Cow's Hill? What?

After a lifetime of residency in a lovely town called CowTown, I have moved.

Life is full of ups and downs, and my life is no exception.

I have spent the last two months moving to a new location: I live in a tiny bungalow in a town about fourteen kilometres South of my beloved Ranch.

I am now officially a resident of Cow's Hill instead of CowTown.

The choice to move was a difficult one. Do I want to leave the security of home? Do I want to strike out on my own? Do I want to be responsible for filling up my own windshield washer fluid? (Something my father has done for me for the past four years!) Do I want to come home every day to myself and no one but myself?

Well, no. I don't want that. I don't want to come home to an empty house.

So a condition of my moving was that I bring my eleven and a half year old Beagle with me.

Dixie initially had mixed reactions about the move. So did everyone who knew her. People thought that moving Dixie after years of her having the whole run of all of CowTown would kill her. Dixie was initially anxious about her new home. (As was I). However, after about a week, she realized that her new house came with pizza, treats, and the full rin of the couch.

Since then, she has gained weight, gained shine, and gained a love for sleeping in bed with a person. I have never seen Dixie as happy as I have seen her these past months.

In my new home, I have no phone, no television, and no Internet.

Sometimes people ask me how I live. Once, a person even referred to me as "a Pioneer". I mean, realistically, I live in a house insulated with straw. I have no internet, no phone, and no cable. I also happen to milk cows in my spare time.

So perhaps I may just be like a pioneer.

Only, I'm the type who comes with a Chevrolet Cruze and an Iphone.

I'm going to make it a point to blog at least once a week because I love my blog and I love my readers. The problem lies with the fact that I must blog via an Iphone, because in my new house in Cow's Hill, I have no Internet.

But my Beagle and I do have happiness, and that is the most important thing.

Should I Post?

What should I write about? My mother's puppy named Lucy, who torments me but who I am trying every day to love? About my new car that is not an SUV but that does have very sexy tires? Should I write about the fiasco that was procuring them? The boy I had to flirt with shamelessly to get those tires?

Should I write about how my mother broke her toe underneath a horse? Should I write about the vacation I took from riding when my hopes and dreams began to fall apart at the end of February? Should I write about how, when my vacation from riding horses turned into a hiatus, I decided not to return to riding?

Should I write about how I feel like I'm missing a leg without riding but at the same time I'm so very, very happy about my decision? Should I write about how, every time someone asks me if I've quit, I feel like screaming "Yes, I've quit, because my fucking horse is dead!" Maybe that would be overkill, but maybe it would get people to stop asking.

Maybe instead I should write about the little boy I used to work with, and how I fought and fought to be allowed to still visit him every week. Maybe I should write about how every now and then, when I'm on one of those visits I fought to get, he looks into my eyes and the entire world is cured of its ills because he smiles at me. That's all it takes.

I could write about work but it would bore you to tears, so I won't even go there.

Should I write about my beautiful guitar that hung on my wall for about four years never being touched? About how I quit touching that guitar due to a burst of stage fright I had one night, which was when I quit playing and singing?



Maybe I should talk about getting back on stage again. How my anxiety is more related to fixing my hair before a performance than the performance itself.



I could equally write about how I've begun to sing and write music again. I've been playing my guitar until the unfortunate souls I live with have begged me to please, please shut up so they could have a moment's peace. I could write about the vocal lessons I've signed up for and the record label my vocal coach has recommended me to. I could write about the band I auditioned to sing with last week and how they emailed me again for a call-back. (Or is it a callback?)

I honestly think about writing on this blog every single day. I've no idea how to start or where to start.

I figure that a good place to start would be a picture of me doing what has currently captured my soul.

On The Moosehunter, and Other Dating Woes

On the twenty eighth of October, 2010, I wrote this post. It was before a date with The Moosehunter and my heart was all afflutter.

I'm not sure how to post about The Moosehunter because I was so wrapped up in him for so long that I can't begin to bring it to life with words.

Simply put, I wanted him. I wanted to be with him and I wanted everything he represented (or rather, what I thought he represented) to be my life.

And at the end of October, I got it all.

I'll never forget the day he walked into my new living room, scooped me into his arms, and proceeded to watch horror movies with me. And then the banter and the chatting and the cuddling that proceeded to follow. My heart almost fell right out of my chest after the first horror movie ended and he suggested we watch another.

The following weekend, he declared us to be dating while we were driving in his fantastical car. Again, I about fainted. We called each other, we chatted, we met, we had dates.

I was on top of the moon. I was so far over the moon I couldn't even begin to speak. Do romance novels make you swoon? Imagine swooning a thousand times more than any romance novel, and then imagine swooning a thousand times on top of that.

