Every Puppy's Dream

Horse/Mind Harmony

This weekend I went out to the barn, and as usual, it was well worth the trip out there. Every time I go, I realize I forgot how good it is for me. Definitely need to go more often.

The ride went pretty well from the start. I always find that if you have harmony in mind from the very beginning, it tends to go quite well. The very beginning - leading him out and ensuring he is listening, on to grooming while he stands quietly, and then tacking up patiently and firmly. Cinch the girth up smoothly, get the bridle on in clean sweep (albeit this is impossible with some horses at first), then lead him out into the morning.

If you approach it this way, you've already got a good rapport going once you get into the arena. Many horses have a habit of trying to walk away while mounting (including dear ol' Samson), but we already had an understanding. Then once I am in the saddle, we started walking and focusing on rhythm.

Sing a song in your head, and work your way around the arena with him - steady, quiet and listening. Adjust just a little, and his stride will match your song. Before you know it you're not even trying, and you and the horse are easily one.

Then on to more challenging exercises, but the work flows for both horse and rider. With gradually smaller efforts you begin to make more perfect circles, release and bend, and engage the hind end.

While you are in this meditative state, your problems are solved one chip at a time in your subconscious. Each time you rise to his trot, your mind will ratchet to a fuller understanding of how to deal with a difficult situation. Cantering the center line will reassure that your feet are falling onto the right path in life. As you trot energetically and bend around a circle, you'll remember that life is cyclical. And as your ride comes to a close, the idea that life is pretty good slips into your consciousness.

At the end, I gave Samson a long rein, dropped my stirrups and let my legs hang. As horse and rider we cooled down - his stride was loose and easy, and my hands rested on his withers. The song of the birds singing, the morning light and the dew on the grass were all enjoyed through profound mental clarity as we walked around the arena.

The rest of the morning, I spent a great deal of time with Samson - rubbing him down, hosing him off and letting him graze as he dried in the sun. It was the least I could do after what he had given me. Then back to his pasture with an appreciative pat, and on with our lives we go.

Owen Boy

Well, I have finally decided on a name for "Fiona": Owen. I think it suits him, and Oliver and Owen has a nice ring to it.

Little Owen. Funny how your pre-conceived notion affects your perception of something. I was so convinced of his femininity - the soft fur, the high-pitched kitten meow, and the beautiful blue eyes. My little girl who trotted around with a feminine swing.


Now, I see the masculinity. The puffier cheeks, the jaunty strut, the confident stare.

Or are these just general cat qualities??

Perception skews. If you think its a girl, those girly qualities will come out, and vice-versa.

I could go forever calling him Fiona, my little girl, and he wouldn't know the difference. But I would.

Isn't that funny, a name and sex for the benefit of the human, not the cat. What would happen if we called our own boys girls? I hate to think. Just read Middlesex and you'll see what I mean (but at least that was an honest mistake).

I indulged in the thought of her being a hermaphrodite, actually, for a moment. Trying to search for any reason to hang on to my image of her. Hehehe. The letting go happened gradually.

Owen is nice, and my mind has settled on a male image. But he'll never know the difference. He'll just go on eating paper and chasing Oliver's tail as always.

Keep on the Sunny Side

Today at work I fetched my CDs and popped in my favorite soundtrack - O Brother Where Art Thou. Great movie, too.

The last song on the CD is "Keep on the Sunny Side". It was definitely what I needed to hear, given the events of the past week.

Here's an excerpt:

There's a dark & a troubled side of life
There's a bright, there's a sunny side, too
Tho' we meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view

This week was rough, with an equally rough weekend preceeding it.

As though mirroring my mental state, today the weather forecasted dark clouds, and it rained all day. But then the sky cleared. Looking out the window, everything looked so clean and clear.

The sun even came out - with the still-wet trees and grass, everything looked beautiful.

More excerpt:

The storm and its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear;
Clouds and storms will, in time, pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

Just as the sky clears, so will my mind.

Remember that the next time the darkness seems as though it will never go away. It is temporary, and always there is a sunny side.

Once it emerges, it is even more beautiful than before.

Central Market

Oh man. I just had the most wonderful experience. Something that only happens once every couple of months (because it's so flipping expensive).

I just went to HEB Central Market. For all of you non-Texans, Central Market is the greatest thing since sliced whole wheat bread. Anything and everything you could possibly think of is there, and the best of the best: exotic and domestic produce, messes of seafood, wines galore, fresh-cut flowers to satisfy the female heart's content, delicious cheeses, and much much more.

When you first walk in, you are greeted with a (strategic) maze of fresh produce. This is where half of my basket is filled, and most of my temptations. The colors are overwhelming, and the decision of what new fruits and vegetables to try today is a tough one. Shall it be purple wax beans? Gooseberries?

Then a meander past the awesome meat market (after picking up some ground bison), and there you are - a sommelier's dream. I'm not exactly "classy" enough (read: I don't have enough money) to get too much into wine, but I do love a good glass now and again. Sometimes they have free samples! Then on to the bulk foods, dairy (with quite a yogurt selection - I would know, I'm a yogurt sommelier!), bakery, and frozen foods.

