pelicans".

I recently got hearing aids. Nothing “youthful” about that.

Anyone else feeling this?
It’s kinda surprising right? And it shouldn’t be.

I just wanna say - well La-Dee-Damn-Da.
I’ll be picking out my tiny home with a goat barn and pasture in the coolest senior living community - later this summer. Oh yeah.
Must accept Thelma, Louise and Cosmo and Barry.

Great idea for a novel!

How does getting old feel?
I’m getting the hang of it even though I’m still in the semi-early throes.
Expectations are high.
Adventures will continue, there will be loads of purple and/or orange anything. Bring me more goats and more muumuus.

Share

I do not look like 35 or 55 year old me. I tell myself “that’s ok”.
I’m not supposed to look like her.
Every line, scar, wrinkle and pound is there for a reason.
I remember most of them.
I regret some - but regrets don’t mean diddly squat.

I’ve thought about what an eye lift would do for me. Often.
How about some kind of plastic surgery for the skin cancer scar beside my nose?

I don’t want to care about the lines, scars and wrinkles - but I do.
But I care just a skosh more - about how I would feel if I erased ‘em.
Lucky for us - there are no rules! We get to choose so many things.
We gotta STRIVE to choose exactly what we want - for us.
Ain’t nobody else qualified to know that. Not even close.

Kicking cigarettes to the curb when I turned 50, played a role in the amount of lbs on the scale.
I wouldn’t change that choice - the quitting - for any amount of money.
Menopause also added to that number.
I’d see some results if I made some changes in what I eat and moved more.
That’s an option.

I laugh at myself more than I used to. There’s still room for improvement.
I resist shame - it’s not useful. More of an evil curse.
I have less guilt over doing what lights me up and not doing what I “should” do. Just do it for Pete’s sake.
I know myself better than 35 or 55 year old me.
Learning to accept it all is a damn fine lesson.
The current, older version is ok. I’m more satisfied with myself than ever.
I still crack myself up.

Bring me all the muumuus and anything purple or with goat or hoe jokes printed on it.
I’m in my frolic era.

Thanks for being here.
Sending you rusted buckets of love - and goats.

What happens to our lives after the big event or the semi big event disrupts everything? After a vacation, wedding or a 20 mile hike?

What do you do when you need a jump or a kick start to merge back into “regular, daily life”. The definition is so ingrained - automatic, I don’t even question what a “regular daily life” is.

Remember jumping rope in elementary school? I do. I loved jumping rope. In 4th grade I’d be outside at recess - jumping rope with Melody and Karen. To jump in while the rope is turning, I wait, watching the rhythm of the rope going up and down, hitting the dirt, over and over. I rock back and forth until the perfect opening, then run in and jump. “Cinderella dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss her fella…..”

Share

That’s what I’m waiting for - expecting. The rhythm of life or my rhythm to catch up and leave an opening that’s long enough or wide enough to jump or step back into.

Those goats, that horse, those cats won’t feed themselves.
Those flowers will not water themselves.
There’s no self mowing grass or self weeding flower beds.
Dishes pile up until there’s no cereal spoons or bowls.
Some routines are non-negotiable.

Remember - Order. Chaos. Reorder.

Thems the rules. Change will happen. There’s no going backward. And trying to force it - will bring disappointment and feeling stuck.
After that big trip, after graduation. Welcome the reorder.
Savor the possibility of what’s new. Or wonder, “what’s next?”

Perhaps the living room furniture needs rearranging.
Organize the daggone office. Workout on Tu/Th instead of M/W/F.
I might make a totally gnarly left turn and sign up for a dance class, go back to yoga, join a church.

Take the step.
The first step into that swinging rope is the hardest - but then you jump.

Change and Chaos
Everyday we change. I’m a different person from yesterday. Even if it feels like I’m standing still - DIW dead in the water. Change is happening.

And the trick to handling anything is doing something.
Anything. Stand up and take one step towards the next or closest needed thing.

In 1985 my ship, the USS Lexington was in the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Every day the crew was transported in actual cattle cars to and from the barracks. One day at quitting time, my friend Beverly was in the way - standing, talking, right in front of a cattle car.

