I am one of those people who sees everything going on around me in both the mundane and extraordinary.  I don’t miss a thing.  Every little detail is noticed and those very details submerge my thoughts into “what if’s” or “what about” or “hmmm”.  It is both a curse and a blessing.  Most of the time, I don’t know what to do with the information and simply file it away.  It clogs my senses and, truth be told, I can’t find my keys or remember my zip code or forget to do something really important like, I don’t know, payroll because of it.  *sigh*

Today it has become, yet again, blog-fodder or stories from the archives and perennials of, “Truth is Stranger than Fiction.”

I’ve been to the grocery store three times within the last 8 days and have bought over $250 worth of food.  All three times I went in for something like, eggs, milk, bread, but ended up buying a bunch of other stuff because the deals were just too much to pass up.  As a result, I need to go back to the grocery store to buy things like, eggs, milk, and bread because, evidently, my Spidey-Powers don’t keep me on track in this mundane chore.  All of those bright yellow “SALE!” signs were just too distracting.

 Too bad we can’t make a meal out of cake mix (1 dollar a box!), grind-yer-own-spices (usually 7 bucks, now only 2 bucks!!), and Vintage-boxed Raisin Bran (1.49 a box!!  Regular, same size: 4.79 a box!!).  The good news is that I spent over $100 and got a free turkey.  I wasn’t going to cook for Thanksgiving but I guess I will now that I have a bird.  I dread going back to the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner fixin’s ‘because I’ll probably come home with just eggs, milk, and bread.

I was talking to a person the other day that needed their Affidavit for Release from Ignition Interlock License notarized.  It was just after 7:00AM and, this person who’d had an ignition interlock for three years, was trying to get their regular driver’s license back.  The interlock license expired three years ago!  I mentioned that I needed a valid ID and this person whips out a regular but illegal license that expires in 2014.  Somehow, this person had circumvented the system but had been caught again and had to fix it.  This person smelled of alcohol and their hands were shaking terribly.  This person shares the roads with you and me and is still drinking, despite the legal causes out to prevent drinking and driving.  Yes, I noticed it but I didn’t/couldn’t say a thing.  Oh, but I wanted to but what good would it have done?  None, I suppose; it pissed me off.

I had to take a detour while driving to work the other morning and I noticed a boy, about 12-13, running down the sidewalk as if he’d missed his school bus.  I had to stop at the major intersection but I noticed the kid wasn’t stopping at all.  He ran right in front of a truck.  The truck driver quickly slammed on his brakes, spilled obviously hot coffee down the front of him, and began swearing and jumping around in his seat all hotcha-ChaCha-like.  The kid stopped for a second, looked at the driver, flailed his arms, and took off.  Luckily, there wasn’t a car in the far lane and the kid made it all the way across the intersection.  He never looked back.  That poor guy in the truck sat there, pulling his steaming, hot, coffee-covered shirt off his chest while shaking his head and banging on his steering wheel.  He looked up and saw me, got embarrassed, and drove off.  I really felt bad for him.  What the hell, kid?!

Yesterday, around lunchtime, we had a store full of people and all five of us were helping customers.  I was helping two people at a cash register close to the front door.  I was multitasking, greeting customers as they came in, directing them, handling the two transactions at the register, and the rest of my staff were helping multiple customers, as well.  It was just that busy!  An older man was standing at our shipping counter for all of two minutes and yelled out over the din of busy copiers, conversations, and computer’s whizzing, “DOES ANYONE WORK HERE?  I.  NEED.  HELP!” 

It suddenly got quiet (He yelled VERY loudly.) as everyone stopped what they were doing and glanced in his direction.

I raised my hand and yelled, very, very loudly (too loudly, really), “YES SIR AND WHEN WE ARE FINISHED HELPING OUR CUSTOMERS, SOMEONE WILL BE OVER TO HELP YOU DIRECTLY!!” 

I knew I said it too loudly but, really, buddy, do you not have eyes?  Everyone and I mean everyone, chuckled quietly, and the din returned.  A moment later, my shipping-dude went over and tried to help the old guy.  He didn’t want my shipping-dude to help him; he wanted me.  So, we traded places and I went over to help him.  I was ready to be given a hard time when the old codger started flirting with me.

“You must be the one in charge.  I really like how you just took charge of that situation and answered my question.  I saw you from across the room.  Are you married?”

Gah!  Yes, I am, you freak…!  I wanted to say it but I didn’t.  (I never describe myself as being married except for in emergencies.  lol!) I just smiled at him, winked, wiggled my adorned ring finger at him, finished the transaction, and said with a smile (that said ‘Push off!’), “Okay.  You are all taken care of and can be on your way.  I’ve got to help someone else. You have a great day, now.”  I toddled off and helped a little old lady with her calendar project.

I never looked back.

Later, my staff told me that all of their customers were laughing and commenting on the old codger and how funny I was for yelling back at him.  They were watching me with him and, evidently, as he was speaking to me, I blushed.  Damn that I didn’t realize I’d blushed but they all got a big kick out of it.  This time people were more observant of me than I of them.  I just rolled my eyes and… blushed again.  They were all merciless and teased me the rest of the day.  It was all in good fun but, geez, people!!

I hate it when I blush uncontrollably.  I usually know when I blush; I get hot and feel flushed, red in the face, and my head tingles a little.  A cranky, demanding, loud old man made me blush.  Criminy!  So much for Spidey-Senses.

This morning I had my game face on.  No, not my football game face… And, yes, we are going to our first NFL game tomorrow. 

It’s Gabriel’s 12^th birthday on Monday and I bought tickets to go to Denver and see the Broncos (his favorite team) and the Chargers (Angela’s favorite team) play for the number one spot in the AFC West divisional, or something like that.  Very exciting! 

No, I had my game face on because Angela and the kids made me breakfast (supposed to be in bed but I don’t like to eat in bed) and I had to look happy about cold waffles (DeMarcus made ‘em.), burnt sausages (Gabriel’s first attempt at making, you know, “raw meat… cooked”), and banana bread (Angela made it and it was delicious.) 

I didn’t blush once and I’m pretty sure they didn’t notice a thing.  Even when I choked a little on the waffles when I heard that DeMarcus made them without first washing his dirty little hands.  Of course, I noticed the look on their faces (beaming with pride and adoration) and the sly little look from Angela as we do share a brain and she knew exactly what I was doing.

