A Walk in the Woods

Photo: WpNature.com

I walk toward peace, a sea of green, an explosion of summer abundance. My footsteps on the path, leading me away from the noise and chaos of my day.

Gradually the sounds of traffic fade, and my path narrows and softens. I see birds, some brown and black; others bright yellow, red, and even blue. they argue back and forth above my head the way birds do. 

The sun filters to the soft forest floor, all shadows and glitter. I feel the warmth on my skin and take a breath. I can feel the tension begin to leave me. Nothing is important here except right now.

A light breeze kisses the back of my neck, raising goosebumps. It whispers in my ear. It says "You belong here". It says "You are home". My soul recognizes that truth.

I hear the brook, water gliding over stone. I send my cares with it, to be washed away and to dissipate. I can hear my breath, and the woods breathe with me. My mind is finally still and calm. I take my time and linger in this healing space.

Eventually I walk home; grateful, renewed and reminded of who I am.

November

Summer is gone. Gone is the warm sand between my toes, the cool embrace of the lake. It ebbed, it flowed, it ebbed again, lost until a different season. Gone are the sun's warmth, deep blue skies, and succulent greens. Gone are the vibrant fields of wildflowers. No more warm summer nights spent laughing and relaxed outdoors with friends. 

Greens replaced with vibrant color, finally succumb to the greys and browns of November. Fields are barren and bleak. Trees stand bare, nothing left but moody shapes and rough textures. They creak and bend as the wind buffets them relentlessly. The wind rattles them like bones; it cuts through my clothes to my very being. 

Yellow light pours through windows, a respite from the cold. Welcome warmth can only be found indoors. The cotton candy evening sky becomes a bruised and faded revenant. It weeps against my windows, all drizzle and sleet. 

But still, only a hint of what's to come.

"Natural" vs. Natural

In my last post I discussed artifice in the horse show world, and what I thought about it (boo!). As always, these posts are my (often well-informed) opinion. Today, I want to talk about the flip-side of the coin; people who take things way too far due to a misguided understanding of what's natural. The woman in the photo is a prime example of the sort of person who makes me headdesk to the point of distraction. The worst part is, though I'm sure she means well, her lack of knowledge and understanding has the potential to cause real harm to the animals she claims to care about, but she and her ilk aren't interested in that. They have an agenda, they're getting kudos and admiration. People (also misguided and misinformed) look up to them. I'm sure it feels good. And who needs facts, because EMOTIONS.

In many ways I'm pretty stoked about the tendency  toward wanting a more natural way of life. I wish it had come sooner. I am personally not well-suited to this new, technological era. I'm adapting and learning because that's the thing to do, but I'm more of an outdoor kitty for sure. As such, it's endlessly amusing to me to watch folks who have never really had any connection to nature and animals talking about what's "natural" for them. First, I will address our friend in the photo: Her sign talks about terrified horses (she's an anti-carriage industry activist), but she's standing in front of a line of relaxed and sleeping horses. I read some of the comments; some of the people talking about how "sad" the horses looked. Honestly, I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants, as did my fellow experienced, horsey friends.  What these folks want is this: All the horses turned out on farms to run free and wild "like nature intended". Sounds lovely, doesn't it? Until five minutes of research reveals that A) All this vast farmland apparently owned by people who live to take in horses doesn't actually exist anywhere, except in their imagination/favorite childhood horse-stories and B) Domestic, working horses were bred (for centuries) to work (including in cities) with people, and don't appreciate endless days of doing nothing in the prime of their lives. Even I have had a horse that resented the hell out of his winter "vacation", and showed his boredom and displeasure by wrecking whatever he could get his teeth on (and yes, he had plenty to eat!). Once summer came and he was back in work, he was back to his lovable self.

What about what's natural? We aren't talking about wild horses here. In fact, very few truly wild horses even exist. For more info on that subject, check out this page: Do Wild Horses Still Exist? Even the American Mustang is considered feral; they are descendants of domestic horses. So we aren't going to bother discussing what's natural for a wild horse, because that is simply irrelevant here. As I stated before, domestic horses have been bred and selected for centuries (at least) to work with humans, and they are very well-adapted and suited to doing just that. THAT is what is natural for a domestic horse. As a horse-person, it's something I'm well-aware of, along with the bond that forms, the love of routine and attention that horses have and the sense of purpose that so many of them enjoy as well. These activists, by failing to grasp even a basic understanding of the domestic horse and what the real animal (not the fantasy-book version) is all about (and being unwilling to learn) are trying to condemn these horses to a life that is actually unnatural for them. Please understand that the carriage industry is one of the best-regulated industries in the world, that the horses have better working conditions than many people, and that pulling a carriage is very light work relative to being ridden. When these horses are ready to retire, they DO go to farms, and they are ready to do so. If you would like to support the well-being of carriage horses, support one of these farms, like this one: Blue Star Equiculture,  that not only acknowledges the ongoing importance of our working relationship with horses, but takes care of them throughout their old age. That's something positive that you can do, something far more productive than standing next to a sleeping horse with a sign that advertises how little you actually know about the subject.

Speaking of domestic farm animals, what is the deal with the anti-farm nonsense I've been reading about lately? I've seen it everywhere: Don't eat meat! Avoid dairy! OMG! Be a vegan 'cause it's NATURAL! First of all, let's acknowledge that nothing in nature (besides humans) feels guilty about feeding itself. We are NATURAL omnivores. More about that here: Humans are Omnivores. Having said that, vegetarianism and veganism are entirely valid choices, especially in our culture where food-availability (ignoring monetary considerations for the time being) is fairly unlimited. If we weren't omnivores though, entire cultures would never have existed or exist currently. That is a fact. I especially have to shake my head when an anti-farmer has a cat or dog, neither of which is a vegetarian animal. A vegetarian diet for a dog is cruel, for a cat it's actually deadly. Where do you think their food comes from? Just throwing that out there. Let me be clear here: I think factory farming is evil, horrible, cruel and many other not-so-nice adjectives. I think it needs to go away. But I support agriculture and family farms. This is what a farm should look like: Maple Wind Farm. If you would like to advocate to put an end to factory farming, I am right there with you. But farming in general? Not so much. Folks with no connection or understanding like to post misinformed nonsense that make me cringe. Just the other day I saw a video of a cow calling out for her calf that had just been weaned. It was supposed to highlight the cruelty of farming, but again, just another example of the sad disconnect that exists. It's a familiar scene to me, both with cattle and horses. Weaning time is traumatic for a couple of days, without a doubt it is. "But in the wild they wouldn't go through that heartbreak!". In the wild, most domestic farm animals would starve to death or be eaten by predators early in the first winter, but let's play pretend: Female animals in the wild are almost always either pregnant or nursing (often both) for much of their life. The weaning of one offspring is usually necessitated by the birth of another, and is facilitated by the mother, often in a not pleasant way. There is more planning and spacing around pregnancy and birth on the farm, so humans intervene. Humans have been taking care of domestic farm animals for centuries, and there are a lot of things that we have to do for them because centuries of domestication have rendered it necessary. FYI: There is no monetary reason for a farmer to prevent a cow from taking care of and nursing a newborn calf, and no monetary gain to be had by having an immune-compromised calf (who didn't get colostrum) either. Just because it was posted on Facebook and it made you feel emotions, doesn't mean that it's true. More emotions doesn't make it more true, either.

