Moods and the like

Ever have one of those days where you didn't do much more than go from one mood to the next, generally before you had time to process said mood? I am not even sure why I insist on processing moods, I just do. Today was one of those days and currently the mood is very good. It's as if I've had too much and too little on my mind at the same time to make much sense of anything today.

So that's what we're doing, we are processing the various moods that flitted through my world today. I am working very hard at understanding my moods these days, as opposed to controlling them which often ends with the opposite result.

I suppose one of the benefits of being kicked off the island is that I now have time to sit back and think about these moods, or feelings, whatever term you are most comfortable with. I've found that the self reflection that comes almost without thought lately is both funny and enlightening in many cases.

I was kinda down in the dumps this morning, dreading "having" to go clean up the Kingston pasture, complaining about "having" to go to the grocery store. There was no real reason for me to take my mood out on the pasture or Albertsons for that matter because frankly I liked them both. I wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to the grocery store and I sure wasn't pissy cause I "had" to go to Kingston, see two of the most beautiful horses I've ever met and spend an hour and a half exercising in the fresh air. I was pissy cause I wanted answers to questions that likely have no answers yet. That being said, I know the answers will come, I anticipated a slow process before the asking. It still makes me a little nutty and prior to my island departure I'd attempted to "control" these moods/feelings. The resulting behavior would likely have been the same, I'd have bitched about "having" to clean the pasture about "having" to go grocery shopping however I would not have thought so hard about why I was being so pissy. I'd have been pissy in my head, all by my lonesome, perhaps snipped at someone whom didn't deserve it or toss out a sarcastic remark at, or about, someone that didn't deserve it and pretend it was stress, and likely congratulate myself for my very sharp (and sometimes hurtful) wit.

Today however I thought about it and realized I was simply anxious for the answer to a question I didn't expect an answer for right away.

It helped that a friend sent me the littlebudda.com email about patience and waiting.

It helped that I've started this process of trying to understand rather than control.

I did not enjoy grocery shopping however it wasn't the act that I didn't like today; I've always loved to grocery shop. I've always loved to cook but I LOVE to grocery shop, always have. I didn't like it today because the budget wasn't "pretend", it was real and that pisses me off. It's been a long time since the budget was strict and not simply a guide line for my math games in the grocery store aisles. And that my friends pisses me off, I understood that standing there trying to decide between seven pounds of apples vs. five pounds of carrots. I felt much better once I got it; I didn't like it anymore than I did before the realization but I felt better.

I always enjoy Kingston and today was no exception. I understood what the problem was there well before I turned in the drive and hauled the wheelbarrow out of the truck. I started feeling all "poor me" about money and questions left unanswered and drifted into "and now you have to go shovel shit, lovely". I even spent half of the drive trying to come up with a cute t-shirt that stated something along the lines of "I might shovel shit but I sure don't take it". Silly no? Yes. It's not about money, it's not about shoveling shit, and the situation is a far cry from "poor me".  I still went there for about half the drive. I did however understand my silliness; I resent this starting over bullshit etc etc. And sometimes even though I chose this starting over bullshit I get pissy about it. I did cheer up the minute I pulled in the drive and unloaded the wheelbarrow because honestly there is no where I'd rather be then taking care of "the ponies" and sucking the joy out of that for myself was downright hurtful.

After I finished in Kingston I went to a consignment store I had driven by many times. I have no jeans that fit right anymore. Well I have one pair that I feel decent in and maybe three others that technically fit; one of which fits for about five minutes than sags off my ass and two that I've hated since I made the mistake of buying them about four years ago!

I debated if I ought to stop, did I really "need" jeans? I don't go anywhere, I can do laundry every day if I want to (not that I do), no one cares but me that my jeans are falling off my ass. I stopped, I care and today that is enough for me. I don't care to the point of hurting the finances however I was talking a consignment store.

Long story short, after I stopped arguing with myself I pulled a couple pair of jeans into the dressing room, one was too short in the leg and one fit perfectly. I put the one pair back and paid a mere 10.85 for the pair that fit perfectly. There is nothing that feels better than a good fitting pair of blue jeans in my opinion. I was pretty damn proud of myself and unfortunately part of that pride came with the size of the jeans I had tried on.

Now I would have basked in the delight of a size three all the way home, not allowing myself to think too much about it. Actually that's bullshit, I did not want to think about why I was so pleased cause the part of me that refuses to shut up these days knew exactly why I was dancing about in the truck cab holding a bag that contained a new size three.

