The Glittering Night

The chain clangs like a wind chime against the gates as I push them open, from where I stand I can hear the song on the radio in my car ending as the clock reads 11:57pm. I know they'll do the weather update at midnight. For now, it's clear and cool and dark. The gravel crunches under my feet as I head back to the car and look over the field as the glitter of the fireflies fills the sky. This is how I prefer the night, cool and quiet and dark, save for the glittering beauties.

I realize now that my chosen profession is odd. My college education and post-graduate studies seem wildly irrelevant most days, but none the less did satisfy my desire for a degree and some of my insatiable curiosity. The horses however, never get boring. No day is the same as the one before and there is never an end to learning here. While many families have a horse crazy kid that rides for a few years, maybe even gets a horse, and then slowly recedes from the horse life into something else, I just always fell deeper. Drowning myself in books about horses, horse care, horse breeds, horse supplies. Even after a hiatus from riding regularly in high school, I would hide in my room, away from the pressure of trying to fit in and doing all the things high school girls are meant to do, and re-read my books. I would sit on the floor in my walk in closet, safely behind two closed doors, and gingerly pick through the memory box of momentos from my first horse. I could still smell him. That scent, comforting and velvety, was my ocean, and it still is. 

As I make my way up the drive to the barn, I can see the silhouettes of the horses in the darkness. Together in their little bundles, two standing with a hip dropped, leg cocked and resting, while watching over the one laying on the ground with her long neck curled and her chin in the dirt. They are intermittently lit with the glittering fireflies, so very bright against the dark skies in the country. The glittering night of city lights does not hold my interest, it's overwhelming and lonely all at once. Here, this is how I wind down. My work is done and my soul is soothed all at once.

I park my car as close as possible to the barn doors and grab my bags. Quietly sliding the big doors apart, I am greeted by a few low nickers and the tramping of hay and straw as they rouse to see who's here tonight. "Hey mamas", I say quietly as I make my way down the aisle towards the low light in the wash stalls to put down my bags. The mare end of the barn is mostly filled with the sound of rhythmic chewing. Those ladies like their hay,  and as I glance into their stalls to make sure everyone is supplied for the night, a few of them approach to snuff me with their soft breath and get a neck scratch. The little one is flat out with his mouth open and his little short foal breaths huffing in his dream. His dam comes to say hello, carefully placing her feet in the straw around him so that she doesn't step on him, and I think, she doesn't want him to wake up just yet. She knows it won't be long until he's rooting at her udder, sometimes fiercely and loudly nursing, with no regard to being as careful with her body as she is with his. "You're a good mama", I whisper to her, and she rests her muzzle heavily on my arm and breaths into my face. Our affections and respect are mutual.

Down the aisle I hear a clang of teeth on a stall door and I know he knows I'm coming with more hay. He, as usual, would like me to get on with it and arrive spit spot. I open his feed door and there they are, those wet teeth; his lips peeled back in anticipation as he catches the flake of hay in the air on its way to the floor. He sticks his nose out of the door, presenting me with a mouthful of hay. My fingers graze over his nostrils and scratch a soft circle. He's really quite pleased with the attention, as I don't much trust putting my fingers near his mouth unless it's already full. The stallion end of the barn is quieter, two are down for the night, and only those shiny teeth, still holding a chunk of hay out of the small feed door, are visible in the aisle. 

What is becoming my ritual begins. I stack the hay bales four across and two high and take an open bale to stack the flakes higher at one end. Over the top goes a soft clean medium weight horse blanket, my flashlight gets hooked onto the blanket rack, and the chair next to my hay stack holds my purse, sweatshirt, extra blankets, and snacks. I settle onto the hay pile lounge, IPad, coconut water and clipboard in hand. Kicking my moccasins off I cover my legs with another blanket as the air cools quickly through the night. One of the pregnant mares groans as she goes down for a bit, her belly creating the mountainous landscape I can see through the stall door. They all sleep for short stretches, waking up to eat and drink or switch sides and settle back into the straw. I love to hear them sleep. Their stalls are too dark for me to see anything but their outlines, their sighs and snorts and wiggles indicate their state of rest. The mare on the end is a dreamer, small curdled whinnies and kicks erupt from her stall and I wonder what fills her dreams. 

The mare I'm here to watch for signs of labor is calm and quiet. Her milk test tells us she should foal any hour, and has been that way for four days. But these horses, they don't ascribe to our human habits of relentless planning and vigorous impatience. The mare decides when it's right- so I wait. Night after night I stay with them, traveling to the ends of the Internet and existing on coconut water and beef jerky and fresh peaches, with an occasional hunk of dark chocolate when I'm feeling sleepy. 

