Where the Lost Boys Meet

I had a solid breakthrough this week. Between my full time career, the new puppy, cleaning the house that the new puppy destroys 1-7 times a day, coaching 4H, exercising a Friesian 3 times a week, contributing to three weekly blogs (or at least trying to), continuing to renovate the house, commuting 3 hours a day, and trying to squeeze in time to train for a 5K, I just have not been enjoying ANY of it. I knew it was bad when last Saturday I was dreading the barn. That, my friends, is a bad bad sign.

I have too much on my plate. I know that. I have ambition to cut back. But I'm a procrastinator so I know that will probably take awhile to get around to cutting back. And in the meantime, I had to make peace with this as my life, because heaven knows it's not the last time that I will be in this place, if not worse. 

It was a terrible time to get a puppy. I see that now. I wish I could have AT LEAST finished reinstalling the newly painted cupboard doors of the kitchen before we got a puppy. But we didn't. We went and looked at a field of sad dirty puppies, and our puppy was right there in the middle of them. We never had a single question once we saw him, and before we'd even signed the check, I was already a damn dog owner. A damn dog owner with no cupboard doors. 

But in between puppy accidents and missing leashes and yapping and not sleeping, there's been these genuinely cool moments. I take him out when I wake up around 5:45 to do his business, and the moon has been so bright that I can play with my hilarious wierdo puppy on our lawn before I go to work. He bounces around me like a tether ball, chews on my rainboots, and then runs as fast as he can until he trips on his own paws and falls over. It's like happy crack for my day. 

That pattern has somewhat repeated at the barn. It's not very convenient, and it has not been smooth and easy. But in between the extra hours at the barn and packing my horse bag at 6am and feeling like I have to learn how to ride ALL OVER AGAIN to ride this horse, I have incredible highs when everything clicks and I am falling into perfect rhythm with a huge powerful animal. I have been learning, I have been growing, and I see a marked improvement in my abilities since I started. Yes, this is vital to my equestrian ambition, but YOU GUYS, it was ridiculously fun. Duh. I forgot that I freaking love doing this for a second, and then I remembered. And life was better. 

I have given up spare time for the things I love most, and the payback is not always worth it. But the "aha moment" was that when it is worth it, I need to shut up and enjoy it. No, swim in it. bask in it. Fill that canteen up for the other days and feel it deep down and inject it into by bones. It's true at my job, at the barn, with the dog, with the God, with the man, and on the writing webs.  Go for the good feelings, and don't gloss over it when they come. 

That's good stuff right there, y'all.

Fun at Work. 

 Fun with Friends.

Fun while commuting. Yes, even while commuting. 



Glass Menagerie

I both pity and envy Laura Wingfield at times, depending on exactly how much dirt is under my nails and how much it's bothering me. Her delicate, quiet, isolated life filled with still glass figures is safer, certainly. unsmelly, most definitely. And I imagine if the glass animals took it upon themselves to make "messes", they would be adorable little glass plopplets which would be utterly charming to clean up.

I, on the other hand, have cleaned up poop from this:

And also from this:

in the past 24 hours. 

I am hardly complaining. I'm just making a blind comparison. In fact, 1 out of 1 Lorraines agree that horse poop and Brand New Puppy poop are highly preferable to no poop at all, because then you'd have no horse and no Brand New Puppy.

Fortunately, this:

and, after a couple years of trial and error, this:

are entirely house-trained.   

Brand New Puppy does not have a name yet, and desperately needs a bath and one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs round his neck. I promise, when both have come to pass, you'll hear it first at Lorraine-in-Spain.



A String of Good Luck

Tomorrow, I'm going to someone's barn in Pleasant Grove to ride this:

His regular rider has a concussion, (not from him) and she needs someone to exercise him regularly until she is ready again. I'm very sorry for her, and very excited to step in and help out.

Riding a horse like this is something that I have aspired to for a long time. I've ridden thoroughbreds, quarter horses, arabians, mustangs, halflingers, belgians, and once I briefly rode an andalusian stallion. That was great.

But this- a well schooled dressage master, a friesian, a stallion, and one who according to his owner is affectionate and intelligent beyond measure- this is something I have been slowly building towards through years of lessons, leasing, training, borrowing, and begging.

I've been riding Posie all summer and got to use her in a film project (she was GREAT!), I've been coaching 4H which is such a ball, I'm writing my silly little articles for HorseNation every week and loving the interaction with my readers, and now I have the chance to ride a truly magnificent animal for someone who seems to be the nicest woman in the world.

Suddenly, not having a horse of my own isn't torture, but an opportunity to grow in ways I never fathomed. If I had just owned my own horse all these years, I wouldn't have been seeking new outlets and opportunities. I would have been doing my own thing and staying in my own bubble. Instead I've gone to clinics of all kinds, reached out to people outside my interests, I've written about some amazing people, and I have repeatedly been gifted with trust and compassion by horse owners of every sort all around me.

I am humbled. Incredibly grateful. And so very excited about the next few months.