Several years ago, when B and I first started working on our place in Piedmont, we decided we would need a color scheme. The gate needed repainting, the round pen needed painting, a couple of fence posts needed exfoliating, and the myriad of future projects we had in mind would also need painting. So, we headed off to Lowe's and chose three paint colors that we could agree on: Ponytail, Barn Brick, and Walnut Grove. I chose them because of the names. I think B actually liked the colors. Go figure.
I've toted these paint color chips in my purse and in the console of my truck ever since, just in case we need them...and we have used them a few times, both in Piedmont and at the farmhouse. I liked the ponytail color, because I wear ponytails a lot (that's a very good reason, no?), and we have a pony.
I liked the barn brick color, because I love red. All reds. Any red. Just ask my kitchen cabinets and my new toothbrush.
Even better reasoning.
I liked the walnut grove color, because I LOVED watching Little House on the Prairie when I was little, and they lived in Walnut Grove (remember that?). My sister and I would pretend that we lived in the "olden days" and live out imaginary scenes all around our house, inside and out.
That's the best reasoning for a paint color yet.
And by the way, Walnut Grove is kind of an army green hue...it's very nice. Not too bright; nice and natural-looking. Whatever that means.
So, on with this Walnut Grove business.... Whenever the baby is sleepy and needs a nap, I will stand up and rock her in my arms, kind of over-the-shoulder style. It's like I have to trick her...she occasionally fights sleep. Which is beyond my field of comprehension at this point, because I am so definitely sleep deprived myself. I could fall asleep standing in line at the post office, if only I could keep the postal employee from going, "I can help you at this window!" I could surely see that waking me up every time.
But back to tricking the baby (sweet, yes?)...if she's up and I'm not trying to hold her in a reclining position, all I have to do is rock her a bit, hum to her a little, and boom. Drool City. And so the other day, I realized that I don't know what I'm humming to her. I don't purposefully choose a tune and commence to hummin'. It just happens.
Last time I put her to sleep, I actually paid attention to the humming and tried to figure out the song I was lulling her with...it sounded so familiar...and I obviously knew it well...wait a minute...is it? Was it? Holy calf and cow, Batman...I'm humming the theme song to Little House on the Prairie!
What does this say about me? That this song is so embedded in my psyche that I hum it without even KNOWING I'm humming it?
I was obviously meant for butter churns and bonnets...that's all I can figure.