It will be dark and quiet until 4:30, when the swallows come in from hunting bugs and bring the spoils to their nests. Their chatter signals the end of my glittery night and the impending separation of the mountains from the sky as the black goes to navy and then to royal blue. The pink sun will peek above the horizon at 5:30 sharp, and the volume of the world will increase by the minute. The
stallions welcome their day with crescendo nickers and whinnies, and if they had mirrors, they would look approvingly into them and congratulate themselves on a night well spent. The mares, they wait for the barn doors to part again as the morning crew arrives to make their breakfasts. I will drive back out over the crunching gravel to sleep for a bit of the day and wait to hear if the mare has decided that daylight is her preferred hour of foaling. If not, I'll be here again- me and the horses and the glittering sky.

First and Lasts

There are so many more, but these are the best ones.

The first of my four-legged children, you were my very own dog. Acquired accidentally on my lunch break on a hot June day in 2004, I should have NEVER walked out of the pizza place next door and into the pet store holding an adoption event from a local shelter. There you were, the “Georgia Black Dog”, cowering under the table, away from all the dogs vying for attention of prospective adopters. I sat on the floor and stroked your shoulder and heard a voice behind me say, “she doesn’t let anyone touch her, did you just touch her? She’s just here to get socialized and isn’t really up for adoption, she has been badly abused and is in no shape to be adopted yet”, and there it was-
The Last of my willpower, the last of my ability to reason that as a poor college student that lived in a rented townhouse that didn’t allow dogs, that I shouldn’t bring the scared, abused, skinny brownish dog with welts on her hind end home. The last time that pet store probably ever had someone buy and assemble a crate in store, food and bowls and a bed, and then pay an employee $100 in cash to take care of her in the stockroom all day until I could retrieve her after work. You were mine, and I was yours, as soon as I touched you that day.

The first time I ever had a dog that came with tons and tons of “baggage”. You were afraid of me, of food bowls that were shiny, of ceiling fans, and flashlights, and lightning, and beeping noises, and men with beards, and the opening of trash bags, and outside, and inside, and door frames, and going upstairs-
The Last time I ever considered giving you up and taking you back to the shelter, convinced that you would never bond to me, was two weeks later, in the wooded trails, when the strange lady with the ancient German Shepherd stopped me and told me- out of the blue- that I needed to let you love me your way, that I was trying too hard, and that I just needed to be patient and quiet and tell you simply, every day, “I love you Doodle”, and that you would understand, that you were a special gift. No one has ever been more right.

The first time I ever had a dog that wouldn’t come when she was called, but would just look at me, come near and stay near, but not let me catch her until she was darn ready to be caught-
The Last time I ever took a dog to a public dog park before an impending thunderstorm, and was the last one to leave since you decided not to be caught and we sat in the pouring down rain, lightning and thunder crashing around us, six feet away from each other, until you decided to come over and sit.

The first time you saved my life was on the trip home from Athens to Columbus. You were such a good car rider, it was always your favorite. You sat still and quietly in the back with your nose out of the cracked window gleefully taking in all the smells. I only knew you were awake by the short, short,  looonng, rhythm of your sniffing. But not that day, you were restless and softly whining. I was confused about what you wanted since you had already eaten dinner and gone potty before we got in the car and we’d been on the road less than an hour. We were behind a big red pick-up truck the whole way down the two lane road and your whining grew louder. I saw a gas station and pulled over to offer you water and see if you needed to go potty again. You pulled me around on your leash for, in my hurry, what seemed like forever, without so much as a pre-potty sniff. I was growing impatient. You jerked the leash to go TOWARDS a lady that was walking towards us, and I was so surprised as she reached out to touch you. Not only that you went towards her, but even more so at the scars all over her forearms. Like she had been dragged through briars, her arms, and her face implied scars of a much deeper sort. She asked me all about you and I told her about your past. She seemed to connect with you on a level that I couldn’t understand then. I didn’t know why this lady was holding up my trip, and why you were content to be patted by her. We got back in the car and went a few miles, only to be stopped by traffic on the same two-lane. At the bottom of the hill I could see multiple fire trucks. I sighed. A bad wreck. Something else to make my trip longer-
The last thing I remember before I burst into tears and had to eventually pull over, was what I saw when we passed that wreck. A red pick-up truck and another car, smashed between two tractor trailers. The red-pick up truck was compressed front to back to the width of a double door frame. I was stuck for a moment as the firemen rushed to put a tarp up so that our lane couldn’t see the remains in the truck. But I saw them. And I recognized the pick-up truck, the one we had been behind before you made me stop for the weird petting with the stranger. We would have been right there in that horrible wreck. Every time I passed the cross on the side of the road for years after that, I said a prayer for peace for that man’s family, and thanked you and that lady for making us late to that scene.

The first time you chased down the tennis ball that I threw for you, you ran and ran and ran with it, around me in circles, with no real intention of bringing it back. I laughed as you got all the other dogs in the dog park running too, now sleek and black and shiny, your confidence made me smile and your happiness was evident-
The last time you chased a tennis ball, the poodle beat you to it. You weren’t fast anymore, and maybe not sleek, but black and shiny and happy you still were. She lost interest in the ball moments later and you retrieved it and took with you to your couch. You placed it between your front legs and every time she came near, you just bared your teeth silently. It was your ball anyway, and she needed to know it.

