He let's me go fast

If you've ever read my blog you know that I am not a fan of going fast. I don't drive fast, I don't run fast, I don't ride fast. The only thing I really ever do quickly is talk and or type. I am mind boggling fast with a keyboard and I can talk a mile a minute when even a touch excited. Everything else I'd prefer to do slow, snail paced slow. I often wonder if it is because in my youth I did everything fast, break neck speed fast, it's hard to say.

Enter Lou. Lou is a lumbering 16.3hh hunk of a horse. I adopted Lou from Pony Up (shocking!). I can't even remember how Lou became a conversation between Rosemary and I. However he did and he eventually came home with me. I remember meeting him that first day, he was lazing about in the arena at "PU 1" which is funny in a full circle kinda way considering it's where we are today. In any case, he was perhaps one of the biggest horses I'd met to date. He towered over my horses, he gave Carter and the Kingston Boys a run for their money and was certainly more Rosemary or Kate's type than mine. I didn't like the "big ones". Climbing on something that was taller than me, at their ass, was lunacy in my opinion. Enter Lou. Lou is so big I can climb under him, hide behind him, and it takes me an hour to brush the big giant dinosaur of a horse that he is, getting up there; lunacy, plain old lunacy.

Enter Lou. Lou who would catch me if I fell, and has. Lou who lets me canter without a care in the world. Lou who makes me feel safe no matter what we are doing. Lou who leaves me with the glow of a smitten school girl every time we have the time to play. 

Lou who finds me babbling stupidly in my blog about what a great guy he is forgetting that I can actually write a sentence that goes beyond, "isn't he the greatest guy ever?!".

I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell Rosemary how grateful I am to Pony Up for leading me to Lou. I've known a few horses over the years that I adore, known a few over the years that I wanted desperately to "fit" with. I've never known one that I made my entire being smile. That about sums it up; he makes my whole being smile. From head to toe, that big lumbering dinosaur sized horse, makes me smile and I feel it with every fiber of my being. 

And...he let's me go fast ;-)

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Rev's mom

I'm sitting in the barn, Abbey is climbing on my lap, Lou and Brody are munching on hay, Leo is faithfully guarding the door, Jack is in his yard and Rev is with his new mommy. I miss Rev no doubt there however every day there is a post by Tracy talking about how much fun they are having together and I can't for one second regret the decision. It brings tears to my eyes in the most satisfying way. He's not the first horse that has come into my life and somehow found the perfect partner. Someone mentioned to me not too long ago that perhaps that was my calling if you will, with the horses, to find them that perfect partner. See I don't show, I don't ride the boys every day, I am often discounted in the traditional horsey world as a result. As if my knowledge is lacking due to the lack of blue ribbons and barrels raced around. I have been around long enough now to realize that is complete bullshit. Some of my closest friends are guilty of the judgement, difference is that today, sitting here in the barn with my boys, I don't care. Katie came into my life and taught me so very much, she lives with her new mommy who is the best person for her. Amber came into my life and ended up finding the perfect family for her. Rev came to me and eventually found Tracy who is perfect for him. Do I have a knack for finding the perfect person, no. Do I have a problem loving them enough to let them go when I am not the perfect partner, no. Does that equate to my place in the horsey world, no.

Ok so it still pisses me off that some people in this "world" discount me, I think it's insulting. I likely will continue to think it is insulting, I suppose I just no longer let that discourage me. I look at Lou and I look at Brody and I know that they'd both agree, it's insulting bullshit. These boys don't belong anywhere but with me, never will. Did Rev belong "anywhere but with me", no. Did I love him enough to know that, yes. Does that make me less of a horse person than say the person riding a pattern every day, practicing dressage, jumping barrels every Friday night, or hitting the trails five times a week? No. Will another horse end up in my care only to find that perfect person, I sure the hell hope so. It's an honor to be a part of that. Is that my "place" in this "horsey world". Umm no.

Ok, slightly off course now. This post did not start out with the intention of being a rant.

I moved recently and a little known fact is that part of the attraction was being away from the judgmental bullshit. I have never admitted that piece because I value the friendships and was afraid of such an admission.

Watching Rev and Tracy taught me a lot, thanks to Rev for being yet another wonderful being to teach his guardian for a time, a lesson she needed! It did not matter to me what everyone thought. I knew that I was more comfortable riding with Lou. Gosh Lou and I are an entirely different post so I won't go there now. Suffice it to say that I knew the minute I touched Lou that it'd be hard on Rev. I entertained the thought of finding someone for Rev to play with (I refuse to call it work). I never found anyone (not that I looked hard) that I thought deserved HIM.

