Lesson learned

So I've been AWOL from the web for awhile.
This spring I was pretty sick -- a crazy "perfect storm" of health concerns -- shattered shoulder requiring surgery to install a metal plate and 14 screws to put me back together, and then 2 weeks later my appendix had some issues and had to be removed.  Some day I'll give you the long version of events.  For now I will tell you I was several months recovering and have returned to good health.

When I get philosophical about that time I think those dark months were meant to bring me some life lessons, some of which I will share here eventually.

For now, I am going to share the one practical thing that came out of the whole mess.
I call it the "30 min. dash."

When I was first out of the hospital it was still quite wintery and it wasn't safe for me to walk outside in case I slipped on the ice or snow.  The problem was walking was part of the recovery plan; starting with just a five minute walk and working up to 30 minutes at a stretch.  I improvised.
I set the kitchen timer and walked around my two-storey house -- around the basement, up stairs to main floor, around the main floor rooms, up the stairs and around the second story.  While I was on the prowl I would straighten or tidy small things as I went.  If something needed to be put away upstairs, then I just carried it with me on my walk and put it away when I got to that floor.

Know what I discovered?
I discovered that my house got tidy, really tidy, really fast.

So even now, I set my timer and continue the walk and tidy "dash" as an easy way to keep the house looking good.  In truth, I can get it in shape in 15-20 minutes, depending on how much Girl has left laying around.  Sometimes I keep going for the 30 minutes just to keep moving, and to give me time to reflect on how far I have come.  Lesson learned.

a perfect day

Today was a near perfect day.

Went to church.  Spirit renewed.
Went riding with Zoey.  Spirit refreshed.
Worked in the garden.  Found my zen.
Snuggled on the couch with the kittens.  Calmed my soul.
Had bonfire supper with the family.  Fed my soul, and self.
Went for a bike ride with girl.   (This is where the perfect got a bit messed up.)

As we rounded the corner on our bike ride I noticed a big black cat (with a dead mouse in it's mouth) cross the sidewalk in front of us.  I thought to myself, "how close does a black cat need to be to you when it crosses your path to have bad luck?"  Then my thinker said back, "probably a lot closer than that."

Nope.

Literally the nano-second after I had those thoughts Girl fell off her bike.  Just wobbled and wiggled and lost her balance.  She wasn't seriously hurt, but left a lot of skin on the sidewalk.  She was a good sport about it, but those multiple scrapes really hurt.  We biked back home, cleaned wounds and let the kittens cheer her up.

The end of my near perfect day?
Blogging time.  Rejuvenates the creative juices.

See you soon.

the beasts at shady lane

This is Lucy.

This is her twin sister, Ruby.  The only way to tell them a part is that Ruby has 4 whisker freckles in a line on each side of her nose.  Lucy's whisker freckles are in a triangle instead of a line, and there are 5 of them.







You will notice that Ruby's left eye looks a bit weird.  Turn out both kitties has some bacterial infection in their eyes. It got both of Lucy's eyes.  So I took them to the vet for medication and advice.  I picked up an ointment to put in their eyes.  It has to be done 3 times a day for 14 days...
Every try to get ointment in a kitten's eyes?  You would swear you are wresting an ocotopus.  Boy usually holds them, and I try to get the stuff in the eyes without poking them with the tube.  We both end up covered in hair, and sweating from the effort.  It is really quite a production.  How can a kitten weighting 1.4 lbs be so strong, and flexible, and scary?

And this is Smoke our other creature.  He doesn't need eye goop so I love him best right now.  But his litter box does take longer to clean out...

Look who's here, mom!

I was away at a conference for one night and a day.
When I got home, guess who was here to meet me....

Two new friends.

I didn't exactly know they were coming, but they are too cute to kick out.

No names yet, I'll let you know when we've settled on names that suit.

We had this great kitty, named Rocky. Sometimes Rocko or Rockster, or Rockstar.  Sometimes Dumbass or Ding Dong.

He thought he was a tiger or at the very least, a jungle kitty.

Right from the start he got himself into all kinds of trouble....

He loved water.

Rocky thought he was really good at hiding.

He also thought he was human.

If you go to "google images" and type "google kitty" he's there.  Rocky on the web.

Well Tuesday night we lost our little buddy.  He was hit by a car on the road.  We've found him a final resting place under the tree he used to climb in the back yard.  The crew here at Shady Lane is pretty sad, and will be for awhile.
It just isn't the same around here without him.  He didn't flop down on the carpet with a "murr"  (not a meow) while we watched TV.  He didn't climb on my pillow to get me up after the alarm this morning.  DH didn't have anyone following him to the bathroom looking for treats. And Boy and Girl didn't have him to greet them when they got off the bus today.
Our fuzzy buddy is missed.