The second time you saved my life was at 2:17 am in the summer of 2005. I was fast asleep with you next to me on the floor. We were alone in the townhouse since our other roommate had gone home for the summer. Your big growl woke me up with a start. I didn’t have my glasses on or the lamp on yet to know what was happening and you were throwing your body at my bedroom door trying to get out- with the kind of bark I almost never heard you do. The deep snarly bark that meant you were dead serious. I opened the door to my room and you rocketed down the stairs. I was almost frozen with fear as I could now hear, and comprehend the banging at the back door that meant someone was trying to kick in the door. My cell phone was charging in my car outside, and we didn’t have a land line. It was just me and you. I could now hear you throwing yourself at the back door and barking like you were going to get through it first. I ran to the window and peeked down to see a dark figure on the porch run away into the woods. The banging had stopped, but the barking continued. I wouldn’t let you out because you would have chased him down and killed him I think. After a few minutes you stopped barking and I was brave enough to run to my car and get my phone. My neighbor was outside already asking if I was ok and she had already called the police. I had to lock you in my room when they arrived because you simply were not letting anyone in that house, even the policeman who bolted a 2x4 across the door for the night to secure it since the door frame was split. He said one more kick and the intruder would’ve been inside-
The last thing I wanted to hear a few days later was that the guy they caught after he kicked another woman’s door in, was that he admitted to watching me and a few other girls for days before that. He knew I was home alone, and he knew I had a dog, but he didn’t think that you would protect me. He was wrong. I’ve never ever felt unsafe again because you were always there.

The first time my bathroom door creaked opened while I was taking a shower, I timidly peeked out to see if I was about to become a story out of Law and Order SVU, but thankfully it was you. There was no door you couldn’t open and I became accustomed to your presence during any and all activities, as you were not one to be left out. You settled down onto the bath mat and waited for me to finish showering. You didn’t move as I reached over you to brush my teeth, because the bath mat in front of the sink was much better than your array of beds just outside the bathroom. It was sometimes hard to put on mascara while leaning over a large dog to see the mirror, and you always huffed and left the bathroom annoyed when I would dare to turn on the blow-dryer. I knew you just wanted to be with me, and I appreciated it. I never minded you being there, ever-
The last time I showered and you were there on the bath mat, was yesterday morning. I thought to myself for a moment about how it would feel to get out of the shower and not see you there because I knew you were declining. It happened today, a million days too soon, while we were waiting for the vet and you were resting a little more comfortably on your couch. I opened the shower door and the bath mat was empty. I sobbed into my towel and tried to hurry and get dressed to get back to you. Thank you for the hundreds of times you were there. I think I will probably look for you on the bath mat forever and ever.

The first time you woke me up with the thwap, thwap, thwap of your tail on the wall, it was because you needed to go outside and I had overslept a little. You soon trained me to get up at any and all hours of the day or night and attend to you with your metronome tail. The “weapon of mass destruction” as we sometimes called it, your tail was the reason I have a higher than normal coffee table and cheap wine glasses. You quickly taught me not to leave things in the path of that tail, the excited and expressive tail that greeted me every day and woke me up every morning, and had a way of shedding more hair than most dogs have on their entire body-
The last time I heard the thwap, thwap, thwap of your tail was Monday morning early. You were having a hard time breathing and wanted me to come to you. You called me with your tail. For eleven years that tail has been the soundtrack to my life. I don’t know how I’ll ever get up again without the encouragement of that sound.

The first time I felt grown-up and moved into my very own apartment after college, you were finally my only roommate. It was a third floor apartment and we walked up and down those steps together for what seems like thousands of times. You waited for me patiently at the window to come home each day, and you made me feel safe and secure and happy. Just the two of us in our big girl apartment, looking out the window at the world that we were ready to take on-
The last move you ever made with me was last May, we’ve lived in a townhouse, an apartment, and four houses together. Six times we’ve packed our life together, and I can’t even begin to know what to do without you in our home. I can’t even remember having a home where you weren’t there.

The first time you met him, you liked him immediately. Little did he know that I would’ve never gone on a second date with him if you didn’t make it clear that he was “good”. A better judge of character I’ve never known. When he laid on the couch with you, you didn’t growl at him, and you hated sharing your couch with anyone but me. I loved him almost immediately, and you let me know that I was safe in loving him because you did too-
The last time you saw him was this morning when he petted you and said your name as he left for work and told me to call him and let him know what the vet said. I don’t know if he knew that you were leaving us today for sure, but I know you loved him since your tail wagged as he patted you, and your tail hasn’t been wagging in two days. He’s digging you a resting place on his mom’s farm as I write this. He came home from work early and gently moved you from your couch into his car while I hid upstairs and cried and typed. He’s kind, and you always knew it.

