The Benefits of Procrastination

I have 4 categories that I divide my daily activities into:

1. Things that will help me reach a goal - Such as taking a writing class and writing a set number of words per day to move towards completing a book, or learning how to hitch up the horse trailer and backup so I can take Luke to a park and trail ride.
2. Things that I love doing - This includes all kinds of activities, such as trail riding, going to a concert, bike riding, hiking, gardening, meeting up with friends, etc.
3. Things that are a necessary evil - These are all those things that fall into the category of have to do or should do, such as working, cleaning house, laundry, grocery shopping, mowing the lawn, etc.
4. Things that I would never go out of my way to do but will do because someone else I care about enjoys it - This includes things I feel too busy to add to my schedule, things that are not high on my enjoyment list and things that are done with people I feel uncomfortable around. Examples include golfing, watching a sport event, hanging out at a bar, sitting around with people you don't know where you just can't seem to get in on the conversation, and just sitting in general (I suck at sitting unless it's with a good book but then that's not very social is it?).

Number 4 is especially hard for me when number 1, 2 and 3 are curling their fingers around my arm.

If I'm feeling really behind on something, which is pretty much a constant state of being, it's especially hard to be a willing participant in number 4. But that's rather selfish isn't it? And short-sighted too, as I've found that some times activities I've dreaded have actually turned out to be a lot of fun. Like the Twins game I last wrote about. I told you I'd manage to make baseball introspective somehow.

The point is that I'm learning to let go of this need to have everything I do have a purpose and to not worry so much about what I could be getting done while I'm goofing off.

Maybe that's part of the aging process, discovering the benefits of slowing down a bit, knowing that there is enough time in life to get the important stuff done.

I've also come to believe you don't get to leave this earth until you are done with what you were sent to do. Therefore, by procrastinating, I'll actually get to live longer. That's only a theory, which probably wouldn't stand up to scrutiny but it helps me relax a bit.

Rediscovering Outdoor Baseball

Ugh. Yesterday was a carrying horse feed and dog food and trying to hoist up my garage door kind of day. My left shoulder feels as though a knife is sticking out of it. Maybe I should check in a mirror, just in case.

Tuesday, around 5 AM, there was this strange, reoccuring orange glow in the sky, accompanied by a noise that did not sound like thunder but something a little scarier. I sat up in bed, wondering what it was, and then suddenly, my power went out.

I tried to unhook the electric garage door opener and manually lift the door but it was barely budging before dropping back down again, and I didn't feel like trying to drive under a door that wanted to slam shut on me. It was a huge sacrifice but I had to remain home and work from there.

Fortunately, the non-stop rain we've been having did not dampen my trip to Target Field last Sunday, where I watched the Twins play the Padres. It was the first time I'd been to the new stadium.

They have these bronze statues there. I liked the one of Harmon Killebrew since I worshipped him as a kid. He died at age 74 on May 17, 2011.

Sitting outdoors for a game brought back memories of watching the Twins with my Mom and my brother when I was a kid.  I remember the food mostly, like Cracker Jacks, which tasted like candy coated plastic, but I was always optimistic there would be an emerald, glowy ring in there. More often I got something like a black rubber spider.

My favorite thing to eat at a game was the soft serve icecream in a cup that came with one of those wooden spoons that looked like a miniature kayak paddle and I worried about getting splinters in my tongue. I was that kind of a kid.

Sunday, I didn't have any Twins attire and was too cheap to buy anything at the game. I hear you can get a good deal on the same clothing at Fleet Farm. I'm not really a baseball fan but I can see myself going back now that they game is played outside. Baseball belongs under an open sky. The food and beer taste better that way.

Here are a few other shots:

The celebratory shaving cream, looks like it hurts. 

(FYI - these last four photos were taken by photographing the big screen that shows replays and stuff as I wasn't that close to the action. If you haven't tried Photoshop's "Noise Despeckle" filter, let me tell you, it's magical.)

I know this isn't my usual introspective, nature loving post, which maybe is a relief, but it actually does have a deeper meaning. How could it not?

I'll explain what attending a baseball game has to do with my life journey in my next post.

Still Growing

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death.  ~Betty Bender

I study trees a lot. I'm fascinated with the way they overcome adversity. They are experts at self healing. They can be scarred with holes, knots, and fungus. Still they carry on. I admire their scars for the strength they show.

