The Round Pen

Onward!

2011-03-13T15:36:00.003-05:00

I shall not beat up on myself for not posting.
I shall not beat up on myself for not posting.
I shall not beat up on myself for not posting.
etc.
etc.
I really do love my new laptop, tho! :)

Actually, I was a bit down-for-the-count with dental problems so there is my excuse. It was quite awful, actually. Why is it that a person can zip merrily along for 40-some years with merely a cavity here and there...and then it all goes to shit and teeth are crumbling, there are root canals, crowns, and gum surgeries to be had all at once! It cost a fortune and I can still only chew on one side of my mouth. I sort of feel like I should blend all of my food in case something else decides to crack. Oh ya and PS: I am starving.

I do have some excitement to announce, stunningly. I realize I am quite often the downer, but this past winter has been such a fucking pile of shit, honestly. Oh yes, folks always say how THE FIRST YEAR IS THE HARDEST...as if there was a magical pixie dust that sprinkled about on that first anniversary of OMGMYHUSBANDDIEDINANACCIDENT and suddenly, I felt all normal and right and wondered what the hell that little blip was...hmmmm?

It isn't so. Just trust me on that.

I found the the first year really hard, yes. This second year, well, it was just fucking hell. Year Two: The year I found my groove as single homeowner, drank like a fish, watched a shitload of Netflix movies, and wondered if this is all I am going to do for the rest of my life. Hi, my name is walktrotcanter. I live like a drunken hermit, can clear a driveway like a 6-foot man, mow whimsical patterns in my lawn, and am a preferred Netflix customer. Nice to meet you.

But there is good news! Really!

I was invited to go for a weekend with my trainer (and friend!) to take a dressage clinic next month. My trainer takes lessons from this clinician every time he is in the area and my fellow riders and I often make the trek southward watch her lessons. But ME? Riding? With HIM?? Holy cats, to me this is sort of like making the cheer-leading team! (Or, there is some hope that I won't embarrass anyone (trainer) in public. On my horse!) The best part is that it is the same weekend as the anniversary of OMGMYHUSBANDDIEDINANACCIDENT. Is that good timing or what...why not just go away and ride a horse. Perfect!

So, there is lots of prep to do:

What to wear?? (This is a big one and will involve much parading around my room in various equestrian ensembles)
Do I need new boots?
Pray that my horse sheds out that awful coat... :)
Do I need new saddle pads?

Maybe this is a bit of light at the end of this black tunnel of doom that has been this past year.

And maybe, just maybe, it will kick off Year 3 with a smile.

Jaws

2011-02-24T20:23:00.002-06:00

I know I promised to write...but wow, lots of dental problems this past week. I can't talk, nor can I type! I did try to ride my horse last night but had to quit when my jaw started to throb. This all sucks big time...wtf happens to our teeth in old age? I am posting this so I post...will be back this weekend when things hopefully stop swelling and throbbing. (Ya, know that sounds really exciting...sadly, it is just all things boringly dental.)

Other than dental issues, it has been an ok week. It is so nice to be busy and very nice that Spring is (sort of, except for the expected snowstorm tonight, GAH!!!!) just around the corner.

Stay warm...off to gargle once again :(

I used to rule the world

2011-02-20T19:03:00.005-06:00

During the madness of Christmas shopping, I happened to see this couple in one of the stores. They were about my age, dressed in work clothes, and obviously trying to knock out some gift shopping after work. The guy was sort of wandering about, looking at things and going along with the very list-oriented wife. She was so me, at least me as I was in my former life...guided only by the task at-hand, no fussing about, Let's get this done because we have other things to do! She kept telling the husband to hurry up, NO we are NOT looking at those, we need to find a gift for the 6-yr old, and on and on... It was like watching a playback of myself and honestly, I wanted to just take her aside and tell her to slow the fuck down and relax.

Twenty-four years ago, I was a student-for-a-semester in The West of Ireland. That semester is when I met H. My H, you know, the H who hauled us to the Motel 6, the H who engineered ProjectHouseFromHell, the H who was the workaholic and lover of Friday night cocktails and volunteering and collector of all things bargain.

He had grown up in the small village where I was staying. He had never been out of the country. The largest city he had ever seen was Dublin. He was a carpenter, a guy who could put you at ease with his bright blue eyes, his dry humor, and his gentle confidence. We met and were engaged within 6 weeks during that Semester-in-The-West-of-Ireland. We were married three months later. Our parents were freaking out, our friends were telling us we were crazy.

It was hardly all rosy and lovey-dovey and happiness all the time. We were pretty normal. We were broke much of the time and we had our battles and we could not have children, which broke H's heart. There was a constant pull from his family for him to "come home"...this as we were trying to build our own life as a couple here in the States. In all, though, H was a great guy. He was patient and sweet and he tried so very hard to make everyone he met feel happy and comfortable. As a husband he was fun and difficult and smart and bossy and sweet and challenging...and all things a best friend is supposed to be.

It is so very true that you really don't know what you have until it is gone. And then you beat the crap out of yourself when you think of all of the things you should have noticed or should have been more thankful for. I could be awfully hard on H, much like the woman I saw in the store that day. Maybe it is just part of being a wife, that familiarity that once we get this checked off of the list we will move on to the next thing we have planned. It was where I was then...that was only honest. Don't we all bitch and piss and moan about footprints on our clean floor or how come I never get flowers or what do you mean you spent money on THAT? It is when the plan is all blown to bits that you stop and wonder how come you were so anal-retentive about it all. It is so easy to look at another couple and judge and be all about what they are doing wrong.

If there is anything good to gain from my last couple of years it is a new awareness, or a different perspective on what I used to have and how I used to be. Without being too hard on myself or feeling guilty or going crazy with regret. That is really, really hard. A girl is just a girl, after all. I think we all just try to be ourselves when we are going along. (Seriously, there is no sign that tells us, YOU ARE SO GONNA BE FUCKED!, now is there?) And so this girl is just hanging-in and hoping I did the very best I could have done.

Missing you, H!

A Brief Study of Fear, WTC Edition

2011-02-17T15:27:00.003-06:00

I have this awful problem, at times, of being a huge chicken. Often, it arrives when I am riding a horse. Riding is something I love to do and WANT to do, but there are times I suddenly have fear that sort of comes out of nowhere. Maybe it is just inexperience...it is really difficult to learn to ride and learn horsemanship as an adult. The adult mind, you see, has a fantastic sense of everything that can go wrong in a particular scenario. And it can make you nuts.

We have this new cat at the barn. (I am not going to go into what happened to Previous Cat...it is a bit awful even for a non-cat-person such as myself and let’s just say it involved a coyote.) So New Cat is just learning the lay of the land. The indoor arena where we ride has boards that go up the walls about half way and there are big mirrors the rest of the way up. (So folks like me can see how cool we look on a horse and smile about how we can’t believe we actually HAVE OUR OWN to ride! WOOP!) The board area has a hollow space behind it to account for the studs or whatever they are called that hold up the whole building. In short, there is a space in the wall...and as New Cat was exploring and meow-ing at herself in the mirrors, she popped down into the space last night as I was getting on my horse. Only I didn’t see where she went down and my friend who was riding with me would not tell me where she was.

As you can only imagine, my little overworked and over-tired brain went all into overdrive as we circled and figure-eighted around the arena. I just knew that cat was going to come flying out from the wall the instant I circled past A or C. Or M. Logically, there is probably no way the cat could even get enough oomph to spring itself up and out of the wall with the velocity I visualized, even if it wanted to. However, I just knew it would pop up with a loud screech and spook the bejesus out of both me and my horse. We would all die and there would be no one to take care of my dogs. (Oh, and I probably forgot to wipe the kitchen counter so please ignore what a slob I was when you hold the after-funeral vigil and customary clean-out of the closets and drawers of my house.) Now, while my horse is more on the alert side, he is really quite a steady fellow. While he does spook at times, he is not naughty about it. More than anything, it should encourage me to keep him focused on the job at hand. It is hard to focus on the job at hand, however, when one is expecting a cat to fly out of the wall at any second. See what I mean about my awful fear problem?

I don’t really know where I am going with this...as there is no end to this particular cat story. New Cat did not, as I nervously anticipated, spring out of the wall with enough wow to spook us. The cat did not even re-appear the entire time I was at the barn. My thought is that perhaps just writing this down will become a lesson which reminds me to slowthehelldown and stop the worrying and pre-planning and anticipation as far as what will or will not happen with my horse. To sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride, wipe my counters before I leave the house, and quit being such a freak.

So, about that horse...

2011-02-12T16:44:00.003-06:00

While riding today, I tried to make a little list of things to write about my horse. Before owning a horse of my own, I never realized how much time it takes to get to know a horse...like really KNOW him. I was and am very fortunate to board my horse at a private facility...the owner of the place built an indoor with a few stalls and her sister runs a small training business out of the barn. They are selective about who boards there...and there are only a few folks lucky enough to make the cut :) Anyway, everyone there is absolutely the best. No drama, no crap...everyone just loves her horse and wants to have fun and support friends. For me personally, I could not have ended up in a better situation.

I bought my horse 3 weeks before my husband was killed in an accident. The economy was tanking, H was not working much, we were low on money, and of course I had found the absolutely, no questions asked, most perfect boy. It was a bad scene here at the house...lots of CONVINCING and PROMISING and OMGHEISTHEBESTBOYEVERSOPLEEEEEZEEE! I should have been a lawyer. At any rate, I got a great deal on a very nice horse. I was thrilled and ready to prepare for the Olympics.

If you are a horse person or even an animal person, you certainly know how animals have such a keen sense of what is going on around them. Horses, especially, since they are animals of prey. Anything and everything that is different is suspect. So, imagine if you will, my poor boy arriving at a new barn with a super-excited girl all ready to bond and ride and have such a blast. YAY!! Life will be sooooo much fun!!! WOOP! ***Then, the Big Event happens.*** Life is thrown into a huge mess, super-excited girl is suddenly Girl Who Carries Around a Ton of Shit and Emotion. Whoa, what the hell happened?

Honestly, I would go to the barn all ready to spillmygutstoflickabondwithmybestfriend...all of that bullshit you read and see in the movies. My poor 3-weeks new horse was all, WTFHUHWAITTHEREISSOMETHINGNOTRIGHTHERE. It was nuts. I was nuts. It wasn't at all like the movies and he had no interest in bonding with a freak like me. It was really just awful and frustrating and so hard on my horse...who was just an innocent part of the whole scenario.

After one particularly awful day, I emailed my trainer. I told her how I was thinking this would not work and I probably needed to just put the horse in training or something because there was no way I could make it work. I was all, "I know I can get this solved if I do A., B., and C."

You know, sometimes you need someone to sort of kick you in the pants and tell you how it is. My friend and trainer did just that. Her words were something like, "he is only reacting to you. Let him get to know you as you work through this traumatic event that has just happened to you. It will come, just give it time. He will let you know when he doesn't feel confident around you. And you will let him know, in time, that you are the leader he needs and wants to follow."

So, when I want to make a list of things to share about my horse, I like to think about the progression that has gone on in the last year and a half. I like to note that I can walk out to the pasture and see him look up and know who I am...and sometimes even walk to me (if there isn't much grass to eat!), I like to think that when he spooks or looks around a bit from some outside noise he is learning to also look to me and know he is ok. It isn't perfect and I still carry a shitload of baggage to him at times. But he indeed lets me know. And thankfully, I am at a place where I can recognize it and learn if my reaction is one that keeps us moving forward.

Needs Leather Therapy. Or something like that.

2011-02-09T20:12:00.000-06:00

After a brief (!!) hiatus I am back in the saddle. Again. To be honest, at the moment it doesn’t feel very broken-in or comfy or homey. In fact, I had to dust off the furniture in here and open a window for some fresh air. I am looking at some new paint colors as these seem very 2009, don’t you agree? It had been so long since my last post I had to dig through the files to remember my username and password. Yikes. The thing is, I sort of missed jotting down little blurbs...but it seemed that soooooo many little blurbs were happening with my *new* life (fml) it was too hard to actually get them organized into intelligent blurbs! All of my faithful readers would have been driven nutsy and that would have been more of a disaster than just not writing. Ya, I know, that makes sense. Anyway, I recently (this past week) purchased a new laptop. The reason for the new laptop was that my old one was dying a slow death. The justification for the new laptop was this: You have to start writing.

So let’s begin, shall we...

First, a few housekeeping items:
1) I do indeed still have my horse. I bought him, in a twist of fate, just 3 weeks before H died. He is wonderful and patient and silly and the best teacher I could have found for all things about how to keep going in this crazy life.
2) I live-in and plan to stay-in the house H built 6 years ago...which is really why I started this blog in the first place. ( Remember the Motel 6 anyone??) All of these years later, I am now a pro at lawn-mowing, weed-whacking, snow-blowing, edging, and hauling garbage cans...in addition to knashing teeth, cussing out various gas-powered yard tools, and annihilating nests of wasps. In other words, I fucking rock at home-ownership. Who knew?
3) Speaking of ownership, I sold the cottage H & I owned. So, I no longer own that...Hey, I am not Wonderwoman.
3) In addition to my horse, I also have 2 toy poodles.
4) I still enjoy my cocktails and a good laugh so some things haven’t changed much after all. :)

UpdateAllAtOnce!

2009-10-24T20:09:00.002-05:00

Well, obviously, the summer kind of flew on by. I sat and watched...and participated on this odd kind of level. It is hard to describe, honestly. It is as if I sat and watched and just tried to get through it. No, that isn't it. I DID get through it! I did a lot! But I still sat and watched. A bit of a blur, A lot of work, but I did it! I really tried to write about it. Below are some emails sent to a friend who was watching from afar...

Early July: Lawnmowing
On Friday, the lawnmower and I had a big argument...so getting the lawn together was a bit of an event. H was very handy with tools; however, he was not so handy with small engines and had a very bad habit of hanging on to small engines that didn't work. Thus, the lawn tractor, push mower, grass blower, and weed-whacker have all had to be discarded, fixed by my trusty male co-workers, or simply smashed to the driveway by one angry and frustrated widow in the past couple of months. I thought I had the lawnmower fixed but of course it decided to leak gasoline and not start on the day I really needed it to do its job! I ended up borrowing a mower from a neighbor...and I finally just bought a new push mower yesterday. What is the saying..."These are the times that try men's souls" or something like that. So very true these days. I would have to say that getting used to and learning how to do all of the things I never had to do around the house is much harder even than losing H in the first place. I have these neighbors who live behind me...they are very nice folks and all, but they are still in the "ARE YOU OK WALKTROTCANTER, WE ARE SOOOOO SORRY!" phase. (They really do speak in all caps!) Anyway, while it is very healthy to grieve and accept sympathy, I am kind of at the point where I really need someone to, for instance, help me start the mower or tell me where I can get rid of the 1,000 gallons of wood stain H had stored in the garage. Or the 8 gazillion power tools in the basement…Do you know what I mean? I hate to sound like the bitch, but it honestly is kind of overwhelming the amount of stuff I have to do that I really don’t know how to do or where to start. Luckily I have a sense of humor about most of it and can only chuckle at how I hauled 3 table saws down the basement stairs so I could put them in the *power tool* section of my organizing regime. Life will get better!

July: Note to self
I don't exactly feel like a star; rather, a survivor of some very unrealistic nightmare that just won't end. You know how in cartoons the characters start running and their legs go blurry in a big circle from the momentum? That's how it feels, like my life and what I have to do is high gear all the time, if that makes any sense. I suppose it is all a part of the process (or whateverthehell), but it does really wear on a girl at times. You just want to be normal again.

August: Things break!
Yesterday when I went home for lunch, I could not get my door opened. The lock mechanism was messed up or something terribly confusing like that. Anyway, I had to take the doorknob off and pry the thing apart. I ended up taking the entire shebang to the hardware store and getting a whole new doorknob and lock. The best part of all was that I installed that thing MYSELF! How's that for 40-something woman power? I rock.

Bees Part I
I discovered a bit of a bee problem at the front of the house. It is a nest of yellow jackets. It is a really tricky spot they found, (kind of well-back in the flowers) and you have to spray either at dusk or early morning or they will swarm you. I am TERRIFIED! Yesterday I bought 2 cans of spray and tried to spray the spot from the 2nd story window instead of standing next to the entrance to the nest. I probably looked like a doofus hanging out the window...LOL I sprayed both cans and was all proud of my brave self. Then this morning there are still a bunch of bees...so I think I will have to do the *stand next to the nest* bit. ARGH!

Bees Part II
As for my bees, it was naturally, a bit of an adventure. After hanging out the window to try to spray them, they were back the next day in full-force. I bought 2 more cans of spray and, after several bravery-inducing cocktails, a friend and I ventured near the hole and sprayed the living crap out of them. The hole was brimming with the stuff...it was quite exciting. We toasted and played cards to celebrate our victory. Believe it or not, the next morning there were STILL EFFING BEES flying about! Not only did I have a slight hangover, I still had a slight bee problem! Amazing. Off I trekked to the hardware store for cans 5 & 6 of toxic bee killer. Once again at dusk I emptied 2 cans into the entrance of the nest. BINGO. Mission Accomplished. One more notch in my belt of HowToBeASingleHomeowner.

September: The arrival of the TimeCutter Z!
Yesterday I had to mow that lawn again...I swear, the grass is on steroids. My neighbor bought a zero-turn mower last summer and he let me try it out as I am thinking of buying one to compliment the new push mower I purchased earlier in the summer. Right now I use a tractor for the larger areas and the push mower around the trees. A zero-turn would cut the mowing time quite a lot and is a nice, zippy machine. It kind of rides like a go-cart! I was flying around the yard on the thing, the neighbor was cracking up. They are quite pricey (and I am quite cheap!), but at this point I want to stay in the house and I can't be such a freak about the damn grass. I think it would pay itself off rather quickly in mental health if nothing else. Stay tuned.

Enough with the dicking around...a Toro TimeCutterZ 21-horsepower zero-turn mower is being delivered today! *Greg* at the dealer gave me quite a deal, despite the fact that he distinctly remembered H yelling at him earlier this year when H took the tractor in for a service. Sadly, the widow card trumps nearly every situation...tho I only use it when I am in dire straits as was the situation here. Anyway, *Greg* is also picking up the pokey little tractor so there will be plenty of room in the garage for the TIMECUTTER Z!!! I will be a hot mowin mamma now...everyone had better just stand back! I should have to mow again later this week...will give the full report on the maiden voyage, of course.

I neglected to mention one very important feature of the Toro TimeCutterZ...it has a CUPHOLDER!!!!! Cocktails on the TimeCutter!!! Tho with 21 horses underneath you, am not sure if one wants to get too crazy. The neighbor, came over to see the new beast. He said he is feeling like slightly less of a man since his only has 16 hp and now he will be blown away by the lady next door with 21!! We are planning a big *mowing race* on Friday afternoon. There is a big strip of grass that we share and we have decided to open 'em up and may the best Toro win!! Am thinking it may be time to get that barbed-wire tattoo on my bicep...you know, just for effect.

Who knew I would ever find lawnmowing fun??? (Actually, I was a bit sad the other night as I was zooming around the yard...H would have absolutely LOVED the sleekness and speed and fun of the new TimeCutter Z, not to mention the catchy name! Now I am kind of sorry I always put the kabosh on getting one when he talked about it. I am quite certain, tho, he is right there with me. Most likely cussing me out and telling me to slow the hell down. LOL)

Well...I CUT THE LAWN!!! The TimeCutterZ is officially dirty! YEA!!!! That thing is a monster!! I felt like I was a drunk driver at first (and there wasn't even anything in the cupholder!!) because it is a bit wacky to steer at first. Took a bit of getting-used-to, but after a while I was zooming along quite nicely. I only took a slight nick out of the corner of the deck but no plants were mowed down and I didn't end up in the neighboring cornfield so I will consider the maiden voyage a success. Plus, the entire lawn took less than an hour, can you believe that?? By the time I get used to the thing, I should be able to knock it all out in 30 minutes. Honestly, I felt like I needed a cigarette after I was all finished...LOL.

This morning dawned with yet another household issue...the smoke alarm was beeping b/c the battery was low. Now, as a side note, I want to assure you that I did not just sit around on my fat American ass and eat bon bons while H did all of the work. In most instances, I was assisting in some way...such as holding the tools, cleaning up with the shop vac, or sent on very important missions like finding a phillips head screwdriver in the basement. In essence, I was the laborer, he was the professional. Thus, I did not normally pay 100% attention to how he was doing things...I was too busy getting orders fired at me..."Put down your drink woman and hold this here!", or, "by the time you finish your cocktail this will be dry...so pour one for me as well!". I did learn bits and pieces, but not nearly as much as I should have. As such, the smoke alarm battery, which seemed like a rather simple fix despite my limited knowledge, turned into WTC in her pj's on her tippy-toes on a barstool screaming "CLOSE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" to the little battery compartment that would not click into place as the thing chirped into my ears at 6:10 am. Lesson # 987: Pay attention to the pros while you have the chance. Learn from them!

...and those were just the highlights. Imagine!

