If Only They Could See Me Now....

I had one of those days today that just had to make me laugh. I had no choice. one of those moments that make you look at yourself from the outside in, and think, please, somebody, hide me...

As I was standing in the grocery store with a drugstore bag full of sedatives, arms loaded with three boxes of frozen pizza, and not enough money to pay for any of it, I was thinking....

Please, Lord, don't let people think I am really this person!

And I'm not. I'm a well-adjusted, happy, self-fulfilled individual. I am currently living in a place I want to live in, with a Beagle who brings me joy every day. I am in a committed, loving relationship with an individual who makes my heart smile on a daily basis. And I have my own television.

I just happen to also suffer from the occasional panic attack or bout of insomnia, and these issues, from time to time, require pharmaceutical intervention.

I also have a penchant for frozen pizza, and as a result of this, when it goes on sale, I buy armloads and armloads of it.

As a result of all this, times do pop up in life when I need to stock up on both pharmaceuticals and frozen pizza ....

And I'm entirely comfortable with that.

I was just really, really happy that as I was standing there with my drugs and my pizza that the girls who made fun of me in high school didn't happen to waltz into the store at that very moment.

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.

Ready, Set, And.... Go...

We are having dinner for sixteen people this evening, including Big Brother, his wife, their daughter, and their delightful twin babies! So much excitement in the air...

House is clean, hamburgers are made, hot dogs are waiting to be tossed on the grill. My new boyfriend (Bah! Isn't it hilarious for me to put that in writing? Not 'the guy I'm spending time with' or 'this individual I'm seeing but I'm not sure if it is anything' or any of the other terms I've used over the years on this blog, but 'my boyfriend') is going to be doing the grilling because my dad got called away to work and I don't know how to turn on the barbecue. Sometimes I am simply just a pretty face.

Dixie has had her semi-annual bath and is tied out on the porch right now looking mightily unimpressed. Dixie hates baths, she hates babies, she hates company, and she hates being tied up. I had to tie her, however, because elsewise she would have spent the day rolling in mud and dead things and this is no way for a proper CowTown Beagle to greet company.

Lucy, the five month old puppy has been given a place to be tied on the lawn where she will not knock babies unconscious with her exuberance. Tia and Trooper are munching happily in the pasture and I am contemplating: Wash, blow dry, and straighten my hair, applly makeup and put on clean clothes? Or greet fifteen people with a messy ponytail, an oversized T-shirt that is advertising the virtues of the dressage rider, and a pair of dirty blue jeans.

Right.

Off to shower.

Once Upon A Time...

I used to carry my camera with me everywhere I went. I really did. I took pictures of all kinds of things, including but not limited to: My beagle doing any number of random things, my horse doing any number of random things, the random things I do here on this farm and a whole bunch of other randomness.

This weekend I did not get pictures of all kinds of things, including but not limited to: Me shooting a .22 for the first time, me making a new garden, my tree named Hope, the planting of the new garden, a riding lesson, and my beagle rolling in something that is dead on my driveway. I missed shots of two fires, a fourwheeling expedition in the gravel pits, my car breaking down on the highway, Trooper the foal leaping in his new stall, the making of Trooper's new stall, several random walks in the country...

Shall I stop there?

I miss taking photos of things and here I will vow to get pictures of all the above-named things.

After all, tonight my mother did threaten to take over my blog and post pictures of my new garden herself if I don't soon get on it.

Ooops, I Forgot To Tell You

So, I've always wanted to get a tattoo. I've never really known of what, and I've thrown around ideas in my mind since I was about sixteen.

Originally, I was going to get something horse-related but that flew out the window when all my ideas were ridiculed by the entire world.

For a while I wanted to get a Danish flag and then I was thinking of a Danish flag and a Canadian flag crossed over each other. But then my brother came home from Afghanistan WITH MY TATTOO. I'm not making this up, I had someone design the tattoo online and everything. I had never mentioned it to anyone IN CASE SOMEONE STOLE MY IDEA, and then he went all telepathic on me and got my tattoo.

Brothers. Hrmph.

Then I met Zydeco and again I was back on the idea of getting something horse-related. One day my tattoo came to me when I tossed Zydeco's bridle on the table after a ride. The bit (This is the part of his headgear he wears while riding that goes in his mouth, for those of you not in the know) landed on the table in a perfect Z shape.

