Poco Hijack

After I'd had Frosty a couple years, the family that sold her to me wanted her back. They wanted to trade me a nice young 3 year old gelding Registered Quarter Horse. Which was a huge decision. So big that I burst into tears when I considered it.

Trading Frosty in seemed like something a traitor would do. I'm from the pets for life school of life. But the good thing was she was going back to a loving fam. And ooh that hunky sorrel with the blaze of white a a couple white socks. I couldn't pass it up.

So we got Jack, and my folks invested in a month of training for him at Les Walker's in Bondurant. Les taught Jack a few things about gait and put him on a tie down. He had a tenancy to rear up. Jack had a great temperament, but he was after all just a baby in horse years. He had energy, and was nothing like Frosty, a good 'ol gal.

Once I got Jack back from the trainer, I had lots of work to do. And I had a brand new barn to do it in. A group of us horsey types invested in a horse condominium on Guttenfelder property. It was a steel building with 6 stalls with outdoor runs and 5 without. Jack had a nice middle one with a run and an electric heated waterer. The best thing was the nice indoor arena with several inches of sand to work out on. There was a nice tack room and a hayloft above the stall area for nice small bales of alfalfa. We kept a manure spreader out back for cleaning out stalls.

I had Jack throughout high school, and he turned out to be a wonderful guy - calm but not boring. He let me slide off his butt, and on hot days I could feed him ice cubes. The outdoor arena at "the barn" as we called the facility was surrounded by fence and we could turn horses out to graze. Sometimes I liked to lay on his back as he grazed - on my stomach with my head on his back. One time when I was in this position, he was startled and began to canter - and when I sat up I was pointing backwards and was in no position to control a 1500 pound horse! I ended up rolling off him onto the ground.

Sal's dad Wayne was a good mentor for me and helped me arrange for shoeing and worming my horses. He helped me figure out what to feed them. Wayne had a nice horse trailer with a changing room on the front. He used it to haul Sal and me to horse shows in southwest Iowa, as well as to the Cass County Fair. Yep I was a 4-Her, forced into baking and doing artsy things in order to show my horse. Our group was named "The Glad Girls of Grove", for Grove Township in Cass County. Hell, at least I wasn't a "Gay Grant Gal".

I was not the most successful horse shower. Jack, though a good horse with good confirmation, was not a typical winner with a nice rocking horse gait. Nope he had a very rough (think Jackhammer) trot and a fast canter that caused me to have to pass people when showing - not a good thing in judge's eyes. Sally's horse Vissy was much more successful, and Jennifer ended up buying an expensive shower later, after her starter horse Drifter.

But I loved it! Hanging out with horse peeps in places like Anita and Audubon. Who could regret meeting people like the Campbell Soup Twins - twin girls from Exira who looked just like that little nerd that used to be on the soup commercials - reddish hair with very short nerdy bangs. And the Souths. Some people were in it for the speed - pole and barrel racing. Sometimes I'd participate in the egg race, fun stuff like that. Horse shows always had the best sloppy joes.

I sold Jack to a local family when I went to college. It was tough, but had to be done, since I wouldn't be around to take care of him. Later he was sold to some family friends and he lived at their farm. I took Paul to meet him once. When Jack was 16, he escaped from his fence and was hit on the highway and killed. So long old friend.

Alfalfa

Me in the only size 2 pants I ever wore with Frosty. That's Wayne in the background.

I walked for over an hour this morning. It was a beautiful day, and towards the end of my route, trotting down Cottonwood I smelled it. Fresh mown alfalfa. Nothing like it! It took me back to my days of owning a horse.

After my wonderful summer at Camp Cheley in Estes Park, CO, my parents gave me a horse for my birthday - a dream come true! I was so fortunate that my buddy Sal had parents (mainly her Dad Wayne) who "did" horses. He agreed to help look for a horse that would be right for a novice like me.

Her name was Frosty, and she was a 10 year old grey mostly quarter horse mare. We bought her from a family in Yale, Iowa. Wayne pulled his trailer up to get her and I rode along, ready to explode the whole way. My own horse!

Back then we all kept our horses (since we lived in town, and my dad was in ladies underwear) at the old Cass County Fairgrounds right off highway 6. To get there you had to take the gravel road right near a small filling station, and at the curve was a building Candace's Dad kept his Frito Lay stock. I'd see him there often, as I went to feed Frosty each evening.

In the mornings I was lucky that a retired guy named Dean agreed to feed Frosty and the Rodgers' horses. Frosty's stall had a small outdoor run, so she could get fresh air during good weather. There was also a ring we could exercise them in and a small field we could turn the horses out in to graze. It was pretty nice!

I learned a lot from Frosty, who could be a grumpy old bitch. Hmmm maybe that's where I got it! She was steady as a rock (and trotted like a jack hammer...). She had a lumpy neck and wasn't a real showy gal. Upon her back I could ride along the beautiful Iowa countryside - where Atlantic Plaza and HyVee are now, down the dirt lane along the Nishna Botna River. Good therapy for a teen girl not happy about growing up.

