Dancing on the Square

I left the house early so that I could get a decent parking spot.  I was all dolled up in my square dance attire:  red and white skirt with red butterflies on the white part, a red blouse, a purple—yes, purple, it was the only one I had—petticoat, and white "petit-pants."  You wear petit-pants on top of your regular underwear so you're completely covered.  Because .  .  . whenever you twirl, and there is a lot of twirling going on, your skirt lifts, your petticoat lifts, and everybody who is watching sees your petit-pants!  So make sure they're clean!

Dancing on the Courthouse Plaza was a big deal!  People come from all over to see events on the Courthouse Plaza.  The Courthouse sits in the center of a large block.  Green grass and shade trees surround it to make a parklike atmosphere.  Any time you go there, winter or summer, there are people in the park, most of them walking their dogs, or just sitting around enjoying the atmosphere.  During the summer, something is going on every single weekend.  When I first moved to town and lived close to there, I would go to most events, but soon tired of the heavy traffic, difficult to find parking spaces . . . and hard to admit . . . being there alone.

The Courthouse Square and surrounding area have been in several movies.  The courthouse has a clock that was used in Back to the Future.  Across the street on the East side was—unfortunately closed now—an ice cream parlor that was used in Billy Jack.  On the West side is Whiskey Row:  several bars and shops that have been there for ages and have reputations involving gunfights and famous old cowboys and of course, the shady ladies of the time.  Whiskey Row burned down more than once, if I remember correctly, so most of the buildings have been re-built at least once.  It's an interesting place.

But, back to the square dancing!  We were supposed to bring chairs, but I wasn't going to drag a heavy chair along, so I hoped for the best.  Luckily, there was a bench right by the dancing area that I was able to sit on for most of the evening when I wasn't dancing.  The Plaza is a cement area in front of the courthouse, and there was a small stage set up for the square dance caller, and his sound equipment.  It was on the other side, closer to the street, so that people sitting on the steps of the courthouse could easily watch the dancing.

When I dressed for the evening, I was afraid that I would be cold at the event, but it turned out to be a warm evening, and with all the dancing, I was hot!  I danced nearly all the square dances, but only one "line dance."  A line dance is where everyone lines up in a "line" (several lines, actually), and as the music plays, you all do the same steps.  The one I danced to was New York, New York, and it was really fun.  I knew it from when I danced in Durango, but I didn't remember the steps!  Luckily, before all the dances, they teach you how to do it.  The trick that I learned in Durango was to stand behind someone who knows what they're doing, so that you can follow them!  It works like a charm!

In square dancing, it almost always seems that there are a lot more women than men, so you have to be really aggressive to be able to dance.  If you wait for a man to ask you, you'll be sitting around waiting a lot.  So it's all Sadie Hawkins for me!  In Durango, I used to try to catch the men in the parking lot as I walked in, so I could line up dances for myself!  Here, it's not quite that bad, but I try to get the following dance lined up, after I get the present dance taken care of.

I had a blast, and got myself in the paper as well!  Take a look at this!  I'm glad that they only shot the back of me, because I was wearing a camisole, and I didn't realize until I reached home that it showed all evening!  How embarrassing!  Ah, well!

http://dcourier.com/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=150072&SectionID=1&SubSectionID=1086&S=1

On Death and Dying . . . and Living

I guess I'll start from the beginning.  I'm way past the age that you are "supposed" to have a colonoscopy.  I eat well, I live in a healthy way, and I really just didn't want one.  It didn't sound fun at all.

So when I got a symptom or two or three . . . well, to say that it was scary would be a huge understatement.  I went to the doctor so that she could set up an appointment to have a colonoscopy done.  When I described the symptoms and asked, " . . . so, if it is colon cancer and these are my first symptoms, then it's probably pretty far along, right?"  She replied by mentioning chemo and radiation, to which I responded . . . "well, that ain't gonna happen."

The appointment was set up and to my surprise, even with the scary symptoms, I couldn't get in for three weeks.  And even at that, I had to accept an out-of-network doctor, because to get an in-network doctor, I would have had to wait several months!

