Superglue and Stilettos

I woke up with one thought: Find the superglue.

The first crack of the season had appeared in my thumb. Superglue would stop the pain.

I am surprised cracks took this long.

Winter has been upon us since September, yet January brought a mild break.

I’ll take it.

Once superglue stopped the throbbing, I had to rid myself of the claustrophobia that shows up every winter. 

That claustrophobia is as predictable as cracks on my fingers.

I threw the Christmas tree out the door.

Still couldn’t breathe.

I scanned my basement office, sucked in a deep breath, and filled three empty dog food bags.

After all, I think I can let go of the pre-kindergarten appropriate activity books and faded notes from articles I wrote in 2007.

But have no fear: If the zombie apocalypse comes, I have enough notebooks, paper and pens to carry all of us through the crisis. No matter how long it lasts.

The best part of throwing things away is planning new ideas.

Opening up the spaces of my home opens up my mind to opportunities. It’s cliché, but true.

I think about ways to turn what I have into things people want.

I’m not the target demographic for anyone’s marketing plan so what I want is not what other people want.

I don’t worry about wearing low-cut, tight jeans so other people can look at me. I wear durable denim that can withstand barbed wire fences.

My muck boots keep my feet warm and dry everywhere stilettos won’t.

I appreciate fresh air, not candlelit scents.

I argue with advertisements on the radio instead of adding a stop at that store to my to-do list.

So as I throw out a bunch of junk, I force myself to consider other people who are not like me.

They buy decorations for every new season.

They go to restaurants.

They comb their hair.

Consumer trend watchers note that most consumers are worried about climate change, they are burned out by fast-changing technology and they want decent service.

With technology and artificial intelligence everywhere, people crave human interaction so they can feel real connections to other people and nature.

They worry about eating healthy foods, even as they gobble yet another Big Mac.

They watch grass waving in the wind from inside their pickup that only cools or warms, with no fresh air vent.

They crave adventures as they check their phone once again.

What do I have that they might want?

I have unusual experiences.

I have clean water, lots of dirt, grass and cute baby animals.

I have high quality, healthy meat.

I have natural fiber textures that delight senses.

And I have mud, snow, wind and sun.

This ranch is not a dude ranch and I’m not a babysitter.

I get frustrated by people who complain or who don’t try hard.

I have zero tolerance for hypocrites.

My guest house and my own house would never make it to the cover of House Beautiful. In fact, several of my friends have suggested American Pickers would have a heyday here.

The superglue on my thumb holds as I pack refilled dog food bags out to my garbage area. My mind seesaws between wanting to share all that I love and retreating from the fear of those who might not appreciate it.

Just like the world that trend watchers measure, I enjoy real connections.

Maybe stilettos and superglue can get along.

Maybe iPhones and clean air are compatible.

Maybe we can share all 47 notebooks during a zombie apocalypse.

But afterward, I will slip a muck boot into a stirrup and go hide in a coulee.