Let Me Tell You About Wendy

I met Wendy what? 30+ years ago.

She is lovely.

She is petite, has gorgeous black hair, beautiful sparkling eyes, a flawless complexion and a smile that lights the night. Truly a classic beauty.

More importantly she is kind, gracious & humble. One of those people who looks for, and finds, the positives in life.   Someone who you could almost learn to dislike because she, she's so...perfect! But that's impossible to do because she also comes with this little grin that flirts with the corners of her lips when we're all getting TOO serious about ourselves.

I am always amazed by my friends. I know some awesome people. Their biggest flaw seems to be that they like me, in spite of myself!

What's up with that???

Don't get me wrong...I'm grateful. Truly. But still....

So the other day Wendy & I are instant messaging. Basically making noise, no earth shattering news being passed back & forth. I'm making my usual scathing, in your face remarks - trying to be funny. I reread something I've written and figure it's time to repent. "Sorry," I write, "was trying to be humorous - sometimes I think I'm funny." :(

Without missing a beat she writes back - "You are."

Ahhhh.

Okay, she may have one fault. Apparently she lies.

But I love her for it!

Silly Horthy

A new horseshoer was recommended to me and Padwon got her hooves trimmed today.

Turns out it wasn't a horseshoer, they are a team.  Older guy, Steve & his apprentice. Both good hands w/ a horse.

But two new people in her barn? My little blond just stressed about it.

Overall she did fairly well, and I had to laugh when I led her out so that Steve could watch how she was traveling. We were done and as we were talking, in the middle of the pasture, I undid her halter. As soon as she was free she went from patiently standing to an immediate explosion of action - the head went up, the tail went up and she thundered off at a dead run, throwing dirt clods in the air as she fled across the pasture. She reached the far fence, turned and glared balefully at us.

Just had to let us know that she thoroughly disapproved of two strange men crowding her.

But she's a girl who's got her priorities straight...

I got a handful of grainful of grain, whistled, and said..."if you want this you'd best come arunning!"

Huh?

Her head jerks, she sees that the guys are out of the corral so she immediately makes a bee line to me and the grain.

I guess being (and remaining) indignant is just not all that it's cracked up to be!

It's Been One of Those Weeks

I need to turn to more light hearted posts. Find something funny, clever, witty to talk about, but first...

Without going into details I need to confess that I was asked, the other day, to do something.

"And?" You say...

Well, yes, at first blush I know it appears I am being a crank again.

I don't mind helping people. I do mind enabling people, especially those who are younger, fitter, and more able than I. And when they want me to pay their way, do their jobs, take care of their tasks, or personal chores that they are just flat TOO LAZY or cheap to do?

Fortunately she surprised me so badly that I was struck momentarily speechless, therefore by the time I was ready to ask her what her last slave had died of - the moment had passed...

On the polar end of the spectrum I am regularly dismayed, by the amount of people who can truly use assistance. There are many who have not had the physical, spiritual or financial blessings that some of the rest of us have. This morning a sweet woman, who has battled a series of health crisis's, was overwhelmed. This lovely lady needed, at the very least, a friend, a confidante.

This week I've run into people who have no respect for other's property, time or feelings.  On the other hand I've seen humble people who are lonely and discouraged who could truly use some help. I have little patience for the first. Almost limitless sympathy for the last.

The sad thing is that the entitlement babies are a yawning, mass of self centered neurosis's. You literally can't do enough for them.

More heartbreaking are those truly in need. They ask so little. They expect even less. And because of that they so often go unnoticed, especially when they're surrounded by the "ME" menagerie.

I weary of the madding crowd. Sometimes it seems a fine irony that we're commanded to esteem our brother even as our selves because some of those selfish souls use all the available oxygen leaving the frail ones to faint.

And that just doesn't seem fair.

-

Enuf With The Dogs Already!

We live in a semi-rural area, BUT there is a county leash law...like if you own a dog it should be on your property and stay there. Whatever it takes. Obedience training, electronic monitoring, fencing or alas - a chain.
You know where this is going, yes?

Last nite, as I came home and started to drive into the garage I saw a tell tell streak of water slurred all the way across the driveway.

Someones dog, (you know, the dog that WE do not own. The dog that is supposed to be in its own yard?) has been in our pond. Killing the fish & trampling the landscaping.

Again.

Sigh.

Then when I tried to let the cat out later he started out the door & did a wild 180 as he rushed back into the house just slightly ahead of another neighbors mutt.

So today while I'm working I pull up to a mailbox. An older woman is walking her chocolate lab. (We are not in front of her house.) As I pull to the mail box, she looks confused. The ground is nicely leveled both in front of and behind the mailbox. There is even layer of gravel all around it and ample room to pass behind said box.

Does she think I wish to speak w/her?

Ummm, let's see...vehicle w/sole occupant sitting on the "wrong" side of the vehicle, a sign that says US Mail, a person wearing a USPS badge and a hand held out with letters aiming for the mail box.

Maybe it's the mail lady????

Or maybe it's just taking her a little time to process what's going on and she'll assume it's safe for her to continue walking her dog by GOING BEHIND THE MAIL BOX.