Gabriel was particularly proud of himself.  Angela told him it was good for him to learn how to cook so he could cook us meals and be able to cook for himself.  Now, see, this scared the crap out of me because the kid is already eating us out of house and home.  He was just so glad to have been able to, “…do something for Miss Natalie ‘cause she’s just SO awesome.”  He smiled at me so sweetly and so charmingly that I smiled back and thanked him, for the umpteenth time, for making me Breakfast in Bed but Not in Bed.  My smile did not betray the fact that I knew he was buttering me up to be able to play his Nintendo DS and the fact that he’s just so freakin’ excited to be going to a Broncos game AND that I know that he knows that he’s playing me but he’s still being Mr. Bee Charmer about it.  I winked at him and he blew me a kiss.

And that… is when I KNOW I blushed.

(Not an homage to my secret boyfriend, Cesar Milan.  In case you were wondering…)

Okay, so, the M-F’ing dentist thing is still going on and driving me batshit.  I went to the dentist (endodontic stuff is completed) to get my new crown and, thinking I would just hop in the chair, pop off the old crown and pop on the new one didn’t happen.  The office manager told me she would order and have the crown before the appointment but, ohhhhhhh…. Noooooo…. She di’n’t.  So, instead of being there for, oh, I don’t know, twenty minutes, I was there for an hour and forty five minutes while the dentist took off the old crown, cleaned up the nubby tooth, and put on a temporary crown.  I go back a week from tomorrow for the new, permanent crown.  Supposedly.

I just tried eating dinner: pasta with spinach and cheese.  The M-F’ing temporary crown came off in my mouth and I almost swallowed it.  The spinach was acting like dental floss, all wrapped up under it and, POP!  WTF. I swear to God. M-F’r.  Holy Christ.  I immediately emailed the office manager and asked her  to squeeze me in tomorrow so I could, once again, take time off from work to go take care of some M-F’ing BS work not done correctly (or thoroughly or appropriately or exactly) by this dental office.

*sigh*

Anywho…

Bo is doing well.  He’s just the sweetest, most well-mannered little pooter… ever.  I can’t understand why those people would even think about putting him down just because he kept trying to escape from their house.  I mean, I’ve seen crazy and he just ain’t crazy, man.  He’s a darling and has really gotten along well with everyone in the household.  He’s even doing well with the cat and, well, let’s face it; no one really gets along well with that cat except Mojo.  Bo seems to round out this menagerie quite nicely.  He is, however, slightly arthritic and, every night he asks (Yes, he actually asks…) to get up on the couch and promptly goes to sleep.  He has a fairly strict schedule and just drops once he’s tired.  He is kind of old-man-ish like that but he keeps up with the other dogs during the day and tolerates the boys’ antics and has plenty of energy and personality to trick me into giving him a cookie.

Of course, I am his personal Jesus and that suits me just fine. He follows me like a little shadow and always wants to go everywhere with me.  He rides well in the truck and loves to go to PetSmart.  He doesn’t cause trouble and if there’s trouble to be had, he slinks and cringes and hides.  Poor little soul… He acts like someone is going to kick the crap out of him if you look at him sideways.  I believe someone(s) did just that and, each time he acts scared (scarred), I go out of my way to comfort and soothe him.

I truly believe the reason he fits in so well is because Lulu is a healer dog.  I got her from the pound after I had to put my little cattle dog, Osita, to sleep because she went crazy and tried to kill herself by jumping through a closed window.  Osita was a horrendous ordeal and I finally had had enough.  So, when I heard that neighbor woman say she was going to put Bo down, I somewhat understand her angst but I do not believe she gave him the chance he deserved.  I tried everything, and I mean, almost go to the break the bank place of EVERYTHING, to help Osita.  The vet recommended I put her down.  It was awful.

My heart was broken and Lulu, goofy little puppy that she was/is, helped in the healing.  Then Angela and I got together and Lulu was perfect with the boys.  Then, Lulu got DeMarcus talking and it was almost as if she’d performed a miracle.  Then she peed on the back porch and in the basement a bunch of times and I realized she wasn’t a saint and I got mad at her but forgave her, just the same.  God knows… If I had to pee outside in the Chicago cold I might consider it better to pee in the basement…

Criminy.  What in the hell am I talking about?  I digress…

Lulu wouldn’t put up with Bo’s territorialism over the food bowl and gently told him it wasn’t okay.  He responded positively because she wasn’t going to fight him but she wasn’t going to put up with his crap, either.  I love the simplicity of dog relationships.  It just is what it is and… Hey, Man… Deal with it.  Yesterday, I caught the cat rubbing up against Lulu in a totally, “I love you” kind of way.  When he saw me see him, he flipped his tail and strutted off as if nothing had happened.  Uh huh.  We all feel that way, Kitty Q, and it’s nothing to be all-cat-ashamed-I-just-loved-on-the-dog-like.  Lulu is our healing heart pup.

 Bo now sleeps next to Lulu and actually lets Mr. Spazz-o, Mojo, lay almost on top of him.  He has short hair and knows Mojo is a curly little heater.  I bought him a sweater and he tolerates it but would prefer to wear Mojo especially when they are outside.  Lulu lets him eat out of her bowl.  He picks out the soft bits (the best part) and then goes back to eating out of his bowl.  It’s really sweet.  I think she knows he’s an old guy who had a rough first part of his life.

We are all willing to cut him some slack.  It’s easy.  Love him up, let him sleep on the couch, give him the soft bits, and the rewards are definitely worth it.  He looks at Lulu with adoring eyes.  He leans into me and almost hugs me with his paws.  He licks the boys gently.  He squishes in with Angela and snuggles with her.  He walks by the cat really fast and averts eye contact.  (He’s a smart, smart dog.)  If he has to go out in the middle of the night, he is the only soul brave enough to attempt to awaken me.  He will gently put his paws up, lifts my hand or arm with his nose, and then carefully stands back with ears alert.  He’s been doing this all week, around 3 (formerly 4) in the morning because of Daylight Savings time.  He’s so sweet about it that I automatically get up and let him out.

Life is good. Dog psychology is fascinating.  Bo is happy.  TDC (The Damn Cat) is happy (and right now is messing with Mojo under my desk.)  Lulu is happy all the time.  I love that about her.  The boys are having trouble adjusting to this weirdness with bedtime and Daylight Savings.  Two meltdowns each this week is enough!  I think Angela and I are experiencing some sleep deprivation from all of it.  We’ll be okay… If we can just get a few minutes, hours, days (God have Mercy!) ALONE!