This all really sucks. No two ways about that. It kind of feels like everything changed to a different color the day H died. It is hard to describe. I think it was C.S. Lewis who said, "No one ever told me that grief would be like fear." That pretty much sums it up. You don't know what is out there or where you are going to go. And most of all, you wish you could talk about all of it with your best friend.

On Tools and Tears

2009-08-07T10:06:00.002-05:00

During the winter, H was off work quite a bit due to the economy. To him this meant, “WOO HOO WTC, let’s see if I can gather enough of my scraps and free stuff I’ve collected and finish the family room in the basement!” It was a thrill ride for him, to piece together bits of this and that and transform them a wonderful space. He was truly an artist, a craftsman like no other. He just loved to build things. For the most part, we worked quite well together…I helped come up with ideas, and he created. Despite my constant nagging about the mess he inevitably made, I always felt rather lucky that I pretty much got what I envisioned at a pretty nominal price, no less. The basement was in full construction-from-scrap mode when H died. He had wired and insulated and plumbed and had convinced me we really needed a load of drywall. It was going to be his video game oasis, complete with surround sound and a wet bar. He was so excited, his eyes would light up as he discussed speaker placement, an exhaust fan (in case we popped popcorn), and the pocket doors he got for a steal 3 years ago that would finally be put to perfect use.

A friend of mine was over a few weeks ago to help me with some odd jobs around the house. I showed him the basement…and my conundrum as far as how to get a handle on the mass of building materials and the project that had come to a complete halt. He was amazed at the amount of stuff H had assembled. And a few hours later, he said, “WTC, how about I help you get this in some kind of order.” I immediately burst into tears of relief. We popped a bottle of wine and got to work.

You know, it is only a true friend who will give you your moments and pour you more wine when you start to sob over a hammer or crumble at the sight of the router you bought for your husband’s 35th birthday. It was tough going, that basement. Tougher even than the clothes closet or the toothbrush or the photos tucked in drawers that momentarily stun me when I am innocently searching for the aspirin bottle. The tools and the building supplies H got for a steal or bargained-for-because-“we’ll use it somewhere!” were really what made H tick. And it was all so overwhelming to know it is all over and there will be no more delighted presentations on how THIS will piece together with THAT to make THIS COOL THING, HOW ABOUT THAT WTC!. It sucks, it really does. However, the basement is now looking a bit like a hardware store…with a tool section, a building supplies area, and many, many nails and screws. To confirm what H knew and I didn’t believe, there is enough stuff to finish a very stylish and comfy family room. Who knows, I may just do that :)

The Thank You Note Project

2009-07-10T10:55:00.003-05:00

When H died, there were a ton of cards and flowers and donations to his favorite charity…it was quite overwhelming to realize how many people knew and loved him. As part of the funeral home’s *package deal*, I received an unlimited number of thank-you cards…which is kind of nice when you have a gazillion or so notes to send. (Sadly, they do not include postage in the deal…maybe that comes with the Premium Package.) Anyway, I made a sort of a routine to write at least 10 cards per night. To make things easier, I also wrote down 5 or so stock phrases to use in the various cards:

“Thank you so much for your donation in H’s memory. He would be so honored.”

Or

“H always enjoyed working with you. He spoke so highly of you and your family”

Then I personalized the phrases as I wrote each note:

“Thank you so much for your donation in H’s memory. He would be so honored to know you were not a cheapskate after all…er, to know his volunteer work will continue to make a difference.”

“H always enjoyed working with you. He spoke so highly of you and your family and we often laughed when we visualized the stories you told of you and your wife ballroom dancing…er, I felt like I knew you as a friend as well.”

I am so bad.

While it was a huge task, it was kind of nice to have the mission each evening to get thru my minimum of 10 cards and then try to see if I could do 3 or 4 more. (That’s me, the gambling woman…) I had to put aside several sympathy cards as they had no return address and the signatures read something like “So very sorry for your loss, your H was such a great guy… The Omraoehrenrerhaehrjheka Family”. Sadly, these cards usually held money. Please people, write legibly! Use return address labels!

The last and final card I wrote was to a colleague of my brother’s. My brother happens to work with someone who is very famous. The very famous someone sent flowers to the funeral home, along with a generous donation. Do you know how hard it is to sit down and write a thank-you to Mr. FamousGuy? Oddly, the most difficult part is whether to address them by name or as Mr. Famous. After mulling it over for a few moments and then realizing Mr. Famous is about 6 years younger than me, I made the executive decision to address him by his first name.

“Dear Joe,”

“Thank you so much for the lovely flowers and generous donation in H’s memory.”

I then decided not to go all fan mail on him and simply told him how much my family appreciated the kind thoughts…

“The kind thoughts and sympathy from friends and colleagues has meant so much to my family.”

I then closed with a reminder of who I was…I was kind of worried he would be all “WalkTrotCanter???, who is this wacko, WHAT FLOWERS??”

“Thank you again, WalkTrotCanter (Sister of your co-worker, do you know who I am??? I am not a fan, just a gal sending a thank-you card...)

Some Notes on Pain and Suffering and Yardwork

2009-06-29T11:50:00.002-05:00

This past weekend was once again Yardwork 101. I got sick of waiting for people who promised to help me so I just took the bull by the horns. (People really DO want to help; however, it isn’t like I can nag at them as I would to H to get started, time’s a wastin’…so the helping gets done on their time, you know?) Anyway, I wanted the grass blown off of the drive and I wanted the weed-whacking done…things I KNEW I could do, I just was a bit unsure about how to use the necessary tools. One new blower and one OMGmyarmisoutofthesocket weedwhacker later, I am almost a pro. As with much of the stuff I didn’t know how to do, I think it is pure anger and frustration that is getting me to learn. Oh ya, and the self-propelled mower has a hard time going from 1st gear to Neutral. Just in case you see me chasing that f-ing thing around the yard…

In other news, I got a call from my Prius-driving attorney, Leo. H was killed in an on-the-job accident, you see, and this means all sorts of insurance liability stuff that I really don’t care to understand at this time. In brief, companies carry liability insurance in case there is a catastrophic accident on the job. When said catastrophic accident happens to occur, the liability insurance company does everything in its power to find a way to not have to pay the amount of insurance that covers the liability for the catastrophic accident. It is like a game that is played and the object of the game is, of course, money. While I don’t care so much about money in the sense that no amount is going to bring back my old and comfortable life, I was advised by several close friends that this is just a part of the deal with the type of accident that killed H and it is best to be prepared and ready for when the liability game begins. In H’s case, I hired Leo to deal with all of this. Otherwise, I alone would be taking on the non-liability paying folks…and that, from what I understand, is even more difficult than starting that weed-whacker.

So anyway, Leo phoned me while I was in the midst of my yardwork session. He proceeded to explain to me the status of the situation. Surprisingly (!!), the liability insurance company is squawking about how there is absolutely no liability issue in this case. Leo graciously spared me the gory details; however, he did explain that the rhetoric has become a bit heated as to the extent of the pain and suffering I am going through as a result of losing H. Not so much, according to them. I asked Leo if those hot shot liability folks would like to come to watch my yardwork extravaganza just to get a glimpse of how the pain and suffering is going here in WalkTrotCanterLand. Leo, in his serious attorney-voice, assured me this is all pretty standard at the beginning of this type of negotiating. I thanked him for the update, hung up the phone, promptly burst into tears, and poured myself a liability cocktail. GAH, how do those folks sleep at night, I wonder…what a strange world we live in.

Somebody up there likes me...sort of

2009-06-19T08:18:00.002-05:00

H had this red GMC truck that we bought from one of his co-workers about a million years ago. It was over 20 years old. After me (!!), it was the love of is life. I think I only drove it once or twice…it really was H’s ride. It had a manual transmission…I think that is why H liked it so much. It was simple and easy to maneuver. Plus, I think he felt really AMERICAN in that thing. Our dogs used to go crazy when they would hear the truck pull into the drive. The whole sound of him gearing down with his country music blaring always sent them into complete poodle frenzy mode. The truck had never been cleaned, in true H fashion. The paint was fading, the cab was full of boots and tools and Carhart jackets, and he often referred to it as The Office.

I work with a guy who loves engines and trucks and all things grease, so I asked him if he would want The Truck. Somehow, it just didn’t seem right to haul it to a junkyard or sell it to just anyone. That Truck was almost a part of our family. I told the guy that if he would take care of, and enjoy it, I would happily sell it to him for one dollar. He was thrilled.

In our household, I always took care of all of the bills and insurances and paperwork. H had little interest in filing and keeping track unless it involved things in drywall buckets. I have this highly-organized filing system that consists of a big filing cabinet full of papers. A few years ago, I got all sophisticated and put the papers in piles that make sense. Anyway, I searched my trusty filing cabinet for the title to The Truck but it was nowhere to be found. I searched again and again and could not find one bit of information on that vehicle. I found the loan papers from the 1985 Dodge Colt, the 1988 Mercury Topaz, the 2 GMC Jimmy’s, the Mitsubishi Outlander…but absolutely nothing on The Truck. And the more I searched the madder and more frustrated I became. Literally, by the time I looked One. Last. Time. and decided to give up and go to bed, I was in full-rage mode. Meltdown City. The f-bombs were dropping, I was crying and stomping around and yelling…the dogs just sat there and stared at me. It was not a pretty sight.

It is hard to brush your teeth when you are crying. It is doubly-awful to watch yourself cry while you try to brush your teeth. Sometimes it makes you cry harder and then you just feel like complete shit. I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed, even more of a sobbing and angry mess. For some odd reason, I peeked into H’s closet. There, on the shelf by his shirts, was a Wal-Mart bag. It was kind of sticking out, and I had not seen it in the many times I had been in his closet in the past few weeks. Wal-Mart has always been my LEAST favorite place in the whole world. I just detest the whole scene…H used to shudder when I would stop there for groceries and come home with my 8 zillion little plastic bags and a lot of swear words and grumbling about people in scooters with few teeth. Much to my amazement, inside this Wal-Mart bag that I had not seen before sticking out of the shelf by his shirts, was all of the paperwork for The Red Truck, including the title. H must have been beside himself laughing, the goof. That was so his sense of humor. Ha Ha, Ya, thanks buddy :) Guess he was just making sure I found that truck a fabulous new home.

It's just stuff to me but at least it makes me smile :)

2009-06-16T15:11:00.006-05:00

When I was in college, I had a roommate who lost her father our freshman year. The guy had been the baseball coach at the high school in her small town. He was extremely popular, good-looking, friendly, and had the all-American family…3 good looking and well-mannered kids, a lovely wife, etc. During our first semester at school, he died suddenly of an aneurysm.

Three years later, my friend invited a group of us back to her hometown for a weekend. I can still remember feeling…I don’t know, creeped out, I guess, in my 19 year old way, at how everything in the house was exactly as it had been the moment he passed away. Exactly as it had been, with the addition of a large table that had been made into a sort of shrine to the man with pictures, trophies, and medals from his coaching successes. The lovely all-American family who once came home to this place, had stopped, it seemed. My friend’s mother walked around all ghostly and quiet…and it all just seemed so very, very sad.
~~~
Grief is such a strange emotion…or bunch of emotions. There are no rules or guidelines to follow to make things straightforward and easy. I was talking with my mother a day or so after H died, and she said to me, “You will want to make this YOUR house over time, you know, and that will be ok.”
~~~
I am a cleaner-outer. I like simple, clean lines and clutter makes my brain go into high stress OMGWTF mode. H, on the other hand, was a hoarder. LOL He knew there was a use for everything if you just stacked it, put it in a bucket with 100 other everythings, or hid it in oh, say, the alcove under the basement stairs. He was also the true Boy Scout, always prepared for the latest crisis. Which is why both of our snowblowers were filled to the brim with gasoline on the warm, rainy day in the middle of April when he passed away.

And so the Cleaning Out has been going-on in the last few weeks. No big surprises, it is all pretty much classic H with many drawers full of this and lots of drywall buckets full of that. It is kind of an odd job, especially since he was gone so quickly he didn’t have time to let me know about the $90 he had stashed between his t-shirts. He also didn’t have time to get rid of the lawnmower, leaf blower, and weed whacker that don’t work. He did, however, seem to have plenty of time to purchase and store under the stairs no less than 4 table saws, 10 nail guns, 2 air compressors, 7 cordless drills, a plastic storage bin filled to the brim with switch plates, and numerous other items I have not yet inventoried. Further, the day before his accident, he had gleefully brought home a sink and toilet to be used at our cottage. He had unloaded them into the garage right next to the door to the house. This, I suppose, is so that with equal glee he could strategically position himself on the toilet with a newspaper when I drove up the driveway on my lunch hour. Sadly, the sink/toilet have not moved from their original spot. Guests think I have a garage-potty thing going on, which makes that visual of H on the jon ever more amusing. That alone makes it all worthwhile even if it costs me $90 to have someone haul the bulk of the stuff away.

On life after the Life Insurance

2009-06-10T11:07:00.002-05:00

I was rifling thru some old posts on this blog the other day. It was a bit of a trip down memory lane. Yipes, those old Motel 6 days! It all seems so dramatic! Things thankfully settled down a bit once we were moved and settled into the new homestead. I guess that’s why it is called Home and places like the Motel 6 make a girl nuts. Anyway, I had to chuckle at this post. I completely remember that evening and so did my State Farm Agent. The State Farm Agent who, like a good neighbor, did not let us settle on H’s measly sum for life insurance.

Whew.

So, a few days after H’s accident, I had to meet with our Good Neighbor to go over all of the *stuff*. The poor guy, I have known him since I was 10 (small town), he was crying and so was his adorable wife who works with him in the office. (Side note: I highly recommend going with a trusted person on matters of insurance. Yes, it is indeed cheaper online or whatever; however, when the shit hits the fan, do you want to be calling 1-800-FILEACLAIM? You don’t. Trust me on that. You really DO want them crying with you.) As a result of our heeding the trusted advice of our agent, I received a fairly healthy amount of money as H’s beneficiary. It was put into a special checking account which I have aptly named the OMGMYHUSBANDDIEDINANACCIDENT Fund.

Just about anyone who knew H or us or read this blog would so know how much of a money miser H was. He was brutal at times which, after living with him for 22 years, made me somewhat hesitant to spend any amount of money without mulling it over, asking myself if I REALLY NEEDED the item/service, mulling it over again, and then discussing pros and cons of the issue over cocktails. The whole thing got to be like a badge of honor…to have made the proper DECISION. Good training, I suppose, for these tough economic times. No fun when a girl just wants a pair of shoes, sadly. Now, of course, I have this newfound ability to do whatever I want. And I am not sure I feel very confident in this new place.

With the help of my 2 brothers, I made a sort of list of *Things* I need to do or have in place now that I am a single woman living alone. It is a helpful little list and I am plugging away at various items…I am very good at lists. Anyway, one major item on this list was New Car. With 98,000 miles on our trusty Mitsubishi, Brothers were concerned about safety, reliability, etc. And rightly so. My problem with New Car is that the best deal for the car I like/want is that I have to use the OMGMYHUSBANDDIEDINANACCIDENT Fund to buy it. I guess I should have called it the OMGHWOULDFREAKOUTIFISPENDANYOFTHIS Fund. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but like I said, 22 years of training…let the mulling and cocktails begin!

Sunday Morning Coffee

2009-06-07T08:03:00.002-05:00

When (and I do not recommend this in any way, shape, or form to anyone) folks knock on your door in the middle of a Friday afternoon to tell you your spouse of 22 years was killed in a horrible accident, there are a number of things that kick into gear. I suppose it is different for everyone, how your body and mind sort of go into autopilot mode. For me, I guess I was lucky in a sense. My body and head must have decided to take care of me. I was relatively calm, invited the people inside, and put together a list of who to call and what to do next. I remember all of it down to the last detail.

Looking back, I think during such an awful time you can go two ways: you can crumple into a corner and never want to get out or you can grab your wits and look forward. It's a tricky thing, that shock factor. As much as a portion of my scaredshitless brain wanted to crumple, the rest of me looked around and decided the crumple thing was not going to work.

The trick to all of it, I believe, is to have those things in your life which are just yours. Yes, marriage is great and you have this best friend and partner...that is all wonderful. Times spent together as your own little family whether you have kids or not are important and hopefully happy :) However, having your own time and your own hobby or "thing" is equally important...you still have to be your own person. I was lucky to have had a partner who completely agreed and was on the same page. If, during a time of great stress and great sadness and your world is totally rocked and whipped upside-down, you can go to a place or do a thing that is no different no matter what is going on, you will find the *normalcy* you need to be able to face the next round of bad/sad stuff. Does that make sense?

I (duh) ride horses. I actually bought a new horse just 2 weeks before H's accident...had sold George The Bastard Horse in December. New Horse completely fell into my lap. I wasn't really looking and some friends said I should try a gelding that was for sale for a zillion dollars and was a 2 hour drive into Michigan. Ya, OK, I said. Of course I fell in love, made a ridiculously low offer, was laughed at by the sellers and then told they would love for me to have him. Crazy carma I tell you. Anyway, New Horse is the most gentle, sane sweetheart I could ever have found. Most of all, he is my Great Escape...you see, my riding was and is My Thing. While H was very supportive ($$$ and otherwise!), he rarely went with me to the barn and just wasn't into riding. And, he only met New Horse one time before his accident. During all of the funeral planning and visitation and dealing with H's family goo-ga, I tried to sneak away to the barn for a few hours...and believe me, THAT is what kept me going. The barn and horse are no different whether my world is torn apart or not. There are no sad memories there...only my good or bad rides, which happen no matter what.

In thinking about how I have worked through the past several weeks, it took some time to piece together how I kept my head and continue to keep my head on straight (fairly!). I finally realized it is that sense of *normal* I feel when I walk into the barn and tack up my horse. There is no death or insurance or bank business or beneficiary business to take care of...just poop and leather and sweat! Love that stuff :)

Not sure if this all makes sense, but I wanted to get it down so it can be re-visited later as I move through this whole process.

Weekend Update

2009-06-06T21:13:00.004-05:00

Today was a big day at Camp OMGWTF.

1) I did yardwork...which is so not on my list of favorite things. You know, when you get married or you have a significant other you sort of have this agreement about who does what, right? Well, my stuff was INSIDE, H's was OUTSIDE, and he was really quite proficient at it...now I have to do both and it so sucks! OK, I cheated a bit and hired the kid across the street to mow and weedwhack. He is a great kid but I am sort of disappointed he does not seem to find my lawn/weedwhacking the most important thing in his life!.He just finished his Junior year of HS yesterday so I probably should cut him some slack. BUT OMG, IT IS SUPPOSED TO RAIN THE NEXT FEW DAYS AND MY GRASS/WEEDWHACK ITEMS ARE SO OVERGROWN! To be honest, I am terrified my house will become the crappiest one on the street. Or, everyone will say, "That place looks like shit...used to be nice but the lady's husband died and it all went to hell." AAAHHHHHH!!! Do they know I am only used to cleaning the toilets?? That is a lot of work, folks. So, anyway, I did yardwork and I got lots of weeds pulled and things trimmed. It looks nice and will look much nicer once the kid mows :)

2) Oh ya, remember my list of *things*...and how the neighbors don't know what to do? Well, while I was in the midst of my yardwork, the neighbor kid (not the mowing kid but the son from the family that lives behind me) came over with a baggie of chocolate chip cookies. He handed them to me and said, "My mom made these and thought you might want one while you are working". Well, he would have said it like that except for the fact that he has this tic of sorts that causes him to not really stutter but he just. can't. say. the. words. To make matters worse, he is 19 and sort of awkward or whatever and I seem to make him very nervous. Which makes the speaking thing more amplified. I feel like Mrs. Robinson when I talk with him. Once he got the cookie news out, he *casually* mentioned how he will turn 21 in just 2 short years and he can come over to have a beer with me. I didn't quite have the heart to tell him I am not sure I will be ready for a young cabana boy even in 2 years. GAH! The whole other thing is that the neighbors NEVER brought cookies over to H when he was in the midst of his mowing and weeding. He would be upset that I got cookies on the first try.

8 weeks and I am still here and still sort of sane. Score one for The Sarcastic One That is a good thing! Let's pour a Bailey's, shall we? :)

Some initial thoughts to get the conversation started

2009-06-03T15:09:00.000-05:00

1) Folks say and do things which seem rather odd and out of character. I had one person yell at me because I did not rush down to the accident site to *see* it and him and yell at everyone.
2) H died in a work-related accident. Take #1 and multiply by 10
3) Upon advice from my insurance agent, I hired a lawyer to deal with the liability insurance issues. His name is Lou and he drives a Prius.
4) H’s family is rather far away. In the 22 yrs we were married, they never came to visit, and we always went to see them. They arrived after his death and wanted to change some of the funeral arrangements. They were also upset I did not prepare the traditional smoked salmon for the wake. They asked me to make them tea. I don’t think they understand the term “Next of Kin”. Clearly, they did not see me as family. That hurt.
5) Re #4, I did make it clear to them. It was not pretty and only one of them has contacted me since they left. That also hurts.
6) Neighbors and friends really do care and often don’t seem to know what to do. As time passes, some of them ask HOW AAARRRE YOU? In all caps. The close friends know you are totally f-d up and thankfully they just bring you booze.
7) Someone brought fried chicken and Italian beef to my house in the first few days. I will never be able to smell nor eat either one ever again.
8) H loved birds and often had dreams he could fly or was flying. I have noticed that when I think about him a bird of some sort will always fly by. I am not sure if it is meaningful in any way but it is sort of comforting.
9) These days (~8 weeks out) I feel like I am just moving along but I am not sure if I am doing this right. I am not sure there is actually a right way so I suppose I’m good.
10) What I miss the most is talking about our days while I made dinner or while we ate. I have so much to tell him.