God speed, Rocky.  We miss you.
Amen.

touchstone

It has been a crazy week.  I've had some issues and they are dragging me down.

Part 1
I have an eternally optimistic happy friend who yesterday promised me that "there is a silver lining," and "this too shall pass."  Then I talked to someone who assured me that "this is only going to get worse" and I should "learn to deal with difficult people, cause there are lots of them and sometimes they have it out for you."
So I went to my lovely, optimistic friend and I said to her, "You lied to me.  This is bad, and it will get worse.  There is no silver lining. So there.  I am going to my office to wallow in self doubt and pity."  And I did.

Part 2
I don't watch a lot of TV, but my one constant show is the Young and the Restless.  I confess.  I DVR it, but I still only see it about twice a week.  That however, is enough to keep me up to date.  On Y&R Sharon has recently discovered that she has a mental illness.  Her therapist told her that sometimes [crazy people] find a touchstone helpful and calming.  A touch stone is an item, or piece of music or video that they continually go back to for grounding.

Part 3
It's possible that I am in need of a touchstone.  My lovely optimistic friend showed me a video clip from you tube this week that I have now watched 12 times.  I am going to watch it again when I put the link here, and probably again before bed.  It makes me happy.  It is calming.  It is my new touchstone.  I think you will like it to -- you don't have to be going nuts to appreciate the magic.  Enjoy.

Part 4
My lovely optimistic friend also delivered gluten free one-bite brownies to my door.  They can't be a touchstone -- I ate the bag already.

Boy humour

This is Boy and his best bud, D.

Don't think they didn't plan this....'cause they did.
This is 14 year old boy humour.
It just is.

Age

I have pneumonia -- I am getting over it, but my ribs still ache and sometimes my breath just goes away.  Like, completely away.  Then I make this knarly sucking-in sound that could be construed as a cough or laugh but either way doesn't really look nor sound quite right.  When I make that sound and hold my ribs, the kids at school look at me and then back slowly away.  My family has grown immune to that sound, so they just ignore me.

Catching my breath has made me think about aging.  I think only really young people and really old people get pneumonia.

I am not young.

I know.

I know because I filled out an online survey today and I had click on the scroll down box to find the year of my birth.  I had to scroll down.  Waaaayyy down.

That proves it.

I am old.

and wheezy.

I will call him Dougie

this is not my photo -- just a random clip from Google images...

Boy went to buy another lawnmower from a local auction house.  Turns out that it there was a pony auction before the lawnmowers went up on the block.  Boy was very taken with the ponies.  Some were only going for "tens of dollars."

Boy came home with a push lawnmower with deluxe wheels, but no pony.  (Thank heavens!) But he is convinced it would be a great pet.

This is how he tried to convince me:

Boy:  Mom, you wouldn't have believed how cute these ponies were.
Me:  uh huh
Boy:  ...and small, they were really small.
Me:  uh huh
Boy:  small like a dog.  We should get one.
Me:  silent. I give him the look that clearly says "over my dead body."  He does not get the message -- I'll have to work on my "look."
Boy:  It would be so great.  It could pull a cart.  It could pull the cart with my lawnmower in it, so we wouldn't waste so much gas.
Me:  Where would we keep a pony?
Boy:  With Smoke.  Or we could build a wee tiny pen in the shed.  Or Girl's little house.  It could even come in our house sometimes 'cause it'd be small enough. And if you had to take it to the vet, the vet wouldn't have to make a house call, we could just load it in the back of the jeep and take it to town. That would save a lot of money, wouldn't it?  That's a good idea.
Me:  again with the look.
Boy:  If I got a miniature pony I'd call it Douglas.  Dougie for short.  I would love him and squeeze him and call him my friend.
Me:  Really, Dougie is a good horse name is it?
Boy:  Also, Dougie could be chick magnet. Girls love horses.
Me:  ...and just how is that going to go.  Are you going to say, "hey pretty girl, want to see my leetle horsey?"
Boy:  Boy leaves the room --he's got nothing.

Mom -- score 1.

a nap

Today I had a nap.
A long nap.
The kind of nap that leaves you with drool on your face and the sensation in the back of your throat that means you've been snoring.

I got to have a nap because I didn't have school today (yeah!) and because DH and the kids went to pick up some brake parts for my Jeep.

When I awoke from my 10 min. rest (2 1/2 hours later) I found that they came home with a bit more than brake parts....

Here's the list:
-brake parts
-2 pairs of leather gloves
-1 boot jack
-1 saddle cover
-3 signs that say "Cadillac"
-1 pink coat
-1 pair of pink fuzzy slipper (guess who the coat and slippers are for?)
-a baby bottle for dolls (again, guess who?)
and
-1 John Deere lawn mower -- a REAL lawnmower, not a toy

How, how does this happen?

