momzonroof

… she's not coming down 'til it all makes sense again…


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winter blues…

it’s cold on the hill this morning… I miss my Grandma… sometimes when I bend over and pick little things off the floor I think of her, she was always picking little things off the floor because the sweeper was too heavy…

drove by the barbershop on my way home, like I have every day for the last several decades… blinds were closed on the shop…sad to think.. ol’ Wayne won’t be holdin’ court in there any more on Wednesdays and Saturdays… watched the mailman deliver mail in his big ol’ mailbox built to look like a barn, badly in need of paint, that mailbox, I feel like painting it… would that be intrusive, to ask Donna if I can paint that mailbox? Come to think of it, my own mailbox and white post, (just had to have a white mailbox and white post) are in bad need of a fresh coat of paint themselves…

I’m schmoopey…

lunch yesterday at George’s with Mrs Riddle Michele, it took us a half hour to order because we had so much catching up to do before opening the menus, we had a waitress in her 70’s (which, incidently, isn’t seeming so old anymore, when you’re 51 yourself), but the waitress came back to take our order 12 times until she finally said, only half-joking, this is your last chance…my little friend put down her menu and said, I’m having a turkey club and I said SOOO WEIRD, I’M HAVING A TURKEY CLUB TOO! It was weird. Only she said mayo on the sandwich, I said mayo on the side.. I wish I’d asked for wheat bread… but it doesn’t really matter, regular wheat bread isn’t much different than white.. Also, the turkey club, this is my restaurant review, the turkey club had very little turkey and wayy too much club (lettuce, tomato, and bread)

very ashamed of my netflix viewing choices last night, plus the fact that I dragged my family down into that unforgivable vacuous sludge lagoon known as “Dance Moms”… by the third episode, Zack knew all the names and was outraged that Chloey never gets as much time nor attention as Maddie to perfect her routines, and so how is she ever going to win in the junior solo category…


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Zack’s Push-me-Pull-you moment

Zack was out feeding the horses some grain, so that he could reach through the fence and pet the baby horse… I looked out the kitchen window just as he looked up.. he seemed to be trying to get my attention, so I went to the door, opened it, and yelled out “WHAT?”   Zack jumped up, scared, and looked towards me but did not see me.  He then looked back at the horses…  He swirled around again and saw me at the door and said “For a second there, I thought the horse said that”.  I proceeded to laugh at him, almost falling out onto the porch.


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Medjool dates

got home tonight at 9:30, it’s so frigid out, the whole ride home, my back was CLENCHED, even though the car heater was on I couldn’t get warm, and knew that I had to go outside again and shut the horses in the barn… can’t stand to think of them with open barn door, wind blasting through and that agonizing cold,

I know they;re furry for a reason, but I still can’t stand them being out there.. last year it was unbearable, because it was one little horse, all alone… I’m no farmer.. I have no common sense… and so she spent more than a few nights in the garage, clomping about destroying the place, pulling everything off the shelves and pooping and peeing on it all…

So I got my barn coat on and my muck boots, a fresh bucket of water, and a handful of grain for each… headed out the door, into the fracturing wind and down the path to the gate… no horses in the pasture, they must be in the barn… I wonder and I wonder… do they stay in the same stall, do they hang together and keep each other warm.. do they like each other…  I dig my flashlight out of my pocket and shine it into the barn, hoping I don’t startle them…and what do you think I saw?

Two little horses, snuggled together in the back stall in the soft bedding,… I don’t have to wonder any more. They stay together and  keep each other warm. They may even like each other a little.

Medjool dates. I love ’em. Now. I love ’em now. Hated them last year, this year, I can’t get enough of them. I think it’s because I turned 51. My eyesight went to hell, but I got the medjool dates.