I also learned a great deal hanging out at the "Barn". There was a guy named Tony who kept horses in a different building who had a beagle who had pups. The dog was nervous about letting a stranger up close to the puppies, so I learned to first sit and just get her used to my presence. As the days went on I crept closer to the cute balls 'o fur, and after a couple weeks I was allowed to touch them.

We also had a barn tomcat I called "Bumps" as his head was truly lumpy, and he had half an ear torn off. Other feral cats lived in the area. I had a great time exploring the old barns - one time Sal and I forced our way into what had been the Fair Office. It contained old calendars and fair info from a much earlier era. I dug an old liquor bottle out of the dirt floor in our barn. And I was lucky that my saddle wasn't stolen when the others were taken from our tack room. Mine had been at the saddle shop being repaired.

I learned how much personality each horse has, and how they make such friendships with each other. I had Frosty a couple years and her former family contacted us - they wanted her back! But they had a nice 3 year old gelding they thought I might like. I burst into tears at the thought of losing Frosty, but I sure wanted a new challenge, a true registered quarter horse. More about Jack next...

OFH

I walked downtown to breakfast this a.m. Started at 5:30 a.m. while it was quite dark out on the west edge of town on Adams Street. I wore my hat light so cars could see my little self on the dark road. I must have confused one driver who clicked his/her brights at me.

I met my homegirls - D, Deb, Patti, Pat, Bobbie, Nan and Lucy. It was just like the olden days when I was home everyday, except my current lack of a uterus and 1 ovary. Plus a few of the gals are pounds lighter thanks to their participation in Nan's Weight Watchers group. Less of 'em to love!

Conversation at S&K Cafe was lively as usual. In fact at one point, when I referenced that someone was an OFH (Old F'in Hag - as a young girl called me after the Iowa/ISU football game 2 years ago - ISU won!!). The guys at the table next to us overhead the term and began to razz us. It was a funny homey moment. It's stuff like that I would miss greatly if we were to move away. Just the little stuff, though as you know, I don't take my friendships lightly.

Today I'm off to Ottumwa to represent DNR at the grand opening of a household hazardous waste facility. Hope the 2 hour drive goes okay. I've got a good book to listen to, and I'm feeling pretty good. It will be interesting for me as I used to run such a facility. It will feel good to do something productive.

Bits n pieces

Haircut this a.m. thank goodness! I was getting pretty shaggy. Amber, snippest to the stars, or at least to lots of Crestonians (perhaps not 10,000 but close) did the dirty job. She's such a pleasant lass.

Then I was on to the Union County Courthouse, where I used to spend some time in my past life as Prairie SWA director. Saw the sheriff, Angie (who is done at that job Friday - heading to a water works job), and others. Chatted with Sandy the Auditor for the past 10 years or so. Her kid, Spencer was born 2 weeks (and 2 pounds) after Jud. S and I were preggers together at FNB. S is a very nice person and easy to talk with. I'll never forget her story (told during the monthly stuffing of FNB statements) of the Christmas when she and her cousin were told to burn the trash. Evidently the trash and the Christmas presents were on the porch and unfortunately they burned it all! Ashes to ashes. Funny true story.

Anyways, catching up on kids was eye opening. Her oldest is married and stationed in England with the airforce. Second son is Amy's age - he worked a bit with me at the landfill as work-study - nice kid. He's laid off from Pepsi and is considering going to DMACC for some type of mechanic study. Then there is Spencer - Jud's age. Didn't graduate HS, presently in the men's reformatory at Anamosa.

I bitch and worry about the Goldy kids, but I can't imagine what that fam has been thru. He fell in with the wrong crowd - didn't fit in. He was born huge and has been well over 6 ft. tall since he was 12 years old. That tends to separate a person from their peers at that age! Sandy has not been to see him yet - a painful subject I could tell. I hope and pray things turn out okay for Spencer and his family.

How I'm off to T's to sit by the pool. No swimming for me due to surgery but I'll dangle a footsy.

Just 1 week

after my prep for surgery day, I'm nearly back to kicking ass and taking names! I truly feel better each day. Just one week ago I had to observe while my friends ate breakfast, as I was on my colon cleanse day. Yep, it was Jello and chix broth for me. I had to make an emergency run to Fareway for Popsicles and suckers, just for fun.

After "lunch" I began my attempt to drink the sodium stuff (lemon) that was to do the trick. It was only 12 ounces, and it was chilled and on ice. But I am not a big drinker anyway - and this stuff went down like cough syrup. As the day went on, I was beginning to think it hadn't worked.

Thank God for Nancy A and her breakfast story of her pre-surgery experience. She said while throwing a ball for the dog she suffered a "shart". What? We all pondered. She went on to explain that she thought she would just pass a little gas (after drinking the magic potion) and much to her dismay a foul liquid ran down her leg! Thank God she's a nurse and I'm sure she dealt with it as a professional! WTF!