Tracy and I ran into each other at Pony Up on a Sunday when I was not scheduled to be there, I feed on Saturday but I had over slept and volunteered to do Sunday since I was such a lazy ass on Saturday! Tracy does Sunday and about half way through feeding she pulled up and wondered what the hell I was doing there! We had never met face to face, she was a volunteer, so was I but our paths had only crossed via Facebook post (welcome to the age of electronic communication)! We got to talking and she mentioned her boy Otto, he was in training, she couldn't ride him freely, etc. I stood there and kicked the dirt floor (I only kick the dirt when I know I am getting myself into something potentially painful) and talked a bit about Katie. My goodness that is still a sore subject for me. Then standing there I remembered Rev, sitting at home probably off to himself because Lou and Brody are... and I casually mentioned that she was welcome to ride Rev. Did I really think it'd become anything? Probably not. The dirt kicking was more about Katie then it was about Rev at that point.

Tracy came and met Rev twice that day, the second time Josh and I were riding with Lou and Brody in the arena. Eventually she saddled Rev up and as I cleaned the pasture (read spied on her and Rev) her and Rev tripped around the arena a bit.

I was pretty impressed, he was so obviously happy. I do know the horse quite well and I have seen him with a few people. He was relaxed under her hand and happily doing as she asked. He wasn't bored with her or frustrated with her. I can't say that I was instantly struck but I was impressed.

She took him for a trail ride not long after that while I sat at work and worried about everything from him throwing her and running wild to him and her having the time of their life and not loving me anymore. I don't think I stopped obsessing over said trail ride until I knew he was home safe.

She came over again and just sorta hung out, lunged a bit, braided every inch of hair she could, hand grazed him and just well generally fussed over him.

Watching her that night, through the windows to give her privacy and satisfy my need to watch, I started remembering Katie and Perris and all that happened "back then".

I remembered loving Katie beyond reason. I remembered P. I remembered feeling with P like Tracy felt with Rev. I remembered how tangled it became. I remembered how, still to this day, P breaks my heart.

Eventually I came out and Tracy was leaving for the evening. She said goodbye to Rev and climbed into her truck. Rev was in his stall, eating.

Rev walked out of his stall when he heard her truck. Rev watched her pull out of the driveway. Rev went back to his food after looking very sad and I said (much to my surprise) "Don't worry baby, mom will be back".  I swear I didn't realize that "mom" was headed out of my mouth until it was there. I however could not deny that it had come out.

I sat in the barn for quite some time and talked to Rev, stared at Rev and tried to figure what to do.

I remembered P. I remembered how I had almost given up. I remembered how much it had hurt to know she'd never "belong" with me and I realized that once again that gorgeous blonde was teaching me how to love properly, and I sent the text to Tracy that started the conversations that changed Rev's life.

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Top Ten Misconceptions Vs. Reality 101

#1
Misconception: I'm not "touchy feely".
Reality: Pure bullshit. ask my dog, my horses, my cat, my kids or grandkids, even my mom.

#2
Misconception: I'm "skinny", "small", etc... and physically limited
Reality: I can buck 100lbs of hay, carry at least that in groceries, and weigh a good ten pounds more than anyone thinks

#3
Misconception: I don't wear open toes shoes cause I have ugly feet
Reality: I don't like my feet to be cold, or wet, or exposed to the open air. I like socks.

#4
Misconception: I forget
Reality: I choose not to remember

#5

Misconception: My writing is always a direct result of my personal experience
Reality: I have an imagination, I use it

#6
Misconception: I'm outgoing
Reality: I am the definition of painfully shy.

#7
Misconception: I spoiled my son
Reality: That's pure bullshit, ask him about the year he spent with no bedroom door and a mattress on a floor; more importantly ask him why.

#8
Misconception: I'm a prude.
Reality: I'm private

#9
Misconception: I'm confident
Reality: I am aware of my abilities and respect them only when I am not doubting them!

#10
Misconception: I'm cynical/bitter
Reality: I believe in people even when I don't want to and often times it breaks my heart.

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A coon's age & frogs in the yard

It's been quite awhile since I sat here and wrote. Longer still since I actually completed a post; I have more drafts in the last year than I have frogs in  the yard. Oh yes, we moved. Perhaps later I will visit the move, not tonight. Suffice it to say everyone is happy with it, even the local frogs have decided we can stay. Can you imagine had they decided to boot the whole lot of us out? A frog led overthrow, scary.

And I illustrate why I have not written.

My son found me a few days ago in the barn writing on a notepad and mentioned that I only write when I am "bothered". I kinda smiled my "how I wish you knew me better" smile and reminded him that the only time I could write with any success is when I wasn't "bothered". He pretended to understand what I was saying and I let my mind drift off into some silliness that involved frogs or horse supplements.

A lot like I am doing now, which is why it's been a coon's age; I spent a few hours researching the meaning/origin of that one before deciding on the expression (god love google).