I was okay with living or dying, but the not knowing was killing me.  While I'm waiting the three weeks for the appointment, I was standing in the kitchen making a salad:  organic lettuce, cabbage, radishes, celery, cucumber, and carrots.  At the same time, my computer was blaring away with songs from Pandora, the internet radio station.  The station that I had chosen was:  Big Iron Radio . . . all old-time cowboy songs.  It's an awesome station, and I really love it.  So on this particular day, I was listening, and the first few words of the song were something like . . . "I didn't know that in four months I'd be dead."  So at that moment, I knew exactly when I was going to die.  Four months.  I would take the test, and it would turn out "bad" and that would be that.  It actually gave me a certain amount of peace.  Okay, four months, I can deal with that.

Let me interject here that I don't remember the words of the song exactly, and I don't remember any of the other words of the song, and I've searched high and low and can't find the song.  And I've never heard it again since.

But back to my last four months.  I began thinking about what I wanted to do with those last precious four months.

I have to interrupt again here.  It may seem unrelated, but you'll understand soon.  The latter part of last year, I began riding a little horse named Pearl.  I may have mentioned her here a time or two.  She came to the ranch just prior to when I moved in, and I still have the pics that Carol sent to me when she first arrived.  Pearl is a small horse—only fourteen hands, if you know horses—and when she was put into the pasture with the other bigger horses, I feared for her safety. No worries.  Pearl was a kickin' and a bitin' and a takin' right good care of herself.  She was tough!  No one rode her for several months.

Pearl had come with her half-brother, Scout.  While Scout, who was younger than Pearl, was away being trained, Carol decided to ride Pearl.  I rode Taffy that day, and Linda, Carol's cousin, rode Surprise.  Pearl was horrible!  She tried to rub Carol off on every tree that they rode past.  And she didn't just go to the edge of the tree—Pearl headed straight toward the middle of the tree!  She was serious!  Carol had all she could do to get Pearl to stay on the trail.  And Taffy, who is normally the best behaved horse that you could imagine, was not happy with Pearl's antics, so she started misbehaving!  Of course, since it was Taffy, it was minor.  Anyway, we finally got to the end of the ride, and Carol was not rubbed off.

After Scout returned from training, Carol took Pearl and someone rode Scout out on the trail.  With her brother there, Pearl was fine.  Then Carol wanted me to ride Pearl.  What?!  That horse that tried to rub you off on every single tree out there?!  I don't think so!  But after thinking about it and feeling somewhat obligated because I had been riding her horses for several months—and I was kind of flattered that she trusted me with this green horse—I told her I'd do it.

The first time out was scary for me.  All I could think about was what my good friend, Alice, used to tell me:  green horse plus green rider equals black and blue!  But all Pearl did was get antsy when we stopped, and then she raised up a little bit at this area close to home where a lot of horses react.  Raised up her front legs, that is . . . not enough to be called a "rear up" but a little.  Scary but not horrible.

The second time I rode her, we trailered out.  I was still a little nervous and felt it was "work" instead of a pleasurable ride, but Pearl was fine.  In fact, by the time we got back to the trailer three hours later, I was in love.

Back to living and dying and thinking about what I wanted to do with those four precious months.  I wanted to go see Machu Pichu, but only for a few days, because I wanted to get back so I could ride Pearl.  I wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt, but only for a few days, because I wanted to get back so I could ride Pearl.  Every time I thought of something that I wanted to do, underneath the desire was a greater desire to ride Pearl.  So I made the decision that if I really was dying that I would buy Pearl.  But my colonoscopy still wasn't for a few more weeks.

In the meantime, two other people were interested in buying Pearl.  I finally had this revelation that if my dying wish was to ride Pearl because of the joy that she brought me, shouldn't I have that same joy if I was going to live?  So I did the only reasonable thing to do:  I bought her.

Fast forward to my colonoscopy:  Nothing!  All that worry for nothing.  I was clean and clear, and healthy as a horse!  I can only believe that the whole symptom stuff was the universe screaming in my ear that I needed to buy this horse.  You know how it works . . . the universe whispers to you . . . and if you don't hear it, it gets louder and louder and louder.  This time, I may have heard the whispers, but I didn't pay attention until I heard the screams.  Whatever it takes, you know.