Now, if I can just get this dental thingy done and over with, all will be well.  ‘Cause, you know, the holidays are right around the corner.  I cannot believe that it is November already.  Where did this year go and, wow, a lot has happened.  It’s all good.  Every morning I click my heels together and tell myself there’s no place like home.  Then Lulu, Mojo, and Bo come bounding into the office and shower me with love as if they haven’t seen me in a week.

I really love that.

“The fire.  The odor of burning juniper is the sweetest fragrance on the face of the earth, in my honest judgment; I doubt if all the smoking censers of Dante’s paradise could equal it.  One breath of juniper smoke, like the perfume of sagebrush after rain, evokes in magical catalysis, like certain music, the space and light and clarity, and piercing strangeness of the American West.  Long may it burn.”

Edward Abbey, “Desert Solitaire.”

Mmmmm… Yes, juniper smells wonderful but in my honest judgment, piñon smells even better.  I long to be able to burn my own wood but I don’t have a real fireplace. Mine is a gas fireplace and it does nothing to add heat and only supplies a kind of fake ambiance.  It screams “70’s” Ugh. I don’t have a chiminea, yet, but today might have to be the day. 

These olfactory sensations, and that of cooking fresh tortillas and green chilé, are the smells of home and comfort.  They evoke strong memories that weigh on my heart like First Love.  Someone in this neighborhood regularly burns piñon.  At night, or the early, ever-darkening evenings (Daylight Savings is tonight, people!), as I walk along the path to my door, I will stop and take notice of the fall scents in the air.  When piñon is detected, I waffle in my sense of direction; no matter how cold or hungry or tired I might be, and stand in the sweet scented air and breathe deeply.  Kids and dogs, waiting by the door, cannot entice me out of my trance; I linger in it.

One time, when I lived in Tucson, I brought home some piñon from New Mexico and gave it as a Christmas present to my roommate.  I wrapped it in Saran Wrap (to hold in the powerful scent) and colorful holiday paper and put it under the tree.  It was heavy and awkward and my roommate thought she was getting an expensive electronics gift, or something of that nature.   As soon as the paper seal was broken, I could smell the sweet, piney-scent and drank in a huge breath of it.  I’ll never forget the look of, “What the hell?!” on her face as she opened her gift of wood.  She tossed it aside, ripped open another present, and thanked me for the ‘whatever’ I bought for her.

I used that much unappreciated gift one evening in her chiminea on the patio.  My friend, Jeff, brought his guitar and we drank coffee, jammed, and completely and totally enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the scents of New Mexico on a cool, Tucson winter’s evening.  We played, “Rocky Mountain High” and laughed because neither of us wanted to admit we knew and played John Denver songs but it was perfect.  Great memory.  My roommate joined us and asked what that wonderful incense was that we were burning.  When I told her it was the wood I’d given to her for Christmas that she had so casually discarded, she opened her eyes wide and then got mad at me for burning it.  Finders Keepers…

Today is Halloween and we have many activities planned for the boys.  First there’s homework, and Gabriel is sitting in the kitchen, crying that he has to do it now instead of at the last minute Sunday night.  Then there is Zoo Boo at the Rio Grande Zoo.  And then there is trick or treating tonight… None of which Gabriel will be a part of if he doesn’t get his act together.  *sigh*

Tomorrow, however, tomorrow is for the mountains; a long drive to Taos, hopefully, as it has snowed quite a lot in northern New Mexico.  I’ll stop at some corner outpost along the way and buy some piñon, which will cost an arm and a leg, and possibly some juniper and oak.  I want to have a roaring fire, somewhere in the nestling forest, high upon the mountains.  I want to roast marshmallows, drink hot chocolate, warm my frozen hands over the fire while trying to not burn the soles of my boots, have a snowball fight, watch the dogs run with wild abandon in the snow, snuggle with my honeys and wipe drippy noses while having conversations about the Denver Broncos, photography, and Sponge Bob, “right?”.  (DeMarcus now ends each sentence with, “right?” and it drives us bonkers but is cute, at the same time.)

I want the memories of my childhood, complete with scents and tastes and sounds, to infiltrate the memories of our family and become a part of their traditions, too.

But only if Gabriel gets his GD’d homework done!  What a buzz kill that kid is sometimes. 

I just read something somewhere that reminded me of a particular time in my life that always makes me feel good.  The timing was perfect because I’ve been feeling inspired by little things like, the weather, a song, the light of the day, colors on the ground and in the sky, the turn of a phrase from random strangers, and the like.  It’s all very oogly-boogly and pulling from inner-extensions.  It’s the reason I have that look upon my face that seemingly no one can figure out.

“Are you angry?”

No, why?  Do I look angry? I am the farthest thing from angry… I can sometimes look angry because of the furrow on my brow while deep in thought.  I have the same look when I wear contact lenses because I don’t see as well in them.  I guess that’s my modern day version of rose colored glasses.  Blurry images and trying to focus and make sense of it all when it doesn’t seem to make sense; it just is what it is.

“Is something wrong?”

No, nothing is wrong.  I’m just thinking and remembering and trying to either figure something out or figure something in.  The turnings in my life are interesting and, within my thoughts, I look at how the circles come together. 

Fall is such a beautiful time of year here in New Mexico.  The colors are stunning and, yet, are the foreboding of death or dormancy; one last hurrah before the issuance of cold finalities.  It is also the time of year when I think back to the loss of two very good friends who died in the same month/year; nineteen years ago.  Was it really that long ago?  This time of year, the smells, the sights, the warmth of the day and cool of the night, the spot between seat warmers in the morning and air conditioning in the afternoon, remind me of the beauty and the pain of love and death.

It is a Full Circle.  Sometimes the depth is deeply sad.  Sometimes the arc is achingly high.  And, no, I’m not talking about bi-polar tendencies; I’m talking about remembering and allowing all of the senses to feel and honor and apply to the heart in the moment of today.