And then she was welcomed to the real world

2009-06-03T11:14:00.000-05:00

Not quite 8 weeks ago, my husband H died in an accident. It seems so cliché to say how it started out as any ordinary day; however, it really did. I was drinking my coffee, he had his oatmeal, we read the newspapers, I complained how he didn’t wipe the counter. Very, very ordinary. He left for work and I never again saw him alive.

Welcome to your new life.

While I was fairly content with how my life was going before any of this, I am suddenly in the midst of figuring out how to go on with this new life that I really didn’t want. In one way, I want to throw myself on the ground in a childlike tantrum. In another way I want to sit back and see how all of this plays out. In the meantime, I want to put some of this into words just to document this journey or whateverthehell you call it. While it is sad and scary and uncertain at times, I have found it also to be quite funny. Perhaps it is just my sick and sarcastic sense of humor. That hasn’t changed at all. Whatever, it is what it is. Here goes.

of wine, martinis, bones, and the ex-con

2007-09-05T12:24:00.000-05:00

H & I were on vaca last week. We did not ‘go away’ as such; however, we banned the work cell phones, home-to-work computer access, and attempted as much of a getaway as we could muster considering we were still at home.

Relaxing is hard work.

The first couple of days, which we eventually referred to as “Detox”, we fought and argued and were basically just pissed off at each other for any and every reason imaginable. The rest of the week loomed before us, dismal and silent…Gah! Luckily, we remembered to play nice and things looked up just in time!!

We went to the beach and observed the home-schoolers and retirees as they went about their daily lives…those lives quite mysterious to those of us who head for the office during the week instead of making sand castles, chasing seagulls, chatting under a bright umbrella, and eating from coolers full of goodies. H & I tried our best to fit in but our tuna sandwiches, grapes, and mini bottles of Pino Grigio did not make us feel in with the In Crowd. Next time I am packing gin.

We also took the train to Chicago for a day. H wanted to go to the Field Museum…since I remembered this museum as just a bunch of bones and things from those high school field trips, I was none too excited to experience it once again. With H. Who reads ALL of the little info plaques and likes to see EVERY exhibit. My but how easily she is swayed with the promise of a martini along Michigan Ave…
I confess, The Field Museum is a tad more interesting than it was when I was 16 and the martinis, of course, were fabulous; however, the most interesting part of our Chicago jaunt was on the train ride home. Seats were few so H & I had to separate. I ended up sitting with…I don’t know if it was a he or a she…a person who had just been let out of prison and was on his/her way to the NW Indiana countryside to live with his/her grandmother to, and I quote, “Start back on the right track, man.” I asked what he/she planned to do for work and fun. As the train sped along towards the life of freedom, I found out he/she had a certificate that certifed him/her to change oil, had received a GED while in prison, and had read the bible a lot so things were really looking up. I heartily agreed these attributes would certainly be assets in the Indiana countryside...I try not to be bitter, honestly...it is my sick, sarcastic humor that makes me truely evil at times while I am outwardly very normal. During the course of the ride, we discussed the additional life and job possibilities one might have should he/she to look into cutting the hair, rethinking the wardrobe, and removing the facial tattoos. Don’t say I never use that Sociology/Communication Arts Degree…my quest to save the world never ends...

Much like my love for a cool martini after a day of observing bones.

2 Decades of Bliss (...and a Chalupa to go)

2007-08-09T11:27:00.000-05:00

H & I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary last month. A milestone. 20 years, ye gads! Where the hell did the time go? We are hardly the types who plan elaborate cruises or exotic vacations for occasions such as this; however a gal can hope for maybe a fragrant bouquet of flowers or a sweet box of truffles. H called me at work, terribly excited and eager…”I just dropped off your present!”, he said. I was kind of like, “Huh? Wha?”. Diamonds? Flowers? Romantic weekend getaway? Nope. For our anniversary, H went to the bank and put a rather sizeable principle payment on our mortgage. Ya, I know…tres romantic! Bet you are jealous. While a principle payment is a wise and responsible move, I was perhaps a tad bit disappointed. Meh.

Presenting good cover for my bummed-outed-ness, I suggested we make reservations for dinner at one of the more upscale restaurants in the area. I figured at least I could drown my somewhat dashed romantic dreams in a $10 glass or two of wine. Reservations in place, H informed me that a client of his had asked us over for an afternoon boat ride on the lake where they live. The lake is surrounded by mostly upscale homes. H has been working on a humongous addition to their house since last fall. These people have a pontoon boat and they wanted to take us around to see the homes from the lake. I somewhat reluctantly agreed, not terribly eager to spend an afternoon with folks I hardly know, looking at houses with clients of H’s so it meant I had mind my manners and my 4-letter words; however, I knew H was sort of obligated to go, you know, customer service and all. Besides, the fine dining afterwards would be well-deserved by that time!

Soooo, we changed our dinner reservations to 7:30, found our sea legs and boarded the merry pontoon, manners in tact. In anticipation of our *dinner*, I did not eat much during the day. The people were very gracious and had a bit of wine and some snacky bits, which was all quite generous and pleasant. Being in Sales, I can talk the talk with the best of them…so we chatted and, well, we looked at houses. What began, however, as a quick zip around the lake, became a nearly 6-hour tour of duty. Apparently, H & I are the most fun these folks have seen in quite some time. Who knew we could generate such conversation and merry pleasantry! We putted along around the lake and finally docked for a potty break around 6:45. While onshore, I ducked into the bathroom to cancel our reservations. (I had whispered to H, “Fuck it, we are so stuck here!”) We just couldn’t seem to get out of going BACK out for another ride “to see the lake at dusk!” Meanwhile, trying to refrain from stuffing my face with all of the munchies and sipping wine on my empty stomach had me slightly intoxicated as we headed back out to sea. Another putt-putt around the lake and we finally tied ‘er up to the dock at 9:30 pm. Pleasant enough? Yes. 20-years-romantic and worthy of replacing the gift of a principle payment on the mortgage? Hmmmmmm.

To top off this elaborate celebration of our 2 decades together, H and I drove through Taco Bell and headed home.

Fine dining indeed. Here’s to another glorious 20…!!

George is not a Genuine Draft

2007-08-06T12:12:00.001-05:00

Snippet from last week's riding lesson...

TrainerCheryl: Some folks like a more heavy contact with the reins; however, I prefer a bit lighter contact.

WTC: Like how much?

TrainerCheryl: Oh, it should feel kind of like you are holding 2 empty beer bottles...not much more than that.

WTC: Hmmm...I wouldn't know how that feels...I always try to have a full bottle on hand in case I finish the one I am drinking.

TrainerCheryl: **Sigh**

Just fitting in!

2007-07-13T11:51:00.000-05:00

I have been tooling around town in *Mah Chruuuuck* this week, trying to get used to it. It is comfy and fun, especially when I can embarass H in our uber-uptight neighborhood by driving up to the house while waving and shouting to him in my sleeveless shirt with my bra straps halfway down my arms.

And I now refer to H as John Boy...

2007-07-11T10:21:00.000-05:00

When I became a full-fledged horse-owner, I *mentioned* to H that it was probably just a matter of time before I got a truck to, you know, complete the scenario. Of course, H was well aware I had wanted a truck for quite some time. He knew I wanted a truck when we bought our first car together, a Dodge Colt. He knew I preferred the cute Ford Ranger when we traded the Colt for a Mercury Topaz (a 4-door because we needed a “family-type car” even tho we did not have kids, gah!). For a couple of years, H figured he pacified me by agreeing to a succession of GMC Jimmys…I guess the Jimmys made up for the Topaz by not contributing to what seemed to me was our careening rapidly towards a Buick 4-door sedan before age 40. While we were driving the second Jimmy, the ‘Crossover SUV’ was developed. I firmly believe the Crossover was formed specifically with H in mind, as he could have his *Family Car*, I could have my *Truck*, and there would finally be world peace. Thus, we purchased The Crossover, a Mitsubishi Outlander.

I still wanted a truck.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of ours bought a new car. Much to my delight, he was getting rid of his rather worn and torn 1997 GMC Sonoma for the attractive price of $500! A tweak here (new tie rods, new brakes, and a new set of tires), and a tweak there (a new door latch and a reinforcement of the seat), and SCORE!!, I have morphed into Mary Ellen Walton for less than $2,000.

I call it “Mah Chruuuck”, and even though I ride English, I told H I'd like to to outfit the back window with one of those humongous “Cowgirl UP” decals and perhaps even one of these bad boys, so I can drive H completely nuts.

Now for some International, Faith-Based riding

2007-07-02T11:29:00.000-05:00

The barn where I ride has a fairly nice indoor arena. Someone was kind enough at one point to hook up a small stereo system so you can listen to the radio while you ride. It is quite nice to be able to tune out distracting noises, especially during this month of legal fireworks and loud motorcycles. Normally, the barn radio is set to the local Country station…definitely not my favorite, but noise to drown out noise nonetheless; however, might I say the past couple of rides have provided us some interesting musical offerings.

Now, I will preface this by saying that my taste in music is fairly wide…I guess I would be considered a fan of Classic Rock; however, I can tolerate the occasional sappy pop tune or oldie. Of course, being married to H means I have gone Country my fair share of the time as well. I will further preface this by saying that George’s music tastes probably run closer to Hard Rock or Heavy Metal. He is a Head Banger, Big Hair kind of horse for sure. A healthy dose of Led Zeppelin or Def Leppard with a bit of Bon Jovi or Poison thrown in and he is a happy boy.

Last week, I flipped on the radio when I arrived at the barn. I did not pay attention to the dial; however, I figured it was set, as usual, to Country. We were all set to kick up our heels for a barn-raisin good time; but as George and I began to walk around, I realized we were riding to the Spanish station that is very close on the dial to the Country setting. I was already in the saddle and warming up so I told George to Cowboy Up and deal with the fact that we were about to have an exhilarating workout to La Bamba, La Vida Loca, and several Menards advertisements in Spanish. He was not humored in the least.

Yesterday, much to George’s dismay and my evil and sarcastically sick humor, I discovered mid-ride that the local Country station plays Christian Country on Sundays. Although, I do not attend Church regularly, I was raised Catholic, went to a Catholic College, married an Irish Catholic...I have had my fair share of religious experiences, including but not limited to a college prof who spoke in tongues and a roommate who was a Litergical Dancer. (We regularly drove her to drink by referring to it as Lethargical Dancing.) I am not a heathen by any means, but trotting serpentines to ‘Our God is an Awesome God’ just cracked me up no end. It was such a hoot! George, on the other hand, did not find this at all funny. He kept shaking his head as if he were mimicking his Heavy Metal heroes and completely shunning the musical ministry that glowed thru the dust of the arena.

I am thinking this week we’ll try Polka Music.

Morning traffic

2007-06-27T12:11:00.000-05:00

Yep, the commute this morning was rather hectic...

Happy hump day from the land of corn.

Thoughts for a summer weekend...

2007-06-22T07:52:00.000-05:00

This woman is a phenomenal writer.

Moving forward...somewhat

2007-06-20T11:19:00.000-05:00

George and I had a lesson yesterday afternoon. Although TrainerCheryl complimented us on our much improved and very forward trot, I was disappointed in my canter work or, quite frankly, lack thereof.

My name is Walktrotcanter and I am afraid to canter. Yep, let’s just put it out there.

I. am. Afraid. Big. Chicken.

We can be going along in a fine groove and I will think, “Gee, perhaps I will try the canter”…with visions of the wind on my face and my hair flying in the breeze as we zip right along. The problem is not that my hair is not long enough and I wear a helmet so it wouldn’t fly in the breeze even if I COULD get a nice canter going; the problem is that when I cue George, all hell breaks loose in my body and I end up flopping about like a noodle in the saddle, all legs and elbows. George then says to himself, “WTF?? What is she DOING up there??”, and decides whatever it is I am doing, he had better slow down.

And off we trot.

Cantering has always been a bit of an issue with me, I don’t know why. I think it is because I feel like all of the sudden everything is MOVINGVERYFASTANDHOWCANISTAYWITHTHISSPEEDINGHORSE. Of course, when I watch someone canter while I am standing on the ground, it does not look at all like the blur of speed I seem to feel when I am riding. I agree with TrainerCheryl in that I just need to do it and do it and do it and my comfort and coordination will come. I also agree with TrainerCheryl in that George is not going to take off in a bucking rampage so he is a good horse as far as learning. I just need to do it. And learn it. And not be afraid.

In other, more exciting,news, George has moved to a different stall at the barn. This move is somewhat of a *promotion* for us, as we are now only steps away from the tack room. This is the *elite* section of stalls that the long-term boarders normally call home. (We are in the IN Crowd! We are POPULAR!!) Now, instead of hauling our saddle and bridle and assorted miscellaneous items down the loooooooong corridor of the barn with several trips back and forth because I usually forget something, I am only steps from my tack locker. Now, George will also be tacked-up faster thus allowing for optimum riding time. I am more thrilled about this than George is, of course; so to make him happy I told him we would go to Target and get some furnishings for his new penthouse apartment. Maybe a cool chair and some tab top curtains so he fits in with the popular rich kids next to him.

Flicka? Where have you been?

2007-06-13T08:30:00.000-05:00

Yeah so it has been about a million years since I last posted…I have become Lamoid Blogger. It isn’t that I don’t have *material* for a daily post, I just don’t have *time*. Enough with the excuses, move on.

We last left off with The Move of George to New Barn. Fortunately, he is quite thrilled with his new digs. His spot in the barn is next to a sweet sorrel mare named Lilly and a bay gelding named Kris so he has friends to kick back with and drink beer.

Because of continuing problems with our own getting-used-to-each-other, I put him into 30 days of training with a very nice woman who I met thru some fellow boarders at the barn. What we found out is that George was *a bit* spoiled with his former owner and when I put the kabash on some of his behavior, he became very anxious and was acting out. It was not that he was being mean, he was just confused. I was nearly at my wits end by the time he started BootCamp with Cheryl, The Trainer. The last straw was when he tried to lay down and roll WITH MY $$$$SADDLE$$$$ ON HIS BACK. At that point, I cared a heck of a lot more about my saddle than I did about him. It was pretty much the ultimate Fu** You from him and I felt like I had failed at the one thing I had wanted for years more than anything else, my own horse. Where was My Friend Flicka? Where was The Black Stallion? Hidalgo?? How come my horse hates me??? Uggh, it was really awful and frustrating and sad and humiliating.

Once he started BootCamp, he threw several tantrums with the trainer. I was kind of happy to see it wasn’t just with me that he became a spoiled brat; he did it with her when she asked him to do things, too. After a couple of sessions, he finally started to figure out that everything is ok and there is no need to stomp and pout…we can have fun even if things are not on his terms. All things Horse have been going much better in the last few weeks, much to my delight. He is not an easy horse and he definitely has an opinion, but he and I are working together with a bit more harmony and a lot less crying. I was able to work out regular lessons with the trainer so we can continue to progress. I don’t think H minds that we don’t go out to eat much and we seem to have all generic labels in the cupboard as long as I am not a frustrated sobbing mess from not being able to enjoy my horse. After all, our hobbies are supposed to be fun, right?

Riding On!

2007-03-10T07:22:00.000-06:00

After much discussion, thought, and knashing of teeth, I have made the executive decision to move George to New Barn! It seems that whenever I am faced with these life-altering (ya right!) decisions in my life...say, to change jobs, go back to school, get married, or buy a Starbuck's coffee other than Sumatra, I shift into HyperAnxietyMode. I mull and muse until I am completely bonkers and H refuses to discuss the matter with me anymore. I then pronounce my Final Decision, wherein I have relief for about 2 seconds before I find that the original problem that led to The Anxiety goes away and I wonder why I was deciding to change anyway. Get it? Ya, I don't either.

For instance, I made The Big Barn Decision '07, let my current barn owner know, and cried with BarnFriendEmily about how we will miss each other. Then, true to form, I had 2 excellent rides on George and thoroughly enjoyed several evenings at the barn with Emily and a few other boarders...where was all of this a few weeks ago when I was miserable and ready to chuck the riding thing altogether??? Argh.

Anyway, despite the fact that Old Barn is now a place of fun, great company, and riding enjoyment, I am still moving forward with the move. I think in the grande scheme of things, I will be better off at New Barn. The indoor arena is larger and the footing is well-kept so I will be able to work with George on a more regular basis in a bigger place. There is also a very large outdoor arena and some trails so we can vary our riding and he can play Ranch Horse at times. Old Barn is more geared to trail riding and while that would be fun this summer, my riding goals lean more towards improving my Dressage riding. I can't possibly reach my ultimate goal of being a True Dressage Queen if I am trailing riding. Hrumph!

So, there it is! I am a little nervous about the whole *meet new people* phase; however, I am excited to get out and ride and learn about all things George. Moving Day is tomorrow so today I get to gather my gear and help George say goodbye to his pasture pals. We'll pass out apples to all of his buddies and make sure they have his forwarding address so they can write to him at his new boot camp.

...and a heated tack room!

2007-03-04T07:44:00.000-06:00

I am in a bit of a conundrum at the moment regarding where to house George. The farm where I have kept him the past few months is very close to my house; however, I am finding more and more that I am just not cut out for the *self-serve-type* barn arrangement. Yes, it is very handy to live only 5 minutes away. No, it is not very handy to have to do my own turnout, feeding, and stall cleaning.

Thru a friend, I found a barn about 15-20 minutes away that currently has some openings. The price for board is $100 more than I am currently paying. I am figuring that what I am now spending on buying my own grain and stall shavings, in addition to the time I am spending would probably even out as far as cost. Yesterday, I drove to the place to take a look. It is very nice with a very large indoor arena. I could actually just arrive, tack up, and ride...no stall cleaning, venturing out to the pasture of 10-12 horses to fight to get George inside! Honestly, it seemed a mecca compared to what I am doing now.

The drawback thusfar seems to be that H is kind of skeptical about the change. I think he likes the folks at the barn and, in fact, we have had some fun outings with them. Perhaps he is afraid, as I am, that our new little social circle will go away. I so much enjoy little Emily and the new foals and the mini horses...I would miss all of that as well. It is a bit like deciding to change hairdressers!!! Oh, the stress! The jist of it, tho, is that I really want to enjoy my horse and improve my riding...and it has not been easy to do that. At times I spend so much time with the cleaning and such that there has not been enough time or energy to ride.

Am I getting to be a spoiled dressage queen? Yipes.

I guess in the past few months I have decided what I need as far as the barn where I board. Despite H's skepticism, I am leaning towards making the change. H is going with me today to take another look at the place...so maybe he will see what I am talking about.

Just had to write down my thoughts...stay tuned!

I'll take a George, with a slice of lime...

2007-02-27T20:22:00.000-06:00

As new as my horse is to me, (4 mos this weekend!) I can honestly say that one of my favorite things about him is how he just stands and listens and gives me those big brown eyes when the cold and the grey and the long winter get me feeling a little blue. Lately old George has been the stiff martini I have needed. I think I am really beginning to like the old fella.

I lost a good friend a few months ago. Actually, one of my best friends. I met Pam about 16 years ago when we worked together. She and I immediately connected...one of those friendships where you just hit it off and love the heck out of each other from day one. She was a super wife, a great mother, and a true friend. She was a peach...and probably one of the funniest people I have ever had the opportunity to meet. Although we went on to different jobs and moved about our lives during the years after we met, we were always able to pick right up and laugh and have a drink anytime. We had great fun. Pam died of lung cancer in October. She never smoked and did everything as healthy wealthy and wise as the rest of us...it was one of those terribly unfair deaths that make you shake your head and wonder what the hell just happened.

I miss Pam an awful lot.

As corny as it sounds, I find that during those quiet moments in the barn when I am brushing my horse and just concentrating on the silky reddish color of his coat and the calming brown color of his eyes, I know I am getting the best therapy ever.

All creatures great and small

2007-02-25T20:51:00.000-06:00

I am back online! We have been without power for the entire day...geez, light and heat are great!!

Anyway, the mare finally had her baby...Snowy Eyed JoAnn arrived early Thursday morning! She is a healthy, bouncy, Buckskin Filly. We are all in love with her! We call her the Blizzard Baby due to the fact that her impending arrival included various weather conditions that made all of us anxious. How sweet she is...my first experience with a newborn. She is so soft and curious...it is hard not to stand and watch her for hours.

Some pics...