The driver bellowed at Beverly, “Your ass! Your ass!”
”What about my ass?” she said.
”MOVE your ass!”

Still makes me laugh.

That’s the marching order needed when there’s real life chaos, or when we’re DIW or directionless.
What do I do next? What can I do now???
Move.
Jump.
One step forward.

Just keep showing up. Even when you don’t know where you want to go or what you want to do - keep showing up.
For yourself. For your future self.

Take one step. One jump.

Just move your ass!

Thanks for being here!

Sending rusted buckets of love, baby beets, flowers, and —— goats!

Expanding our vision - widening our field of view. Developing our goat eyes.

There’s no need to strengthen our ability to see what’s wrong with the world - I’ve developed a solid body of work. But YES - gimme tools for seeing the good that is out there. There’s tons of goodness happening right in front of us.

This isn’t anti-anything. It’s not a sermon on toxic positivity. This is encouragement for an automatic search engine that looks for the delightful, the wondrous anything that makes me say ooooh! OOF! Or just smile.

Share

There are friends, neighbors, and strangers being awesome, generous, being sweet, considerate - doing good all the time.
Mother Nature is right outside the door with a million wonders per second and all the beauty in the world-available to all of us.

If we learn to look for it.

If we can train ourselves - develop goat eyes - it can even become a habit.

If, like me, it’s so easy to see what’s wrong, to find something that makes you want to spit nails, why can’t we change that? Why wouldn’t I?

Widen the view. Exit tunnel vision. Look for the sublime.

Look for good stuff.

Turn it into a habit.

Go pro.

Pro-awesome.

Sending you all the love from me, Thelma and Louise.
Love and goats.

Thanks for being here.

“The only thing really effortless is the choice to stay put.” Ryan Holiday

The effort is what gives anything value. Falling into cruise control - set it and forget it, is leaving life up to fate and circumstance. Whether you believe we are all living pre-ordained lives or not - we have free will and we’re supposed to use it. Staying put is comfortable - for a minute.

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed …” Albert Einstein

Mr. Einstein said it perfectly. Awe and wonder make the world go round.

Gladness and joyfulness are “alongsiders.” Kate Bowler

“The currency of the world is how you make people feel. Customer service is community service and it costs you nothing to serve people with a genuine smile.” Kat Gordon

Kat Gordon founded Muddy’s Bake Shop in Memphis 18 years ago. She is a force. She and Muddy’s are what I consider the finest example of how to serve customers, how to make them feel when they walk in. Excellence in all things.
Muddy’s serves delight. That’s why she received the Golden Goat Award 9 years ago.

“Work is not bad, but work serves an end. Even the holiest work of your life is not your purpose – it facilitates your purpose…” SSJE

“Emotions are experiences, not identity.” Mark Manson

We are not our emotions, we have emotions. Good reminder.

“We want to be judged by our intentions. We are judged by our actions.”
Ruth Kimmelshue

Another good reminder.

“The gospel doesn’t need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down the walls, throwing open the doors, and shouting, “Welcome! There’s bread and wine. Come eat with us and talk.” This isn’t a kingdom for the worthy; it’s a kingdom for the hungry.” Rachel Held Evans

“Humility, curiosity, and creativity are on ramps to wonder.”
Pretty sure this is Kelly Corrigan.

Thank-you to all those thinkers who share their thoughts and ideas.

Share

If you’re still here -Thank-YOU! I know you have dishes to wash and seeds to plant - me too!

But since you’re already near the end of this letter, would you spend a couple minutes with this brief survey? I’d love to hear your thoughts on what you’re wondering about and what keeps you subscribed to Notes from a Shiny Girl.
And I’m dying to see how the survey works for you - and me.

Start Survey

Thanks for being here. Sending buckets of love and goats forevaaaa.

So what do we want to do? Who do we want to be?

I want to be a “better” person. Better than I was yesterday. I want to think of others more and myself less. I want to get out of my own way and out of my head.

The path for me and anyone else who’s interested in changing the world from inside out - is developing the habit of noticing good stuff.
Recognizing it.
Encouraging the hell out it.