My mom called me before I could put the damned bag on the seat and start the truck. Eventually I mentioned that I "had" to buy jeans cause none of mine "fit me right" anymore. I hadn't gotten out of the parking lot before she was calling me on my bullshit. I offered up everything I could think of to counteract her point which was, there was still a part of me that LOVED buying a size three, and I hadn't even told her the size I bought (still haven't).

I blamed my brothers for calling me "Carol the Barrel" when I was a kid, causing this odd body image problem. She laughed and suggested perhaps it was control and not "the boys". I suggested that perhaps I wasn't losing weight just "redistributing" the weight. She laughed and told me that at least I wasn't claiming to weigh more than I did. I pointed out that physically speaking I did a lot more these days and we both agreed.

She was right, it was always control. The only difference today is that I am not controlling my weight (the inside) because I can't control the outside world. Today I know what I am capable of doing to myself so I don't "accidentally" or "subconsciously" drop weight.

I walked away (drove home) from that conversation knowing a few things, the obsession won't ever really go away however it does not have to hurt me. I can see it for it is and although I still think it's super cool to slip on a size three it is not who I am, it's not who I have to be, and if it is what my body is today I can sleep well knowing it's largely due to exercise and only a fraction is about control.

That's growth in my book :-)

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Trees

This morning I caught Sam's cold,
Ronnie Dun singing about life these days,
and suddenly your face staring at me through the trees

The trees will be forever changed now

I can't decide if it's your face or her father's
too many minutes studying through the different panes
has left me confused and grieving

for the trees that are no longer simple
trees but pictures of your face
or his, back before you both left

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Self restraint is the worst

I want to write about something that is not ready for the blog so instead of staring at the blank page I'm gonna go right ahead and post a complaint!

I absolutely dislike having to restrain myself and tonight that's about all I have to say!

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Kingston Ponies & doing what needs to be done

I have been cleaning up after the "Kingston Ponies" for a couple months now and wanted to touch on what they've done for me.

It's not fair to call them Ponies considering Davey is a good 17hh and Chopin as not far behind him, if at all. They are huge and make my crew look like ponies! I can literally stand under Davey's head and Not reach his chin, I'm not tall I am only 5'4" however...I've had the chance to stand under Davey plenty because he is the single most curious horse I've ever met. I am pretty sure he can't understand why I am so interested in the wheelbarrow I push around the pasture and not fawning over him for the two hours it takes to clean their pasture. The pasture is also huge, and beautiful, and peaceful, and one hell of a work out!

That's Davey, the wheelbarrow, and me. If I didn't know better I'd think he was trying to eat my head. He's not, he nuzzles every chance he gets.

In any case, Davey isn't the story really. The story today is "Doing what needs to be done"; it's a lesson most of us who grew up without the wonder that is Facebook and instant success learned as children. 

When I lost my job back in December (officially speaking it was Jan 1st; the official story and the reality are worlds apart) I sat down with about five different plans to never go back to software again. 

I'd say it was about four months into it when I realized one of my "plans" was all about software and that my heart simply wasn't there anymore. It was a disappointing revelation however it did lead up to meeting the Kingston Ponies. 

I very quietly posted an ad on Craigslist to do, what in my head was "below" my abilities, cleaning stalls. I did it quietly because I was embarrassed; had I fallen that far? Was I seriously thinking this was a good idea? I tucked my embarrassment away and remembered that the ponies here didn't care what I did to earn the money that we needed to make sure they didn't suffer through my loss of job. The idea was to make enough on the side to support the ponies and beyond that I didn't really care. 

I'm no longer embarrassed at this idea of cleaning after other animals to earn my keep as the partner to the ones I have here at home. I am actually proud of the work I have done, to date, in this weird bizarre twist of my life; if one can be proud of cleaning various pastures and goat houses that is.

I am flabbergasted today (it's a good word not often used and it fits).  I go to Kingston twice a week and push around a good 200 lbs of shit for a good two hours up and down a hill that rivals the one at home. I go once a week and clean out a goat house that smells pretty rank being it is full of goat pee soaked straw (which is heavy by the way). I spend the better part of every day trying to work out how to turn this into what I want to do with my life, which is care for the ponies. I don't hate software or the industry that helped me get where I am today, I'm just done, tired, burnt out and not interested anymore. I think at this stage of my life I have the luxury of really examining what I want to do with my time, the software industry allowed that and I am thankful. I do not however understand the many walking around today as if they aren't required to bust their ass to get what they desire. It's as if everyone has forgotten that making a living is not always what you want it to be when you start out and sometimes you have to earn it by doing things that are less than ideal. I'm not special, I don't do anything extraordinary, I simply do what has to be done in order to support the life and the ones I have chosen to include in that life. What I wonder is, where did that belief go? 

