Purging Leads To Using The Good China

My mother never had pretty dinnerware, nor did she ever have a single piece of China. We ate off melamine plates where the coating eventually bubbled up and flaked off, or unremarkable stoneware with forgettable designs in the 70's colors of brown, gold, and avocado. Mother was never frivolous in decorating and looking back I realize that even when I was a child, she preferred masculine designs and practicality over anything truly feminine. But when I was eighteen, I thought she 'settled' for 'dull' and I wanted to do something nice for her.

My first decent paying job was working in the petroleum industry with my then soon-to-be spouse in Louisiana. Every Friday night we'd head to Ruston for groceries and it was at a particular grocery store that I found a 'deal'. The deal was to spend a set minimum of dollars that would in turn allow you to purchase one Johann Haviland Dinner Set of Bavarian, Germany China a week for something like five dollars. (Dinner plate, salad plate, fruit bowl, tea cup and cup saucer). Mother's favorite color was blue and she preferred silver over gold, so this set touched my heart. Over the course of eight weeks I was able to buy eight Dinner Sets and at Christmas of 1981, this was my gift to her. She seemed to genuinely like them and I felt satisfied that I'd given her something really pretty.

Over the course of the next six years, I never saw the China. She didn't have a China hutch, so it wasn't surprising. But in 1987, she and Daddy bought an old house on a beautiful piece of land and someone built her shelving in the kitchen. For the first time, she displayed the China. The shelves were high up on the ten foot walls, and this is where the China sat, undisturbed, for close to twenty-eight years, give or take. It was never dusted, never washed, and certainly never used. 

And then the day came when she and Daddy moved from that house and in the process, she asked if I wanted the China back. She said she had nowhere to put it and if I wanted it, I could have it. Of course I took it! I brought it home, washed it, and then? I put it out of sight in cabinets because I didn't have a cabinet or hutch to display it. Some years later, we moved, and again, the China was hidden in cabinets for a time. 

In 2023 I found an antique China cabinet and hutch, and for the first time, I had a place to display my China. The only problem was, I also had a more complete set of my mother-in-law's China to display and the hutch was a bit crowded. But, I did what I could and both were displayed.

In early 2025, my husband and I decided that where our present home is located is not an area that either of us wish to spend our final years. Our plan is to sell this property and move elsewhere, and at that time he will retire. These plans, as well as the knowledge that we abhor the act of moving, led me to start 'purging'. 

I started in my closet: If it didn't fit well, toss it. If I'd not worn it in a year, toss it. If it was ugly, toss it. Next would be my what-nots, books, music CDs, DVDs, and so on. I tackled our storage shed as well. To date, I've carried 15 car loads of stuff to the local donation center. And then came the kitchen.

I had a stack of assorted stoneware, three partial sets to be exact. One I loved, but a child of mine had broken a ten piece set down to four plates. Another was a partial set I don't even recall when or where I acquired. The last was a hand-me-down set, and while pretty, they were all chipped and held no sentimental value. My goal was to donate all of these plates and purchase Corelle plates. Corelle, while not the prettiest plates, are light-weight and durable. But, for some reason, I held off donating any. My reasoning was that I'd donate all these plates just as soon as I could afford to buy the Corelle plates, but until then, I'd keep them.

Then came the China. My now late-mother-in-law's China isn't going anywhere. It's a very pretty and complete set, and it means a lot to my husband. It might someday mean a lot to our daughters or granddaughters. But the set I bought for my mother? Several of the cups were cracked and though I am a coffee and tea drinker, the cups were just too dainty and small for me. And while I didn't love the idea of donating the set, it was now mine to do with whatsoever I wanted.

Two weeks ago I was getting everything out of the cabinets to do just that, and I wrapped and boxed the cups and saucers first. Next I picked up a plate and was about to wrap it when I stopped. It was a beautiful plate. It felt 'right' in my hands. I loved the way it felt. I put it down and picked up the small fruit bowl. I had the same feeling: It was beautiful, it felt right, and I loved the way it felt. I had the same reaction with the salad plate. I put the dish down and opened the cabinet where the stack of mismatched stoneware plates sat. I took one of each of the three designs down. I looked at them, I held them, and you know what I felt? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I looked back at the China plates and I smiled. 

Why not? Why the heck not?

Forty-four years ago, in the fall of 1981, I saw these beautiful plates and I loved the thought of giving my Momma something pretty. Forty-four years ago I accomplished that goal. Then the day came when she gave them back to me, a gift I'd failed to realize. 

