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.

?

Why am I so lucky in life?

Video Update— Scoot, Day 10

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.

The Pierly/Redford Dissociative Affect Diagnostic Test

The Pierly/Redford Dissociative Affect Diagnostic Test

You have a poetic sensibility and an ability to see beyond the day to day. You often seem to be living in a higher realm, or to be not-of-this-earth. Occasionally you imagine interior lives for friends and associates that are near-complete fabrications based on your fears or hopes for the future. You are often not aware of your own feelings. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, and because of this are often disappointed. Despite what can sometimes be a destructive inward-turning anger, you are very gentle. You are sometimes a bit out of touch with the ebb and flow of modern life. If your behavior is out of synch with your moral values, a severe psychic disturbance can result. Because connectivity is so important to you, you can become quiet and sulky if you feel that others around do not understand your point of view.

Relatively dead-on, but what does it mean?! Hah. Crazy test. Thanks, Luby.

A Few Notes on When Someone's Dying

1. Asking "How are you feeling today?" is possibly the most obvious thing one wants to say when encountering a loved one with limited time left. It is also, I now believe, one of the most trying things that person has to hear. I now desperately try to have another benign question in my arsenal before coming for a visit. Few people like to be reminded that they feel like utter shit.
2. The tears and such come at obnoxious and relatively dicey moments. I can sit through a morphine-fueled rambling about contemplating suicide and plaster a smile; I can talk funeral plans; I can update most friends and family with a level tone. But in the middle of a meeting, when something thoroughly unrelated but semi-stressful comes up, I'm reduced to sobbing in a corner. Or when my mother, who has gone from educator to nursemaid with all the compassion in the world, says the tiniest, grinding, off-handed thing and I have to go sit in the bathroom with the door locked and shake.
   
3. You can handle a lot more than you might've thought possible. Still sucks, though!
   
4. It's okay to be completely annoyed, internally, at other people's struggles when somebody you know is struggling with end of their life. It can be socially acceptable to act on this annoyance. It is a true calling to be above those sentiments, and attempt to put love and time in every other interaction, no matter how miniscule.
   
5. It truly is up to God, or a god, or the Universe, or whatever you brand it as. People asking about timelines are facetious and pandering at best; and other times anxious and uncomfortable with sadness.
   

If the conversation is open

As progressive Catholics we seek to bridge the gaps that divide Church and society. We invite all to take part in the dialog regardless of gender, age, social status, education, ethnic identity, sexual orientation, level of affluence, etc. The religious experience of each human being is valuable. Only if the conversation is open to all concerned parties can any semblance of consensus be achieved.

The Progressive Catholic Voice

Dryer Lent.

I decided to retro Catholic-school-girl-days it with Lent this year, and actually Give Something Up. And I picked Junk Food.

I realize— sort of a shifty and overzealous goal at first look. But I define "junk" as:

1. No discernible nutritional value.
2. Moderate-to-highly processed.
3. Including high fructose corn syrup.
4. Relatively high calorie.
5. Not including diet soda. (Yeah yeah yeah.. I know.)

And so far, so good. I have had a couple of homemade cookies, some frozen yogurt, and I would eat a small piece of dark chocolate if it crossed my path. Giving up all sweets would absolutely kill me, and for the same reason, I still drink diet soda. It is most difficult when faced with greasy bagged potato chips or bags of M&Ms, or when the twinge hits me to get french fries as an afternoon snack. I can binge like a pro, and lately, especially when I get stressed and hurried, I notice more and more bad, processed foods slipping in my hands.

In addition to Giving Something Up, I'm also adding. My friend Ryne takes that approach and I think it is a more positive way to observe Lent anyway. So, I got a dorky pedometer and make sure and take 10,000 steps a day.

It's funny how bad my mental calculations on how far I've walked are. On days where I have a handful of lessons to teach, I probably clock 13,000 steps without even trying. I had no idea I walked that much. Unfortunately, on days when I'm working in the office or traveling, it is shocking to look down at the end of the day and see 4,500 steps as a total and realize that I have to jog or walk a hefty amount to catch up. But ultimately, it's a good gauge of how much I need to move a day and I'm becoming even more conscientious about putting a little walk at the end of each day.

Note:

I am much more active here —> paxfilly.blogspot.com/

But if you get bored of reading a bunch of horsey mumbo-jumbo, it probably isn't your bag.

family — ??

Stuff is difficult for my family now. I am so thankful to be close.

Richard is in the neighborhood of saintly. I don't think I deserve him.

My mother is an outstanding human being. I am too loved.

