Reading the Signs

When things are hard or keep going wrong at what point do you stop and say probably wasn't meant to be and let it go, and at what point do you show perseverance? If you always push forward no matter what, when do you have time to read the signs, take a minute, and mark it up as a bad idea or bad timing or bad juju? When we took the boat out, for instance, and it wouldn't start (which might have something to do with the little monkeys who like to play in the boat while it sits in the garage.) should we have thrown the towel in then? Or (after jump-starting the boat in the harbor) how about when I was swinging around to pick Tyler and Max up for another run and saw Grey inexplicably paddling alongside the boat? ('But, I wanted to swim') How about when Nick leaned too far over the edge trying to fill his water-streamer gun and toppled in? No? Keep on keeping on? Endure to the end? When we left the radio on while the bilge was filling and the battery wasn't fully charged yet and had to be towed in to the harbor by some little twerp? Certainly then we should have wrapped things up and called it day. But no, the water was turning glassy and so were Tyler's eyes watching it. We jump started again and off we went into the sunset. To be fair, the last runs of the day were beautiful and mishap free. . . so was it a lesson in never giving up or should I have recognized a doomed day at the lake from the the first fruitless turn of the ignition? One way or another, boating always makes for good pictures and we had my 'little' brother, Josh, with us who left to fly back to work in Russia today. (We'll miss you Josh!)




Tyler and Nick



Greybug



Maxer



'Uncle' Josh



Grey and Max



Tyler boarding with Grey



Tyler boarding with Max



Tyler ignoring me while we're towed in. I said ' This reminds me of the first time I went skiing and had to get taken down the hill in a toboggan. I was so embarrassed'. Tyler answered 'You know what's different? No one was pointing a camera at you telling you to smile while it was happening'.



Max and Nick watching the tow boat



Last swim of the day

Five Minutes Later

Literally five minutes after I posted the entry right before this one I got breakfast for the boys. They wanted to eat on the deck which wasn't an issue except of course that Grey was still Gollum (his bowl of Crispix had taken my place as his 'precious'), ie: still in nothing but underwear. I tried (and failed) to convince him to at least put some shorts on. I tried to scare him out of it by reminding him the neighbors would be able to see him. If Max EVER had the notion to run outside in his skivies he would definitely have been held off by that argument - not Grey. "They can only see my shoulders, Mom." Apparently the neighbors can't see through the railing on the deck. I gave in. What's the use of being a kid if you can't run around in your underwear every once in awhile anyway?
I looked out the kitchen window a few minutes later to see Grey in this pose.



And, yes, he was saying "ah-oom, ah-oom".

If it's not Batman. . .

This morning:

Stripping the beds to throw the bedding in the wash. Grey curled up in his anywhere chair - in his underwear.

W- Hey, buddy, why don't you get dressed and I'll get you some breakfast.
G- Then I can't be Gollum.
W- Oh. Yeah. Good Point. Ok then, can you take your stuff to the laundry chute?
G- Yes. . . my precious.

Dear Officer Krupke,

Sometimes if something irritates me (hey, it's a family show, I'll keep the language decent for you)I do the counting to ten thing to see if I can find it funny. OR, if it's really bad and I'm REALLY irate, I try and shelve it for awhile - I figure the less I dwell on it the better. HOWEVER, if ignoring it doesn't work, I have to move to Plan B: complaining as loudly and as often as I can until I'm sick of hearing myself talk. Well, it's been a week since the authorities started their manhunt for me, dangerous criminal that I am, and I'm still a little ticked off.
So, first and foremost I'd like to thank the lovely officers (both of them) that decided to waste my time last Saturday (twice) for NO REASON AT ALL. Secondly, I would like to make the following disclaimer: IF I were doing something illegal, like speeding down the street I live on at three times the speed limit like so many other people do (dang kids. . .;), I would still be bothered at being the one to get caught and get ticketed. I would, however, understand why I was pulled over, whine about it and then be done with it - it would probably fall into the 'issues on the shelf' category for awhile. Lastly, I love you police officers, please don't pull me over again.
Early Saturday morning a sheriff truck pulled onto the old highway behind me. I checked my speed - fine - and continued along. At the next stoplight I signaled, and moved into the turn lane, so did the sheriff. Still, I'm thinking, 'I'm not doing anything wrong, no big deal'. Until we got about a half mile further down the road and the circus lights came on. When I asked the Big Lady-Sheriff why she had pulled me over (as I handed her my license and registration), she told me that my registration was expired.
W - Uh, no it's not. My little sticker's back there. (gesturing madly at the rear license plate.)
BL-S - Well, we've had some problems with counterfeit stickers, and the computer shows yours is expired.

I have to interrupt here for a minute - COUNTERFEIT REGISTRATION STICKERS - REALLY? Come on. Now that's some racket. Hey, I've got a printer, why didn't I think of that? In fact, now that I am thinking of it, I'm pretty sure I DID see a "Car Registration" sticker pack during my last Staples foray. It was right between the "Green Cards" and the "Driver's Licenses" packs.