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Worth it

Cassie and I had a major breakthrough with Tank today, for that may be his name, so far everyone seems to find it agreeable… So we headed out to muddy slushy pasture,… I got them both to go in the barn and kinda cornered him in the back stall… then sloooooooow like molasses, I got up near him and reached for his halter… he didn’t like it much, but he didn’t panic… attached a lead to him, and one to Juniper, handed her off to Cassie, and away we went, round and round the pasture, she led, he followed.. we traded horses after a couple times around, so she could feel what he was like to lead… he’s like having a tiny firefly on the end of a string, you can barely feel him, until he gets scared and stops for a minute… but then if you let him think it’s his idea, he’ll start walking again… we did just a few rounds, and then left him go on a positive note, gave him his grain, and here comes Zack out to the fence… both him and Cassie reaching through the fence to pet a baby horse, discussing just which part of him is the softest, is it his neck, is it his forelock, is it his muzzle (Me, I already know the answer, it’s the muzzle, hands down.) My kids have never shown much interest in the horses, they’ve always seemed to consider them just Mom’s Kinda Annoying Kinda Smelly Yard-Hogging Pets… So if I ever questioned whether it was worth more than double the cost to get a baby horse over a two-yr old gelding… well, I’ll never question that again


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Jan 4, time to kick it in gear for the new year

time to get my list together, oh thank god for this enormous human brain, capable of so many things, especially LIST MAKING OH GLORY BE how I love to make lists…

you see, when you make lists, you are much more focused on goals and completion and accomplishment, and have no time for self-beration (i made this one up, it means to berate one’s self), self-flagellation, self-immolation, annihilation, degradation, humiliation, and other words which will come to me later… living in the moment, with my lists..

My dad likes the new pastor, he says.. The new pastor was giving his sermon, and man, can this guy PROJECT HIS VOICE, he is BOOMING from that pulpit, and lucky us, the family who always fills up the front three pews on Christmas Eve (that’s when I go to church, Christmas and Easter) So one Sunday, dad says, Pastor was delivering a hearty message, when out of the pews there arose such a clatter… a child did ring out, raising a fuss wailing cry, a child who was bored with the sermon perhaps, or itchy in a church sweater maybe? hungry? thirsty? just plain old cranky in church wanna run wanna play wanna eat gummy bears and peanut butter? who knows, but the parents began flustering about trying to shush the poor thing, and didn’t the pastor raise up his hand and say, “Don’t you worry after that baby, that is music to my ears! ” He explained that he was once pastor at a church with NO CHILDREN, for years and years, they had no children… and so…. perspective… and so, my dad likes that pastor. And this year, when mom and dad hosted the family New Years Eve party, and there were dogs and kids and games and food and drinks and cookies and blankets and pillows and people just strewn about from wall to wall, my dad said, “Don’t your worry after any of it, it’s music to my ears! It gets kinda quiet around here during the week with just me and your mother…”

Forgot to drink coffee the past couple days, just didn’t occur to me until this morning when I woke up with a crunchy little withdrawal headache… I’m drinking my coffee black for the past couple weeks, trying to give up dependence on Stevia, and other sweeteners, especially so much sugar, gads, the sugar…. so black coffee, could be why I forgot to drink it, just not as much to look forward to…

My dog’s been limping since Jan 2. Back left leg. We have no idea what or when or how she got hurt, can’t see anything swollen or cut, she lets us touch it and move it… but she won’t put it down. There are few things in this world more pitiable than watching a 34 lb turgid black water balloon hitch and lurch her way across the floor to her food bowl… She’s stayed pretty much curled up, tragically, in her little puppy bed, and the house is sadder for it, no Poppy bug-eyed wiggle-butt greetings, slobbering, licking, jumping up and scratching, climbing all over you with all her weight digging into your stomach or your temple, depending on if you’re sitting or lying on the couch… So… I’m waiting and watching and thinking… gotta go to the vet Monday… last time she had a limp, it took two weeks but it healed, it was a cut on her foot, where she and Boo got into and altercation and we had to rip them apart….sigh… it’s so bad when they fight… and so infrequent… but we never become complacent about it, especially Zachary and myself, we are in-tuned to the energy, we are direct-wired to those dogs, we can hear their change in pitch when they play, or can spot the raised hair on the back in an instant, and KIBOSH, we slam down the KIBOSH on the game or the toy, whatever it is… usually it’s a stick in the yard, they’re really weird about their sticks, like it’s the last stick in the world, and yet, the trees throw down an endless supply of new sticks daily, with every breeze, if only I could reason with a dog… So two days of worrying after the dog, and heart breaking watching her try to straddle on three legs to pee… pitiful… Then this morning we get up and head for the door, and doesn’t she go trip trip trip across the floor, FOUR LEGS hitting, not all the same, that back left one still tender, but she’s putting it down across the carpet, she still  lifts it at the hardwood floor… but down on carpet… and out she goes, pees on four legs, and back in, leg still lifted, now down again, one two three four legs hitting, and I’m so grateful to see her improving, and will never take for granted my little four-legged wiggling wild-eyed greeter, not that I ever did, I love her more than is probably healthy, but oh when they are injured… the sound of those four little paws hitting the ground, “music to my ears…”

