Catch up from the sick bay

You'd think that, on day five or six or something of being placed in medical house arrest, I would have poured forth on a number of subjects in at least one of the three blogs I frequent from time to time. Instead, I've resigned to sleeping, trolling the internet for any Facebook activity from people I stopped conversing with years ago, horse training articles, scummy entertainment stories and Jezebel insight, eating anything gelatinous or squishy or soupy that didn't fry my throat, and occasionally wandering into the bathroom for a wash up.

Anyway, I got really sick two weeks and some change ago. I've been frazzled and stressed for.. not sure, since Christmas? But knew I was headlong for an illness coming into May. I hope we aren't running the same schedule next spring. I love my work in nearly all ways, but I found myself questioning it more than I would care to say throughout the spring. And just as staff training was gearing towards the arrival of children, I tanked and a lot of bloodwork and ER trips and things later, still no real answers, but a different concoction of drugs and I see the light at the end of this rashy, throat-closing ordeal.

I miss my horse. Horses, really, but I definitely lost out on a great experience taking Bandit to the dressage clinic at Silver Oaks. I went down to feed last night, against the ol' doctor's orders, and all I wanted to do was stick my face in his neck. Uncharacteristically, he obliged and didn't even sidle.

Got to visit a gorgeous barn in Pipe Creek-- Happy Heart Ranch-- with Tiffany last Saturday. Whenever I waver on staying in the horse industry as a job, I realize that someday I could run something private like that-- maybe not as an owner, but a foreman or full-time instructor. That would be amazing. I do like the Y though. Just not so much the trapped feeling of weekends.

Scoot is doing well. I should make him a video.

My mom was here yesterday. Brightened everything up and I owe some of my rejuvenated spirit to her. Plus she just finished my painted spur straps; can't wait to see.

I'm putting a moratorium on visitors to El Tiny Casa de McGibbon until at least October. Minus any major crises that leave friends without a home temporarily (and two of you know exactly who you are.) But we are going to take some vacations for the next few months that don't involve cleaning and stressing. I absolutely love having friends make the drive here, but we (and by 'we' I mean 'I') overestimated the amount of visitors last spring among the work load we were handling. Pants-free lazy afternoons are crucial to our marriage in the least sexual of ways. This has been the first week in months I've been forced to relax, be it in coma or in boredom. It has been good. Also haven't been wearing a lot of pants. Also good. Next week, to strap on the denim and riding tights for the next seven weeks straight. Bring it.

Updates, late April

As I'm typing this, Burd, our Quaker Parrot, is bathing himself in the gallon-sized dog water dish on the floor. Our two (now two, count them) dogs are watching in half interest as he nearly drowns himself with every gargly dunk. Normally Burd gets a shallow Tupperware dish with lukewarm-to-toasty water only a couple of inches deep for his private shower time, but he's braving a good five inch swimming pool at the moment of icy-cool fresh doggie water. Now he's scuttling across the floor, wet wings spread, shucking all need for flight (even though he is fully feathered) and ignoring entirely the two dogs watching his duck walk. Lemon is flying over, checking on him. Her long, yellow top knot has been nibbled and yanked down to a few short, sad gold feathers sticking straight off her head— Burd seems jealous of her headwear and has been removing her plumage whenever he feels the urge to be vindictive. Despite that and the occasional velociraptor-style argument, they have become good friends.

A lot of stuff has changed since my last post.

