Enjoy.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Lola's Church Pictures Part 1
Lola likes to draw in church. Left unchecked, she will draw all over the comment cards and other papers left in the pews. I am fairly certain that these items are not left there for children to draw on, but Lola seems to think otherwise. Lately I have been letting her draw in the little notebook I keep in my purse. Here is the first sample of her artwork that I will post for your viewing enjoyment. This drawing is entitled, "Sad Kitty in the Rain"
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
On Wings of Horses
This blog, started as a simple way to keep in touch with friends and family scattered across the world, has become so much more to me. I realize now that it has become much more than just a record of our family life, but an account of how I myself live that life, with all its ups and downs. Most entries are definitely about the kids, but here and there I have sprinkled in a few entries solely about my own thoughts and feelings. This is going to be one of those entries.
To my mare,
When I met you I had been searching for a fairytale ideal. I wanted a tall flashy steed, black and white with flowing mane and tail, and the grace and style of a Lipizzaner stallion. Instead, I saw you, a small, round, brown mare, only four years old, with a short black mane, and a lazy disposition. Instantly I knew you were the one.
We bonded fast over the love of long rides in the evening, and I soon realized that your lazy approach to life disappeared at the first glimpse of a coyote or a deer in the field. We would run faster than I could ever imagine your short legs could move, chasing our target through dusty stubble until I would whisper "whoa girl" and sit back in the saddle, and you would slide to a halt, blowing and snorting final warnings to the poor creature we had been pursuing.
I dressed you in silly blankets and coverings to keep your coat smooth and your mane and tail nice for shows. You participated willingly, and I could see you roll your eyes at the competition, knowing we would win. Whether we won or lost, I know we both had fun, jumping, reining, trail riding, or pretending that we could do dressage.
You were my best friend, my confidant. I could tell you anything, and you would look at me with those large brown eyes and I know you understood in your own way. We spent so many hours together that we were a true team, you and I. A dream come true. And then I left you, and went away to pursue other dreams. You were bored, and I had no time to visit. There was no more galloping through the fields, kicking up dust and scaring the wildlife.
I noticed that your feet seemed sore one day. You were fifteen. The vet diagnosed navicular disease, and I tried medications, but you hated them. You would laugh with your eyes as I tried again and again to force the paste in your mouth, ending up with most of it in my hair. I gave up, and decided to let you be. After all, I was still in school, and couldn't ride you anyway. I retired you to pasture with some other horses, and there you remained for years.
By the time I had reached my career goals, you were nearly 20, and I was still busy. Your feet seemed to bother you more, and I took you to see the specialists. You gave them a run for their money! They told me you were "difficult" and I just smiled and said "she's an old stubborn lady, what can I say?" More problems were diagnosed, and I chose to ignore them.
More years have passed, and you are twenty-four. I have watched your joints swell and I haven't seen you run in over a year. I watch you try to keep up with the herd as they gallop across the pasture. You whinny at them, imploring them to wait, but they are youngsters, and you are getting old. I watch you trot after them, ears back in irritation, tail swishing, until you finally slow to a walk, and then stop, dropping your head with a great breath. A sigh? You are too sore for me to climb up on your back. Our riding days are over.
Last month I saw you lying down a lot more than usual. Last week you stayed in the same spot by the corner of the barn all day long. The black pony kept you company for awhile, but eventually he moved on to chase the huns by the creek. I finally walked out to look at your legs. How did this happen? How did you get so old so fast? Your eyes lit up when you saw me, just like they always do. I ruffled your forelock, and realized with a great weight that you are not long for this earth. You hurt, and I can see it in your eyes, your posture, and the way you watch the other horses as they run.
Today the tractor came. You watched it with mild interest as it dug a great hole on the hill. I chose a spot in the grass field, near the pond, where you could watch the sun set over the wheat fields. The snowflakes fell, covering the tracks as the tractor rumbled away, its job done. The sun came out and you seemed to feel better, a good day.
I couldn't let you go today. You don't know it, but you are more than just a horse. You are a connection to a lifetime that is forever gone. When I look at you, I can fade into memories of warm summer evenings, running through the fields, racing cars as they drove on the confines of the black road. Your life has spanned so many changes in my own, and you are the steady thread that runs through those changes, a constant that could always be counted on to never change.