Of course, the next part is best - the cheeeeeese! Ohhhh...the cheese. I can never choose, and resent the decision. Of course, since I am (still) hopelessly addicted to blue cheese, I've got a pick up a healthy chunk of that. Then....?? I may as well close my eyes, spin around, and see where my pointer ends up. Usually a nice goat cheese (the non-goat dropping variety), sometimes something new, and sometimes just plain ol' cheddar (from the world's largest block of it, of course).

Central Market is also the only grocery store where you are allowed to go on an empty stomach. They've got all major courses covered in samples. Veggies, meats, salsas, cheeses, and sweets. In fact, I would advise to go right before dinner.

This evening I got home from my adventure and cooked up a nice soup with ground bison, fresh produce, and some interesting feta cheese. A little bit of everything, and oh my a whole lot of yum!

Of course, my wallet is always a bit deflated after a trip to this place, but for the next week, I'll be eatin' feta and drinkin' OJ like a queen!

Chaos

Chaos. Whew. It can be eye-crossing at times.

Today work was awesome, I got so much done, and managed all the chaos associated with a busy day. I was borderline sprinting down the halls all the way until the last minute.

Days like today I feel great about being able to do my job. Being the most productive possible: juggling calls, emails and requests, keeping the temp busy, and getting things out the door. Reason to pat myself on the back. And I did, yes, because I worked my ass off today.




But damn. I walked out the door, got in my car, and put on some tunes. I picked something upbeat and energetic, but after a moment or two I was thinking I should have opted for silence. I even tried to return my mom's call from earlier in the day, and barely comprehended a word she said.

Multi-tasking, or, managing chaos, is pretty intense. My brain at the end of a day full of this is devoid of activity, and I struggle with the simplest analytical tasks.

This is fine, once in a while. There was a time, though, when I was determined to "work hard" and just about kill myself every day. Every time I got home from work, the only thing I wanted to do was nothing. And nothing was my life. Just work and home.

And now? Screw that crap, I want a life. I'll work hard, but with balance. No more staying late all the time, no more working myself into exhaustion. Not to say I won't do it if it is necessary, but working too much for the sake of working too much I will never do again.

Whew. Now its off to a warm bath, and some serious relaxaton. And perspective.

Dead Poets Society

As of a few minutes ago, I watched Dead Poets Society for the first time. All I can say is, damn, why didn't I watch this movie sooner. What an awesome film, which so effectively comments on the flaws of society and what it expects from us all.

In high school I remember reading Whitman and Thoreau: two poets whose work, among others, inspired the characters in this film, and a 17-year-old me. Ever since I was old enough to be aware of society, I have felt as though it is flawed. Both in what it emphasizes as important, and in how our desire for acceptance drives us to fulfill these empty and lonely pursuits. Reading the work of these two poets made me feel as though I was not alone in my thinking, and justified in rebelling against it.

Over the years, I have come to accept societal pressure as necessary, and not always evil. But there are times when I feel I give in to that pressure too much, and thus lose myself. It is during these times that I forget what it is that truly makes me happy.

Tonight, though, this movie reinforced my passion for living life freely and beyond what others expect. To be aware of the pressure to conform, rise above it, and follow what makes my heart sing despite those influences on the outside.

I will seize the day, and make my life extraordinary. And with that I will live life on my own terms.

To be continued...

Decisions, Decisions

Today was one of those "heavy" days, when you feel like you've got a lot of decisions to make. So much so that even the little ones seem like a big deal.

Standing in front of the closet with 4 minutes to go and no clue what to wear. Obsessing all day about whether to go to Canyon Lake for the weekend. Sitting frozen at my desk as the engine within my brain sputters and finally ceases trying to decide what to do. Wondering - should I go downstairs and get some ice cream? Should I go out to the barn tomorrow? Do I need to stay at home and be "responsible"? What should I do???

Eh. Yeah, sure, I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I needed some perspective, and I got it on the way home from work (thankfully).

It's pretty easy to view decisions as always being black and white. The right decision, and the wrong decision. This is what we (maybe just me?) are brought up to believe. Sort of along the lines of being a good person, or a bad person. No shades of gray.

So many decisions are just that - a decision, and a matter of personal preference. What's important to you? What sort of mood are you in? Do you want to have an adventure today??

You know, I'm feeling pretty mellow today, so I'll wear my favorite blue shirt. Why, I do think I'll just go to Canyon Lake this weekend - I feel like going to play! Ice cream! Yeahhh! Waistline be defied! I don't feel like going to the barn, so no, I should not go. What? Responsible?? This weekend?? Ha!

And there you go. Decisions made, and no worse for wear. Ahhhaha!

Fiona Girl?

This evening I got home, sprawled on the couch and passively watched the cats do their cat thing. Little Fiona was doing as all well-groomed kitties do: she was cleaning her fur and polishing her refined image. But while she was doing it, I noticed...something.

Suspicious, I called my mom up and asked her how to sex a cat. She said it was hard to tell, but I reported to her what I had witnessed, and she started laughing.

Yep. Turns out dear, sweet Fiona Girl is a Fiona Boy!!!

I can't deny I'm a little disappointed, because Fiona Girl was fun to say. Not only that, but I was so used to thinking she was a pretty girl. Now...a pretty boy. Not as great a social connotation. (But cats are always above that, eh?)

That's probably why "she" likes beer.



Saint Arnold's - at least he has good taste.

Now I've got to come up with a new name for him. Any suggestions?