My Friend Flicka...er...Emily

2007-02-21T20:57:00.000-06:00

So the weather finally broke(!!!) to an amazing 40 degrees (give or take a few, who cares) since Sunday. What is a girl to do??? I mean, a girl who is nervous about how her new and yet-to-be figured-out horse will act after the cold weather layoff yet is wanting with hopeful desperation (is there such a thing?) to get to know her wacky new horse and, well, you know...RIDE!!??? Ya, this girl. The one who hates that she is afraid but yet is a bit afraid. That would be me.

I headed to the most knowledgeable and available person I know: BarnFriendEmily. Emily was as excited to ride as I. Thus, I asked Emily to *help* me. *Help* to a 14-yr old horse-crazy girl means she totally showed me what to do by lunging all of the bucks and piss and vinegar out of old George and by then taking him for a test ride so we knew he "was gonna be ok". *Help* means she, with her 14 yr old confidence, gave ME the confidence to hop on and ride and do absolutely fine. *Help* means she will never know how much she helped me.

Emily and I rode our horses last evening. The weather was warm (for here, that is!). We talked and trotted and did a few transitions just to let our guys know we are in for some work...but not so much work that we are frustrated or scared or fruit-loopy.

And the *guys* seemed to enjoy getting back to business. They behaved like perfect gentlemen, much to our delight.

Finally, I enjoyed my George. We had fun and relaxed. Isn't that what this is all about?

Out of the mouths of babes

2007-02-17T09:24:00.000-06:00

I am sitting here in the Sitting Room...just waiting for the TWO to THREE inches of snow to finish falling so I can head out to clear the driveway. I have to admit, it is pretty and sort of Christmas-y; however, aside from the feverish flu I seem to be fighting I think I also have a bad case of Cabin Fever. I. Want. To. Ride. My. Horse.

Yesterday I talked BarnFriendEmily. Emily is 14 and quite refreshing in that she is one of those teens who is polite, sweet, helpful, and wears jeans that actually fit. Emily is also horse crazy...I just love her to bits. Her parents just purchased for her the horse she has been leasing from the owner of the barn where we board. When she called to tell me he was going to be hers "forever and ever!", she was in tears she was so thrilled. No ipods or cellphones for her dammit, she just wanted a horse. My kind of kid.

Anyway, when we talked yesterday I expressed to Emily how frustrated I am about not being able to work with George. I told her I am a bit nervous about just hopping on him after nearly a month off and how am I going to know if he is going to remember everything, blah, blah, blah. I went on and on, raving like a lunatic about my fears and frustrations. Emily just listened for a few moments and then said, bless her 14 yr old heart, "Oh, it's no big deal! Last year I took the whole winter off...don't worry, you will be right back on track for summer after just a couple of weeks."

At that moment, I realized how frigging old I am. When exactly is it that we get to a point in our lives where we feel like we are running so short on time? When, if we aren't exactly on schedule, everything will fall apart, never to be fixed! To Emily, this cold snowy weather biz is just a small glitch. An inconvenience, but nothing that will stop us from picking up right where we left off once the weather breaks. All will be fine and we will be riding again in due time. There is plenty of time for everything and no need for worry.

I guess the more I thought about what Emily said, the more I realized I must dig out my Inner Teen when I get stressed about all things George. Then, when the time comes, I may actually just sit back and enjoy the ride instead of analyzing every teensy glitch.

Meanwhile, it looks like the dog has the hang of it...

...and then it snowed some more

2007-02-14T13:07:00.000-06:00

Another day off work due to snow! This is like getting a free weekend...except for the work of digging out, that is. I did finally make it out to the barn this morning. (Still no baby...Mother Nature must be holding off due to weather!) George was outside. I sat in my car for a few minutes, just watching all of the horses play in the snow. They are so beautiful...I just can't get enough of watching them.

I am using this time to get a little plan together so once the weather breaks, George and I will be able to have some fun. This break is good in a way because George is doing much better as far as fitting in with his pasture buddies. He was bucking and running around with all the rest of the snowbunnies today. His barn manners are getting much better as a result...I think he was just frustrated because he had no friends! His nipping has stopped and he stands nicely for me when I groom him. YEA!!

Once this weather breaks, we will do some groundwork and hopefully a bit of riding. The riding part makes me a bit nervous (see previous post) but we'll just take our time and do things at our own pace.

(Happy Valentines Day!!)

As the snow flies...

2007-02-13T14:19:00.000-06:00

I have been home all day...big blizzard conditions closed our office. It is nice to have a day off to get things done...you know, all of those things I keep putting off because, well, I tend to spend a few hours at the barn. Now I am being held hostage...the plow has not been by yet and I doubt my little car is fit to hurdle thru the snow drift at the end of the drive.

The weather has been challenging my horse-ownership skills the past few weeks. After a lovely December, we were plunged into sub-zero temps and now we are covered in snow. Yes, I board George at a barn with an indoor arena; however, I have not been able to ride in nearly 3 weeks! The owner of the barn, who is new to the whole boarding/indoor arena thing, watered the arena footing to keep the dust down. Unfortunately, it is all now frozen...therefore, a bit dicey for walk/trot/cantering. Further, I am a little nervous about just hopping on George after several weeks of not working him. I don't know him all that well...what if he is a fruitloop??

Ah, fear. My new faithful companion! I don't know if it is the cold or the dark winter evenings or my being in the midst of not really *knowing* George yet...but whatever it is, I have been more nervous about riding him and sometimes even working with him lately. It is so frustrating! I don't WANT to be nervous. I want to be relaxed and enjoying the whole process. How does one get to that point with a new horse? I have been doing bits of groundwork with him whenever possible. He is getting a lot better with paying attention to what we are doing and his biting has just about stopped. Looking back at how he was a month or so ago, I know we are making progress. I guess I need to focus on the small progressions and not expect to have an Olympic partnership right off the bat. Certainly, once we can get on a more regular riding schedule I will become more confident with him. Here's to hoping Spring springs soon!

At least the poop is easy to scoop!

2007-02-03T15:56:00.000-06:00

We are in the midst of a deep freeze here. I think the high for tomorrow is something like 0 with wind chills of -35. I drove to the barn today to check on George. All of the horses were inside, including a mare that is due to give birth at any time. The barn owner has not ever had a baby born this early in the year...nor has he had one due in this kind of cold! He bought the mare already bred and he didn't know she was due so early in the year. He is going nuts trying to figure out a way to keep the baby warm. Mama is doing fine so far...we are all hoping she has a healthy, hearty little one!

I have a light blanket on George. He has somewhat of a coat, but not as thick as is probably needed for being outside. I only have a lightweight turnout blanket so he is going to have to muttle through. There are so many theories on blanketing I am not sure what to do...and I hate to go out and spend $150 on one of those poly-filled ones if he doesn't really need it. Poor George. He has a mom that is so cheap. He is never going to be Homecoming King with a mom like that. Since the weather is not supposed to break until late next week, I am hoping he will get to go out at least for a couple of hours a day...I think everyone else is hoping the same for their horses. George will be a fruitloop if he is in for more than a couple of days...as I found out earlier in the week when he did his rodeo thing while I was leading him to the arena. I am not sure I would feel too confident going thru that again so if he doesn't get out tomorrow I am going to have to ask someone to help me turn him out in the arena.

Meanwhile, I cleaned his stall, told him to please be patient, and prayed that his water doesn't freeze. Brrrrrr.

...and then we practiced our musical freestyle

2007-01-30T12:01:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I braved the cold and went to the barn after work. I actually have to go every day after work to feed George. My barn is kind of a self-service place…you get a stall but you clean it yourself and buy your own shavings. If your horse needs grain, you must feed him yourself. It is good in the sense that it MAKES you get out there and spend time with your horse. Especially if your horse is, say, high maintenance. Ahem.

Anyway, yesterday George was kept inside all day because the temps were in the teens and he does not have much of a winter coat. I had actually found a quilted winter coat to put on him so he can go out in this weather so my plan was to fit the coat in addition to giving him a good run in the indoor arena. Good plan!

As so often is the case, my plan did not go as planned. As I was leading George to the arena, he got very excited about the prospect of running. So excited in fact, he began hopping and bucking while still on the lead rope. After a few Hey!’s and Woah!’s, I was able to get his halter off and set him free. As this is the first time any horse, much less my own halter-trained horse, has done this while I have been leading, I was rather startled and, quite frankly, afraid. I hollered for a fellow boarder, Ned, who just happened to have stopped by the barn to feed his horse. As Ned came to my rescue, I did what every good horseperson does. I started to cry.

How is it that I can want something so bad (a horse of my very own) and be so afraid and un-confident at times (like when said horse is leaping up and down at the end of his lead rope)? It is a maddening addiction, I have decided.

In my constant effort to scrutinize and dissect what exactly happened, I know that George was just being a horse. A horse that had been inside on a brisk, bright day with no buddies to play with and no friends to run with. Ok. Logical enough. George is also still getting used to his herd and the whole pecking order that presents so he is acting out as a result of his confusion and frustration as to where he is. Ok. Logical enough. It is ok to be afraid at times during the learning curve…that’s how you learn. RescueSquadNed assured me last evening that I am doing everything right. I am mixing groundwork with my riding, I am giving George days off, I am correcting his behavior when needed. George is a tough cookie and soon enough he will settle into this barn and environment and new rider thing. I have to be patient and consistent and ask for help when I need it and that is ok.

What I don’t need to do is fall apart when things don’t go quite as planned. Don’t be so damned emotional. Easier said than done…we’ll see what this evening brings.

His ears were burning

2007-01-28T07:44:00.000-06:00

George must have known I was going to post about him. Either his ears were burning or he has high-speed internet in his stall. Whatever it was, he was a perfect angel yesterday. The nippy, pushy, un-listening horse I had all week had been replaced with a sweetnaturedbrushmeifyouwantIwilllistentoyourlegandstandverystillfortheclippers Quarter Horse. Things that make you say Hmmmmm.

I was at the barn all alone with him. It was so wonderful to relax and brush him and talk with him...one of those days where you get sucked into the *Barn Vortex* and you don't realize 3 hours have passed and you haven't yet grocery shopped or done laundry.

But you spent time with your very own horse.

Horsekeeping 101

2007-01-27T07:50:00.000-06:00

Ok, so it's been 2 months with George. How is it going, you ask? Have we bonded with a sensual woman/horse relationship as one would see in those Practical Horseman Magazine? Are we schooling flying changes, extended trot, and piaffe well on our way to USDF competitions?

No.

Not really.

It hasn't been all bad, of course, but I am learning George slowly. Slower than I had hoped, I guess. In our defense, let's just say that buying a horse at the onset of winter in the Midwest is probably not the best timing as far as really being able to spend time with and get-to-know each other. It is either freezing, raining, snowing, or all three at the same time. Oh ya, and dark. Ok, I will stop complaining. George is a rather tough nut to crack, I am finding. We are making big progress; however, he is not a horse that gives freely. I am having to work for every little progression. In the long run, it will be good for us. Really good. I must remember that when I get frustrated and feel alone in doing it. What is the problem, you ask? Hmmmm...let's make a list:

1) George was, with his former owner, allowed to be mouthy. No, he doesn't let loose a string of obscenities or backtalk! Well then again, maybe that's what it is. He just always needs to have something in his mouth...be it my jacket, the leadrope, the brush, whatever is handy for him to grab. It makes him very nippy, which makes grooming and doing things with him quite difficult at times. At one point, he grabbed the boob of a woman at the barn who stopped to pet him. Ouch. Although I did not expect to have to groom my horse with a crop in-hand, it has come to that at times.

2) George refuses to bend. I am working with a trainer (the Trainer from Chicago! - see previous post) who agrees I am going to have to work for every inch I get from him. I'll admit, I was riding some pretty sweet horses at my old barn where I took lessons. Sweet in the sense that they were trained 2nd or 3rd level and knew to listen to my leg even when it wasn't the most educated or experienced leg. George's reaction, for the most part, is "Leg?"..."What leg?". So we turn like a board.

3) George is a pansy. He hates mud, rain, snow, cold, hard surfaces, work, and probably me. He gets his ass kicked on a regular basis by the other horses he is turned-out with. It is such a disappointment! Unfortunately, the barn where I board (the only one I can afford around here!) has a large pasture with probably 8 other horses. When I drive up in the afternoon, ALL of the other horses are usually eating hay from the big hayrack in the field. Except George. 90% of the time, George is standing off by himself or waiting by the gate for me to let him in. If he tries to venture near the hay, all of the ears go flat and a few kicks fly and he moves away. I had his shoes pulled for the winter on the advice of the previous owner. His feet are very sensitive so I have to ride in Easy Boots...otherwise he is all ouchie. I was going to re-shoe him but winter is over in a month or so...so I'll just keep Easy-Booting him til March. Argh.

I would say these 3 issues are the most challenging/upsetting to me at this point. I would also say they are probably all related as far as his attitude. If he is not getting to eat outside he is unhappy and hungry so he will try to bite me when I am grooming him...you get the picture. The folks at the barn are nice enough; however, they have all had their horses forever and don't seem to understand the struggle I am having. I do not need to be told to "Just get after him" for the biting. I KNOW that and I AM getting after him! I was used to, at the old barn, a bit more comradarie (sp?) and a bit less judgement. However, the old barn where I took lessons for years and felt so comfortable and made so much progress as far as learning horses is closed...so I am here at this barn which is very close to home and very affordable. And I am trying to make do. And I am trying to get to know my horse. And I am trying to have fun with all of it even when I am cold and frustrated and grooming my pansy-assed horse while holding a dressage whip to fend off his playful nipping and mouthing.

It's going well.

Happy Birthday, Sis

2006-12-03T19:54:00.000-06:00

Today is my sister Katie's 39th birthday. I have not spoken to my sister in nearly 9 years. NINE YEARS! It is a long and drawn-out drama, but the jist of it is that my sister did some things 9+ years ago that led to my saying "Enough is enough!". My theory is that there are folks in your life who you want as friends...simply because of the wonderfulness of how those people are. There are others you prefer to have little contact with because they are just not your type or they do hurtful things to others that you just can't understand. This applies to folks who are unrelated as well as those who are related...hence my relationship (or lack thereof) with my little sister.

And it hurts sometimes.

My sister Katie was glamorous, daring, fun, spontaneous, and had the best ESPRIT clothes of any teenager I knew growing up. She was smart as a whip and had a wonderful sense of humor. I still smile when I picture her getting ready for a date. She would be wrapped in a fluffy towel, reeking of Estee Lauder White Linen, and strutting her stuff to Boy George. (Ya gotta love the 80's!) I always admired her quick wit, her long blonde hair, and her big boobs.

Katie is 39 has 4 kids now. And a lovely 2-story house, and an SUV. I suppose she still has the wonderful clothes and the fabulous sense of humor and the great boobs. And, although I have been hurt by many of the things she has done to me and my family, in a small way I want to wish her a Happy Birthday from her big sister who still loves her an awful lot.

Climb aboard!

2006-12-02T19:52:00.000-06:00

Behold...My new barstool!

How cool is this for a horse-a-riden gal?

Only a few more miles...

2006-11-29T09:23:00.000-06:00

Well, I definately messed up my month of blogging every day. A girl has to ride her horse, doesn't she??!?!

Anyway, the other day I was driving and found I was feeling *really* lucky:

Kind of gave me the creeps but at least I was going the speed limit.

George and I...and Me & George

2006-11-19T19:50:00.000-06:00

So, about yesterday...geez, it was fun, tho. I will apologize again for my nopost; however, it was well worth the IAmSoTiredICantMove.

I remember as a kid I used to go to the 4-H fair. Every year I would watch the other girls, (the GIRLS WHO HAD HORSES) *hang out* with their very own horses. It was like a private club I so wanted to be a part of! They would casually sit atop said horses and chat with each other...kind of like lounging on the couch and gossiping...only they were on THEIR HORSES and HANGING OUT. Man, it was so cool and I SO wanted to be one of them.

Yesterday I went to the barn to see George. BarnFriendEmily was there and, well, she is 13 and she not only has a horse, but she is in 4-H. Let's just say that BarnFriendEmily is one of those girls I so wanted to be way-back-when.

I saddled up George and BarnFriendEmily saddled up *Vegas* and guess what...??? We HUNG OUT. ON OUR HORSES! Just like I wanted to do about a zillion years ago. Ok, so who cares that I am now nearly 42...I HUNG OUT!!! We rode a bit, sat on horses and talked, rode a bit more, sat on horses and talked, and then did it all again. I have to say, it was everything I imagined it to be. I was beyond thrilled, I tell you.

I finally had to unwrap my legs from around my new horse. I went home, took a hot shower, and crawled into bed. Honestly, I felt like a kid who has over-experienced Christmas...it was crazy! And I was so happy. And I loved it.

Yea, so I didn't do my daily post. Ok, so ya, whatever. I hung out. I sat on MY horse and hung out. Yea, so I am 42...Just feeling like 14. Finally!

I missed

2006-11-19T07:19:00.000-06:00

...yesterday's post!

Fortunately, the reason is that I was out enjoying one of the best days I have had in a long time and by the time I was able to drag myself inside all I was able to do was put on my footie pj's and hop into bed. So, let's count this lamoid bumble of words as Saturday's post and I'll write a beaut for today.

Fair enough??

Thanks.

It's Friday!

2006-11-17T21:56:00.000-06:00

Geez, this work week was a bear! I am ready for a week-end!!! I have big plans to get the house whipped into shape for our Thanksgiving company. You know, wash the curtins, freshen up the bed linens, make sure the bar is stocked...all of the important hostess things one must do when hosting.

The reality is that I will probably go riding for the majority of the weekend. And make sure the bar is stocked.

Love and Loss on the River

2006-11-16T15:27:00.000-06:00

H & I were up at Nantucket a few weeks ago to get things put away for the long winter. As I mentioned previously, the place is a virtual plethora of personalities…honestly, I could write a book. Our neighbor *Denny* is a retired forklift operator who lives on the river year-round. Since H & I purchased our *little piece of heaven* six and a half years ago, Denny has had two live-in girlfriends. Girlfriend #1, we found out later, was actually Wife #2 who had, after the divorce and several years away, came back for unknown reasons to live with Denny. *Wanda* was not too friendly and, according to Denny, was into macramé and tanning. We did not see much of Wanda and during our first winter we found out she had, at the end of the summer, gathered up her macramé knots and vacated. For a while, Denny was a bit of a lost soul. Whenever we saw him, he would mention how he was *looking for companionship*…it was kind of sad, especially when he would ask if I knew of anyone who might be interested in him. I had a difficult time telling him that no, I couldn’t think of any good looking women just now who were looking to move into a remote, riverside cottage with a retired forklift operator who smoked generic cigarettes, wore sleeveless t-shirts, canvas slip-ons, and whose conversation topics centered around how many walleye he trolled-for or how he suspected a meth-lab was operating on the far side of the river.

Fortunately, Denny met *Lois*, the widow of his ex-best riend who happened to somehow be attracted to one or all of Denny’s many attributes. Lois was one of those rather tough women who seemed to have very high bleached hair, tight jeans, and baby doll t-shirts. She wore rings on all of her fingers. Denny was over the moon in love. After a year or so of romantic riverside love, it was evident that Lois had some family issues that included, but were not limited to, a son who was stealing money from her and a needy sister who lived several hundred miles away. Since Denny’s idea of *companionship* is a good woman who cooks for him and listens to his stories and gives him physical whatever, the romance fizzled like rain on the campfire and Lois and her 4 x 4 truck moved on. In a twist of broken-hearted luck, just as Denny’s crushed ego was beginning to mend, he suffered a minor stroke while changing out a pipe under the kitchen sink. He was admitted to the hospital for several days which must have somehow stirred up the dual-exhaust in Lois’s own heart. She was back! Mind you, H & I learned of these comings and goings at odd intervals when we would head up to Nantucket for quiet, relaxing weekends. It was driving us mad to have such drama unfolding by the week in the cottage right next door…like TV only better!

It turned out, to Denny’s extreme disappointment that Lois was not back in his life for the long haul. As soon as the color returned to Denny’s cheeks and he was back to his walleye-trolling stories, Lois once again revved up the good-bye and peeled out of his life.

When H & I were putting the boat in and raking leaves a few weeks ago, Denny tapped his generic cigarette pack against his hand and again lamented about his need for companionship. (H suggested he take in a foreign exchange student!) Now that Lois is out of his life, it seems he is in for a long winter indeed. So much so, that he proclaimed as he lit up a smoke, “If I don’t find some companionship soon, I’m gonna leave this here river!”

Ouch.

Show me your horsepower!

2006-11-15T20:33:00.000-06:00

I don't have much time right now but I must say that my *lesson* this afternoon was fantastic. I can ride again!! The TrainerFromChicago was so much help...George was wonderful! Well, that is, after he pissed and moaned about having to work.

I am happy.

I have my horse and he works!

A+++, Georgie!

Now this is a horse of a different color!

2006-11-14T20:58:00.000-06:00

It seems George has morphed into a horse of a different color. The sweet, gentle, obedient, trustworthy Quarter Horse I looked at, fell in love with, and purchased is gone. Now I have a stubborn, pushy, testy horse that makes me feel like I have not only never ridden a horse, I have never even been around one. Frustration. I realize this is a part of the whole *horse ownership* thing but I have to admit, I had visions of George and I doing beautiful patterns around the arena, a partnership of my dreams! Instead, we seem to plod for a while and then he grabs the bit and runs. It is definately taking a toll.