Perhaps not most importantly, but must noticeably is the addition of Scoot, an 11-week-old bicolor Australian Shepherd puppy who is currently sprawled on the floor next to me, chewing on his third favorite playtoy, a roll of purple duct tape. The reason I think he likes it so much is that it can't move very far for him to sink his teeth into, even on the cool, glossy tile— Scoot lost much of the function in his hind end due to an attack from his sire as a 4 week old puppy. His movement is sadly a bit limited. He was bred by a place called Texas Aussies, interestingly enough located in the vicinity of Chicago, Illinois. His name was originally Arrow, which seemed fortuitous considering he would end up at YMCA Camp Flaming Arrow, but now goes by Scoot, for obvious reference to his choice of locomotion. Our friend Ellen brought him down last Tuesday via American Airlines. Since that time, he has progressed from only a few moments of looking like a half-normal quadruped and standing on all fours to being able to drunkenly stumble after Dick and I. He will likely not recover full use of his back legs, but thanks to a fairly proactive breeder and now some tough love and a lot of swimming lessons with us down here in Texas, I think he is going to continue to improve to a point where he can get around on his own, albeit not gracefully. Richard was in the market for a "truck dog" to tag along with him to work sites, and looks as though he's got his mate. Hop is resigned to the idea and seems to benefit in the long run— currently Scoot is dozing on the tile floor whilst Hop enjoys one of Scoot's many chew bones while nestled in the fuzzy faux shearling of Scoot's new bed. Our goals now are to get him more mobile (check) and get some weight on him— plain Greek yogurt and Taste of the Wild kibble, with a smattering of Hop's Wolf King huge-honkin' dog food bites to spice things up.

Scoot collapses a bit and makes some people gasp and sigh and claim they want to cry, but he is good-natured, happy, bright, and an excellent sport about the whole "being crippled" thing. We do our best to exhaust him every day, and he sleeps well through the night cuddled up in our bed. No accidents in the house to report yet, but I think you can thank the breeder more than us for that. I'm really excited to have another lifetime dog, and I think he can certainly become as good a dog as Hop, if not the same athlete. Dick is absolutely in love with him; he hasn't had a puppy in ages and I suppose this is the first one that belongs entirely to him. We have gotten a few questions regarding our sanity in adopting an animal with obvious and possibly devastating special needs (the prognosis is cautiously optimistic, but not entirely rosy.) I can't say those doubts are unfounded, but I've also found the joy of owning a puppy is a hundred percent greater when you get to see him strengthen and grow in many ways outside of the norm. If you can think of things as predestined, (and I don't always, despite a lot of either good luck or karma) he was absolutely meant to be here.



My dad died a week ago last Friday. He would have been 85 and a half today (not that you get around to celebrating halfsies when you're past twelve, but still somewhat momentous.) He was dealing with long-term congestive heart failure and acute arthritis in his back, and looked to his family and a lot of prayer and close talks with his God as he grew closer to death. My mom definitely misses him; he was in all ways her best friend. I miss him, at least in the way I most remember him. He was ready to move on and if anyone was excited to find out the whole dealio with Heaven, it was my dad. Still sucks sometimes. But it is amazing who actually comes out of the proverbial woodwork to support you during these sorts of things; I am definitely surrounded by people who care, and those who seem awkward about saying anything are easy enough to forgive. If my dad left me with any legacies, they would be threefold— 1. The urge to make pictures that make people happy, 2. The understanding of what a good spouse can and should be, and 3. Realizing that there is no excuse to be unfriendly or act unloving. I cannot and have not always acted upon those three things, but they are intrinsic and they are all part of my Poppa.

The horses are all good. Had a blast with Ellen playing cowgirl and charging up hills and fording the river on horseback for the first time this year. Ellen, from Illinois-ish area where it seems overly cold and damp, is a friend I originally connected with probably at age 12 or 13 through the AOL online message board community of eons past— we were both horse crazy and fell into the same clique of pony-fueled girls who still keep in touch more than a dozen years later thanks to the miracle of Facebook. Though she and a handful of the other girls made a ridiculous and wonderful pilgrimage to our wedding in 2009, this past week was the first time I'd gotten to spend a true chunk of time with her, and it was effortless and fun and full of laughter and chatter, despite the heft and weight of the week she arrived. (Arrangements to fly Scoot down were in the process as my father passed away; we went ahead with things and she pitched in to help my mom and grandma as well as play in the dirt and river with us back at camp.) I do, however, blame her for making me go back and look at my LiveJournal rantings and immediately plant my face in my hands. Alas. ;) Love her much. I rarely get to the end of an extended visit and feel like I already miss that person, and that thought struck me pretty hard as I left the San Antonio Airport last Friday.