It happened because I took a nap instead of riding along.
It is ALL my fault...

Good night.

This is me, and Smoke.  His is the big butt with the tail; I'm the big butt sans tail...

This is Smoke and I before we went for ride.

This is me with Smoke.  I love him.

Very much.

Amen.

As essay about Girl

...well, an essay about Girl and Me.

I'm using the term essay 'cause I sense this might be a long post.  I'm warning you now so that if you have better things to do than ponder my life (mine and Girl's) then you may want to skiddaddle and do that something else that awaits.

When Girl was born I had secret wish that she would grow up to love horses and riding.  I didn't tell anyone, but my heart sang out loud when she first asked if she could take riding lessons.

I have loved horses my whole life.  From about the age of 20 until Girl took an interest a few years ago, I just kept my passion tucked away.   I love going with Girl to the stable.

Sometimes my job is not very nice.  I love what I do but there are just some days that are difficult.  For example, the other day I had to assist CAS as they apprehended a child into foster care for abuse and neglect in the home.   I did what I had to do, but there is just no good in that.

Sometimes shovelling the sh*& at the barn is preferable to shovelling the other kind I occasionally have to deal with.

I also think that it is an honour to serve the great horse(s) in front of me.  To provide a creature with comfort and companionship (and truthfully, receive the same in return) can only be called an honour.

I think Girl would say the same here -- the barn makes even the worst day better.  It doesn't take long after I've picked up a curry comb to find that the worries of the day are gone.  I wonder if the gals who work in the stable realize that they have the best job in the world?

And so, this need of mine to be part of the equine world led to finding a beautiful quarter horse for Girl.  For now, we are leasing him to see if he will be a good "fit" for Girl, but I don't think it will be long before we discover that the fit is perfect.  I  might love him already.  His barn name is Smoke.  The photo above is Girl taking him to the ring for her first ride.  It doesn't look like it in the picture, but she really is floating.  Smoke was a complete surprise to her.  I couldn't help crying when I saw her face when she realized that he was for her.

I'm a little weepy now thinking about it.

Smoke will give her so much.  She can't even possibly begin to imagine how he will affect her life.  I know it, because I lived it my Appaloosa some 20 years ago.  I know because already I see what C and her stable have done for my Girl.  She has learned responsibility, compassion, caring, sportsmanship, facing frustration and defeat, courage and strength.  Learned these things from C and her horses in a way that I could not teach alone.

I look forward to our time with Smoke -- I think maybe he is as good for my heart and spirit as for Girl's.

display

Over the past several years Girl has gotten quite a number of ribbons from her horse shows.  The question of displaying them or stashing them has come up many times.

This is how we solved the problem in her room

I attached rows of string across the transom window above the door in her room.  I just tacked it to the wood.  The back of the ribbons has a little hook that just slips over the string.  I can fit about 5 rows of ribbons across here; at that point we may have to look for a larger room because there is no way Girl will agree to stop trying to collect them....

I have gathered a couple of ribbons for myself and I didn't want them to hang in my room or office.  I got this idea from "google."  (You really can google anything!)

I rolled up the ribbons so just the flowerette shows and put them into a large apothecary jar.  The jar is full so I am done showing...

Questions of the universe

1.  If you are Boy and it is your first day of high school (gulp) and it is pouring rain, which is more embarrassing -- arriving at school soaking wet OR having your mother show up in her jeep at the bus stop?

2.  Why are all of Boy's socks always inside out in the laundry?

3.  Why is Shout required for ALL of Girl's t-shirts?

4.  Has Girl ever heard of a napkin?

5.  Why, when it is pouring, pouring, pouring rain is the umbrella in the jeep and not in the closet?

6.  Why is sending a child to Grade 9 as traumatic as sending him to Kindergarten?

7. Am I the only mom who weeps thinking about 5 years from now?

8.  Is sending your child to college as traumatic as sending him to Kindergarten, or Grade 9, or more so?

9.  Why does Girl tell me 10 minutes before bed time that she has to read for 30 minutes for homework?

10. Why is there always one pair of underwear in the mama drawer that just doesn't stay where it is supposed to -- why did I pick it from the drawer this morning?

11.  Why was I compelled to share #10?

Anti-fowl

Our neighbours have birds.  Not nice song birds, or pretty birds like parrots; theirs are foul (fowl) kinds of birds -- chickens, turkeys and a rooster.

The turkeys stink, but I don't hang out in their back yard to smell them.  I wasn't impressed when they came to my backyard to visit this spring, but Boy put the run on them and they haven't been back.

What I do object to is the rooster.

He is loud.

He can't tell time.  There is none of this early morning cock-a-doodle-doing.  This guy cock-a-doodles ALL day long.  I think he might be blind or something.