The first time I knew I loved you was on the way home from the pet store that day when you awkwardly rode home facing backwards in the front seat of my car. I knew we had work to do, but your eyes were so kind even though your body looked neglected. I didn’t know when or if you would love me, but I knew I already loved you. You were panting a bit and I saw you had an under bite, it was always my favorite thing when your lip would get stuck against your teeth and I would barely see the under bite. And when you would guard some toy and bare your teeth at other dogs and instead of lifting your lips to the side, you would part them in front and reveal the under bite. Or when you would greet me at the door or at the steps and wag your whole body and “smile” and there it was, the under bite that I love. From that first day until today, my love for you has consumed more of me than I knew could exist. You have been there for almost every first as I grew from a naive teenager into an actual adult, and so many lasts-
 I can’t believe that today was our last day. You were beautiful and kind and warm and soft and loving and protective and loyal and independent and patient even to the very end, and you taught me more about life than most human relationships have. I don’t even know who I am without you. I owe you so much more than I could ever give you, and I can only hope that today, when I held you in my arms and felt you take your last breath, that you know that I will love you until my very last breath.

Rest in Peace my sweet Doodlebug and thank you. 

Run free with ample breath, and swim and roll and rest and play and love.

Spring 2002- May 19, 2015

The Horse Shaped Hole

During what seems like a lifetime ago, I was sitting in a stuffy room filled with other high schoolers clad in North Face fleeces in the mountains of what I think was somewhere in North Carolina. Outside, the air was sharp and chilly and fresh, and I remember wanting a breath of it. I was hot, but I didn't want to take off my fleece and draw attention to myself in that quiet room, or accidentally expose what I thought then, were totally hideous love handles that might pop out of my jeans. I laugh at that now, because I would pay for those love handles instead of these...

Anyway, the reason I was sitting in that room is because I was on a Young Life retreat, and although I don't remember the speaker's name, what he said has stuck with me for 15 years. He was talking to us about our hearts, not in the pumps blood to the rest of our body sense, but in the representative of our soul sense- which is how I am referring to it here. I have always been spiritual and identify as a Christian. I was reared in a Christian family and we attended church most Sundays. However, religion and Christianity were never forced on me and one of the things I appreciate most about my parents is that they allowed and encouraged me to question  my beliefs while growing up.

I've always held a closely guarded and personal set of beliefs that some Christians may out right disagree with. I do not believe that if you have never heard the word of God, or about God, that you go to hell. I just don't think the God I know would hold that against you. I also believe that God comes to people in very individual ways and that although I identify as a Christian and my friend may identify as Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist etc., that we are all probably receiving our spirituality and religion in the way that our culture, upbringing, and heart is most available to receive it. In other words, I think that the Native Americans, and the Hindus and me and everyone else, are all probably communicating with the same omniscient being. That's the part of my beliefs that some Christians would get really uncomfortable with, and that's their right. I get really uncomfortable with forcing other belief systems on those that don't want to experience them using threats of eternal hell and burning in lakes of fire, but that's just me. If you look at the basic premise of any religion, they are ultimately eerily similar. Religion and spirituality is extremely personal and comes to each person differently and not one minute before or after their heart is ready for it. Christianity is right for me, but I totally feel uncomfortable and out of place in Pentecostal Christian churches. I feel judged for my quiet faith and my preference to pray when alone in nature, and I feel like everyone there is having a contest to see who can be the most Christian in front of the most people, so instead of it being about faith, it's about appearing faithful, and I don't get it. If waving your hands in the air and shouting Hallelujah in a room full of others while singing praise songs is your thing and makes you feel full of the Spirit, then go for it. It's just not for me. I find that I don't very often feel comfortable in rooms full of people though, I'd rather worship while riding through a field on a horse as that is where I feel the most connected to God and all of His creation

So this takes us back to that stuffy room and what that man was saying. He described our hearts like a block of swiss cheese; full of holes. In order for our hearts to feel full/whole/fulfilled, we filled those holes with various things that were important to us and each hole had a shape. Unless you filled those individually shaped holes with the right shape, much like a puzzle, you were left there with a hole and an ill fitting piece and the yearning to find the right piece of the puzzle. He was talking specifically about the God shaped hole that nothing else could fill. This visual really stuck with me.

At 31 years old, I'm far more secure about what my heart needs to be filled with to be whole than I was at that time. My God shaped hole is filled, my love shaped hole is filled, my family and friends shaped holes are filled for now, and the things I do that make me feel like me, those holes are filled as well. The only glaring, gaping hole in my heart, is shaped like a horse. My heart and soul ache for it to be filled. People who don't love horses or understand their role in my life may find that statement to seem selfish, bratty, or shallow, since having a horse is technically a "material possession" and an expensive one at that. Trust me, I wish I had a bicycle or elliptical machine shaped hole instead; for oh so many reasons, but I just don't.

