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.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Somebody up there likes me...sort of
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.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
It's just stuff to me but at least it makes me smile :)
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
On life after the Life Insurance
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!
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, June 07, 2009
Sunday Morning Coffee
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.
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.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Weekend Update
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? :)
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? :)
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Some initial thoughts to get the conversation started
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.
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
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
of wine, martinis, bones, and the ex-con
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.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
2 Decades of Bliss (...and a Chalupa to go)
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…!!
Monday, August 06, 2007
George is not a Genuine Draft
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**
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**
Friday, July 13, 2007
Just fitting in!
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.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
And I now refer to H as John Boy...
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.
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.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Now for some International, Faith-Based riding
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Morning traffic
Yep, the commute this morning was rather hectic...
Happy hump day from the land of corn.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Moving forward...somewhat
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Flicka? Where have you been?
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?
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?
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Riding On!
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.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
...and a heated tack room!
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!
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!
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