To fill you in, dear readers, (all one of you!!) I had taken lessons from a trainer forEVER...he was fabulous, knew me like a book, and unfortunately, moved to a new barn about 45 minutes away. Not only is his new barn far away, it also is VERY fancy schmancy and charges more than my mortgage for a month's board. Hence why I am kind of *on my own* at my little local barn with George. I miss Good Trainer!! This is difficult!!!

Tomorrow is the dawn of (hopefully) a new day! I am having a lesson with a trainer from Chicago (yes, that makes me sound very barnsnoblike!) TrainerFromChicago is coming... I know this woman from a few years ago and she is very good. $60 an hour good! So, we'll just see what George and I can learn!

If nothing else, this and the whole *BLOG LIKE YOU HAVE NEVER BLOGGED BEFORE* is a good test of creativity and patience.

And the moral of the story is, always be prepared...

2006-11-13T15:19:00.000-06:00

On one particularly hot day this past summer, I went grocery shopping directly after my weekly riding lesson. I had thought I was being very practical as far as not showing any underarm stains by wearing a light pink polo shirt to my lesson…since most likely I would be all sweaty after my ride, I could still go to the grocery store and look like a semi-human person. Ya, good plan. As I let my horse out into the pasture after my lesson, he stepped in a puddle and splashed muck all over the front of my pink shirt. No underarm stains, just big pooey splotches, folks…nothing to worry about!

Despite my muddy clothing, I made my way to the grocery store, ever determined to get my groceries. As I was getting out of my car, I heard a woman scream. I looked up to see a car speed away, presumably with purse snatcher and purse inside! The poor woman was a mess. She had put her purse down in the trunk of her car while she unloaded her groceries. A guy walked by, grabbed her purse, and jumped into his getaway car. The aftermath was all detectives, video footage, and me getting interviewed in my pink polo with mud splotches all over the front. Figures, you are just never ready for a crisis! I wanted to say, “Look people, at least I don’t have PIT STAINS…and this is MUD, not HORSE SH**, I swear”. The woman whose purse had been stolen was very thankful for my cooperation and time in staying for all of the police business. At the end, she even gave me a big hug and didn’t even let on that I looked a bit *disheveled*.

I had pretty much forgotten the whole event until last week when I received a thank-you card in the mail. It seems the purse-snatching thugs were arrested and the woman was thrilled to have her purse in-hand once again. Inside the note was a gift card...perhaps she is really thanking me for my time and assistance. Why do I feel somewhat as if she is suggesting I buy some detergent or possibly a new pink polo…

A secret I have been keeping...

2006-11-12T20:05:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, H & I had to go to the funeral of my older brother's mother in law. My sister in law's family has lived in this town for eons so there were, honestly, a zillion people at this funeral. As we sat waiting for the service to begin, I noticed a man standing in the doorway. He caught my eye and proceeded to walk over to me, H, and my parents. He said hello to me and I said hello...and then introduced him to H and my folks, saying the usual, "You know John...his kids went to school with us, etc. etc." My father knew of the guy so he made some comment, as did my mom...the usual sort of polite chat. The man excused himself after this pleasantry and walked away. A few moments later, he came back to me to tell me that I had mistaken him for someone else...he was actually someone I used to work with and not the person I had introduced him as. I never did say anything to my folks or to H...they think he is John. Uggh.

Problem = Tears = Sanity!

2006-11-11T20:44:00.000-06:00

I braved the freezing-cold weather today to go to the barn and spend time with George. I think we are in the *testing* phase, wherein he tries every trick in his Quarter Horse pocket to see what he can get away with. When I brush him, he likes to try to nip me when I move to his right side. And riding, well riding has been a bit of a disaster. When we walk he is all, "OK, we're cool, baby...this is fun and I am soooo relaxed and listening to you...". When we move to trot the tune changes dramatically. "WHATHEFU**??!?!?!?! I AM GOING TO HOLLOW OUT MY BACK, RAISE MY HEAD TO THE ROOF, SHAKE MY HEAD, AND GRAB THAT BIT AND RUN!!!!!!!!" After 15 or so minutes of this today, I was frustrated to tears. It was like I had never had a riding lesson in my entire life. I tearfully approached George and said,
"Look, I have spent thousands of dollars and a hell of a lot of my time trying to learn to ride and if you think you are going to screw me up you have another thing coming Mr. Quarter Horse From Hell. (By this time I was sobbing) Poor George didn't know what hit him. I hooked up a lunge line and lunged the crap out of him...he was not allowed to stop trotting or cantering for a good 15 minutes. Poor guy. He was in a sweat when I finally climbed back on his back. He was not an angel but I think I got his attention and we walked and trotted without too much fuss for another 5 minutes.

Much as I hate the frustration I felt today, I think George is going to be a wonderful teacher for me. Ok, so I hate the tears...but I solved the problem enough for us to have a good end to our ride. And tomorrow we'll give it another try!

Happy trails!

Friday Stuff

2006-11-10T20:55:00.000-06:00

It seems Winter is here...today started at about 60 degrees...here I sit by a cozy fire, the wind and rain lashing outside! You have to love the Midwest! Not much planned for the weekend, thankfully. H & I will *close Nantucket* (the cottage) on Sunday. Otherwise, I will be cleaning house, grocery shopping, and visiting my *George* at the barn. I rode today but G was definately testing his new rider and it was not pretty. I am looking for someone who will travel here to give me lessons...hopefully I will find something soon.

Sorry for the lamoid post...just trying to get my quota in for NaBloPoMo. Rather pathetic, I must say.

Happy weekend!!! Does that help?

Just another Distinguished Alum

2006-11-09T12:44:00.000-06:00

My younger brother, now 27 years old, is one of those people who have a life where everything goes just right. He is the youngest of 5 kids and, honestly, it makes all of us absolutely sick. Everything just falls into place no matter what the situation. While in school, he was not a good student by any means. We were all worried about what was going to happen to him with his miserable high school grades and general lack of motivation. After much anguish (mostly from my parents), he was able to get into a state college by the hair of his chinny chin chin. While in college, he met some key folks and was able to secure an internship with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway by the time his senior year rolled around. Several years later, much to the envy of the rest of us toiling officefolk in the family, he landed a job as a media person for one of the more well-known NASCAR drivers. In essence, he has a really neat life and he really enjoys it and it all continues to roll along very nicely. Yes, we are all happy-for and proud of him, don’t get me wrong. It is probably normal sibling rivalry that makes us roll our eyes as he mentions how he hung out with Ben Affleck all afternoon. Or how he walked the red carpet with Paul Newman and Owen Wilson at the premier of that race-car cartoon movie CARS that came out a few months ago.

Naturally, it was not a huge shock to me when my mother informed me recently that my brother has been selected to receive a distinguished graduate award from his college. This award is giving to chosen alumni who have, I guess, found REALLY good jobs in their chosen fields and are a positive inspiration to aspiring students. As my mother mentioned, you sort of think of these awards going to, say, someone who is saving starving children or perhaps solved the problem of world peace…not to someone who hangs out with famous folks and watches car racing every weekend. My mom asked if I would scan a copy of the alumni paper that ran the article on the awards so she could email it to some relatives. Although I am not the one in the family who has the glamorous career, my mother was indeed impressed with the job I did re-touching my brother’s photo for the article.

My Child is an Honor Student...

2006-11-08T13:14:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I headed out to the barn to visit George. Yes, I wanted to ride; however, my real reason for going was to give him a pep talk. You see, yesterday was to be George’s first day on the playground, so to speak. His first day in the pasture with his new horsey friends. If you don’t know much about horses, I must l tell you, they have a rather pronounced pecking order within their herds. Defining that pecking order is not pretty…often it involves squealing, biting, kicking, and general foul play much like say, the popular cliques of my high school but with a lot bigger kids. When a new horse is introduced to a group, the group immediately gangs up and says, “Hey, just who does HE THINK HE IS??!!” When New Horse says, “Hmmm…, I think I want to eat THIS hay!”, they pin their ears, bite him, lash out with several swift kicks, and say, “Oh yeah?...we don’t THINK SO!!!” It is a bit of raw nature that is interesting to watch say, on The Discovery Channel, but not necessarily with your very own first horse you have wished for, fought for, and waited a lifetime to have. I felt a little like how a mother must feel the first time her son plays in a real football game...the other kids are going kill him and I want to throw my arms around him and shield him so he doesn’t get hurt! Needless to say, I had to let poor George fend for himself…I could only stand by and watch. And maybe plan on tending to his wounds after all was said and done.

George and I had a mother-son conversation about defense, sharing, and playing nice with the other kids before the Barn Manager put him out in the pasture to face the music. Much as I pictured poor George getting his shiny Quarter Horse ass kicked by the 5 other horses in the pasture, I am happy to report that he seemed to have wisely listened to my lecture by generally munching hay with the rest of the boys without as much as a squeal. I seriously think he might even be elected Homecoming King.

For you folks on the ground, here is the view from the cockpit...

2006-11-07T07:50:00.000-06:00

My heros have always been cowboys

2006-11-06T15:59:00.000-06:00

I'm off to ride.
Ride my horse for the first time.
Go George Go!
Well, not THAT fast.

George comes home

2006-11-05T21:24:00.000-06:00

*George* arrived Saturday afternoon. (He's the guy without the hat) He stepped off the trailer and was all "What the hell's going on here? and "Where the hell is the bar?" I gave him some hay and settled him into his new digs. It's a nice bachelor pad complete with a feed bucket and clean shavings. Today we took a tour of the indoor arena...he was thrilled with the footing and overhead lights. I brushed him and talked with him about how excited I am that we are going to be great friends. He is really excited about the carrot part of the deal.

Tomorrow after work I am planning to lunge him and...take our first ride! He kind of crunched on his hay by the time I talked about that but I am sure he will be just fine with the whole riding thing.

A Horse, Of Course!

2006-11-04T07:32:00.000-06:00

There was a friend of mine when I was a teenager who got a horse for Christmas. As in, her parents knew she wanted a horse with all of her heart and soul so they got her a beautiful palimino gelding. That same Christmas I believe I received a cross-stitch set and a red blouse. My parents were not wealthy and I always tried to be thankful for what I had; however, a horse was always my wishaponastarblowoutthebirthdaycandleswhatdoyouwantforchristmas dream.

He arrives at 2 o'clock today.

Um, I think I'll go with the pumpkin pie instead

2006-11-03T09:10:00.000-06:00

Lately something at work has become a bit of an issue with me. It shouldn’t be a big deal; however, it is really cutting into my love of fall’s bountiful goodies such as apple cider, apple doughnuts, apple fritters, and gooey caramel apples. A few weeks ago, the *person in charge of office/sanitary supplies* bought a new air freshener. You know, the cans of spray used in the jon for those who choose to *go* at work. (Before anyone starts pointing fingers, let me just state for the record that I am not one who can *go* anywhere except in the sanctuary of my own home. Unless under severe intestinal distress, I choose to keep my business quiet. I once went 3 weeks on an overseas trip without as much as a pea-sized poo, that’s the extent of my neurosis!)

So, anyway, this new air freshener is the scent of apple pie. Apple Pie. Need I say that every time I smell the poo/apple pie thing in the hallway of the office, my love for all treats apple wans a tiny bit more?

All things big and small

2006-11-02T15:32:00.000-06:00

Well, the countdown has moved to mere hours. I will have my very own horse on Saturday!

I have been running hither and yon to get things together for the big guy’s homecoming. Like any new mother, I have washed saddle pads, bleached brushes, purchased stall shavings, bought several 50 lb. bags of grain, and phoned the horseshoer. H came home with a surprise the other evening…a bin to hold the grain. This *bin* resembles a piece of very large furniture. I am a little nervous I will seem like the *barn snob* when I move in with this big honking feed box.
I can only hope my fellow barn folks will welcome the addition and the comfy if not extra-roomy seating it will provide. Maybe we will all end up flopped-around like a bunch of teens at a slumber party…giggling, gossiping, and sneaking drinks of booze…all while perched on my grain box.

At any rate, tho a tad nervous, I am feeling like a kid at Christmas. I have wanted my own horse for as long as I can remember… Dreams. Can. Come. True.

Things that make you say "Hmmmmm..."

2006-11-01T12:48:00.000-06:00

The other night H phoned me from his place of volunteerment. He volunteers twice a week at a shelter for abused women. His job there is to work with children of the victims while their mothers are attending group therapy. The children benefit by having a positive male figure in their lives, even if just for several hours.

Anyway, H was breathless when I answered the phone, as if he had just run a 100 meter dash.

H: “WTC, can you please look up the number for the emergency vet clinic?”

WTC: “I thought you were working with kids.”

H: “I need you to phone the vet to see if lice will spread to dogs”

WTC: “Lice?” “Like, HEAD lice?”

H: “Yeah” “We need to know if it will spread to dogs”

WTC: “I know it can spread to husbands”

H: “I KNOW” (getting irritated) “But we are really concerned about the therapy dog getting it”

WTC: “I see.”

I have been itchy ever since.

Dusting off the Roundpen

2006-08-22T12:04:00.000-05:00

I’m back.

I found I just needed to take a few months off because, quite honestly, I could not think of one clever thing to write. In the event I happened to think of something clever, my creative juices would go all catawampus on me and I got to the point where I could not spit out any shred of cleverness. See? Major conundrum. I felt I needed to abstain long enough to cleanse myself. There. Now that I sound like I did a stint in the local convent, I will pronounce myself back to the blogging world.

I had a great summer! In a nutshell, I went to California where I rode horses on the beach, in the mountains, and amongst the giant redwoods. I also sprained the crap out of my ankle and had to spend several days in a deck chair with a lot of beer. H & I also went to Cancun for a week. Friends of ours called in a panic saying they needed to fill a timeshare they had purchased...some lamoid folks cancelled on them. H & I put on our rescue capes and scraped together enough cash to fly down and get tan. It was rough but we managed. On the home front, we planted a few things that might grow big enough to someday look like landscaping. By the time we get to the retirement home, it should be time to split some hostas and black-eyed susans. We managed to get to Nantucket a few times...so many stories there. Let's just say King of the Hill, shall we? (More on that later in future posts)

The biggest news of all is that I bought a horse. Not just any horse, but a horse named 'Wild as Can Be'. He is beautiful, exciting, sweet, well-built, and bound to be the love of my life. He will arrive at the end of October. With the *new project*, I believe it will be a good time to start up the ole blog again. This could be a rather scenic ride...:)

Our house is the one with the Red Roof...

2006-05-15T15:20:00.000-05:00

Like many folks, H & I like to travel cheap. That is, when we go away for a weekend, we don’t like to spend a lot of money on food and hotels…we prefer to save our money for the event we plan to attend. And for cocktails, of course. Often we will pack a cooler, make our own lunches, and stay in a lower-end place. Let’s face it; it saves a few bucks for other, more interesting and tasty portions of the excursion. On our recent trip to Lexington, we did our usual cheapie-road-trip thing…cooler, lunches, and reservations at the Red Roof Inn. When we were checked-in to our room, H asked me if I liked the lamp that was on the little desk. I gave him a strange look and said it was ok…then he asked if I liked the pictures in the bathroom.

I answered that I couldn’t see any pictures in the 20 watts of lighting that was intended to illuminate the bathroom and how come he was asking me these absurd questions instead of fixing me a cold cocktail.

“All of this can be ours!” exclaimed H, waiving a catalog.

It seems, according to the brochure H held in his hands, one can now purchase many of the items found in the Red Roof Inn rooms. For our very own homes! I have seen this marketing ploy popping up recently; however, mostly in higher-end hotels. I can kind of understand the temptation to purchase the fluffy robe, or signature coffee mugs from the 5-star hotel where you vacationed, honestly, but the idea of decorating one’s house to look like a room at the Red Roof Inn seems to be pushing the envelope just a bit. The brochure said we could buy not only the desk lamp but the shower rod, bedspread, and bathroom artwork. The *look* wasn’t inexpensive, either. The *bathroom artwork* was so exclusive it required us to “Inquire about price”. (Hello? Yes, I am calling to ask about the price of the fine art that was in the bathroom of Room 312 of the Lexington facility? My husband and I just built a new house and we are quite certain that particular piece would be perfect above the fireplace…)
With a bit of willpower, we did manage to stick to our strict budget and pass on the decorative items. We figure we’ll save our money to purchase the pulsating shower head at the Super 8 during our next stay.

Kentucky Recap...

2006-05-03T15:31:00.000-05:00

Twas no surprise that this past weekend once again confirmed the fact that some of my very favorite things in life are horses and picnics with copious bottles of chilled wine. H & I really enjoyed our weekend in Lexington! The Rolex Kentucky 3-Day Event draws quite the crowd. As we did a bit of shopping in the trade fair, I had to snap this pic with my phone just for Kiddo…(the girl's backpack says Winona State!)

On Friday, we walked the Kentucky Horse Park but we were not too exhausted to pass up dinner at the Horseshoe Saloon. It was one of those bars located near a hotel off the expressway where the locals seem to congregate to check out visitors to their fair city. H was fascinated with the drunken girl in tight white pants with no underwear lines. She was in her early 20’s and quickly became the love of his life. He gazed at her longingly as she proceeded to consume an entire pitcher of beer in less than an hour. I was torn between watching H watch her and scoping out the hottie in the “It ain’t gonna lick itself” t-shirt. I really needed a camera at that point but I had stupidly left it at the hotel. I decided I need to move to Kentucky for more interesting blogging material.

Saturday we watched lots and lots of horses as they galloped and jumped around the park. They are so beautiful and so amazing.

We also ate and drank too much…especially H who gets really grossed out by the porta-pots…
He cracks me up

Sunshine, Seeding, and Shopping!

2006-04-23T09:58:00.000-05:00

Well, I survived the business trip to Orlando! There is nothing that improves a girl's tan lines more than going to a lovely resort hotel in Orlando and having to stand in a windowless conference room in khaki's and a long-sleeved shirt. It is, as I call it, *corporate torture*. Thank heavens the folks in the booth next to ours were kind enough to share their bottles of white wine! Lifesavers, I tell you, Lifesavers!

Some brief updates as to what is happening in the Land of WalkTrotCanter...

It seems that spring has sprung here in the *land of perpetual home maintenance*. Much to the utter delight of our rather obsessive-compulsive neighbors, H & I have begun to do some lawncare. Sort of. Since last summer's grass seed dried up in the drought, we have reseeded the lawn. We had to go to the local hardware store to buy a *broadcast spreader*, one of those things you walk behind that sprays seed and fertilizer evenly. Lucky thing I was with H for the big purchase as the salesman tried to sell H on the benefits of the $60 spreader with "inflated wheels" as opposed the the cheapie $20 one with "plastic wheels that won't absorb the shock". Ok, how much "shock" needs to be absorbed when one is walking behind a broadcast spreader? I told the guy we weren't planning to do any four-wheeling, we were merely intending to spread our grass seed evenly. So, anyway, our *broadcast spreader* purchase and lawn reseeding seemed to have set off a chain reaction here in suburbia. I had to snap a picture of one of the neighbors last weekend as he ran behind HIS broadcast spreader in a desperate attempt to catch up with our budding golfcourse-like lawn. (For the record, we have nicknamed this guy Paul Bunyon)

In other news, H & I are off to Kentucky this afternoon to attend the Rolex Kentucky 3-Day Event. This is one of the coolest horse shows around. Even H likes it!!! It is held at the beautiful Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington. The folks who ride in this can qualify for the Olympics and the World Equestrian Games...so no, I am not riding! This weekend will, however, involve my favorite things: horses, picnics on the cross-country course, shopping, and spending time with H when he is finally NOT WORKING!!! YEA! The camera is packed so I will post some action shots of H & I having wine, H & I stuffing ourselves with picnic food, and probably H & I standing in line at the porta-pottie. A full report when we return...

Where is my SPF??

2006-04-17T17:27:00.000-05:00

I have not fallen off the face of the earth! I have just been terribly busy...and terribly uncreative. This week I am in Florida. I wish I could say I was soaking up the sun with a cool umbrella cocktail in-hand; however, I am on a business trip wherein I have to dress nicely, behave, and refrain from ordering those oh-so-colorful martinis!!

I will have stories upon my return...

You think YOU'RE wierd...

2006-03-15T14:27:00.000-06:00

Kiddo tagged me to list 6 wierd things about myself...hmmmmmmm, only 6? Let me see if I can narrow it down from the zillion things that make me the neurotic woman I am today:

1) I am absolutely repulsed by spit. Something about it makes me utterly nauseated, especially when I see it on the sidewalk. Once when I was a kid someone spit in my hair and I threw up.

2) I have a somewhat odd fascination with copier repairmen. I guess I just wonder how you get into that line of work. And they are usually such characters. We had a repair guy who came to my old office who looked exactly like a 1970’s Barry Manilow. He even had the Spandex pants with the wide waistband.
The current copier repair guy who comes to our office gets extremely excited and lights up like a child on Christmas morning when he talks about how the roller brushes disintegrated thus affecting toner distribution. I think I want to marry him.