I asked myself, 'What good are gifts that remain hidden, never used?' 

On that day I donated all of the stoneware minus four plates that I kept for nuking. That night, for the first time in forty-four years, my China was used for a meal. It's been two weeks now and my China is used for every meal, and every single time I grab a plate, I feel...HAPPY! Genuinely HAPPY!

Sometimes you just have to use the good China!

2025, Ancestry, and Wild Things

 November 11, 2025

We're nearing the end of 2025, and two days ago I discovered that studying my familial ancestry is angering a few family members. Why, might you ask? Because what I'm uncovering is 'embarrassing' and 'bringing shame' to 'the family'. One person even went so far as to tell me that God forgave generational sins, would 'cover' generational curses, and I needed to stop digging stuff up! When I read that mini-sermon and admonishment, I said aloud, "What the hell? What is the sin? What is the curse? Who the hell does this person think they are?" And then I laughed at the hilarity of it all!

Let's step back to many moons ago when I was in my late teens and my maternal grandmother lived with us. From the time I was a small child, I was held captive by her stories of ancestors and the times they lived in. She was in her early eighties and I was wise enough to know that she wouldn't live forever. Over several days I sat near her with pen and paper as she gave me names, correct spellings, dates, locations and stories of people that came before she and I. When we'd finished, she said that she hoped those things wouldn't die with her and that someone would keep a record. I promised her I would.

Fast forward to the invention of the internet and my discovery of Ancestry.com. I made a tree and taking Grandmother's notes, I started filling it in. Thankfully, extended family were also on the site and they, too, were making a record of what their elder family had relayed to them. Of course, sometimes the information was absolutely ridiculous.

One distant cousin on one line had told everyone we were descendants of a great and mighty Indian Chief. She stated that he had married a white woman and they had a bunch of kids, and one of those kids was our ancestor. One winter evening I had time on my hands and started researching by dates and ages, as well as the history of this Indian Chief. Within a couple of hours I had disproven the distant cousin's claims because: 1) The Chief hated white people and killed all he came in contact with, including women and infants, and 2) In order for that Chief to have impregnated the supposed white woman, that woman would have been four years old at the time of the birth of her THIRD child! A few years later when I, along with a male sibling, sent in our DNA swabs for analysis, it came back that there was not a drop of NAI blood anywhere along that particular bloodline! 

But, for the most part, I've been able to determine, through all the factual resources offered by the website, a pretty clear picture of my family tree back to the early 1800's for most, and back to the early 1700's for one particular line. And then comes the DNA matching, and that is both confusing and extremely fascinating. The confusion comes in trying to determine 'who' links us, and to date, there is no fast or easy way to do this. But the fascinating part is realizing how many people I share segments of my DNA with, where they are all located, AND the fact that I am linked to people of different races than my own! When Ancestry.com shows me a face and states that this is my DNA cousin, and I find my photo beside the photo of a woman or man of a different race, I smile because I find it absolutely beautiful!

THIS is the part that infuriates, embarrasses, and brings shame to my family members! Meanwhile, I'm sitting here infuriated, embarrassed and ashamed that I am related to such narrow-minded, hate filled people, and people who profess to be Christians at that!

As a believer in God, and the story of Adam and Eve, I believe that we all originated from two individuals from long, long ago. It is because of this that I have always felt that any racist views and opinions are wrong. If I love God, which I do, then I must love my beginnings, which I also do, and I must love and accept all humans as brothers and sisters, which they are, according to the Holy Bible. The most beautiful tapestries are woven with colorful threads and ofttimes wild textures, just like this life. And I for one, appreciate that work of art that only God could create. 

This time of year I used to sit for hours in the hunting blind. I carried my binoculars, my camera, and my journal. A gentle breeze was the only sound and eventually I'd be blessed with the sight of grey fox, porcupine, badgers, skunks, white tail deer, mule deer, and javelina coming in to the feeder or water trough. Many times all would feed together, keeping a respectful distance, but allowing the other wild creatures to quench their hunger or their thirst without any fighting. 

If the wild things of the world can be respectful toward one another, why do some humans have to be such ass-holes to other humans??? It's 2025, for crying out loud!

Be kind, be respectful, and be a blessing!