I often wonder if it is the disconnect that has come with being "connected" through means that are not real. Actually that's bullshit I blame a society that has become so disconnected that we communicate more electronically then we do personally. It's not really a connection when it can all, so easily, be fabricated and is more times than not. You can't be in touch with reality when you are watching your life through a screen; I've done it, I did it for years. I lost touch with who I was for years, if that happens how can you be in touch with any other living thing? If that happens how can you possibly grasp what is going on around you?

We've created a selfish and entitled society that makes me shake my head more times than not these days. I'm  proud to clean the pasture of the Kingston Ponies today and I am proud of the work I do with the Goats on the Island. I'm no longer embarrassed cause it's honest, it's real, it allows me to be me, it reminds me every time that 80k a year was fantastic but it cost me millions in values to make it. 

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How they saved me, The Conclusion

I came to live at the farm two years ago this Sept, six months after my brother died, and quite by accident. We were talking at work and a friend mentioned the farm house, we were prepping for a party hosted by our department actually. I jokingly remarked on how I'd love it, I had never seen it. What the hell would I do with a farm house anyway right?!

Well long story short I did see it, it was available for lease, and I felt strangely at peace when I thought about it. Plus, let us not forget Lexi, Leo's sister that I wanted but could not have if I stayed where I was off Totten. Always an angle (haha) however it sure wasn't horses at that time. Looking back, I had no idea, No Idea, what I was in for.

My younger brother came and looked at the farm with me one day before I moved in and when he walked in he looked right at me and said "yep this fits you". I figured he meant it fit because everything is just a touch out of wack, slightly askew, not quite perfect if you will, here at the farm. Perhaps he didn't mean that at all, maybe he's smarter than I think. I sure didn't think it "fit" me I just thought it was down right cute and whoo hoo there were ponies here BONUS! And it was out of the way, like you get lost coming here at least once, out of the way and quite frankly that appealed to me more than anything else.

I didn't instantly fall in love with the horses, they scared me. I thought my friend (whom owned the horses that lived here) was crazy to go walking around lifting up legs that reached my chest. I was definitely captivated by them but I didn't get really close. A treat now and again, mostly I stared in awe.

I watched my friend around them, I watched the horses when I thought they weren't looking and I studied every single piece of information I could get my little hands on. I really wanted to "know" about them. It's what I do.

P changed it all though. I can even tell you the day it went from, wow aren't they the coolest animal ever, to wow I can't imagine my life without them.

P is the greatest little mare. P could also be described as slightly stand offish I suppose. I've always thought of her as cautious. I've always had a respect for the way she holds herself. She has boundaries and if she doesn't trust you she likely won't come happily to you.

One day I was in the pasture talking to her and trying to pick a bunch of branches out of what I, still today, believe is the prettiest mane ever. I didn't really know if she'd let me and me being me, being unsure and nervous usually meant a physical reaction. "Sure lady stick your fingers in my hair when your knees are knocking together, great flippin' idea". Needless to say it instills zero in the way of confidence from a horses point of view.

The really funny thing is, I was never really afraid of them hurting me. I was convinced in my ignorance of them, I'd somehow hurt/damage them. That belief likely grew out of the residue left over from my sons escapades, after all hadn't I "damaged" him? The answer to that by the way is no I did not, knowing that however and believing that are worlds apart sometimes. I did not believe that two years ago.

That afternoon, picking branches out of P's mane, talking to her to ease the crazy nervous energy that refused to go away, I caught a glimpse of who I was without the residue.

And that's how the ponies saved me, they let me in. They trusted this knock kneed, shaken up mess and let me know that it was ok to love even when I was afraid.

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How they saved me, Part One

A friend of mine recently remarked that it wouldn't be a bad thing to hear more about how the horses saved me. I say it frequently but never really explain.

It started about twelve years ago when my son was about 13, was in full swing ten years ago and didn't slow down, much less stop for me until just two years ago; a time period that has it's own story to tell.

My son has always had the uncanny ability to worm his way into most anything he wanted, even if it meant great fabrication. He really ought to channel that better but that's another story. In any case about the time he turned thirteen my son figured out how to work the "system", refusing to read meant books on tape in reading class, coming late repeatedly meant late start days, etc. It grew to unbelievable out of control proportions, ending with a restraining order that lasted two very long years. It quite literally ripped me to pieces; I was so incredibly wrapped up in being his mother that with that spinning out of control I was lost for a long long time. I did what any child of "dysfunction" would do and dove so deep into my job that my life became my work, my work was not my life; my life was work. There is a difference.

