Being a busy grad student and nurse meant I thought I didn’t have time for DIY projects, so my original intent was to purchase a pre-made coop and chicken run. To my amazement, I found a chicken tractor on Amazon.com–with FREE super saver shipping! I happily placed my order.

A week later, Amazon informed me my order had been canceled due to unavailability. Frustration set in. I searched in vain for another source, but couldn’t find anything I liked as much that was within my price range. It seemed that building my own was my only option, but I didn’t see how I possibly could. For one thing, we don’t have much in the way of woodworking tools. Also, finals week was fast approaching, and “spare” time was at a premium. I needed to come up with something I could do quickly and easily, without too many fancy tools. Here’s what I came up with:

I bought a Rubbermaid storage shed at Home Depot.

Inside, I added a roost and a rack to hold the “nestbuckets” made from Home Depot buckets. I also made a screened wall on one side, so that one door can be left open for ventilation during nice weather.

To secure the wooden fixtures, I drilled holes through the walls of the coop and screwed wood screws through from the outside into the wood pieces. Where possible, I took advantage of the shapes and depressions of the plastic to add additional support. The screen wall is fastened to the wall of the coop and also to the roosts. The nestbuckets are not permanently fastened to the rack they sit on — I use a bungee cord to hold them securely in place.

In the back of the coop, beneath the nestbuckets, I cut an opening for the chickens to use for going in and out. I made a mistake and made it flush with the floor, before realizing that there should be a “lip” to hold the bedding in, so I added a scrap piece of lumber across the bottom for that purpose. I used strips of trim to “frame” the opening and hide the hollow walls of the Rubbermaid container.

Since there’s no way to keep the right-hand door closed when the left-hand one is open, I added gate latches on the inside to fasten it to the screen door. I can easily reach the lower one by reaching down through the top of the coop, but for people whose arms aren’t as long as mine, a pull string could be rigged for that purpose.

The last step was to add four eye bolts to the outside of the coop, to secure it to the run (I’m using bungee cords for this purpose), and to add strips of 2×2″ lumber to use as handles, since the smooth plastic makes it hard to get a grip on it for transporting the coop.

The run is made from two cattle panels with 2×4″ openings, using pig rings to secure the pieces together. The sides and top are each a half panel. The remaining piece was cut into 3 parts. Two of them form the end of the run farthest from the coop. The bottom half is fastened permanently in place, and the top half is fastened only at the top, forming a hinge that allows it to be swung up onto the top of the run for access to the inside. Again, I used a bungee cord to fasten the access panel in place when it is closed. I’m tall enough to easily step over the lower piece, but someone without my height advantage might need to modify the design to work for them. The remaining thin piece of cattle panel was fastened vertically to one side of the end of the run next to the coop. It adds some structural stability as well as allowing for the fact that the coop is not quite as wide as the run. A 2-foot wide strip of hardware cloth with 1/2″ openings was fastened all the way around the lower portion of the run, to keep raccoons from reaching through to grab the chickens.

Finally, I fastened a tarp over the run at one end to protect the feed from rain. Here’s the finished product, complete with chickens:

Baby/sport yarn with an F hook makes a newborn-sized hat

Round 1: Ch 4, join. Ch 3, make 13 DC in loop, join. (14 St)

Round 2: Ch 3. *In 2nd st from hook, DC-Ch 2-DC (V-stitch made)* six times; DC in base of starting Ch 3, Ch 2, join. (7 V-stitches)

Round 3: Sl St in first V-stitch space, chain 3, DC-Ch2-2DC in same space. *2DC-Ch2-2DC in next V-stitch space* six times; join.

Round 4: Ch 3, 2DC-Ch2-2DC in V-space, DC in next st, *skip 2 st, DC in next st, 2DC-Ch2-2DC in V-space, DC in next st* six times; join.

Round 5: Ch 3, DC in next st, 2DC-Ch2-2DC in V-space, DC in next 2 st, *skip 2 st, DC in next 2 st, 2DC-Ch2-2DC in V-space, DC in next 2 st* six times; join.

Round 6: Ch 3, DC in next 2 st, DC-Ch2-DC in V-space, DC in next 3 st, *skip 2 st, DC in next 3 st, DC-Ch2-DC in V-space, DC in next 3 st* six times; join.