So later last Monday night, I was in the bathtub, thinking perhaps I'd have to choke down the last couple ounces of the "stuff" that I had stashed in the frig. When I felt some gas bubbling through my abdomen. Light bulb moment. I could just try to pass the gas, but hey, what if I'm like Nancy. Oh damn - good thing I heard that story or I may have taken a nice shit bath. Ugh!

For the next hour or so I was a frequent flier on our potty.

Then came surgery. When I regained consciousness, I realized I was hungry and I began eating. And waiting for my sleeping bowels to wake up. For the first day and a half, there was no activity - not so much as a small fart (I hate that word and if you ask me it's grosser than the other F word, but it is descriptive). I much prefer Robbie Dob's term "fluff". Or our childhood term "putton".

I was starting to worry that the Doc had screwed something up. I was feeling painfully distended by food and gas at that point, and what if there was no longer a legitimate outlet? Sounds painful! Then, Wednesday night gas began finally making it's way through my colon. It took until Friday morning to produce a "nice BM" whereupon I texted my husband saying "Poop Happens!" I'm sure he was overjoyed and it made his morning at work.

Since then things have gone swimmingly! In fact my colon is very active - could it be the lower left side pains I've suffered lately were the result of my colon and the ovarian cyst? Hmmm one does wonder. For now, I'll enjoy the newfound colon motility. And now you know more about my body than you ever wanted to - but I wanted ya'll to know this shit (stuff) in case you ever undergo surgery.

Loneliness

Everybody needs buddies. But buddies can't be magically summoned from thin air. They take nurturing, just like a little plant from a seed. Sure, full grown plants are nice to purchase - all growed up and beautiful, but they can wilt as soon as you get them home, and somehow, even if they bloom they're not quite as satisfying as a beautiful flower you grew from a seed.

Aww what a gooey sweet analogy. But it works. I'm funny about friends. I'm definitely not quick to make 'em. I bide my time and let things develop slowly. My longtime friend Robbie Dob (whom I've been friends with from childhood so I didn't have to go thru any awkward making friends stage) makes friends easily and quickly. I recall when we all lived in Omaha, she once made friends with someone she met at the Laundromat, and met that person for drinks later.

I would never do that. I would be more likely to observe that person and their laundry through several weeks, gradually making small talk - seeing if there were any warning signs of psychotic behavior, bi-polar disorder, or drug abuse and the like. If they pass that test, I might suggest something like a coffee date. (assuming of course I pass their muster - and I freely admit I'm not everyone's type)

I've worked at DNR in Des Moines for 7 months now, and I'm finally getting to the point that I can get beyond the basic chat with a couple co-workers who seem like friend material. Yep, I'm slow that way. I guess that way I can savor the process. Yep, I've felt lonely at work. A couple of the younger women let me chat with them, but I know I'm not yet one of the group. (will I ever be?) My cubicle can sometimes feel like it's in the middle of the Sahara - a desert devoid of friendly faces.

When I go home (to my home away from home in Waukee) at night I feel alone. Especially when Joanie isn't home. Sometimes I delay going there by shopping or stopping for a meal. Just to be around other people - to hear their conversations and laughter. I have always been one who is pretty comfortable being lonely - I've spent a great deal of time alone. For the first several months that we lived in Osage I traveled each week to Wisconsin, staying in lonely motels. I knew my honey was home alone too then. I'm lucky I love to read books and they've comforted me through many a lonely night, and when I didn't want to face some reality I didn't want to.

The important thing is to realize that we all have people who love us. Even if they aren't with us.

Fiction and religion

Sometimes I don't mind when an author slips a bit of the character's feelings/doubts/thoughts about spirituality into a book. I just don't like "holier than thou" attitudes.

This past couple days I've been catching up on some reading. I picked up a couple "quick reads" at the library. Robert B. Parker is one of my all time faves - he writes the Spenser books, along with Jesse Stone and now Everitt Hitch - Westerns. All the leading characters are pretty much the same guy. And all the books are filled with bits of conversation by men of few words. I read yesterday's offering "Brimstone" a western, in about 4 hours or so, finishing when I couldn't sleep after we went to bed.

Robert B. Parker books don't usually get into religion, but surprisingly, this one did broach the subject. The religious guy turned out to me a schmuck of course, in it for the power and the money. But Parker's lead character did admit that he thought the religious guy actually believed the stuff he was spouting, all while molesting a teenage girl. Jim Bakker anyone? and others...

Today I dug into "Face of Betrayal" by Lis Wiehl. I should have gotten a clue that this would be a very conservative book, as it was reviewed on the cover by Bill O'Reilly. But I must give the author credit. She inserts religion into the various character's lives, but not in an "in your face" way. I'm only about half way through so I hope it doesn't take over!

Today I had breakfast with my homies after running into them on my inaugural post-hysterectomy walk around Lake McKinley with Pablo. Ah I've missed them so! It's amazing how a bit of girl chat can lift one's spirit (speaking of religious experiences). We talked about girl stuff - BMs and sex. And got into the world's problems on which we don't all see eye to eye. But we were able to stay civil, and when conversation got a bit animated, we decided to switch back to BMs. haha! Estrogen trumps politics!