I ran on auto-pilot for a good decade.

It was actually moving to this side of the water that started what is more like coming out of a coma then it is saving my life. There was logic there, of course! Had I not worked at Avalara I'd never have moved over here, so thanks for that Avaland. I did however want the peace that I was sure would come from being on this side of the water. I was often in the middle of things, ok that's bullshit, I was smack dab in the middle of my son, his girlfriend, and my grandson. Amber had moved out with my grandson, my son had topped it off by vandalizing the home, tossing wild accusations, and getting arrested with charges that would ultimately result in a two year restraining order issued by the state for my protection. I think that was damned close to as hurt as I've ever been, it was also not long before my move to this side of the water.

I lived off Totten in Poulsbo with my cat for some time, enjoying this new found peace and field mice all at the same time when my Aunt Cheryl was killed. She was my mom's youngest sister. She was to me, well I idolized her. She was to me what I've always hoped to be to my nieces. It shook everyone badly in a multitude of ways when she died. There was also the sting of knowing that once again my son was incarcerated while his family fought a tragedy. There is a unique and unbearably sad feeling that comes with knowing that.

Leo came into my life six months after my Aunt Cheryl passed away. I don't think I loved anything more than I did that puppy.

I left him once to go on a trip to California to see an old high school friend and attend an "Anti-Valentine's Day" party; yep that's where my head was at! Anyway I left him in the care of my older brother because much to my disappointment flying Leo cost an arm and half a leg. I have a picture of my older brother and Leo sleeping on the couch when Leo was just a baby and my older brother was still with us. That was February two years ago. My brother died the next month, in March, alone, scared, and very cold in a river after running to something or from something for nearly his entire life. That picture is by far the best shot I have ever taken with a camera of any kind. My son, still gone, however the restraining order had run it's course by then and I was able to tell him of the news via a collect call. Again, unbelievable feelings surround this kind of a mess.

It all sort of came crashing down on me when my brother died. It felt like years of grief pouring all over the place, my dad, my aunt, my brother, and all those years of grieving a son that I never quite knew would make it back. Hell I even stopped giving a shit about my work right about then. I tried to lose myself there, it's what I do, it didn't work. I still did the work, I simply didn't "care" so much anymore. It all seemed down right stupid in the face of what I was feeling.

Leo, with his constant attention, crazy antics, and unrelenting love let me heal. That's really the bottom line, he sat on my lap and let me cry. He quite literally licked the tears from my face on more than one occasion.

I'm not going to sit here and tell anyone that they "literally" saved my life however without Leo I'd have found something to lose myself in and it probably wouldn't have been all that good for me. Leo gave me purpose I suppose plus caring for him didn't mean losing myself. He just let me love him and in that I started beginning to heal.

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Patch, I apologize in advance

I'll skip the whole "wow I suck at updating this blog however I've been busy..." routine.

Tonight is a big night, we're gonna clean Patch's sheath. Nope never done it, nope not looking forward to it, yes I will have the assistance of someone who has done this before not to mention recently.

My stomach drops at the thought of this little undertaking. Just a tiny catch of the breath each time I think of it, just enough to remind me that I love that little guy beyond reason. He makes me smile every day, his morning hello is something every lonely or lost person in the world should be privy to; I quite literally thank the stars for every day that he's in my life.

All that being said, I also know Patch pretty well. I have no fears of him kicking out or anything of the sort. I'm pretty sure he's gonna be insulted though. I'm also pretty sure he's going to assure himself that he was right; I am a sissy pants, tree hugging, bleeding heart, worry wart and he'll likely use that to justify the silent treatment that will follow. I am absolutely not kidding.

Describing Patch is hard for me, he's so many things and my gosh does he have personality.

He comes to the door and waits for a treat, he only leaves if Tex comes by and then once Tex leaves he'll go back to standing vigil. He knows it works and he's in no hurry. He isn't afraid of Texas, he won't however waste his time with Tex's constant flexing. He simply moves out of the way until Tex is done prancing about as if he is the VIP of the group. That little dance goes on a lot around here and if you watch closely you can catch Patch's eye when it's happening, he is all but rolling his eyes and muttering "kids these days..."