I don't know what to think about things right now.

But I do know to take life day by day.

Prayer can't hurt, either.

Nor can cabernet.

In moderation.

Decembery. Closing shop in 2010.

Napped this afternoon. Now I'm still wide-eyed and antsy and thoughtful.

Christmas was truly joyful. Family, friendships from more than one side of life, and an overabundance of giving that I didn't expect but still thoroughly enjoyed. My family, all sides, is a gift.



I want to spend more time with the horses in the next months. I have a lot to learn, and I don't do it sitting around and listening to jabber. I will still be reading, and now lessons are taking a small priority in my budget and free time, but less talk and more roundpen and saddle will go a long way for me. Talk sometimes scares me, creates doubt, or plants resentment. I always learn things with less talking and more observation.




I am aware I am falling into the trap of replacing buddies and girltime with lax domesticity and Richard. Recently I have worried about this less and become more accepting of the growing boredom and disinterest my friends rightfully show towards me, though in a gentle way. As long as they know I am there for them in times of need, I should be satisfied. I think I am. I'm secure in knowing I am much more than a houseplant, or more secure than I was.

I haven't done a bang-up job on my Raggers goals. In fact, one is pretty much a moot point courtesy of money in my work or personal budgets. But the act of setting goals in and of itself was a positive thing; I will be trying if again.. Eventually. Someday I may develop some Type A tendencies that are beneficial; someday I will be an active planner rather then a passive one.

Good year. Different. But good.

More different from here on out, I suppose.


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Location:Home, in Hunt

Facebook.

What would you do if Facebook suddenly deleted your past albums?

I had over two thousand pictures of me tagged. I just deleted a bunch more of questionable content. (Heh.)

What would the me in those early photos, wearing a "booby" sweater and eyeliner and short, curled hair and squishing in as many people at the party into one frame say to the person I am now? I think I would've realized my life is pretty blessed at age twenty four (and I might've noticed that I stopped getting haircuts after college) but I wonder what else.

It's so cool to look back. A few moments of slapping my palm to my face a nanosecond before untagging— the worst were some of my comments. Why did I just not leave the caption fields blank?! But it makes me miss some of my friends, reflect on a couple of old boyfriends, wonder why I ever thought "orange" was an appropriate interior decorating scheme, shudder at the thought of gulping down drinks I wouldn't touch in my mid-twenties, remember Europe better, curse myself for ever thinking myself fat in college, and really, it makes me so happy I've found what I have.

Sort of as an aside, I miss flying to Killinchy and Newcastle over Christmas. Even though I will always take having Richard here over the separation, it was thrilling to get to visit somewhere and become a part of a vastly different and very welcoming new family. There are a lot of things we could use some extra money for at the minute, but I hope in the next year we find the resources to go back. I think it would be good for both of us, and for Richard's family especially. I would also like to go up to the McConnells' house for tea and cookies and bring them something nice from Texas. I think about those gentle ladies a lot for some reason, almost as much as the rest of his family.

The heart of marriage is memories; and if the two of you happen to have the same ones and can savor your reruns, then your marriage is a gift from the gods. —Bill Cosby

What I Want for Christmas

I don't normally make Christmas lists and have certainly never been encouraged to, but this is sort of a general wish list for myself.

Mountain Horse Sportive High Rider II Boot


Kerrits Sit Tight Lite Breech

Aaaand, most importantly, more riding lessons, please.

(What?! Natalie asked. So I researched.)

Pre Thanksgiving

November doesn't have an excellent track record with my family, taking into consideration the past two and the loss of all of the males on the Phelps side of the family, but I still enjoy Thanksgiving. We aren't really having much of one this year as my Grandma and mom don't feel the urge to celebrate, but there will be food and the five of us, plus the normal dog assembly, plus a 140-lb Great Dane, plus the parrot. Somehow by injecting droves of animals into my parents' modest suburban home, I think I'm hoping to keep things light and hopefully out of the reach of the Dane.

I'm looking forward to a new camera, sort of a by-product of my mother investing in a new Mac Book Pro. We aren't exactly drowning in money here currently, as every animal and every vehicle seems to have expressed their opinion on breaking somehow (transmission, ear infection, viruses, alternators, ACLs, etc.) and we insist on driving a lot and having pricey hobbies (okay, last one is my fault) but we are doing alright. Having a lot of fun thanks to friends and good weather and being outside a good deal. Last weekend, a couple of great friends hosted us in College Station for Richard's first Aggie game. I was happy to go to see them and let Richard get the A&M experience, but ended up having a great time watching all of the excitement that surrounds a game in Aggieland and then enjoying someone else's nice family and friends. Totally worth the drive.