I admire the way they hang on.

Even when they're knocked down, they repurpose. They become a home for other beings. An interesting part of the landscape.

I study every line, every variation in bark, the way the light filters through the branches. 

Even the Brew Babes have started to contemplate the wonder of it all.

I want to understand how this works -- this being scarred, but still growing.

I've been doing some scary stuff lately. Scary for me anyway. Stuff where I might look stupid. Stuff where I might be rejected. Stuff that is not completely thought out. Stuff that is a bit outside my everyday realm and I'm not sure if I'm doing it right.

And you know what? I'm excited! I think I'm even okay with rejection. It means I'm trying, which is better than playing it safe. 

Jump Already!

It doesn't matter how long we may have been stuck in a sense of our limitations. If we go into a darkened room and turn on the light, it doesn't matter if the room has been dark for a day, a week, or ten thousand years -- we turn on the light and it is illuminated. Once we control our capacity for love and happiness, the light has been turned on. - Sharon Salzberg

I forgot to mention in my last post on mountain biking that I have decided on a name for my bike. I had considered Blacky, Hi-Ho-Silver, or Daisy May (cuz my helmet has daisies on it).

Then it came to me, in a flash of inspiration -- Sybil! (after the woman with multiple personalities). I figure this is fitting since my mountain biking ventures have been fraught by a battle between my adventurous, daredevilly-self and my frightened, expect the worst-self who hears her mother-self yelling at her “You could put your eye out!”

Okay. Now onto more serious stuff.

I've been playing catch up lately on reading people's blogs. I've recently started following more blogs owned by writers and photographers, searching for tips and ideas on how to grow and give in to the way my passion in these areas has kidnapped my brain and sent it on a wild whitewater ride.

One of the blogs I've been reading that has contained a great deal of insights into the writing life is a blog by Theodora Goss. In her post "The Inner Life" she wrote:

1. You need to live an imaginative life, just in general. Spend the day going around and imagining. Don't worry, you'll still look perfectly normal. No one will realize that you're imagining a stranger on the T as the Grand Inquisitor.
2. You need to believe in the importance of your own writing. That deep and fundamental belief will allow you to have the faith you need to put in the hours. The many, many hours.
3. You need to make writing a habit, a regular practice. That's the way you'll be able to, consistently, sit down and write. Some people may not need to do this, may be natural geniuses, I don't know. I rather doubt it? But I know that I need to.

Number 2 is a big one for me -- believing in the importance of my writing. There are so many writers trying to get themselves published out there. Does the world really need one more? If such great talent is struggling, who do I think I am that anyone will publish my book. And if I manage to make it that far, who will want to read it?

"The many, many hours" is another hurdle -- a mountain of huffing and puffing effort. 

I have a hard time getting rolling and sticking to a schedule. I'm so easily distracted. Like yesterday, rather than write, I did some design work on my blog. Granted adding some share buttons and a Twitter follow button were on my list of things to do and I felt pretty good when I finally figured out how to add these things, but that effort should have come after I did my writing. As usual, I ran out of time to actually write.

Writing my book - not my blog, not email, not a To Do list - is what's going to move me closer to my goal of completing said book. All the rest is just window dressing. I'm in danger of becoming the "Emperor With No Clothes".

Yet, I feel that I need to produce some shorter pieces because I need to get published and I can't wait for the book to get done. Some would say this is wrong-thinking. In fact, every time I've tried to publish a shorter piece I've been told it doesn't work. But those were book excerpts and perhaps they did not work alone.

As Theodora Goss said in her post, "The more you write, and particularly the more you publish, the more you will believe in the importance of your own writing. (Because that reinforcement really does help.)"

I agree. After floundering around for this long, I need proof of my writerly legitimacy. It doesn't matter that I SHOULDN'T need it. At this point I do need it. I don't care where I'm published. I don't care about being paid. I just want to be able to say  "Maery's work has been published in the 'Timbuktoo Newsline', the chapbook 'The Lost Cowgirl', the photo journal website 'Look What I Saw!' and the anthology 'Don't Mess with Mama Bear: stories by mother's of gay children'." or some such list like that.