I do not remember a time when I wasn't obsessed with and fascinated by horses, ponies and generally anything with four legs. I don't understand people who don't love animals any more than I understand serial killers. Not to compare the two, but that is the level at which not loving animals seems foreign to me. I try REALLY hard not to judge people that say they don't like dogs or think horses are super scary. I don't mean to make assumptions about them based on that, but I do, because I feel like they can't possibly feel complete without knowing what I know about how a life filled with creatures can bring happiness, healing, comfort, joy, beauty, sadness, heartbreak, faith and all the emotions and lessons you need in life to become a decent human, and I don't understand how a life filled with other sports or possessions can possibly compare. But that's presumptuous of me, and I know that. I continue to work on it.

Luckily, my parents figured this out about me at an early age. We always had dogs, a couple of cats, some hamsters, a guinea pig, a potbellied pig named Bocephus, numerous fish, parakeets, and some involvement with horses. I took riding lessons starting at about age 8, worked in barns and would've lived there if they'd let me. When I was 13, I got my very own first horse. It was a glorious day and I'll never forget it. I'm sure it was much like the first time you get high on cocaine, and you want that feeling forever and ever and ever. It wasn't the "getting" part though, it was the "having and loving" part. My horse shaped hole was filled, and at a time when I hated school because everyone seemed mean, suspicious and generally intolerant of the new girl that was totally wearing the wrong brand of jeans and was therefore worthless, I could go to the barn and my horse would happily trot to me from the field, and tolerate my hours long grooming sessions, and let me sleep on his back while he grazed, and teach me that down banks in XC were in fact not scary at all, and that the more I gave of myself to take care of this fantastic creature, the more love and life lessons I got in return as we grew together. He was a young greenie when I got him, and so every success was our success and every failure was mine to learn from and fix. He taught me that there are almost never problems that can't be solved with hard work and good intentions. My horse just let me be me, with no judgement, and he taught me that letting other people and animals be themselves and feel comfortable in who they are and how they learn, is perhaps the greatest gift you can ever give another creature.

After my first horse was injured in a trailer accident, I went a very long time without a horse of my own or doing much riding at all. In my grief and sadness and ignorance that those emotions were what I was experiencing, I tried to fill the horse shaped hole with lots of teenager-y things that seemed to make everyone else happy. Cheerleading (which I was terrible at), getting attention from boys, making good grades, having parties at my house to try to make other people happy, excelling at art; all of those things did make me happy temporarily and art probably helped me the most, but when I look back at those years without involvement with horses, I think I was probably depressed for most of them.

In college I started riding again, and something was missing. I rode on the equestrian team for a year, I rode other people's horses, I took lessons, I volunteered for a Hippotherapy program for kids with special needs. It was all wonderful and taught me tremendous things about horse care and management and the power of a horse for a human spirit, but at the end of the day, those horses didn't belong to me, and they weren't mine to love, nurture, care for, and develop a partnership with on a daily basis- but I did those things anyway and it healed me a lot.

After college I got an OTTB, it was the first time I felt ready to really fill the horse shaped hole, and honestly I think that without her and all that she taught me, I would never have had the courage to get out of a bad marriage, chase my dreams and move from GA to VA and start a whole new chapter in my life. If there's one thing an independent mare will teach you, it's the value of picking your battles and that self preservation and selfishness are two very different things. I ultimately lost her due to a freak slab fracture in her knee, and although I still get teary when I see a photo of her, I know that we were in eachother's lives for very specific reasons and that she is probably much more at peace now, than she ever felt she could be here trying to live up to the expectations of humans.

I've spent the last few years fully immersed in Eventing as a rider and professional groom- from watching and riding Beginner Novice and young horses, up to being able to "read" a XC course at the 3* level and understand what it takes to care for and ride upper level eventers. I am insatiably curious, and it pays off to be so in a sport like horseback riding where you can never ever know everything. One thing I do know about myself now, is that I am a good steward of the animals in my care. I can confidently and comfortably manage a group of horses, but especially my own. I know what they need and what they want and I understand them and they seem to understand that about me. I'm the girl the loose horses at shows run to, and the girl the scared, lost, or wandering children in public places flock to. I don't know why and sometimes I laugh when I remember praying to God when I was little for him to please make me like Snow White so that all the animals would come to me, and I think He has a funny sense of humor in answering that prayer. People say to me often, "this ____ (horse, dog, child, etc.) seems so comfortable with you!" and sometimes I'm very thankful for that, and sometimes I would like them to remove their snot covered child from my lap and take it home so that I can eat my dinner in peace...