So now, Pearl and I are living happily ever after.  I cannot express to you the joy that I feel when I ride her.  I love riding horses . . . most any horse . . . but with Pearl, it's different.  It's almost like we are one.  It's the greatest feeling.  Joy.  Pure joy.

Isn't she beautiful?

And as for the four months?  Even after I got the "all clear" from the colonoscopy, I was still concerned about the four months.  But, I am well over the four months now, so everything is good.  But if I would suddenly get hit by a Mack truck or a bus or something . . . I had these last months of pure joy riding Pearl, and although I'd rather not die, I would be okay with it.  Life is awesome! Find joy and live it!
                                                    

More pictures from the tunnel ride . . .

You can kind of see the narrow trail leading to the tunnel.

It looks dark from here!

Pearl tied to the post that she tried to eat.

Deb on Utah waiting for the others to catch up.

Closer up.

Four cool rides . . .

I wrote this entire post already . . . complete with pictures . . . and even though I "saved" it . . . it disappeared on me.  So, as you might imagine, I'm reluctant to write it again.  But here goes.

The first ride, quite a while ago now, was an eight hour ride!  That was its claim to fame!  I didn't know if I could do it, but I did!  In my youth, I used to do eight hour rides all the time on my first horse.  But it's a long way from my youth!  Three of us went on this ride:  Joanne, who led the ride, and me and Carol.  We drove a long way on a dirt road, parked, unloaded the horses, mounted up, and rode and rode and rode!  We made it to the Verde River, had lunch, and then rode back.  It was a pretty ride, but about the only thing we saw, apart from our beautiful surroundings, were a few cattle.

Joanne's horse drinking from the Verde River.

Joanne, Carol, and me in the back.

Joanne also led the next ride.  This one was with one of the cowgirl groups that I'm in, so there were about twenty people on the ride.  Before someone leads a ride for a large group, they usually do what's called a "pre-ride" . . . that's where they scout out the territory, and make sure that the trail is feasible and all, get the horse accustomed to the trail, and leave tracks to follow later.  So after Joanne did the pre-ride, it happened to rain, which wiped out most of her tracks.  We started following the trail, but soon lost it, and we were going under low hanging trees (watch out!) and branches were whacking us, and all sorts of things to avoid.  I decided that day that I needed to get a pair of chaps . . . they go over your pants to protect you from branches and stuff.  At one point on the ride, there was a kind of swampy area in front of us.  I was riding Taffy again, and she didn't want to go.  So, my friend Susie was behind me, riding Angel, and Susie got Angel to go.  Angel fell down in the water!  I thought it was quick sand sucking them both away, and that I'd never see them again!  But Angel managed to get out of it, and they rode to the other side.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to encourage Taffy to go in there or not!  But Taffy had seen what happened, too, and she wasn't having any part of it!  She jumped over a bush on the side of the swamp and made it to the other side without incident.  Anyway, it was an exciting ride, and I really enjoyed it!

On another ride, we drove over to Skull Valley, and went with another horse group on a long ride up to a small lake.  On the way, we passed an area that had been burned a year or two ago.  Some of the beaver tail cactus (I think they're called that) were singed and bent over on their sides and looked like so many slain soldiers.  It was sad.  Then we had to go up this huge step-up on rocks.  If I had been on Little Pearl, I don't think she could have done it!  But I was on Taffy, and except for stopping midway through the step to catch a bite to eat, she did fine!  We had lunch at the lake and then returned.

This next one had a lot of anticipation from most of the participants.  Joanne was going to lead us on another ride . . . this time through a two hundred foot tunnel!  It was an old railroad tunnel that they had to retire, because the trains kept falling off the mountain!   It was about an hour drive up there.  I can't remember exactly, but there were maybe twelve or fifteen people on this ride.  We started out and rode along the old and original Route 66!  Passing that, we soon came to the area where all the train tracks had been removed.  We rode along a flat trail about eight feet wide.  To the right of us was a gradual slope down a big hill that sometimes had large metal pieces holding the hill up, or something—they were about ten feet off the trail, so I'm not sure what they were there for.  At one spot in the trail, some of the trail had crumbled away, so there was a warning sign.  One of the horses freaked out at the sign, so the rider had to dismount and lead the horse past it.  Little Pearl did fine.  Shortly after that, the tunnel came into view,  and the excitement of the group mounted!  Here we go!  The horse that Joanne rode had never been in the tunnel before and was not eager to get in this time, but it finally went in.  The next horses followed.  Little Pearl strode in easily enough, but there were some piles of rock inside the tunnel that she wasn't very happy about.  I had brought a flashlight just in case, but even with a bend in the middle of the tunnel, there was enough light to see.  We got to the other side, rode aways, and then stopped for lunch.

