Kids at Heart

Saturday, I went to see a few friends ride in a mountain bike race. It was more of a fun race than a serious race (except to some bikers who just can't help themselves), complete with Halloween costumes. We never quite grow up do we? Zooming around on bikes... wearing costumes... what could be better?

I'm sure my friend Sue will have more photos and information about the bike event, so you should check out her blog for a post on the event. She was certainly into the pure fun of the ride, and I think that she had the best costume.

The kids with the unicycle and giant bike didn't actually ride the trails but played around the start area. I guess there have been a couple unicycles that have rode the trails though. Not sure how you do that without brakes.

I walked a bit of the "easy" trail and am thinking that I could ride it on my "sort of" mountain bike. It has decent tires and front shocks, but not rear, and my handle bars are too upright, but I'm not looking for a super challenge, no bounding over boulders, I just would enjoy riding through the woods on a dirt trail.

It was fun watching people ride and the costumes were definitely a nice touch. I felt sorry for the poor guy riding the tandem bike though. The hills were killer for the regular bikes. On a tandem, he was working pretty darn hard.

After watching people ride, I went and did some riding of my own on Luke. I didn't bring my camera but he is definitely putting on his winter coat. He is no longer sleek Luke, but is turning into mountain goat Luke.

Today was spent recovering my dining room chairs, which took a lot longer than I thought it would. I finally got my dining room table back. I think it looks great but it certainly cuts down on the roomy look of my living and dining area. I'm going to have to move the light to line up with the table as the light's current position placed the table too close to my couch.

I can't remember how put together I had the living room last time I showed a photo, but it looks like this now.

Java was a very good girl with the trick or treaters.

But only 30 kids came to my door. What will I do with the other 120 pieces of candy that I bought?

Rejection and Change

I follow Mary Carroll Moore's blog on writing. Her posts have the best insights about writing and the most helpful writing exercises that I have ever encountered. But her recent post called "Acceptance and Rejection - Balance in the Creative Life" not only struck a chord with me as a writer, but with me as a rejected wife.

Like a novel that's been rejected by publisher after publisher, I have been rejected by person after person. The divorce felt like the last straw, like an accumulation of rejection that is more than I could stand.

Mary wrote in her blog that discouragement comes from "the process of losing heart, losing perspective." That it's hard for writers to recover when their work is rejected -- "It's hard to imagine how you're going to move forward, especially when you read other (wonderful) writers and sigh with the impossibility of being that good."

I compare myself and my life to the women who have long-term, happy marriages. I compare myself to the woman I was replaced by. I compare and I wonder what's wrong with me. Comparison -- it is the root of all evil, the creator of dissatisfaction and low self esteem.

"As creative artists, we want our work to be viewed and appreciated, but this by itself won't keep us going. We need to do it for the love of it." Mary wrote.

Maybe the same goes with living our lives. Rather than seeking approval and love, why not just do what you do for the love of it?

I went out with a couple friends this evening and part of our discussion was about feeling more and more invisible as we we age. And how we just want people to see past the outer shell to the glowing, adventurous, interesting person underneath the not so young skin. That may be the hardest part about aging, the not being heard or seen as the people we really are. But then my friends see me. They "get it" and that's why I love being with them.

I've been making a list of what I've always wanted in a partner -- my dream guy. Not with the intention of searching for a person that matches my list, but of becoming the person that my list describes. I seem to come up with a more meaningful inventory by doing this rather than just trying to think about "goals" for myself or what I want to do and be. Because consciously or subconsciously, the things I long for in someone else are characteristics that I value. How can I expect a person to be something that I myself am not? Plus I believe we draw to ourselves and we draw out of the people already around us whatever it is we are putting out there ourselves.

Mary Carroll Moore described the process of revising one of her manuscripts to the point that the changes she was making had larger implications, requiring changes throughout the book. It's frightening to move forward, not knowing exactly how it's all going to turn out. But as Mary wrote, "There's the joy of developing skills--if you keep on keepin' on."

I can see how changes I've made in my life have mushroomed in unexpected ways that have nothing to do with what I initially set out to do. This is sometimes frightening, but does make me curious to see how it will all turn out.

At times, I can recognize some positive things that have come out of the changes in my life, like wonderful new friendships and continuing to push myself to new riding experiences. Other times, it's not so evident or easy to see the good that exists. But the hope and promise are there.

Swollen Lips and Rapping Dairy Farmers

I'm not sure what Java got in to, but the other night her lips swelled up huge! She was not a happy girl.

I was thinking it must have been some kind of bug bite or sting, although I thought bugs were dead or hibernating by now.

Java was scratching her face and ears so bad that her ears were getting red and they were bleeding a little. So I gave her one Benadryl. According to a vet site online, I should have given her two but I know how those things knock me out and I didn't want to overdose her. I've since learned from my vet that Benadryl is pretty safe and I can't kill my dog with two pills.

Neither of us got much sleep that night. I kept on getting up to check her breathing and heart rate and wondering whether I should make a trip to the 24 hour vet. Java seemed to be doing fine - the Benadryl helped quite a bit - so I kept trying to sleep, without much luck.