The hardest part for me now, is that the horse shaped hole isn't full. I have the perfect place to keep a horse, the time to care for and ride a horse, the supplies and tack and equipment to outfit us for any activity, and the knowledge and skills to provide the horse with a happy career and happy life suitable for what he or she may need. I even have the income to maintain the horse, but the horse shaped hole still isn't full. I have, luckily, had the chance to ride some amazing horses and lease a few really nice horses that have taught me a lot and for that, I'm extremely appreciative.  I'm just finally ready to have my own horse again. Partly because I really like to manage my own horses based on my beliefs in what they need, but also because, as I'm sure a mother knows that their child may love their nanny, but will never have the same bond as they do to their mother, I'm tired of being the nanny to the horses, I want the bond that you only have with your own horse. My gut keeps telling me no when I'm offered leases. It's time for me to find my "heart horse".

I've been casually looking at OTTB's again because I love Thoroughbreds and want somewhat of a young horse, but unfortunately my champagne taste in young prospects is often overruled by my beer budget. The two horses I have really liked, both sold in a matter of hours, as I'm not the only one with good taste in horses. I also do not have a truck and trailer of my own (pro grooming is great experience, but not for those that wish to maintain large bank accounts), so I'm at the mercy of timing and borrowing things when it's convenient for others- which makes it rather difficult to purchase anything quickly. I also find it really important to find someone who wants their horse happy and well cared for, but ultimately I have to also realize that the bottom line is often the money for a seller. I think that's what I find the most foreign of all when it comes to humans, money is always the driving force, even over love, and I HATE that about our culture and motivations. I have removed a variety of relationships from my life when I realize that money is more important to them than a relationship with another human being and it frightens me that this is the norm for so many people. I totally understand that it takes money to live, but I can assure you I will probably never have a surplus of money, because I will spend it on, or give it to those that need it more than me at that moment. That's what life is really about- getting everyone's holes in their hearts filled.

So for now, the search continues, my $1000 budget is not likely to change any time soon, but somewhere out there, I know there's a horse that needs me, and that I need, and eventually, I hope someone will see that even though my funds are meager, my capacity to care for and love a horse, is worth more than the money in their pocket.
  

Six Days...

There are six days until the wedding, and I just heard the most beautiful words I've ever heard out of my fiance's mouth. Better than "I love you", better than, "Will you marry me?", better than, "Do you want me to bring you some ice cream?". Yes. Better. I was just casually mentioning that Liz (his sister) told me that their family in England has access to extra WEG (World Equestrian Games) tickets in Normany, France and how cool it would be to go. Then he said the words "I've always wanted to go to Normandy! We should go watch cross country and stay at a winery before the weekend or go to my family's house in the Alps as our honeymoon! Is Boyd riding?" I mean, other than the fact that my fiance has a somewhat sizeable man crush on Boyd Martin and whether or not he is riding could dictate the plans for our honeymoon, these are perhaps the most fun series of phrases I've ever heard him utter. I reminded him that Kim (Severson) is riding and that Lis Storandt will be there too. (We know these people better than we know Boyd, and I think they are equally as pretty) He then said, "We should look for flights!" OMG. Could this be the honeymoon of my dreams? Wine. Romantic dates with my new Hubby. Horses. Friends. French. Boyd stalking. Bread.
Here's the hitch... I am a TERRIBLE flyer and these flights are LONG. Also we can't currently afford anything even close to those plane tickets. However, I found a four leaf clover today in the yard so maybe some luck will come our way. Maybe they can drug me for the entire flight if we go. Even if we don't go, I'm still pretty sure I'm marrying the sweetest man in the world just for considering letting me watch XC at WEG as part of our honeymoon. I love him. He loves Boyd.

Welcome to 2014

That's right, I'm welcoming myself to 2014. After three long years of using my data package on my phone in about 5 days, and driving into town to send e-mails, and not being to write or post to this site because it's painfully frustrating to do it from my phone- WE FINALLY HAVE THE INTERNET!!!

"What?" you say, "you didn't have the internet for THREE years?" Yes. That's correct. I don't even live in an off the grid prepper commune, I live just 20 minutes south of a major city in Virginia, but there were NO available internet providers, besides satellite, which doesn't work- ever. There are actually so few available internet providers that our local school kids have terrible standardized test scores because so few of them have access. The federal government did a little investigation because they couldn't understand why the test scores were so low when the district is well funded from a rather high income tax base. Turns out not having the internet makes you dumber. Oops. This is what I've been dealing with. So I'm out of my horse filled bubble (more on that later) and back into reality, and the ability to order things from amazon. Yay.