Silly me.

Instead she stops, is standing there (holding her leashed dog) staring as it jumps up on the side of the van with it's very large, untrimmed toe nails.

I can hear the screech of it's nails on the paint.

I know I've got "the look" on my face.

Our little lady looks puzzled. At no time does she reprimand the animal or attempt to get it off of my vehicle, or apologize. She can't seem to understand why I would be annoyed. "She's very friendly," she assures me.

Really? Who would have guessed?

I'd like to assure her that she can now pay for the damage to my vehicle her flippin' friendly animal caused.

She finally pulls the dog off of the van and continues her walk.

I wonder, uncharitably, if I can follow her home and put a huge scratch in her vehicle. She wouldn't have a problem with that, right?

You know - I actually like dogs.

But I'd rather their owner's would enjoy them on their own time and their own property.

Novel idea, eh?

Very BIG Needles

I sooo would have not made a good junkie.

Hate needles.

Always have since I was a little girl and my parents, for some reason, decided to take all 4 of us kids to the doctors office for shots.

Mom left.

The four of us were hanging out in one of the rooms. I was about four????

The nurse comes in with this hypo. Looks around and grabs Ron. Jabs him - he squeals and makes all kind of noise. Then Allen. He didn't look a lot happier. After that Jo and by the time she got to me, well I wasn't sure exactly WHAT was going on, but my little brain had processed that it was. not. a. good. thing.

I remember making a dash for freedom. I jumped over a chair, tried to climb over the bed...I was terrified. I think I was going to try to jump out of the barred windows. Tears were streaming down my face. The woman must have been a bulldogger in a former life because she grabbed me as I ran past, sat on me and you know, I was so hysterical that I can't even remember getting the shot now.

Still don't know what it was for.

I asked Mom. She doesn't remember.

Needless to say I've cast a jaundiced eye at anyone bearing a needle since.

I've had 3 c-sections and being Rh neg. and somewhat accident prone I've had multiple opportunities to glare at needle bearing, nurses, technicians, phlebotomists & doctors.

And you know what?

They don't care.

In order to try to preserve some vestige of dignity I long ago decided to simply ignore the blood suckers. I go to my happy place: ride my gelding, Sabyr, along the South Touchet River; listen to the breeze rustle thru the leaves; and feel the warmth of the sun on my back. It also helps to look any place but where they're setting up their mid-evil weapons of torture...

So today, I had to go get cortisone shots in both knees. It's been seven months since the last one and that was just in the left knee. The doctor used his little freeze spray stuff, the nurse handed him the needle below the table and other than feeling a short period of pressure, it was done.

Oh, you rock Doc!

Today however, the Orthopedic Office was a little busy. Sandra, the nurse, filled the syringes, laid out all the supplies and left. I read a magazine, contemplated the ceiling, laid down & pretended to take a short nap, but you know when you and the needles are just sitting there for 45 minutes...

Holy kraut! Look at those puppies. I've used smaller needles on my horses!!! Now I know the cortisone is probably viscuous and needs a larger hole and bigger needle to be delivered, but these babies were a good 3 inches long.

I stare in fascination.

Then I start figuring how much longer I could deal with the pain before it would drive me back to the office...Just as I finally decided that there is no time like now to revert to my 4 year old self, and make an escape, Dr. Perry walks in.

He grabs the syringe  and waves it around. He has forgotten that I have a needle phobia. I grit my teeth and focus on the door knob.

First one, some pressure but pretty good. I let out the breath I'm holding.

Second one...yes, I know to hold VERY STILL. But I have chubby knees. That makes it more difficult to hit the correct spot and well, "we" didn't make it. The needle hits a nerve and the knee bounces in an automatic reflex.

"Eek," I squeak, "sorry, sorry, sorry."

"DO NOT MOVE." He says through gritted teeth.

"I know, I know, I know..."

We both take a collective breath.

"Okay, I have this in but I need to re-angle it. Stay still."

As I nod, he goes again & I let out an involuntary squeal and I find I'm trying to suck my leg backwards into the table. He stops momentarily. We look at each other. Then he "jams" it home & injects the fluid in one quick motion...

"Ummm," I say, "that was - fun."

He looks at me sympathetically and says, "Ice it when you get home."

Sandra finally shows up. As I go to the front desk she walks with me. "You okay?
You're not going to collapse are you?"

"No, no." I say. "It just feels a little weird, but it'll work itself out. Besides, seriously, if I fall what are YOU going to do about it?"

"Well," my 115 pound nurse says, "I can catch you...or if all else fails, throw myself on the floor first so you have some cushioning to land on!"

I've got a visual on this and I just start LMAO! I grope for the wall so I literally don't fall down laughing.

I wipe a tear from my eye and say, "If that happens, do us both a favor and get the heck out of the way!!!!"

Silly girl.

You know, I've been doggin' the diet for a while. Lost 55 pounds and then just got lazy...but not anymore.

Needles, very BIG needles = incentive. Lots & lots of incentive.