Feeling very discouraged about NATRC. It pains me not to get to go to any rides, really, and I hate to feel like I'm half-assing anything. I don't want to go to one ride, alone, and leave my work to someone else— and then not be able to attend anything else for God knows how long. I suppose it just needs to sit on the back burner and wait for.. when? 2012? Probably not. 2013? It's perhaps awkward in that I feel like the only person close to my age (not technically a child still, and no actual children of my own, so sometimes I feel like the only competitor making excuses about my schedule) but the experience and the people and the sore butt at the end of a 40 mile weekend absolutely got me pumped to ride competitively for the first time in a lifetime of horsemanship of one color or another. But the catch twenty-two is that I can't leave my job, which is primarily on the fair-weather weekends of Texas falls and springs, to go do competitive rides.. and I can't afford the rides without the security of a job and a place to keep and train my horses. That said, I wouldn't trade my job for anything either at the minute (except perhaps somewhere with a real house and a little acreage of our own) and look forward to hopefully a lifetime in this field. I just can't help but envy the schedule of a private camp and feel a little hopeless at the thought of no more CTRs for a very long while. I am purposefully skipping the Wimberly Wayfarer for a great friend's birthday and have no regrets about that; honestly, though, it partially has to due to the fact that I looked at my schedule and saw there was no point in pushing my finances and our vehicle when it would be a strain on my job, my friendships, Richard couldn't come, and I wouldn't exactly be aiming for any more rides in the fall. I think that is the conclusion of my emo rant, and I will feel better after our next dressage lesson (which of course I haven't prepared for in a week) and having something else to aim for.

In other hobbies.. We have been swimming every day for nearly a week now. Feels wonderful. I have the urge to try and do the lifeguard swim test (sans the rescues and things— just the 500 m swim) by the beginning of summer, and between dog swim time and just general joy of being outside in the spring swelter, I am getting enough exposure to maybe bring myself to that point. My legs are also tan. This is exciting.

I'm tan, I'm fitter. I'm still missing my Daddy, but even more in love with my sweet spouse every day. Our house is full to the brim with animals. The horses and the kids who come with them consume most of my time. The stress of this time of the year can push camp people to the point of being nutty, but at the same time, they can show absolute love and selflessness when you least expect it.

B.C.— Before camp.

Today was the end of my week of training my new Wrangler. Her name is Tiffany and she's fantastic. She can ride, she can work, and she just seems to have a good soul.. if that makes sense. I'm just thrilled to have her around for the summer.

Tonight, Ryne and I took the majority of the international staff, plus a couple of new faces and an Ad Staff member, to Sonic and Wal Mart. Completely benign trip that I've taken eight dozen times in the past five summers, but it all hit me as I ran into CLJ boy after CLJ boy at the Supercenter— that was entirely my life and my favorite place, despite all the moral conflicts I had with some of the atmosphere and a few of the people. But to turn around and proudly introduce them to Ryne, and to our new CFA stafff— who, by the way, are FANTASTIC; the energy and the atmosphere that's being felt so early on is energizing— felt good. And I had good things to say about CFA without even thinking. And I'm proud of what I'm doing. Someday, yeah, I do want to be Wrangler Dave to some population. In effect.

Too little thought is going into this, as my good-natured husband and our pup are both in bed already and I want to join them. But the vibes I feel from this place as I begin to see it from the eyes of a summer person warm up my insides. I'm excited to share my horses and my energy and all the stupid songs and skits and dog-and-pony-shows we've learned to perform. I miss and love and think so fondly on the people I met just down river a ways.. But I'm ready for a-hundred-and-five-degree life on this section of the Guadalupe. These are good people, and I have a side of me that rarely saw the light of day at CLJ that I hope is what people remember about me here.

Happy summer.

Bring it on.

Camp kicks into high gear this afternoon, as the riding staff arrives for training tonight and everyone else should be ready on Wednesday for the full staff events to begin. Next Sunday will see herds of boys (and parents; gack!) and then I suppose we will be in full swing.

Richard arrives tomorrow. I always get a tiny bit nervous about his flights, but no overwhelming anxiety. It will feel a relief on all levels to just have him back again, with the shaky promise (come on now, US Immigration) that he'll never have to leave again. Kara came yesterday, which was exciting and I feel like any worries I had about being friends-with-an-internet-friend seem to be for naught. She is very cool. The horses are ready. Wedding plans are not, but I've left my mother with some creative projects for the effort and my dad with hotel and food concerns. Bandit's goofy eye is fixed and though he isn't quite where I'd like him, weight-wise, he is fifteen now and deserves some allowances.