This brings me to a place of profound thankfulness for the relationships in my life.  I know it is that time of year to celebrate “thankfulness” but, for me, it always comes a little earlier than the national holiday.  Having had these losses in my life reminds me of a promise I made to be grateful, every day, for the gifts bestowed upon me.  At the time, in dealing with the deaths of two close friends, I came to the realization that their deaths were a gift to live a life that is known and felt and carried on in their memory.  I’m not going to get all Kubler-Ross on anyone but having these reminders helps when I want to reach through my windshield and strangle the driver next to me or I lose my patience with the boys or I want to throttle a customer, etc…

All of those impatient moments, lack of grace/compassion, intolerance, or simply my unwillingness to engage, fade away as I remember the look on Kevin’s face as he accepted that he would not “get over” AIDS and came to terms with his life and death.  The look on my face told him I was having a really hard time seeing him in such an incapacitated state.  So he smiled and flicked back the sheet from his body and said, “I know, right?  I look shriveled beyond recognition.  But look at how big my penis looks!!” He wheezed that snickering, devilish laugh and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  And that is the epitome of who he was… my devilish friend with a wicked sense of humor.

Negative thoughts dissipate when I close my eyes and see Patty, at four in the morning, sitting on a stool next to the wood burning furnace in her dirt-floored basement, with a cup of tea in one hand and a dastardly, hand-rolled cigarette in the other, looking at me and saying in a quietly poetic, raspy voice, “No one’s life is wasted.  We all affect each other.  You’ve made my impending death more about living… and I thank you.”

She had been unable to sleep because of the steroids so I kept her occupied by making her explain all of the weird stuff in the tiny drawers of her workbench.  She was a collector of oddities, in both friends (of which she had many) and things, always stopping at abandoned buildings or a seemingly benign pile of dirt on the side of the road or a garage sale in a far-flung place; taking a funny looking nut and bolt, a switch plate cover, a pipe from an old radiator, and other eclectic items.  Each time I picked something out of a drawer, she could remember in detail exactly where she got it and why she took it but never explained the potential purpose for it in her life.  Her answer was always “Just in case.” to my question of, “Yeah, but why?”

Kevin was an artist.  He made jewelry and over-sized oil paintings of desert landscapes.  He knew color and we would sit and muse over the colors in the sky of a New Mexico fall day.  He made me appreciate the color yellow, as it was never one of my favorites, in a way that, to his day makes me see everything in a shade of sunlight.

Patty, too, was an artist with her collection of things, strewn about her yard in purposeful meanings, long after they’d worn out their actual reason for being.  She collected friends in much the same way.  She saw the extended potential in everything/everyone and loved them beyond their flaws, brokenness, and disappointments.  She focused the blurred and had a place in her heart for all of us.

And so, in coming full circle, I find it is not hard to refocus the joys in my life.  Here they are… boogers and all… Found on a fall day… Somewhere in the mountains of New Mexico:

Just for the record: Angela won’t let me post a photo of her face… some of these photos were taken by the boys (Great job!).  Colorful moments…

We were up and dressed very early this morning.  The boys were most anxious for hot chocolate, donuts, and breakfast burritos.  Angela was anxious to get a good spot to photograph from and I was anxious driving on the wrong side of the street amidst all the orange cones.  It was all very organized if just a little disorienting.

Here are some of the photos I and the boys took:

These are just a few of the 75+ photos we took.  We were absolutely surrounded by people and balloons and EVERYONE had at least one camera.

Yes, we had coffee, hot chocolate, and one donut ($17 buckaroos) and had breakfast burritos on the way out (4@ $5 buckaroos each.  God!) and then went to breakfast.  Getting up at 4 and waiting around until almost 7 will do that to you.  They cancelled the early morning program (Dawn Patrol) due to strong winds aloft.  Only about one third of the balloons actually went up for the Mass Ascension.  (That was about 200+ out of a possible 600-700.)  All in all, it was still great fun.  It wasn’t too cold but cold enough for runny noses and a need to run in place.  I had the boys doing jumping jacks, at one point.

I wasn’t sure we would be able to go this morning because the wind came in so strong last night and it did rain just a little bit.  I kept waking up and checking the weather which, at this point, means I really, really need a nap!!  We ran into a friend of mine from work and it was fun to hang out and wait for the balloons to go up.  I texted him a little while ago and he said his little boy was already fast asleep… as I wish ours were… from having been up and in excitement so early.  Ahhhh…. the Balloon Fiesta.  I like it.  I like it not.  Us locals aren’t as charmed by it because of the increased traffic, increased amount of people (everywhere: restaurants, stores, grocery stores, etc…), and all the hoopla in the sky.

Still… I got all choked up when the balloons finally started inflating.

It was worth it just to see the magnificent full moon.  The balloons were great.  But, really, it was the look on the boys faces (their actual first time at dawn) that made it really special.  We ditched Angela and just did our own thing and they were thrilled to be able to take pictures with my camera.

Gabriel took the G-Daddy and DeMarcus took the one of the beer mug.  Pretty darned good, if you ask me!

For the last two and a half months I’ve been dealing with a very bad Dental Experience.  Currently, I am still on heavy doses of antibiotics while the Dental Experience tries to figure out how they are going to deal with their botched work.  Of course, I’ve had to consult with a (couple of) lawyer(s).  Pain.  In. The. Arse.  Um… mouth.

Adding insult to injury is the fact that both of the pain killers made me toss.  Violently.  So, I took Advil PM and knocked myself out.  That’s a wicked hangover, folks.  Wicked.

Let’s recap:  Violent and Wicked.

Adding further insult to injury is the fact that it was so stressful that I was yanked out of (the only pleasant side effect of) menopause and got my “Little Friend.”  (Now, why in the hell did they used to call it that, hmmm?  It is neither friendly, or in my case, “little” and seems a very strange euphemism.)

It got so bad I had to call my mom.  Thanks mom.  I totally couldn’t think straight to make any decisions from all that adding insult to injuries.  And I couldn’t drive because I was stoned.  I missed four days of work (sick time but I also had the previous weekend and holiday off) and am woefully behind.

And still… I am swollen and in pain.  Still!  WTF?!  At one point, the swelling was so bad that I was having trouble swallowing and breathing.  It was then I asked Angela if she thought she was any good with a box cutter and a Bic pen.  Hey, I’ve watched enough E.R., House, and Criminal Minds to know a good tracheotomy when I see one.

Otherwise, I have some new favorite reads and thought I would share them with you.  I just love funny, witty, snarky, totally SMART blogs.  And I’m going to admit that I think Dooce is funny.  Mostly this is because she takes on the haters with such FUMF’r panache that she’s kind of my new hero.  Sorta.  She’s still a Mommy Blogger and that’s not really my thing.  But I don’t care how long her dog’s nails are… the photos are funny as hell and I always wonder how long it takes for her to get the dog to pose, hold still, and get the desired shot.  I’m thinkin’ somewhere in the 60-70 range.  Hellafunny.