My second grandson (Aiden) entered the world yesterday. I was fortunate enough to be there. It's pretty awe-inspiring. You can't ever, or I can't, describe what it is like to be a part of a life coming into this world. I was there with Tonio, I was there with Ethan. I was there for a friend of mine a lifetime ago. It is the most amazing thing to witness. If the word honor belonged anywhere it'd be there.

It has been wonderful to watch Joshua through this, I am so happy for him. Seeing his face, watching him watch Aiden, pretty indescribable.

Last evening I came home to the house completely quiet, the baby had been born, the kids were at the hospital. It was only the dogs and me. Ok the dogs, the horses, the cat, and me. You get it, it was quiet.

I sat in the barn, where the best thinking happens, and thought about this little one that was gracing our family. I remembered my Uncle Tim who had just left. I remembered walking through the front room the evening that my Uncle left and saying flippantly to the kids that they had to change the baby's name now to include Timothy. I don't even know why it came out of my mouth, somewhere I knew I'd not make the service and goodness knows I wanted to honor him in some way... It was a flip remark born out of the grief that I knew was headed my way. Shortly after I made the announcement I felt the need to apologize, I certainly didn't want to dictate this little one's name. It stuck though because Mr. Aiden Donovan Timothy McCormick was welcomed into the world yesterday. I think I will always be grateful that they felt the need to honor him by including Timothy in Aiden's name.

Tonight as I drove home from the hospital I had a million things to share, at least four examples of growth over the last so many months. I was gonna write!

I got home and all that brilliance went the way of the wind and I ended up sitting here researching the origin of "coon's age". By researching I do, of course, mean getting lost on google.

It's hard to lay it out there, even here, when the truth is as heavy as it is lately. So I babble, artfully when I am lucky (or delusional in my assessment).

I miss my uncle. He was truly one of the very few genuine people I've been blessed with in my lifetime. I am still so very sorry I could not be there when everyone gathered to honor his life. I feel fragmented by it, or rather, I feel the fragments of my relationships more acutely than I am comfortable with. A lot of my family was able to gather and celebrate the love they shared for him and I was at home shoveling shit, literally. Note how miserable that sounds. Fact is I could not be there because I had to be here for Aiden and the shit I was shoveling belonged to beings that I love beyond reason; neither is miserable. Still I wanted to hug my grandmother and lay eyes on my cousin whom I hadn't seen in a "coon's age" and let her know I "got it". I'm not convinced that it would have made either feel better, it might have made me feel better. It's hard to say.

It was a tough one for me, still is. It's all a bit mixed up. You know that room that belongs to the teenager that finally got a lock on her door and with a fever made a mess no one could see through? That's about where my mind is; loving the mess but being blind to much beyond it, the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between blending about.

It doesn't make for good writing and it makes about as much sense as saying "a coon's age" and / or waxing poetic where frogs are concerned.






  

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Losing your zen

I have said, over and over, that the horses, the animals in general, have taught me to be a better person. They taught be a lot about peace. They teach me forgiveness everyday. They teach me a bit more about trust each day. They help me to be true to myself.

My guys are all rescues of sorts. I say of sorts cause there is no real word for "needed a home". Brody is truly a rescue situation. Brody would have died, and probably sooner then anyone really wants to think about, had he been left in the situation he was in. The others, well they just needed a safe landing for one reason or the next.

When you have "rescues" people often say things like "You've done such a great job" or "They are lucky to have you" or something along those lines. I suppose that is true; thing is I don't think many know that the truth is, I need them as badly as they need me. I am lucky to have them in my life.

Lately there have been many occasions when I have come dangerously close to forgetting that I choose peace. I don't choose resentment, I don't choose accusatory behavior, I do not choose vindictive, vengeful, or hurtful behavior. I often forget that I choose peace for me, I choose forgiveness for me; not for someone else's well being, for mine. I also tend to forget that all of that does not mean that I lack strength, neither does it mean I accept those behaviors from others in my life.

It's a string of lessons I've been learning and relearning for the last two years. By learning I mean actively learning, or paying attention to! It's tough to wrap your head around peace when all around us we see violence, revenge, aggression. It's hard not to lash out and strike the offending aggressor, regardless of what it is. It is hard not to be self righteous in your anger, self righteous anger is dangerous. Fighting that is hard when you're hurt, confused, or just generally pissed off.

I've been pissed off a lot lately, rather I have had to examine being pissed off, quite a bit lately. It doesn't matter at who/what really because this idea of living life with peace means (to me) that the why is more important than the who/what.