City Year is a go. I spoke with John, who will be one of the senior staff / team leaders, so to speak, next year and that conversation gave me some renewed energies for the service year. Watching some of the PSAs on YouTube had me a little nervous that I was the wrong sort, or too old, or perhaps not a perfect fit for the organization, but it seems like I was well wrong in that thinking. I'm looking forward to the challenges of working with a wide assortment of people, and happy at the thought of meeting those kids.

I'm off to go pick up some staff at SA International, and then my mind is sadly going to be lost to June second when Richard gets here.. Hopefully with some British chocolate and the new Dave Matthews Band CD in tow. He has learned well the lesson on how to appease a girl.

A mixed weekend

So this was our first father-son weekend of the spring and if I do say so myself, all was a success. Of course there's some interesting, larger-than-life dads and beyond-amusing-into-the-realm-of-wow-you're-going-to-be-an-overly-exciting-camper-to-be-around sons, but overall, the families were wonderful. There were two boys especially that absolutely had my heart; they were precious— but little boys will do that to you! I belayed on the rock wall all morning without gloves, which was stupid as the ropes were filthy, but I enjoy belaying more and more every chance I get at it. The afternoon was riding, which is always frustrating but, in my opinion, rewarding. We were short on riding staff but it worked. Bandit was fairly good for the first half but his mind was elsewhere the latter part of the afternoon— he spazzed out and broke a four-horse-long string of dallied horses and I was annoyed. But alas, it's been a month since I've been on him. He's in good condition on that senior feed; I need to take pictures. He looks wonderful at fifteen! Ahh.. he turned fifteen this week.. Wow. I've had him since he was barely six.

Anyway, the rest of today was rock wall belay again, some clean-up, and lots of sitting around and talking. Pretty easy if I do say so myself, and I even got a little paycheck which should pay for Hop's vet checkup this month and the fact that my car needs crap done to it. Boo.

Kate, Drew, Matt (a younger guy from Alamo Heights), and eventually Kile all helped out for the weekend. It ended up being a really fun group despite seeming like an odd dynamic on the outset. Virgin strawberry margaritas will always make me laugh now.

Hopalong thought Father-Sons were amaaazing. Found out that he gets to stay through the summer definitely, which I'm vastly excited about. He almost went down the waterslide, ran through the dining hall during lunch, humped Kiley during the rock wall morning, stole a box of graham crackers and two Hershey's bars during campfire and ate them, and lifted his leg and marked a "tree" which actually turned out to be a kid army-crawling around in the grass in a camouflage coverall. Overall a success and he was very well-liked.

Sad, though, is Molly's condition. She spent a lot of the weekend asleep on my porch (I made her a bed out of some fake sheepskin material and two dry bags) and has trouble getting up or walking or anything else. One kid asked why we were letting a dog starve to death— she does look awful. I didn't expect my own reaction, though, when Scott and I cajoled her to get off my porch and drive home with his family— he told the quaking-legged Molly to "say goodbye" to me and I absolutely lost it. Can't even tell you exactly why, but I sobbed for a good half-hour. I wasn't as worked up about my grandad's death at the actual time. She was such a wonderful dog, so, goodbye, Molly. I'm glad Richard is out in the world to field my hysterical phone calls at 2 in the afternoon on a Sunday. Gosh, I do miss him.

Ever so ready for summertime. (Or getting there!)

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Originally uploaded by topochicovase

Yesterday and today —and likely as not, tomorrow and the next and on into the weekend— were filled with moving horses from their winter pastures and back to camp, and getting everyone set for Father-Son weekends which start this Friday. Nobody put up any fuss except Smokey, an old black BLM mustang, who plum half-reared when I tried to move him away from his buddies. We had a very minor come-to-the-Lord-almighty meeting and I got him moved out a ways and then took him back— he's a line horse, always has been a line horse, well into his teens or early twenties, and I'm not going to spend days and injuries trying to fix a horse who does his job well but little else. Maybe that doesn't speak much for my perseverance, but I also know what battles to fight and which to express an opinion on and step back aways.