 

The old Route 66

Heading into the tunnel 

I tied Pearl to an old telegraph pole (or something!), and she kept trying to eat it!  I had to keep getting up from my lunch to yell at her to stop.  After lunch, we all mounted up again and rode back through the tunnel, which wasn't as exciting—or scary—as the first time.  But Pearl still wasn't too sure about all those piles of rocks!  After the tunnel, we rode back a different way.  Instead of following the narrow path back, we rode downhill to the bottom.  It wasn't really a trail, so we had to avoid bushes and branches, but I liked it better.  And some of the places were really rocky, but we passed those quickly.  There were some places with items from the wreckage of the trains, but I wasn't quick enough to get a picture of those.  Everybody was moving on, and I had to keep up with traffic—horsey style traffic, that is.  We were almost back to the trailers . . . within maybe fifteen or thirty minutes . . . when we had an incident.  Me and Pearl, that is.  We came across a small herd of sheep guarded by two of those big sheepdogs . . . not Great Pyranees, these are tall smooth-coated white dogs.  I think maybe they are Anatolian Shepherds, but I'm not sure.  Anyway, Pearl, who is used to seeing deer, antelope, and jack rabbits the size of small dogs, has never seen a sheep before, and she wasn't at all happy about seeing them.  She was excited in a bad way, but not horrible . . . but then, we came to a small water source, and several of the horses wanted to drink.  Pearl and I, and some of the other horses, stood on top without going down to the water.  I could feel her muscles bunching underneath me . . . which is never a good sign—the horse is about to explode—and I really wanted the other horses and the lead rider to come up from the water and let us move on.  When we finally got going, we walked about fifteen feet from the water.  There was a rather deep hole, but graduated down, so it wasn't awful, but I didn't really want to go into it, either . . . when I tried to ride in between it and the water, Pearl kind of flipped out and almost backed into the hole.  She was really acting up, but I finally got her past it, and her antics made another horse act up, which I felt bad about.  Anyway, aside from that, Pearl did really well.  She didn't freak out too much over the strange horses (which she's still not completely used to), so overall, I was pretty happy.  And I didn't get dumped over the sheep/hole incident, so I was happy about that, too!  All in all, it was a great ride.

Heading out of the tunnel

The Way That it Works . . .

I wrote this I don't know how long ago and somehow forgot about it.  Sorry about this.  Well, here goes.  I'm pushing the Post button.

So I was really ticked off.  You know how much I love games.  I've told you how much I love games . . . especially "euro" games . . . the games originating in Europe . . . the really complicated ones.  I'm addicted, I tell you, addicted!  So that's why I was ticked off.

The group that I'm in plays games at several different places.  Once every two weeks, we play at the library.  Once every two weeks we play in the clubhouse of a housing development.  Every other Wednesday, and every Friday we play at a game store.  Fridays alternate between the store in Prescott Valley and the one in Prescott.

It started at the Prescott Valley store.  They began spraying "air freshener."  Lots of it.  Trying not to get myself in trouble here, I will say that there has been research to suggest that those can cause cancer . . . they're carcinogenic.  Whether they are or aren't, I am sensitive to that.  Some of you may remember how sensitive I was to perfume back in the day.  So, I started by asking the management to turn them off when I was in the store.  That kind of worked, but he always had something else to do first, and so there were one or two or more "squirts" of the poison in the air before he got around to it.  So I asked if I could bring them to him, which kind of worked for a while.  What happened is that I would bring them to him, but he wouldn't turn them off right away, which was just as bad.  Ultimately, there was one or two that I couldn't find or that didn't get turned off.  In a fit of anger, I put on a white over-thing and a mask so that I could finish the game I was in.  If I didn't do that, I would go home literally covered with that horrible scent all over my clothes.  I haven't returned to that store since.