Jenn

Throwing ALL My Old Journals Away

 I've been writing since I learned how to hold a pencil and create words. Creating sentences from random words has always been a great love of mine, and so it is little wonder that I started journaling as a kid. Of course, back then it was called 'writing in a diary', and all young girls seemed to have one. But the task remained the same: Write down what you're feeling, seeing, thinking, and keep it safely tucked away for whatever reason. So? I did that and have done that for years upon years.

As I grew older I thought that by writing about my thoughts and my feelings it would later help my children and grandchildren learn who I was and what made me tick. I felt that was important, but not in a narcissistic way. Having lost my paternal grandmother when I was six, I've grieved her death for over fifty-five years simply because I never got to know her as anyone except my beloved 'Nanny'. And through those fifty-five years of missing her, I've only gotten small glimpses into who she was as a woman, a person who was not 'just' my grandmother. It was because of her that I felt my children and grandchildren should be left some kind of record of who I was, just in case they ever cared to know and I wasn't around for them to ask.

And then I started reading those journals and dammit! I became so depressed, so angry, so embarrassed!

I found that I tended to journal when I was angry, or hurt, or horribly depressed. I wrote about all the things that had hurt me, all the things that had angered me, and all the things I never seemed to get over. 

And I sat back and started asking myself, "Self? Is this the shit you want to be remembered by? Is this the shit you want to burden your children and grandchildren with?"

The answer is an absolute "NO!"

Truth is? I'd rather not be remembered at all than be remembered by some shit that hurt me sixty years ago!

SO, as painful as it is, and it is indeed painful, those journals are going into the trash!

If I can't journal something positive, kind, and sweet, then I damned sure don't need to pass that shit on down!

In Memory Of...

 Just a few days ago a family member notified me that she'd found a TikTok video inferring that the biological mother of my first grandchild had passed away. I found the video and initiated a search on the world-wide web for information that could prove, hopefully disprove, that this young woman was in fact deceased. After three days of searching and exhausting every avenue I could find, and sometimes having to pay for information that was lacking, I was no closer than when I'd started. This was even after I had a possible date of her death, per the video, and the fact that the woman's sister had made the video and the mother had commented that seeing the video had 'tore her up'. I was frustrated, and then remembered a dear young lady who is known for her ability to 'dig up shit on anybody anywhere'. Within five minutes this young lady had found that the young woman I was inquiring about had indeed passed two years prior, AND we had a cause of death: fetanyl. 

Sadly, I am not surprised. Heartbroken that nothing I ever did or said got through to her. I am heartbroken that she bore at least four children, one of which I adopted, two that were taken from her in their infancy, and the last is now probably in foster care as well. Heartbroken that such a funny, intelligent, outgoing, and attractive woman was so scarred and lost that addiction ruled her life and eventually took her life. 

But what hurts the most is that not a single person, not even her own mother or sister, found her life worth enough to write and post an obituary, nor correct her age! 

Don't bother telling me that her actions were so embarrassing that they couldn't bring themselves to pay her that last respect because that would be an absolute distortion of the truth! She was a product of her parent's neglect, and perhaps even abuse that was overlooked, ignored, or found unimportant by them. I believe this because they all 'use' in one form or another and when my grandchild was horribly abused by one of the mother's family members while in the maternal grandmother's care, after that man's conviction the maternal grandmother embraced the abuser, going so far as to move and live close to him for over twenty years and counting! 

What I do know is this: Georgia bore at least four children and though her love was skewered by the neglect and probably abuse she suffered through as a child, she loved those babies as best she could, even if it wasn't the right or normal way. I know that she was funny, had a great sense of humor, had a beautiful laugh and smile, was intelligent when sober, and always filled with an energy that I envied. Sadly, her ability to choose upright friends was nonexistent and sadder still, she never learned that those people really didn't give a damn about her. 

She was an addict; scarred by her childhood and poor decisions as an adult, and she leaned on drugs to cover the pain, the memories, and maybe give herself a few minutes of drug-induced joy. And in the end, that addiction took her life at the age of about 41.. (The Lost Faces of Fetanyl post says she was 34 and that is absolutely incorrect. She was 19 when she gave birth to her first child, my grandchild, and she died the day after his 22 birthday.) 

I loved her. I truly did. She gave me my first grandchild, one of the most beautiful gifts I've ever been given, and I'll always love her for that. 

You were a beautiful and tender woman, Georgia. You deserved better and I'm sorry your own family failed you. Your firstborn will remember you. That is my promise. He only wished that he'd been able to meet and know you when you got clean & sober. We'll always regret you never made it.