A lot has happened so far in 2014 that I can't wait to catch up writing about, notably:
1. I'm getting married on July 12
2. I left my job at Plain Dealing Farm
3. I don't have a horse to ride regularly, and I'm learning to not have a nervous breakdown every day when I think about it.
4. I've decided that we can't blame the weirdness of the majority of today's children on our electronic culture, as much as we have to blame the parents. WTF is wrong with my generation of parents? Again, more on this later.
5. Bad managerial skills are detrimental to your business and the ability to maintain good employees. WHY, would you keep a bad manager instead of a good group of employees? Funny anecdotes on this later too.
6.They've removed me from the list of EN writers on Eventingnation.com along with my pic and profile. It makes me sad. It's probably because I was unable to post anything for months on end due to former job constraints and the LACK OF INTERNET in my life. I still want to write about horses though, so I'll just have to find another way to get paid to do it! Or maybe they will one day answer my e-mail begging them to still let me write. Sometimes Most of the time, I read the things people write about horses/horsecare online and it scares me. It's the only thing I can honestly say "I know things" about, and I'm confident in my knowledge, and I feel the need to rid the world of terrible horse care advice. In case you are looking for some shining examples of bad horse care advice, see the OTTB Connect group on Facebook. It's like a horror show.
7. Fiance's with narcolepsy... Life can be a snore.
8. Ten reasons why my dogs are more needy than your toddler.
9. How to work really hard for little to no money because you suck at negotiating like an adult and are terrified of conflict...my personal specialty.
10. Twenty reasons why my mother should plan your wedding. Buzz feed style.

Can't wait to catch up soon!
-e

“Aren’t we all forced to live with the decisions we make?” The wise words of Lady Mary resonated in my head as I scrolled through my news feed and wondered if it was weird to think that even though your baby is super cute, I still think my horse is cuter. If you are wondering who Lady Mary is, please minimize this window and immediately amend your Netflix queue to include Downton Abbey- all of it. Anyway, it’s funny how a simple Facebook news feed can make you question the decisions you’ve made and the trajectory of your life, or repeatedly remind you that you are exactly where you are meant to be; as I believe wholeheartedly that I am.

I’m 30, there I said it. If you had asked me ten years ago where I would be when I was 30 I assure you I would have given you an entirely different scenario than the one in which I live. When I was twenty I was dangerously sure of myself and my sunny future as an art teacher with a cute house and 2.5 children and 4 dogs.  Now, I realize that had that “plan” come true, I would now be terribly unhappy and unfulfilled. Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of friends that took a more traditional domestic path and are blessed with precious children and tremendous happiness. I LOVE looking at their cute pictures and hearing their funny stories and I totally applaud them for being able to get two kids up, dressed, fed and in the car and to school by 8am and managing to look cute doing it! I can barely feed my dogs and find clothes to wear by 8am, much less worry about trying to even speak to anyone else most days. The point is, as the wisdom of being 30seems to spill upon me from every corner of the universe, I am becoming more and more at peace with my less than traditional life- in fact, I love it. Thank goodness for 2011, my worst and best year, where the choices I made, made over my life, and instead of feeling selfish about it, I finally just felt like me. Now I wake up and I know that I am loved, I know that I am thankful for the day and the chance to be present in it, and I know that there is “something more” for me. One day, if I do have 2.5 children and go back to teaching art, I will be ready for it and happy about it, but for now, my life spent with horses, and “horse people” and on the road to here and there is exactly what I need. Every day is a bit of an adventure, and every night I go to bed tired in a good way. I am in fact, entirely able to get up before 8am and get horses ready and in tip top shape for horse shows, because horse shows are still exciting, exhilarating, challenging and fulfilling for me. The majority of the horses I take care of are not mine, never will be, and I will never be the one to ride them into that competition arena, but when they succeed, when they learn and when they exhibit the great athleticism that they possess (hopefully in an obedient manner), it still thrills me to my core. That’s how I know I’m supposed to be in this world.

So many of my non-horsey friends and family ask me what it’s all about to live in the “horse world” now, as they call it. It’s not really something that can be explained in literal terms, and it’s not something that I dare say, the majority of people would care for, but for those of us that know, and understand, and want to be there, the horse world is everything. Over the past few years working at a big eventing farm and traveling, sometimes endlessly, to shows, I have learned a lot about our sport. Some things I’ve seen, heard, and witnessed have made me angry and sad and disillusioned for a while, but at the core, our sport is still about the love and respect for the animal- the horse. Eventers are a bit of a subculture. Many of us are a little rough around the edges after years spent in too much sun, working too hard for too many hours; but so many of us do all that because we want to, not because we have to. It surely isn’t done for the glamorous prizes, the sheer celebrity, and the big fat paychecks. We can, or do, have “regular” jobs” with regular hours, and most of us have to, to even get to be a part of this world. We toil away in the sun, rain, snow, hail, thunder, mud, more mud, and wind, because we just love it. I’ve seen the most fabulous sunrises, sunsets, farms, land, animals, storms, and places solely because of this sport. There’s no way to explain to someone the feeling of a perfect cross country ride, or when your horse finally puts his damn head down and understands what you want in the dressage. Unless you’ve felt it, you just can’t know. If you ask any of those seemingly “rough” eventers about their best ride and their greatest horse, they will become poets in front of you, with smiles that linger in their eyes as they tell you their stories. It always boils down to being just about the horse and the partnership, the ups and downs and challenges and failures are inevitable, but so worth it. There aren’t many sports where you can truly be a lifelong learner, where Olympians still take lessons, instead of just teaching them, or where your “equipment” has a mind of it’s own and your competitors are also your best friends.  That, is my “horse world” in a nutshell and I feel lucky every day to be a part of something so much bigger than just me.