But I could still go to the other store.  They only had two "sprayers" and I would bring the one in the back room up front as soon as I entered the store.  That had been working.  But either my sensitivities have gotten worse because of all the exposure at the other place, or they cranked up the one they had left . . . whatever it was, I got a reaction even in the back room.  So I couldn't return there anymore, either.

What made me sad was that although most of the people in the group knew of my issues, only one person stood up for me.  Had they all stood up for me, the management may have been persuaded not to use the dang things on the nights we were there.  So . . . it saddens me that the people I have been playing games with for more than a year, wouldn't step up.  But . . . they're mostly guys . . . and . . . it's something that most people won't do . . . unless it affects them directly.

It reminds me of a quote I heard about Nazi Germany . . . and I don't remember who said it, and I'm kind of paraphrasing it.  But it goes something like this:
When they came for the Jews, I didn't say anything because I wasn't Jewish.
When they came for the gypsys, I didn't say anything because I wasn't a gypsy.
When they came for the homosexuals, I didn't say anything because I wasn't homosexual.
When they came for the Catholics, I didn't say anything because I wasn't Catholic.
And when they came for me, there was no one left to say anything.

There's one more thing that I forgot until just now.  I mentioned that the people in the group didn't stand up for me.  Well, I should say something about the people in this group . . . they are the worst eaters I've ever seen . . . almost every single one of them to the person either has a soda every game night or candy or cookies or all of the above.  The "healthiest" one of them drinks coke in a bottle because it has real sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup.  That is a good thing.  But it's far from healthy.  So when I was complaining about the air freshener, one of them said, "I have one of those in my bedroom."  When I heard that, it was like everything came together for me.  No wonder they're not standing up for me.  They see nothing wrong with the air freshener spray.  They think it's okay.  It's just like when they laugh at me when I tell them not to keep their cell phone by their heat.  So . . . I guess they're laughing at the air freshener problem, too.  Oh, well.

Whatever.  So . . . now the good news!  At first I was furious and disappointed, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.  Then I realized something . . .

Now I'll take you back a couple weeks from this incident.  It was a second date . . . I liked this guy.  Unfortunately it didn't work out because of reasons beyond my control, but the date was important because I got this from it.  He was talking about some drama that a previous girlfriend had been involved in.  I said something negative about drama (because I don't like it).  So he asked what is drama.  My answer is what came back to me when I was so furious . . . drama is anything that takes you out of the moment.  Because THE MOMENT is where your life is.  THE MOMENT is where your power is.  Thinking about how angry and disappointed I felt was making me miserable.  But at that moment, I was cooking dinner . . . that didn't make me angry.  I was sitting at the computer looking out at the horses . . . that didn't make me angry.  If I kept myself IN THE MOMENT, it turned out I wasn't angry or furious.  Dinner was good, and I absolutely love looking out my window at the horses. Once I brought myself BACK TO THE MOMENT, life was good.  The anger and disappointment drifted away, and I moved on.

That's the good part.  Moving on, I mean.  Once I opened that space in my life that had been filled with games, other areas of my life opened up.  I had joined this women's group that met in the afternoon a couple times a month.  Now they were starting to have side get-togethers . . . and . . . because I was free of the games on those nights, I could go!  How cool is that!?!  And I finally emailed the square dancing group in town . . . remember how much I love square dancing? . . . and they are now having lessons . . . and since it's been a couple years since I've danced, I need a little refresher . . . it's perfect!  And I LOVE square dancing.  If I hadn't been willing to let the games go . . . peacefully . . . these things might not have opened up for me.

And that's when I realized . . .  That's the way it works . . .

This is today.

When I stepped out the door, the horses nickered.  My landlords are gone, and it is my job to take care of the horses.  How cool is that?  They took four horses with them, so I don't have that many to feed and water.  You know how I enjoy being around them, so it's more of a pleasure than anything else.  I let Moki out when I feed, and he likes to run around and eat horse droppings.  It's like probiotics for him!