He invited me to haul corn with him one day which is a country girl's dream. He met me at the end of my driveway at six o'clock in the morning and I clambered up into his eighteen wheeler and proceeded to have the date of my dreams. He spent the whole day calling me "Rubber Ducky" as I [mis]guided him through the highways of Montreal. We got lost, we were turned around. We had no idea where we were except that we were headed East. We giggled and laughed and talked like we were the best of friends. He asked me to read the map for him and I told him he was barking up the wrong tree if he wanted me to get him anywhere because I'm hopeless. He just giggled his shy, country guy giggle and said "Ten-Four, Rubber Ducky." Every time he said it my heart leapt into my throat and I struggled to breathe for a few seconds afterwards.

For four long weeks I was walking around with a stupid grin on my face that nothing, no one could remove.

I was chatting with Joomy during one of our long overdue dinner and coffee dates and getting ready to leave when he called me. I was actually in the restroom when he called and she screamed "It's The Moosehunter!" I scrambled out of her bathroom and we chatted for seventeen minutes. Joomy was grinning and giving me the thumbs up in the backround as I pranced and leapt around her living room. I am the least dainty person in the world. It has been said that I have the grace of an elephant.

But his phone call made me leap and twirl around Joomy's living room because he was talking to me.

The rain was pouring down, I was out of gas and the roads weren't good, but I drove to his house because he had invited me to do so and my heart was in the sky.

I honestly couldn't believe that finally, after all this time of waiting, my dreams were coming true. I wanted him and he had clearly displayed to me that he wanted me. Everything was finally perfect. I'd lost my horse, lost my job, my car was quite literally duct taped together. But I had my Moosehunter and nothing would keep me down.

Upon arrival to his house I was unceremoniously dumped with no reason cited. I've dated plenty of people and I've been dumped several times. I have to say that this was the worst dumping I've ever been a party to.

Unceremoniously.

Dumped.

If it is shocking to those who know me, it is most of all shocking to me that I have shed only a single tear over The Moosehunter. I left his house and carried on with my life, going to work and riding horses and cuddling on the couch with my Beagle.

The tear I shed over him was like something out of the movies, much like our time dating was like something out of the movies. I was carpooling to work with my coworker and she just kept repeating "I can't believe it. After all that's happened, I just can't believe it." And at that time, feeling the way I was feeling, a single tear escaped my right eye and I thought I would lose it completely. It rolled sadly down my cheek; I wiped it away with my gloved hand, took a deep breath and a sip of my coffee.

That was the only tear I've shed over The Moosehunter.

In discussing this with Mal over the past months, we've come to a conclusion: My time with boys needs to end. Upon reviewing my history, I've lived at home for three and a half years. During those three and a half years, there has always, at some point, been some object of my affection. If not the object of my affection, then the object of my yearning and really? This needs to end. Mal's proposition was this: Take a six month break. Any guy who comes your way will not recieve any attention or thought or anything else because you're going to be on a six month break.

I allowed this to swirl around in my head for about a week.

The middle of December came along and some innocent individual began messaging me on Facebook. A date came out of this and prior to my date, my mother begged me to think a little more clearly on what I was doing. Surely a six month break from dating couldn't hurt?

I immediately interrogated both Mal and my mother to see if they had been consulting on this matter.

But no. Neither one has been speaking to the other and both these women, who love me and care about me, think I need some time to clear my head.

Joomy doesn't think it possible for me to go six months without some dating drama or other. (Neither, quite frankly, do I).

But I am going to try. My plan, at this point, is to go six months focussing on my work and my riding. No more boys. I don't need the hassle.

The me of a year ago would have fallen over at the thought of not dating for a full six months.

The me of today finds it a rather relaxing thought.

I'll keep you posted on how the next six months go.

I Just Can't Believe I'm Here...

My life has become fantastic all of a sudden and I'm not sure what to do with it. (That is not to say that my life has not always been fantastic but certain stressors have existed over the past few years that have left me feeling rather overwhelmed).

I want to run screaming through the streets about how everything has turned out. I have finally landed that job that I thought I would never, ever get.

Sargeant and I had another ride tonight and I can't get over how well I'm doing with him. While I do enjoy Sargeant he is a little... well, he's a little powerful. He's kinda strong. He likes to go and leave me feeling like a passenger waiting for him to slow down, only he doesn't really slow down of his own free will.

Since my lesson a week ago I've been working on our transitions and I can't get over how well we are doing with them. I haven't been turning into a terrified slab of jelly on his back every time he does something and when I have a ride like I had tonight, I feel like I am on top of the world.

I am just so excited. I am excited to start living my life the way I wanted to live it, the way I've been craving to live for the past several years. I get to ride, I get to sleep at home every night, I get to sit on my couch, I get to socialize when I want to socialize.