Domestic farm animals are just that: domestic farm animals. As omnivores, some of us (meaning humans in general) hunt, some of us farm. Generally speaking we don't jump on a prey animal's back and rip it's throat out with our teeth, but hey, semantics. Domestic farm animals wouldn't survive as wild animals. There are so many things that domestic animals simply can't do for themselves because centuries of domesticity have rendered it unnecessary. I think specifically of bulldogs who can't give birth naturally, and sheep who are in deep doo doo if nobody is around to sheer them, like this guy: Lost sheep. I'm curious: What do the farm-haters think would happen to all the farm animals if the haters got their way? Do you really think farms would exist just to warehouse uber-expensive, high-maintenance pets? If you live in enough of a fantasy land to believe that is actually true, I invite you to do a little research into those possibilities. Understand also, that a rescue is where an animal goes because it's in trouble. It's not a cool place to exist indefinitely, or an alternative to a home. Sanctuaries are in short supply. So fantasy aside, what do you, based on the facts, think will actually happen to the animals? I won't spoil things by answering that for you.

Okay, I've had my say and I would like to apologize for my snippy tone. I actually really love farm animals (especially cows),  I think family farms are da bomb, and I love 4-H kids, the work ethic, the connection to nature (real nature, not disconnected, fantasy nature) that comes with it. I'm disheartened and frustrated by how few people are left with that kind of connection to agriculture, and how often disconnected people spread their own special brand of misinformed manure (not the good kind that's conducive to growth). All I ask is this: If you want to advocate for something, at least make some rudimentary attempt at understanding the reality of it. Don't just jump on board because it elicits an emotional reaction. Understand that misunderstanding can do so much more harm than good.

I have so much more to discuss on this subject, but I'll end it here for now :-)

Animals and Artifice

Photo: enlightenedequine.com

There's been a lot of talk about abuse in the Tennessee Walking horse show world lately. It seems like it comes and goes, but the problems never, ever seem to be solved. By problems I mean specifically soring, stacked shoes, harsh, long-shanked bits and general rough handling that has plagued this (very sweet) breed for what feels like forever. How does this even happen? How do human beings get to a place where they can look at this and participate in it, and not only feel okay about it but defend it? Can we really become so desensitized to the pain and discomfort of another being that is ceases to move us? Of course we can. We do it to each other every day. Some days, reading my Facebook newsfeed makes me feel like a voyeur, watching people engaging in their own personal schadenfreude; insulting, dismissing and dehumanizing others openly. Finding so much joy in the suffering of others by finding justification for it. It's ugly, but it's real. And it's the justification piece that seems to be the basis of the "bad", with money being the primary motivation. I see it with dogs too. You get people together competing with animals in any capacity, and the insatiable human need for "more" and "better" takes over and thing go pear-shaped. If only our species could be more self-aware.

If you know me, you know that my position tends to be pretty moderate. I'm not so "animal activist" that I waste my energy on ultimately pointless nonsense, or on things the animals themselves could care less about. I'm not so over-the-top "squishy" that it's harmful (like farm-haters, Peta, and the idiots who want to ban the carriage industry in NYC, for example), that I have no actual knowledge and no concept of the consequences of my actions. What I have is experience and empathy. What I have is the basic belief that if you are causing an animal pain, emotional distress and physical dysfunction, something is intrinsically wrong with what you are doing. It's common friggin' sense.

I used to ride saddleseat. You probably knew that, but what you may not have known was that I LOVED it! It used to be kind of THE way to ride, especially if you had a Morgan, and I did. It was pure joy, both for me AND my horse. Full disclosure here: I didn't do a ton of showing and I certainly wasn't anything special on any show circuit (my family wasn't 'horsey' so the opportunities were few) but I jumped on every opportunity I had. Back then, only the park-type Morgans had special shoes, and the height and weight were very limited. Most of us stuck to the pleasure division, and it was a perfect fit. We learned how to ride in the best way to help our horse, and we were taught to have very, very light hands. I always remember Morgans being super versatile, and having just enough spring in their step to be kind of cool. I loved the naturally high head carriage too (it made it feel weird to ride the long, thoroughbred-y types later!). And that was kind of the thing~the natural awesomeness of the horse. And that was the emphasis; Morgans were a 'natural' horse, and (with the exception of park horses) it was almost a sacrilege to interfere with that. They were rugged, cheerful and spirited little horses that lived primarily outdoors, well-suited to the harsh Vermont climate, and they worked hard and carried their people all over the place. I used to trail ride like it was my job, and there was no place my Morgan wouldn't take me.

Fast forward to today. I like to poke around on the internet (read:procrastinate) and think about what my next incarnation as "horse owner" would look like. I looked into Morgans, showing and saddleseat. Holy. Crap. The entire scene is unrecognizable, and it's only been about 30 years. All the show horses are being trained with their heads tied back to their saddles (WTF is THAT?!). I'm no stranger to judiciously-applied side-reins and such, but GEEZ. I even saw a photo of a Morgan out on a dirt road "trail riding" (sorry, no) with it's head tied back to the saddle. The pleasure horses don't look much different to me than the park horses, and both are sporting outrageously long hooves. The hunters look like saddleseat horses (long hooves and all) in hunter tack. If you or anybody you know rides actual hunters, it creates a kind of cognitive dissonance that is hard to describe. And the riders are riding (really bad chair-seat) saddleseat in hunter tack, but with really flat hands. I watched a couple of videos of in-hand classes too, to see what they were looking like these days, and it was more of the same; horses with outrageously-high, fixed head carriage, huge muscle development on the underside of their necks (used to be a big no-no) and hollow backs; anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of equine physiology knows that the only way a horse can sustain an unnaturally high head carriage is to drop and hollow their back. It makes the back weak and sore, and it's especially shameful when it's caused by something people are doing. Maybe for the folks who are in it or raised in it it's no biggie. It's something they are used to seeing and I'm sure there are reasons for...all that...that I just don't understand (or want to, really). from the perspective of someone who was away for awhile, it certainly showcases the way things can evolve to an unhealthy extreme.

If you know horses, then you know that one of the most basic necessities of being a horse is mobility. It is what they are physically and psychologically made for. If you take that away by constant stabling and extreme shoeing you are taking away the thing that is of the utmost importance to your horse. To take that away causes an extreme amount of stress (and often ulcers). To a horse, mobility is survival; it's who they are. I don't care how pampered they are in their jail cells, it's still jail. Movement and social contact is what horses want. Being fussed over in a stall where you spend 23 hours of your day doesn't mean sh**. Most people these days are pretty aware of this.

I SO loved the Morgan breed (still do) and after the initial shock wore off, what I felt was crazy-sadness. I wrote to the AMHA and asked if there was a place for folks who used to ride like I did. The (quick and helpful) response assured me that I would fit nicely in the Classic English Pleasure division; that horses in this division were flat-shod, had turn out and went trail riding. I got a little excited, until further exploration turned up videos of  Classic English Pleasure horses in training...with their heads tied back to their saddles. No. Just..no. A WORLD of f***ing NO. The registration numbers are down as are the show numbers, and yet this is the direction that today's stewards of this amazing breed want to go for show horses. To be fair, for folks who aren't interested in the breed shows, the AMHA has a lot to offer, including a program for folks who are entirely non-competitive. They are also really terrific at answering questions, and do so very quickly. That's working. Morgan horses still rock at just about everything, and that's sill working too. But how much better it would be if we were still focusing on what is so great about our horses, instead of trying to shape them into some some sub-par extreme.

Like I said, I loved riding saddleseat. These days, the clothing is SO much more fun and the saddles are SO much better! They are actually grippy and you can move the stirrup bars where you need them! Me and my short legs would have really appreciated that 'back in the day'. It was such a fun and joyful discipline, and I so loved the opportunity to show off my wonderful horse. I bet a lot of folks would enjoy it that way too. Having said that, the number of folks willing to do what they need to do to be successful in the showring in it's current incarnation is (thankfully) dwindling as we learn more about what horses need to be healthy and happy. I would love it if the show horse world would evolve in that direction, and I bet it would draw a whole new crop of enthusiastic showers (and a few of us old ones as well). In my perfect world, horse shows would showcase the wonderful, natural attributes that captured our attention and led us to love our breeds in the first place. Riders would be taught to ride in balance. Shoeing would be something we do to protect the hoof and have nothing whatsoever to do with changing movement (other than corrective). Hoof-length would be determined by natural need and health of the animal. Naturally high head carriage and knee action would be just that, and only ever enhanced by the natural joy and exuberance of the horse itself. Training would build the strength and endurance of the horse, not break it down by forcing it into a specific shape. Standing wraps would no longer be necessary because horses would be allowed to move. No more hollow backs and upside down necks, just well-developed, healthy happy animals moving cheerfully around the ring, representing the REAL best of their breeds, instead of an artificially-enhanced caricature. I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty great to me!