W - This is the paper it came on. . .
BL-S - Yeah, let me just go check it out for you.
W - O-kay.(yes, please, if you could do that for me, that would be great because I've been worried that even though I stood in line - okay, Tyler stood in line - at the DMV and paid for the registration, and they gave us the little sticker and everything. . .)

So when Big Lady-Sheriff came back she said that the computer really did show that I wasn't registered (Seems like she already told me that.) and that it was a GOOD thing I had my proof of registration with me. Hmm, weird. So now's the point where I think the BL-S should have at the very least said, "sorry for the inconvenience". No such luck. She just told me to hold on to my registration and she was off. Apparently she was late for pulling someone else over for no reason. Busy, busy.

It would have been enough to irritate me that some random sheriff was running my plates just to keep herself awake, but wait, there's more. Remember how I said 'both of them'? No, BL-S didn't have a friend standing by watching. I went to work, had a lovely day, and got pulled over again on the way back. Seriously. Not only did I get pulled over, but this guy would have made a really bad tail-er in a spy movie look like a pro. He came barreling out into the right-hand lane from a little side road about two blocks before I moved into the turn lane (yes, from the left-lane. I'm law-abiding like that.), and followed me into the left turn lane from two cars back in the right-hand lane. (um, citizen's arrest?) The thought, "There is seriously no way!" had just crossed my mind, and maybe my lips, when he flipped on his lights. Now, if Big Lady-Sheriff had stood next to this Skinny Cop, I swear it would have looked a bit like Andre the Giant standing next to 'Wesley' in 'The Princess Bride'. I mean, I'm a bit of a runt, and I could have taken him.

Same reason for being pulled over. (Your license plate is really dirty, the '8' looked like a '9', so I ran it and . . .) My conversation with Skinny Cop was only unique from the one earlier that day (aside from when he started questioning why I had a temporary license - I felt like telling him he was lucky I had a valid one at all or he might have had to call for backup to take me in.) in that he started talking into the radio on his shoulder like there was someone talking back to him (uh, yeah, 10-4, in pursuit, over and out) when I asked why he had run my plates in the first place. It was good thing he pulled me over a block away from Juice -n- Java so I could immediately quench my fury with my long-time friend - okay obsession - an iced Cappuccino flavored Chocolate. (Yum, we will revisit this subject later.)

No, I didn't get a ticket either time - although Skinny Cop did say he would have HAD to if I hadn't had my proof of registration - but I'm still bugged. Why pick on me? Back in the day (ie: college)I played on a girls intramural flag football team. At the first game my brother, Rob, came to he told me that I was scary - that when I was running down the field (ready to score, no doubt. . . heh, heh) I looked like I was ready to kill someone. "Those girls are scared of you, I think I'm scared of you". Later on he told me that I had the same expression on my face when I drive. A.) This same brother also convinced my little brother that my dad speared a wild havelina (that's 'wild pig' to you. . . if I spelled it right) with a walking stick. . . he is not to be trusted in such matters. B.) That's ridiculous - I am sweet and innocent. C.) This is the ONLY reason I can think of for the Police force to come after me: I am a crazy, harried, housewife and I must, at all costs, be stopped.

On horses

A friend of ours asked me yesterday if I thought people and horses could really communicate with each other. My answer - absolutely. I've had some pretty amazing experiences on horseback and just with horses that leave no doubt in my mind that there is an intelligence within them that is totally compatible with us. They're not scary, they're just big. truthfully, they're big scaredy-cats. They have very few ways to make themselves understood, and even fewer ways to protect themselves - they are 'prey' animals, not predators, after all. So, the trick is to try and get inside of their heads and understand why they might react to certain circumstances certain ways. This has to be done quietly if a horse is going to respond to you out of their desire to please you instead of out of fear. Communication really begins during this process. It's a beautiful thing.
The next thing our friend asked was if horses could really be trained as much, as fully, as dogs. Again - no question about it. Obviously we're not talking apples to apples, but the answer is definitely yes, with no limit to the tangents I could take from there.
When I get to the ranch in the mornings the horses are literally waiting to be let in out of their pasture. They know we're coming. They know what they're supposed to do to get their morning grain - so they do it. We throw their grain and supplements in their feeders and then open the gate at the end of a long row of stalls in their open-air barn. From top of the pecking order down to the low-man on the totem pole, they run in and file into their individual stalls. We walk behind them and close their stall doors. Easy as pie - easier, actually.(dough can be tricky, you know.) At the end of the day we open one end of the walk-way and then open their stall doors one at a time. They usually tear out of the barn as fast as they can go and run out to the pasture. I am ALWAYS amused by it. Seriously. It's so cute to watch. I tried to catch it on my little camera - didn't do the best job. Hope you like it!

Can I Have My Phone Call Now?

The only thing I have to say about today is that it began with The Dark Knight, and I'm still thinking about it. . . fifteen hours later. Amazing. A little brutal, but brilliant. Everyone. All of it. Really. I can't begin without babbling forever, so I won't. I'm just leaving it at that. See it - don't bring your kids. (Poor Grey crawled under the cushions of the sofa and cried when I told him it was definitely not one they could see. Poor Batman obsessed little guy - but who could blame him. We all need a little of 'the Batman'.)