So here I am, in my 30^th year, in a great house in the country, with two dogs, two horses, one goldfish and someone that I love more than I could ever say, and I’m so glad that my choices, some great and others questionable, brought me here. Tomorrow morning, when I wake up and look out my window and see a field full of horses, I’ll be reminded again that doing what you love is never the wrong choice.  

high on summertime

i cant believe it's been three months since my last post- time is FLYING by this spring/summer and i feel like i've sort of been on overdrive since aiken.
we got home from aiken after a weekend full of ups and downs at Poplar and I got to spend the weekend sleeping at my parents' house in Hamilton which was nice. even with the flurry of horse show activity it was great to see them and wake up to a view of the lake- i felt very "homeless" in aiken and I'm not great at making transitions with living quarters so it took a big bunch of stress off of my plate to be somewhere i felt so comfortable.

since we got home from Aiken, after a fairly exhausting truck breakdown on Easter sunday, there has pretty much been a show every weekend and i've been living a bit like a gypsy out of suitcases, shopping bags and my car- which is ummm interesting. i survived my 29th birthday without crying about being old and my friends and family were actually really fantastic and kept me quite entertained, full of sugar, and feeling ok about getting so close to the big 3-0! my sweet boyfriend was out of town that day, but we celebrated later with a romantic dinner and he gave me the first light blue Tiffany's box I have ever received with a really pretty infinity necklace inside- which i wear almost every day.

 i decided to take my yearly vacay to Rolex at the end of April and was excited about it but THEN, i got offered a grooming job AT rolex while we were at the Fork, which was even more exciting- so i took it! it was a fabulously wonderful week grooming for Madeline Blackburn and Gordonstown (and her two other non compete horses) and it was so great to experience Rolex from the "inside looking out" this year as it's always been my absolute favorite horse event of the year. Maddie and Gtown rocked the very difficult XC course which took out almost half the field of competitors and also had only one of three double clear show jumping rounds on sunday- SO amazing!

after a quick week at home and much cuddling with the doggies- who surely think our petsitter is perhaps their real daddy since i've been away so much, we were off this past weekend to MCTA which was a beautiful event and a great weekend where Murray won the intermediate, sammy jo was 5th in the prelim and moddy was 7th in the novice. all the ponies arrive home safely and jogged sound and went out to graze and i had a date with my pajamas! we also got to spend a night out in Baltimore, which has some really cute areas and good food and nightlife. we met Steve's brother and sister-in-law (who is super pregnant and super cute) out for dinners and i was happy "as a clam" with my dinner of oysters and beer. it was too cloudy to see the supermoon, but i realized that i really like Maryland!

the next few months are sure to be action packed with lots of shows- possibly Bromont in Canada- which would be super exciting and hopefully a few weekends at home where i can spend saturday morning wandering around the Charlottesville farmers market and hanging out in the garden with the doggies.

jazz was as glad as i was to be home from Aiken- she was not a fan of the "high stress" environment of that farm and has been stellar on the flat and over fences since we got home. with as much as i am travelling it's hard for me to keep her in consistent work, which she prefers, so i'm considering sending her to a friend in Kentucky who said she would gladly take the ride on her and keep her in shape. it would be great for us both since she appreciates a routine and i need a horse that i can come home to after two weeks and bop around a novice course without quite as much "exuberance" as jazz often has to offer. she's much to sound, athletic and talented to be a pasture puff  and although i have dreams of breeding her for my next horse, it's not in the budget at the moment- although i already have a long list of baby daddy's for her.

boyfriend is travelling as much as i am, if not more, so i relish those shows where he is already there doing the course and i get to see him after work. we have a trip planned to GA soon- which will be fun as he's never spent much time there or met my dad etc. or eaten at my brother's restaurant- so we have some adventures in store and hopefully some down time where i can lay around and be sedentary and cuddle with the doggies and him.

the summer nights are getting warmer and i love that the days are getting longer and longer- i feel like i get so much more accomplished when the days are longer and there's nothing that makes me happier than frolicking around the yard barefoot with the dogs and throwing an easy dinner on the grill. i had a day off today- and even though i have spent the majority of it at the DMV finally getting the VA tags for the car and am currently sitting at an auto garage getting my inspection stickers, i'm looking forward to an evening on the porch and probably and early bedtime. im so old- i know.

more later- i have a rant about 3 series BMW's and salt life stickers to share....

-ellie