The swelling went down gradually, but Java's ears still look pretty sore.

The skijoring club is swinging back into action with a workshop today and Sunday. Java has gotten stronger since last year so it should be interesting skiing behind her. Could it be that I'm wishing for snow?

Well, not yet, another month of above freezing temps would be nice, but I do hope for huge amounts after December, even though I don't have a snowblower. I'm not looking forward to shoveling. I have way too many steps to my front door.

I found this Dairy Farm rap online. A must see! If this doesn't make you laugh, nothing will.

Clouds

A strange thing has happened in the last couple years. Well, one of many strange things --- I've become perplexingly fascinated with clouds.

Driving to work last week, at every red traffic light, I tried to capture a shot of the sky with my camera. Why are traffic lights never red long when you want them to be?

More amazing to me was that no one else was doing the same thing. They stared straight ahead, unseeing, busy talking on their cell phones.

Variations in cloud patterns catch my attention and hold it.

The wispy ones. 

The softballs. 

The dark menacing blobs.

Just when I think I must certainly have seen every cloud type there is, another one jumps out at me. 

The light or lack of light creates a color wheel of backdrops. 

I stare and watch the heavens change before my eyes. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, depending on the whims of the wind.

My camera often does funny things with the photos -- lines are blurred, colors changed. The camera lens sees things differently than I do. Never quite managing to capture the intensity.

It all plays together -- the clouds, the light, the sky, the wind. Even the seasons make a difference. It's a symphony, an endless variety of major and minor chords. A work of art -- sometimes a beautiful Monet, other times something from Francis Bacon.

It occurs to me that rather than writing about clouds, I could be writing about people and how life can play us like a grand piano or a guitar with broken strings.

Like a cloud, we can be changed by light (love) shining on us, or by the withdrawal of that light. We can be blown in different directions. We can sometimes feel heavy and dark, or we can feel insubstantial, barely visible and sometimes not there at all.

Maybe if we get out of the way, let go of our expectations and egos, the sun will shine through.

Mounted Shooting Demo and Leaves

I am so bummed! I went to see a friend at a Mounted Shooting demo. Lots of action that I tried to capture with my camera, but most of the photos turned out looking like this:

Next time, I go to photograph any kind of fast movement, I'll bring my other camera. No guarantee there either since the lighting was bad, there was smoke from gun fire, and they were going really, really fast, but maybe a better chance of getting at least one good shot.

So here's what I got:

This is an 11 year old rider. At age 10 and 11, kids ride with cap guns, rather than the 45 Revolvers. Then after their ride, they shoot 3 balloons from the ground. Kids younger than that run the patterns without shooting.

The old west costumes are interesting, showing a little bit of the personality of the rider. This lady was the dressiest. In the photo, she is putting out new balloons for the next rider.

This is my friend, riding with an Annie Oakley look.

After the Mounted Shooting, there was an Extreme Cowboy Race demonstration. I'd never heard of this before. It reminded me of Competitive Trail Riding only more "Extreme". The kiddy pool had toys in it and crackled and bounced around as the horses walked through it. I won't be taking up this sport...

This narrow wood walkway teeter-tottered. Gasp!

A couple of the people doing slingshot, actually shot their horse in the back of the head. Poor babies.

I rode Luke on Saturday. No scary obstacles for us. Should have done a better job removing the bridle sweat marks.

Luke has a new pasture pal, a Rhinelander.

The rest of the weekend was spent on yard work -- burning twigs and raking and vacuuming up leaves.

My beaver supervised.

Java found one of her bones to keep her occupied.

Wow! There's actual grass under those leaves!

I only got a couple panels of the fence sealed so far. The temperature isn't cooperating.

Java has a new friend next door. They race back and forth along the fence (too fast for my stupid camera to catch them). All I could get was the after-shot.

Broken

1. Forcibly separated into two or more pieces; fractured -- broken lives
2. Having been violated -- broken promise
3. Being in a state of disarray; disordered -- broken ranks 
4. Spoken with gaps and errors -- broken communication
5. Subdued totally; humbled -- broken spirit 
6. Crushed by grief -- broken heart 
7. Not functioning; out of order -- Maery Rose

I try to stay away from the topic of depression because I'm supposed to be doing great by now, right? I have my moments, certainly. I'm a highly functional depressed person. I've struggled so long with this that I don't panic anymore. I know how to ride this out. It just wears me out is all.

I went to my NP (nurse practitioner) last week for a blood draw to test my thyroid function and make sure my medication is at the right level. She also decided to check my vitamin D and B12 levels. It's hard to test for B12 but it would be nice if some sort of deficiency was detected. Anything to explain my fatigue and inability to focus.

"Here, just take a spot of B12 and everything will be all right again."

My NP sat with her clipboard and pen in hand, asking me the usual questions, "How are you sleeping? How's your appetite? Do you have supportive family and friends?"

She listened to my answers and finally wrote, "Not suicidal" with a quick scrawl across the page.