Rainy Day

Photo: newtopwallpapers.com

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain pounding against my bedroom window. I love that sound, even if it means I'll have to walk my dog in the rain. Since living here in town, I've been buffeted by the relentless sounds of traffic. An endless auditory assault. I've learned to always sleep with a fan on to minimize the impact, but it still drives me crazy. I miss falling asleep to the late-night serenade of crickets and frogs, taking turns as the season dictates. Sometimes a coy-dog or two would lend their voice to the concert, an impromptu solo, wistful and lonely. But these are the sounds I am used to, and they were a comfort.

The rain reminds me of that comfort. It belongs. It has always been here, and will be here long after I am gone. Elemental, necessary and right. It is part of what is supposed to be and what has always been. It makes me feel centered and calm, and quiets my mind. I know some who find it depressing, but I resonate with the vibration of the rain.

I put on my clothes to walk my dog, a sun-faded gimme-cap and a hoodie. I put on my sunglasses in spite of the rain, and pretend they render me invisible. I look a bit like the uni-bomber with my hat, glasses and hood, if he were ever to walk a large Doberman clad in a bright yellow raincoat. Dobermans hate the rain.

I like that my mind is able to function on days like this. The soothing, rhythmic sound speaks to my soul and dampens the anxiety. Water beads up on the leaves and grass and imbues them with a bright, inviting succulence. I remember hours spent laying in the grass as a child, studying each blade, and watching ants and rosebugs doing their thing. Sometimes I would catch a toad or a grasshopper and carry it around with me for awhile before releasing it back into it's grassy world. Today, earthworms lay across the sidewalk in my path for me to tiptoe around. I remember days and nights spent digging for worms. Coffee cans filled with dirt and worms, bait for fishing. I miss the world, my world. I miss having something to do on a sunny day, that feeling of ending the day dirty and exhausted and a little bit sunburned. I miss the well-earned golden streaks in my hair that came directly from the sun.

Someday. But for now, I have the rain. An old friend that stays with me no matter the circumstance, and surprises me with "hello" on mornings like this.

Productivity

Photo: desktopbackgrounds.biz

Productivity means different things to different people. Some folks take it uber-seriously, breaking down each hour in the day for some active task or another. Some bosses ride their employees relentlessly to make sure that every minute they pay for is used in service to something. Some people drive themselves, pushing the limits of their own endurance because...well, I guess I don't know why. I think there is something a little masochistic to that mind set. I've had helicopter-bosses too, but not for very long ;-) It's not that I don't handle nagging/whip-cracking/nipping at my heels well, it's more like I don't tolerate it at all. It's the surest way there is to get me to bail entirely.

Don't get me wrong, I will work like a dog and respect deadlines, I can even work like that for awhile for a specific purpose, but I don't do well with someone standing over me. But long-term, it's like, something short-circuits in my brain and all I can think of is getting away. I get all weird and avoidy and NOTHING gets done. I used to think it was strange, because I've observed people with an (apparently) extreme tolerance for this sort of thing, but I've learned it's actually fairly common. Does that make me feel better or more "normal"? Better, yes. More "normal"? Well, that's a whole n'other topic.

My personal productivity peaks when my mind is quiet. Some of the best ideas I've ever had were in those moments when it appeared that nothing at all was happening. Some of the other most productive moments have occurred when I was going for a walk, or doing some easy but repetitive chore (like mucking stalls). My friend Autumn called those moments of brilliance "muckpiphanies" and it's one of the better words either one of us has made up (and we've made up a few!). I NEED that quiet. without it, I can do nothing. For me, being busy is not at all the same as being productive. For me, it's the quiet that's important.

It's something to keep in mind as I look forward to some of my fondest wishes coming true. I'm grateful for the time between being able to acknowledge the possibilities, and the actual manifestation. I feel like it's not an "if" but a "when" (when, oh WHEN?), and I feel it in my bones. I know that feeling, and I know what it means. So what do I want? Home, of course. But a home that's not a chore-factory. I will never be okay with spending an entire weekend devoted to mowing the lawn. That's just stupid, unless you LIKE mowing. I HATE it (probably because of all those weekends devoted to mowing the lawn!). I will never want a house so big it takes me all day to clean it. I simply don't see the point. What do people do with all that space, anyway? And for me, a lot of space would just make me paranoid. I write HORROR. My brain can conjure up all manner of things hiding in various corners. Do people get big houses to collect belongings? Why? I kind of like the idea of getting a few quality things (or even better, having them made) and then take really good care of them. Like, forever. To hell with what's fashionable. I'm not fashionable. It's not something I think much about. I just like what I like. And how much stuff does a person need? I will admit, I rent a storage space. I rent a space for us, and a space for my stuff. It would seem really stupid to me, but my storage contains outdoor furniture that my grandfather made. it doesn't work in my teeny apartment, but I won't let it go either. Okay, so THAT I get. But otherwise, what's the point?

I always thought I wanted so much but as it turns out, home and a horse would get it done. Lots of folks have both. I (we) deserve to as well. For some, a horse is not a want but a need. That's what keeps me productive and moving forward. Sometimes, when results are less tangible, or time goes by and I feel like I have to take everything on faith, I keep those basic needs in mind. Then I try to find some quiet moments to be productive, and lose myself in the (mostly) peaceful world of the story I'm working on.

Games I Don't Play

Photo: www.facebook.com/kristelsmartsbooks

My daughter wants me to date. Okay, if I'm being perfectly honest, I've even been lectured by people who barely know me about how important it is to "find that person". I get it, I hear it, but I guess I'm not sure how to fulfill that wish for them. I'm happy alone, genuinely happy. I think I used to believe in the importance of that other person too, once upon a time, but years and experiences change a person. Even so, I'd be open to the idea if I could find a human being who was looking for a human being, to relate as human beings. I'm an Aquarius. That doesn't just make me odd, it means that friendship is the most important thing to me. It means if someone can't connect with me on a mental level and be my friend, it just doesn't work. Astrology aside, that really IS the magic formula for me. And brains are HOT. Seriously.

What's the difference between a friend and a boyfriend? Think about that for a minute; think about the difference between how a person would relate to one vs. the other. It would take a man bordering on magical (Yes, magical. That's exactly right.) to get that difference and even more so to find it appealing. I'm not saying friendship as in a platonic sort of friend-zone friendship, I mean a relationship based on two people actually liking each other as equals, respecting each other, on a human level. It doesn't sound like much, maybe, especially to folks who are happily enmeshed, but for me that connection has been as illusive as Bigfoot. And hey, at least Bigfoot leaves footprints and such to allude to his existence.