It doesn’t require a college degree and won’t cost you a thing. You don’t need venmo, a checkbook or credit card. There is no workshop, no subscriptions, or credentials required.

Your ability to notice exceptionally good stuff - that’s all you need.

Our attention is the most precious thing we have to give.

Recognizing awesome means we are looking for the good - the exceptional.
It’s an antidote.
An antidote for anger and outrage.

Develop “goat eyes”.
Make it an “Atomic Habit” a la James Clear.
Develop the habit of seeing the good, the awesome, the extra effort.
And when you see it, say it.
It becomes a habit and you can’t NOT notice it.
That’s worth cultivating and promoting.

You might expect that telling the cashier at the feed store or the kid mowing your lawn - you’ve noticed their effort, how they take care of every last detail, and you appreciate it.
You’d think it would change their world.
And it might.
That might be a beautiful side effect.

But what will change, what’s guarandamnteed - is it will change you. It will cause a ripple in the atmosphere starting right where you’re standing.

When we look for the exceptional consistently, we are going to find it.
Promise.

Share

That is why I am writing this book. It isn’t anti-anything. It’s pro-awesome.
It will change the world, one goat at a time.

When we aren’t distracted, our eyes are open and we are seeing what’s in front of us and who’s in front of us - that’s a superpower - that’s when we’re at our best.

Sending you buckets of love - and goats.

See you next week.

In 2025 we trained for the Camino de Santiago in Spain. We started the pilgrimage on May 9^th and walked for 3 weeks, 190 miles. It was transformative to say the least. Being away from home, away from familiar faces, daily routines and responsibilities, will leave a mark.

For the past few months, we’ve trained for the South Carolina Mammoth March. That fine event went down this past Saturday also May 9^th at Kings Mountain State Park.

These are two uniquely awesome and challenging events. I thought the Camino would be the Misogi. Yes it defined the hell out of 2025. But the Mammoth March - that was the one that kicked my ass. And in a good way.
I knew it’d be difficult. But I was comparing it to the 190 miles we walked last year. Surely 20 miles for just one day is in my wheelhouse.

And after my 14 mile training hike two weeks before the big day, I was confident. I might even finish under the 8 hour goal. Yeah - that was an actual thought.
Barry was sure I could do it too. But, he said, “You’re gonna see Jesus.”

I hiked 22 miles in 10 hours 30 minutes.

Barry hiked 31 miles carrying 25lbs in 11 hours 30 minutes. (Further proof this man thrives in beast mode.)

So yes - a physical and psychological challenge.

Jesus was there – especially on miles 20-22.

I read my devotional from SSJE that morning. And it was meant for me - for that walk - that day. Don’t you love when something speaks to you. I screen shotted the words and read them at least 4 times during the hike.

Encounter: An encounter with God, even if frightening and uncomfortable, should assure us that this God is no mere idol of our own comfortable desires, no mere tool we’ve mastered, but living and active, with evermore to show us, teach us, and welcome us into – even if our steps forward are trembling ones. SSJE

King’s Mountain State Park is a beautiful park. The 20 22 miles consisted of many up hills and down hills, four creek crossings some wet and some not as wet, and 23,000 roots and rocks to navigate.

There were four stops along the way where volunteers provided water and snacks. Two of those stops had porta-johns. Some hikers brought their dogs. Some people walked in groups. I met a woman from Charlotte who was walking the same glacial pace as me. We walked and talked for a couple miles near the beginning and again near the end.

Barry and I are recovering gloriously in Daytona Beach, basking in the beauty of the ocean and NOT training.

We are ready for what’s next.
Peony bed prep and tarp.
September Wedding!!!
Plant seeds - pull weeds.
Go to the Mountain.
Writing a book! 24K Goat: Story of the Golden Goat Award.
Writing and distributing the 2nd edition of Golden Goat Gazine.
29th wedding anniversary!
Notice the good stuff.
Mowing and weedwacking.
Goat Beauty Pageant Rodeo planning.
Go to the Mountain.
Notice more good stuff.

Thanks for being here.
Sending you buckets of love and goats. Always and forever.

Subscribe now