So, here they are and I hope you like them (I’m also going to sprinkle in some of my regular fav’s):

 mimi smartypants

SinPantalones

Emails From Crazy People

Overheard in New York

Duke City Fix

NewMexiKen

Dooce

Grammarphobia

Oh Fair New Mexico

 Anthony Bourdain

And, we got a new (old) dog.  Bo, resident neighbor Houdini dog, has found a permanent home with us.  Our neighbor was going to “put him down” because she couldn’t deal with his “crazy” anymore.  He’s not crazy, lady, he just can’t stand living in your “home” anymore.  He’s very happy here, is completely attached to us, and, yes, he has a problem with loud thunder, the garbage man, and hot air balloons.  See the theme?  LOUD noises bother him.  We just put him on the leash to keep him from going batshit and he’s fine. 

Tsk… People are so stupid sometimes.

Ahhhh…. The end of summer is near and fall is just around the corner.  It’s the most… wonderful… time… of the year!!

I finally got a haircut/color courtesy of Ms. Angela today.  Looks Faboo Dahlink!  I bought some Aveda Volumizing (evidently this is not a real word) Tonic.  After I paid for it… I read the ingredients.  It has something called “Bladderwrack” in it. Straight out of Wikipedia:  It was the original source of iodine, discovered in 1811, and was used extensively to treat Goiter, a swelling of the thyroid gland related to iodine deficiency. In the 1860s, it was claimed that bladder wrack, as a thyroid stimulant, could counter obesity by increasing the metabolic rate and, since then, it has been featured in numerous weight-loss remedies. 

Huh.  And I’m using it on my hair?  Maybe I should drink the stuff.

Today was the first day of five days off of getting my life together.  Why is it that the Universe always wants to mess with that?  Bo, neighbor dog Houdini, always seems to show up on these days and then I spend the next several hours trying to get in touch with his people to come get him.  Usually he only shows up when there is a thunderstorm.  Today it was blue skies and Miss Natalie in scary bed-head pre-Faboo-haircut and pj’s, lookin’ just loverly.  *sigh*

We are avoiding our very messy, really needs to be cleaned and organized house.  I had the filet mignon; Angela had the ribeye.  There’s always tomorrow…Scarlett!

And in other exciting news: it rained.  Again.  It was loverly.  I could go for days like this and I just might ‘cause I’m avoiding my really needs to be cleaned and organized house.

Happy long weekend, everyone.  I will be retiring to the couch.  If’n you need something, get it yourself.

I’m off duty.

I have so much Random Stuff floating through my head that it kind of hurts to have a new thought.  Just when it seems as if I might be able to pull it all together into some sort of blog post, I remember something that needs to get done or something I need to tell someone or the dog barks or the wind blows and it all melts away into,

“What in the hell was I just talking about?”

So, I don’t even care if this makes sense, or not; I’m just going to purge.  I’m done bingeing.

I finally finished my book.  I thought I loved this writer but now find that he is slow in the beginning, filling in the scenes and landscapes, and then rushes through the rest of the book.  So far, the two books I’ve read by him have felt like he was enjoying the writing in the beginning, rushed by his publisher about half-way through, and then just sorta made some shit up to finally finish the thing. Strong out of the gate; weak around the turn; totally lost at the post. 

Horsey Metaphor.

Bathroom reading has been spectacularly weird.  Got a parenting magazine in the mail and just set it with the other magazines in The Sanctuary.  I’ve never read a parenting magazine and, while the articles are actually about parenting, the advertisements are a bizarre collection of vaginal/urinal/beauty/garbage bag/pet /food ads.

For example: Vagisil Satin for all day comfort, Midol Menstrual Complete, Biore’ Dual Fusion Moisturizer (Too old for acne but too young for wrinkles…), Glad ForceFlex/OxiClean, Iams Smart Puppy with PreBiotics and DHA, Bologna has just 4 grams of sugar (PB&J has 16.  Like I’m gonna care about the sugar in bologna.), and in the Parenting Top Ten Summer Head-Scratchers: There exists a flavor of Popsicle known only as “blue.”  Duh!  I’m pretty sure “purple” is a flavor, as well, ‘cause it sure ain’t grape!

The pièce de résistance comes from a “Mom Debate” article/advertisement (hard to tell the difference) entitled, “Vaginal-rejuvenation surgery: Would you do it?”  Having never actually birthed children, this made my hiney (versus other parts) twinge (considering I was in The Sanctuary.) Later, (Much later, NOT in The Sanctuary.  I do have some rules.) this started a conversation with Angela that I wish I’d never had about Gabriel’s big ol’ head, ripping, tearing, and searing pain while pee’ing.  The poll results were 35% Yes to 65% No.  Sometimes I thank my Lucky Stars I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies and now, when Angela tries to tell me the details, I stick my fingers in my ears and yell, “LALALALALALALALA!”

I’ve since tossed the “parenting” magazine in the trash. Ignorance is truly bliss.  I prefer the Indiana Jones Method and just make this shit up as I go along.  It’s bad enough that I can’t get them to use their placements for every meal much less deal with searing, pee’ing pain.  The only thing I wanna “sear” is nice ribeye steak.  Thank. You. Very. Much.  However, I now understand the placement for that Vagisil Satin advertisement.

Angela had a family emergency and we had to go to Virginia.  I’ve never been east of Oklahoma and I’ve never met a member of her family.  We loaded up the truck and moved the family… all the way across New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, (Where we stopped at a Starbucks and finally met an online friend and it was the highlight of the trip!  Hey Angei!), Tennessee, and, finally, Virginia.  It took us three days to get there, stayed for three days, and took three days to get home.  Secret Agent 39 did not appreciate those numbers for once in her life.

It was a trip and I have lots of stories but this is a long-ass post so, for now, that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

Well, no, wait; traveling does something to a person and I will say that I’m eternally grateful to be home, sitting on my own throne, and basking in The Sanctuary.

It’s so good to be back to regular despite my twinges through the reading material.

As we hit the bottom of the trail and walked out onto the clearing, I expected the deer to run away at the sight of us. One doe simply popped her head up, stared at us, and then went back to grazing.

“Be very quiet and they won’t even know we are human. They think we are just big horses.” Marcie whispered.