And you know, I kinda wanted to get a tattoo for Zydeco, seeing as how he was my one true love and all, but I didn't want to go so far as to have a specific horse on me forever.

I figured this was a perfect compromise.

The guy who did my tattoo was a little baffled and it took him almost an hour to create the vision in my mind, with the assistance of some pictures from Google. Praise Google.

And then I laid down on the table and he started stabbing me violently with that ridiculous machine they use and I wanted to tell him to stop. Nope, thanks, I don't need any ink on me, my dignity and I will be out smoking on the sidewalk and I will be without a tattoo.

Then I looked down and realized there was a black circle on me that would forever remain a black circle. I could tell him to stop and then would spend the rest of my life with a black circle on me.

I did what any dignified soul would do and I screeched my way through the rest of the tattoo. I went outside afterwards and had a full-on panic attack, complete with dizziness, nausea, world spinning and inability to breathe for about ten minutes.

And then I called my mom and was all like, Mom! I got a tattoo!

She had some feelings regarding the tattoo that she shared with me, and now the left side of my hip looks like this:



And all was right with the world.

Oh, Lord...

My parents are leaving me.

They are leaving me with a puppy, a colt, a crazed and maniacal little beauty named Tia, my full time job, and my insanity.

Pray for me.

No, like, really.

What if the puppy pees all over the floor? What if she gets out of the kennel and leaves a giant pile of poop on my kitchen floor? What if she eat my cowboy boots?

I suppose I'll have to stock up on beer and hope that I have plenty of friendly neighbors around in case I run into trouble.

On Road Signs...

Road signs have perplexed me for years. I've hated them always.

This past winter, especially, I have detested road signs. I've wanted to get a job as Minister of Road Signs, whereby I would mandate that by law, all signs had to be four feet high and heated so that snow would not hinder people's vision of them.

I've bitched to all my friends about road signs, and occasionally screamed at the assholes who make them from my car as I drive by the road I was supposed to turn on because the fucking sign was illegible. This has also contributed to my driving anxiety as I never know what lane I should be in, and once I'm close enough to read the sign, I often find myself in the wrong lane. Then I have to get back in the right lane, which city drivers rarely let you do. (Also, I've been driving in the city every day since I got my new job. But that is a different rant.)

And then, on our journey across Canada, Mal got a little sick of my hatred for road signs and pointed out that hey! Maybe the problem isn't with the signs.

So, I went to the optometrist this past Saturday and OH MY GOD.

Did you know that the whole world isn't supposed to be blurry? I just thought that's how things were, just thought my vision was totally normal and that it was ok to have to squint and struggle to see things on the Tim Horton's menu.

I've now been outfitted with glasses that are of a very light prescription but that have altered my life in a huge way. I had my mother drive home from the appointment so that I could see all the world has to offer. The trees! They have BRANCHES that are distinguishable from one another! The branches aren't just a jumbly-bumbly mess of brown, they are individual BRANCHES.

Oh, and the road signs. So clear. So visible. So easy to read.

I almost want to apologize for all the years I spent swearing at the people who made them so damn small.

Vision is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I now think everyone should go to the optometrist. I'll even take you there! Being able to actually see is such an amazing thing that I am now officially recommending it to all my friends.

And blog readers.

Something's Gotta Give...

No, really.

Like, something, somewhere needs to GIVE.

Preferably, that something, somewhere, needs to GIVE me a new job and a new lease on life. But at this point I'll just take whatever I can get.

I bought myself new shampoo the other day, with a matching conditioner from the expensive shampoo section at Shopper's. I felt all classy-like, with my fancy bottles that have funky lids and interesting ingredients that I can't pronounce.

And I thought, you know, I deserve this, I deserve to have pretty-smelling hair because so very little in my life right now is reminding me of anything pretty.

So I've washed my hair with my new shampoo and conditioned it with the new conditioner and oddly enough?

It didn't really make me feel any better.

If nothing else, my hair smells good.

I suppose this is one of those days where life is all about the small things.

What's That? Its A New Year?

Right, that whole bit.