Another thing that Goss wrote is: ... writing is not a hobby, not something you can do on the side. Not if you want to do it well. It's something that will become your life, that will determine how you look at the world, relate to others – relate even to yourself, because you will live in part by the shore of the sea of imagination, which is a magical place to live but also means that you will only ever be half in the ordinary world. Half of you will be elsewhere. And that will be disconcerting to the people around you.

There have been periods where ending a writing session has left me as groggy as if I am just awakening from a deep sleep. I look around trying to remember where I am and to pull myself back into the world I see around me.

Writing, doing the real work of it, is a risk. I don't want to fail, and I don't want to lose the personal relationships I've gained in the past couple years.

But I've learned a few things about balance. I believe that in order for your writing to be interesting, your life has to be interesting. You need to keep exposing yourself to new challenges and exeriences, refining the skills and knowledge you have, but not be so busy that you don't notice the hand on your shoulder, the bark on the trees, or the darkly rich smell of coffee filling the house.

Picture me standing on the high diving board, looking down into a glassy pool of water below. I don't know how to do a fancy dive. But I can  jump in -- feet first.

A Blog and a Woman in Progress

'To rest on one's laurels' - If someone rests on their laurels, they rely on their past achievements, rather than trying to achieve things now.

My blog has been on quite a journey. It started out as a blog about my life on my dream hobby farm with my dreamy husband. Or so I thought.

As I look back at my initial posts, I can see that I didn't include my husband much. I thought that was because I wanted to respect his privacy. More than that, I felt like I was often an embarrassment to him. It was better for him not to be too publicly linked to me. I could hurt his career and his reputation as a cool dude.

He withdrew so gradually from me that I didn't consciously notice. I made excuses for his behavior, as is my usual mode. I tried harder not to bother or annoy him, and did more things alone or with my friends.

I started blogging because I wanted things to change. I wanted to revitalize our marriage. I wanted to make our home this great place where friends and family would feel welcome. And my way of working through "stuff" and making changes is to write. I write until the story comes out the way that I want it to. Obviously, this tactic does not always work out as planned.

I also started the blog as a way of starting on a book I had in mind. A few months before my biological Dad died in late 2008, he asked me to write him letters about my life before he'd met me. I was reluctant to do that as I was torn between wanting to have this very "conversation" with him before it was too late, and worrying that it wasn't a good time for him to know the truth of the effects of his decision to give me up for adoption.

My Dad died before I had a chance to write anything and that's when the idea for writing a book called "Letters I Wish I'd Written to My Dad" was born and why I decided to call my blog Cowgirlbyproxy.

But after only a couple months of blogging, my dream turned into a nightmare of divorce. The focus of my blog went in a different direction - mainly a day-by-day, bleed-by-bleed account of my downfall and attempts to rise back up from the ashes doing such things as:

• Learning how to hook up and pull the horse trailer by myself. 
• I started trail riding on my own and eventually trail riding for an entire weekend with friends I met after I moved my horse Luke to a boarding facility.
• I took up cross country skiing and started skijoring with Java and skiing with friends.
• I started taking a lot of photos, which prompted me to want to learn more about photography and buy a better camera.
• My dream home sold and I moved to a new house that I am working on changing from a place where I cry a lot into a place where I can feel inspired and happy.
• A few household projects, like a fence around the yard, new floors, a deck repair and a new furnace, were completed soon after I moved in.
• There are lots of projects being built in my brain - attempts to incorporate more nature into my surroundings, both inside and outside. Oh, and a stove that doesn't keep having the flame go out and try to gas me to death would be nice...
• I added a puppy to my menagerie and my attempts to become a better dog trainer and clicker user continue. (By the way, I have bought and tried every type of collar and harness known to man and have yet to meet one that I really like. So if some company out there wants to donate one for me to try and evaluate, I am totally game.)

• I started worm composting and nurtured my own seedlings to plant in my new raised beds and pots.

• I am working on raising my own herbs and learning how to use what I'm growing for seasoning and to make tea.