3) The sound of a dog licking (its paw or any other area for that matter) makes my skin crawl. That “schlurp, schlurp” noise can wake me out of a dead sleep.

4) Ditto with the *dog throwing up* sound. H is amazed with my hearing ability at times.

5) I often listen to Delilah After Dark on the radio. On purpose. I have no further comment on this.

6) I almost always get constipated when I am away from home. It has been cause for some serious embarassment such as the time I went home for a weekend with my boyfriend in college. I *finally thought I could go* and my boyfriend's mother forgot to knock and walked right into the bathroom. Things were stopped-up for a very long time after that incident. This condition continued to cause problems for me when I got married (not to the boyfriend) to H and spent 3 weeks in Ireland. I thought I was going to die a slow, bloated death and H wondered just what the hell he was getting into. His entire village in the West of Ireland was offering me cures for my *problem*. It is always nice to be offered a drink in someone's home, but not when it is offered with a, "Well now, this glass o'hot whiskey ought ta get the pipes a'movin. Do they have this problem a lot in America?"

Wow, you probably feel like you know me a bit better now, don't you...

Tag you're it: Herb, Mandy, Stacy, Belinda, HotBabe, and Christine...
The rules are, once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 6 weird things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to list 6 other people to tag and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment saying "You've been tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog...

On Golden Pond...

2006-03-13T15:59:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, H & I headed up to our cottage to make sure it is still standing after a long winter’s nap. It is! Yea! We bought *Nantucket* about 5 years ago when H discovered it in a For Sale by Owner booklet. I think he decided we didn’t have enough projects in the midst of remodeling our old house and designing and building a brand new house…so he found the perfect *project house* to help fill in any gaps where we might decide to, say, relax or go on vacation. We like to think of the cottage as *Nantucket* in the sense that we resemble the Kennedy family who can whisk off to a lovely weekend home as a getaway from our mundane everyday life. I must admit that our Nantucket is much more rustic than anything remotely Kennedy; however, the cottage is a fun place because it’s on the water and hey, there is always enough booze to make you ignore the décor and just be thankful there is at least indoor plumbing. Rather than *Nantucket*, I often refer to our place as *Jusfuckit*.

Since the past 2 summers have been filled with fun-adventures that involved selling a house and H singlehandedly building our new home, we have not had much time to spend at the cottage. Our last attempt at a weekend away, in the midst of HouseBuildingHell last year, ended in a horrible explosion of tempers when the plumbing in the bathroom decided to act up just as H stepped into the shower. As I recall, we ended up packing the car and heading home right in the heat of battle. It was ugly and I believe it to be a major contribution to last summer's complete and utter hell. Now that we are in the dawn of a new summer, H is once again raring to go on anything and everything involving work, tearing out, building, home improvement projects, and driving his wife completely mental. So off we went on Saturday to *make a list* (H’s pre-storm warning that tells me we are in for some fun!) of what we need to buy for this spring’s project.

One of my favorite things about the cottage is the neighborhood. Think King of the Hill. This is a colony of retirees who simply live to fish in the summer and survive on pure gossip in the winter. Let’s meet the neighbors, shall we…

*Denny* is a retired forklift operator who, after divorcing *Wanda*, told me he was in need of some companionship. He eventually hooked up with *Lois*, the widow of his best friend. When speaking of Lois’s husband, he will talk about his best friend but in the same breath say how “that bastard never treated Lois well a day in his life.” Denny wears canvas slip-ons, smokes generic cigarettes, and is usually a good source of what’s what.

*Jack* is Denny’s neighbor and sworn enemy. We are not sure what started this feud but we quickly learned that there is no love lost between the two. Jack is also retired, annually trains the swan families to eat from his hand, has a mysterious woman who arrives for a week or so mid-summer, and has pretty much greeted us with a friendly “Hi Neighbor!” when we have crossed paths.

*Tina* is a single mother to little *Glorianna*. Tina moved up from Chicago under mysterious circumstances. She introduced herself to us while her dog had the shits all over our yard. Glorianna or "Glory", is her overweight, somewhat obnoxious daughter who, at 7, is home-schooled. When they first arrived, Denny was looking for companionship and had high hopes with Tina…once referring to little Glory as “cute as a button”. This all stopped with the arrival of *Uncle Phil*.

*Uncle Phil* is Tina’s friend/brother/uncle?? We can’t figure it out. Uncle Phil arrives from Chicago every weekend in a blue Lincoln Towncar. He mentioned to H that he works in real estate. He purchased a pontoon boat and Chocolate Lab puppy for Tina and Glory. He also can't swim so he wears a life jacket most of the time when he is outside. The life jacket came in handy when Jack nudged Uncle Phil in his boat and Uncle Phil almost fell in the water. As a result, Uncle Phil hates Jack even tho the nudge was supposed to be a joke amongst neighbors. Since we heard Glory refer to Uncle Phil as “Dad” a couple of years ago, we now also refer to Uncle Phil as Tina’s Bootie Call.

*Richard* lives 3 doors down from us and is the neighborhood drunk. He seems to switch teams as far as alliances as he speaks to both Jack and Denny but not necessarily at the same time. He drives his boat very fast, usually with a beer in hand. Richard attempted friendship with H once by bringing him a tupperware container of rice casserole when I was not up at the cottage with him. H was afraid eating the rice casserole would put him smack in the middle of the Denny/Richard/Jack relationship so he played it safe and brought the tupperware container and rice home to throw it away.

*Bob Yager* lives across from Richard and, according to Denny, is thought by the majority to be “Queer as a three dollar bill”. Bob has a lovely landscaped yard with copious flowers, a bright pontoon boat with colorful flags, and young male visitors nearly every weekend.

By the looks of things on Saturday, the cottage is still standing and the gossip is still being served-up fresh! Denny informed us of his mild stroke while changing the kitchen faucet in November, Jack was feeding some baby swans, Bob Yager had a load of fresh potting soil delivered, Richard was holed up watching NASCAR, and Uncle Phil's Towncar was parked at Tina's. Can't wait for summer!

Precious Minutes

2006-03-10T11:23:00.000-06:00

My mother just phoned to let me know that she and Ray have a new cellphone number. Mom has become high-tech enough to use her cell for all of her long distance calling. She noticed she was running out of minutes and was wondering if she was allowed to change calling plans so she got on to her dial-up internet and tried to check it out for herself. In this age of Blackberrys and Bluetooths and Razr’s and wireless internet and laptops, somehow the p’s always seem to put things into perspective.
Some snippits from our conversation…

I finally had to call the customer service number the other day and talked with the nicest girl! They sent us this new phone that we get for FREE! To buy it would cost $79.99!

I called again today after we got the phone to see how to activate it. The girl told me to just turn the phone on and I said, “How??”

…Then the new phone rang and I got all nervous so I asked her, “What is THAT? How do I answer??” I tell you, this girl was so helpful!”

I’m standing right here looking at this new phone! It answers when you open it and hangs right up when you close it…it’s a Noika flip or something!

We even have rollover minutes now! This is so good for your father!

This afternoon your father and I are going to figure out how to get the welcome message the girl sent us…we are just going to take our time and do it right!

The girl told me she needs a new phone, too. I told her she might want to get this one, it is really slick!

Your father has it all set up here…he is even charging the battery!

Darn barncats...!

2006-03-07T15:28:00.000-06:00

So this new woman is boarding at the barn and she is annoying the hell out of me. I know this is very difficult to imagine since I am so rarely bothered by things; however, I am to the point where I am timing my visits so I don’t have to run into her. I am not the only one feeling this way, which I guess is a good thing. It means I am in with the *in* crowd even tho I don’t own a 35K horse! Yea me!

Anyway, *Lisa* is one of those people who tries extremely hard and with all her might to keep up with the Jones’s. (Me, I simply tap my heels three times and hope to hell I can pay the mortgage AND still lease my horse.) Now mind you, the *Jones’s* where I ride are more like *Rockefellers* so it is no easy task to keep up with any of them. Except for me…the AntiRockefeller.

On Saturday I was particularly irritable. I had gone to the doctor for a bruise I had on my leg. I thought it might be from riding but I was not sure. The doctor’s “OH MY GOSH!” kind of scared me and, unfortunately, she asked that I take a few days off from riding because it looked as if I had some soft tissue damage that was having a hard time healing, etc. etc. So, I was kind of bummed out and thinking my Olympic riding career was on the fritz. I went to the barn to brush the muck off my little guy and just have some quiet time when I encountered *Lisa*. After some idle chatter, Lisa mentioned to me how she isn’t planning to move her tack box to the barn just yet…this as she eyed my Rubbermaid storage bin with the “You’re ugly and that’s too bad” sticker on the lid.
I wonder if she thinks my tack box a/k/a Rubbermaid storage bin has cooties that will make her tack box look cheap? She also proceeded to inform me how she purchased her new horse from Washington State from a breeder. Ya whateveah. As if the horse is worth more because it is from another state? By this time, I was trying to ease myself away from her before my self esteem took a complete tumble into the familiar depths of non-horseownership. That, and I can tend to get a tad bitchy when pushed to my limits. This is when she dropped a zinger and said how unfortunate it is that I have to ride a horse that has “lameness issues”.

Lameness issues? I don’t think so.

Oh yes, his hips are way off and he tends to favor one side.

Yeah, well, he’s mine and he’s a peach and I am lucky to have him right now. It sure beats getting too far into debt buying something I can’t afford much less ride.

Meow.

Hindsight really IS 20:20!

2006-03-02T16:08:00.000-06:00

I went to the eye doctor the other day which is not exactly a spalike winter-blah boost but I needed new contact lenses. My order from 1800 Contacts was held up until I could get an optomolic blessing from my doctor. I have gone to the same eye doctor, bar the couple of years I lived in Boston, since 4th grade. Is that not scary? As I sat in the examining room I tried to remember the various styles of glasses I have worn. Let's just say it was not a pretty time-travel journey. My first pair of specs, at the start of 5th grade, had red plastic frames with a slight swirly-shape to the sides. Oh, so pretty! I remember my friend Ellen had a similar pair in light purple but her mom splurged and let her get a heart embellishment on the bottom of the left lens. I hated her.

Being from a family of 5 kids, 3 who wore glasses, I had to wear the red plastics until I *was allowed* to get contact lenses in 8th grade. An excellent choice for both fashion AND durability, that first pair of glasses took me thru several jr. high volleyball and basketball seasons. The fact that I was no athlete subjected them to a number of bumps and elbows… A teammate even sat on them in the locker room once and they bent right back to perfect shape. My mother finally thought I was responsible enough to *care for the costly contact lenses* once I was nearly a teenager. She just never heard about the mascara wand I accidentally jammed into my eye the first week I wore them. The *coal black* waterproof Maybelline made a permanent mark on the right contact that stayed there right thru high school and college. (This was before disposable contacts for you youngsters out there!) My eye doctor finally asked me when I was planning to replace it and I had to lie and say I just kept forgetting to tell my mom.

Just after college, H & I were married and living in Boston and I suddenly became intrigued with the whole serious I’m-an-academic look. Heaven knows, I wasn’t very serious or academic in college so it was about time I got smart. I decided to chuck the contacts and don some large, round wire style frames. As one coworker told me, “They make you look very wise”. I was thrilled. Convinced that I was fooling the world into viewing me as one of those women often seen in Glamour Magazine…who are supposed to be working in an office but they have that “I’m Looking for Mr. Goodbar” sultry smile,…
I stuck with that theme for a few years. I was working in Banking, wearing spectator pumps and suits, and, like the Glamour lady, was working my way up to that glass ceiling! That phase of eyewear, along with my banking career, ended with a pair of thick black frames that made me look as if I had some serious issues to discuss.

H waded patiently thru those years and I think was secretly relieved when I announced a few years ago that I had once again found some new frames. The *new frames*, I later realized; put me right on the cutting edge of fashion. I shattered that studius look with a grayish greenish frame with imbedded sparkles in the sides. Yes, just follow me girls…I had Bling before it was all the rage.

Now in my 40’s and no longer feeling the need to look intelligent, I am back to contacts with the bling frames thrown in now and then. I figure this will keep me going until I find the perfect glasses-chain to wear around my neck…

That's HoochieWalkTrotCanter from now on...

2006-02-27T18:17:00.000-06:00

One of the habits, I guess you would say, of living in a small town is that from the time you are a wee child you are genetically programmed to pick up the local newspaper in order to read several items religiously: The arrests and the obituaries. You just never know when the little kid you used to babysit will get arrested for dealing cocaine (this actually happened to me!) or your former classmate oh, say, is attacked and eaten by a grizzly bear (also actually happened to me...see The Grizzly Man movie...but that's another post entirely). Anyway, a religious reader of local interest items, (ahem!) I glanced at the obituaries this morning and found such a precious little gem of an obit:

Evelyn Louise Storey
EVELYN LOUISE STOREY "Hoochie Mama" Merrillville, Indiana Age 87 passed away in her granddaughter's arms with her grandson and their spouses at her bedside, February 20, 2006 at Colonial Nursing and Rehab.

Hoochie Mama??? I LOVE it! The obituary went on to say,

On June 30, 1935 she married Alvin "Did" Homer Storey, a marriage that lasted 60 years and produced three children.

I told "Did" (aka H) he may want to take note...THIS is how I want to be remembered:

She enjoyed plastic cross-stitch, games (cards, dice, cribbage), word-search or crosswords, fishing, traveling and was known to be "The Master Teller of Dirty Jokes." She delighted in performing in the annual talent show put on by the senior residents of her Ahepa Phase # 3 Apartment complex, where she resided for 8 years.

"Did" was not impressed that I inquired about tickets for the annual talent show at the Ahepa Phase #3 Apartment complex, nor did he appreciate my asking to be called Hoochie Mama from this point on. "Did" did, however, enjoy the dirty joke I told as we ate our oatmeal.

A sign this day just might be a challenge...

2006-02-25T07:40:00.000-06:00

I was tired last night. Really tired. FallAsleepOnTheCouch Tired. Luckily, it's the weekend and better yet a weekend without a time schedule. Ahhh, the best laid plans...

This morning at 5:45 the poodles were alive and kicking and raring to go outside. I tried to ignore them but really, how does one ignore the *big chase* that involves Missy tearing across my body in a blur of white fur followed by Mr. P bearing his teeth and growling like he is going to rip her apart. No more sleep for this cowgirl. Miraculously, H was sound asleep. No, he is just better at faking sleep than I. Anyway, I trudged out of bed, down the stairs, and out the door to let them out.

Another big chase around the yard and Missy stops to take a poo while Mr. P PEES on her.

Yep, PEES RIGHT ON HER.

Argh.

Walktrotcanter: Defined

2006-02-24T08:48:00.000-06:00

walktrotcanter --
[noun]:

A person who has the ability to be invisible

'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Tundra outside my kitchen window...

2006-02-18T07:12:00.000-06:00

Tundra
Originally uploaded by WalkTrotCanter.

Why I am not going outside today:

The combination of cold early morning temperatures and northwest winds
of 15 to 20 mph... will produce dangerous wind chills ranging from
20 below to 30 below this morning. Wind chills will rise above
dangerous thresholds by late this morning as winds diminish and
daytime warming occurs.

Daytime warming = 9 degrees!

Coming This Summer: Walktrotcantering on Brokeback Mountain!

2006-02-08T15:51:00.000-06:00

Yeah, so Hot Babe gets to go to a sunny island. Whateveah...

My friend asked if I would like to go to California this summer. She has a sister out there who she visits every year. From what I understand, the sister has a nice piece of property nestled in a valley very close to the mountains. The sister also has several horses so we will be riding and riding and maybe riding some more on this trip. My friend said she wants me to go because, selfishly, she wants a horseback riding buddy. I told her no problem...she can use me all she wants for that.

I have known this friend for several years and have often heard about her sister. Apparently, Sister has not had very good luck with men. She was in a very abusive relationship when she lived here in the Midwest so she went to California to get away from all of that. Once in CA she met and married a guy and had 2 kids. They were divorced about 2 years ago because the guy was fooling around behind her back. She bought her place and moved away from him. When my friend asked me to go with her in July, she was a bit nervous. She asked me out to lunch and hemmed and hawed a bit before I finally said what's the deal. It turns out that the sister, in light of all of her man problems, has turned to women. She now lives with a woman and, as my friend nervously pointed out *incaseIwanttoturndownthewholetripbutsheknowsIhavefriendslikethis*..., they share a room.

Between becoming my own version of a cowgirl out west and experiencing first hand some sort of a lesbian/bisexual Brokeback Mountain thing, this summer is sure to generate some interesting if not thought-provoking blog material. Stay tuned.

...and then I took on the roofing company

2006-02-07T15:11:00.000-06:00

One evening during the year of HouseBuildingHell, H assigned me meet him at *the plumbing place* so we could pick out the sinks, toilets, and faucets for the new house. Because I was so (not) *into* the entire process of the planning, decorating and emerging beauty of the new house, I none-so-eagerly showed up after work to browse the various colors, shapes, sizes, and finishes of all things plumbing. Anyone who followed the neverending saga of building The House heard about how I detested the whole process …thus I was usually not a very pleasant person during these little shopping trips.

Nancy, the plumbing hostess, led us to the display of kitchen sinks once we had *tested out* both the standard and comfort height toilets. (She actually had us sit on the toilets so we could *feel* the difference. H was really enjoying himself during this. He even practiced holding a newspaper so he was truly sure which height was best.) PlumbingNancy was happily chatting about the benefits of her own black kitchen sink as she presented the selection of sinks. It never showed dirt, was terribly modern with her decor, etc. etc. The kicker with sinks, I found out, is that they come standard with a certain number of holes for the faucet, sprayer, etc. As luck would have it, the *Cashmere* colored sink came only with 3 holes (see, otherwise you have to have that *unsightly plate-thing to cover the extra hole) when the *Fairfax* faucet we liked required only 2, one for the actual faucet and one for the drinking water spout-thingie. PlumbingNancy suggested we get a soap/lotion dispenser to fill the extra hole. She was thrilled with the dispenser she had with her black sink and she raved on about how she doesn’t know what she would do without it. Obviously, PlumbingNancy does not live with H. Her husband probably works in an office and does not come home covered in pipe dope, drywall glue, and other various substances H encounters at work. Nancy's husband most likely comes home and announces he just needs to freshen up and he'll be back to help Nancy with the second and third courses of their meal. H for some reason jumped on the bandwagon and hailed the benefits of the in-sink soap dispenser. He lauded the utter convenience of the thing, how well they are made, bleah bleah bleah. Nancy was beaming with delight. S-O-L-D.

Fast forward to the present:

The soap dispenser and I have had an ongoing battle of goo since day one of installation. The damn thing is possessed and driving me to drink. (As IF I even need a ride!!) H is tired of my ranting and finally tells me to write to the company and stop complaining to him. I write a scathing letter to Kohler that ends with a question as to why I can purchase a soap dispenser from Bath and Body Works that will dispense thickasheck- beaded-with-moisturizer-anti-bacterial soap without fuss for just a few dollars while my $$$$$$$ *Kohler Fairfax* does not and has never worked.

I received a new dispenser for all of my troubles. Yea. On top of that, I received a note from *Customer Service* stating “We have determined human error as the cause of the soap dispenser failure”.

Human error?

MY Human Error?? Honey, I have worked in Customer Service for nearly 20 years. I could give seminars on The Golden Rule of dealing with customers so I'll give you a little hint: You never blame THEM.

I wrote back stating that my only human error with their product was purchasing it in the first place.

Anyway, it's all Plumbing Nancy's fault... but at least I didn’t get a black sink.

Just in case you notice me in blue eyeshadow and liquid liner

2006-02-06T11:23:00.000-06:00

I stopped out at the mall the other day. It was Clinique Bonus Time and, well, even when I have all the makeup I need I can still find something to purchase in order to get that free gift which still, after nearly 20 years, includes bright yellow Dramatically Different Moisturizer. Who can’t resist that cheery colorful makeup bag with the fun trial sizes? Once while purchasing my obligatory amount of Clinique in order to get my free gift, a woman was walking past the counter with her husband. She saw that it was Bonus Time and suddenly turned to her husband and said “I…I…need some…something!” She didn’t even know what she would buy but she was obviously upset with herself for shopping with her husband during Bonus Time…husbands just don’t quite understand the obsession.

When I first began wearing Clinique makeup, I was just starting college. I remember feeling like I was entering a special sisterhood as I walked up to the brightly lit counter. Suddenly I felt very, very mature. No longer would I peruse the Maybelline and Bonnie Bell aisle at Walgreens. I would instead plunk down an obscene amount of money for bright silver eyeshadow cases and faux green marble blusher containers. And I, like many others, would eagerly await Clinique Bonus Time when it was all worth it because you got free stuff. Being a virgin to this new way of makeup shopping, I was assisted by the woman in the sterile white lab coat who was behind the counter. I remember she had short, blond hair and wore red glasses very similar to Sally Jesse Raphael. Several of us eventually referred to her simply as “Red Glasses Lady”.