I think I'm going to back off of uploading Facebook pictures for awhile, unless they're party shots ripe for tagging. (And exactly how many parties have I attended since last summer? Yup, a whopping one or two, I think. Tops.) It never stops annoying me that they get reduced down to no quality. That said, I've only been using my sorry little water/shockproof Olympus for all of these photos recently— it does a fair job, but I need to get back to learning the new dSLR! I think I'm still bitter about the loss of my last one (RIP Pentax, my first love) and haven't really put much effort into gaining ease of use with the new cam.

So, woot! Flickr! See more shots from the sunny stables today.

Happy Easter/Benevolent-Zombie-Jesus Day!

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Originally uploaded by topochicovase

Nothing says "Easter" more than a half-shaved, googley-eyed monster in your garden.

Easter was good. No two ways about it. At my 645 wake-up call, the pouring weather and thunderclaps felt a bit grim, but all was wonderful and springy by noon and I could wear a turquoise eyelet shift Richard bought for me last summer and feel warm. We picked up Grandma and visited Grandad's crypt and then had a family meal at my Aunt and Uncle's. I got to meet my second-third-fourth-something-twice removed-dunno little cousin Luke for the first time; he's almost three and precious. Apparently he loves horses and has been riding before so I'm hoping he'll come out and ride Bandit some weekend.

Besides that, napped, played with the dogs, ate my weight in chocolate eggs and bunny M&Ms and Dove chocolate rabbits, and finished up the first planting in the backyard. Hopalong helped with the digging. Obviously there's a long way to go, as evidenced from the pictures, but it's a good start. Even though I've spent so much time working around gardeners and naturalists and biologists and those kinds, this is my first self-attempt at a big planting and it's a bit exciting. I wish I could be home more for the next month to see how things pan out.

It came to my attention today that there's about six or seven weeks until I need to have All The Wedding Crap In Line. Because camp starts, and then we transcend to another planet devoid of constant internet access, spare minutes to spend tasting cake, and most of the natural freedoms folks in first-world nations enjoy. This has only brought upon a mild panic, but.. hmm. Might ought to get on that?

Father Son retreat weekends start this Friday, and I'm quite excited to see Kate this weekend and Kile, Tobbe, Brett, Drew, and others in the following weekends. This week is going to be full of hauling horses in from winter pasture and throwing a saddle on them all before kids ride on Saturday, which means afternoons at the barn, which I'm pretty content about. Busy, yes, but in the stables is a-ok by me. Bandit may be a bit neglected, but that's certainly the nice thing about having a horse in his mid-teens.. The rollercoaster of behavior between being worked and off days is much milder. I know I can hop on him in a month and he's going to be pretty steady.

6.5 weeks until Richard comes to the U.S.!

Currently making me laugh: British comedian Charlie Broker discussing the variety show that is Fox News.

Life Update in 90 Seconds

If you're catching up or care to know:

1. My full-time internship at La Junta ends 7 August.
2. I'm out of university a year now, at age 22.
3. Looked at several outdoor education jobs for next year. Ran into difficulty because of housing and Richard's lack of work permit / green card 'til December. Frustration, tears, throwing things, etc.
   
4. Was made aware of AmeriCorps City Year program from a good girl friend. Went through the application / interview process, was accepted. Decided it almost wasn't worth it (my heart was set on PeaceCorps and had been so since early high school.)
5. Changed my thinking. Did more reading on City Year. I'm committed for 2009 - 2010 and thoroughly and completely ready.
6. Will finish the summer running the stables and being part of the camp program staff. Possibly last (and fourth) summer here = sadness.
7. Getting married to pretty awesome person on 14 August, a Friday. Super-brief honeymoon plans involve camping gear, canoe, and Silly Yellow Dog.
8. Plan to move to inner-city San Antonio if not by August, then by December, once Richard can work. It'll be my first time in the middle of a big city— but I'm ready.
9. After City Year? I'd like a camp / outdoor ed. job out-of-state for a few years. Possibly seasonal traveling.