Rounds 7-16: Repeat round 6 ten more times. [Corrected 1/5/10]

Round 17: Ch 1, SC in next 3 st, 2SC-Ch2-2SC in V-space, SC in next 4 st, *skip 2 st, SC in next 4 st, SC-Ch2-SC in V-space, SC in next 4 st* six times; join.

Round 1: Ch 4, join. Ch 3, 9 DC in loop, join.

Round 2: Ch 3, DC in same st. *DC in next st, 2DC in next st.* Repeat around; DC in last st, join.

Round 3: Ch 3, DC around as in Round 2 (alternating 2 DC & 1 DC). Join.

Round 4: Ch 3; 1 DC in each st around, join.

Rounds 5-10: Repeat Round 4 until mittens reach desired length (mittens in photo have 10 rounds of DC).

Round 11: Ch 1, SC in each stitch around, join.

Finishing: Weave narrow ribbon or baby elastic through 2nd from last row to hold them on baby’s wrists.

Grace means you don’t have to be deserving. You can screw up, break the rules, fall flat on your face, wear plaid, shoot, you can even get tattoos, and still be okay. Jesus was big on grace. So much so that to make sure we really got the point that he was eliminating all the religious rules and rituals and replacing them with grace, he voluntarily took the death penalty, to prevent any possibility of our having to be held accountable for anything. He piled up all the nitpicky rules and requirements that had ever been created, and satisfied them all forever with one final payment in full. Then he replaced all those rules with a “new commandment” that he said would be how people would know who his real followers were. The new commandment was “love one another as I have loved you.”

He didn’t leave any room for doubt as to what that meant, either. Jesus loved by serving. He spent the majority of his time on health care, actually. He healed sick people, mostly people who didn’t even deserve it. He also purposely sought out and befriended society’s outcasts; adulterers, crooked tax collectors, prostitutes, even the despised Samaritans (the ancient Jewish equivalent of illegal aliens). Incidentally, he didn’t do those things for people because they believed in him. Mostly people believed in him because he treated them like they actually mattered.

Any kid who’s ever been to Sunday School can tell you this stuff. It’s no secret how Jesus loved people; it’s in all the Bible stories. He did it by giving everything he had to give, with no strings attached. Who did he love? Everybody, of course. But most pointedly, he loved the people society said didn’t deserve it. The less than. The people who had made stupid choices and screwed up their lives, or had the misfortune of being born to the wrong families, or had chosen unsavory occupations. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to love those who least deserved it, those who were the most unlovable. And then he gave his life. In that act he demonstrated the ultimate extent of the new commandment he had given. He didn’t say “love one another as long as they deserve it but after you’ve made sure you can take care of yourself first and only if it’s not too hard for you.” He said “Love one another as I have loved you.” And he got down on his knees and washed smelly feet. He healed the sick, regardless of who they were, where they were from, or how they had lived their lives. He served, and loved, and held nothing in reserve; not even his own life.

That’s a hard act to follow. Some people are just downright hard to love. Some people totally don’t deserve to have anybody love them. Some people don’t even want to be loved. Maybe that’s why he made such a point of seeking out exactly those sorts of people to love, to underscore his intent, to make it crystal clear just what he meant when he exhorted his followers to do the same.

It’s real easy to talk about loving people, but it’s quite another thing to do it. So Christians have done what humans do when they are faced with a problem they can’t resolve, and taken refuge in a natural coping skill. We compartmentalize.

Compartmentalization is when we put things into different boxes in our brains. We can choose the boundaries of each box, and choose what sort of reality and expectations apply within those boundaries. Dividing things up like that simplifies things. Taken to extremes, it’s a coping skill that can become pathological. Children faced with a reality too terrifying to handle can sometimes compartmentalize themselves to such an extent that they create an entirely different persona in each box, each of them with their own subset of reality. This allows them to switch between personas based on which one’s reality and personality is best equipped to handle a given situation. It’s called dissociative identity disorder, otherwise known as “split personality.” It’s a protective strategy, and one we all use to some extent, just usually not to that extreme.

I find that Christians tend to build themselves a Sunday compartment. Since unlovable people don’t tend to show up at church on Sundays, they don’t have to exist in this box. Instead, we can just imagine all those people out there in the world who we’re supposed to love. They’re nameless, faceless people, preferably in far away places. It’s easy to imagine that we love them; we’re sure we would, if we knew them. Because in our imaginations they aren’t smelly or funny-looking or dishonest or undeserving. We can paint them as lovable in our imaginations, and then imagine ourselves loving them, and then to demonstrate our love, give money to someone closer to where they are, to use in serving them. It makes us feel benevolent and kind, and even Christ-like, and takes care of the whole “love one another” thing.