I rang in the new year in style, as per usual: I was sitting at home doing nothing but playing farmville with my sister in law and received an invite to go snowplowing with an individual, so I went.

And a plow-y good time was had by all.

I have some ideas swirling in my mind for the new year: Not so much resolutions, but things I want to do. First and foremost is my job situation, which needs to be remedied in some fashion. I just wish I knew what that fashion was. I'm perusing things, wondering what I want to do, wondering what would be right for me.

I have a new car now, and every time I see a Jeep on the road, I no longer contemplate stopping its owner and asking if their Jeep would like to be my Jee's boyfriend. I just look at it wistfully and carry on with what I was doing. I actually kind of like it, I think it is an OK thing to be seen in, and I don't hate it, so I suppose that I made the right decision for me.

I'd really like to take up things like crocheting and reading good books again, but paperwork from work and school take up too much of my time for outside hobbies. The unfortunate thing here is that I often feel overwhelmed by my need to do both and then rather than doing them, I sit around fretting about the fact that I'm not doing them.

We are still waiting for Tia's baby to be born. That stubborn little character seems quite content where he or she is, and to hom or her I say, good planning because it's frickin' cold out here in the real world. Also, your mother might bite you.

There aren't many updates to post about life and for that I'm a little bit sad. I wish I could say that there were wild and wonderful things going on but the fact remains that things are just going as they always are.

I Will Not Flip Out On Christmas...

I feel like I need to write that out two hundred times and then I will be calm.

Apparently insurance companies are difficult to wrangle with. I have now purchased a new car. It is sitting with my license plates on it at the dealership AS WE SPEAK.

Why not go get your new car, you ask?

Because in order to pay for the car, I must first pay off the Jeep, and in order to do that, I need a check from my insurance company.

The check was supposed to come in on Monday.

Then Tuesday.

Then Wednesday.

Oh, look, it's Thursday!

So, I called my insurance just to ask about my check. And I was totally fine with it not coming in.

Until they told me that from that day forward, not only would they not be allowing me to buy another vehicle, they would no longer be paying for my rental.

Ahem.

I was under the impression that the reason these people have been taking money from my account each month was to pay for contingencies such as traumatic accidents that leave you without wheels.

And now I would have to pay for a rental because they can't get their act together and give me my damn check?

There was some yelling.

And some swearing.

And perhaps some phone-throwing.

I called my insurance broker, that lovely gent that he is, and complained loudly to him. He called me back and said that there was nothing he could do, I would have to give up the rental or pay for it.

I HAVE TO HAVE NO CAR ON CHRISTMAS?!?

So this morning I woke up at work and made a Christmas resolution that I would do no yelling, swearing, or phone-throwing on Christmas. And then I carried on with my morning rituals and drove home in the rental I had accepted that I would be paying for.

And then a Christmas Miracle happened, and the insurance company called, and all of life got better because they are agreeing to pay for my rental for seven more days.

Hallelujah, it's Christmas!

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.

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.

On Slowing It Down...

As I wrote last, I am in the process of starting to look for new work. I say 'in the process' because I am really trying hard to make my resume the best it can be. I've gone to an employment agency to help make it look a bit nicer, and I'm currently working with the manager at my work to vamp up the things that I've done in that job.

The only thing on my mind here is to get more. I want to pay off the JEEP, soup it up, raise it up, and buy giant tires. I want to buy a truck, a really, really sexy truck. I want to start looking at places to live long-term, work with a financial advisor to see how long that might take.

I want to do more school, I want to take more courses, I want to have better qualifications. I want, I want, I want.

I feel like I'm running and running and running and I'm starting to wonder... What the hell for?

Of course I'm so glad that I have goals beyond putting on pants in the morning. I think that it is important to be driven to do more.

But I need to relax! I need to slow down and enjoy the journey a little more. I need to chill, look at the sunset, and admire the things going on around me.

While I have so many goals and so much to do, I also don't want to miss the life I'm currently living.

And I drove home tonight with some country music playing on the radio and Montgomery Gentry was serenading me from all six speakers in my JEEP, saying "So now I'm slowin' it down and I'm lookin' around and I'm lovin' this town and I'm doin' alright"

Yep. Slowin' it down. Lovin' this town.

Doin' alright.

I like it.

June 16th?!

No, really. JUNE 16th?!?