I also have my own living room now that the Clifford Cave has been rejuvinated. Yesterday I gave Dixie a Thanksgiving bath, thinking that I would be thankful for a Beagle who doesn't smell like a combination of the creek, fish, mud, decomposing raccoon (Her favorite thing to roll in), and barn. I washed her thoroughly, starting out with dog shampoo and then giving up because it just wasn't cutting it. I then proceeded to wash my Beagle using Pantene shampoo and conditioner and OH MY WORD. Her hair has never shone so brightly.

After Dixie's bath, I used the blow dryer on her which left her feeling less than impressed. After that, however, I invited her for a nap with me in the Clifford cave and we curled up together, in all of her glorious smelling goodness, and slept the way a Beagle and the person who loves her should.

Things are looking pretty good.

Steps To A More Positive Me

I've been feeling sad and dejected of late. This has resulted in too much time spent in jammies on the couch, too much time not doing anything productive, and too much time eating large quantities of food. Especially food slathered with gravy.

Or Hollandaise sauce.

Sometimes in the same sitting.

The past couple days have been good ones, a kick I want to stay on. As such, I thought I'd share some goals with you:

1: Move. Every day, move. I'm a crazy person, so excercise is really good for my mind. It expends all that excess energy that would otherwise be devoted to panic attacks and curling up in a ball in my bed.

2: Keep working on school. My original goal was to have a Master's degree before I'm thirty. Now that I'm working full time at two jobs, riding daily, and trying to find time to, oh, you know... exist, it is kind of hard to keep up with the school work. So my new goal is to die with a Master's degree. If it happens to come by the time I'm thirty, I'll be happy. Regardless, it needs to happen at some point in time.

3: Stop moping. No more laying around bemoaning the state of my life. If, at any point, I start to lay around and bemoan, I will then spend at least an hour completing goal one or two.

4: Praise God. Or give thanks to God, or something. I've already started giving at least ten minutes a day to God, thanking Him for all the wonder that exists in my life. When I start to mope, I need to then refer back to goal number three, spend time completing goal numbers one and two, and offer up a prayer of thanks that I am in such a position to even have goals number one and two.

5: LIVE THIS LIFE. I have a life, and dammit, it's a good one. I need to snap out of it and realize how truly lucky and blessed I am.

6: Love my horse. Adore my Beagle. They are truly 'my people'. They never let me down, they are always there when I need them, and they tolerate my late at night, off-key singing without complaint. Hey, who else can boast that they have characters willing to put up with that in their lives?

Boulet Boots

I love boots. I have always loved boots and I suspect I will always love boots. I do not wear fashionable boots or even boots that most people find attractive. Since I was ten, my feet have been clad, year round, in Doc Martens.

Over the years, however, many people have complained about going out with me because it takes me approximately fifty and a half hours to tie up my boots before I walk out the door. As such, last year at tax time, I ran out and bought myself a pair of dress cowboy boots.

My life has not been the same since. I love them. I love the click of them when I walk across a parking lot, I love the pointed toe when I look down and see them. I love a perfectly hemmed pair of jeans sitting around them and I love them with a denim mini-skirt (Which I've only gotten up the nerve to wear once but it was the county fair and I simply had to).

My boots are Frye boots, not Boulet boots. Boulet boots, for those of you not in the know, are the be-all, end-all of boots. I have been chastised by many people for my choice in boots but last year's tax return would not afford me Boulet boots. Sigh. My Frye boots haven't behaved in exactly the fashion I want them to behave in. They are still completely functional but they need to be resoled as the sole of one of them has started to fall apart and come off.

Fast forward to yesterday: I found out the amount of money I am getting is quite substantial. Life-altering, even.

Immediately visions of beautiful Boulet boots started dancing in my head. I was picturing the new saddle I would buy for my horse, the clothing I would purchase as I frequently look like a homeless person when dressed in my own attire.

And then I sat down in front of my computer and realized a few things. Here is a breakdown of my financial situation:

Tax check in the mail = $10 less than what I owe on my vehicle
Amount in savings = $20 less than what I owe on my Visa
Amount of excess in next pay check = amount I owe my parents

And my heart is saying to me BOOTS. YOU NEED BOOTS. GIRL, GET YOURSELF SOME DAMN BOOTS.

But my head. Oh, my stupid head is saying -- in a fashion much less direct than my heart -- that I should pay off all my debts and have a chance to be at zero for a while.

I'm sure that Joomy will step in here and offer some encouragement in making the right decision.

And then A Good Thing Happened

And then I almost cried.

And then I did a little bit -- maybe even a lot -- of shrieking. I shrieked into phones, I shrieked via text message, I shrieked at my steering wheel, and I shrieked at other drivers who I passed on the road.

I went for a job interview on Monday morning and I knew that a decision was to be made by day's end. I left feeling great: I rocked the questions, I was dressed to the nines (the girl in before me was wearing cords! Corduroys! Or however it is you spell them!) and I didn't say "Uhm" a whole lot.

I returned to my house beaming and decided to nap until my phone rang with the good news.

School ends at like, three in the afternoon, for those of you not in the know.