It's All About Me - Revisited

Boy I hate it when I have to come back and severely edit a post. Ohhhhhh. Wow.

Anyway I started by saying that...

Farm Boy got a phone call the other night. Someone had issues. Thought they'd been left out of the loop. Felt there was information they should have been privy to, and when they didn't get the full scoop they considered it vote of 'lack of confidence'. They were ready to fold their tent and get the heck out of Dodge.


Farm Boy wasn't quite sure what to do and hands the phone off to me, telling our caller that I can fill him in on the situation better than he can.

????

Let's be clear...this was not a teenager. It was a mature person who had been given a calling. It was a delicate situation but his main duty was just to be there, act normal and help with whatever, whenever it was requested...

As I tried to explain the condensed story he just wasn't feeling it.

The core of my comments were a call to compassion, understanding and service. A gently held carrot coaxing a recalcitrant horse through the gate. An extension of all my feminine wiles to placate a man's wounded vanity. It's the same story/scenario which has been repeated between the sexes since the dawn of time. A diplomatic masterpiece that would have been much more satisfying welded as a baseball bat. However there were other people to consider so diplomacy was the weapon of choice.

I ended the conversation by reminding this man how much I valued his friendship and how much I cared for him.

You know what he said?

"Yes, I know you do. But it isn't enough."

And then he hung up.

...

You know, there are a lot of people who need help and fellowship. We've been told to lengthen our stride and we should, but, the fact is that we're not going to be able to be everything for everyone.

Sometimes I find I've over scheduled myself...and unfortunately that means that I'm probably not doing any one thing REALLY well, but I keep stumbling on anyway, doing the best I can at the moment.

You know, I used to watch my father beat the crap out of my mother. I definitely grew up with a bad attitude about the "Me Tarzan, You Jane," I've got to be in charge at all cost, types.

As for  "our friend," you know, the "it's all about me" guy...

Oh, Deep, Cleansing. Breaths.

Don't know what to say. Except, thanks for hanging up. An age old frustration burns and I'm left with the final assessment of:

Ego...thy name is MAN.

Make A Plan & Work It

I have a co-worker. Sweet woman, seriously, but...

She has a tendency to meet us at the door on days that the work load is heavy and greet us with a 'doom and gloom' thing. Going on six years now and she's just now finally realizing that I'd rather not be met with the equivalent of "Welcome to your piece of crap day!!!!"

I don't know anyone who likes to be dumped on, but it happens, yes? So when I walk to my station/case it usually only takes seconds to size up the situation, and...

light,

heavy,

or

"oh heck, what the ???"


It is what it is.

Then I set to, and try to get 'er done.

I'd like to say that I handle all challenges with great dignity and aplomb. But...no. I have my moments. I've been surprised on occasion, badly a time or two. But I've never given up, yet.

Okay, there are a couple of issues that I just haven't dealt with...and yes, when that happens, I pretty much opened up a closet, chuck IT inside, slam the door and lock it, and having no brilliant ideas on what else to do about it...leave. For the rest of it, my mantra is pretty much..."Suck it up, buttercup." Then the shoulder gets thrown to the wheel and on I go.

There are some people I know, however, who grind to a stop on a regular basis. The road blocks life throws in their way bring them to a complete halt.

I was reading the book Rhineland Inheritance by T. Davis Bunn. While not heavy, philosophical reading I found it interesting because it described the destruction of German cities following WWII. (Especially interesting for those of us searching for German genealogy records.) My great grandfather and most of his family were in Germany during the war. Times were hard. His daughter, my grandmother, sent packages with supplies and food as often as she could from America. The book tells of the aftermath of the war and the roving bands of homeless children who were orphaned or abandoned because there was no way for the parents to care for them. The army staff tasked to deal with the situation were often stressed because no matter what they did to assist it was never enough. The author noted that when dealing with death and destruction there is sorrow everywhere. He suggested, through the character of the Army Chaplin, that there are three basic choices we have when dealing with it.

1) You can let it overwhelm you, and if you do it can drive you around the bend.

2) You can lock yourself away. This is what a majority of people choose to do. Sometimes they simply refuse to deal with life, they are imprisoned within themselves. Others only allow themselves to tend to their own hunger. Still others see nothing but their own pain or hate. Because they are blinded by their own will, they view their own pain and anger as justification for other's suffering.

3) The last choice is to learn to take each day as it comes, and to do what you can with what you have. This means learning that you cannot avoid seeing the suffering of others, which is hard. I would imagine that it would be impossible to do this without the strength of God in your heart. At least a believer can respond to this suffering with prayer. But the key is to learn to do with what you have. Do not see yourself as a failure because you can't touch all who suffer. Recognize that universal healing can only come through Jesus Christ, and accept your assigned task. Then do all you can with everything you've been given.

Life has its moments of unsurpassed beauty. It also has it moments of soul crushing pain. Our job is to go onward. Some of my favorite lines of poetry come from Robert Frost's Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 
It's okay to stop and catch your breath, or admire the view. But whether the end of the day or the end of our years here on earth, we all have miles to go, good works to do, people who need our help. IT is not about "me".
 
Best get going, eh?
-