I'll admit that growing up in rural Vermont is enough to leave anyone jaded in the dating department. It can be a place where scantily-clad women draped over motorcycles (gross) are actually considered an appealing choice. I have actually had someone say to me "You're pretty, you don't need to be smart" and they were sure it was a compliment. I suppose in a land of cave-dwellers it might be, but in the world where I live (which, admittedly, is somewhere between Shangri-La and Middle Earth most days) it is disrespectful, marginalizing and attempts to diminish the light that dwells within us all regardless of gender. And therein lies the other half of the problem: The way I want to be seen also tends to be the same filter I look through when I see others. I don't even want to begin to tell you how much "bad" has resulted from that situation. It's one thing to strive to always see people as their best incarnation of self, quite another to do so with reckless and hopeful abandon, and a lack of common sense. Yeah, I'm over that. I take full responsibility for my part in the resultant issues there, but will admit to a learned-reluctance to engage because of it. And I haven't seen the need. I also have zero-tolerance far all things patriarchal and misogynistic. And why wouldn't I? I have had to do EVERYTHING alone, and now I'm going to let someone step in and direct how I live my life why? Some guys really frown on that, but they aren't the ones who are for me, anyway. So now we have what? A magical and very secure guy? Hmm.

I'm on a trajectory. I have this very clear picture of where I want to go and I'm working very hard to get there. Do I even have the energy to date anyone? I don't know. The right person could be worth the distraction. But I don't have the energy for games, or for the nonsense I've already dealt with. I'm not going to fight with someone to be who I am, and I'm not going to apologize either. The right person would understand that being an important part of my world does not necessitate monopolizing my time and attention. He would also know that I like shiny things, but that a really neat rock collected from a river just for me would mean more to me than something polished and expensive. That I prefer the joyful, upturned faces of sturdy sunflowers to the ephemeral and exotic beauty of orchids. My favorite sounds are of wind through the trees, the rolling of a river and the steady sound of hoofbeats on a dirt road. The moon and the stars are more beautiful than any city skyline; and silence, long and comfortable, can be the most meaningful form of communication.

I know exactly what you're thinking: I should probably just look for Bigfoot. Hey, you never know. Bigfoot might actually find me :-)

Home

Photo: www.simplypsychology.org

Things have been pretty righteous lately. It's sort of proving the rule that where you look, you're likely to end up. Fortunately for me, the last few years have been fueled largely by a disproportionately ambitious set of expectations. And you know, things seem to be headed pretty much in the direction I had envisioned. Who knew? All this time I thought I was being realistic, when it turns out that it's UNREALISTIC goals that get the job done. Cool beans.

So what's it really all about? For me the thing I want most is home. I always thought my sister and I would be old ladies together, living in quaint, adjacent houses, planting gardens, having horses and sitting on the front porch shelling peas (which for some reason I can't quite remember I've always called "hucking") while gossiping without malice about the goings on in our universe. Interestingly enough, my sister wants that too. It's a life we were once able to take for granted (well, not the 'old' part so much), and neither of us has ever really felt at home since. The irony? We tried it once, and failed miserably due to unforeseen (and ghostly) circumstances. I wrote a book about this utter failure, and it may just be the proceeds from this book that gives us the opportunity to try again. Karma is a funny thing. Okay, sometimes Karma is funny in a way that's NOT so funny, but sometimes it has a twisted sense of humor that is legitimately laughable.

If anybody in this world deserves to have some good home-related Karma come their way, it's my sister and me. After we lost our original home, it has been one series of crazy events after another re: our housing. We have been through ghosts, ice storms, flooding out, rats, mice running over the silverware, irresponsible/uncooperative/unpredictable exes, flaky roommates, a tornado, people simply changing their minds about renting, near-misses around home ownership, homelessness (yes, twice), irrational land-people (I had one fellow tell me I couldn't have boys over. I was in my 20s), insane rules followed out of desperation, and generally a constant and unwavering sense of threat in one form or another around housing. Oh, and let me make clear that this was all due to no fault of ours.

If you will refer to the little chart above, you will see that shelter is relatively important, especially if you'd like to do something with your life besides worry about shelter. And hey, I don't know about you, but I totally would!! And it's looking like the day when having some real choice around this issue might be sooner than I originally anticipated. So what does home look like?

Well, first of all, see above re: old ladies hucking peas. That's part of it. Gardens, land, horses...that's part of it too. But what home really feels like is a place to call mine, to finally put down my roots again. Home means not being at the mercy of others for your most basic of needs, not ever having to worry or wonder if/when the rug will be ripped out from under you. That last is really hard to describe to those who haven't experienced it, but is perhaps the most compelling.

Home is a fenced yard for my dog, a porch to sit on and watch the rain, the smell of flowers and freshly-mowed grass. It's a sense of belonging that can't be threatened. It's everything.

New Year's Revolutions

Photo: www.birthdaydirect.com

I don't how I feel about the idea of New Year's Resolutions. I have a pretty good record with them; last year I resolved to get my book published and I did. But I don't like the implication that I have to change something about myself because something is wrong with me, and I have to be particularly resolute about it because well, it's January 1st, dammit. It reminds me a little bit of Lent. I feel kind of guilty if I don't give something up and eat fish on Fridays. It's a thing. The reality is, I have nothing to give up. I already quit smoking several years ago, and coffee isn't optional. But as a woman of a certain age, I do particularly appreciate that all my junk email assumes (naturally!) that I'm desperate to lose weight and to sort out my wrinkles via some miracle cream, creme, serum, etc.

Newsflash, junk-email generators: My resolutions tend to run on a deeper level. The things I would really like to sort out have nothing whatsoever to do with my lumpy little body or my (well-earned!!) wrinkles. I am happy to share these things publicly, and in fact have an innate sort of belief in the idea there's magic in sharing. There's power in words and intentions, and if you put them together and make them public, it leaves room for possibilities that may otherwise just be a wistful sort of inner longing that never amounts to much.

My resolutions this year are all about resources. For starters, I would like to develop some better inner-resources. I'm not a "people person", or an extrovert, and I'm not going to be. I'm okay with that. But like many sensitive people who have been emotionally sucker-punched a time or two (thousand) too many, I tend to avoid all-things-emotional. It doesn't mean I don't feel or don't care (for those of you who openly enjoy harboring that delusion), but quite the opposite. When things get emotionally intense it's overwhelming and I panic, which manifests outwardly as logical objectivity (weird, right?) or me actively running away. Like sometimes literally. Also weird. I know I'm at an age where most of the people I deal with should have the maturity to not emote forcefully at people, but it's not always the case. I think there's some erroneous belief that forceful emotions will somehow get through to me, when in reality the opposite is true. This year, I would like to work on my response and my ability to cope with this sort of thing. I realize that the behavior of other people is really about them, but it still really gets to me in a "please pass the Klonopin" sort of way, and that means it's having a toxic effect on me. It would be much more helpful if, instead of shutting down or running away (or taking Klonopin), I could simply ask that people use their words like grown-ups. THEN I could feel okay about exiting the situation until that is possible. Maybe I could eventually be less avoidy, and more comfortable in social situations? Crazy, right? Something to work on, anyway.

But it's not just the inner-resource thing I'd like to deal with. I have been given a perspective in the last several years that I never would have had just based on my upbringing. I had no idea how sheltered I was or how little information I really possessed about the world around me, and would have remained blissfully ignorant had I not been through hell myself. I used to believe that people who struggled financially were lazy, or that they brought it on themselves somehow. That life is all about the choices we make for ourselves, and if we're struggling it's our own damned fault. Personal experience has taught me that that viewpoint is, well, a crock of sh** if I may be blunt. Perpetuating this fallacy amounts to abuse of the most vulnerable people, and yet it remains acceptable in some circles.  Sometimes, doo doo happens that is beyond our control and it's outright hubris to believe otherwise. Now that I know better, I can't help but believe that I went through all that for a reason, and I resolve to work hard enough to have the resources and the position to do something about what I know. The idea drives me. The idea that I might someday be able to do something tangible to help, inspires me. How? I don't yet. But the book is feeling like a good start. It could have a decent run and fade into obscurity.  Or, it could inexplicably (with a bit of a nudge) go viral and get made into a movie. Who knows. That's the cool part: Anything is possible, and the odds are much more favorable than buying a lottery ticket. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like the best days are behind me. I have faith in my future. I want more people to feel that. There's no bad there.