For the rest of the week, we move over into our day-to-day compartment, the one we’ve constructed for living in the real world. Since we’ve met the “love one another” requirement over there in the Sunday box, we don’t really have to worry about it too much in this box, other than to take credit for having accomplished it. In this compartment, real-world logic and values apply (you know, stuff Jesus didn’t have to deal with). The filthy ill-dressed man on the corner with a cardboard sign goes in this box. Unlike those imaginary people in faraway places, he’s not easy to love. For one thing, he smells bad. And what’s he doing on the corner asking for money instead of trying to get a job, like any responsible person would? Who does he think he is, asking for a free ride, and why should I give him money I’ve worked hard to earn, money I need to support myself and my own family? He needs to grow a backbone and work for it, like I have. In the day-to-day box, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, and only the strong survive. It’s really too bad for those who can’t make it; it’s not that I don’t feel bad for them, but you know, that’s just how life is. I’ve got to make sure I can provide for me and mine; I can’t afford to jeopardize my family‘s security for people who can’t even pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.

Being in a health care profession has opened my eyes to a lot of things I was able to conveniently overlook before. Working in psych means the reality I’m trying to come to terms with is one of the bleakest and harshest of all. I can’t paint appealing mental pictures of imaginary people to imagine myself loving, make a gesture of generosity to demonstrate that love, and then go back to my comfortable life and forget they exist for the rest of the week. I work on Sundays now, so I can’t even successfully keep the boundaries distinct between my Sunday compartment and my day-to-day compartment. The easy-to-love imaginary people have all faded and gone kind of fuzzy around the edges, overshadowed by the hard-to-love real people who have crowded in. This has forced me to face what love, the way Jesus practiced it, really means. It’s hard. I’m not even sure it’s entirely humanly possible. But that word “commandment” really just doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room.

I guess I’ve made some progress. I know this because of the current health care debate. I see what my fellow Christians are saying, and am shocked and appalled that people who claim a spiritual belief system predicated on loving and serving their fellow man could be so openly heartless and uncaring. Especially since some of the ones saying the things that sound so harsh and calloused are people I love and respect. It’s jarring, and to tell you the truth, it’s got me wanting to build a whole new set of compartments to hide myself away in.

I am ashamed. I am ashamed that we’ve forgotten the truth. I am ashamed that we who have been so blessed can be so arrogant as to think, somehow, that it’s because we actually deserve to have better lives than those around us who are suffering. And I am ashamed because I remember when I have hidden inside my own Sunday box, selectively applying my beliefs to the world only where it wasn’t too painful and difficult, and turning a blind eye on the rest.

I recently read Matthew 25, for like the bazillionth time, and was stunned to realize that in all those previous times of reading it, I had never fully comprehended what it actually says. I guess that’s because the Sunday box tends to also serve as the Bible-reading box. With the walls of my Sunday box all falling apart the way they are now, some of the stuff Jesus said in the sermon he preached in that chapter has suddenly taken on new depths of meaning. His words show just how seriously he meant that command to love one another, and he describes quite plainly how we will end up being judged by whether we took it to heart:

Then he will say to those on his left, “Depart from me, you who are cursed…For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me…I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.” (Matthew 25:41-45, NIV)

Take a look. The single criterion that will ultimately determine whether we have accomplished what is expected of us as Christians is whether or not we have loved our fellow humans as Jesus loved us. Failure to do so seems to be the one thing that can finally render someone unlovable, too. “You who are cursed” is pretty harsh, from someone who can love even the most miserable of screwups. I find that pretty sobering.

John 14:6 is worth a look, too. That’s where Jesus said (KJV), “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man cometh unto the father but by me.” I was always taught that what Jesus meant there was that the only way to God was by believing in Jesus. But you know, believing’s easy. If that’s all he wanted, he could have just done a few miracles for a few deserving folk, and left out all the hard stuff like washing feet and loving publicans and sinners and Samaritans. Especially in light of how badly those things hurt his reputation with the religious folks. Shoot, if he’d have worked a little harder to keep his reputation clean, the priests and rabbis might even have accepted him as the Messiah.