Unfortunately change is inevitable to all, and now your body has changed, slowing crippling you, and there is nothing that can stop the slow aging process. I checked on you tonight, and you were standing there, in your spot, looking out at the fields. I'll never know what goes on behind those soft brown eyes, but I like to think that you are remembering happy days.
I'm morbidly comforted by the hole the tractor left us today, knowing that soon we will part, but that it can be on our terms, with no "scheduling". Sometime soon, you will tell me with those eyes when you have had enough, and I will let you go. I will keep a watchful eye on you, and I pray that we can make it through the chill of this one last winter, so that you can enjoy one more warm summer.
I promise I will be there when it happens, to help you slip from this world to the next. I will stay until the life has faded from those tired brown eyes. And when you are gone, I will still visit you in that quiet spot on the hill, and remember how much I loved you.
To my mare,
When I met you I had been searching for a fairytale ideal. I wanted a tall flashy steed, black and white with flowing mane and tail, and the grace and style of a Lipizzaner stallion. Instead, I saw you, a small, round, brown mare, only four years old, with a short black mane, and a lazy disposition. Instantly I knew you were the one.
We bonded fast over the love of long rides in the evening, and I soon realized that your lazy approach to life disappeared at the first glimpse of a coyote or a deer in the field. We would run faster than I could ever imagine your short legs could move, chasing our target through dusty stubble until I would whisper "whoa girl" and sit back in the saddle, and you would slide to a halt, blowing and snorting final warnings to the poor creature we had been pursuing.
I dressed you in silly blankets and coverings to keep your coat smooth and your mane and tail nice for shows. You participated willingly, and I could see you roll your eyes at the competition, knowing we would win. Whether we won or lost, I know we both had fun, jumping, reining, trail riding, or pretending that we could do dressage.
You were my best friend, my confidant. I could tell you anything, and you would look at me with those large brown eyes and I know you understood in your own way. We spent so many hours together that we were a true team, you and I. A dream come true. And then I left you, and went away to pursue other dreams. You were bored, and I had no time to visit. There was no more galloping through the fields, kicking up dust and scaring the wildlife.
I noticed that your feet seemed sore one day. You were fifteen. The vet diagnosed navicular disease, and I tried medications, but you hated them. You would laugh with your eyes as I tried again and again to force the paste in your mouth, ending up with most of it in my hair. I gave up, and decided to let you be. After all, I was still in school, and couldn't ride you anyway. I retired you to pasture with some other horses, and there you remained for years.
By the time I had reached my career goals, you were nearly 20, and I was still busy. Your feet seemed to bother you more, and I took you to see the specialists. You gave them a run for their money! They told me you were "difficult" and I just smiled and said "she's an old stubborn lady, what can I say?" More problems were diagnosed, and I chose to ignore them.
More years have passed, and you are twenty-four. I have watched your joints swell and I haven't seen you run in over a year. I watch you try to keep up with the herd as they gallop across the pasture. You whinny at them, imploring them to wait, but they are youngsters, and you are getting old. I watch you trot after them, ears back in irritation, tail swishing, until you finally slow to a walk, and then stop, dropping your head with a great breath. A sigh? You are too sore for me to climb up on your back. Our riding days are over.
Last month I saw you lying down a lot more than usual. Last week you stayed in the same spot by the corner of the barn all day long. The black pony kept you company for awhile, but eventually he moved on to chase the huns by the creek. I finally walked out to look at your legs. How did this happen? How did you get so old so fast? Your eyes lit up when you saw me, just like they always do. I ruffled your forelock, and realized with a great weight that you are not long for this earth. You hurt, and I can see it in your eyes, your posture, and the way you watch the other horses as they run.
Today the tractor came. You watched it with mild interest as it dug a great hole on the hill. I chose a spot in the grass field, near the pond, where you could watch the sun set over the wheat fields. The snowflakes fell, covering the tracks as the tractor rumbled away, its job done. The sun came out and you seemed to feel better, a good day.
I couldn't let you go today. You don't know it, but you are more than just a horse. You are a connection to a lifetime that is forever gone. When I look at you, I can fade into memories of warm summer evenings, running through the fields, racing cars as they drove on the confines of the black road. Your life has spanned so many changes in my own, and you are the steady thread that runs through those changes, a constant that could always be counted on to never change.