Okay, and the rest of it is to be expected, I suppose. I want "home". For me, that means roots, both literally and figuratively. Something that's mine. And a horse. Always a horse.

So, I won't be buying a gym membership anytime soon, or purchasing some kind of $20 melon-based facial-miracle-in-jar, but I suppose if that's what you're into it's okay. It's just not for me.

Thank you for reading! Wishing you ALL a joyful, successful and HAPPY 2014!

Morgan Horses and Making Due

Photo: Jane Kennedy O'Neil

When I'm stressed out I like to think of 'other' things; things that are far removed from all that's worrisome. I think about horses a lot. I always have. In one form or another, horses have been a bastion of strength and protection against the intrusion of life's occasional unpleasantness. There's something about a horse that makes us more than we are. They offer us their friendship (if we allow them to) and lend us their power and speed. There's something in the spirit, the soul of a horse, that connects with the soul of a human being in a way that is unique and special. When I feel cursed with the absence of this connection, I need to remind myself what a blessing it is to know such a bond and to have the capacity to experience it so fully. I don't have a horse right now, but I will again. It's not something I hope for, but something I know on a soul level. My connection with horses is my connection to the 'real' world, the source of my strength and my greatest passion. People like me don't thrive without horses.

I'm filling my horseless days ruminating about my next horse. Who will he be? What do I want to do? It is natural for me to immediately assume I will look for a dressage horse, and that would be fine. But the idea of spending all or most of my time in an arena makes my insides feel restless and squirmy. Yes, I would like to do some showing. I didn't get to do nearly enough of it as a child. There's still an itch there. But I also fantasize about dirt roads, corn fields, miles of trails through the woods. I remember seeing the world through pointed ears, an explosion of fall color, the soothing, rhythmic sound of my horse's footfalls, the sharp aroma of leaves and refreshing fall air. I'll never get tired of that, and as a child that is what I loved the most. My sister was always right there too, a ready riding buddy who shared my enthusiasm. Our farrier used to comment on the wear of our horses' shoes; they could never be reset because the daily mileage had worn them so thin. We would ride in all weather, getting caught in the rain more than a time or two. We rode bareback as a matter of habit; youth is fearless with an effortless balance and agility. Back then I had a Morgan.

I hadn't considered a Morgan again until recently. But why not? My show-trained Morgan was up for everything I was into and well suited for it too. Isn't a Morgan a natural choice? They are beautiful, strong, sensible, versatile, respectful of those who respect them. They have energy to burn and endurance to spare. You get an awful lot of horse for a fairly reasonable amount of money (exceptionally reasonable when compared to the cost of a warmblood) .When I was a child the good Morgan ads read like this: "Morgan for sale, rides and drives, excellent family horse, old (fill in blank) lines". As it turns out, that's still largely true. As a Vermonter, not only are these the 'horses of my people' but they are everywhere. That's kind of awesome. How great it would be to actively seek out the right horse for me as an adult, knowing what I know now and participating in the process. I look forward to that day with anticipation :-)

When I was a child, each horse that I had was a stroke of luck. Each foible was a lesson learned the hard way. I think about how children learn about horses today. How different everything is! I am so grateful for my daughter's experience with Pony Club, and I highly recommend it. Pony Club doesn't just produce pretty riders, but real horse people who know as much about safety and the care of their horse as they do about riding. It seems these days that many children are being taught to ride but know nothing else. They have to have perfect footing in their well-tended arenas, the most fashionable tack and clothing, and a coach at their side for everything they do. I think it's sad. Those children are missing out on a lot. It's hard to have a real relationship with an animal that you don't understand, that you have relegated to nothing more than a competition vehicle. Without that relationship the best part of the experience is lost.

My sister and I didn't take a lot of lessons. The ones we took we paid for ourselves with money we saved from birthdays, Christmas, mowing the occasional lawn. We didn't come from a horsey family so lessons and showing weren't a priority (or at least not a priority to those who held the finances!). We were very fortunate to have the horses at all. After years of begging, we started out with free-leased ponies from a local summer camp. My grandfather had put up a fence and built a barn and run-in, and that's what we had from that point on. After having more free-leased ponies and horses than I can count, my family finally purchased two horses. Kudos to my Mom here; she was a single, non-horsey parent and we had horses. That in and of itself was impressive.

Most of our education was provided by horsey neighbors, working at the summer camp (if we got all the chores done, we could RIDE! Thank you Mom for getting up early to fed us breakfast; thank you Papa for all the rides to the farm!) and a pretty terrific 4-H leader. This same woman helped my Mom find our horses and helped us to get set up with tack. I mentioned that my Mom was not a horsey person. So it is really no surprise that she bought us a saddle (yes, one for us to share) from an ad in the paper for $50. I think we even tried to use it, but it was pretty scary. I think it was a polo saddle, and part of one of the panels was missing. Eventually the torn stirrup leathers went to shoe repair to get sewn back together. This is when our 4-H leader stepped in and helped out :-) It couldn't have been easy to buy our nice tack and it was done piece by piece.

When we took our lessons, my sister and I had to ride to the local park and use an outdoor hockey arena as a riding ring. My sister had her saddle before I had mine (the first saddle just fit her horse better) so the instructor would kindly bring her saddle for me to use during the lesson. We thought nothing of this, it was just the way it was. We eventually participated in horse clinics at the local fairgrounds. I remember my saddle arriving by bus the day before the clinic started. I was SO EXCITED to get my new saddle (I had never had my very own saddle before!). I was beside myself. My wonderful Morgan took all the strangeness of the clinic environment in stride and performed beautifully so I could focus on my riding. All my friends were there, we got to sleep in tack rooms and we were able to focus on nothing but horses for a whole weekend! The clinics were awesome.

We eventually did some showing, but our participation at shows was limited by our lack of transportation. We could often hitch a ride with friends if they were going, but it didn't happen nearly enough for me. It didn't matter to my horse though. His lifestyle had changed completely when he came to live with us. He was living the life of a mere backyard pleasure mount. But when he entered the ring he became a different horse. He knew his job and he strutted his stuff like he had never been away. Perhaps that is one one of the things that fascinates me the most about Morgan horses. Some interpret versatility as an ability to perform in different tack. The truth is, horses aren't terribly mindful about the style of tack we choose for them. It's really only important to us. But the versatility of my Morgan was an adaptability in his performance, an understanding of what is needed in a given moment. This horse who would take me calmly down the trail (and through the occasional frog-pond) knew when and how to 'turn it on'. I always felt so proud of him in those moments, and the smile I wore in the show ring was genuine.

That's what I need. I need a tough, flashy little fellow who's up for anything. So why not a Morgan? Why not an animal I have a long history and share a kinship with? Why not the 'horse of my people'? It's certainly something worth considering. Thank you for joining me on this trip through memory lane :-)

New and Old

Photo: www.naturalhorseworld.com

 First off, let me apologize for the lapse between the last post and this one. I went off on a related 'research tangent' that was productive and encouraging, and then I actually focused on getting some real work done. All in all, a productive time period. But here without further ado, my latest bit of wool-gathering:

I have spent my holiday perusing the internet for interesting horse info. It's hard to surf properly without running into lots and lots of info on "Natural Horsemanship", the barefoot 'movement', and riding bitless. I may date myself here a bit, but all of this info is new to me and some of it is making for some very interesting reading. I realize that none of this is terribly relevant to my life as it exists currently, but I am a horse person by nature and plan to have horses again as soon as finances permit. I poke around online to stay current and because it's really the only way to get a good horse-fix these days.