At four o'clock I was laying in my bed in the depths of despair. Four o'clock is not a good sign at all. Four o'clock means no job. I had an outing planned that night and I knew it was too late to cancel. I would have to put makeup on and pretend to be social and happy and go out. I would have to interact with other human beings, and I don't know if you know this or not, but human interaction is not one of my strong points. In fact, it usually ends up in drunken debauchery or awkward silences.

At four thirty I managed to roll out of bed, slap some foundation over my acne, and drive listlessly down my driveway. The phone rang and I didn't want to answer it but I sadly reached into my pocket and answered the phone.

And it was HIM. The principal. From the school. OFFERING ME A JOB.

A JOB. WORK.

Like, one of those things you do in exchange for money.

I walked in on my first day and got high fives from staff and kids. My mother's high school best friend works at the school and ran up to me and hugged me in the hall way. Physiotherapists and occupational therapists and other EA's have been congratulating me all week. I feel like I've won gold for Canada, for cripe's sake.

I also picked a great week to start: All the kids were away my first day, the second day I supervised a school dance, and the third day is a "Professional Development Day". Where we develop ourselves professionally.

We get BREAKS on this job. And weekends off. And the kids aren't at the school between the hours of three p.m. and eight a.m. and do you know what that means?

I WILL NEVER HAVE TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT MY NEW JOB.

Unfortunately, I will also never be able to wear cowboy boots and a Metallica T-shirt to work, but I suppose this is a small price to pay.

Oh, You Knew It Was Coming... Part I

So, here I am.

Two successful weeks of working at the school board and hot damn, I feel like I'm on fire. I'm really happy with my performance in the school and I actually feel like I've found a calling, so to speak, working with the kids I work with.

So Wednesday, I went to work at ten a.m. I arrived back in my driveway here at The Ranch, followed by Mal, at five o'clock Thursday. I did a twenty seven hour stint at two different locations and I could hardly hold my head up by six p.m. Friday I started my day by leaving at 7:15 a.m. and I returned to my house at eleven.

I'm sure that Zydeco misses me. Dixie threw a fit when I walked in the door tonight, like "HEY! YOU! I remember you! The napping! The one I used to do all that napping with! Now MUPPY ME!!!"

If nothing else, I suppose it is good to be missed.

I knew that I would have to work double for a while, until something contract or permanent comes up. I've done it before, I can do it again.

But OH MY WORD I am exhausted.

I Have Never Been Happier to Make Second Place...

So, the job I interviewed called me tonight and made my heart stop a little bit before I was told that I didn't get it.

I was then debriefed on my interview, which I appreciated to no end because the questions are all fairly standard and I really feel that next time, I'll be ready to knock some socks off.

At the end of our nearly half-hour phone call, the woman said "Now, I don't know if you want to hear this next part or not." I laughed politely and said that of course I would love to hear the next part. (In my mind, however, I was wondering wildly if I had something sticking in my teeth or was emanating a noxious odor and perhaps she was going to tell me that I smelled like Beagle that had rolled in something that had died a number of months ago).

But no. She told me that she had interviewed eight people and that my scores left me second in line to get the position.

Second! Second out of eight!

I'm actually happy with this news because A) it means that I'm not a blathering idiot who no one will ever take seriously and B) IT MEANS I AM ON MY WAY.

In other news, I have now done three consecutive days at a school that I like very, very much. Like, I really look forward to going in every day, I've been welcomed with open arms by the other staff, and I feel like I have really found my element with the special needs students there.

At the end of my second day, the section head took me aside and told me that a position would be opening up on Monday, he had heard good things about me since I started, and urged me to apply for the position.

I just really feel right now that at least something is going right in my life. I may still be the single, beagle-cuddling poor person who lives in a Clifford-clad bedroom, BUT HEY. Someone thinks I'm good at something and right now, I'm going to take all the ego-stroking I can get.

And Now, I Need to Lather, Rinse, Repeat Nine More Times

So I have been working on courses to upgrade my degree so that I can eventually get my Master's. A Master's in what, I have not decided, but I want a Master's in something.

So first the Honours. I need ten fourth year classes: Three in Sociology (My major), three in Psychology (My minor), three electives, and one in statistics. The last course will probably make me cry on numerous occasions as I am what I call Mathematically Retarded. That is to say, I can not do math in any capacity and basic addition tends to do me in. I don't know how I will get through the stats course, but I'm not focusing on that right now.

I finished my first course over a month ago and have simply not gone back and checked my marks.

In order to get in to the program I think I want, I need to have an eighty or above in the last ten classes of university. Which means that all ten of these classes I need to put my all into.

I need to get straight A's here.

And I'm terrified that I don't have what it takes to be an A student. So I haven't checked my mark because finding out that I didn't meet my goal this early in the game would have been very upsetting.