It drives me crazy.  I've debated complaining, but I don't know to whom -- do you call the township dog catcher about a rooster?  Can you even have fowl in town?  Is there a fowl department at the town office?

I almost solved the problem earlier this summer...

Cock-a-Doodles came to my house to visit.  He must have got directions from the Turkeys.  I found him wandering around the pool patio.

I sent Boy to chase him away.

Boy offered to shoot him.

And I paused.  for awhile.   before I said "I think shooting roosters in town is frowned upon."

This morning I regretted that decision.  Cocky little bugger.

Boy the Plowman

Boy fixed up this tractor last summer.  It's a 1950-something Massey 33.  This summer he took on finding and fixing an old plow from the same era.

He had a harder time with it than planned as one of the shop boys backed over it and broke some essential parts.  Turns out those parts are next to impossible to replace.  We know because the shop boy and my Boy looked for months.  

Boy is also a kijiji addict.  He found a "newer" model of the same plow type on the site, bought it and modified it to fit his plow.  

His goal all along was to take his tractor in the County Plowing match, that was, coincidently to be held on the farm of friends of ours. ( Friends with a real farm, not a big lawn that her boys pretend is a farm so they can buy equipment...)

Boy finished his plow 2 days before the competition, did a practice run to make sure it would stay together, then declared himself fit to compete.  

I was at Girl's horse show so I didn't get to watch, but my friend L sent me these pictures, and Boy gave me details when he got home.

Turns out there were lots of friendly folks to give advice and help out.  DH "coached" and Boy ploughed.  He told me that as long as he didn't come last anything else would be as good as first.  Turns out he did place and got a cheque to prove it.  He claims he's now a "professional" because he's been paid for his "sport."

I told him that he ought to hand that cheque over to his dad for gas and parts, but Boy had an answer for that.  He told me that his dad is now his "sponsor" and he is seeking others to do the same....

When I showed him the pictures that L took, I asked him if he knew she was photographing him.  He said, "no, but it's cool that I've got paparazzi."

Good thing it's a big tractor.  It's needed to support his head.

I love this quote.  I found it on Pinterest, and I don't know where it originated or from whom.  It might be my new mantra at home and at school.  Looo-ve it (say it like Oprah).  I think it will cut down on my stress level significantly....

"Your unpreparedness is not my emergency."

 Beautiful!

Hollywood Treasure

This is Girl at the Saddle Club horse show this weekend.  She is riding a new pony this year named Hollywood Treasure.  His barn name is just Treasure, but there are many (myself included) that just refer to him as Trouble.

Because he is.

Trouble.

He is just a young guy, only 5 years old, and just learning.... everything.  Everything, including manners.  He likes to nip or bite and his favourite trick is to step on your toes.  You have to watch every end of him.  Girl takes it in stride, gives him a wee pop on the nose if he bites and continues on about his care as if nothing ever happened.

Me, I wallow in my resentment if he has forgotten his etiquette.  I wonder, often out loud in a very un-cowboy way, "why am I sponging your nether regions when you've just tried to take a chunk of my butt?"  and "why am I rubbing sunscreen on the bald patch by your tail when you've just stomped your hoof by my toes?"

Sometimes I also wonder things like "why am I picking up Trouble's poop while Girl goes to the refreshment booth?"

Girl is the elegant rider, the competitive gamer, the glamorous horsewoman, and I, I am the dust covered, sun burnt, poop-spotted, lowly groom -- who cheers out loud and walks proud when Girl and Treasure ride out of the ring.

oh my...

Oh my.

Oh my.

I have seen a TV show that has left my mouth agape and my head a shakin'.

I think it's like watching a train wreck.  I am appalled, but can't look away.

The kids DVR'd a show called "Honey Boo Boo" and watched it back tonight.  I was in the office and could hear the TV and the kids laughing.  I had to go watch 'cause I couldn't even believe what I was hearing.  It's a red neck show.  And the sad part it I think it is real.

The line that got me (from mama) ... "them dang youngun's done gone and cut thar toenails in m' dang bed."

Really?

This is TV.

Oh my.

20 Years!

Today is my 20th anniversary.

20 YEARS!

I was a baby when I got married.  Really.  Only 21.  I didn't know anything then except that DH was THE one.  He still is.

Funny story.

I was still in university and DH often came down to visit and to get me out of dorm-room hell.  We went to a jewelry store to get a silver tea set for his parent' anniversary (really for his mom -- I'm sure Pops didn't care about a tea set....).  While we were waiting for it to be polished and wrapped we were leaning on the jewelry counter.  Immediately beneath us were engagement rings.  Good marketing, that.

I was looking at them, apparently DH was too because he said in the most romantic way possible "so, do you wanta do it?"  I knew what he meant, said "sure, if you're serious."  He was.  We picked out a ring and lived happily (most of the time) ever after.  The end.