Soon, all of the deer were staring at us and seemed not sure whether to run into the thick chaparral or stand and welcome the beasts walking toward them. They, in their cinnamon colored tuxedos, puffy white tails, cocked ears and twitching noses, began casually courting their young toward a group of trees. Each graceful doe stopped within a safe distance and, once again, began to graze while occasionally looking up.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing that they don’t run away? I mean, do you think they were like this when the Chumash were here?” I asked.

The eating stopped and twelve heads perked up when I spoke.

“I don’t think the Chumash rode horses.” Marcie said.

I shifted my weight and Penny snorted loudly while I pondered this thought. All of the deer now eyed us with renewed suspicion. They did not move however were ready to bolt at any moment. At just that moment, Annie saw them and took off running toward them. They scattered into the safety of the trees and Annie, already fairly tuckered-out from walking behind Penny, ran back with very little enthusiasm. She fell back in behind Penny and we continued our walk along the narrowing trail.

The surrounding Chaparral was thick. I thought about the Chumash Indians that had inhabited this area. I wondered how they navigated through the almost impenetrable denseness and whether they cut swathes of secret paths. The rubbery, drought-resistant shrubbery was hard to the touch and scratched at your calves when you tried to walk through it. It must have been difficult to hunt in this area. I could almost see the Ancient Ones, walking along this very trail, carrying their goods to trade, stopping to pick herbs and gather seeds, catching rabbits or raiding bird nests for eggs as Penny carefully navigated the trail along the edge of the thick. My own primal instincts came alive while straddling atop my horse. 

The Chumash lived in this area for 10,000 or so years. Their main mode of transportation was plank canoe made from pieces of driftwood. They had learned how to seal the cracks with tar, which helped to distinguish them as some of the finest boat builders among the California tribes. They canoed up and down the coast trading and exploring.

The word “Chumash” means, “bead maker” or “shell people.” In this nation of peoples, women could serve equally as chiefs or priests. When I found that out, I immediately liked the Chumash and envisioned myself offering a little girl-power, hand-pump. In addition, they were gifted astronomers and many decisions concerning the entire village were made only after consulting the stars.

I touched the shell necklace adorning my neck and remembered the day I made it. I had been at Shell Beach, all day, collecting shells and rocks. That evening, I carefully selected each shell that would be strung onto wire and clasped in silver. I wore this necklace daily. I felt one with the Chumash, one with the horse, one with the deer, and one with the land. When I said this aloud to Marcie, she rolled her eyes and laughed at me. I just, closed my eyes, ignored her, and tried to be in the moment.

We reached an area of trees and found ourselves stopped by a barbed wire fence. Marcie reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pair of wire-cutters.

“What are you doing?” I asked, even though I knew.

“I’m gonna cut this danged fence. If we go up this way, it is a natural circle back to the ranch. It’s a short-cut home,” she said.

“Oh, my God, Marcie. Is this someone’s land? You can’t do that, can you? I mean, what if you get caught? Isn’t that against the law, or something, um, what if someone shoots at us? Hey, I’m not sure about THIS… we could get into big trouble, couldn’t we?” I asked all at once.

“Oh, Jesus, relax, will ya? It’s not a biggie, for crying out loud! I do it all the time. Everyone does. Here, look at this…” she said pointing to the ground.

I looked down and there were several loose wires where someone had cut the fencing many times before. I looked over at her and watched her snip the taut, star-pronged barbed wire. It bounced back against the fencepost and she gingerly picked it up and moved it out of the path.

“Make sure you move it, though, ‘cause you don’t want the horses to get tangled up. If you come out here by yourself, make sure you carry some wire-cutters. Just don’t do it if you see a city truck or one of the railroad guys out here. If they catch you, they’ll turn you in and you’ll get a ticket,” she said.

Oh, great, I thought. I wondered what would happen if we were caught on the land.

Just as I had the thought, she said, “And if they catch you out here… just act like you didn’t know. And… For God’s sake… hide your wire-cutters.”

Shadrack stood perfectly still while Marcie remounted. I marveled at his patience and had to wonder what was going to happen when I got down off Penny.

“Um, Marcie? I’ve really gotta go. Man, how I wish I hadn‘t had that last cup of coffee.” I said.

“Well, GO!” she said.

“Out here? In the open? No way. Besides, once I get off Penny, I’m gonna need something to stand on in order to get back on.” I said.

“There’s nobody out here. You can just go. Go ahead, I’ll hold Penny and there’s a tree stump right over there that you can stand on. It’s okay… I won’t look.” she said and laughed.

I was uncomfortable with the thought of peeing out in the open but I was getting even more uncomfortable sitting straight up, legs dangling numbly, and my bladder screaming to cut loose its contents. I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt every step, every little bump, every movement… in my burgeoning bladder.

I slid my right leg over the top of Penny’s withers and jumped off. Penny decided it was a good time to lean down and scratch her leg, which made the fall to the ground a little closer and less jarring.

“Hey, good timing. Here, give her to me.” Marcie said.

I walked Penny over to her, pulled the reins over the top of her head and handed them to Marcie.

“K… I’ll be right back.” I said.

“Watch out for rattlesnakes.” she yelled out.

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that there were probably all kinds of snakes, coyote, mice, kangaroo rats, and other crawling, icky, predatory critters running around in this wilderness. Now, I was about to hang it all out and squat vulnerably in their territory.

“Oh, yeah, GREAAAAATTT… Thanks, like I needed to know that!” I said.

I found a semi-private spot and commenced with the purging. As I squatted there, I looked up and noticed something moving in the dirt. A horny toad was meandering along a small dirt trail. I finished up quickly, ran over, and caught it.

I held him carefully and ran back toward Marcie and the horses yelling, “HEY! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!”

I reached up and held it out to her. Just as I did this, wet slid down my arms and sprinkled in my face. Peeing, evidently, is one of their defense mechanisms.

“Oh. My. God.” I said as I wiped my forehead and cheek. “That is SO gross!”

Marcie laughed hysterically.

“Oh, yeah, you think that’s funny?” I said.

“Yeah.” she said laughing. “You are now ‘one’ with the horny toad.”

I rolled my eyes at her and said, “Yeah, well, I’m takin’ him home. Even though he DID just piddle all over me. Bastard.”

I took the reins from Marcie and led Penny to the tree stump. I then realized I would have too many things in my hands and let the horny toad go. He quickly hopped away probably wondering what in the heck just happened.