Dressed in my Arctic insulated Carhartt jacket, lined jeans, hunter's black and red warm cap with ear flaps, and thinsulate-insulated work gloves, I started toward the horses.  Lucky, the beautiful solid black gelding who used to be their stallion, is a special horse.  When the feed bins get knocked over, Lucky is the one who straightens back up.  If there are more than one flipped over, though, you don't give him the hay until they're all flipped back.  Unfortunately, after righting the first one, I carried the hay to the second one to get him to flip that one.  He was having none of that!  He just refused.  So I had to put the hay back into the wheelbarrow and walk toward the house to get my muck boots on.  It had rained for days and it still wasn't dry in the horses area.  Deep mud, past my ankles, would ruin my regular cowboy boots.

After the muck boots—warm to 80 degrees below zero, supposedly—I returned to the horses.  I threw hay into the feed bins that were turned the right way, and then entered the gate to flip the others.  Once the horses start eating, they won't knock you down to get food when you step in.  I flipped them all over, pulled them closer to the fence, and then stepped out, locked the gate, and threw in the rest of the hay.  Then I took the other wheel barrow to feed the other three horses.  Toss a flake in here, walk down the road apiece, throw another flake there, and then Taffy gets the final flake.  Her enclosure is at the end.

Leaving the wheelbarrow outside, I grabbed the shovel left by Taffy's water bin, stepped inside and whacked the hard crust of ice that had formed on the top of the water.  Yes, this is Arizona, but these are the mountains of Arizona and it gets down to freezing at night.  After finishing Taffy's water, I locked her gate and proceeded to the other horses water bins.  When I finished, my hands, even in the thinsulate-insulated gloves, were cold and the tips of my fingers were numb!

All this time, Moki has been roughly following me, and eating along the way.  I have to keep an eye on him in the early mornings like this, because about two blocks over, coyotes had stolen someone's dog from out of their yard.  Plus there are some mountain lions around, also.  Sunrise and sunset are the key times, but the coyotes had done it in broad daylight.  This is still a wild area, and for that, I am grateful.  But careful is the best policy.

The afternoon feeding . . . about four . . . is safer, but I can't take Moki out with me then.  The mud isn't frozen anymore, and he comes back in after walking into the horse enclosures with soaked and muddy feet.  Even in the mornings, his feet aren't clean when he gets home, but I hate to deprive him of his great pleasure.

I have a quote to share with you:  "Go where you most feel like yourself."  THIS, This here . . . what I am doing and living now . . . this is the true me.  I was meant to be around horses, and I don't know how that got away from me for so very long.  Horses are my people.  I am happy here.

FIGHT or FLIGHT COMPLETED . . . hit the button too early, sorry. This one's complete.

Pearl chose flight.  Of course there was nothing really to fight . . . so it was pretty much her only choice, other than just standing there and watching.  Let me start from the beginning.  Carol and I went out for a ride, Carol riding Scout and me riding Pearl.  Scout is Pearl's brother.  Before they moved here, Pearl used to go out alone with Scout, but since being here, she has never gone out with just another horse.  She did really well.  But as we were riding along, suddenly a horse-eating deer jumped out from behind a bush!  Well, it wasn't really a horse-eating deer, it was just a plain deer, but Pearl got it mixed up.  She took off in a flash!  It was such a weird sensation . . . one minute quietly riding, and the next minute, everything was a blur!  I got her stopped in fifteen or twenty feet, but it was altogether an interesting experience.  Pearl stopped when I asked her to, and I was able to see what it was like to try to stop a "runaway" horse.  Definitely interesting.  And of course, the rest of the ride was amazingly wonderful!

A couple days later, I went on another ride with Carol and her husband.  We trailered out to a nearby trailhead.  It's an interesting trail, but too long, so Carol and her husband created their own trail.  Carol wanted me to be the leader, but I didn't always know which way to go.  I'd ridden that trail a lot, but never as the leader.  When you're behind another horse, you just follow where they go, and since they are in front of you, you know that it's a viable place to go.  One time, when Carol pointed out which way to go, it was like, you've got to be kidding me.  She said, go ahead, and I urged Surprise forward.  We made it!  It's always an adventure out here, and I love it!!  I thank my lucky stars every day at the situation that I'm now living in.  It's like heaven itself!