Well, as we speak, Chicken just backed his way across the entry rug, hacking and spitting up hairballs or whatever they do, and now he’s moved over to my good dining room rug, still hacking and spewing… sigh… delightful sound, really, and I sip my black coffee…

so new year’s… goals… lists…

2015 For A Really Great Year, Not Perfect, Because Aiming For Perfection Makes You Sick, But a Really Great Attainable Year:

  1. Sunday dinners- this inspired by my friend, Michelle, I want to have a Sunday dinner with my whole fam once a month, sit down together, eat the stuff, and play some board games for at least an hour. we don’t do that any more, we crash with a movie, and I fall asleep within the first five minutes. we buy board games and card games and we don’t play them together, the kids might play here and there, but we don’t all play. we make meals, but then everyone eats when they get home, all staggered, on the run, on the COUCH even, not even at the table?!!! Ridiculous! Why did I get that beautiful table and chairs and why do we have dishes and glassware we never use, oh how I love those gorgeous blue glasses… Also CANDLES!! Inspired by my friend, Poola, we shall have candles and dinner music! Montovani even! Why not? Why not indeed. One a month is do-able and reasonable. Twelve dinners a year. I can do that.
  2. 200 work-outs in 2015. That averages to four days a week.  I probably averaged about 2.5 days a week last year, if I’m brutally honest… But that’s 100% more than I ever did in my life before that, so I’m gonna call that a WIN!! WEHEEEEEE!!!  I’m tracking work-outs on Dailymile.com. What qualifies as a work out… hmmm…. A) a bikeride, any distance, just the fact that we make the effort of loading and unloading the durn bikes is worth that!  B) jogging 3 miles on treadmill, or a half hour outdoors   3) 2000-2500 steps on stepmill, still my favorite workout… New goal is 3000 steps in 35 minutes, and NO LEANING ON THE HANDLES, ohmygosh, this dude at the gym, he told me one time that he gets 4000 steps!! And I was like, HOW ON EARTH, and I felt bad and wretched with my little pitiful 2000 steps… UNTIL: one day I saw him on the steps and I saw how he does it, he LEANS HIS ELBOWS ON THE HANDLEBARS, so that his legs are sorta hanging down and just spinning across the moving steps, Fred-Flintstone-like… he’s not doing the work of lifting his body weight! Cheating! And you’re only foolin’ yourself, buddy.. feeling smug and superior… lol… I shouldn’t do that, smugness never gets me anywhere… 4) 18-20 minutes of Turbo Workouts with Craig Ballantyne
  3. JANUARY GOAL: Get more life insurance and update Will. Ugh… blech blech blechhhhh   this one’s been at top of the list for 3 years. I’m setting this as a JANUARY 2015 GOAL. GET IT DONE.
  4. Catch up on backlog of pictures. Get them developed and into albums. Not too many though. I do not have to have every pic developed. what’s a good number? I don’t know. 300? 400 per year? That’s reasonable, that’s about one per day… right? I have no perspective, I’ve got such a mess down there. I also want to work on the kids’ scrapbooks. is that out-dated? Will anyone want theirs? I don’t know… no perspective… I’m gonna think about this…
  5. Clean craft room and first garage and get my life back. Take stuff to auction. Let go.Make space to work and live and breathe… let it go… collections KILL, man, didn’t you learn anything by watching Hoarders? Collections kill… good mantra…
  6. No yard sailing. Let it go. Or maybe once a month in the summer.. and only for clothing and building supplies. And pillow cases. I love my pillow cases. But No nick nacks, no lawn ornaments. Also, let a few of the lesser pillow cases go. Let them GO, you do not need two giant stacks. Let the colorless, charmless ones go! Make room for better ones!