Unfortunately change is inevitable to all, and now your body has changed, slowing crippling you, and there is nothing that can stop the slow aging process. I checked on you tonight, and you were standing there, in your spot, looking out at the fields. I'll never know what goes on behind those soft brown eyes, but I like to think that you are remembering happy days.
I'm morbidly comforted by the hole the tractor left us today, knowing that soon we will part, but that it can be on our terms, with no "scheduling". Sometime soon, you will tell me with those eyes when you have had enough, and I will let you go. I will keep a watchful eye on you, and I pray that we can make it through the chill of this one last winter, so that you can enjoy one more warm summer.
I promise I will be there when it happens, to help you slip from this world to the next. I will stay until the life has faded from those tired brown eyes. And when you are gone, I will still visit you in that quiet spot on the hill, and remember how much I loved you.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Christmas 2010
Christmas 2010 was wonderful. So wonderful that I can't even think of a witty or sarcastic title for this blog entry. The only bad thing about it was how fast the holidays crept up on me. I felt rushed, not entirely ready for the actual day to arrive, but when it did, I wondered what I had been stressing out about. Christmas was perfect despite a few of our cards sure to not arrive in their recipients mailboxes until after New Years, despite the mess in the house, and even despite me being on call for the clinic all weekend.
We got our tree the day after Thanksgiving, at the local feed store. The boy scouts were selling them for 10 bucks. It was a little bit of a Charlie Brown tree, but it sure looked good with all of our mismatched mish-mass of ornaments on its branches! Our ornament collection is a box full of memories. The ornaments, mostly mine, were given to me by my parents or friends or relatives as I grew up, and then came with me when I started my own family. The newest ornaments on the tree belong to the kids, and will eventually follow them to their households for their family Christmas trees. The kids love hearing stories about each ornament when we hang them up!
Of course Santa came to visit Palouse. Unfortunately, I did not get a good picture, because both kids were too busy telling Santa what they wanted for Christmas to turn around and smile at me. I am now 50% on good Santa pictures. Maybe next year. We did enjoy our wagon ride though!
The Christmas program at church was entertaining, as always. The big kids did an awesome job singing their songs, and the little kids...well...they did a great job putting on a show!
Christmas Eve is one of my favorite nights of the year. I love the Christmas Eve service at the church. All the kiddos get to come in their PJ's. Lola especially enjoyed getting to hold her own candle for Silent Night this year. Wil and I were slightly worried about the church's fire policy, but she did ok. After the service, we went home to put out cookies and milk for Santa, and of course carrots for Rudolph. I thought that last year was Lola's final Christmas believing in Santa Claus, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of him this year. Maybe she was just playing make believe, and maybe not, but it was fun to watch the kids put out those cookies, and whisper to each other about how Santa would make it down our chimney without burning his behind. Both kids went to sleep fairly easily that night, which was awesome. About 11 pm, I couldn't find Ivy to put her in her kennel. I found her downstairs, keeping watch for Santa with Lola.
Christmas morning brought stockings full of fun, and gifts under the tree. Soon the house was a complete disaster, and Wil and I were cursing the toy manufacturers that insist on locking up the toy cars and horses like Fort Knox. Seriously, why would they feel the need to make you go get a freakin' screwdriver to release a toy airplane from it's cardboard prison? And the twisty wires? Come on people, do you need to wind them six thousand times around Barbie's wrists? And what is with sewing the cardboard and wire device to Barbie's actual hair? Honestly, the people who designed those next to impossible toy trapping cuss inducing contraptions must have never had to listen to a toddler repeating "Where's my airplane? Can I have my airplane? I need my airplane" over and over while sustaining strangulating wire injuries to their fingers trying to remove said airplane.
We have since settled down, gotten most of the Christmas decorations put away, and are back to the usual routine. Here are the kids and the dogs enjoying a leftover box.
Anyway, aside from a few minor temper tantrums (mostly mine) the holidays were great. Thank you all our friends and family for the cards, gifts, parties, and good times. We appreciate you all, and wish you all a very happy 2011!
Oh, and an update on Rio, here he is at horsey boot camp, learning to be a real horse! He will come home next month. Yeah!
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