It's taken a lot of barn time for me to figure this one out, truth be told. I mentioned to a co-worker that being in the barn, staring at the ponies, kept me sane. It certainly does that, more importantly it helps me figure it all out so that I come through it with peace. I stand there, my fingers freezing cause my gloves are inevitably wet, feet cold and wet (if not muddy) cause my boots have a hole and I have yet to apply my fix to this problem (duct tape), and listen to them eat; let the sound of hay being crunched, water being sloshed, and the occasional swoosh of a tail, remind me again that peace is a choice. The only choice.

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Brody, a whole lotta magic.

I don't talk much about Brody. Brody touches on a lot of things I tend to keep to myself. Brody embodies a lot of things that I tend to keep to myself.

The other night I was brushing Brody and he stopped eating. He doesn't always stop eating and wait for me to finish, sometimes he continues and I work around him. The other night, he stood there and just enjoyed it. A friend of mine remarked on space and the like, I agreed that Brody did in fact respect mine. I also knew that wasn't why he was standing there, oblivious to the hay (alfalfa no less). He was standing there because he was letting himself quietly enjoy the attention.

He's always liked the brushing, the contact, the reassurance that he is loved, the touch that says trust can be had. We don't get near enough time, in my opinion, but when we do he loves it as much as I do. I like the brushing, the contact, the reassurance that I am loved, the touch that says trust can be had.

It's different when they come to you as damaged as Brody was. I am constantly amazed that he can trust any human. That he feels safe enough to enjoy the feel of the brush or my hand still chokes me up. I often wonder if I have that level of forgiveness in me.

It's magical to witness someone coming back to life, it is also (and more importantly) an incredible honor. I said someone on purpose. I don't think "someone" applies strictly to humans. He's not a "something" which is likely the word I would have used ten years ago. Ten years ago I loved animals, ten years ago I also had no idea how much they gave, felt, or taught us, without even trying.

I can't remember when, or who, tapped into that part of me that needed them as much as I believed they needed me. It probably started with Patch. That's probably why Brody is so tough a subject for me. He reminds me so much of Patch, he and I met the day after Patch died, he was so sad, I was so sad. I wasn't sure if Brody and I had any business together but I couldn't walk away.

When I met Patch it was much the same. A friend had talked me into going to see this pony; he was lame, he was likely going to head to the game farm as a result. I remember agreeing that sure we'd take the pony home and no no the gentleman had no worries because after all it wasn't really me, it was me and Kate; she knew all we needed to know. I figured this pony was a Kate project disguised as a pony for my grandson. For goodness sakes I didn't even like Appy's and Patch was an Appy in every way. I didn't know a damn thing about rehabilitating anything much less a horse. I stood there when Jeff asked if I could take him on and shook, thank goodness not visibly, and told him that it wasn't a problem cause Kate would do the lion's share of the work.

Then I got to know Patch. He is still one of the most special 'someones' I've ever had the pleasure of loving.

It was a lot like that with Brody. It's a lot like that with Brody every day.

It's different when they come to you like that. It changes you, if you let it. It changes them, if you're lucky. It makes you grateful for every single day, if you pay attention. If there isn't a whole lotta magic there...it's not likely to be found anywhere else.

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9943 days, a few hours, and not so many minutes away from 9944

I was driving along today, on my way home, thinking about my son. Thinking about Lou and the Horsey Halloween Party we went to. Thinking about how much joy they bring me. Wondering why the joy they bring me somehow came back to Joshua. It's some very odd and misguided sense of guilt that keeps me a little on edge about admitting how happy I am around them.

He once told me, not too terribly long ago, in a rather put out manner, that if I didn't have "the horses" maybe I "could" afford to help him more. By not too long ago, I do mean within the last year. He was 27 in August of this year. He is also currently residing in another state. Yet, he really does believe that my life ought to center around him, still. Not just participate in, center around. Nine thousand, nine hundred, and forty three days later; center around him.

It doesn't. I feel guilty, how dare I not focus on whatever dilemma has befallen him. How dare I enjoy the life I have built. How dare I have joy when he is in obvious, unavoidable pain. Make no mistake those are statements, not questions.

Tonight I realized I could bask in the joy that comes with thinking about Mr. Lou and I at Diamond Hill this weekend. I could, if I let myself. And so nine thousand, nine hundred, and forty three days later I'm gonna let myself be a participant in Joshua's life, an important one, still a participant, and bring you part of the joy that is Lou...

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Big Lou

Big Lou, you have to say it with your head tilted down toward your chin and with a deeper voice than is likely to come out of you, whomever you may be! I didn't notice that I actually did the tilting of the head when I addressed him as "Big Lou" until tonight when I was thinking about writing a bit about him.

He's not always Big Lou, sometimes he is Mr. Lou, sometimes he is Hey Gorgeous, and sometimes he is Seriously Lou?. Nearly always, he is perfect. He's got personality from here until next Tuesday, which really means he is prone to causing trouble. In the same respect, he is as mellow as sipping a Vanilla Latte in a springtime pasture on a Sunday afternoon.