  7. Work 10 days a month, subbing for the next 5 months. That’s part-time and doable, and allows me time to get Cassie to school, and covers the grocery bill and my pillow case habit, also, my summer’s are free. the perfect job!
  8. Write. SOMETHING. even if it’s just this gobbledeegook journal, 100 entries in 2015? Why NOT?? Why the heck not… Do-able. This has been a hard one to stick to in the past. But do-able. That’s every third or fourth day.
  9. Sew more stuff. Use up half of that huge pile of material and scraps. USE IT!!! Or let it go!
  10. Renovate Christmas. Remake it. Shape it into something meaningful, with meaning, that totally means something, instead of driving you crazy. You do it every year. You are literally sick of it. Christmas is not a bad thing, you only make it bad.
  11. JANUARY GOAL: Get Dad and Aunt Alice and my scanner and my computer together and get those pictures developed and saved on labeled discs.
  12. FEBRUARY GOAL: Finish labeling family trees, especially Vannaukers and Yosts, and Roy’s FINISH them!!
  13. CAMPER GOAL I’m setting this as a MARCH GOAL-new cushion covers and curtains
  14. HORSE TRAILER GOAL-get it out and take the horses places. They want to see new things too. And I should share a baby horse with others, it’s selfish to have all that fluff and velvety softness to myself. ONE TWO THREE times this year
  15. VEHICLE GOAL- get a bigger vehicle that can haul my camper and my horse trailer and young people and dogs and my entire family. Geez. Having mini-van dreams again…
  16. FEBRUARY GOAL- don’t freak out in the gray slush. Plan some fun things. Hike at the Yough and see the frozen falls. See a  play or two. Meet Darlene at the cottage and camp out, go out for steaks… HAVE A PLAN, because February is rough.
  17. ROY GOAL: invite my fatherinlaw over for dinner at least 6 times, 12 would be better, GOSH, this is a no brainer, but if I don’t write it down, I’ll not remember. Do-able. ONE (had Roy over for french toast after he and Hubs went for hay 1.4.15 TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE
  18. Mindfulness Goal: Move more mindfully. Resolve to hit your knuckles on the dryer opening WAYYYY less often. This happens because you are in a hurry, slamming about,  and not enjoying the simple basic motion of doing the laundry in working, functional machines… Remember when you didn’t have a dryer, and you had to haul the wet loads up three flights of stairs to the attic to hang dry in the hot air of an old house? Or strewing wet clothes out across chair backs and broom handles in the sun in the tiny postage stamp backyard, because you didn’t even have a clothesline? You remember those times? Move more mindfully than ever, so you don’t fall and bust an ankle too, you can’t jump off the rock wall out front any more, you’re not 12, you forget… You can still run, but the jumping has to be regulated.
  19. Get the horses’ hooves done more often this year. They need more filing in between visits from the farrier, you can do this, GET A BETTER FILE FOR ONE THING, and they need more visits from the farrier. Period. Do-able. MAY  AUG NOV
  20. GREENHOUSE GOAL: build a greenhouse this year. just do it. it’ll be worth it.
  21. CHICKEN GOAL: Get chickens. It’ll be worth it.
  22. Better relationship with the internet. Time limits. Stop clicking on celebrity gossip TIME suck, who gives a DOO DAH, gosh, you’re wasting time…
  23. Better sleep
  24. Cat Feeder, mouse problem
  25. Dog stairs, figure it out