Yesterday, I was supposed to meet a guy that I had "met" from online dating.  He lives several hours from here, but was in Prescott for a workshop of some kind.  We were supposed to meet between 12:30 and 1:00, so I got there at 12:40.  I stepped into the restaurant . . . there was a slick looking bar to the left with about twelve empty seats, so he wasn't there.  In the center, toward the back, was a huge and beautiful Buddha.To the right several couples were sitting at tables.  So I walked back outside to wait.

There was a bench in front of the next business, so I sat there to wait for him.  After a few minutes a woman walked by with a cute, little dog.  It sniffed my feet, so I asked it if it smelled Moki.  Then I asked the woman what kind of dog . . . it had really pretty coloring.  She said it was chihuahua and weiner dog . . . and made a comment about how beautiful it was, and then something about her.  The dog wasn't and neither was she.  Then she sat down at the other side of the bench.  Neither of us spoke, and I kept looking for the guy.  I considered telling her why I was there, but didn't.  A few minutes later, she stands up, walks  a few paces away, and says something about God and danger.  I blinked, looked at her, and felt really weird.  I said, "I'm supposed to meet a guy here from online dating, is this a warning from God?"  She said that if I think it is, then it probably is, and she walked off.  WEIRD WEIRD WEIRD . . . and . . . I have to say . . . it scared me a little.

The guy wasn't showing and I kept looking at my watch as the minutes ticked by.  I walked back in to ask the woman at the counter, but she was on the phone, so I walked back outside without looking again inside . . . I had seen everyone who came in, and it wasn't him.  I went to my car at least three times to see if he had sent me a message that he was going to be late, but nothing.  Finally, after one o'clock, I walked in again to ask the girl if someone had come in.  She said, "Are you Jerri?"  He was already there!  He had been there since 12:30, but the first time he was sitting in a spot where I couldn't see him, and the second time I went in, he had moved, but I didn't look.

Anyway, he was an interesting guy, but for me?  I don't know.  He really liked me, he's kind of a horsey guy, but I don't know.  It's not that the "warning" scared me . . . he seems innocent enough, but I don't know if there was a "click" there.  Then I think that with Don, there wasn't a click until the second date . . . so . . . who knows?

Junior High with Wrinkles

The other night in one of my dreams, howling coyotes took on a prominent role.  I woke up, and sure enough, right outside my window were howling coyotes.  I smiled and fell back to sleep.  The following day, I was driving home and as I was within a mile of the place . . . on the top of a high telephone pole sat a hawk.  I looked up, he looked down, and we were both amazed!  I am sure he was the same hawk that I saw the first day I came to look at this place.  How lucky I am to be here.  I am grateful every single day for the situation where I am now living.

Yesterday, I was out in the arena doing my earthing.  I had on a heavy coat, a warm hat that came down over my ears, and bare feet on the dirt.  The only way I can stand sitting in the cold out there, is if I play a game on my iPad.  Carol rode by the arena.  She was going to have her husband take some video of the horse she was riding.  She asked if I wanted to go riding today.  A group we're in was having a ride.  But last time they had a ride, it was a lot of rigamarole, a lot of waiting around, and not much riding.  Plus, tonight is my gaming night.  So I said no.  I said no!  To riding!  Horses!  What an incredible luxury to not have to grab every chance at riding that I might get.  Again, I am so lucky.

Yesterday during the day, I joined a new group.  I didn't know what to expect . . . it was an all women discussion group.  It was awesome!  I had a great time and met some really nice people.  We did a lot of laughing, and it was an easy atmosphere.  I will definitely go back.

I had met a couple of the women before—one from the singles group that I'm in.  She described the group as "junior high with wrinkles."  I thought that was funny . . . and unfortunately, appropriate.

Happy New Year!

I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so I didn't really want to go.  I had a gaming night and when I slipped into bed, all I could think about was a new story that I'd been working on.  Minutes and then hours passed by, and I still couldn't sleep.  So when I woke up after only three or four hours sleep, there was no way I was going to go.  And truth be known, I was a little afraid.  It had snowed a few days before, and although it had warmed up "a little" it was still pretty icy and slick out.  Did I mention how cold it was?  And I had never ridden a horse in the snow.