• I would love to add chickens to the mix for the fresh eggs, bug control, and as another way of adding a more rural feel to my surroundings. But I'd need to convert my shed to a coop and do some other work that may be a bit too much to take on at this time. Maybe next year...
• I spent the month of April 2011 writing daily poems, and I jaw off and on about writing a book and things I'm going to do to make that happen.
• I applied for a writing grant and made it past the first cut. Unfortunately I didn't win but at least I tried, and I made a few plans and discoveries in the process.
• I went to an event where women could learn about and try mountain biking. I enjoyed it so much that I traded in my hybrid bike and started exploring other mountain bike trails.

So to summarize, at this point, my blog has progressed from a "cowgirl/farm life with my man" blog to a single woman doing... doing... doing what exactly?

That is the question. And trying to find the answer has sent me into a whole other down-spin of depression and prayer that I please not have to wake up and do this all over again tomorrow. Alas, I'm still here doing. But once again, what exactly am I doing?

Let's start with this blog. This is not necessarily a blog about trail riding and horse stories. It is not a blog about my dogs and what I do as far as training and caring for them. It is not a blog about gardening and creating an urban farm. It is not a blog about a woman devastated by divorce and the loss of her dream life. It is not a blog about me as a writer or photographer. It is not even a journal about my day-to-day life.

This is a blog about a journey that I have no idea where it's going to end up or even quite where I dream of it ending up. There is this whole "I am in my 50's for cryin' out loud!" undercurrent of suspense (or is it horror?) to all of this. As of two years ago, my life became the anti-matter of everything I'd hoped it would be at this point of my life. The question of what am I doing is about more than what am I doing with this blog. It's about what am I going to do with the rest of my life?

Hopefully, someday I'll be telling you about a story or essay I had published. And I'll have a couple books on the sidebar that are available on Amazon. Maybe I'll be helping other writer's get their start. But more than anything, I hope this blog and my life will help someone who's hurting know that even the most messed up of people can come through crisis after crisis and not only be okay, but be healed, whole, and happy. Because I'm hoping to prove this to myself.

More Mountain Biking

A friend and I took our mountain bikes to Milaca Trail today. It was a ways to drive, but it looked like an easier trail for me to practice some of my skills, work on my endurance, and not end up on a trail where there's a lot of people and I feel like I'm in the way. Hopefully, I'll get over this self conscious timidness soon.

The first little road block we ran into was that my truck battery was completely dead. I have no idea why. It's a fairly new battery and it was fine when I drove it last weekend.

So we had to unload all our gear from the truck and put it into our separate cars because neither of us have a car big enough to fit two bikes into and no bike rack either. My bike just barely fit into the Mini.

The second road block was that the directions I'd found on line to get to the trail said to turn off Central onto 2nd Avenue in Milaca. Well, there were only streets that hooked up to Central. I turned on a street and found 2nd Avenue but it dead-ended, so we went to a gas station and asked for directions and discovered we should turn on 2nd STREET, not 2nd Avenue.

So by the time we found the trail, I was feeling rushed. That led to forgotting to put on bug spray or take my water bottle. Sigh...

We started riding on what we figured was the trail. There were arrows directing you but they were somewhat confusing and in spots the bike path was barely visible. We ran into a dead end so we had to backtrack.

But we finally found a trail. It was a bit rocky, which wasn't bad on flat areas but freaked me out a bit when going down hill and I slipped a lot going up hill.

The ride through the woods was great! I was enjoying working on going over roots and rocks and pipes, leaning through my turns, and leaning behind my seat going downhill.

Unfortunately, there were several wetland areas we had to go through and they were not fun. This puddle is actually nothing.

What I don't have photos of is the actual, what I would call a, swamp that we had to bike quite a distance through. I was fighting for my life so taking photos was not exactly on my mind.

The swamp grass was so high that all that was visible was my helmet as I rode through. And unfortunately, I had to walk quite a ways because i was getting so caught up in the grass and water and deep mud that I wasn't able to keep going on my bike.

Here and there, we would see signs of an actual path, and there would be arrows pointing the way, but most of the swamp area was every man for himself. My legs felt like rubber and I was about ready to throw up from breathing so hard.

I know, it sounds like I had a terrible time. Not so. The ride through the woods and meadow was well worth the trip, but no, I wouldn't go there again except maybe in a drought.

There was a second Ladies Night Mountain Bike event at Hillside a little over a week ago. I was only able to ride the beginner's run as I was plagued with guilt that the Brew Babes had already been cooped up most of the day, so I missed out on the wine and cheese and free chair massage that was available after the bike ride.