HOOOBOY, you see what I mean about the list-making, I could go on for days…  It’s raining like sixty outside, a warm January rain… what the heck is that, the pasture is thawed and sloppy as hell, I’m gonna take advantage of it and get out there and clean out the barn good, it’s a messy job, but think of happier little horses and also the compost, beautiful black GOLD!!

Also, much of today will be devoted to Zack’s history project. Sigh… He wants to make some sorta diorama of The Fountain of Youth, which I disagree with on the grounds that it’s a fictional rumor, a legend, not a historical fact.. but he argues that Ponce de Leon was a real human who did stuff in history…  Right now he’s reading Jon Stewart’s book America-the Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction, which I picked up for him at the library, he looks up just now, and he says, Mom, what is this book, it’s not factual, but it’s hilarious!! Welcome to political satire, son, keep your sense of humor, you’re going to need it… Love that kid, he’s music to my ears


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tossed about in a sea of tiny horses

That was me and Cassie the other day, tossed about in a sea of tiny horses… it’s surreal, on retrospect… Did that really happen? Did we really see and touch and feel all that? All the little necks to scratch, and noses to nuzzle and furry little legs to run your hands down… All the curious curious little horsie noses, sniffing and snuggling up, looking for grains and treats and petting… 

There were 60-some-odd horses there, 43 of them were for sale, of which 17 were pregnant mares (two-fers!), 15 were brand new 2014 foals, there were a couple grown geldings, and a few older mares…  The lady, I’ll call her Elaine, for that is her name, is recently divorced, and needs to downsize her work load. Her daughter is a veterinarian with a practice right up the road, and she’s also transferring ownership of the minis to her daughter, they’re in the process right now… So that’s why so many for sale..

I google-mapped it before we went, and was able to peer down on the acres and acres of pasture, she had about 5 different pastures, all dotted with tiny horses…google maps is amazing.. My husband pulled out the horse trailer before I left, and found that it had a flat tire… which required a trip to the hardware store because OF COURSE the “Tire Guy”, (he used to work in a tire shop and so, knows his tires, and should have about 5.3 MILLION thingie-doodles that you hook the air compressor up to the tire to pump them up…) but of course he couldnt’ find a single thingie-doodle,  I had to leave right away, couldn’t take the trailer that day, which was probably for the best, because I could’ve fit about 4 baby horses in there…

So we set out on a fact-finding mission.. Elaine was so very nice, she gave us almost 3 hours of her time, just walking and talking little horses… It was all so confusing, she had about 18 pages of computer print-outs, each horse has a big flowery froo-froo name for registration with the AMHA and AMHR, and I know the registries and the lineages and the long flowery names are really important to a good breeder, as some of the horses were priced in the thousands and tens of thousands even! She showed me a filly she said was priced at $15,000, which to my eye, it looked just as good as another right next to it for $500… I really mean that. I looked and looked, but they were both beautiful and fine and nice conformation… I actually do know what to look for a little in that regard, fer instance, Juniper is wonky as hell as far as conformation, but she’s a beautiful little pet, so.. it just doesn’t matter,  I’m looking for basically another large “dog” to follow me around the yard, look cute, provide companionship for my other horse, let me bury my face in soft furry horsie smell, and produce tiny piles of black-gold for the garden. That’s all I want from a horse. 

So she had horses that were from the “Billy Idol” lineage, which cracked me up, especially when Cassie kept cross-referencing Billy Idol to Neil Diamond, whom I always cross-reference to Neil Sedaka, which… YUCK, no offence Neil Sedaka, but… okay, YUCK… offence… and occasionally Neil Simon, why so friggin’ many NEILS… but NEVER EVER Neil Young, I would never cross reference Neil Young with anyone.. 

We walked into one of the larger barns, and the horses came a runnin’… suddenly we were engulfed in tiny horses, just moving all around us, sniffing, jockeying for position… but all very silently, like deer, I don’t think I heard a single whinny the whole time we were there… no real snorting, nothing… they were like little deer with giant limpid eyes… so many furry little heads, some timid, some all up in yer grill.. I was amazed how gentle though, all that tromping around, so many hooves, so many legs, and still so gentle..  The nice lady scooped grain into feeders, pointed out horses and flipped through her pages and pages, trying to find prices… it was really confusing, she really needed a single page with just prices, especially with that many for sale at once, and the horses don’t help, they don’t exactly line up in order and stand there, they were everywhere, I couldn’t keep them straight in my head… I actually ended up with a HEAD ACHE, from trying to concentrate and decide, the pressure, the intensity of SO MUCH CUTE… and I never get headaches! She’s telling me their “pasture names” and their registry names and their lineage and their price and their age, and who begat who, and she’s got papers flying everywhere, and the horses keep moving, they would grab a little grain and move out…  I fell in love with Buttercup, of course, probably the largest horse there, a white fluffy whooly old gal, she was stuck to us like glue, nudging and nuzzling, such a sweet sweet horse, and you know they know how to work ya, how to find their way into your heart, humans are just as much suckers for attention as any other species… 

She showed us a couple geldings, 2 or 3 yrs old, a chestnut with a white blaze on his forelock, and a pinto, mostly white with chestnut…  I really liked the first one… he’s a possibility.