Okay, first of all let me make clear that, as a middle-aged woman who has ridden nearly since infancy, I am most familiar (and therefore most comfortable) with a more classical school of thought when it comes to horses. By classical, I mean the slow and steady bringing along of a horse though humane and methodical training, at the speed that makes sense to the individual horse. Of course, the definition and detail are much more complex than my simplified definition, but most people who ride and compete in 'English' sports know what I am talking about (whether they themselves are interested in adhering to classical principles or not). I won't say that I am an expert by any means and have found myself blessed by the help of friends who are much more capable than I, but the point is the same. In my view, correct training has always been humane training that takes the needs and nature of the horse into consideration. I have always been surrounded by people who felt the same. So what of "Natural horsemanship"?

I have never attempted it in practice. I know some folks who swear by it, and I know 'classical' trainers who are frustrated to no end by having to re-train horses who have been ruined by badly-done "Natural Horsemanship". I don't believe any system can be judged by the results of those who f*** it up though, but I guess that goes two ways. I have seen some pretty horrible riders trained in the classical method too (okay, admittedly most of them have been spoiled brats who's mommy and daddy bought them an expensive "toy" that they know nothing about, other than how to ride it around a ring and make it jump) but I know that, done correctly, it's a humane system that works. I think as long as it gets the job done kindly and the results are good, then why not? For some equine-enthusiasts, "Natural Horsemanship" IS the reason they ride. That's cool. I know folks who have a traditional background who incorporate NH to add something new and fun, and they do so with great results. I won't comment on western riding here because I am the first to admit that I know nothing about the western disciplines, but a lot of western folks seem to be really into NH. The one thing that does seem strange to me is that NH folks don't seem to do a ton of riding. I haven't seen a lot of NH folks participating in equestrian sports, at least not that I'm aware of. Is that a 'thing'? Again, I'm no expert.

Next on my confuzzlement list is riding bitless. Even from a traditional perspective, I totally get the appeal here. Less is more in the horse world (or more accurately, more training and skill means less need for gadgets), and it has always broken my heart to see a heavily bitted horse with his head tied down and his mouth gaping open. Even in the dressage ring, it is not uncommon to see an absolutely ridiculous amount of contact coupled with a tight noseband. In fact, both of those things make me NUTS and ruin my experience as a spectator. I would love to see riders in both the aforementioned camps lose their bit-privileges until they learn to ride with some compassion. I especially hate to see upper-level riders hammering on a double bridle. By the time you reach that level, you should know better. I rode saddleseat as a child. A CHILD. My horse wore a very potentially-severe double bridle, but instead of the crank-nosebands used by some of today's dressage riders, all we had were thin, decorative, pinned-ring cavessons. Even so, you never saw one of our horses with a blue tongue or a gaping mouth. I miss having the balance and finesse I used to have. I'll freely admit here that I am no longer a pretty rider. I am old and lumpy and waaaay out of shape. Just wanted to put that out there :-) Even so, I can work hard to be a good rider again when the opportunity presents itself, which is sort of the point. A bitless-bridle is something I could get behind. I spent some time checking out this site: The Bitless Bridle  Once I got past the very-strongly anti-bit stuff and the occasionally obnoxious marketing, I found that I really liked Dr. Cook and understood why riding bitless could be a good thing.

It certainly made sense to me that a horse would prefer not to have something in his mouth, especially if that something is attached to an unsympathetic pair of hands that treats it like an emergency brake or something to balance on. I tried to find folks who are sport-oriented who utilize bitless bridles, and there are a few of them. Perhaps my favorite is here: Uta Graf/Le Noir, bitless dressage Oh Uta, if only you were wearing a helmet! Oh well, She is still awesome. There seems to be a lot more folks out there using them on very old, or pet horses though. Lots of pics of helmetless people hugging ancient horses who are half asleep. There is merit here and I don't wish to discount anyone who has and loves their horse and wants to provide them with a positive experience. I just think that it would be nice if these bridles were more commonplace among sport-people (specifically the above-mentioned "brats"). It's certainly something I would consider, though they aren't allowed in dressage competition. Even so, I would imagine that much discomfort could be prevented in training if  a bitless bridle were used most often. Something to ponder...

Perhaps the most intriguing thing I've discovered is the idea of keeping a horse barefoot. I can't even begin to post links to all the info out there about barefoot hoofs and all the schools of thought around this type of horse management, but I will admit the scientific information is certainly compelling. If your experience is primarily with sport horses (with the exception of endurance) the idea might be crazy-foreign. But check out this perspective from world-class dressage-folks: Barefoot Dressage with Shannon Peters  This is something worth a try too, under the right conditions. I probably would always feel safer sending my daughter out on a cross-country course knowing there are studs in her horse's shoes, but for dressage? There are pretty terrific hoof-boots out there too. Again, not allowed in the dressage ring (the thing I love about dressage is also the thing I dislike about it: it's so darned fussy!) but one could always do what the Peters did, or opt to use a glue-on shoe for competition until the horse is reliably comfortable on all surfaces. I think I will always be the most comfortable with a farrier who also does barefoot trims as opposed to someone who is trained specifically as a trimmer because I have so much respect for the farrier-trade and faith in experience. I have noticed that many farriers here in Vermont actually do both. That is cool!

I would encourage horse people to maybe not just stick to the status quo. By all means, adhere to your principals, but at least consider exploring some of the new stuff that's out there that can actually function to enhance the old stuff you already know about. I'm am trying very hard to keep an open mind. If you know me, you know how tough that can be. I am also not entirely sold on the idea of  "natural" anything that involves us working with horses, as there is nothing natural about that from the horse's perspective, horses know we aren't horses, and I think we will do better by both the horses and ourselves by being confident and benevolent human leaders. BUT developing an understanding of the horse's nature and the physiological functions of all his parts is not a bad idea. No surprise there, but here's a newsflash: I am considering trying competitive trail in my next phase of horse-ownership. Is that crazy? I love dressage, SO much, but sometimes the idea of camping with my horse and riding through beautiful (and sometimes not beautiful) country just sounds so...liberating! What do you think?

Cultivating Abundance

Photo: www.organicveggiestarts.com

I read an article a couple of days ago about a Vermont family who farms with Fjord horses. I couldn't help but think "Wow, what a great life that must be". It has been buzzing around my noggin ever since. As always, the question "what if?" kept rolling around my head as it so often does and it's lead me to a strange and seemingly random thought: What if I wanted to do organic farming with horses? On the surface, the idea seems a bit crazy. But the more I think about it, the less crazy it appears. I know that part of this train of thought (and the randomness of my new obsession HAS hit me a bit like a train) is that my daughter and I struggle to eat healthy. The healthier we eat, the more we struggle with bills and we STILL aren't eating the way we would like to. Poor diet has damaged us both, though not yet irreversibly: I have type 2 diabetes and my daughter is pretty severely iron deficient. NOT cool. The problem isn't knowledge or portion control. The problem isn't that we like to eat crap--we don't. The problem for us has been the cost of healthy food. I know that's pretty ridiculous in this country, but food insecurity is a very real problem for many families and getting worse all the time.

And that's not the only problem. I'm feeling more and more scared and paranoid about where our food is actually coming from. Monsanto continues to do what it does, despite the mounting evidence that GMOs can and do cause significant health problems. Unfortunately for the majority of folks in this country (myself included) the farm subsidies that this agricultural giant continues to enjoy mean that they are the only affordable option. Not cool.