R's been working a lot, fifteen or so hours today alone, but we are driving to San Antonio tonight as soon as he gets off work. It has been pretty super to have him to work with the youngsters on trimming, plus Pax can get her pancake toes trimmed more often and Indy is having to deal with rasping instead of nippers. He's been riding one of the 5 year old bucksins for me, too and dealing with some of his crap that I wasn't fond of. My Thursday lesson girls are in love with him and his horse "Whiskers" and made him run the barrels twice last week. And by run, I mean, cajole obese Whiskey into trotting farty circles around the barrels angrily. He wants to do a NATRC ride with me, but we don't have a horse conditioned early enough for next weekend. He's tagging along anyway to run P&R checks again and be a good camp manager for me and El Bandito.

All in all, life is good. My dozen lesson students seem to have finally balanced out (moreso that I've gotten a better handle on things and started laying a few more diligent ground rules about scheduling.) Now I can enjoy that part of my job a lot more than I was— my riding instructor, Ashley, pretty much hung the moon as far as I was concerned at age 10 and 11, and while the fun —but correct— legalities of the YMCA prevent me from having the same kind of open-door-policy on the barn and horses, getting girls in the saddle who might not otherwise have a chance is what I'm pretty sure I'm cut out to do. The main thing that bothers me is the lack of weekends.. Not because I mind working 6+ days a week, but because I have a deeply burning desire to pursue my own competitive riding for the first time in my entire life. It isn't as though I don't enjoy weekend retreats— on the flip side, I love having our loving and very fun summer staff here to help run the place, not the least of which is Tiff. I just think I've found a sport both my wacko horse and I click at, somewhat. And to add to that, I now have a burning desire to ride dressage, because clearly that's an affordable and practical solution to having too many other things on the plate.

Ah well. Did I say life was good? It is.

Twenty four.

Today was good. As expected, we worked a lot. (745 a - 400 p, 1.5 hour snooze somewhere in there.) I cleaned a lot more floors and cabins than I would normally prefer in a birthday celebration, but it was in high spirits and with good people, Richard included.

At midnight he handed me a wrapped DVD of Whip It, which we both liked a lot in theaters. Can't get enough of Drew Barrymore or Ellen Page or movies written in or about Austin, so naturally a winner. This morning, he gave me a hammered silver cuff bracelet from James Avery (he almost picked it out himself!) and the Apples to Apples Party Box, along with lots of chocolate (read: 30 ounces of Pretzel M&Ms AND MORE) and some silly bands.

After work, we changed and drove an hour to Boerne to meet my parents and Kelsey at Spinelli's Vistro. Vegetarian spinach tortillini, merlot, and a crap ton of bread and olive oil with pesto. And cheesecake. My parents gave me a beautiful James Avery bracelet (thank God not the same one; this was the year of the silver bracelets) with a little wild mustang dangling from it. Plus 30 more ounces of Pretzel M&Ms. Word is out I have a new favorite. Kelsey gave me a little giraffe piggy bank and our own copy of the Catchphrase game, which Richard likes to throw against the wall after a few beers at parties. Mainly, it was good to sit with everyone and eat and be happy. There's lots going on with my grandmother, her estate— to include two miniature Schnauzers, anyone want them? and the long list of health problems she and my father have racked up. But this was pretty easy and happy and nice.

Richard took me to a movie after, somewhat by fluke. More on that another time, but it was grand. We had a good conversation on the way home. Life's weird, we're going to be weird parents down the line, but it's a weirdness I thoroughly condone and enjoy. And he enjoys our menagerie as much as I do, thank God, otherwise it would be a mess.

Even though today was sort of the crap end of the job —no horses, no real interaction with kids save for goodbyes and picture-taking— it was nice to work together with people who all pitched in and helped and made a long day go by quickly. I do love it here; there are frustrating parts but I realize they pale in comparison to the frustrations that come with a work place that doesn't "get" you or allow you to do what you're really happy doing. The rides with the Boy Scouts yesterday were just lots and lots of fun. Everyone was appreciative, Richard and Justin did a great job riding and palling around with the kids.

Life's nice. Not at all meager, really. There's enough promise for what's to come that I don't mind cutting corners here and there and taking longer to be with my family and the friends and co-worker/friends that feel like family.

Today also seems to be the first weather-y day of fall. It's quite cool out, and never got to sweltering during the day. I like fall now more, after being married. Until now, I have always been a fervent supporter of summer 365 days a year. But I'm starting to enjoy being chilly, just a little.