She showed me a few mares… one was just teeny tiny and round as a pool cue… just fat little things. All of them were round, I think they get a lot more grain than mine, Elaine and her daughter were just scooping out the grain by the bucketful… I never know what to feed mine, there’s so much conflicting info… some people don’t give their minis grain at all even, just hay! Who knows… I think Juniper gets enough, she’s somewhere in the mid range..

The couple stallions she had were sequestered in their own paddock, on accounta they have to be. She said if two of them get loose into the same pasture, they will fight to bloody or worse. They were gorgeous though, it was a sunny, windy day and the manes were just blowing, proud muscular little horses… When they look like that, like real miniatureized horses, it’s hard to keep your perspective to scale.. the landscape and trees rush up and back, re-sizing in your brain, and your forget what you’re looking at..

She took us for a ride up the rode a couple miles, where they keep the weanlings, at her daughter’s place. She said it’s easier and less stressful on both the mother and the foal if the babies are just moved out for a while, and they can’t see or smell or hear each other. So didn’t we walk into a barn full of BABY MINIATURE HORSES, took my breath away… and of course right at that moment the sun shone through the spaces in the barn boards in magic rays, you know, like the sun does, and of course the dust danced in the light, I’m not making this up, and as our eyes adjusted to the back-lighting, we came to see about 15 tiny heads, oh the quiet little heads, all turned to us at once, curious, 30 long-lashed little eyeballs, peering at us, moving toward us, so timid, so quiet, like tiny forest creatures…  It was almost in a a way, kinda creepy…eerie… You know what it looks like on video when they computer generate a big herd of deer and they all move together and blink together? It was like that.But also magical, mystical, not menacing like deer. Deer can be freaky. Well, bucks. Bucks can be freaky. Does and fawns not so much…  We walked into the stall and the tiny herd moved around us, not as close as the grown horses, but not afraid, just moving… a couple were more bold, and approached us and sniffled for treats, or pushed with already bossy little muzzles… 

So many colors, gorgeous little white legs, and the tiny baby horse faces, the round little cheeks, stars on forelocks, strips of white down muzzles, reds, bays, silvers, pintos, tiny baby coats… Elaine said some of them would change from black to white, as they grew!  Of course my eyes settled on one particular baby horse, (I had asked her to point out the colts in my price range, pet quality), and of course it was one of the tiniest horses amongst tiny horses… he’s brownish/gray colored, it sounds dull but it’s not..he was the only one that color, and no markings at all. But just the cutest roundest sweetest little face.. their faces are really distinctive, some look really long and lean and horse-like, and some are rounder and softer, and some have really wide bulgy foreheads and it always surprises me when a real horse-person says “This one has such a pretty head” because I think, YUCK… I guess the ones that look pony-like/baby-like appeal to me more… I just don’t have an eye for show horses…

She wrangled the tiny gray/brown colt into a halter, it was the first time for him, he jumped around a bit,but settled in pretty quick, so I held him by the lead and tried to touch his little tiny nose, he was so shy and tiny and scared, so we just stood still for a while. Now that I write this I realize that may be my horse… how can I not get a tiny baby… sigh… 

Did any of the horses walk right up and in a flash like lightning I instantly knew that this was my horse? Well, no. I know the lady wanted that to happen, or maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen, or maybe that’s what happens for most people? I have no idea. I had my heart a tiny bit hardened against impulse before I went, I was determined to come home and think about what I’d seen. Every time I left one horse and asked about another, Elaine would say in a mournful way, “Oh, sorry, Buttercup, you didn’t steal her heart..” I know she was kidding, she wasn’t pressuring me, but it was hard for me, I wanted to take them all..

 

Once a few years back, right after I got Lily and Juniper, I went to a horse show in the next township over… I was sitting in the bleachers, just kinda confused, … watching…. trying to learn stuff… and a lady came out of the show ring with her mini, tromped over and sat near me, her family was there.. but the horse was rearing and dancing about, agitated, wild… who knows what they go through to get ready for show, but the lady was FURIOUS with the horse, and she YANKED it down by the halter, yanked hard, and she hissed at it through her teeth, I forget what, but the yanking and the anger and the stress I remember…  There were a few times I remember trying to walk Juniper and she was flipping out because I hadn’t spent enough time working with her, and I remember that anger and frustration…so I’m trying not to judge the lady, because I’ve had my own time when I had 4 young children and a messy house and messy dogs and cats and no money and no time and no real clue about what’s important, and no insight as to how to cope… I’ve been furious, and I’ve been reactive, and I’ve been scary and mean… I have to live with the memories of that. But now I have insight, and better coping skills… more importantly, I’ve learned to be the Observer… of my SELF.. you know, I wish I remembered where I read this, but someone once said “I know all I need to know about you, when I watch you try to untangle a necklace”, that statement was life-altering to me…it instantly catapulted me into Observer, I saw myself as others see me, and more importantly, I saw what would be my future memories, how I would remember myself… I saw that I have choice… I saw that I have an energy, and that I can project it, for good and for bad… 