But back to my point: I’m thinking now that Jesus expected a little more of us than just believing in his existence. He wanted us to strive to become what he represented — the embodiment of love, the servant of mankind. That’s why he went on, a few verses later, to specify that believing wasn’t the whole ballgame: “He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also…” That word “shall” indicates a requirement, not a suggestion. Ask any lawyer.

People are sick and dying. Not just people conveniently off in some far-away land we’ll never see. They’re dying right here, in our own country. In our own cities and towns. And we’re letting them, while we quibble heartlessly over just who deserves to be taken care of when they’re sick, and who, by golly, is NOT going to help pay for it. I am stunned at the shallowness of it all.

I was sick…and you did not look after me…
…I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.

What Would Jesus Do?

My particular vestibular disorder, Menieres Disease (aka endolymphatic hydrops) is caused by excess fluid in the inner ear’s hearing and balance structures. Normally these structures are independent of the body’s fluid system, but in Menieres Disease the independent fluid control is lost, causing fluctuating fluid volumes and concentrations in the inner ear, which in turn causes pressure, tinnitus, dizziness/imbalance, and loss of hearing.

For years, people with Menieres have been told to go on low sodium diets. Increased sodium means increased fluid retention, as we all learned in high school biology. But in nursing school physiology I learned that the body regulates sodium balance in the kidneys, so I knew that although eating too much salt would definitely cause increased volumes, eating less salt would, at least to some extent, just mean my body would excrete less of it in order to keep things balanced. Nevertheless, once I had cut back on sodium, I could cause instant symptoms of dizziness and vertigo just by eating something that was too salty, so I could definitely tell it had an effect. As a result, I have spent the last 10 years or so carefully avoiding foods I knew have more sodium than I can tolerate.

Last month, I started seeing a new vestibular specialist. My symptoms have been pretty well controlled, but my previous specialist retired about 3 years ago, and I figured it was probably about time to have a checkup. My new doctor explained to me that the fluid volumes in my inner ear are governed by the overall chemical / hormonal / electrolyte balance of the body fluids as a whole. The driving factor behind that overall balance is not sodium, but insulin.

The key to symptom management, as well as minimizing the permanent damage being done to the inner ear and even trying to restore some function, is managing the level of insulin in the blood and trying to keep it as steady as possible. The more consistent my insulin levels are, the less fluctuation there will be in the fluid volumes in my inner ears.

The diet he wants me to follow (and this is the sobering part: FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!) is based on the Zone Diet. Where the Zone Diet uses 3 meals and 2 snacks per day, however, this version uses 6 equal small meals evenly distributed throughout the each day. The first one is to be eaten within an hour of waking up, and the last one before bedtime is the most important one, because of the long gap before the next meal.

Each meal consists of the same proportions of protein, carbohydrates, and fats. Carbohydrates, as probably everybody knows, increase the level of glucose in the bloodstream, which causes a corresponding rise in insulin levels. Protein causes the release of glucagon, which regulates insulin levels. And fats control various hormones that also work to keep insulin levels controlled. So the whole point is to balance intake in order to keep insulin at a relatively steady level.

At the Zone website there are lists of “Zone food blocks.” There are three types: a protein block contains 7 grams of protein; a carbohydrate block contains 9 grams of carbs (not counting fiber), and a fat block contains 3 grams of fat. There is also a “body fat calculator” that tells you how many “blocks” per day you should consume. I’m supposed to eat 12 blocks per day of each of the 3 types, so with 6 meals, that’s 2 blocks of each type per meal. I’m to eat every 2-3 hours, never going more than 5 hours between meals during the daytime.

The approach that the nurse recommended to me is to make lists of the foods I’m interested in in each of the 3 lists, stockpile those foods, and as much as possible, have them pre-prepared in block-sized portions. Then I can just mix and match for each meal. For the first 4 weeks, I’m not supposed to eat from the “less favorable carbohydrates” list, so that means the only grain I’m allowed to have right now is steel cut oats. Fortunately, that’s my favorite breakfast.

I’m also supposed to carry “emergency food.” One stick of string cheese is one protein block, and they don’t have to be refrigerated. One apple is two carbohydrate blocks; you can get your hands on an apple just about anywhere. Applesauce also comes in single-serving containers, and one of those is one block. Fat is easy – three almonds is one block. There are also Zone Balance bars and another brand called Balance Bare that have the right proportions and amounts for one 2:2:2 meal. And 6 ounces of 2% milk is a perfect 1:1:1 food, so in a pinch I can drink a half glass of milk and go a little longer before my next meal.