He chases Leo, he doesn't chase Leo a lot and he doesn't ever over step when he is chasing Leo. He stays right on Leo's butt, just close enough to catch Leo's attention but never close enough to actually mis-step and land on Leo. He puts his head down, pins his ears and prances after him, it does in fact look a little like a prance. I think it only happens when Patch has had it with Leo's firm belief that he is actually the VIP of the group.

The horses are allowed in the yard, it's fenced and I like it so I don't much care anymore if it seems odd to have three horses wandering the yard. They like it too, there is some yummy grass in the yard. Anyway when they are wandering the yard the stalls are typically open as well. They will each go in the barn and check out the stalls a few times. When it's close to dinner they will go in and out checking for hay, when hay is in there for dinner they will go in, look at the hay, look for me, take a bite and debate staying and eating or grass in the yard. That's a fun one to watch but I digress...

If (during the yard wandering) Katie goes in her stall (she's in the middle) and Patch is around he will shut her door with his nose, no he can't lock it but I suspect he would if only he had thumbs!

If I feed them in the pasture and Patch is tired of the "pile hopping" that goes on he will look at you as if to say "seriously if I could pick up this pile and move it away from these two I would...".

He tells on Texas, frequently.

He acts like he HATES his blanket. He stands there and lays his cute little ears down and looks at me like I'm a ... (see above sissy pants remark).

He acts the same way when I go in his stall and hug him and brush him.

But he is the first one to come say hi, he's the first one to say good morning, he will lay his head on your shoulder so long as no one is watching and he might act like he hates the brushing and primping but he sure moves into my hand when it's happening! He might think I am a big sissy pants worry wart but he loves me anyway.

Maybe we'll have a little talk about things that are "for your own good" today. I don't have much else planned! I'm sure once he is done being insulted and Saturday rolls around (yes I know it's only Thursday, remember the silent treatment) all will be well, not to mention clean!

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Herd bound

Today as I was getting ready to go to my brother's house for dinner I went wandering through the barn. Checking water buckets that had been checked five minutes before, kicking around the pellets in the stalls I cleaned earlier in preparation for this incredible trip that would take me away for a good five hours, divvying up hay for their "first half" of dinner knowing that I'd call Dale and ask him to give it to them cause I wouldn't be home by 5pm, I realized...I am herd bound.

In my defense I did manage to clean the excess mud from my boots. I even thought about make up (in that I stuffed a bottle of foundation in my purse) I never applied it.

I had a lovely time at my brother's. I was able to see my grandson, I got to see my grand niece and nephew. We had a wonderful dinner of steaks on the grill, multiple salads and a good bunch of laughter.

I missed seeing the ponies through the window while I ate.

I wondered where the "me" that thrived on cell phones, noise, traffic, and a constant connection had gone. I also wondered when I stopped missing her.

I remembered the smell of the barn while I yelled to the kids not to play in the street, which was really a street, and I shook my head.

I had changed, or maybe I had just stopped pretending.

The animals, somehow, have given me permission to honor who I am. And now, now I am herd bound. Had I been able to call for them as I left the drive I probably would have. If I had I am sure they'd have called back because really it is that simple with them, and these days (thank goodness) for me as well.

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What I've learned in the last 90 days

To say the last Ninety days have been challenging would be an incredible understatement. There are days where I don't even know where to begin then there are days when I'm sure I've already begun and it's just a matter of catching up to myself.

I remember when I had my son twenty five years ago, you probably couldn't have found a more confused and desperately seeking something young woman in the whole state of California. Replace the young with accepting middle age and the California with Washington and I suppose that would be a pretty darned good picture of where I have been for the last three months.

I know a few things today that I didn't know last December, most importantly I know I am an awful lot more than my "job". Or maybe I finally figured out that "jobs" are really all they ever were. My mom has been telling me that for the last five years or so while I continued to obsessively lose myself in one piece of software or the next. Not out of character, it took me a half a decade to get it.

I've learned that people are afraid of change even when it is not their own.

I've come to understand that some changes skip a few chapters and find you with a life you'd never expected. I also understand that the person I was minutes before the pages flipped deserves a grieving period. I'm still trying to learn how to give that to her with a touch of grace.

I've found that working my muscles after years of not gives me great satisfaction. Today I lose myself in the art of strategically dumping the wheelbarrow instead of trying to find myself in the puzzle of someone else's problem. There is a simple closure there that is hugely important to me right now.

Today I almost accept that no matter how perfectly I plan, no matter how many times a day I crunch numbers the reality is it really could all fall apart any second of any day. Knowing that and continuing on is, in my opinion, the only thing that sets us apart from the animals that inspired this blog. Having the strength isn't really where I falter, it's the faith. It's getting there.