Plus, our crappy little house is full of love with three cats outside, a yellow dog and the two people inside. I like it. Twenty four will be a good year, I think.

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.

I suppose I am a hedonist.

I was looking at the blog of a girl I knew only very briefly (she's still a Facebook friend and I saw she was engaged, went to go check out her writing, blah blah..)

And this greeted me:

First of all.. I strangely really like the music. If I were to be subjected to listening to Christian music for the rest of my life, her voice would likely be my first pick.

But listen to all six (approx.) minutes of that. Of special note is the part where the "Devil" shows us images of Buddha, a Mosque, and a few other symbols of various world religion. And then this gem, lyrically:

Or I'll tell you...
There is a heaven but there's many ways to get in
Keep you so confused that you stay bound to your sin
Tell you there are many ways to the same God
Keep you distracted with your methods so your heart stays hard,
I'll make you think you've got spirituality, but it's really just emotional alchemy
Oh, the vanity of self-idoltary I never let you see that it breeds
Hedonism! Whoo!

The reminder that someone with some shred of talent and intelligence still believes these things was a bit too much to handle on this absolutely wonderful Saturday morning. The reason I still cling to parts of my Catholic upbringing is because of the handful of priests and laypeople I met who genuinely loved humanity as a whole and saw life as a brilliant opportunity to demonstrate love in all capacities, to all people, all of whom had a place in a life after this one.

Then of course there's the obligatory line about the Big Bang being a bunch of hooey, and divorce being sinful, and yadda yadda yadda. I'm sure dinosaurs also don't exist.

I do not mean to show malice towards this particular blogger. I think there is power is a faith that strong, and certainly the potential for that power to do wonderful, beneficial, altruistic, and world-altering things. But to consider one way of thinking the only road to spiritual enlightenment, love, Heaven, and worth in the eyes of God is so incredibly narrow, self-indulgent, and hypocritical. Believe fervently in what you want; go ahead! But with that certain brand of belief should come an understanding that other believers of all walks of the world may, too, wish for the same changes in the world and believe in an everlasting life. Or what have you. Show your love through compassion, not through finger-pointing.

Oye. I was going to go further into this, but my head hurts with the considerations and the fact that I'm rusty at writing. Going to go outside and plant stuff. And maybe chant

Green Things

kara-and-mashley.blogspot.com/

It was Kara's idea! And I think it's grand.

Also, been plugging away at a plan for our garden. Richard isn't working the same hours during the week he'd been used to, though weekends are full— and he has a full-time job lined up for the supper. So we're planning and plotting a 20' x 20' veg garden in the east section of our fenced yard, and a compost bin. Right now, the plan is for English peas, summer squash, broccoli (I'm dubious about this one; different sites offer very different levels of difficulty for it, but whatever— worth a go), carrots, leaf lettuce, and spinach. I'm also doing tomatoes in this funky As-Seen-on-TV device thing we acquired and mint and rosemary in some large pots out front.

I want to ride more. :/ CAMPfrence is the beginning of this week, and I have a decent list of chores to tend to, but at least the hay delivery is done. Moving 104 bales a quarter mile over a windy road in little tractor frankly sucks. I am not good at "clearing my mind" or letting mindless tasks "calm me" unless they are physical. Riding the tractor is duller than can be imagined— the only upside being the opportunity to watch the herd eat, play, snooze, and kick up their heels at each other while forking the bales to and fro.

Natalie's coming in a week or two! Kelsey may be here this week! Polly and I had a good shopping trip, the first time I've bought much in ages, and it was all remarkably cheap. All clothes for the few days I need to look "Office Space" nice for work, but none of it boring. (i.e., I HATE black slacks. But grey crop pants are okay!)

Vague updates, tardy resolutions

It's nine PM and I've been in my pajamas for just under an hour already. Delicious. True, I still have one horse to feed tonight, but that's exactly why shearling boots and Carhartt jackets were designed to fit over just about everything.

While Sunday was a perfect spring day at seventy-one degrees and cloudless, tomorrow there is a 90% chance of snow. Snow. I do not like snow, especially when tomorrow is the first day I will have had off in over two weeks and I had every intention of packing the dog and Richard into the hatchback and going to Fredericksburg for some barefooted hiking and scrambling around Enchanted Rock. I fear that if that does not happen, I'll instead spend my day off in a pile in bed watching Netflix and drinking coffee laced with hot chocolate. And that really isn't what I want to do, though I guess it wouldn't be all that bad.