Besides the protein : carb : fat ratios, there are some other things that I have to monitor in my diet. Splenda and stevia are the only sweeteners I can use — all of the others can affect glucose levels. Caffeine increases insulin secretion, so ideally I should avoid it, although for people who just have to have a cup of coffee in the morning, my doctor says to do it consistently — the same amount at the same time every day. MSG is also to be avoided, as are aspirin and all other non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs. (I will have to ask again what the reason is, because I’ve already forgotten, but they do something that affects fluid balance in the inner ears.) And I’m supposed to drink a minimum of 64 ounces of water per day, evenly spaced throughout the day.

As for sodium, it’s to be avoided in large amounts. Like everything else, my meals should contain similar amounts of sodium — but the plan is to titrate me back up to within the ADA recommended 2000-3000 mg daily consumption range. Oh, and I’m supposed to eat a 1:1:1 snack 20 minutes before exercising.

It’s actually been kind of fun creating my meals, since I’m not cooking for a family any more, which means they can be as weird as I want. I’ve loaded the freezer with frozen protein servings (turkey sausage, chicken breasts, etc.) and frozen fruits, stocked the fridge with boiled eggs, tofu, apples, oranges, kiwi, and Mozzarella cheese, and stashed single-serving containers of salmon, tuna, sardines, and different flavors of applesauce in the pantry.

For breakfast today I ate 2 links of turkey sausage, and 2/3 cup of steel-cut oats with Splenda and 2/3 tsp of butter. I could have had 1/3 cup of oatmeal and mixed in 1/2 cup of blueberries instead — maybe I’ll do that tomorrow. I had a Balance Bare bar for one of my meals, and it was actually quite tasty. My latest meal was 3 oz. of canned salmon, 1/4 cup hummus, 1 kiwi, and 6 almonds.

I’m also expected to keep a diary of the foods I eat every day, what time I ate them, what time I noticed feeling hungry, my fluid intake, and my symptoms. That way, over time we’ll be able to fine-tune my diet to my needs. My diary is also supposed to show the barometric pressure each day — that’s the wildcard in the equation; it’s the one thing that can’t be controlled. (I still have to go buy a barometer.)

I’m the least-regimented person on the fact of the planet, but I’m determined to make this work. Wish me luck! Better yet, join me; then we can share ideas for making it painless and fun!

Official “7 Things” Meme Rules:

1. Link your original tagger(s), and list these rules on your blog.
2. Share seven facts about yourself in the post — some random, some weird.
3. Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs and/or Twitter.

Tagged By:

Thinking I was about to be tagged for this meme, and knowing that after this weekend I wouldn’t have time to blog for at least the next month, I dutifully prepared my entry ahead of time. As it turned out, the friend I thought was going to tag me was merciful and chose 7 others. But by then I’d already gone to all the trouble of writing the post, and I’d hate to think I wasted a perfectly good free afternoon this close to the beginning of the semester. So I’ve decided to publish my post anyway, and credit Felicity with the tag, in hopes the meme gods will be merciful to her for flaunting their rules and not tagging anyone.

Tag, You’re It:

• Jeff
• Etmorpi
• ByGolly
• Greystork
• Weasel
• Rasama
• Enrico

Jerry* was one of those. He had a mental illness that included psychotic symptoms, and was back in the hospital for a medication tune-up. He was very interested in the new medications the doctor wanted to try, and what their effects would be, so we were going over his medications together. One of them, naturally, was an antipsychotic. When I explained that it would help to diminish the voices, Jerry looked alarmed. “Oh, I don’t want the voices to go,” he told me. “It’s too lonely without them!”

I’m sure I seemed surprised, since that’s not how most of my patients feel about their voices. Jerry began to explain to me how, in the beginning, the voices had been horrible, nagging, taunting, threatening things; much more typical of the voices many psychotic patients experience. But Jerry had found a way to deal with them. “You have to get right with yourself,” he told me. “Every little thing you’ve ever said or done that you feel bad about, anything you don’t like about yourself, all the things that have happened to you that you still think about. Those are handles they can hold on to you with.” He talked about how he had searched out, one by one, every bit of the past he had been holding on to, and had worked through each thing in whatever way he needed to in order to finally come to terms with it, make peace, and let it go. He had dealt with his own flaws and shortcomings the same way, learning to accept himself in spite of them. “You have to just get over it,” he explained, “that way you get rid of all the handles for them to grab on to, and they can’t hurt you any more.”