Annie followed us and when we got to the stump, I noticed that she was breathing hard and her tongue was dripping with saliva. She was hot and thirsty and had been eating Penny’s dust for several miles. I offered her some water, spilling a little on the ground, and she lay right down in the cool of the wet.

“I think Annie’s about had it.” I said.

“Yeah. She’s not used to this. You might have to carry her back.” Marcie said.

“Oh, yeah, right, like, how am I gonna get her up on Penny? Do you think Penny would be alright with that?” I asked.

“Sure. She won’t even notice,” she said.

I’d never seen anyone riding their horse with their dog sitting between their legs and, the thought of it seemed kind of sissy-fied. Most people would just yell at their dog, go on their merry way, and hope the dog eventually made it back home. However, this was our first time out and I’m sure Annie couldn’t find her way back to the ranch. Besides, this was my Annie and there’s no way I would just yell at her and leave her behind.

Annie always went to the beach with me and, when I surfed, she would swim out to me and I’d put her up on my surfboard and we would just sit out on the water; hanging out. People walking along the beach would stop and yell, “Hey, look at that guy and his dog… surfing! “ (I was in a wetsuit and from that distance; you couldn’t tell I had boobs. That’s what I told myself, anyway.) Surfing on a bareback pad on the back of a horse couldn’t be much different than riding the tiny waves at Pismo. Or could it?

I looked at Annie and saw that she was really huffing and puffing. She’s a middle-aged dog, I thought. God, I don’t want her having a heart attack out here in the middle of nowhere. Sissy-fied, or not, she was goin’ up on that horse’s back.

“Okay, I’m gonna try it.” I said.

Marcie held Penny’s bridle and steadied her near the stump. Penny, bored with the entire operation, began eating grass and swatting flies. I could tell she was listening because her ears were back and when I gave Annie a command, she turned to look at what was happening.

“Annie, come.” I said while snapping my fingers and pointing to the top of the old tree stump.

Annie obediently jumped up and waggled for her next command. She loved doing tricks and trying new things and I was about to try on a doozy of a new one. I held her collar and stepped up onto the stump myself. Once there, I picked her up and tried to lift her onto the bareback pad. She wiggled in my arms and turned herself until she was upside down. I flipped her over and thought I was going to drop her but instead, she landed on her feet, on Penny’s back.

“Smooth move, Ex-Lax” Marcie said sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, you try it, smarty-farty.” I retorted.

I continued to hold Annie’s collar and gently jumped up onto Penny’s back. Annie sat between my legs. Penny turned and looked back at the both of us and then shook her entire body to no avail. The bareback pad was holding tight and so was I.

Annie lowered herself down; straddling Penny’s back and got comfortable. I’m sure she was quite glad to be riding versus walking because she was panting heavily and leaning hard into me. I grabbed the reins and a small amount of Penny’s mane to steady myself while gently guiding Penny away from the stump and back onto the trail.

“C’mon.” I said. “Let’s go while the going’s good.”

“What about your horny toad?” Marcie asked.

“I think he has to pee again,” she laughed.

“You carry him. He likes you. He hasn’t peed on you… yet. Nah, not really, I let him go. He belongs out here.” I said laughing.

A hawk circled in the sky above us. More images of my dog, my horse, the Chumash, and me floated before my eyes. I smiled at Marcie.

“You know, this is great.” I said.

Marcie winked at me then kicked Shadrack into a gallop and rode away. As I watched her pull off, I realized that I would remember this particular trail and would make it our daily walk. Marcie was giving me some space to discover and explore and I appreciated it. I put my hand up to cover my eyes from the sun and saluted the hawk as if to say, ‘See you tomorrow, old friend.’

My horse, my dog, and I moved along slowly, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells while memories etched heavily into my mind. There was such a peaceful freedom in riding my horse. I felt connected to everything and everyone in both the present and the past. History lessons floated to the surface of my mind and merged into fantastical stories of “Natalie, Penny, and Annie: The Surfer Cowgirl Adventures.”

We crested the top of the hill and stopped to rest in the shade of a group of trees. You could see the ocean from our vantage point and it was breathtaking. Sitting high atop Penny allowed me to see more than the average view. In fact, I could see from Avila Beach all the way to Oceano. There, in that one spot by the two-trunk oak tree, we found our special place and would visit many times over the next several months. I never took any person to that place; not even Marcie. It was our place: my dog, my horse, and me.

I think Marcie knew about it but never said anything. She was grateful Penny had a good home and was happy to see me grow in my “horsey” knowledge and excitement. She told me later that the look on my face was enough for her. She and I were great friends and went on many, many long rides that included many, many long conversations about life, love, and critters.

There was only one time that we took a ride and so much happened that I vowed I would never drink and ride again.

Every few seconds, her withers twitched in an effort to shake off the flies taking advantage of freshly exposed, dirt-less skin. Her tail swished back and forth, slapping her sides and the top of her butt. Occasionally, she stomped her front legs or picked up one of her back legs as a warning she would kick and flick the offending flies. Each time I ran my hand along her body, she relaxed in a moment of calm.

I picked up the spray bottle and spritzed her with a small amount of fly spray. The flies continued to buzz about but no longer landed on her. It stank but was more tolerable than the flies landing and tickling and eventually biting. I put a little of the spray on my hands and gently wiped it around her eyes and ears. She did not like her ears to be touched but tolerated it. Relief would be brief, maybe for only a couple of hours, but it was a welcomed respite. I sprayed out into the air, closed my eyes, and walked through it to douse myself. The flies were bothering me, too.

I picked up the new leather bridle, plied soft with several applications and rubbings of Lexol, and let her sniff it. She seemed to get excited. I tried to lower her head to put it on but she bobbed her head up and down.

“Shhhh… shhhh… that’s a girl…easy now…” I said softly.

Finally, she settled down and allowed me to slip it over her ears. I adjusted the lengths, properly placing the hackamore and then took the nylon halter off. The reins seemed too long and needed to knotting together. I would wait and do this once I was on her.

I picked up the bareback pad and let her sniff it. Her withers shook with memory while I placed it on her back. I reached under her, grabbed the belt, and began to cinch it up. I noticed her take an automatic breath and hold it. I patted the underside of her belly and waited for her to exhale. Just as she let the breath out, I cinched up the belt as tight as I could. She turned and looked at me so I cinched it just a little tighter.

“It’s bad enough that there’s no place to put my feet. I am not sliding off. Got it?” I said.