sometimes when my son starts chattering to me about Tetris or another video game and he’s waving his hands about and his face is all lit up animated and he’s explaining, explaining, explaining, and the terminology just sounds like gibberish, lines and lock downs and spinning tretriminios whatever… and this guy shoulda this and that guy shoulda that… and he’s laughing and telling me more and more and more and I don’t get the jokes but I laugh, and I just sorta can’t hear him anymore, I’m just enjoying his face and his enthusiasm and just the fact that he wants to tell me anything at all… and when he starts winding down his story I try to quickly grasp at some or other factoid to inquire about or comment upon, so that he thinks I was comprehending… when all I was really doing was admiring his beauty…

So at the end of the day, I couldn’t choose a horse. Did I want to take on a baby, with 30-40 year life-span… I’m 51 yrs old… but I plan to live to at least 100, so…  Do I want to take on an older mare, and have to deal with putting her down at some point… A young gelding? Meh… in the end, it really doesn’t matter, a horse is  a horse of course of course, it will wiggle and whinny its way into my heart and it will break my heart at the end and it’s like that with every animal, and that will be that. My husband’s got the trailer out and the tire pumped… it’s an hour drive back up to the horse breeder’s place… I think I can carve out some time Thursday to take a ride up… 


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Collecting Names at the Farm Auction

Hangin out yesterday with Dad at the farm auction… Was supposed to be gorgeous and sunny, turned out windy and cloudy and warm, with enough little drizzly rain to make for a challenge, keeping the gorgeous antique table I took to sell dry until the auctioneer could reach it… I was the last person to pull up and unload, and so, yay, my stuff was the last to get sold, praying for the clouds to hold, just hold…drizzle drizzle drizzle… The auctioneer finally made it down the row around 6pm, and I made out pretty well, mostly due to my Lincoln Logs, a rocking horse, and that table…

Dad and I had the traditional hot sausage sandwiches and fresh cut fries, sat at a picnic table between the vendor’s trailer and the crappy little creek that runs through the place. Kids were playing in the creek, piling rocks across in an attempt to build a little kid type creek bridge…well.. you know how a creek can be kinda picturesque and gurgling and babbling and rocky and quaint and trundling along through the trees and make you wanna build a little boat of sticks with a leaf for a sail and an acorn for a captain? This creek AIN’T THAT.  Instead, it trundles through a giant 70 acre flea market field, with 14 porto-johns upstream, and where some amazing humans roam, ohhhhh, the people watching at Roger’s farm auction… Oh the amount of hawkerin’ and spittin’, and chewin’ and chawin’ at Roger’s farm auction… oh the miles and miles of exposed, unwashed, hairy, sun-scorched weather wizened beer guts… I’ don’t mean to generalize, there are clean, lovely people there, but they are mostly the auctioneers. I should talk,  I went with 3rd-day unwashed hair, flat,brown, and stringy… But my clothes were clean. And I had clothes on most of my body. I had the proper number of clothing items.