I Need a Little . . . Space?

A week or so ago Tyler and I were talking in our room. Tyler was sitting on the window seat looking at the shelves that frame the space, and nonchalantly asked if he could have a shelf. I seriously didn't know what to do. Is this a test? Am I supposed to say "Of course, it's your house, have all the shelves you want"? Because if it was a test, and that was the appropriate answer, I failed. . . miserably. The conversation went more like this:

T- Can I have shelf?
W- What? (You crazy male, of course you can't have a shelf. The shelves are mine.)
T- A shelf. I want one.
W- What shelf? Why do you want a shelf? (Does he really want a shelf?)
T- The same reason you want shelves; to put things on.
W- (Great.) What kind of things?
T- I don't know, things, my things. Why, does it matter?
W- Well, yes, it matters. What kind of things?
T- I told you, my things.
W- Oh, so, tools and things? (Phew.) You have the space in your shop, right, lots of shelves, all yours. (except for the shelves I'll be filling up with my Christmas Totes, and Easter Totes, and Halloween Totes. . .)
T- No, I want a shelf inside.
W- Inside. A shelf other people can see?
T- No, I want an invisible shelf - of course a shelf people can see.
W- Does it have to be open, or can it have a door on it?
T- I said shelf, not cabinet.
W- To put . . . (your gigantic coin jars and old scout camp belt buckles on?) what on again?
T- Forget it.
W- No, really. I want to know. (Phew. He doesn't really want a shelf, he just wanted to see if I would say 'yes'. Shoot. I should have just said 'yes'.)

So, now I feel like an enormous brat - for good reason, I understand. But what is it about guys / men / whatever that makes them say "Whatever you want, it's your thing," while you're planning something, and then suddenly blurt out that they want their identity to be seen too? (I would like a shelf, please.) Is it a way of marking their territory - not making a decision when it's time for decisions to be made, but coming in afterwards and saying - "that choice you made there, right there, that one. . . don't like it, let's change it."? If Tyler happens to come into the room right after I've made the bed, he REVELS in taking a flying leap right onto the middle of it with a huge grin on his face and a making a slightly sadistic snicker. I'm thinking this is all tied together - some form of unconscious tree-marking behavior. . . Or maybe a shelf is just a shelf.

All Work and No Play

So I kind of forgot that although we had some of our big stuff in the house before we moved in, we still had the real moving in to do. The unpacking. The sorting. The "where do you want this?, where do you want that?" -ing. I'm swamped with it. I don't think I want anything else I haven't already unpacked. The boxes can have it. . . until I realize I haven't seen the garlic press, the photo albums, or my copy of Paradise Lost. BUT, I'm done putting off doing the things I want to do just so I can unpack everything right this second. It may take me a year to move in, but I'm going to blog while I do it.

And here I go:

Yesterday was one of those days at "work". It started off with an early morning ride, which is a great time to run into some of my favorite reasons for "working" where I do.

(Yikes, sorry about that glare - sun, you know.)
We've been running into the herds of cow elk but the babies just started showing up! With such a wet spring the mountain is green and lush so they're all big and healthy.



This one is so little it still has its' spots. (They don't last long.) All the other babies we've seen in the last few days have already lost theirs.


After our first ride we still had enough time for a second shorter ride. We figured we had about an hour and a half as we headed off. We left the ranch to ride on forest service land for a little bit and ran into a parking lot full of emergency vehicles - Sherriff trucks, ambulances, and search and rescue trucks. We thought maybe the trail we were going to head up might be closed because of an accident, but none of the hikers standing at the bottom knew, so we asked one of the men that looked like he might be in the know. He apparently misunderstood my question of "Can we still ride up the trail?", because the next thing we knew we were tying big packs of rope, dry-suits, and who-knows-what-else onto the backs of our saddles and heading up a different trail. Each of the packs must have weighed at least 30-40 pounds. One of them was closer to 60 - much easier for a horse to carry than a person. So we sped up a very non-horse friendly trail to bring the supplies to the emergency crews already at a waterfall where a girl had fallen. We didn't stay to watch since there wasn't a lot of room at the base of the falls. Part way down a helicopter passed us and hovered quite close to the falls - glad we weren't there for that - horses and helicopters . . . not necessarily a good mix. At the bottom of the trail another heli was waiting so we tried to snap some pictures in front of it. (I know, I'm a huge nerd, I can't help it)
Here's Jody. Please note the very official looking man running up behind her to tell us the heli was about to take off and we needed to move. "They really stir things up, you know, ladies." (Yeah, yeah, yeah, but please don't call us ladies - might as well just have called us ma'am - the kiss of death.) Anyway, we're Search and Rescue now, back off. Don't we at least get a pat on the back, or a sherriff sticker? Sheesh. What, are you busy rescuing someone or something?



So, here are Holly and I a little further away. Weird, the helicopter is still there. Really, it is, you just can't get past my Elvis T and my big-mom hair to see it.




And again, where you can actually see the helicopter.



Anyway, our second ride took a bit longer than we had anticipated, but it was definitely a bit more exciting too.
P.S. The girl that fell is doing fine now, in case you were wondering.