I'm a good, Catholic girl. The more suffering the better. It ensures I get a good spot in heaven. At this point, I think I've earned myself a log cabin on a glistening blue lake, surrounded by woods and mountain peaks, where the temperature is always in the 70s, the days are long and sunny, and a state park horse trail system is right out the back door.

I've become obsessed with the idea of a roadtrip again. I just want to get in my car with Java by my side and drive. I have this fantasy that by the third day on the road, possibly when my Mini crests the top of a hill and I spot a hawk gliding effortlessly over a valley, I will have a sudden epipheny. Clarity will be mine.

Or as my NP said, "Maybe you should take an anti-depressant. No need to suffer unnecessarily."

Indeed.

I went to my computer yesterday and said  "Oh, mighty cyberspace. Show me a sign. Lead me to someone, something that will pull me out of this slimy pit of sorrow and despair. "

My first computer stop, I ran across a link to a song that made me totally sob. I only wish God's love was something I was actually able to feel. I'm jealous of those that do.

But I still love the song, I just wish the messages etched in my brain were as easy to erase as words on a chalkboard.



I rode Luke on Monday. I've been too busy to get out there much and I could tell it'd been awhile from how stiff and non-flowing Luke felt. Maybe I felt that way to Luke too. Hopefully, I'll find more time to ride soon.

My son called me today, which always helps me feel better. And a note from his sister really got to me. That's what helps I guess, people -- sweet, gorgeous people.

Oh, sorry, and non-people too!

I have a notebook I carry in my purse and I wrote down my latest motto "Make the best of what is." I read that sentence whenever my head gets to whining or starts to slink into the dark.

An even better statement came from one of my friends, who has had a bit of her own troubles. She repeated the wise words of her Irish mother,

"If you have two good strong legs and can feel the wind in your hair, you have nothing to complain about."

I've heard this quote from this friend before and I know she wrote it with a wink and a smile on her face. Most the people I know aren't big complainers. But that doesn't mean they aren't hurting.

So here's another lovely bit of Irish wisdom that I found:

“May those who love us, love us; and those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts; and if He doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping.”

Decked

I know you've just been holding your breath for this -- news on my deck status.

If you don't remember exactly what I'm talking about, well, perhaps you should consider taking some Ginko Jiloba. Wait, that doesn't sound right. Okay, so I can't remember what it's called.

Anyway, here's a refresher. The deck work started out with two guys planning on removing a row of siding and a couple boards from the deck to install a flashing, which should have been there anyway, but wasn't.

They only got as far as removing the siding when they discovered a few other things were not quite right. They thought I should look at it before they went any farther. (Note that Shy is looking aghast with her death ray eyes.)

This sent my heart aflutter. But after the initial shock, I said, "Well, it has to be fixed, so do whatever needs to be done."

The next day I came home to this. Heart attack number two.

 It took the guys awhile to determine what to do with this mess. So many things were wrong with how the deck had been installed. We checked the city offices. No permit pulled. At least an inspector hadn't approved this. Geeze!

The rotted stuff was removed and replaced with some new boards. Concrete was poured to install three legs that would be attached to a crossbeam so the deck would be somewhat freestanding.

The final work turned out really nice, clean and sturdy looking. A big improvement!

Saturday was spent putting down deck cleaner, then spraying it off with a pressure washer to remove as much of the old stain, dirt, and grayness as possible.

Sunday, the protective sealant was applied.

It took longer than I thought it would. Doesn't everything? I'd been hoping to get the privacy fence done too but that will have to wait until next weekend.

It about broke my heart to spend the whole gorgeously, weather-perfect weekend working on my deck. Unfortunately, you can't exactly do that kind of work on a crummy, cold, rainy weekend. I had hoped to get the deck furniture done too but that WILL wait until a crummy weekend as it can be done in the garage.

I did manage to get out on my bike and pick up some food at the coop and butcher shop. I love that I can do this! And I love my bike basket!

I enjoy the slowness and leisureliness of running my errands on my bike. I am so often in a rush, trying to get as much done as possible, as quickly as possible, and missing out on the beauty of the day.

I enjoyed the bike ride, the compliments I got on my helmet, the conversation I had with another bike rider who was practically aglow with happiness about the warm weather, watching the butcher slice my turkey meat for my lunches and wrap up the hamburger to be grilled for supper, picking out a couple bones for Java, and so on. The whole process made me light hearted and happy. If you don't remember my awesome helmet, let me refresh your memory...

And last Friday, Java and I walked to the drugstore to pick up a couple of my prescriptions at the drive through window. Java got three dog treats out of the deal and several compliments about what a pretty dog she is. (Maery beams because she thinks so too.)

Here, Java stopped gnawing on her bone for a moment to check out a scent in the air.

Maybe she just smelled all the leaves that have fallen to the ground. My technique of just chopping the leaves up with the lawn mower isn't keeping up with the deluge of tree droppings.

Is anyone else having trouble with their dog bringing in a pile of leaves, stored mainly in their tail, every time they come back in from outside?

And now for a brief word from Shy, who I caught enjoying a patch of sun that crossed my bed.

I couldn't have said it better. Good night all!