That was the last time I wrote?

And my goal was to be in a horse show by July the 18th?

I have got to get up off my butt. Seriously.

Since I've last written, I've had a wicked-awesome birthday party and a two day hangover that was the result of said party. I participated in berry season, my horse and I got into a huge fight over the gate of my ring, and four wheeled my Jeep through a dirt bike path.

My tree named Hope has yet to be photographed, but I did manage to successfully grow grass around her. Dixie has lost her mind again and has started acting like she is about eight months old, and Zydeco no longer has shoes on all four feet (My pocket book is pretty happy about that decision, let me tell you.)

I have started the process of actively seeking new employment yet again. It seems that in my life the grass is always greener, and I would really like to work in that place where the grass is shiny, tall and free of weeds.

I have started trying my hand at being social by going out and talking to other human beings rather than staying in and petting my horse when the time is right. I may not be the best at appropriate social interaction but I think it is time I tried. I do fear the day that I wake up alone at age forty five with no one to send random text messages to.

And my next goal?

Write on my blog more than once a month.

Updates? I Promised Updates?

I was reading through this and realize that some period of time ago I promised pictures of gardening, home improvements, a tree I decided to name Hope, and a variety of other things.

My horse's attempt at suicide once more prevented me from doing so.

Zydeco's stitches have held through! We are now on day nine, and he is still standing and still with us. I am so proud of myself for the job at bandaging I have done. The art of bandaging is a fine one, and while the vet said that all of the stitches would surely blow, only two of them have opened up and the wound beneath them is minor. Yay for me! Before this time in my life I was never much of an equestrian expert. I still am not one, but the job I did at not cording him, not causing bandage bumps, not bowing his tendons, and not chafing his skin excites me to no end. I don't care who you are, for a first time bandage-r, I did a fantastic job. (My horse is still standing. I am damn well going to toot my own horn.)

My tree named Hope prospers. Have I photographed her? No, I have not. I don't know when she will begin to bear fruit, but I have all kinds of hopeful plans for what I will do with the fruit once it begins to come. (Pear jam? Pear Wine? Pear pie?)

The Ranch continues to need improvements every day, if for no other reason than the fact that nature takes its course. Branches die, trees fall over, weeds reign. I need to take all of this out and make it pretty. The summer will be long this year, and I hope to have an awful lot of work done by the time fall joins us again.

I started at university again in hopes of aquiring an honour's degree. This is sure to be a long and windy road, but in order to make the money that I want to make (there are a lot of horses to support in my future), I need to have a Master's, and before that? The Honour's is mandatory. My new school is heavenly in that the people who speak rudely to me only do so in my native language. The first day was deflating beyond belief as there is a large amount of bureaucratic red tape for me to get through in order for me to get in the program I want, but I am taking that by the horns as well.

I also got a new hairstyle which is pretty exciting to me. I've gotten my hair permed (Pictures to follow at some point, I swear, even though I have made this promise before) and I kind of love it. Well, I love how it feels to not have miles of straight hair hanging out of my head. I'm not sure how I feel about the look yet, but it feels so much lighter and nicer that I don't think I even care how it looks.

The vet is coming early this morning to take out the stitches and tell me how Zydo is doing. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees my horse not only standing, but with all but two of his stitches intact.

Adventures in Buying a JEEP...

I must say that now that I officially own it, I really feel that every time the word Jeep is put in print, it should be written as JEEP instead of just plain old Jeep. But all the caps would be annoying, so I'll try to refrain.



Purchasing the Jeep was thrilling yet daunting. I was sure all day that at some point, some annoying piece of bureaucratic red tape would pop up and declare me unable to buy the Jeep. The man I bought it from was wonderfully helpful and stood by me every step of the way. Too kind. We shook hands, I thanked him for all of his help and generosity, and I headed out on the open road to pick up the Precious Boy for his first ride in my new Jeep.



The ride home was something else. I hate to admit this mistake that I made to the entire Internet, but I must.

Something was wrong on the road. Merle Haggard was Sing(ing) Me Back Home when I first noticed an odd odor. I continued on my way, but could not escape the unmistakeable smell of burning rubber. I put the window down and vowed to be more gentle with the clutch, but as I continued, the smell only got stronger.