As stated previously, spring is very busy here, which I really enjoy for the most part. I feel like I get a little lost in the fray sometimes and there are things that fall by the wayside that shouldn't (running, for one, and laundry, for another) but I love that I've been given lots of rein to make changes and look forward to improving things for this year and next and who knows however long afterwards. (Seems like most people stick around for two years. But I'm banking on doing everything I can to avoid moving, so maybe we'll be here longer? If we build on an attic by ourselves or something, as we are already pretty much out of space?) That said, we have moved feed companies and I hope to see some improvement per dollar in the condition of about four of our older horses. NOT to Purina, though the nutritionist was a very nice gentleman.. sorry, but buying $24/bag 32% protein feeds for my easy keepers is not in a Camp Budget, not even an uppity for-profit camp, let alone us.

Richard is off to his second adventure race with Bill and Ryne this weekend while us girls hold down the retreat fort. I'm rather sad that I don't get to be around for the debut of Team Hair In All The Right Places (oh yes, my husband came up with that one) but I'm good to focus on my own fitness. Barefoot running has swept over camp as a cool new craze, in addition to MovNat and we're all sporting our Vibram FiveFingers now. Well, three out of six of us. I suspect the trend will increase. ;)

Horses are good. Trying to get Pax about town a bit more and working on getting some riding lessons at the end of this week or beginning of next. Scheduling, growl.

I hate losing friends. I don't feel as though I've done it via malicious methods often in life, but I also can have a wonderfully selective long-term memory that blots out the most painful stuff. I know I've gotten in some big snaggles with at least 75% of my closest friends, but all arguments of the sort that blow over with the right formula of time and changing scenery.

On the other hand, I don't think I'm wrong for reaching a point where solutions turn into more strife and the value of friendship has been outweighed by the burden of constantly being In The Wrong —tempered with feeling entirely misunderstood— and cutting ties. Clicking a button on the mouse isn't difficult, though the decision is. The ramifications aren't foreseeable, either. But I do not believe I have it in me to admit wrongfulness when I did something in the name of other friendships that resulted in not being liked by another handful of people. I totally hate being not liked; I'm not at all good at having an "f you if you don't like what I do" attitude (hi! please like me!) but that can only go so far.

I also want to find peace with the simple fact that I am happy with my life now. I have struggles (my body, some money battles though they have lessened, learning to be married and not suck at it, managing a social life and a difficult job that are completely intertwined, maintaining friendships with people I am no longer on the same plane with at times) but they are eased by the luck I've had in making the good things the important things. And it has taken a certain amount of work, though fate blessed me with far more fortune than most of the world. But it is tiring to always be thought of as a drag for being perceived as tame, boring, settled. And it is trying to have to hold my tongue when I want to say, "I'm in a good place now. I am happy!" but know it will meet with annoyance, rumoring, or grumbles. I do believe I am good at celebrating my friends' triumphs and not being too overt about my own. I do believe I am a listener, though that strength is imparted to me from my parents and my husband, who will listen to all my crazy so that I can put on a semblance of tranquility to friends who need support. I love being that support.

But I'm very exhausted of being unable to do anything right by some people who, I realize, I perhaps didn't know so well after all. Or I assumed things that I shouldn't have.

At the end of the day, my house is terribly and chronically messy and there's the possibility that the latest car payment might bounce if we don't deposit some of Richard's tip checks soon. I've made mistakes in my budget choices for FY 2010; some of the horses are old and I don't know if I'm doing the best thing for their digestive systems. Sometimes I struggle to keep up with the fundraising aspect of my job. Sometimes I forget to make phone calls, and sometimes I try to sweep those problems under the rug. I spend a lot of time wanting people to admire me. I gripe at my husband and say sarcastic things to him that I would try to keep from the worst of my neighbors. I'm worried about passing my certification test this next week in Oklahoma. I am sad that I can't travel with Kelsey right away and I wish I could show her in more ways how much her friendship means to me. My closest friend seems to want to prove me wrong on a lot of occasions; I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm just full of hot air. My dad is really sick. I weigh close to 150 pounds. That's 25 more than I did six months ago. It isn't a healthy place for my body because I haven't maintained my fitness level. I'm jealous when Richard goes mountain biking. I doubt myself in most ways. I'm vain and I'm proud of how far I've come in a short time after high school. I worry chronically that I've had too much luck, "pride goeth before the fall," yadda yadda, and tragedy is around the corner.

I know hundreds of millions of people have it worse off every second. I know my troubles pale in comparison.

But I am very happy. I don't feel the need to be kinetic with my life now. I like this place. I'm not ashamed of that, and I don't think it is a boring place.