Under saddle he does exactly what you ask, even when presented with someone who doesn't always ask perfectly. I know he'd do his level best to catch me if I fell, which I have. Some call it an emergency dismount, I call it being used to falling :-).

I've rarely felt as safe as I do when I am atop Lou. Still, I'm never bored. It's not a comfortable, old shoe kind of safe. It's a 'let's do this, I believe in you" kind of safe.

I got lucky with Lou. He just flat out makes me smile, tilt my head down, and lower my voice to that of a fifty year old cowboy and ask "Ok Big Lou, ya wanna go for a ride". I don't even care how silly it must look and so far as I can tell, neither does he!

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Raw and unfiltered

Nice title don't you think? 

It's not near as exciting as it sounds. One day not so long ago I came home to find that one of the boys had hurt himself. He had a nasty gash on his shoulder. That first day it looked like he got kicked and the skin had been pulled back. Nasty, yes. Treatable, absolutely. 

The next day he had rolled and seemingly torn off the piece of skin that led me to believe that it was a kick that had simply torn back the skin in the process. When I cleaned him up that night I saw that it was more along the lines of a puncture wound and once the skin that was trying to cover it had left, well it was roughly the size of a half dollar. It was swollen. There was heat.

I cleaned it out, put medicine on it (Nu-Stock which is great stuff), and tried to wrap it. He ended up with a huge ass home-made band-aid secured with duct tape. You can not wrap an almost to the shoulder, but not quite, wound with much success, at least I couldn't. 

The bandages didn't work very well. Inevitably they'd come off during the day. I have decided they came off when he rolled. Off comes the bandage, in comes the dirt. The dirt meets the medicine which covers the wound and all the days work is lost. 

This went on for about four days before I remembered the honey. A friend of mine had used it with a lot of success. Lou's wound was one day away from the vet. I could not keep it clean and or dry. The medicine I was using, as great as it is, was useless when it was mixed with dirt. I pressed my nose to the cut and smelled, it wasn't good. Yes I smelled it. It was what made me remember the honey. 

I knew we were bordering on something that could go south. I went to Pike Place Market a day after that and spoke to every honey vendor there. I finally stumbled on a woman whom did not look at me as if I were crazy when I explained that the taste did not matter because the intent was to slather my horse's shoulder with it as a salve. Her son had actually used honey to heal a wound he had across the bridge of his nose, she understood; her son did not scar by the way. She had a variety of honeys however recommended a Wild Thistle honey due to it's thickness. 

Honestly, I was desperate; Lou's wound had me scared. An infection could lead to really bad things. I didn't really think the honey idea would work, it seemed too simple to me. I'd probably have never tried it had I not been contemplating a 60.00 farm call and god knows how much to follow. 

I bought a 3oz jar for 5.50. It is worth noting that I still have some left.

I put the honey on him Sunday night after washing out his wound. Monday morning it looked as if the honey had acted as a drawing agent, pulling out the yuck that was still in there. His leg was wet in streaks. It wasn't like the honey just dripped down, it was as if the honey pulled out bad stuff (not puss or anything gross like that) and released it underneath this seal around the actual wound. The wound itself was still covered, the heat had left, and the swelling had gone down.  

The wound was washed and the honey reapplied each day for two days.

I did not touch the wound Tuesday or Wednesday. I checked on it but I did not wash it out and reapply the honey until Thursday.

It was dirty however the honey had created a barrier of sorts for the actual wound. The outside of the area was dirty, the wound was clean and protected.

My friend and I looked at his wound last night. It was, or better yet is, not the least bit swollen, has not even the touch of heat, is barely the size of half a dime, with virtually no hair loss

I smelled him tonight, just for good measure. I stuck my face right there on his big giant shoulder and breathed in deep and what I smelled was beautiful, healthy, raw, and unfiltered!

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Removing should from your vocabulary

The other day, yesterday actually, I explained my theory on the word should to a good friend of mine. She was stating that she should not feel this or that about a situation; the circumstances don't really matter in this case. I listened for a bit then remembered my mom telling me not too many months ago (perhaps a year) that should implied blame and perhaps replacing that word with a kinder word, could for example, might just change my outlook on whatever situation I thought I was, or had, handled incorrectly. I shared it with my friend last night and was reminded of it again today.

I.E. I should have (insert action) vs. I could have (insert action). 

Should leaves very little room for growth; with should you are concentrating on what went south as opposed to how come it went south and exploring the options that may have resulted in a better outcome.
It's also incredibly hard to stop saying should.

Today a very dear friend, arguably my closest friend, had to make a decision that, right or wrong, breaks a person's heart. I wondered a million times throughout the day if she was alright and prayed she wasn't "shoulding" herself to death. It's strangely easy to do. I suppose it makes sense, if you accept blame you can hang on to the belief that you can, or could have, fix(ed) whatever the problem may have been if only you were better - in whatever way you've decided you are lacking! 