The drive home was a perfect hour long, and about half way there something was terribly amiss. I couldn't get enough speed, the burning rubber was permeating the vehicle, and I was beginning to panic. I made it to the highway that leads to CowTown, stopped for some gas and a breather, and convinced myself that I am terrible at driving manual and that the smell must be me burning up the clutch. I was super careful with the clutch the rest of the way. I was supposed to stop and pick up the Precious Boy but didn't feel comfortable to put him in a vehicle that smelled of burning rubber and that wouldn't accellerate, so I brought it to my neighbor's house.

He was outside and waved when I drove up. I was close to tears at this point and I brought it to a stop and told him that something was terribly wrong when I saw the billows of smoke coming out of the wheel-well. A friend was there and yelled that we might need a fire extinguisher and I burst into tears.

I had just purchased a flaming vehicle that wouldn't accellerate and I had spent MANY MANY dollars on. The world may as well have swallowed me whole. My neighbor very kindly offered his car so I could pick up the Precious Boy. I called my mother and wept. I managed not to cry when I greeted the Boy.

Upon return, the smoke and heat had gone from the wheel-well and my neighbor said that he should take it for a spin and see if we could make it smoke again to pinpoint exactly where the heat was coming from. So we did that and made it carefully down the road. We stopped after about three minutes and the wheel was very, very hot.

At this point I asked him if he had put the emergency brake on before driving. He had not.

And I, the moron that I am, had driven for over an hour in a brand new (to me) vehicle WITH THE EMERGENCY BRAKE ON. I would name all the surfaces that I would love to smash my head against right now, but the list would be too long and I fear that all of the Internet does not have enough bandwidth for me to create such a list.

We turned the brake off, drove a little more, detected no more heat, and decided to look for some MUD. (It is a Jeep, after all. A Jeep without mud is like a horse without hooves. It just doesn't work.)



My neighbor drove as I was exhausted from the day's events and I am entirely inexperienced in four by fouring. So he carefully took us through some trails at his house. The mud there is quite minimal, but exciting enough to make me want to learn how to drive there myself. We got the tires quite dirty, scratched one of the plastic fenders, tried out some hills, got water on the windshield, and squealed with delight the entire time. The 4X4 works great and I have to say that I love it.



After that we did some grocery shopping and there is no room whatsoever in the Jeep for anything more than about four grocery bags. Fortunately I am a single person and I hope that the Jeep's little capacity for food will prevent me from buying all of the food in the world and eating it in one sitting. I see this as a positive.



In all I must say that it was a very exhausting day, but certainly taught me a lesson I will never forget: Don't depend on little lights and bells to tell you when you're doing something stupid. The first thing I should have checked is the E-Brake and I think I might just put a little post-it on the dash that says "Turn off the damn brake, you IDIOT" until I am conditioned to turn it off.

I'm exhilirated with my purchase and I can't wait to spend more time ripping up trails and basking in the glory that is a six speaker sound system.

A Fly By Night Post...

A lot has been going on here in CowTown, mostly in the form of not showering and finding a way for us to resume our regularly planned showering activities.

I'm not sure exactly what it was that led to the death of our thirty + year old shower; however, it met its end and was escorted out of our home in a somewhat less than dignified fashion.

The trials and tribulations we've faced in trying to obtain a new shower that will fit into our 160 + year old farmhouse have been of great magnitude. It exhausts me to even think of the professionals we've called, the decisions we've been forced against our will to make, the bloodshed and the tears that we have all endured.

We have made numerous trips to the Big City in my dad's (not so) Trusty Pickup. We've gone to fancy shower stores and regular shower stores; we've dealt with helpful shower salesmen and not-so helpful salesmen.

Our first shower experience was not a good one, and as we tried our mightiest to bring a shower home and wedge it up the stairs of our old house, we gauged out the panelling on the walls and gave up in a fit of rage and unshowered misery.

To experience a fit of rage and misery is one thing. To experience a fit of rage and UNSHOWERED misery? Let me tell you, that is misery on a whole new level.

We've successfuly brought home a shower today, successfully taken it apart and brought it to the second story of our beloved house. Tomorrow is the big test, the test to see if we can actually get this mass of fibreglass and piping to turn into somethig suitable for modern day body-washing.