I have had little gardens in the past (though I can't here in my fourth-floor apartment!) and have really enjoyed and appreciated being able to go pick myself a fresh salad whenever I felt like it. I have grown everything I like at one time or another (thanks to my grandparents who turned me on to gardening) and there's something very satisfying about the work. It's kind of funny, really. I'm germ-phobic and bugs freak me out, but I have no problem at all with getting my hands garden-dirty and picking bugs off plants. It's like I go into a zone. It's very similar to the kind of zone I went into when I was cleaning stalls: I (and my friend Autumn) called the flashes of brilliance that occurred during stall-cleaning "Muck-piphanies" and well, I kind of miss them. I tried to replicate the same sort of conditions with walking, but there are just way too many people around to really get 'in the zone' and I ended up doing this to myself (oddly enough, I have cleaned stalls with lots of people around too, and it wasn't at all bothersome. Horse people are different: We would either all be in a zone, or engaged in easy, pleasant conversation). Add to that the weird limbo-like disconnect that I've been struggling with; it makes the idea of getting up with outdoor, physical work to do every morning sound especially appealing.

When I moved to town, I thought I would appreciate how easy things were. I thought I would like to have the chance to sleep in, to not have the constant pull of things needing to be done. I thought that the time and space would help my writing, and that the proximity to people would provide me with a sense of security that I felt I lacked in the boonies. Financially, I NEEDED to do this and the financial pressure was significantly relieved for awhile. But this isn't who I am. All I've done since I've lived here is fantasized about having horses again, getting my hands dirty and seeing stars unencumbered by the lights from town. I miss hearing the friggin' crickets and frogs. I will admit that I did feel a bit more secure for awhile, but then my neighbors started selling drugs and shooting at each other and that tiny bit of security that I felt disappeared. My writing didn't flourish (though I did finish a book and start another): I struggle like crazy with focus--a problem I didn't have when I had fresh air and physical work to do. And do you know that I haven't really 'slept in' once? I guess I'm just not wired that way.

Initially, I tried to talk myself out of even thinking about this. It would require major life-changes and quite a learning curve. I know how to work with horses, though not for farming. I know how to grow vegetables, but not what is involved in growing certified organic vegetables on even a small commercial scale. Perhaps the biggest obstacle appears to be start-up costs. I did a quickie internet search with this in mind, and found an obscene number of grants and resources available for organic farm start-ups. It lead me to do a quick market analysis which indicated a HUGE demand that appears to be an upward-moving trend.  What if?

What if I were able to procure a grant and buy a small farm? What if I rented part of it to a farmer committed to humanely raising grass-fed beef? What if this farming-partner was willing to do the things I really hate about farm life (haying and mowing) and all I had to worry about was growing great vegetables? What if I decided to add raspberries and blueberries? Maybe some eggs? What if I could use my horses and land to sustain myself and feed others?

I am very well-aware of my tendency to chase rainbows. I also know that I continue to chase them because doing so has been reinforced by varying degrees of success. I have learned a lot this way, and am ready and willing to learn more. Right now, I'm going to sit with this for a bit and treat it like a research project. Maybe the research will turn into a business plan, and maybe it won't. In the meantime though, it is certainly an interesting idea:-)

Product Review: Cozy Horse Dog Coats

Dober-model Desi in a polar fleece snood

This review has been a long time coming. I actually discovered this awesome company a couple of years ago, quite by accident. I was walking my dog down the street one cold winter day, when a couple in an SUV pulled over to talk to me. They had an adorable dober-girl in their back seat, and they just wanted to say "hello" to a fellow dobe-enthusiast. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing has happened, nor would it be the last. Dobes are not common in my area, and the folks who are owned by them love to meet others. This chance meeting brought with it a bonus: My dog was wearing a coat that didn't really fit and wasn't exactly warm enough for our Vermont winters, so these folks gave me their recommendation; a company called Cozy Horse

They took the time to show me their Cozy Horse Dober-coat and I was instantly sold. It was warm and well-made, and even had a hole for the D-ring on their dog's harness. A new coat wasn't exactly in the budget, but these folks assured me that Cozy Horse was reasonably priced and well worth it. I decided to check it out.

As my friends know, I am fussy about exactly two things: dog stuff and horse stuff. When I looked at the site(s) (Cozy Horse has an Angelfire Site too) I was blown away by all the options and choices; even more so by the affordability of Cozy Horse products: not cheap, but certainly reasonable and actually rather exceptional for what you're getting. As the name implies, Cozy Horse makes horse blankets. I am used to purchasing dog coats from horse blanket companies so I wasn't surprised that they also offered dog coats. My usual experience has been fairly mixed; the dog coats are usually made out of the same durable materials as the horse blankets, but the fit has often ranged from adequate to unbelievably wrong. One company made a coat in size extra large that looked as though it MIGHT fit a 40 pound dog, another made a size medium that my 98 pound dog could swim in. Needless to say, I have often been a bit disappointed in dog coats made by horse blanket companies. But here is where Cozy Horse is far beyond superior: they are a CUSTOM company.

Custom made for a Saluki customer...wow!

After some easy, prompt and pleasant correspondence with the company's owner, Claudia Jones, I was ready to place my first order. I measured Murphy carefully and picked out all the specs in my usual compulsive manner. I like to dress Murphy in purple, but because he's a boy I thought two-tone (with black) might be more manly; horseblanket-style straps meant I wouldn't have to worry about Murph peeing on a strap, and just a bit of reflective piping made us a bit more visible on a dark winter evening. This coat featured a medium-weight fill and a smooth taffeta lining. I also ordered a black polar fleece snood for those really cold days when Dober-ears are especially vulnerable, and a fleece-lined, reflective martingale collar, also in purple and black. We were good to go.

I expected a longer wait than the three weeks it actually took for my custom order. I was already very impressed with both the service and the turn around time, and I hadn't even opened the box yet. When I did, I found my beautiful new items wrapped in purple tissue paper with some business cards and dog treats. It was like an early Christmas:-) I was so impressed by how well made everything was; the materials were great quality, the stitching was careful and even. Everything was exactly what I wanted and fit perfectly. It was a unique and wonderful retail experience:-)

These folks make everything "dog": Great collars, service dog vests, donation dog vests, tug toys, coats of all types and configurations and much more. The possibilities for customizing these items are almost endless too, no bulk order required. After my initial purchase, I realized the need for both a rain coat (bright yellow, of course, with reflective piping) and a fall-weight fleece (in soft grey). I was equally pleased with both of these purchases, so of course when it was time to buy a fundraising vest, I went back to Cozy Horse. Once again, I found myself impressed by the quality and attention to detail, apparent even in something as simple as a donation dog vest.

Murphy, happy and warm in his custom coat

I have long been in search of a good dog coat company. My doggy-life began with greyhounds. Their lean bodies and sparse coats mean that buying a coat for them is not optional, but necessary. Their unique shape also presented a fitting challenge. Back then (almost 20 years ago) people simply didn't 'dress' their dogs for any real purpose and after searching high and low and only finding fru fru clothing (?!) for small dogs, I ultimately ended up making my own, notably NOT fru fru, dog coats. And they were...okay. As the popularity of greyhounds as pets (and the internet) soared, so did the number of dog coat companies that catered to this unique breed. But of course the coats were crazy-expensive. Even so, I succumbed and bought my hounds nice coats. Then I became involved with Dobermans and the search began all over again. I spent a lot of money on "adequate" and "not-quite-right", unfortunately.

There is a misconception that "tough dogs don't need coats", but it IS a misconception. A single-coated dog simply does not have the ability to keep itself warm in cold temperatures, no matter how tough they may be. Add wind and/or wet and the problem is compounded. I know that my dog couldn't tolerate the cold long enough to get the exercise he needs without his warm coat. It DOES make a real difference, and fortunately more people are realizing this and fulfilling this need for their dogs.

And now, there's no excuse and there are real options, even for service dogs. Cozy Horse is now working with Bold Lead Designs (see my reviews here: Part 1 and Part 2 ) to provide custom coats that work with BLD's service dog harnesses. What a great idea! Now your dog can dress for the weather without it interfering with your dog's job, AND he/she can look great too!

Cozy Horse and Bold Lead Designs...perfect!