So when I walked into her house on that frigid morning, I had intended to completely wimp out and not go.  It would have been my first ride of the new year, but you know, there would be other rides—rides that weren't so cold and weren't so slick.  But when I walked into the warm house that smelled of sweet things for the pot luck later that day, and I saw the house cleaned up and ready for a party, I really felt like a wimp for wimping out.  But what really convinced me was that Susie was there, smiling as usual, and ready for the ride.  And Deb was ready to ride, and of course Carol was ready to ride, because she was leading the ride.

So I put my big-girl panties on, and said that I would go.  Susie asked Carol if she could ride Scout.  He is a spotted horse that is only three years old but acts bomb-proof.  I've ridden with him more than a dozen times, and he's only spooked twice.  And there are a LOT of things out there to spook about.  So Carol tilts her head and says that the safest horse to ride is Taffy.  She is a champagne colored horse—she looks just like a palomino—and a sweet little thing.  Immediately, I pipe up and say, "Can I ride Taffy?!!!"  You would have thought I was an auctioneer as fast as those words tumbled out of my mouth!

Susie rode Scout, Deb rode her horse, Utah, a spotted Tennessee Walker, Carol rode Surprise, a sweet spotted horse who is one of my favorites, and I rode gentle Taffy, who hadn't been ridden in quite awhile.  And it showed.  After saddling her, I climbed aboard and she wanted to go, go, go instead of waiting for everyone else to get ready.  So I kept turning her in circles so she'd behave.  It didn't make me feel any better about the ride!

Off we go.  First out of the driveway and then about two blocks on the dirt road/street.  Parts of it were icy.  Carol's horse, Surprise, slipped a little because she was shod on all four feet.  Some of the other horses were just shod in the front, and Taffy had no shoes on at all.  After a few minutes, we were off the street (breathe a sigh of relief for no more cars to deal with, although there are few) and into a wash.  I've ridden Taffy many times—she was the first horse that I rode here—and on this day she was a little antsy.  Although, Taffy is so gentle that even when she's a little antsy, she is still pretty gentle.  So it wasn't a problem.

I wore my heavy horsey coat and my driving/riding (thinsulate) gloves.  Deb suggested that I take a scarf, and I wrapped it up on my neck so it partially covered my ears under my helmet.  Not everyone wears a helmet around here, and I never did before, but I do now.  When I used to ride motorcycles, my brother called it a brain basket, and I never rode without one.  So now, I never ride horses without one. I also had my lined jeans on and wool socks.  I kept mostly warm except my feet.  Even with wool socks, they still got cold with the cowboy boots on.  Perhaps next year I'll try to find some lined cowboy boots.  Unless I'm riding bareback, which I haven't done for a while, the shoes I wear must have distinct heels.  Many winter boots don't or have a "kind of" heel—which wouldn't work.  I always wear a helmet, and I always wear boots with a heel.  No compromise there.



The ride went smoothly and we took a shortcut to avoid a part of one wash that had many rocks in it.  Because of the snow, you couldn't see the rocks.  During another part of the ride, everyone stopped.  I had to move Taffy up to see what everyone was looking at up in a tree.  It was a big, beautiful bald eagle!  It was so cool!  We weren't that far away, but it didn't move.  We looked at it, and it looked at us, and I think everyone was amazed.  It just stayed there.  Finally we rode slowly away.  We rounded a corner and saw the bird at a different angle.  Then Taffy started to pee.  When Carol didn't notice (she was far ahead of me with many riders in between), I had to call out for her to wait.  Unfortunately, my loud voice scared the bird, and on outstretched wings, it flew away.  When it took off, it spooked the horses a bit.  I felt bad that I had been the one to scare it away, when I had been so enraptured by its beauty.  After a few more minutes and another bend in the trail, we discovered why the bald eagle had been waiting there so patiently:  a deer carcass.  It was hidden in the grass, and all I could see were some antlers, slightly askew.  Life goes on.



When we returned from the ride, we all enjoyed the pot luck inside the house.  There were many more people inside, most of whom I didn't know . . . members of the horse group that Carol is in.  I mostly talked to Deb and Susie and did all right.  This party thing doesn't get to me like it used to . . . which is a good thing!  So, life is good.