Could - for example - leaves it (whatever it may be) open for exploration, for thinking, for learning, for possibility; none of which you can obtain if you are busying yourself with blame.

Today I came home and Rev didn't feel good. I panicked of course, the very thought of any of them being hurt or sick or uncomfortable finds my heart beating like crazy and my mind racing. That being said when push comes to shove I can handle an emergency; once I know something is wrong, once I know I can't afford to freak out and cry, I don't. Of course the initial panic sucks :-) 

In any case he was not feeling good, he is ok. He doesn't feel great but he is in no danger. 

It's been crazy dry here and as a result I have a ton of sand, not dirt, sand. They eat lunch outside (everything else is in their stalls) and I was becoming worried that sand colic could be a problem. Last Saturday I put them all on sand clear (or a version thereof). Rev is mighty sensitive and will benefit from ProBios I think however that is more of a side note. I do believe the poor baby has a tummy ache. His temperature is normal, he has pooped, he did me the courtesy of multiple farts (one of which occurred while taking his temperature, effectively in my hand), he has plenty of gut sounds, he is eating. He is also uncomfortable, but not critical by any stretch. Much to his dismay, he is also being monitored and the vet will be called at any repeated signs of upset.

I did not, through this, say to myself "you should have..." "it's your fault cause of the sand..." etc... etc...
I thought, from now we will all be on Psyllium because there is sand and it's not worth the risk.I thought, you are learning from this so that you can prevent any upset in the future.

Yes, I "could" have started them on a Psyllium regiment long ago and possibly prevented any upset for Rev. I  "could" have kept him on ProBios just because it "seemed" to have positive (read no ill) effects. Both of those "could" have prevented his tummy ache this evening, it also might not have. That does not make the Psyllium regiment or ProBios anything less than a good idea. Using "could" however not only took the blame away from something I (in reality) have little control over, it also opened up the thought process enough to let learning happen.

I suppose one can't complain too loudly about that.

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It's like a win-win-win.

Simply put, they are my babies. I'd lay across rail road tracks for each one of them. I'd not even so much as hesitate.

Recently I secured a position that will let me take care of my babies with one less worry. It's been a worrisome couple years; not that they knew, pretty sure I am the only one that ended up with an ulcer.

It's been a nice few hours, letting it all sink in. A bit of freedom, an air of relief, and if I were inclined to be honest, I'd say I was rather proud of myself.

Securing the position isn't really all that impressive; not securing the position, based on my qualifications, would have been devastating. Ok, so maybe not devastating but a blow to the old ego. I digress, my apologies.

What is impressive however, is that this crazy last twenty some odd months has changed me in ways what will actually let me do the job I have loved, since the first problem was presented to me, without motive for more. I honestly just want to do a good job, earn a decent income as a result, learn and grow as much as I can while doing it, and take care of my family.

The family I take care of these days consists of three wonderful horses, two spectacular dogs, a few chickens (who tend to scare me), and a beautiful cat. Taking care of them is paramount to me, there is simply no other word. Over the last twenty some odd months I've struggled with decisions surrounding their care, surrounding what was best for them, for us as a family, for me as a person, and let me tell you, there were a lot of scary 'oh my god' moments through those decisions. There was work and there was more work. There were adjustments and sacrifices. There have been balancing acts and sighs of relief. Bottom line always came down to what was best for them and I found, like most mothers, I'd do anything to make sure that happened. I always knew it, in my defense, it had just been a long time since I had to work so hard and so many angles to do it.  And my goodness the lessons in humility and strength alike were, let's just say, frequent.

None of these worries will go away and I pray that the lessons still come as frequently, goodness knows I've got an awful lot left to learn. They probably won't even lessen much. I'll still worry about hay quality, dentist appointments that need to be made, shoes that need to be had, diet issues, blankets, stall floors, riding frequency, and every other possible problem you can imagine. I will, with any luck, wake each day with a lesson to be had. With even more luck, I'll recognize the possibility enough to accept the lesson! I will however do it all with a little financial relief and bonus, it is doing something I love to do. It's like the best win-win I've had in the last few years.

When you take into consideration, that I'll not lose me in doing a great job, it's like a win-win-win.

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Somewhere between acceptance and gratitude or, varying degrees of doubt.

Today I am pissed at my email, in a shitty mood because it has not produced the email I am waiting for, and a little disappointed in my ability to "keep the faith" and/or feel grateful. 

For a solid six days I have been religiously repeating:

1. The strength it took to look honestly at that time period was hard earned; hold onto that and stay proud of that.

2. If nothing, save a lesson, comes of this, the lesson is valuable enough.

3. The outcome will not define you, does not define you; the outcome is not a reflection of you as a person, it is simply the decision of someone other than yourself. 