When I saw these two companies working together it almost made me giddy...it was like canine-retail-perfection overload! So much excellent quality and awesome service all in one place- it was almost too much:-) Now I have to buy another stunning Cozy Horse coat to fit over Murphy's harness. Bummer;-) Of course it won't replace the purple one he wears for play; this will be the third winter with the purple coat but it still looks brand new. Even after washing, Murphy's coats haven't  faded, become lumpy, shrunk or lost their shape. The soft fleece hasn't pilled.  Cozy Horse items are as durable as they are attractive. I could write a book about all the great options, but instead I encourage you to visit the sites and experience for yourself the excitement of 'designing' exactly what you want, knowing the fit will be perfect and it will last.

I am so glad I found Cozy Horse, and I have nothing negative to say. The service is the best, the choices are infinite and the products hold their value. This is the last coat company I'll ever need to find to keep my dogs warm and dry. Why settle for 'adequate' and 'not-quite-right' when you can have exactly what you want, and probably for less?

Going "Postal"

Maybe "going postal" isn't the most PC way of describing what I'm doing, but I suppose it's as accurate a description as any (without the semi-automatic firearms and bloody, unfair deaths, of course!). I went back and forth about writing this entry: I'm in a really crappy place and that's not exactly the stuff I want to be projecting outward into the world. But I'm nothing if not honest, and life is a process. It's easy, when times are great and smooth, to forget how tough things can be. It's not a place to wallow and revisit in a tangible sense, but remembering difficulties can be a good barometer at times. I write this fully anticipating the day when I can look back and say, "wow, look how far I've come".

There's no shame in having a tough time. It's not the 'tough time' part that's shameful. The shameful part would be the "Whaaa, poor me, I'm having a tough time and I'm going to just sit here and whine about it...Whaaa!". Doo doo happens. It isn't realistic to walk around all lilty and cheerful when there are real-world things to freak out about. It's okay to acknowledge, "hey, this is kind of sucking and it's really, really difficult. I need to take a moment to process and assimilate this." But something needs to come after, and sooner rather than later. Oh, and BTW, there's nothing new and major, I'm just feeling especially overwhelmed by more of the same ol' same ol' and frustrated to tears (like, for real) by my current inability to move past the same ever-present and stubborn stumbling blocks. The world is a wheel, and sometimes my discouragement is too: My financial situation makes it nearly impossible for me to sort out my panic/anxiety issues, and my panic/anxiety issues make it nearly impossible to sort out my financial woes. I'm not talking a bit of nervousness here folks, we're talking sometimes paralyzing, debilitating fear that makes no logical sense (despite my dogged determination to try to find some logic, and by doing so attempt to control it) and has been a problem for so long that it affects me physically in several...inconvenient...ways. I've lived with it so long that most of the time I have just gone forward doing what I could and pretending not to even notice the things that are beyond my capabilities. And when I throw phrases out there like "beyond my capabilities",  there's never a period after that phrase in my understanding of it. I mean "beyond my capabilities for right now". I'm wallowing today, no doubt, but it's a pity PARTY, not a pity way of life. It has a brief shelf-life because I said so.

As Zen and positive as I'm trying to be about my irrational negativity (see what I did there?), there has been some amusing fallout. I think I scared the CRAP out of another dog owner at the park this morning. He had not one, but TWO loose dogs, neither of whom had any recall and both of which made a beeline for my dog upon sighting him. Don't get me wrong, I am never warm and fuzzy to the "he/she just wants to say hi" crowd (click large DINOS badge at right if you can't imagine why), but this guy hit me at the worst possible moment and I completely unloaded on him. Not that he didn't have it coming. Seriously...TWO untrained loose dogs in a public park with a leash ordinance. WTF?!  But I usually at least manage to get through one of these exhaustingly-frequent exchanges without shouting things like "you inconsiderate GIT!" at people. In fact, I find firmness and assertiveness far more effective than anger and shouting. Oops. C'est la vie.

But a couple of coffees and some deep breathing later, I have at least reconnected with the logical part of myself that manages all of the problem-solving functions. Logic is much cooler than my Irish temper, and I embrace it's return with gratitude, even if it doesn't have any immediate solutions. Not digging a deeper hole is as good a temporary-fix as any;-) Logic likes to perseverate. Not always a good thing, but when it perseverates on finding ways to adjust my attitude, it can be very helpful indeed. It's Sunday. I have the time.

I think if you don't want to be miserable, you won't be. I also think if you are determined to be miserable, nothing can stop you. I know (believe me I KNOW) that misery visits us all; but I would rather turn it away at the door than invite in for tea. I spent my day reading blogs. I read the blogs of all the positive, uplifting, strong, gifted and determined people that I could absorb, and I let their words permeate the veil of  boo-hoo-ness and whaaa and reach the parts of me that they needed to reach. I did my level-best to do away with the "but"'s and allowed myself to be absorbed by the "what if" 's. I still feel like crap, but it's better crap. It's a step forward. If you keep facing and moving forward you can stay ahead of the ground crumbling beneath your feet. Well, at least in theory, right?

So this is the 'gratitude' part; I am grateful to have the tools I need to pull myself out of a hole, and even more grateful for the people, knowingly and unknowingly,  who reach their hands out to assist in that endeavor. Tomorrow is a shiny, bright new day:-)

Goals and inspiration

I play this game with myself sometimes: I'll lay in bed for a few minutes every morning (or for as long as Murphy allows) and pretend I'm somewhere else. I'll pretend that I'm in a bedroom in my very own house, and that I have to get up to feed the horses. I pretend that I can just let Murphy out the door to follow me to the barn and that he can sniff and roll and cavort as he chooses, without fear that he will be accosted by someone else's dog. I pretend that I am living the life I want and deserve and have dreamed about since I was almost in diapers. And then I am poked relentlessly by an enthusiastic, wet snoot attached to a wiggling body until I open my eyes and get out of bed.

It's tough to be discouraged when the first thing I see in the morning is a happy Dober-face, but even then when I open my eyes and find that I'm in exactly the same place as yesterday, the day before, and the day before that...well, it does happen. While I understand that I am where I need to be, I'm nowhere near where I want to be. On a logical level, I know I have worked very hard to move forward and continue to do so, but without seeing some kind of tangible proof of progress, it gets hard to maintain any enthusiasm. I am okay, I am grateful for all that I am, all that I've learned and all that I have. Even more so, I am grateful for the people I have in my life, the people I have had in my life and the abilities I've been given to utilize as I see fit. I realize that on many levels, there are folks that would give anything even to be where I am. I know how fortunate I've been. But that's not the point. This isn't my life. This is not the life I was meant for by any stretch of the imagination, and my heart so longs to reclaim the parts of me that, for sanity's sake, have had to remain dormant and waiting for opportunity. Some days it feels like it's killing me.

And that's what it's about sometimes, isn't it? Opportunity. A single word that can mean the difference between success or failure. I know it's important from my own experience, and more recently from watching my daughter work her butt off, and still never be able to achieve what the others did because her mom couldn't afford the same opportunities as the other parents. Money can't by talent, but you can have all the talent in the world and get nowhere if you don't have opportunity. It was more difficult to watch than to experience personally. And it drives me.

When I get discouraged, I find that it helps to read the blogs of folks who I admire. We're all in different places in our evolution, we all eventually overcome our difficulties. I am encouraged when I see another person achieve a goal, or when I find humor in another's perspective. It gives me hope when I read about hope, when I can see what human beings are capable of overcoming and achieving. I am discouraged, but I'm not alone. In my real world and in the places I frequent in cyber-space, there are amazing folks cheering me on both directly and unintentionally. Right now especially, I need to remember that those resources are always there, and to immerse myself in all the "positive" that I can. Maybe then, and with a dose of sheer tenacity, I will open my eyes and find that I have achieved my goals, and we are living our lives at last.