Again that brings me back to the animals. I look at them and somewhere in me I know this will all be fine. Somewhere in them there is a faith that keeps me hanging on. Pretty sure that sounds nutty because I am talking about a dog, a cat, and four horses saving my sanity :-) I suppose you'd have to take a ride in the car with Leo, rub Tex's teeth, help Patch find a private place to eat, kiss Katie on the nose, and have Amber lay her head on your shoulder to really understand. There is a level of trust and faith there that is, unfortunately, rare in the world we live in. I know today that I want that in my life always, selfishly, humanly because it allows me to have faith even in the face of what I know could happen in the blink of an eye.

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Proper Voice

I often struggle to put the horses to words. How do you describe what it feels like to walk up to the gate and be greeted with a curiously large nose? How can you put to words the feeling that follows you as you run a brush through a tail that reaches beyond the length of your leg? How do you explain what it feels like to have an animal four times your size lay it's head in your lap? How can you possibly put to words what happens when a they look at you with eyes bigger than a Montana sky?

I try, and often fail, to express the depth of feeling that surrounds the horses. Tonight Amber laid down in her stall when Dale and I were still up at the barn. I happened to be in her stall when she finally did lay down and while we did not spend a half an hour laying together in her stall she did allow me to hold her head, nearly in my lap, while she rested.

There is something that borders on sacred when love, without judgement, is laying in your lap. One day I might be able to give it all proper voice; tonight I will relish the warmth that has followed me from the barn and try again tomorrow to find the woman that has the words that can describe the love that follows the ponies to sleep every night.

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The wedding march

Patch's room is the shelter. No one except Patch seems to like the shelter, there is only room for one. You can see the barn and typically the horse in the end stall, Texas or Amber. It's also huge, covered on three sides, complete with two windows and a doorway area to look out. It's hardly torture. All that does not equal the "ideal room" for Katie, Texas or Amber. Patch on the other hand uses the space and privacy to do what he loves best, eat in peace. Heck he's even started pooping in one general area, I am convinced he just needed more room before and wasn't really the single messiest pony ever. I watch these things; pooping habits occupy my thoughts at least once a day.

In any case Patch does not hate the shelter, he normally walks right behind me and into the shelter we go.

Last night Patch decided it was too early to go in, he stood in front of the barn and stared at me as if to say "how about ummm no". I actually had to put a halter and finally a lead rope on him. Putting Patch away never requires a halter much less a halter and a lead rope. It might on occasion require that I show him dinner is waiting, honestly that's the extent of it, normally!

Last night I think the old boy was insulted that I'd put a halter and a rope on Him over dinner time! Imagine telling Johnny Cash he needed an electric guitar to succeed, that was Patch's face last night the minute the rope clicked onto his halter.

It took us ten minutes, it seemed, to get approximately 75 to 100 feet (I suck at distance but it's not far!). It went like this...

We got the rope on the halter, Patch looked at me, pinned his ears and squinted his eyes as if to say "HMPH" and turned his head straight away. As far as he was concerned not only was this horrible treatment bullshit, he was not going to comply.

I looked at him and told him in no uncertain terms, we were going up there. I pointed, he looked at me when I talked and looked to the shelter when I pointed. Patch is freakishly smart; he saw hay in my trunk the other day and also saw me close the trunk without removing the hay, he stood there placing his nose on the trunk and looking at me alternately for a good thirty seconds before he gave up and walked away disgusted with my inability to do as told.

In any case, last night standing there stubborn as the stereo type, I figured we'd walk in a circle and head to the shelter. Patch usually takes this version of do-si-do as my version of "alright enough" and off we go to where ever we are headed. Not last night. We did a cute little circle in front of the barn only to stand stock still with Patch looking at me like Johnny Cash holding an electric guitar cable, confused and none too pleased.

I moved forward holding the lead rope, not looking back at him and he moved a step. I thought we were done being pissy and kept moving forward. Patch took that one step and stopped, perfectly square, staring straight ahead. I was, as a result, stopped.

I walked back to him, told him again that enough was enough, pointed and moved. He moved one flippin step! He loves, LOVES, looking like the big bad Appy that he is. I swear to goodness he puffs up his chest the moment his ears pin (which is often). He is about as scary as the stay-puff marshmallow guy (and with his winter coat resembles him as well) but he tries! I got the full on Patch display last night right up to the very door of his stall, one step at a time! He stood there front feet on the very edge of the doorway, his nose sticking inside, and snorted before he went in. I don't think it's hard to figure out what that snort meant!

