Alien Invasion

Somehow, I thought this deployment would be easier given that we’ve been through the experience before and know what to expect. As usual, life proved just as unpredictable as ever when it comes to human emotions. A few weeks ago, I began having what my doctor called “panic attacks,” but for me it was as if an explosion went off inside my body with the racing heart, profuse sweating, and frantic thoughts.

Confused and unnerved, I opted to take a break from work and started driving around town in my car crying and trying to figure out how to expel the demons. In retrospect, the scene is quite amusing but in the thick of the moment, these sudden emotions felt like an alien invasion bent on destruction. The only other times I’ve had episodes like these involved trying to shop at Wal-mart in rush hour. Yet unlike shopping, I couldn’t just leave my cart and exit the store to drive home to escape the anxiety. This particular panic episode would require another solution.

Ironically, the movie Aliens was on TV recently and watching it was surreal…especially the alien-bursting-from-the-chest nightmares that Sigourney Weaver’s character has throughout the movie. It made me wonder if the writer(s) of the original Alien story experienced panic attacks and decided to make up a story about what it would feel like to have one. Speaking from experience, I think they got it exactly right. Your fears and anxieties hunt you down and when they catch you, they don't kill you, but instead implant the evil seeds of panic in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, the panic rises up and can feel like it will burst through your chest and kill you instantly.

After a while, it became clear the aliens weren’t going to leave me on their own accord. I would need some type of exorcist to help me out on this one. Not being catholic and unaware of any local, practicing exorcists, I opted for some counseling/therapy and a trip to my doctor. I can’t say it has been a miracle cure, but slowly day-by-day and week-by-week I have started to feel good again. Being able finally to get good, quality sleep has transformed me, shockingly, into a morning person. OK, I’m not a member of the Perky Morning Crowd, but getting up in the mornings definitely has become easier and even (dare I say) enjoyable.

Cornucopia of Colors

October is my favorite time of year with the landscape transforming before our eyes as the foliage assumes its annual cornucopia of colors. Each day brings a new view as nearby farmers combine their fields from dawn until way past dusk. Tractors and wagons full of grain sit waiting for transport to market. The scene is one that has been played out for generations and, at times, it can be hard to tell exactly which decade we are in as most small farmers have older equipment because it works, is easily repaired, and “paid for.”

We have an old Allis Chalmers 1945 WD tractor that we consider the workhorse of our farm. We use it to move bales, till up gardens and fields, and even to pull sleds in the winter. A few years ago, my husband bought a gallon of orange paint hoping to fix up his "baby," but that paint still sits unopened on a barn shelf. I actually prefer the current well-worn patina and love using discarded farm machinery and implements as cherished ornaments in my landscape. They have a history and interest each with its own story to tell.

The current economy certainly has most people using things longer and fixing up the old rather than buying new. This concept is well-known to most country folk as life here is slower and less prone to things trendy and fancy. Everyone chooses their lifestyle and that choice says something about you. Our lifestyle probably says simple, quiet, and peaceful. Home should be a haven to escape life’s stresses as well as a place to share with family and friends.

If you were to visit our home, you’d find a long lane with an acre of prairie grass and wildflowers near a line of cottonwood and sugar maple trees. There are various evergreens, a big weeping willow, apple trees, and tall maples in the front yard surrounding our front porch (which is wall-to-wall windows to enjoy the view without mosquitoes). Our dinnerware consists of mismatched utensils, black and white enamelware plates, and mason jars for drinking.

The mason jars didn’t happen on purpose, really, but evolved when our other glasses broke one-by-one and we were short on glassware. I substituted mason jars here and there and we drink from them exclusively now. Fittingly, the mason jars suit our simple, country lifestyle much like that old, (sort of) orange ’45 WD tractor. If you happen to see my husband out on his baby in the field, ask him if he ever plans to restore that old tractor.