Dad’s hand is all bummed up, he was in a lot of pain and tried to keep it elevated. He cut his middle finger, left hand, and banged up the other fingers in an unfortunate encounter with a home-made table saw.. He says he picked it up at a sale, it was a really neat little table, with a circular saw inverted and mounted beneath it! (Dad owns approximately 14,000 REAL store-bought, name-brand table saws, but he had to have this jerry-rigged outfit, onaccounta the table was, in his words “really a neat little table”)  So he says his good table saws had a bunch of crap piled on them,  (AHEM…sound familiar?) so he decided to use this little one to cut a few boards, real quick. He doesn’t know how it happened, but suddenly,ZINGO, he’s hurt, he says he must’ve jumped up and down and run about for 10 minutes from the white blinding deafening pain, before he finally staggered towards the house and knocked on the window for my mom… She’s used to it by now, sometimes he’s standing, sometimes he’s crawling, sometimes he’s laying on the porch reaching up, doesn’t matter, she knows the knock.. It must’ve been awful, because Dad actually consented to go to urgent-care. Who promptly sent him on his way to the actual hospital for stitches. Dad also said he had had a “preemonition” that he was gonna get hurt on that saw, he says premonition with a long e, he said he felt like something was gonna happen while he was setting up the “saw”, he said he did use another board to guide through with his right hand, and then KABOINGO, out of the blue his left hand decides to join in? Weird.Maybe he reached for the little scrappie waste piece or something…  Ohhhhhh I just remembered, he said the saw was set to always be TURNED ON when it’s plugged in, no shut off!! Yeah, that would exponentially increase the danger factor by about a million! Pretty sure that wasn’t a preemonition he had, pretty sure that was his Common Sense talking to him…

But we’re sitting at the table, enjoying the sewer creek, and the sights, and the hotcha sausage… and he sees an old friend from the plant, Gene, we’ll call him Gene Henry, for that is his name. Gene sits for a spell and they talk about Dad’s stitches, and other injury stories. Dad’s got a lot of ’em. Gene says he should write them all down. The nice lady who’s also sitting at table with us, eating her steak hoagie, she’s listening to Dad’s stories, and she says to me, jeesh, he sure does have a lot of things happen to him!! Dad asks Gene, hey, have you run into Dick? They have a mutual former coworker, whose given name is Richard. His last name is Seaman. Dick Seaman. And so I said, WUH? SERIOUSLY?!! I went to school with a “Richard Head,” but this one tops even that. So we had some laughs at Dick’s expense, I’m sure he’s used to it by now, he’s probably in his 70’s too…

Sometimes my dad wanders away to check out another auctioneer (they have 5 or 6 going at once, up the rows), and so I might lose him for a while, in a sea of dad-lookin-like dudes… they have a uniform, I think, these retired auto workers, they stand out from the unwashed crowd, fly their own colors, with the gray hair and glasses, ball cap front-ways and straight, brim bent to some custom curve, neat jeans, always belted, tucked in t-shirt, keys going jingle jangle, if there’s a jacket it’ll be camo or carhart… Sometimes it can be hard to find my own Dad. I want to tie a balloon to his beltloop, is what I want to do. Or give him a hot pink ball cap. I don’t much worry these days though, about losing him there… I just mill around and eventually we meet up again. But it sure would be amusing to see a balloon bobbin’ along in the crowd, and know right where he’s at!

Dad sees another dude, this one in a motorized scooter, and he says hey I gotta talk to this guy, it’s the Tire Guy! Dad brought his two new tires to the sale, in the hopes that he’d run into the Tire Guy, onaccounta he’s all bummed up and can’t mount his own tires this month… So he asks the dude, hey, who do you have to mount tires, anyone close by? And the dude says, “yeah, you go up this here road a piece, you’ll come to a dip, bear right, you go one up to the white fence, run along it for a bit till you come to a ditch where a tree and rock and a stick meet, or something… anyways, there’s a guy sits up there, you’ll know him when you see him, he’s got the WORST NAME IN THE WORLD,  i’ll warn ya… ”  He’s chuckling merrily in his little scooter thing when he gets to this part, and he’s eyein’ me up, wonderin’ if he should say this terrible name in front of me… I must’ve measured up okay, because he says “His name is (wait for it….)

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His name is…

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Harry.

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That’s his first name. His last name is

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Beavers. Harry Beavers. And then the Tire Dude busts up, Dad and I roar back on our feet, Harry Beavers?! Seriously?? So I say, DAD, you gotta tell him about your friend DICK!!! And did we have some laughs, now at Harry Beavers’ expense.

And so we go on, collecting injuries, and stories, and very some inneresting names…

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. edited to include some dadisms Amanda reminded me of:  Dad likes to say “I have a two-stall garage and a six-stall two-story barn, and I got no place to park a car!” and then he says about his packed-full barn, he says, “You can’t throw a nickel in there, it spits out 2 cents change!”