I put a heck of a lot of effort into the first half of this course, and then I hurriedly wrote up the last portions of it, having friends prrof read my essays in states of semi-sobriety and hoping that it would do the trick because I had procrastinated so much.

So with much wariness about me, I checked my grade last night.

And I got an 88% in the course!

Relief. Oh, sweet heavens, the relief.

My current course is a developmental psychology course, which is appearing easy now but requires a bit more work as there is a formal exam and another term paper included in it.

Let's hope that it doesn't end up being fifty pages of work crammed into the last two weeks before the course deadline.

This Will Not Take Two Seasons...

Years ago I went through a breakup. Surprise! That breakup, which I posted snipets of, was chronicled somewhat on my blog. I was thinking about how to blog about my current topic when that breakup came to mind, and I recalled that it took me a whole season of Road To Avonlea and a season of ER to get over it.

I do remember opening the gift of Road To Avonlea and thinking, this is exactly what I need when the breakup happens. As it stood, it took me more than a season of Road To Avonlea and as a result, directly after that, I moved on to ER. I sat on my couch with Dixie, I watched mindless television, and I recovered.

I've done this in the past, needed something to distract me while I move on.

I went shopping today and bought a book by Marian Keyes, who I think I love more than anyone in the world right now. Her novels are fantastic and if you start reading them, please start with Rachel's Holiday as it made me laugh and laugh until I was nearly in tears. Wonderful author, that Marian.

I had high hopes for my current dating situation and like so many others, it just hasn't turned out the way I imagined. Mal asked me how I was feeling about some decisions I've made and when I told her, there was silence on the line. And then she said "Ouch. That sounds like it hurts."

Yeppers!

The fact of the matter here is that I am not in the depths of despair. I have moments in the day where I feel kinda sad, and the odd time over the past two weeks I've felt, momentarily, like I've been punched in the gut, but other than that, I'm totally fine.

So I'm making the decision to not require a minimum of six weeks' worth of mindless television. I'm giving this one a book. A Marian Keyes book.

I will read it in peace in my parents' living room with my trusty deer hound by my side.

In about seventy two hours, I will have moved on (And I say this with utter confidence) and then?

Then, Dear Blog, I will post the exciting details of my new job, which is looming closer and closer to me each day.

There is hope!

And it is MINE

The job called me today.

IT IS MINE.

A few more minor details to work out, and things are starting to look up.

The moose hunter and I had another date on Friday. Turns out, he did call me upon his return but I missed the call.

I feel like I should be using a lot more capital letters and superfluous punctuation in this post, considering how much I wanted both of these things.

I just got off yet another overnight and I am planning on completing my course work today so that I can celebrate in true style later in the week.

Once that is done, prepare yourself for the onslaught on PUNCTUATION AND CAPS, Baby.

So, So Tired...

I just finished a twenty five hour shift.

Working the way I work is kind of insane, I get that, and I am the one who chooses to keep going back there. I get that, too.

But right now this is the job that is paying for my trusty JEEP; my new computer (the one that has a functioning K key, even); My horse's many, many needs; my newfound addiction to Booster Juice; and of course, that whole thirty thousand dollars worth of education thing. Right. That.

And really, I just need to whine. I came home with every intention of working on my final for this class. I really did. But I just wanted to sit and reconnect with the fact that a world exists outside of twenty five hour shifts. So shoot me. I sat at my computer for an hour. And then my mother came home from an outing she was on, so I chatted for a little while with her. I took a call from the Berry Queen and then BAM.

The exhaustion hit me. I always do this, I think that I can just stay awake until the next normal sleeping hour but the fact is that I rarely, if ever, can. And then I'll be sitting somewhere, having a can of pop and functioning relatively normally and suddenly I feel as though I've been drinking. I start to mutter my words, my eyes just won't stay open and it is generally not safe for me to operate heavy equipment.

So I collapsed into my bed with Dixie for two and a half hours, thinking that this would suffice to get me through the rest of the day and when Dixie and I woke up I still was not able to function.

Working this long honestly makes me feel as though I have a hangover. I'm kind of shaky from the caffeine I drink to get me through the shifts. I generally have a mild headache, mild stomach upset and sometimes a very irritable outlook on life.

I now want nothing more than to write up fifty pages of final sociological information on consumerism and globalism and neo-liberalism but I am JUST SO TIRED. I really feel like I am not going to get this course done and that the next nine courses are an insurmountable task.

Today is a good day, so I think I'm going to stay positive. On a bad day, I might weep uncontrollably and curl up in the fetal position. I think I'll go right now, hydrate myself with some flavored water, drink down another pot of coffee, curl up with my nephew to watch Survivor and swear to myself that I will do some form of productive work after the water and coffee set in.

One Morning After Work...

I just dropped off my computer at the computer guy's house. It appears that it will cost the same to replace my computer as it will to fix the old one.