Tonight he and Amber were in the yard while I was getting dinner ready. Texas and Katie were glued together in the lower half of the pasture doing god knows what when Tex noticed me bringing dinner to Patch's stall. I met him at the gate and he and Katie were in before Patch and Amber even cared what they were doing. Dale was giving them an apple, that takes priority over Tex and Katie's activities!

Patch came up to the barn first, cause Dale headed there and with him the possibility of more! Amber went in fine once she got over Tex being in "her" stall which left our buddy Patch. He apparently did not feel the need to go in and was once again perfectly fine standing there watching the poor saps that got conned out of the yard by a silly pile of hay!

Out came the halter followed by the lead rope. Patch pinned his cute little ears and I figured we were going to have to match stubborn for stubborn while my teeth chattered! In his defense five o'clock seems early when day light is finally coming back...

I pretty much repeated my speech from last night, added the promise of an apple, and walked forward. I was stopped short when Patch decided that as great as that apple might be he was not easy or stupid. He did the one step thing. I just stood in front of him, at the end of his lead rope, and waited. He relented and followed, right behind me, polite as can be. I doubt if my lecture on cold weather, ridiculous games and matching wills made one bit of difference; Patch moves when Patch wants to move. He loves me so he cooperates 99% of the time, the other 1% he relents as if to remind me that the general awesomeness that is Patch is not a given but a result of that love.

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Let's mix it up

Normally right around 5pm or so everyone comes in for dinner. Lately whether we're coming in from the pasture or the yard, everyone goes to their respective stalls, where hay is waiting, with little to no mishap. They usually see me getting hay ready and putting it in the stalls. If they are in the yard Katie is almost always the first to notice and head in, Amber typically follows then Tex. Patch kinda hangs out watching until we go up to his stall. If they are in the pasture it's Texas, Katie, Patch then Amber (because Patch tries to follow Amber out).

Everyone knows where their stalls are and generally they go to the right one, if there is anyone that goes in the wrong stall it is Texas. He does not do this because he is confused about where his stall is, he does this because there might just be the chance of a better place to hang out and eat.

He did this once in the shelter, he loves the shelter, so long as he is in it and everyone else is standing outside looking in or just generally hanging out right beside the window and or the doorway. One evening he decided that he'd stay in there even though he knew it was time to go in so I went ahead and let him. He was completely fine until he noticed that everyone else was not standing vigil, they were going into the barn.

I gotta admit it makes me chuckle, Texas rarely has any reason to be even remotely close to upset. He was none too pleased with how kicking everyone out of the shelter and insisting on eating in there actually turned out.

Tonight he went into Amber's stall and I went ahead and let him stay there. He was perfectly fine with that outcome. His stall and Ambers are on either end of the barn with Katie's stall in the middle. The two end stalls are rather large, so really Tex didn't care. Different view, convenient window, and an opportunity to poop in a newly filled water bucket! I walked toward his stall this evening, saw his water as I got closer and honestly all I could say was "really Texas?". He perked up and sorta sidelong glanced at me as if to question why I was surprised that he had christened the water bucket, it was after all a different stall.

Amber was a little confused at first, that lady does not like change. She saw Texas in her stall this evening and looked right at me. If I were to put it to words I'd say she was asking me why the hell anyone puts up with this handsome lug that thinks he can go nearly anywhere!

We ended the evening by playing mix and match blankets! I had hung Patch's blanket on the front of Amber's stall when I took them off this morning. This also happens to be right underneath a gutter that well, has twine holding it together in places. Patch's blanket was wet. Patch can't have a wet blanket, I'd lose sleep over it. I went back to the barn and grabbed Katie's blanket, no one was using it, Patch is like a woolly monster, the blanket is mid-weight, perfect.

I went to put Katie's blanket on, she's been wearing Texas's green one which looks smashing on her and is nice and toasty, it was flippin was wet! The entire front and that wouldn't work. So we grabbed the blue stable blanket she was wearing when she came home from Sarah's.

Amber, in a different stall, has her normal jammas on. Hers were hanging in her stall and for about 10 seconds I thought about putting them on Tex just so I didn't have to drag blankets back and forth! I couldn't do it though, Amber's jammas have pink stitching and I just couldn't do that to Tex.

Tex, in a different stall, with newly replaced water, has his normal jammas on and seemed quite pleased with himself at lights out; he has better access to Katie in Amber's stall and was taking complete advantage of that as I left the barn.