Where did you get that great frosted eyeshadow?

Well, Red Glasses Lady recommended it…it’s a new shade.

Or

I can’t remember which color blush I used last summer…I’m going to have to check with Red Glasses Lady.

Always friendly but never pushy, Red Glasses Lady helpfully guided my friends and I thru Honey Blush, frosted eyeshadow duos, Moisture Surge Lotion, and self tanner.

I have since, in the course of makeup-wearing, shopped other Clinique counters in various cities across the country and even the world. The other day when I stopped in at my original store for my purchase and Bonus, I was assisted by none other than Red Glasses Lady herself. Only now she is sans the red glasses due to lasik surgery a few years ago. As I was waiting for her to ring up my purchase, another customer and I began talking about Red Glasses Lady and her friendly years of service to us. RGL returned to the counter and heard the last of our conversation wherein I said, “I feel like I have grown up with her!” To that, RGL smiled and informed us she is going to be retiring next month. The other customer and I both agreed that Clinique Bonus Time surely will not be the same without her. Certainly, our makeup shopping will not be nearly as comfortable without her expertise. Who would we trust now for new shades of colorful shadow and makeup tips? In a way, it was kind of sad. I didn’t realize how attached I was to something so everyday and familiar that I didn’t really think about it. I even feel kind of bad now about straying from her store to others during the last several years. I felt like a bit of a Clinique-counter slut. Anyway…

Thanks Red Glasses Lady…I’ll miss you!

My latest senior moment

2006-01-31T15:26:00.000-06:00

For some reason, I have a great sensitivity to seeing old men by themselves. I have no idea where it comes from, since the majority of my life is spent making sarcastic fun of people in general. It happens nearly every time I encounter an older man who isn’t doing something retiree-esque such as golfing or having coffee with his friends. If I am, say, shopping and I see an older man stocking shelves or worse yet being a greeter in a store, I have the tendency to get a bit teary. To me, they just deserve better. He probably misses his wife and her wonderful beef stew and maybe his kids grew up and live far, far away and don’t call or write and that’s why this poor guy is working his part time hours to pass the time until Wheel of Fortune comes on at 6. My sister calls it my *sickness*. She will burst into gales of laughter in telling the story of my emotional encounters with the older man that used to work in the local K-Mart. Every time I went into the store there he would be stocking the Martha Stewart towels or slowly trying to figure out the cash register in the midst of a bunch of over made-up GenX teens. Once, to my horror, my sister phoned me to say she saw him sitting all by himself, ringing a bell and dressed as Santa Claus in the front of the store. I avoided the place for the entire holiday season. I must have died a lonely old man in a previous life.

Last Friday I was doing my usual grocery shopping. I was moving along, minding my own business in the chip and dip aisle when suddenly I had one of my *senior moments*. Coming towards me in one of those motorized cart-things was an older gentleman. He had on a little pageboy cap and very thick glasses. He motored right for me for a brief moment and suddenly took a sharp left turn right into the potato chips. As he buried the entire front of his cart in the Ruffles I could hear the air-tight bags popping and the chips breaking. Instinctively I wanted to turn around and just go away. Heroically, I might add, I grabbed the *handlebars* of his cart and planted myself so he could bury himself no further into chip and dip hell. Mumbling something about how to stop, he slowly moved his finger from the *gas pedal* and brought the thing to a stop, nearly running over my foot in the process.

As much as I wanted to shake that old man and scream at him for making me all teary and emotional because here he is all alone on his little cart crashing into things with no one to help him because his wife died and his kids never call and how did he even get to the store did he actually drive himself????, I instead smiled all brightly and said, “Whoops, better take it easy there!”

I really do need some help. Really.

Hello? Is it you???

2006-01-25T20:40:00.000-06:00

Tonight at the gym I was on the eliptical trainer...located just behind the treadmills. As I huffed and puffed, I happened to look at this woman who was working just as hard as I on her treadmill. She looked vaguely familiar. You know, how you KNOW somone...but you just can figure out WHO she is. The entire time I was eliptically training, I stared at Treadmill Woman. Who the hell IS SHE?, I thought?? As finished my eliptical workout, Treadmill Woman happened to be finished with her workout and headed out the door to her car. She glanced my way once with no sign of recognition.

All of the sudden, it came to me! This person, Treadmill Woman, looked exactly like BlogPerson Lynne! I don't even know Lynne, I am but a lurker on her site...but I have seen so many pics from HotBabe, Stacy, and Christine, that I recognized her right there on the treadmill in my very own club!

Lynne, next time you are pep-stepping away on your treadmill in NW Indiana and the person behind you on the eliptical trainer is staring at you, rest assured it is just me, WTC.

Practice makes perfect...if you have the time.

2006-01-25T15:13:00.000-06:00

I just got a call from my mother. Now that they are both retired, she and my dad enjoy attending these educational seminars offered by our community. The seminars are directed to seniors and cover all sorts of topics from medical issues to political issues, to music, to pets. They actually sound quite interesting even to a non-senior like me. They are, apparently, so interesting that the venue where they are held is getting too small for the senior crowd. According to Mom, some of the attendees have complained about parking, not being able to hear the speaker, and even not enough seats for everyone. My heart goes out to the poor soul who has to field those phone calls.

Anyway,

Mom told me she and Dad just received the newest seminar schedule.

"Your father and I just got the new Social Senior Schedule. They finally decided to move it to a larger building. It was so crowded your father couldn’t hear."

"That’s great Mom, they seem to get quite a crowd."

"Well, your father is pretty sure he knows the parking around the new place."

"It will be handy to know where to go, especially in bad weather."

"The programs don’t start until next week but your father and I are going to drive to the new place tomorrow."

"How come?"

"Well, your father and I need to practice going to the new place."

I so need to retire...

I couldn't stop lisenen to her

2006-01-13T12:47:00.000-06:00

I have a most unfortunate duty, I think, in that I have to be “The Voice” of the phone system at my workplace. You know how when you call a business and “The Voice” gives you a number of options that hopefully get you to whom you wish to speak? That Voice. Once my mom called and when I answered my phone she said, “That was YOU!...That voice…It was YOU!” as if she had suddenly recognized me on the street and realized I was the leading lady in an academy award winning film. It was very exciting for her.

When I record the greeting, I try to be very careful about my pronunciation and diction because I am so very anal retentive. During the *recording sessions*, I need several attempts before I am satisfied enough to “go public” with the finished product. Hey, it isn't easy rattling off departments and extensions...and timing when to take a breath so I don't sound as if I am gasping for air. Oh, the stress! It is so not my favorite job! Consequently, when I call various businesses, I try to listen closely to their Voice just in case I might pick up any tips for my own performance. It can be very educational I have discovered.

The other day I had to phone one of our customers. The Voice was so very endearing because I will bet the woman spent a lot of time getting it as perfect as she possibly could.

Thank ya fer callin . Please lissen carefully to the followin options…

Fer Purchasin, press one
Fer Perduction, press two
Fer Shippin, press three...

The Voice was actually quite pleasant in a sing-songy country Tammy Wynette kind of way. In listening to the entire list of options there was not a "g" to be heard. It had me so intrigued, I forgot why I had called in the first place!

I am not sure why I wanted to post about this...It is just one of those cute things I find amusing in my odd little world.

Thank ya fer readin it.

When they scratch at the door what does it mean?

2006-01-11T15:59:00.000-06:00

I bought some reins on ebay a couple of weeks ago. Now that I have a horse to ride I feel it necessary to further grow my tack collection beyond merely a used saddle. One never knows when one will need to look coordinated and classy on one’s horse. Who knows, I could be invited to a show, parade, or Olympic Games at any moment and I want to be prepared.

When I received the reins in the mail, they included a color pamphlet describing the seller’s spiritual counseling business. The woman is a channel, animal communicator, horse trainer, author, nutritional consultant, energy-meridian therapist, a 4th degree black belt, and founder of Zen Horsemanship. I am thinking I purchased my reins from God herself. Boy, do I ever feel inadequate after reading that resume. The pamphlet included a number to call for past life readings, channeled readings, spirit communications, animal totems, energy balancing, ghost evictions, and animal communications. At this time, I don’t have much need for past life readings or ghost evictions; however, I am kind of intrigued by animal communications.

“Animal Communications are about healing. This takes place in the subtle body of the animal, spreading to their human companions. Increased awareness to the animals’ needs and their purpose is a benefit gained.”

I read all of this and took a good look at my dog Missy as she gnawed on her Nylabone.

“Sucker…I’ll lie here and look like I am all into this and just as soon as that chick leaves to ride her precious horse I am so on the couch.”

I looked over at the other dog as he lounged on his dog bed…

“Ya, AS IF I am supposed to be comfy on this piece of crap. I call the chaise!”

Feeling very increased in my awareness, I bought 2 new dogbeds today.

My main squeeze

2006-01-09T15:53:00.000-06:00

MAG
Originally uploaded by WalkTrotCanter.

He walks, he trots, he canters!!!Finally...A pic of the newest man in my life! Meet Mr. Magoo! His eyes look a bit funky from the flash but he seemed to enjoy our little photo shoot.

I just want to clear the air about Friday

2006-01-08T07:45:00.000-06:00

On Friday afternoons, I usually do my grocery shopping immediately after my riding lesson. The store is conveniently located near the barn so popping in, picking up my items for the week before heading on home seems to work out just fine. One disadvantage of my speedy method of grocery shopping is that I am usually still dressed in my riding clothes while shopping. I don't smell or anything...it isn't like I stomp in horse shit and wander around the fresh veggies, but I do tend to look a bit dusty just from being in the barn.

This past Friday, I was doing my usual *shopping in ridingwear*. I was nearly finished and heading down the dairy aisle when, just ahead of me, I heard "Ohhhhhhhh Daddy!!!" I looked up and there was a man about my age with three little kids. Another kid said, "Awwww Dad...let's get outta here!" I couldn't figure out what had happened until I moved forward and tried to breathe..."Dad" had let off one of those putrid beer or chili farts that was lingering right next to the margarine. As luck would have it, a woman happened to be heading down the aisle right towards me, just as I entered the toxic zone. Me in my dusty riding clothes.

"Dad" and the kids sped off and guess who got the"I can't be-LIEVE you stunk up the refrigerator section you filthy barn rat!" look of sheer disgust?

A very belated holiday review...

2006-01-03T16:14:00.000-06:00

Well, the inflatable Santa, life-sized snowglobe, chaser lights, pine-scented pillows, and NOEL fingertip towels have all been stored neatly in their cheery red and green plastic bins…the holiday season is officially over. YEA!!! (Actually, I never had any of the above…I just like the blogworld to think I get into the holidays like every other red-blooded American and buy the latest and greatest in tacky seasonal items.) I have been the non-blogger for too too long! Not that I have had nothing to write about, it is pure end-of-the-year laziness. That and I have been riding my horse every day for several hours a day. I think I was beginning to get a bit bowlegged so thankfully I am back to work. I am trying not to sit on my deskchair as if it is a saddle…that might get some odd looks from my coworkers.

I have been reading about some of your holidays…you all have these warm, inviting photos to share, silly stories of presents and toys and wonderful trips. Honestly, it is impossible for me to even attempt to top any of that so I will simply review the past couple of weeks in bland list form. You may have the idea I am not very fond of the holidays and you are correct. I don’t detest the merry time of year, I simply get tired of the idea that everything is supposed to be happy, cheery, and tied with festive red ribbons. I do the happy, cheery, red ribbon thing for about a week and then I am broke, crabby, and ready for all of it to end. I do try my best to vew the entire season with humor; however, most of the time I seem to revert back to my usual sarcasm...imagine that. Anyway, back to the list:

H & I celebrated Christmas Eve by munching on Chinese food and watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I fell asleep before my favorite line, “To my big brother George, the richest man in town!” H was happy I was asleep because despite having seen the movie a zillion times, I cry every single time.

On Christmas day, we had my parents and NASCAR brother over for drinks. NASCAR brother brought a jar of North Carolina moonshine he had received as a gift. After tasting it, we all agreed it could probably best be put to use running an automobile. Yikes. On an interesting note, my folks gave H & I a humongous package of homemade sausage as a gift. The thing must weigh about 10 lbs. Knowing I am not a fan of sausage whatsoever, my mother said, “I know you two don’t really eat this, but it will be great to serve when you have people over.” With that amount of sausage, I am thinking we could invite a third world country for a get-together and still send people home with doggie bags.

For the second year in a row, I received no horse-related items as gifts. I give up. Thankfully, I have my own little horse now (YAHOO!) and I am ebaying myself together as far as necessary equipment. As much as I would have LIKED new breeches, a saddle pad, brushes, tall riding boots, a crop, a quilted vest, a titanium helmet, chaps, reins, a snaffle bit, boot socks, and/or a saddle cover, I was a good girl and smiled with thanks for the chocolate fondue set and Dilbert calendar.

H tends to get a bit bummed out on Christmas morning because he would love to have a houseful of kids to wake us with their present-opening anticipation. He has this idea that every other family shares a Norman Rockwell-esque warm fire, well-behaved youngsters, a golden retriever, and a Mrs. Cleaver wife during the holidays. I can’t understand why an icy cocktail, two neurotic poodles, and a wife in riding clothes won’t cut it for him. Anyway, he was feeling his usual we-need-some-kids mood until my brother and his family arrived. By the time our nephew was lounging all over the new sofa eating greasy chicken wings and our niece was projectile vomiting on the new area rug, his tune was rapidly changing to “when can we have our cozy quiet house back”. It was really kind of funny to watch. Poor H and his romantic ideals.

Last of all, it seems our cookies-for-the-neighbors sales tactic worked. We received friendly little cookie-reciprocations from several of the power-washing folks around us. One was even a late Christmas Eve delivery complete with a hearty, “Welcome to the neighborhood!!”. Perhaps they only wanted to get a closer look at Those who don’t decorate the wellhead and Those who don’t extract the unsightly soil from the driveway but the cookies were pretty darn tasty.

By the way, a belated Happy New Year to everyone!

The stockings have been hung on the chimney with care...

2005-12-24T06:21:00.000-06:00

HO HO HO!!!

I have not had much time to blog this week...what with whipping up yummy yule logs, glue-gunning festive baubles for present-wrapping, gathering dried folage for my table's centerpiece, and taking time to shrink wrap gift baskets for the needy, I have hardly had time to do anything. Ya right...let's get serious.

H & I are hanging out at home this weekend...he deserve's a long winter's nap after all of his hard work the past year. (Mainly putting up with me!) *Hanging out* will pretty much involve cocktails, movies, and munching on snacks, as these are a few of our favorite things. We may change out of our sweat pants to walk the dogs if they REALLY have to go. My sis and family from Michigan are arriving on Monday so we will have a houseful of guests. I am making dinner for a crowd on Monday evening...sis, parentals, NASCAR brother, etc., so I have a bit of meal-planning to do...but it will be fun. I am off the entire week so it's time to relax and visit!

The very bestest news of all is that I am now the *leasee* of a lovely chestnut Quarter Horse gelding!!!!!!!!!! It is a bit of a stretch financially but H & I agree it is a good way to start out so we know what owning a horse will cost in the future. I am beyond thrilled...I feel like a 6-year old on Christmas morning, actually! Honestly, I am kind of afraid I will run the poor horse into the ground riding every day...but I was assured he is *healthy as a horse* and he needs to be ridden so there you go.
I'll post a picture so you can all oohh and ahhh about him. He's such the little peach!

Have a safe and happy holiday everyone! Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to All...

2005-12-20T15:41:00.000-06:00

H’s last day of bell ringing at Wal Mart was last week. He has such confidence when he goes into these things. I know he dreamed of his moment of fame when the mysterious gold coin would appear during HIS stint with the bell. I think he had visions of transforming the entire town into a celebratory scene from a Hallmark card as he stood next to his bright red kettle.
Instead, on his last night, he had to move out of the way to make room for the police and ambulance folks to get inside the building to deal with the woman in the wine aisle who smashed a bottle over a guy’s head.

…and to all a good night.

Power Sellers

2005-12-14T12:50:00.000-06:00

Since H and I moved into the neighborhood during what I like to call “The Broiler Portion of Summer”, most of the neighbors were holed up in their air-conditioned homes on the weekends, bar the weekly powerwashing of the driveway by the neighborhood men. The noise of the powerwashers made it somewhat difficult for H and I to introduce ourselves so we normally gave a friendly wave (or hoist of the Miller Lite in my case). The powerwasher-people usually returned the wave, often with a somewhat puzzled look as if to say, “Who are you…you who sit idly while your driveway collects dirt and grime?” Once the powerwashing season was over, the weather got cold and no one came outside so we have not met many neighbors. These people don’t know what they are missing…wait til they find out that H will rake leaves, blow snow, and generally become a cabana boy once he gets to know them. Anyway, we were kind of hoping to get somewhat of a jump-start before next Spring as far as knowing who goes with what powerwasher. We figure maybe they will find us to be somewhat normal despite our unsightly driveway, battlefield themed well-head, and mole-tunnel filled yard. I know, our chances are getting pretty slim…especially since my potted mums on the porch kept falling over and blowing across the yard during my attempt to fit-in and seasonally accessorize this past Fall.

During some discussion the past couple of weeks, we decided we are going to try the direct approach and actively campaign to meet our neighbors during the holidays. Instead of painting holiday-themed signs or whipping something together with felt and a gluegun, we decided to bake cookies and distribute them to the folks on our street. We made several varieties of cookies over the weekend and I purchased snowman-containers and raffia ribbon so we could put our little packages together in deliciously attractive bundles.

H: What do you think I should write on the card?

WTC: Feliz Navidad…then they will think we are foreign and thus don’t know how to powerwash.

H: No, really…

WTC: How about Jesus is the reason for the season! Then they will realize we are religious and can’t do yardwork on Sundays.

H: Will you stop it…they will think we are weird.

WTC: We ARE weird.

“From our powerwasher to yours, H & WTC wish you a very happy holiday”

Another holiday classic from Indiana!

2005-12-13T14:01:00.000-06:00

I may have mentioned previously my *love* for *attractive* Christmas decor and kozy kristmas crafts. A 7’ inflatable Santa, a life sized snowglobe, animated light-up reindeer, cheery glue-gun-assembled wreaths, cornhusk nativity sets…my list of items goes on and on. Screw the classy red bows and lighted garland…I want plastic candy canes, chaser lights, and wreaths on the grille of the car!

After the big Midwest snowstorm last week, H ventured back to our old neighborhood to plow snow for our two neighbor ladies. The two are sisters, in their 50’s, who live together. While we lived on that street, H always raked their leaves and shoveled their walk in the neighborly gestures that make H the nice guy he is. (Amazing that such a giving guy should end up with someone as selfish, sarcastic, and bitchy as me…opposites attract, I guess.) Anyway, since we have moved from the neighborhood, he feels sorry that suddenly these ladies have to fend for themselves during the brutal Indiana seasons of falling leaves and snow. The two ladies were thrilled that H arrived to save the day. He was showered with hot tea and freshly baked cookie treats. He also came home with a gift. A lovely thoughtful and handmade gift.

Knowing my *affection* for tacky craft items, H brilliantly placed the homemade sign at the entrance to our garage. I nearly drove through the garage door when I saw it.

Frosty and Me Welcome Thee!

WTC: “Yikes, where on earth are we going to put that?”
H: “Ummmmmmm, I guess we can’t leave it here by the garage in case they stop over.”
WTC: “Well we can’t put it on the porch or anything, someone might SEE it!”
H: “I know, it isn’t exactly your style unless the Frosty means a nice iced glass of something”
WTC: “Perfect. Let’s put it on the bar, then and call it good.”

Overheard last evening in the Ladies Room of a rather fancy restaurant:

2005-12-11T21:50:00.000-06:00

Oh my god…I am so wasted

Ya, you’re pretty bad

I haven’t had a drink in three years. I’m so wasted.

You drank at last year’s party, didn’t you?

No, I haven’t drank in three years.

But you were so wasted at last year’s Christmas party. That was crazy.

I wasn’t drunk, tho, I just smoked the pot, remember?

Oh ya…right. You are so wasted.

A Kozy Kountry Kristmas

2005-12-07T12:47:00.000-06:00

This past weekend a friend invited me to go with her to the “Annual Christmas Open House Tour” that takes place in a little town not too far from here. Those who participate in the “Open House” are local folks who decorate their homes and sell crafts, baked goods, and gift items. As a visitor, you have a map and you drive from decorated house to decorated house to shop for lovely Christmas goodies in this quaint rural area. As a rule, I should never be invited to go along on one of these things because despite my morphing into Martha the odd time, I am not a fan of crafts. Especially crafts that involve angels, cheap-smelling candles, and Avon gift sets as seemed to be the norm for this particular *Tour*. I do enjoy this friend of mine, however, so I went along like a trooper and tried my best not to be my usual bitchy snob of a self.