I have a fifty page final to write (And no, that's not a misprint. My take home final for this ridiculous course I'm taking is FIFTY PAGES LONG.)

Oh, and I have no computer.

I just got off of an overnight shift which usually puts me in a terrible mood to begin with.

The job I interviewed for has not called me. A coworker tried to console me last night, saying that it's the company's loss to not get me as a worker. I thought it was very nice of her to say but I couldn't help but point out that it is really my loss because I still have to work for my current company.

The moose hunter has not called nor do I believe he is going to.

And I just checked and yep! My computer is still broken.

Oh, and fifty pages of work to write remain on my to do list.

I haven't felt this defeated, rejected and deflated in a very, very long time.

A Plan...

I have a plan of sorts.

And really, I'm aggitated that I have to even make a plan for this sort of thing. Like, really? I'm twenty five years old. That's right. I'm TWENTY FIVE YEARS OLD. And I still have to plan this sort of thing.

Four days ago, I wrote this post.

I was feeling deflated and confused and then elated that I had done something so productive as to have clicked my mouse and make my desktop pretty.

(This is, in fact, the sort of thing my life has come down to. Sigh)

I wrote that post after another date with The Cowboy.

(Only instead of riding up on a wonderful steed and riding double into the sunset, he drives up in a North American car. If only he'd shown up in a golf shirt and flip flops with a Mitsubishi Lancer, I don't think I would have nearly as much trouble with this. But he does things with his spare time like hunting moose and he doesn't look at me in horror when I talk about things like mud and guns and blaze orange. And I have to say, I'm a sucker for someone who digs blaze orange.)

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS GUY.

Does he dig me like I dig a twelve guage shotgun? Does he think that opening day of deer season is the best day for a date all year? Does he want to sit by the river decked out in camo with pockets full of bird shot, talking in whispers until dark? How would he feel if I took his car out and spun the tires on the gravel? How would he feel if I took out my JEEP and spun up some mud?

I have all these pertinent questions to ask and now he's off chasing Bullwinkle eighty thousand miles away.

And I know he's in his blaze orange.

At any rate, I have a plan. It took me days to come up with this plan, lots of thinking and calculating and practicing while I drive down the road in my oh-so-sexy JEEP.

I'm going to call him.

That's right. Twenty five years later, I am grown up enough to come up with a plan that involves calling a person on the phone.

Only I have to wait until he returns from his chasing of Bullwinkle.

And while that happens, I am going to write this essay that has been weighing on my mind and also? Also?

I'm going to stop being a crazy person.

Don't say I have no goals, dammit.

Please?

Please, Dear World and whatever else is out there that is willing to listen:

Please, please, please could I have a job? Could I have one that allows some semblance of social life, whereby I work when the rest of the world works and play when the rest of the world plays?

Could I have an evening to sit and watch TV with my family? Could I be guaranteed vacation time? Could I have a vacation?

Could I go out to a bar on a weekend with my friends and not have to get up and rush to work the next day?

Could I have two days off in a row?

Could I try to have a social gathering on some night other than a Monday night because my night off is a night other than a Monday night?

PLEASE CAN I HAVE THIS JOB?

I have to say that I really feel like I rocked the interview. I was dressed appropriately, I wore lucky underwear, my shoes were shiny and I was free of lint. My eye makeup was just right, I didn't have food stuck in my teeth, I shook people's hands with just the right amount of force and I was punctual and pleasant.

The woman recognized the name of one of my references and I hope she didn't think that I was trying to name drop or get a favor, but my reference tells me I'm as good as in.

All I have to do is wait for my call.

It is times like these that I wish I was a more patient person.

An Opportunity Has Knocked..

I got a call today that I have been waiting for for a very, very long time.

I got a call to work at a job that, at this point in my life, qualifies as my dream job. I have an interview tomorrow.

My clothing is ironed, my hairstyle is planned, the directions are printed and in my purse.

Now all I have to do is not cackle like a hyena when I get nervous and maybe, just maybe the job will be mine.

A job that does not entail nights, weekends, insidious overnights, and the multitude of other things that I don't like about my current situation.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up while simultaneously wanting to climb to the tops of tall buildings and scream that SOMETHING MAY FINALLY BE GOING RIGHT.

Updates to follow.

If Nothing Else...

I had a day today that I should be proud of, and now at half past two a.m., I'm sitting here feeling deflated.

I had just closed my browser to go to bed for the night when I saw my desktop, and realized that earlier today I had tidied it up.

And then I felt happy that I had been so productive as to clean my desktop while I was procrastinating on writing an essay.

And now I'm going to bed happy because I was, in fact, productive today.

My desktop is tidy!

Sometimes we need to take pride in the small things in life and apparently, I am no exception.

A Lot More Than Eighteen Hours Later...

Apparently not sleeping the night before a big event and then running around like a maniac the day after the big event makes you too sleepy to post on your blog.

Who knew?