I hope my girls appreciate the sacrifices I make for them. They did have a bit of pent up energy when I got home.

Here's a video of the second Ladies Night that was held at Hillside. (I'm the first one to ride the plank in the video.) You can see more photos and read more about the event at Suelandia.

It's Absurd! No, It's Minnesota

Leaves curl on downward-dog stems, touched by solar fingers holding no mercy.

According to my temperature gauge, it hit 109 degrees on my deck yesterday! The official high was only around 105 degrees. Then today, on my walk after work, I was wishing I would have worn a jacket! Minnesota weather keeps you on your toes.



Most of my plants were doing okay after the heat wave and I made myself some tea that I'm enjoying right now. I used chocolate mint, peppermint and regular mint leaves, along with half of a stevia leaf for sweetness. It's, as you would expect, minty-fresh.





Cirrus as whispy as chick down, lies amongst spoonfuls of cumulus vanilla ice cream floating on a saucer of blue. The sun, feeling overshadowed, kicks off a fiery ball of attitude.



I'm not sure whether it's obvious, but I'm feeling a bit disjointed. The truth is, I'm spent.

Definition of spent from the Free Online Dictionary:
1. Used up; consumed: a spent youth.
2. Having come to an end; passed: a spent era of opulence.
3. Depleted of energy, force, or strength; exhausted: At the end of the hot day the spent workers slept under a shady tree.
4. Nautical Of or relating to a vessel at the end of a voyage, with fuel, stores, and water consumed and cargo discharged.

Yes, that says it all. but I'm not sure what my status exactly means. What I do know is that something has to change. An adjustment really. Get things back into alignment. Take some time to breathe.

Garden Update and Car Show

There were minor adjustments to the garden this morning when Latte was terrorizing my pepper plants. I should have bought Habanero -- that would have cured her. Instead I gated the deck.

Latte also jumped into my pot where cucumbers are planted so I put tomato cages to block her jumps.

Did I mention that gardening should be considered an extreme sport? I haven't had so many muscles in my body be this sore for a long time. There is a class at the Yoga studio nearby called "Yoga for Gardeners". I'm thinking it might be a good class to join.

Besides gardening this weekend, I also went to the  Anoka Classic Car Show. The show occurs almost every Saturday evening all summer long.

People show up with their classic cars, park in one of the designated areas, play music, hang out and tell their car restoration stories to anyone who will listen. It's a pretty popular event.

This was my favorite car. Doesn't it look like it's smiling at you?

You get into it from the front opening.

I was also drawn to cars that looked fast and fun.

And the trucks.

I liked this one too.

And I thought the paint job on this one was interesting.

The dogs were good in the crowd. Java enjoyed being petted by children -- Latte, not so much.

Latte is terrified of children. She's okay walking past them on our walks but if they approach her, she will back away from them. If they continue to approach her, she'll bark or growl. I'm glad that most kids have learned to ask if they can pet your dog before they approach you.

In my yard, adults or people past a certain growth cutoff (maybe 4 feet?) can be outside and Latte runs to them, happy as can be. A child in the yard means running a safe distance away and barking. It's kind of weird.

She seems like such a brave dog most of the time but she is also afraid of lawn mowers (she somehow managed to skid under the fence to get away from the mower noise last week). Children on skate boards at the park made her levitate in her rush to get as far away from that whole scene as possible. She didn't calm down until we were a block away. For some reasons, Harley motors do not seem to faze her.

Java was very fearful until she was about 18 months old but her fear reaction was to drop and roll onto her back, which was a little easier to deal with.

Still I'm encouraged that both dogs walked through the crowds without barking or lunging at people or other dogs (or jumping on cars, which could have turned ugly). They were pretty well behaved all in all.

Yesterday it hit about 95 with lots of humidity happening. There was some serious tongue hanging going on.

For a cooler image, I saw these guys fishing by the dam. Such a contrast between the water above the dam and below. Just wait until I get a pond put in. It's going to look and sound something like that -- only an itty bitty littler and quieter and a boat won't fit in it, except maybe a plastic bathtub boat with little  Lego people in it that Latte can seek out and destroy.