But that hadn’t been the end of it, for Jerry. Once the voices had nothing left to taunt him with, they changed tactics and began to threaten him. “I was afraid all the time,” he told me. “They were always telling me horrible things they were going to do to me. It was a nightmare.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “But then I realized they never actually did anything. They just talked about it. So one day I had enough, and I sat down on the ground and told them, ‘Okay, if you’re going to do something to me, then do it! Right now!’” He waited for a long time, he said, but nothing happened, and so he knew the voices couldn’t really hurt him. After that he wasn’t afraid of them any more.

“So then they started changing,” he told me. “They would say things to help me, or to make me laugh. Now they’re like my friends. I’m okay with them, and they’re nice to me, and when they’re not there, it’s just…it’s so quiet, and lonely. I’m used to having them around now; I don’t want them to go away.”

We all have “voices” in our heads, audible or not…voices of self-criticism, doubt, guilt, and fear; voices of the people in our lives who have wounded us, hurtful things we save in our memories and replay over and over to make ourselves miserable. While for most of us the voices are silent and imaginary, for people like Jerry they are audible and real. Yet he was able, despite that much greater challenge, to come to terms with his own failings and learn to accept himself for who he was, to let go of the past and its hurts and failures, and choose to move forward. Once he had made peace with himself, he then faced and conquered his worst fears, even though they were much more tangible and real than most of us can even imagine.

I came away from that encounter both awed and humbled. For someone who is really pretty severely mentally ill, Jerry showed an amazing amount of insight, not to mention plain old common sense. Even those of us fortunate enough to have healthy brains and fairly normal lives could stand to learn a thing or two from him, I think.

* The patient’s name and other identifying details have been altered to protect their privacy.

During one shift, I was assigned to “sit” with a somewhat confused elderly woman. She had wrecked her car, and done an impressive job, judging by the photos her family had brought in of what was left of it. She was in the early stages of dementia, but blissfully unaware of the frequent deficits in her cognition, and my task was to keep her safely in her bed where her injuries could heal, since she thought she was perfectly fine and wanted to get dressed and go home. The primary topic of our conversation that evening centered around how everyone in her family had suddenly lost their minds and started acting as though something was wrong with her. This annoying state of affairs had continued in the hospital, where the staff was treating her just like her family had been.

“They act like I’m stupid!” she told me. “They ask me all these silly questions.” Switching to an ingratiating, patronizing tone, she listed them for me: “‘Can you tell me your name?’ ‘Do you know where you are?’ “Who’s the President?’ ‘Do you know what day it is?’” She rolled her eyes in exasperation and said, “Duh!!!” in exactly the same sarcastic way my kids had said it as teenagers, which very nearly cracked me up. With great effort, however, I managed not to smile, and maintained what I hoped was an appropriately earnest and sympathetic expression.

She leaned toward me then, lowering her voice to a conspiratory tone. “And THEN, do you know what they do?” she asked. I shook my head, not quite trusting myself to speak just yet, and she went on, her eyes widening. “In the middle of the night, they sneak in here, and they CHANGE THE DAY. I’ve SEEN them!”

Tearing the pages off those calendars always made me feel a little guilty, after that.

What’s done is done.

There is no longer a choice of candidates before us – what’s before us now is a choice between sitting on our butts complaining to whoever will listen because our guy didn’t get elected and we don’t think the new guy is going to be any good, or rolling up our sleeves and finding a way to make America great again. I know what I choose. I’m not going to sit around waiting for a rude awakening — for me or anybody else. I’m not going to scrutinize the man’s every move for fault-finding opportunities. I’m certainly not going to hope something bad happens so I can say, “I told you so!”

I’m going to put my trust and faith in President Obama. I’m going to pray for him to make the right decisions as he moves forward. Since I firmly believe that every thought we think is a prayer, I’m also going to think positive thoughts toward him as he takes office and starts working for our country.

The United States of America wasn’t founded by complainers and fault-finders. It also wasn’t founded by perfect people who always did everything right and never made any mistakes. It was founded by doers, and by people who were willing to take what they had to work with, and do the best they could. And that’s the kind of American I want to be.

I love this stuff. This one seemed to peg me pretty well, actually. The link to the site where you can take the test is down there at the bottom.

NBPC – The Daydreamer

Nature, Background, Big Picture, and Color

Take The Perception Personality Image Test at HelloQuizzy