The day started with my horse being an asshat over the trailer, and ended in much the same fashion. We gave up playing tough guy with Zydeco over the trailer in the morning, and instead I spent thirty minutes tickling his nose with a carrot before he would get on the trailer. Thankfully we had planned in advance for this type of contingency. I lept with glee away from the trailer, called my coach to let her know we made it on the trailer, and made my way to Tim Horton's with my trusty sidekick, Mal. There I ordered a decaf coffee and a BLT because I feel strongly that any big day should start out with lots and lots of bacon.

Zydeco backed daintily out of the trailer and I had no concerns over handling him this year as A) my confidence in handling him has grown and B) he was not acting at all like a crazed maniac.



We went to the warmup ring and I did my best not to have a panic attack over the fact that I would be competing in an equitation class. Equitation class is essentially a test in riding while looking as though you are putting no effort into it. I guess you can't really know about riding unless you've done a lot of it, but it takes quite a bit to perform any task on 1200 pounds of forward impulsion without flailing your arms and legs about.

I also had to canter in a ring with other horses, which I was very scared about. Zydo loves to follow other horses, and does not like to leave a pack once he has found one. In equitation you are riding about the ring taking care not to collide head on with other riders, trying your best to do your own thing. At one point I was not able to turn him away from another rider and he was going with his nose practically on that horses's butt. This is poor manners and I had to work very hard to not let him go with the other horse when she turned away from us. We kept it together, though, and managed to canter our circles and long sides quite well.



We also had to do a run of sitting trot, which I find very hard to do on Zydo. I have actually not practiced this at all as I have pretty much given up. Zydo's trot is quite large and bouncy and to not rise with each step is tricky. However, they called to see a sitting trot and I did my best.

Apparently, my best was the best in the ring and we walked out with a first place ribbon. I thanked the girl very much for handing me my ribbon and prepared to give my acceptance speech while everyone left the ring. Apparently first level dressage shows are quite unlike the Emmys in that respect. But I teared up and scratched my beautiful boy and thanked him and told him he was wonderful and I left with a glowing smile on my face.



It was then back to the warmup ring to try and get Zydeco together for our first test. We were doing training level test one and three this year. These tests included the element of canter and Zydeco has done his best for me. When I first got him I could not canter him for the life of me. He would bear down on the reins, tear them out of my hands, and take off at (what felt like) full speed every time. This year we have done magnificent canter work. I've found my seat (IN the saddle! Who would have thought!) and I've been so, so proud of both myself and my horse.

The first circle of the test was very wonky and it was not circular at all. We then changed diagonals and Zydeco started sneezing which removed the reins from my grips before our first canter. We managed to sort of pull it together, but he was not in contact with the bit which was the entire point of the excercise. My reader (The girl who was telling me which moves to perform at which points in the ring) then called out for us to canter, and Zydeco listened to her instead of me. I managed to pull him back to trot, but this upset him and when I asked him to canter at the proper point in time, he bucked on me.

I stayed on but was mortified as the buck happened directly in front of the judges and there is no way they missed it. I was shaken up at this point because Zydeco doesn't buck. Our next canter circle was not circular and he tried to get away from me, but I perservered. When the reader called out to turn right at A and trot down centre line, I have never been so relieved in my life.

We did not place in our second ride. And I have to say that after our marvelous success last year that I had no idea I was capable of getting, this was a bit of a hit.

My goals for the show changed drastically with that buck. Initially I was aiming to get a ribbon in each class, in any place. Suddenly I was aiming to stay with the horse and not land on my face in the show ring. I managed to keep a smile on my face and I laughed and waved at the judges. My posse left the side of the ring without waiting for me and I laughed and said "You can still clap when my horse bucks. It's not the end of the world". I did receieve some sympathetic smiles and I kept myself together even though I wanted to cry.

I got off at that point to have a pop and to regroup. My father walked Zydeco while I sat and debriefed with my mother and my coach. My father returned with the horse and informed us that he had peed for about five consecutive minutes behind a trailer. That explained most of the problem: Zydeco gets quite antsy when he has to pee and he will not do so while under saddle. To me, this explained the entire bucking episode, the reason he was disobedient in the ring, the reason our test had fallen apart.

I then got to watch a couple of my competitors go. And the competition was steep. These girls had their horses together, their movements were purposeful, and their figures we accurate.

I had to choose now: Do I want to fuss with the horse and start a battle over the placement of his nose in front of all these people, risking a blow up? Or do I want to go in and focus more on the accuracy and flow of his movements and hope to get points on that alone? Each disobedience would be worth a minus two. If we could do the test in a nice, flowing rhythm with no disobedience (bucking), we might still place.

Another thought was crossing my mind: Do I want to leave the only show we would be at that year feeling like I felt after the second ride? Do I want to leave feeling embarrased that my horse had bucked and having not ridden a single accurate move?