May the Gods of hygiene smile down upon us from their freshly showered heavens and grant us the ability to resume normally functioning hygenic practices once more.

On Financial Independence...

I've worked at my new job for over a month now. So far things are going really well and I generally like it. There are days when I love it, and days where I've been bitten to the point that I go to night clubs with monstrous hematomas on my arms. I, personally, feel that "Want to feel my hematoma?" is a perfect pick-up line.

I've also been experiencing the joys of having money in my bank account. So far I've been spending far too much money on the following:
- Going out
- Treating my friends to dinner/drinks/whatever I have on hand
- Enormous tips for those serving me dinner/drinks
- New jeans
- A Nintendo DS
- Games for my Nintendo DS
- Name brand blankets for my horse
- A variety of other money-wasters that I shouldn't be spending money on

I have made some steps in the right direction, however. I've opened up a savings account, paid my Visa bill in full, paid my parents several hundred dollars that I owe them, and paid all but a very small portion of my student line of credit to the bank. The line of credit kills me, because that is the one I made my frivolous purchases on. For example, all the beer and tequila I used to drink while away at University. Although, in some cases, beer and tequila are necessities, so I only feel a little bit guilty for those.

When I went to the bank to deposit my pay cheque this week, the woman at the counter accosted me and asked me if I was still a student. So, I did what I could to make up a big, fat lie, because I've been expecting the bank people to accost me at any time now, seeing as how I'm not a student any more. A more honest and upstanding person would have gone to the bank and told them they were through with their studies. Not I.

I grinned broadly at her and explained that I am now officially a Student of Life. And she smiled back at me, and I thought, Oh, thank goodness, my ploy worked. I will still be able to pay minimal banking fees because this woman thinks I'm just hilarious.

But no.

I have now officially lost my student bank account forever, and I have to pay TEN DOLLARS every month for the joy of banking.

I do feel much more grown up, though. I'm looking at cars that I may want to purchase in the future (The Dodge Calibre and the Monte Carlo are currently in my mind quite often) and I am in a state of bliss because I've opened an account for my retirement. I am also NOT hitting up my parents for twnety bucks every time I turn around, and as a result, I feel much more like a twenty four year olf and much less like a sixteen year old.

Life is grand, indeed.

On My New Job...

When I started my last job sometime last July or August, there was a position there that I wanted. Last December, I made it my goal to get that position, and as of September, I got it. One day after receiving official notice of my promotion and raise, I handed in my two week's notice.

Employee of the year?

Hardly.

Explaining my reasons for giving up my new position would take days. I could write a novel on the reasons I had to leave, and another on the reasons it felt like it was killing me to do so. The only way I can do it is to relate it back to the training of horses.

There is such a thing as overfacing young horses. Too much, too soon, too fast is the logic behind it. You need to train and work, but you also need to just chill. In a single year, I went from a person who had never worked with troubled children to a person who was supposed to manage the programming in working with said youth. Other parts of the job included managing certain aspects of the staffing. There were some other responsibilities as well.

I am twenty four years old. I am young, I am friendly, and I aim to be amicable in all interactions I have with people when I am interacting with them. As such, telling people what to do and when is not exactly my strong point. And as the promotion I was to get loomed in my mind, I knew I couldn't do it. I had several opportunities to prove myself and test the waters; I tested those waters and generally came out on top. However, as a long term position, there is no way I could continue there.

So I moved on.

I've been going to work for the last couple of weeks with a sense of freedom in my mind. I no longer have to tell people what to do. I am no longer the person that other people turn to in times of high stress. I am no longer the one who has to make decisions, and I LOVE going to work and being told what to do.

Life is generally looking up right now. At my new job, I also make a considerably higher wage, and as such, I'm looking forward to the freedoms I will have as a person with more than zero dollars in her bank account. The dollar signs are jingling before my eyes: A new saddle? A new pair of riding breeches? A new car come the spring, or perhaps another horse to add to the herd? Jeans that fit me appropriately? A few more university classes so that I can work towards my master's degree?

Sometimes I feel like this life will never work out the way I want it to work out; other times, I feel on top of the world knowing that little, itsy bitsy baby steps are all the ones I need to take so that I can work towards something more in my life.