4. Let it go, see number 3 and let it go.

It's been a long six days. I believe, with all my heart, that all three of those are completely true statements. I really do wish I could stop repeating them. With every day that passes without an answer the voice of reason has to battle the voice of insecurity. She's got a pretty strong voice, resilient shit that she is. She battles everything above with her own version of the truth and lord is she negative!

I worked today and all went well. Sue and I worked together, we do well together. The ponies were all a dream save Kobe whom has taken to trying to eat the lead rope and Wynston whom thinks smelling the top of my head and dripping a little horsey goo in my hair is great fun. It was a good day, all in all. 

I drove in the drive and Mr. Leo was right there to greet me. Jack right behind him, wagging his little tail so fast he looks like half a helicopter! The boys were all accounted for and looked good too. I didn't get attacked by the crazy rooster. Weather was nice and I planned on riding Brody for a bit this evening.

Why then am I talking myself out of a negative mind set?

It's simple, I am letting this other person's decision rule my days, my nights, and even my dreams. I remarked earlier today that if I could simply remember all I dreamt when my mind was working overtime I'd give Stephen King a run for his money! My imagination is great fun play in, it's not great fun to get lost in! I believe "torture chamber" is what I used to describe it today. Every person whom has made an impression on me has appeared lately; my high school boyfriend popped over to let me know that the cliff I was jumping over was probably gonna suck, my mom and I were on a train that went to what felt like a desolate version of our world after deciding that we'd end up dying alone and together (literally), my brother popped in disguised as my father to remind me that although I thought pretty highly of my intellect...I wake feeling confused and as if I had just run a marathon. 

Why?

Because I am letting someone else's decision rule my days. I am forgetting all that brought me here. I am forgetting that the answer I am afraid of won't kill me; it may not please me however that's all it will do. I've been displeased before, it's never resulted in the end of the world :-)

Right? 

I'm gonna make sure to ask Brody, he's usually spot on when I am stuck between varying degrees of doubt.

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And they call me Queen of the Walk

It's no secret that I don't like to go fast. Facts are facts; part of me is a big chicken. I say things like... I need to work on my posting, I haven't really done much lately, I'm sure I have forgotten the right way, I look like an idiot, I should take lessons again, then maybe we'll talk about cantering and all this "you have to go fast business".

Truth is the key is feeling, not to mention a lot of trusting that enough to let go of the perfectionist, intellectual freak that says thing like "you look silly cause you aren't perfect". I look pretty hot at the walk. I love trotting about with Rev and Lou, so long as very few are around to see me go beyond the walk. Did I mention, I look great at the walk. It's the letting go that tends to keep me at the walk, the trusting myself part, that keeps me at the walk.

Rev and Lou have been a new experience for me, both of them have found me wanting to ride, for different reasons all together, however with both of them I get this "oh boy we're gonna ride" feeling that I haven't had in a long time. It's fun again with them; it's a bonus that it's fun for different reasons with each of them.

We rode yesterday; Rev and I in the arena, then around the "trail" three times. We went a couple different ways up to the top of the pasture, jogging up the hill this way and that. We played at the top of the pasture where I let him go just a touch faster than we've gone before then heading back down. He never goes faster than I am ready for and always seems very aware of what that means. It's quite amazing considering my speedometer changes each time we ride! He was great. Tomorrow we're gonna venture off the property, head up the street (or down I haven't decided). I have such a great time with him, we were plowing through the bushes (let's pretend they were thick, huge, climbing everywhere with vines, kind of bushes), climbing hills (slopes), laughing and talking the whole time. There was a lot of "oh you're such a good boy, let's hop over the log, oh look at you go, etc..." We had a blast.

Lou and I stayed in the arena. I suspect that if Lou could he'd pick me up before I even thought to fall, it's incredibly hard to feel anything but taken care of when riding with Lou. I never understood the desire for a horse so huge that you couldn't see me if I was standing behind him, smack dab in the middle of his barrel (yes, yes, you'd see my feet). God knows I'd be able to hide from the CIA if I decided to stand behind his rump! He's 16.3 and build like a tank. Riding with him is just fun for me. We actually cantered. I've never cantered. I don't, as a general rule, canter. Lou and I cantered, it was great fun. It was incredible fun really. I keep walking by him and saying "How's my little superstar?" :-)

Who knew, Queen of the Walk, would one day meet, love, and be lucky enough to know not one, but two, boys that let her go faster and faster each day :-)

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It's green cause we all agree that it's green.

My mom believes that we have collectively created our (general) reality. Trees for example, are green because we all agree they are green and therefore it becomes reality for us all. It's perception. It's choice. It's even a bit of compromise.