In Loving Memory 

of

Georgia Faye Lucille Stampley, abt. 1982 to August 3rd, 2023.

Lost Little Girl, Mother, and Friend.

The Old Way of Living

People now days treat 'living off the grid' as a fad, a 'new' venture to try. But it really isn't. Fact is, living ON the grid is the thing that is 'new'.
Electricity was first installed in city houses in the late 1800's, about 1870, but rural cooperatives didn't reach rural areas until much later.
"The idea of providing federal assistance to accomplish rural electrification gained ground rapidly when President Roosevelt took office in 1933. On May 11, 1935, Roosevelt signed Executive Order No. 7037 establishing the Rural Electrification Administration (REA). It was not until a year later that the Rural Electrification Act was passed and the lending program that became the REA got underway.
Within four years following the close of the World War II, the number of rural electric systems in operation doubled, the number of consumers connected more than tripled and the miles of energized line grew more than five-fold. By 1953, more than 90 percent of U.S. farms had electricity." (NRECA website)
In the late 60's I can remember visiting my grandparent's house in the Big Thicket of Texas and while they did have electric, they had not had it long. There were not numerous plug-ins, and the light fixtures were all drop lights with pull chains. And, there was no wasting of electric, ever, even into the 70's. The only things that received constant 'juice' were the refrigerator and the freezer. Nothing else. Grandpa watched the ten o'clock news, so the television was turned on at ten o'clock and turned off as soon as the news ended. Often family would visit and watch football, but Grandpa most usually grabbed his shotgun and went to the woods to hunt squirrel or talk to God. If it were just he and Grandmother, lights came on when it got dark outside and they went off as soon as you left a room or went to bed. They lived frugally; first out of necessity because Grandpa was an old time preacher and he and Grandmother were never even middle class. Secondly, they came from an era where you did not waste anything, be it food or electricity. You used what you needed and no more.
In 2001 I had the wonderful opportunity to meet a very special elderly lady who was in her late 80's when I met her, and was also a spinster. I would eventually become her home health aide where I would wake her every morning, help her out of bed, prepare her breakfast, I cleaned her home, and in the evening I would come back and help her into bed, locking the house behind me when I exited. Being that she was also my neighbor, we became great friends and I would often visit just to enjoy her company.
She was the granddaughter of slaves, her own parents having been born into slavery but freed before they truly understood. She had worked in the fields, on the family farm, and as her mother's constant companion until her death. She knew poverty, she knew prejudice, she knew hard work, and she knew how to live 'sparingly', or frugally as we know it today.
She lived in an older drafty house that was fully wired for electric. She had two freezers, a large refrigerator, a propane stove, a microwave oven, a washing machine, a propane gas dryer, a propane hot water heater, a small propane heater in the bathroom, one window ac unit, one window box fan, a television, and a wood burning heater. When she was in her early 90's, she was out chopping firewood one morning when she stumbled, fell and broke her hip and her ankle. This was the reason I became her home health aide.
She tried to 'play dumb' on many occasions, but her wisdom was something that I shall take with me now as I begin this 'off grid' journey.
Her electric bill was usually twenty-five to thirty-five dollars a month, and even that offended her and she would say, "I have got to cut back!"
1) She kept her freezers packed full of meats and produce. If they were full they didn't have to work so hard.
2) She left nothing plugged in all the time except for the freezers, the refrigerator, and one wall clock. If she needed the microwave, she plugged it in, used it, and then unplugged it as soon as she was done. The same with her television, window ac, box fan and so on. She said that the microwave pulled 'juice' just to keep the little display light on. The other appliances and such she unplugged in case there was a lightning storm.
3) We did laundry one day a week and if it was not raining, I hung all of the laundry on her long clothesline to dry. We only used the dryer if it was raining. No exceptions. I also starched her pillow cases on the stove, hung them on the clothesline and ironed them once they were dry. She said that the starch helped keep them cleaner longer.
4) She only plugged in and turned on the window ac if it was hotter than 95 degrees out, but rarely even then. Instead she preferred to sit outside on her front porch and catch a breeze for free. if it was unbearably hot, she did allow me to turn on the window box fan at night in her bedroom, but only on 'low'.
5) In the winter, no matter how cold it was, she refused to sleep with ANY heat on. Instead, she slept under a pile of old handmade quilts and she would only get out of bed the next morning after I had a good fire going in the wood heater in the living room. And, once she was up, dressed, and had eaten breakfast, the door from the living room into the hallway was shut. She said, "I don't need to heat this whole house. I'm only going to be in this one room." (She did the same on the few rare occasions she allowed me to turn the window ac on.)
6) Only one light on at a time, unless I was cooking in the kitchen and she was sitting in the living room. "It was a waste," she said, "to burn lights in rooms when nobody is in them."