She began playing with her tongue and completely ignored me. I rubbed her nose and then grabbed my orange soda and took a drink. She took an interest in the can and wanted to sniff it. I poured a little in the palm of my hand and put it up to her mouth. She sniffed it. I watched as she bared her teeth and I had a moment when I thought she might bite. Then, just as this very thought was worming through my mind, she stuck out her long tongue licked the palm of my hand. Her tongue was hot and soft. She nudged my hand wanting more.

“Oh, you like that? Hehehe… Here ya go, knock yourself out.” I said.

I poured as much as I could into my cupped hand, no longer afraid she was going to gnash it in her gigantic teeth, and she licked it all off eagerly. I wiped my hand on my new wranglers and finished rubbing away the stickiness on Penny’s nose. My Australian Shepherd, Annie, came over and wanted to know about all of the licking. I stuck my hand in her face and she sniffed it and sneezed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” I said with a chuckle.

I turned Penny around until she was parallel to the dressing deck. The deck was about three feet off the ground and just tall enough for me to be able to stand on and then step off onto Penny’s’ back. This was my plan. I wasn’t sure if it was a good plan because if she bucked me off, I’d go flying into the deck versus the ground.

“Okay. Ready Missy? Easy now… easy…” I said as I lowered myself onto her back.

She just stood there swishing her tail as if she’d been waiting for me to get on with it. I sat back, wrapped my legs around her, and gave her a little kick with my right heel.

“C’mon, girl. Let’s go.” I said.

I clicked my tongue and kissed at her.

She threw her head back in protest and almost hit me in the chin.

I kicked her again.

She jumped a little but other than that, didn’t move. I turned her head to the right and kicked her again. This got her going into a short, halted walk.

I was going to walk her up to the barn and then back down to the circular corral. We began up the hill toward the barn and I felt a little bump. She was bucking!

“HAHAHA! She’s tryin’ t’ throw you off goin’ UP hill!” Marcie laughed.

I turned and saw Marcie and Shadrack coming out of his stall. His head was bobbing up and down as he watched Penny bucking up the hill. I held onto Penny’s mane, pulled the reins back and held her head up, leaned back slightly and kicked her hard.

“Get UP! GO! C’mon, Penny… GET UP! HIYAWW!” I yelled.

Penny took off in a short gallop and once we reached the top of the hill, she kicked her back legs up in a half-hearted attempt to toss me off her back. I held on tight and turned her in a circle. I pulled the reins down low and back making her back-up and then turned her in another circle. I kicked her forward and then stopped her abruptly. She started to protest by prancing in place but I kicked her forward into another turning circle. She was starting to get the idea, slowed and stopped when I pulled back.

“Ah, she’s just barn-sour. She’ll be a’right once we get out.” Marcie said.

Barn sour? I’d never heard that term before. I guessed it meant she’d been in the barn for too long but I didn’t keep her in the barn. I kept her in a stall. I felt confused.

“I think she’s stall-sour, Marcie. She doesn’t seem to mind the barn. That’s where all the food is…” I stammered.

Marcie just looked at me and laughed.

I reached down and gave Penny a pat on the side of her neck. She was huffing and puffing but had calmed down enough to stand still. I was trying to catch my own breath as I knotted up the reins. I held on tightly to a mixture of mane and rein. There was nothing else to hang onto!

Marcie and Shadrack trotted up beside us. Penny lurched forward causing me to toddle back and forth on her back.

“You ready? I think you’d better sit forward a little bit or you’re just gonna bounce off. You’re sittin’ too far back for that pad. Try it. Wrap your legs into her sides and stick your feet into her legs. Sit up closer to her withers. Here… let me show you.” Marcy said.

I took her advice and was immediately more comfortable. Marcie swung her leg over and jumped down off Shadrack with the ease of an experienced rider. She walked over and placed my feet closer to Penny’s legs. She checked the cinching on the bareback pad and shook her head.

“Did you slap her belly when you put this on? It’s really loose. It’s gonna slip right off once we get t’ walkin’.” she said.

I felt my cheeks tingle hot in a flush. Marcie had taught me just about everything I knew about taking care of Penny but here I was, finally sitting on Penny’s back, and I hadn’t even tightened the pad properly.

“There.” she said slapping Penny’s underside. “That ought t’ do it.”

“You’ve got those reins too tight. Loosen ‘em up a little or you’ll hold her head too tight.” she said.

I looked down and realized that I’d put a knot in the reins so tightly that I didn’t allow Penny to lower her head. I chalked it up to first time self-preservations and then loosened the knot and gave her some rein.

Marcie led the way through the maze of farming equipment strewn alongside the driveway. We slowly made our way toward her house and had about two hundred feet of unobstructed driveway until we hit the trails behind the ranch. Penny followed Shadrack closely like an experienced trail horse. I didn’t have to nudge, kick, or do anything. She simply… followed.

Annie followed behind Penny, right on her hooves, causing an occasional nick in the chin. It didn’t even faze her although she would sometimes cough from the hoof-stirred dust.

“You wanna try a little run up the driveway?” she asked.

“Okay.” I answered hesitantly.

I guided Penny alongside Shadrack, clenched my legs around her tightly, held onto the reins and mane, leaned forward, and kicked.

“Let’s GO! Hiyaaawww!” I yelled.

Both horses broke into a canter and then a full-out gallop. Annie ran ahead, barking at all of us in her excitement, while trying to stay out of the way of the pounding hooves. I was bouncing all over Penny’s back but doing my very best to keep my legs wrapped around her and not fall off. I learned that if I leaned down closer to her, into her neck, I could hang on better and didn’t bounce around as much. Besides, we were going up hill and the last time we did that, Penny had tried to buck me off. I was hangin’ on!

When we got to the top of the hill, we were both laughing and giggling.

“Not bad, Pahhdnahh.” Marcie said.

I laughed and said, “Damn, that was fun and, um, can we walk until I get the hang of this? I don’t have a saddle horn and stirrups, ya know?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I’m sorry… I guess that was a bit much for your first time without a saddle.” Marcy said.

Marcie turned Shadrack and we began our descent onto one of the many trails leading into Price Canyon. Penny fell in behind Shadrack so closely that she had her nose against his butt. He lifted his tail slightly and farted in her face. Penny acted as if she didn’t even notice but I did, and, whew, what a stink. I waved my hand in front of my face.

“Whoa, Shadrack’s gas powered today.” I choked.

Marcie laughed and pointed to something out in the field.

“Hey, look… deer.”

To be continued…