Reality is a funny thing, it can be different for us all. The reality of my childhood is not the same as my brother's reality and we grew up together. 

If it's really choice then we can choose a better reality even in the face of what is normally perceived to be a negative reality. It's all about perception. You really can change your life by changing your way of thinking. That being said, it's hard shit to actually do. 

When I started this blog, I thought I was pretty hot shit. I was very impressed with myself and certainly not afraid to wield what I believed to be my superiority. I was important don't ya know. I seriously shake my head at that thought today, mostly because my definition of important was so very different back then. I still think I am pretty hot shit, I am still pretty impressed with myself, and I certainly don't doubt my importance or the benefits I bring to those around me. The definition of all that today was allowed to grow somewhere in the experiences over the last two years especially (it's been less however that is a nice round number), it does not lie in the title that resides under my name which is where it was when I started this blog.  

It's actually been really difficult, these last couple of years. I try to write on the lessons and the insights, my goodness have there been a plethora (love that word), and not the difficulty level. It has however been difficult, I can't recall a time period where "journey" fit any better.

I started out confused, angry, and arrogant. Today I am more aware, grateful, humbled in a way that does not equate beating myself up, and proud of who I see in the mirror everyday. I had to look at why I was confused, angry, and arrogant a couple years back; I didn't much care for the view. I have always been smart enough to know you can not change what you can not control. I have not always been smart enough to know that very little is actually in my control, unless you count choice. I didn't.

It's perception. It is a choice to live each day positively and not negatively. It's a choice not to judge. It's a choice to examine and decide finding the positive is the only sane thing to do. It's a choice to stand by yourself; not alone but to stand "by" yourself in the very manner you'd stand by your friend. It's also a hard choice. It's also an active choice. It's a literal exercise everyday and along the way you will likely discover things that you never would have admitted, even alone with only the company of your horse.

You have to think, where is my lesson? How did I play into this? How can I make this a lesson and not a punishment? That's a big one right there. Admitting my hand in yuckiness used to mean on some level I failed, I suck, oh my god the world is going to finally know I am a sham. Admitting my hand in whatever the yuckiness is today means, ok so why did you ...? Sometimes that answer is simply "cause Carol you are human", sometimes that has to be enough. Once there I usually get a hint of the lesson. In each lesson is a piece of the new reality I have chosen.

That's all fantastic, I'm crazy pleased by all of it. Pretty amazed I made it through to this point truth be told. However, holy moly what a pain in the ass it is to look for the positive in a world turned upside down. What a bitch it is to realize you had a direct hand in turning part of that world upside down. How amazingly hard it is to forgive yourself for the same. How incredibly tiring it is to let yourself feel it all the way through without using it as some crazy weapon :-) How sad and uplifting it has been to look at it and let it go.

Today was the first time I had to really put this whole practice of looking at life differently, seeing the beauty, being at peace with me (good, bad, or indifferent), actively looking for a positive regardless of outcome, today was the first day I really really put it to work. Today I had to take all of what I have been allowed to learn over the last two years and apply it. It was intense. It still has me a bit shaken up, it's easy to think it all, it's easy to apply it all when you are applying it to a life filled with ponies and puppies; it's easy to make sense of it all when you've surrounded yourself with the best love there is. It's hard to do all that when you are walking into strangely familiar territory as a completely different person.

We made it through though, she says because I made it through sounds entirely too real and as mentioned, I can change my reality. Right now that reality needs "we" more then it need "I" so we're going with "we"!

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Oh Patch, how I wish we could have some chips and just chat.

Patch loved chips, he'd also stand right next to you and wait patiently for his next chip. For that matter he'd stand next to you and wait for any treat you might possibly have. That being said, he'd stand right next to you, treat or not, and listen to you ramble for as long as you needed.

I will now stop with the although, thereby, and that being said, and for that matter, crap.

You could talk to Patch, you could hang out with Patch. I spent many hours telling Patch things that Patch likely cared nothing about. We discussed everything from the price of bedding to the horrors that came from trying to re-figure life out at forty something.

It'd be nice to chat with him tonight, he's been heavy on my mind. Mostly because there is so much I'd like to tell him. The Princess found a new home. That would have been good news to Patch. Texas went home and Amber was sold. I met Brody, who has always reminded me of you (in spirit), the day after you died. The farm has changed, I have changed. There have been horses, and there is a special one for me again in Rev, but none of them are you. None of them stand in my door and wait, for however long, for the treat they know they will get.

I think of you every day, most days more than once. I don't tear up all the time anymore, mostly I smile and sorta cock my head like Leo when you cross my mind. I wonder, what people think when they see it? I'd bet my last bale of hay that they have no idea that a beautiful soul just ran across my memory flashing the cutest spotted ass the world has ever seen!

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