As I prepare for my new 'path' in life, I look around my current on-grid house and I see waste everywhere! Not only does my microwave stay plugged in with a little green light to let me know it's ready for use, but I also have a digital clock on my electric stove. A blue button is lit on my coffee maker and another green light flashes on my counter top ice maker. There are three people in this house now and there are three televisions on. There are 8 'rooms' in this house, six of which currently have lights on, and as I wrote above, there are only three of us inside this house. Television satellite boxes, computers, X-Boxes, digital clocks, fluorescent lights over sinks, phone chargers, electric razors charging, electric toothbrush charging, and computer modem constantly flashing lights 24/7, 365 days a year. This does not include window acs, electric space heaters, or any appliances.

We have become a spoiled bunch of people dwelling upon this earth, taking so much for granted, and we don't have a clue as to what it really means to live 'sparingly' anymore.

This is not some romanticized idea or 'fad' that I have driving me as I am hurled down this path of learning how to live carefully and frugally. It is, in fact, a desire to get back to the 'old' way of living, where my husband and I have more control over how we live and where we spend his hard earned money. It is a path born out of necessity: either follow this 'new' scary path and build a dream, or stay imprisoned by an electric company and allow our dream to slip away.

The old way of living worked for thousands of years and this new 'electricized' way has been around only about 146 years and not only has it made people 'soft' and careless, it's simply not working for some of us.

Major Changes...

Major changes are happening for us, even as I sit at this keyboard and write this update.

Funny thing about life; it happens whether you are ready for it or not! Likewise, the funny thing about some dreams is that they, too, will happen, and most times, when you least expect them to.