No. I wanted to leave having had a good ride on my horse, having put forth attractive riding mixed with impulsion and precision.

So that's what I did.

We moved through our second test with nary a disobedience. We performed our transitions at the letters, our circles were quite circular, we were going forward at a nice pace.

And Zydeco's nose was not perpendicular to the ground.

This choice cost us our third ride of the day. We did not place in either of the training level tests.

My coach talked at length with me after each test. She told me I was being ribbon-greedy and that I was being presumptuous that we might get a ribbon this year. Last year my goal was to go to a show and get on the horse. Even riding the test was a bonus after I worked up the nerve to hop on.

This year I thought that I had perhaps come far enough to get ribbons again, and the fact of the matter is that the other riders had their horses together and on the bit.

I was scolded for the choice I made in the second test. If I wanted to have a nice, simple ride on my horse, I could have done that at home. We were there, at a show, for me to work on the skills I've worked at all summer and instead I tried to focus on something else, hoping it would be good enough. I suppose that I have to chalk this up to a learning experience. Now, I can slap myself on the head and say "duh!". But at the time I felt very confident in my decision and I can't very well spend time regretting it now. I don't even regret it, really. I was very scared of another buck, very scared that I might fall off in front of all those people. So I did what made the most sense at the time.

We also talked about how far I have come: There is no way I could have cantered in a show last year. No possible way. I was not secure enough in my seat, I couldn't control the horse at that high speed. Hell, last year I couldn't walk my horse after he got off the trailer and I almost burst into tears when my mother suggested I get on him.

And I have come far. I am so proud of me for working at this all summer, I am so proud of Zydeco for sticking with me and of the trust we've built in each other. I love my horse and I could say it a thousand times over. I LOVE MY HORSE. He has put up with so much in my learning, he has been through so much this year with his injury and his White Line disease. Four months ago we didn't know if he would be with us to go to this show at all. My ability to handle him, to work with him and not be scared astounds me to this day. Two years ago I had trouble going into a stall with him lest he jump and scare me. Look at us now!

But I'm not going to lie: I'm a little bit sad that we didn't even place.

We put on quite a spectacle while loading him into the trailer to get home. Fifty minutes of standing in the blazing sun with a carrot held up to his nose and eventually we tossed the carrot across the field. I may have uttered several obscenities and at one point a nice crowd gathered to watch the festivities as I begged my horse to step onto the trailer.

And then, for some reason, he decided that the trailer would, in fact, be an ok place to exist and we all made our weary way home.

I've had a day to reflect now and I have to say that I feel confident in the decisions I made at the show. I'm ok with the fact that I chose to have a pleasant ride and not fight for his nose in the show ring. I'm ecstatic that the judges thought my riding was the best in the first class; I was terrified to go in to that and I came out on top.

So that was our show season. Highs, lows, ups, down, and even a buck!

We may not have a plethora of ribbons to put on display but later on that night I rubbed my beautiful boy down with lotion and applied treatment to his feet and his still-injured ankle, and I wished him sweet dreams before I kissed his velvet-y soft nose and headed to bed for the night.

And despite the fact that I was very, very sad on the long drive home, I can say now that I am happy with our performance and that I love my boy more than ever.

I Just Don't Know What I Want...

And I also just don't know how much of my blog titles I should put in capitals. This is something that weighs on my mind every time I write. Sigh.

There is so much that I want to do with my time and my life and I just can't make up my mind. I want to live elsewhere, and then I want to stay at home. I want to embark on a higher level degree than the one I have, and then I never want to look at another text book again. I want to find a new job, but I tend to think I should stay where I am. I want to ride competitively and then I want to just wander aimlessly in my yard.

My financial woes are starting to really keep me down. Zydeco's vet bills this year have been far higher than they have ever been, thanks to a miracle cure for his arthritis I decided to try. I couldn't afford the third treatment and so my mother so graciously offered to pay it as a gift to me and my horse. I'm behind on paying back my riding ring debt as well as a shoe-ing that Zydeco had, and I hate being behind in owing people money.

I haven't paid nearly as much of my JEEP off as I'd like to have paid. I've made much more than the minimum payments on it and for that I'm very proud; however, because I also decided to try and save paying interest on my student loans I'm paying a large chunk of each paycheck to either the vehicle or the student loan. As a result of this, the actual amount of money I have each month is very low.

I have the goal of having three courses completed by December 31st; however, I have no idea where the money will come from for this. I can put it on a line of credit or a credit card but the idea of going further into debt makes my heart stop. Momentarily, at least.

So this is where my life is at. I'm wondering all the time if each choice I make related to finances, school, work and my horse is the right choice and how whatever choice I make is giong to affect future choices.

And then I start to feel overwhelmed and I'll go outside and stand beside my horse or take a drive in my JEEP with the music playing far too loud, and I think that perhaps maybe everything will find a way to work out in the end.