Every once in awhile it's not bad to mix it up, even if that mixing is not your idea.

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Out on the ledge

As it happens I have done something I never really believed I would do.

I have loved words for as long as I can remember, even in music I hear the lyrics first, music second.

I have loved writing for as long as I can remember. I especially love poetry. In poetry I find all the voices that under normal circumstances are kept quiet for one reason or the next.

In my poetry, rather in others reading my poetry, I become embarrassed. I have to squash the desire to say "yes the poem talks about standing naked and upside down in a corn field somewhere deep in Iowa but no I've never been there and rarely do I stand upside down and naked at the same time." It's a different voice that can relate rocks in Utah to Mormon marriages and talk about standing upside down in a make believe corn field.

I've had people read a poem and believe it to be some window into my thoughts, soul, life, past, present; some sort of clue leading to what is really going on. This could not be further from the truth. It's actually insulting and has found me keeping it to myself completely on more than one occasion.

I've played with publishing once or twice and did in fact get published a couple times. Looking back it was pretty immature work, nonetheless someone out there liked it. Mostly I've kept my writing to myself with the occasional sharing with a friend or on Facebook if I am feeling particularly brave.

Recently, very recently, I put together a Kindle Book of poems that is now for sale on Amazon. Pretty cool really, 53 of what I consider readable poems. The problem really is in my motivation to utilize the resources I have available to me to get it out there, so to speak.

I am as afraid of people finding it, being interested in it and purchasing it as I am the opposite. It's revealing work, there is no doubt of that. It's not autobiographical in content but in feelings behind them it surely holds pieces of me. To sell that, which is the thing I never really thought I'd do, seems wrong in a 'starving artist, I write for myself' kinda way and scary in a 'holy shit people are going to think you are absolutely certifiable' kinda way.

I suppose if you are going to look at it honestly, I've only done half of the thing because I've not utilized resources to put it out there. I am, in a 'see I am brave enough to self publish' kinda way, hiding behind the scores of other books available on Kindle.

This weeks 'action item' is to gather a bit of courage and let it be known that the thing is actually out there for purchase.

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At least the rain is consistent

I have had a hard time blogging with any consistency these last few weeks. It is however another rainy day and I thought I'd take a minute and try to write something readable!

There hasn't been a lot of horsey activity in the last few days, everyone is pretty on schedule and enjoying the smattering of sunshine we've had recently. I'm pretty happy with Amber's weight, her weight always concerns me. She is a worrier and it seems the minute she worries off come the pounds. She is however finally leveling out. She is a lot more relaxed these days and it's starting to show which makes me happy.

It's strange to me that people (wide generalization here) discount, if not completely disregard, the range of feelings animals have. We have no problem understanding an angry dog, for example. Why do you suppose it's hard for us to grasp that they also feel other emotions? Everything from fear to friendship to jealousy to boredom to worry or anxiety.

It's really easy to discount them with an off the cuff "he's just a dog.." "they are only horses..." etc etc... I think partially because they don't talk. They don't express themselves as we do and as a result they must be lesser than us, perhaps even too dense to grasp feelings.

Having spent the better part of the last two and a half months sequestered on the farm surrounded primarily by beings that don't speak, there have been more than a few times when I've found myself surprised at the range of feelings they display when you pay attention.

Saturday it rained, pretty much all day. The horses were in their stalls, Leo was in the house with me and no one really got to do much of anything. Talk about communication among the troops! Every single last one of them, including Leo, thought that staying inside all day was utter bullshit and every single last one of them told me so.

In little ways every day they will tell you how they feel, to discount those feelings as simple because they can not express them as we do really is the height of conceit.

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Hanging out with the horses

I haven't written much in the last week or so; I've been "busy", mentally busy.

I've spent a lot of time hanging out with the horses, I've spent hours pouring over poetry, I've tried to get up early every day, and examined every skill I have trying to figure out what to do with this life that is now sitting at my feet looking up at me like Leo does when I am holding a hot dog! I still haven't quite figured it out.

So I hang out with the horses and think. I shovel wheelbarrows full of poop, make up exercises, and pretend my 40 something back isn't killing me! I talk to Texas as if he understands me and look to Patch for the sage advice I know only he is capable of. I watch Katie run and dream. I cuddle with Amber and hope she doesn't mind. I drag poor Leo everywhere with me, tell him things no dog should have to listen to, and think a bit more.

It's a very odd place to be. I can't say it's uncomfortable, I can say that right now it is a bit too fragile for most human hands. So I hang out with the horses and hope they don't mind.

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