Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Just Hangin' Out

March 31: Colby's trip to WA

That’s exactly what Colby said to me this morning when I called just before 9, when his interview was supposed to start. He was just “hangin’ out”. At that point it just seemed so absurd that it became laughable.

It’s been a rough day. I have talked to Colby several times and just keep trying to sound like I’m taking it all in stride, that we’ll be okay. That I’LL be okay even if nothing happens out there besides a lovely little visit to the family! In between, though, I’ve been just trying to slow down the rush of frustration and sometimes it falls apart for a few minutes before I can get it back together again.

Ah. All there is to do is just sit and wait. Turns out, in a long and complicated story that almost feels too full of BS to be true, they’ve rescheduled the interview (of sorts) for 1:30 PDT (right now, in other words). So now it is my turn to just hang out and wait. I’ve said the prayers, I’ve fretted and I’ve done my best to be calm and supportive to Colby and not add to his burden or worry.

So I got up off my chair and began working on those darn chores that have to be done. EVERY DAY! lol. It’s not so bad as I make it out to be. I do enjoy it. And it goes quickly now without having to haul water!

Stolen kitty has returned, fat as ever. I do wish she’d come in and be a respectable house kitty. She’d make a nice one, friendly and all, and would have saved me from having to poison the 3 (!!!) mice that took up residence in this old farmhouse this winter. I have a sneaking suspicion that there is another mouse, already deceased, somewhere in a heating duct or something. It’s not pleasant. And probably more information than you wanted to know.

Moving on then. Rayne is feisier than ever, looking for reasons to kick Reb or Bear, even though he’s minding his own business in his own pen. Fancy is still up to her usual antics switching pens at random and showing up one day in Bear’s pen and the next morning in her own. I keep wanting to get brave and just sit on one of them, but now that Baron’s gone I don’t know which one would give me the least trouble, really. Besides that, the last time I sat on a horse since giving birth to 3 children was down right painful. Just to sit there. Forget trying to survive a walk, or.. good lord, a TROT. Ouch. It felt like my pelvis was BROKEN. Maybe now that it’s been almost 2 years all those joints would actually work properly and not have any of that looseness required for birthing those big noggins left over.

It’s really windy today, from the southeast, no less, and the hay is full of alfalfa, so it has a lot of fluff and blows away very easily. By the time I’d carried Fancy’s out to her I was covered in hay. Or, rather, I was FULL of hay. By the time I got back to the house I felt as though someone had been stuffing handfuls of hay down my shirt. And upon further examination, I found that I Looked like that was the case, too! It’s amazing how tiny little pieces of hay can make their way through several layers of clothes to lodge inside of an (ahem) undergarment.

The bunnies seem to be really enjoying the alfalfa. Fancy must be sharing her hut with a nice fat family judging by the signs of it. Hotdog’s gonna have a lovely time this spring hunting them down.

There are only about 2 dozen bales left in the loft, it’s getting pretty bare now, but I think we’ve got arrangements to get 50 more or so to last us through April. I slowed down as I went through the motions in the tack room today and just listened to the sound of my boots on the wooden planks of the floor. I love the way the sound echoes around, the way the boards are rounded and smooth at the edges. The old windows and the cobwebs call to me and remind me that the dreams of girlhood still live there. I didn’t get to grow up with horses and barns, tack rooms and haylofts. But in so many ways, R’s memories are my own. They exist for me somewhere in a bubble of time not really lived. They’ve mixed together, her memories and mine, and have been cut from the fabric of our friendship and been made over into a solid, warm quilt of crazy stripes and log cabins and migrating geese. It’s real in a world where most people think reality is what they see on a tv show. Selective, maybe yes, but I believe done with God’s blessing. She was sent to my life by His hand. For then to show us the better sides of ourselves. For now, to hold each other up through life’s unrelenting roller coasters, celebrate the new, and grieve together for the old. For the future, who knows? I believe He still has reasons beyond our grasp, to be seen just when needed most.

Well, I did get sidetracked from the boring sentiments about the rest of the critters floating around here, but that’s okay. Mostly I just needed to write right now, and I kinda like where it went :)

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

So true, old memories bring back new energy to our present reality.


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