The first house was a teensy place with plastic candy canes lining the walk. We entered the house to be greeted by a huge woman sitting on a very puffy sagging couch. Between the couch and the 6' big-screen TV across from it, there was a walkway about six inches wide. We marched in to see what she had on display. There was a lamp made from a cup and saucer, several odd-colored candles in canning jars, and some wire hangers with knitting on them to make them into sort of a padded hanger thing. T-A-C-K-Y. I always feel like I have to say something at this point so I don’t start laughing…so I exclaimed, “How WONderful!” My friend looked at me like I was completely nuts. “Just look at these candles…and how cute is this tea cup lamp?” The lady kept watching her humongous TV so we turned around in-place and headed towards the front door. I uttered the obligatory yet jolly “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” as we proceeded down the candy cane lined path.

Another house (again, this place was teensy) was festively decorated with bows and lights. We were met at the door by a woman with tons of makeup and the largest rear end I have ever seen. She introduced herself and led us by her waddling bum to a kitchen and dining area filled with more knitted hangers and several dishes of food that looked a bit difficult to identify. She exclaimed how she is a Tastefully Simple Rep and this food is sooooooooo fantastic because you never have to add more than one or two ingredients! Not only does she do the home parties, she will take orders DIRECT for all of our favorite foods! “How NICE!” I exclaimed as I viewed her lovely display of pre-packaged foods...all loaded with fat, sodium, and mysterious preservatives that make them so wonderfully yet tastefully simple. I pictured myself suddenly growing an ass as large as hers and I went into a slight panic. "Wow, only two ingredients to add...this stuff looks amazing!" I said with enthusiasm. I am the reigning queen of sarcasm after this day of crafts and festive holiday food.

My favorite house was the “Christmas Cabin”. The place looked like a log cabin kit. Under H’s watchful eye, I have become an unwilliing yet highly educated student of quality house construction. (See blog- Summer, 2005) This most definitely qualified as a homeowner special. H would have marked it with a big red F. The “cabin” was decked out in light pine paneling kind of a tongue and groove look…all decorated in holiday cheer. The “Cabin” ambiance would have had me had it not been for the blue shag carpeting and overstuffed, misshapen couch/loveseat with matching coffee table in the living room. What the hell kind of log cabin has shag carpeting? And cheapy Wickes furniture?? As we proceeded to the dining room/kitchen, the flooring changed to a white linoleum. Not only white linoleum but white linoleum with heat registers cut into the floor. Little House on the Prarie Not. FAKERS, I wanted to scream, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE KIDDING WITH THIS CABIN. Instead, I glowed, “Quite a house…did you build it yourself?”

Just a bit more holiday cheer from rural Indiana. I am so going to burn in hell someday.

You can ring my be...eh...ehll

2005-12-01T14:58:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, H & I were home on a Friday night, having kind of a *cocktails and snacks hour* (formerly known as Happy Hour but now that we are no longer hanging out in bars, we have renamed it to suite our more geriatric at-home theme), and watching TV. As per usual, H had full control of the remote so we were watching nanoseconds of every channel on cable tv. Also as per usual, he stopped at a station that drives me batty, the local cable access channel. It isn’t that I don’t care about all things local; it is more the home-video look of the set. The people, especially the one county sheriff who is the host of most of the shows look washed out, oddly shaped, and generally in ill health due to the low video quality and amateur-ish format. So I hate watching it. Anyway, H’s channel-surfing came to an abrupt halt on this cable channel because it was a show about the local Salvation Army chapter.

H: I thing I wanna ringa bell thisyr.

As if on cue, the washed out oddly shaped sheriff in ill-looking health seemed to have heard H’s drunken proclamation.

WOOSS: Sooo, what’s that number again? Can we put it up on the monitor, Bill?

H: I’ma gonna ringa bell. Wherz thphone?

(Note to self: Do not, I repeat DO NOT sign up for anything having to do with serving the public during *cocktails and snacks hour*!)

Since H was probably the one and only caller that evening, The Captain from the Salvation Army called almost immediately to assign him to a 3-week schedule of bell ringing. At WalMart.

Last night was H’s premier as the WalMart Bell Ringer! After work we went thru a lengthy discussion on whether he should go with the traditional “Merry Christmas” or the more politically correct, “Best wishes for a happy holiday, Christmas, Kwanza, etc.” when he receives a donation in his *kettle*. Of course I suggested he go with a complete religious theme and shout out a hearty “Peace be with you child of the lord!”. H carefully chose his tasteful yet thermo-protective clothing as standing outside WalMart in a north wind calls for some serious layering. He left the house a man determined to spread holiday cheer. And to stay warm.

When he got home, I immediately asked him if we should consider suing the Salvation Army for damages due to carpel-tunnel syndrome in his bell-ringing hand. He stoically said no, but maybe we could do something about the psychological damage of having to watch WalMart patrons for an entire evening. In particular, there was one child who was handed some money by his mother so he could put it in the kettle. H said that as the kid went to put the money in, he FAKED putting it in the slot and kept the money for himself.

Welcome to holiday time in NW Indiana…

It isn't exactly my 100 things but it's a start

2005-11-29T12:43:00.000-06:00

I stole this from Herb...it's kind of fun on a cold grey day.

TEN FIRSTS
First Best Friend: Steven Ellsworth
First Screen Name: Daria…I don’t even know how I came up with that name!
First Pet: I had a turtle named Norman
First Piercing: I got my ears pierced when I was 13 at the Merle Norman store downtown. I got sick to my stomach every time I tried to change the earrings, tho, so I let them grow back. I got them pierced AGAIN as a brave 16 yr old.
First Crush: Ricky Quackenbush. He was a hottie in kindergarden. The name may have been a challenge...WalkTrotCanterQuackenbush...
First CD: I am not sure when the albums/tapes morphed into CD’s…probably something U2.
First Car: 1987 Dodge ColtFirst Stuffed animal: I had this huge stuffed turtle (probably because of Norman) and we kids would often swing him around by his neck and hit each other.
First Kiss: Jamie Broadhurst…it was after a dance in high school. I believe Jamie now lives with another guy in San Francisco.
First Failing Grade: 10th grade geometry. I got a D and nearly had to go into therapy.

NINE LASTS
Last Beverage: Diet Coke/VO last evening
Last Movie Seen: Dreamer
Last Phone Call: A guy asking for a quote
Last Cd Played: LeeAnn Rimes. H had it on in the car and I didn’t know he had taken my CD out so I turned up the volume to “How Do I Live Without You”. Uggh.
Last time you Cried: Last week on the way home from the barn. A woman there just bought a grand prix horse for $26K and I was feeling quite jealous.
Last thing you ate: A strawberry/banana yogurt.
Last bad thing you did: Yelled at H about how he arranged the garage so I can’t back out my car. He was crushed because he thought he had done a great job.

EIGHT HAVE YOU EVERS
Have you ever dated one of your best friends: yes
Have you ever been arrested: no
Have you ever skinny dipped: yes…thank heavens there wasn’t much of an audience!
Have you ever been on tv: Yes
Have you ever kissed someone: Ummmmmm…yes.
Have you ever cheated: in a relationship? Yes…I had been dating my college boyfriend for 3 years and met H on a semester abroad program. I came home engaged to H and had to tell my boyfriend. Bad scene.
Have you ever been in love: Yes
Have you ever been in a car accident: Yes, right after I got my license!

SEVEN THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW
1. A favorite J Jill sweater
2. My obnoxious red Ariat boots
3.Eddie Bauer jeans
4. Gold hoop earrings
5. A bracelet I got from H
6. A white t-shirt
7. A padded bra. I am such a cheater.

SIX THINGS YOU'VE DONE TODAY
1. Drank 2 cups of coffee
2. Took a shower
3. Read the paper
4. Emailed my friend
5. Changed the CD in my car
6. Surfed the internet

FOUR PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ALMOST ANYTHING TO
1. my friend Chrissy
2. my husband
3. my best guy friend
4. Geoff

THREE CHOICES
1. Black or White: Black.
2. Hot or Cold: Cold.
3. Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate

TWO THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE
1. Own a horse. Duh.
2. Stop worrying about my weight.

ONE THING YOU REGRET
I wish I would have taken my time after college to figure out what I wanted to do. All of the sudden I had a job and responsibilities and a husband!

We gobbled and gobbled...

2005-11-29T12:04:00.000-06:00

...and the turkey is all gone! The long Thanksgiving weekend didn’t seem so long. In fact, it seemed to speed by quite fast as most long weekends have a habit of doing.

Our dinner was a rousing success. We ate in the dining room in the lovely ambiance of picture-less Weaver’s Cloth colored walls. (Martha, where are you??) Luckily H had installed a dimmer switch so with the help of candles, it merely looked like a cozy intimate setting as opposed to a very plain, undecorated room. As if on cue, my parents popped over (“We’ll be out of there in a jiffy so you can prepare your meal!”) and stayed for several hours even as I was putting the final touches on some snacks for our dining guests. My dad helped his hungry self as I was slicing and arranging so by the time the guests arrived, the snacks looked a bit snacked-on but that’s ok. It’s the holidays after all. My NASCAR brother was also home and arrived in a blaze of race-season-ending glory. He is in the process of taking a job with another race team so he was full of stories and name-dropping (“yeah, the other night at dinner with Paul Newman…” etc.) Hard to believe I used to change that kid’s diapers.

Friday was interesting. I went to a horse auction in Shipshewana Indiana. Shipshewana is known for its Amish population so usually there are lots of horses and buggies around. I guess the auction is where many of the Amish buy their horses because the place was packed. A friend I was with decided she was going to pick up an Amish guy so she could get a ride in a buggy…so she was flirting the entire time with every man in blue cotton pants and suspenders. She also kept trying to speak Amish-ly by saying “thee” and “thy”. At one point, she said to me, “Get thee over to the concession stand to get thy friend a Coke.” She didn’t pick up any guys, imagine that.

On Saturday I rode my own horse prospect, Whiskey…whose name is actually Risky but I like Whiskey better because Risky makes him sound dangerous and, well, I am a chicken so why even go there. In a scene much like Cinderella, I found that my saddle fits him to a T! I am happy to say all went well and I walked and trotted without too much trepidation. YEA! This one could be a keeper…stay tuned.

One quick note, today is Missy’s birthday. You know, my bionic million dollar poodle with the magically cured eyes. She is 3 years old this day. Happy Birthday Missy! I’d give you a card with some money or a gift but I can’t afford it since your surgeries just about put us in the poorhouse. Instead, we’ll do some serious MilkBones tonight! :)

Gobble Gobble, etc.

2005-11-23T11:54:00.000-06:00

I have not had time to blog lately…what with all of my sewing, knitting, and decorating projects for the holidays. Stringing popcorn and dried berries, spritzing the fresh garland on the mantle, setting up the snowglobe collection, and inflating the super-sized Santa for the front yard keeps a girl busy! It is so hard to be Martha. Not really…I have just not been home and during work I have been, well, working. Instead of blogging. So here is a brief recap so you can get thru the Thanksgiving holiday knowing WalkTrotCanter is still alive and kicking.

1) I looked at a horse last weekend. I actually just did it for kicks because it was close by and the horse is selling for cheap. I figured it would be good practice in horse-trading. WELL, not only did I like the horse, I was completely unafraid and got on him bareback! I am going to ride him in my saddle this weekend to see how it goes that way. He is a bay (which is dark brown with a black mane/tail) with a white star on his forehead. Cute Cute Cute! Also, his name got me…they call him Risky but I misunderstood the woman on the phone so I thought his name was Whiskey. It's carma I tell you.

2) H & I are having our first company over to the house for Thanksgiving! It has been very exciting to prepare for this because it meant that H got a bunch of stuff finished that was un-done…such as hanging towel bars, bathroom mirrors, and finishing a built-in bookcase which is really nice now that it is not a gaping hole in the wall that spews drywall dust every time we walk by. YEA! I am a little nervous about the cooking aspect of the visit/visitors. I am a decent cook but I always get a little tense when I am cooking for others.

3) I found the best product ever! Did you know they make paper shades for windows that look, from the outside, like real pleated shades? They are fabulous! I was wondering, with the whole horse budget and all, how the heck we were going to cover the windows…especially in the rooms we don’t even use. Now we can just use the paper ones until we move…er, I mean, until the end of time…er, I mean until we can afford (hahahahahahahahaha) real shades. Do you think houseguests will mind terribly that they are sleeping in a room with paper shades protecting them from the neighborhood eyes? Geez I am cheap.

4) I finally found all of my winter clothes. I had them stored at various places all over town. Some were packed away during the entire winter last year so it is like having a completely new wardrobe! I have an awful lot of sweatshirts.

5) There doesn't seem to be as much going on in my life to blog about as I thought when I started this list. Cheap girls with lots of sweatshirts don't have much of a life. Oh well, best wishes for a safe and happy and healthy holiday!

Life Insurance 101

2005-11-14T15:30:00.000-06:00

Now that we are 40-somethings and home owners and deeply in debt, H & I decided it was time to make sure we are on the right track as far as retirement, life insurance, and all things involving how we will pay for our lives in the nursing home. This stuff is not interesting and costs money without any fun involved whatsoever so we had been putting it off. Needless to say, we had opened a couple of insurance policies back in the 1980’s (when we were newly married, anxious to dive in to our life ahead and when we still somewhat liked each other…j/k!!) and kind of left it at that for nearly 20 years. I guess we figured we had plenty of time to make millions in our careers and save enough money for our later years. I think we are now realizing we are soon going to be old fogies and we are not even near the million-dollar bracket. Duh. So anyway, we went to our insurance agent the other night to get things *organized*.

One item we discussed was life insurance. The big question being, what amount of life insurance do we need or require? Since I am the one who handles all of the bills and H has pretty much avoided the whole household finance thing from day one unless it involved budgeting for a new tool or construction project, this got kind of interesting.

Insurance Guy: H, how much money do you want WTC to have if something happens to you? Think now about funeral expenses, paying off debt, and living expenses for her when you are no longer around…

H: $3,000.

Insurance Guy: $3,000? With 3 zeros?

H (looking completely clueless but trying to sound like he knew exactly what he was saying): Yes…that should be plenty, don’t you think?

Insurance Guy: I’m glad I am not married to you.

WTC: Welcome to my world.

After we discussed my living in complete poverty upon his untimely death thus convincing H that perhaps he may want to up his dollar amount if he wants hot meals and clean laundry (not to mention sex) for the remainder of his living days, we moved on to rates for the life insurance policy amounts we had finally chosen. There were three categories of rates: Smoker/Drinker/GoingToDie, OverweightMiddleAgedButNonSmoker, and ExtremelyHealthyMustEatGrapeNutsAndTofuandJogSeveralMilesDaily. After showing us the rates, Insurance Guy made a major faux paux:

Insurance Guy: Here is the SuperPreferred-Almost Free Rate that WTC will receive since she falls into the ExtremelyHealtyMustEatGrapeNutsAndTofu category. I don’t think she will even need the physical…we’ll just put her right into that one…geez, how many miles do you run a day? Hmmmmmm…H, I am pretty sure you will need the physical. You don’t smoke, do you?...welllllll, we’ll put you in OverweightMiddleAgedButNonSmoker and see what happens. You may be on the line of Smoker/Drinker/GoingToDie but we’ll see.

H got this horrified look on his face and I believe I saw steam coming from his ears. He knows full well that I am the one who not only smoked for several years but he can literally set the clock by my cocktail hour. There is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY he can possibly be in a higher category than me. I smiled smugly and wholeheartedly agreed with Insurance Guy.

This week, while we wait for the health-screening folks to call us, H is in all-out health and physical fitness mode. He has exercised, shunned alcohol, and has eaten oatmeal for nearly every meal. He is utterly determined to be in the same category as me and completely defy Insurance Guy. Meanwhile, I stand by with my martini and dream of how I will spend my well-earned $3,000.

Little House on the Mole Hill

2005-11-07T15:23:00.000-06:00

With the ever-increasing challenge of making our new house feel *homey*, H & I are pondering the what/where/how of landscaping for the outside of the place. We figure if we start now we MAY have some kind of plan together by the time we actually have to make the trip to the garden center in the Spring to purchase trees and any other organics that will take little or no regular maintenance aside from my standing on the sidewalk with a Miller Lite showering them with the hose. The yard is rather large, a little under an acre, so there is a lot of room for a lot of whatever it is we decide to plant. During the summer, while the house was still progressing, we *seeded* the yard. This was H’s great plan. He figured if we seeded the lawn, we wouldn’t have an entire winter of mud and we could then take our time with any landscaping. The neighbors, he figured, would be happy enough to see that, despite the fact that we seemingly have no theme for our wellhead other than “raging battlefield", we at least had the courtesy and fortitude to plant grass seed. (I think we may have had them a little on edge ever since the day H pulled his rusty 1987 GMC truck up to the front door to unload some things and he ended up leaving it there for several days. As these people power-washed their driveways, they turned the evil eye to our unsightly plot of land and whispered among themselves.) Thus, we spent a trillion dollars on KentuckyBlueGrassGrowLikeHellIntoALushAndGolfcourseLikeLawn. The grass grew, albeit 75% crabgrass…but it is green and, from a distance, looks somewhat lawnlike. To the untrained eye, at least.

Last weekend, H came running inside to inform me that we have moles. “Moles, WTC, they are RUINING our lawn!” He was all in a tither that the nasty little creatures were tunneling here and there and over and across in what looks to be a rather extensive condominium development complete with health club and pool. There are even a few volcanic-like areas where the moles popped their heads up from their burrowing to see where they were. (“Hey Al, I’m just gonna go a few more feet til I am even with the cable box, ok?” “Then we’ll break for lunch and maybe go for a beer.”)

So H was all upset about this new mole population and he insisted I go to the internet to see how to eliminate the problem. In my research, I found that the BEST way to COMPLETELY rid a yard of moles is to KILL them. The best method for KILLING them is to IMPALE them. The IMPALING can be executed either from a trap set in the ground in mid-tunnel, or by driving a shovel right down into the tunnel as the little guy burrows on by, (OMG) thereby IMPALING with one’s own yard tool.

I say we spend the money for traps or we really impress the neighbors and somehow incorporate the whole impaled-mole theme into a decoration for the well head.

The Happy Couple

2005-10-29T15:16:00.000-05:00

The Happy Couple
Originally uploaded by WalkTrotCanter.

We had a lovely day for the pet Halloween party. AND, we remain the champs! YEA...Mommy really IS Martha Stewart! Mr. P and Missy won the "Cutest Small Dog" category. We came home with a basket of dog toys and treats for our prize. I think that calls for celebration...what's a wedding without a drunken member of the wedding party...

Nothing But Net

2005-10-28T10:04:00.000-05:00

I don’t know about people sometimes. They really amaze me as to how narrow-minded they can be. I hate to sound like an old fogie but it has scared me on more than one occasion what little attention some folks pay to things outside their little bubble of a world. I am hardly one who travels the globe but I do make an attempt to learn about what is happening in the world. Heck, if you just turn on public radio for a week you can get caught up on what’s going on as far as all things political…and it is explained in neat, understandable little packages. The world is wacky enough so it scares me when, for example, a couple of weeks ago, a person well into voting age (who by the way expressed his unwavering support of a certain Republican President last November) asked me who Condoleezza Rice was. I guess maybe is just isn’t that important to know the key players who represent the United States to the rest of the world. It is, in this guy’s case, much more interesting and important to know every detail about his Sony Hi-Definition Plasma TV with Surround Sound he purchased at Best Buy. Anyway, I digress…what I am getting at in my many words is that I often wonder where people are and what the hell they are thinking that makes them do the things they do. Here is an example that came up last night. It is kind of a funny visual but a bit disturbing at the same time:

H, in the little time he takes to tear himself away from all things work related, volunteers at a local shelter for abused women. Many of the women who end up there have kids and H helps the kids with homework, plays games, reads, etc. while their mothers are busy getting counseling and trying to make their lives better. He loves kids so this is the perfect way for him to help out while doing something he really enjoys. It is also good for the kids because they are getting a positive male role model in their sometimes very messed-up lives.

Last night, upon his return from the shelter, H told me about a new guy at the shelter who is supposed to be a Child Advocate. This means he is there to make sure the children, who have often been abused themselves, are put on some path of recovery depending on what has gone in their lives. H’s description of the new guy was, “just out of college, thinks he knows everything, and wears those baggy pants that show his butt crack”. (H spares no words.) H said that last night, he and the kids were playing basketball when *new guy* said he would play too. The kids were all under 10 years old and H had been playing so that each one got to have the ball and take a shot. H was acting like he was working really hard and the kids were enjoying the fact that they were winning…everyone was all smiles. Apparently, *New guy* joined in and started playing like it was the NBA. He was taking jump shots and running over kids to “get to the net”. Instead of giving the kids a playful confidence builder, this *Child Advocate* was becoming the star player. It was all about HIM! H said he even made the last shot, a slam-dunk into the child-sized net. Fun times, I am sure, for these kids who have, in the past few days, seen their father beat the crap out of their mom, had to leave their home with the clothes on their backs, and had to live in a shelter so their mom can figure out what to do so they will be safe. It sounded a little like a skit on Saturday Night Live…which I’ll bet this *Child Advocate”* watches. On a High Definition Sony with Surround Sound.