Well, our dream has been to retire to the ranch; to live there and just enjoy the peace, the quiet, the slower pace, and getting back to living frugally and carefully. My husband and I spend as much time there as possible, always hating to leave, always wishing we didn't have to. Just two weekends ago while I was preparing to leave, I looked around and said loudly, "I HATE leaving this place! I HATE having 2 houses to upkeep! And, I HATE this back and forth crap!"
Some people can thrive with 2nd, even 3rd homes. I am not one of those people!
I'm already a natural born scatter-brain, a life-long 'sufferer' of ADD, an over-fifty menopausal brain damaged woman who can't remember from room to room what she's in the room for. I'm also the world's most obnoxious packer of bags and every time I head out to the cabin for a weekend I need a U-Haul just to carry all the crap I 'must' have. I spend hours packing for one night, an hour to load it in the pick-up, get to destination and I spend 20 minutes unloading it into the cabin. As I prepare to leave and head back to civilization, I spend an hour packing it all back into the pick-up, an hour unloading it back at the town-house, and three or four hours unpacking the bags and putting stuff back where it belongs.
It's ridiculous and most aggravating!
People say, "Buy two of everything and keep one set at the in-town house and one set at the cabin." Well, that works fine for some things, but not medicines, not writing materials, not current projects that you're working on daily, (crocheting, sewing, journaling, etc.), and not really clothing since there isn't a washing machine at the 'ranch', and of course, fire arms...We do not leave our fire arms. Not ever.
And, then there is the financial aspect of supporting two separate houses. At the cabin we have solar, propane, we have to haul water, and our phone reception is skittish, at best. In town we have co-op electric, city water, sewer, garbage pick-up, land line telephones, satellite television, high speed internet, and while we do have propane, we don't have propane heat or stove. In town we also have enormous utility bills, mainly electric, and it just keeps getting higher and higher, and we stay no warmer in winter. In fact, we FREEZE all winter long! Add to this that my husband is in the oil field business and the past fourteen months have been very bad.
Last week I received an electric bill that almost gave me a stroke! I'm not joking, my blood pressure went sky high and I started having chest pains again. I called the electric company to see if there was any way that we might could work something out. All I needed was 5 more days. Just five. The problem is, I'm still paying land notes on the ranch and for the past 14 months I have been paying electric bills before land notes. I mean, you have to keep your electric, right? Well, the electric company was not cooperative and the representative said, "You have to have electric, so even though your disconnect date is February 21rst, I know you'll figure out something. You can borrow from relatives or take out a loan somewhere, but you'll get the money." I asked, "And what about next month, and the month after that?" The representative said, "Maybe you can borrow again." At that point my whole life seemed to flash before my eyes.
All of my life the electric companies have held my family and I hostage. When I was a child, my dad, like my husband, worked construction, and there were times when the money was lean and hard to come by. Time and time again, my parents, my brothers and I, then later my husband and I, and our children, have had to do without necessities JUST to keep 'the lights on'. It never mattered how frugal and careful we were with electric, the prices continued to escalate and we have lived in constant fear of 'having our lights turned off' for late or non-payment.
And for what? Just so we can make our lives easier, maybe even more comfortable? And to make matters worse, the electric companies KNOW that they can charge whatever the heck they want to charge and the people will suck it up and pay.
Take for instance out here in western Texas. For me to get electric to my cabin I am looking at a charge of around $80,000. JUST to get electric to a pole on my property! Next I have to 'buy' a transformer, then a pole with a meter loop that is determined by the electric company, and if that passes their inspection, then I get to pay a deposit and a connect fee, and then I get to pay a monthly fee which includes basically TWO bills in one: a provider charge and a transfer fee.
They know that you can't live without electric and they know that you will pay them whatever they demand.
Well, not ALL of us!
Some of us are just TIRED of the crap! My husband and I are among those who have just HAD IT with electric companies!
And, so, we made a major decision and now we are in the throes of major changes in our lives. By the 22nd we will be living full time at the cabin, Out Where the Wild Things Grow! It will not be easy, but it is necessary. Our land will come first, followed by propane, water, taxes, etcetera, and we'll be making monthly payments to the electric company with what is left over until they are paid in full and out of our lives.
I meet with a realtor tomorrow to list my in-town house and I will spend the next few days taking the necessities out to the cabin. Hopefully we'll be erecting a temporary fence to keep the dogs in and the critters out this coming weekend. My son loves school, so he will start riding the bus a week from today. So many people, including him, think that this is horrible, but I just keep reminding them that 30 miles one way to school isn't 'horrible'. When I was a kid my brothers and I rode a big yellow school bus loaded with bullying brats one hour and forty-five minutes twice a day. My son's bus is a Ford Explorer with a total of maybe five kids and I think her round trip for the route 2x a day is an hour and a half, maximum. Eventually we'll have a satellite phone, maybe even broadband internet. I'll still haul water regularly because drilling a water well in our area can be upwards of $60,000. and that isn't guaranteed. We will be adding water catchment systems as soon as possible, as well as adding to our existing battery bank and solar panels.
But for now, we'll live carefully and minimally until we get things, such as debts, under control.
I am both excited and very scared. Thankfully I have neighbors who have been living off-grid for years and they are encouraging us greatly! I don't know what I'd do without those wonderful people! I am so blessed!!!
I will post again, just not sure when that will be. Until then, Be Blessed in All that You do!

Coon fight at 3am

I was awakened at 3am this morning by the horrible cries of a critter underneath the cabin. I turned on the outside lights in hopes of seeing exactly what kind of critter was in distress. The cries moved from underneath the cabin to underneath the ATV and there was a lot of thumping around on the ground, in addition to the cries. I opened the front door and at that moment, 2 or 3 coons ran under the house. I opened the screen door and stepped onto the front step when a huge ball of fur, similar in movement to that of an oblong tumbleweed, rolled out from under the ATV and into the yard. This ball of fur went to and fro, this way and that away, over here and out yonder. I finally saw a tail and determined that it was two large coons. I shouted, "STOP IT!", and they continued to roll around the yard. I finally yelled, "Enough of that shit!". The rolling stopped, and this gray boar coon released the darker coon and looked my way. Then he stood up and eyed me, and I swear he stood 4' tall! He got down on all fours and started toward me and I stepped off the porch to pick up a piece of a 2x4. That's when I remembered the coons that had ran under the house and I wondered if they were going to jump me from behind, as well as wondering just how smart it was for me to be battling with a mad boar coon outside at 3am while my husband was snoring soundly inside. :/ But, the boar coon stopped and decided that I wasn't worth his time, then turned and slowly made his way out of the yard, grumbling the entire time. The other coon was slower about getting up and was still sitting in the yard licking it's wounds when I went back inside.

After daylight Larry and I found hair and blood all around the yard.

This place truly is...Out where the wild things LIVE!