A Windy, Wispy Day

Hope has been bitten by the horse bug again. Not that that particular insect, which took a big chomp out of her three years ago, has ever let go, but winter is over, it’s getting warm, the bulbs are blooming and it’s time for a horse. We called the owner of the gray Thoroughbred mare we leased for a few months in the fall of 2006, and got permission to ride this windy afternoon.

Tess seemed happy enough to see us, grooving in the currying and brushing, combing and picking. She accepted the saddle and bridle just fine. Since she hadn’t been ridden since Wednesday, we hooked her up with a longe line so we could take off any edge before Hope got in the saddle. Not that we expected an edge, but with horses you never know.

Maybe it was the wind. Or the horses galloping in the adjacent pasture. But, Tess was 17 hands of bottled-up nerves. Jittery, white-eyed, spooking at everything.

The longeing didn’t seem to do much good, so we took her to the indoor ring (way small, but what are you gonna do?) to see if she’d settle down in there.

She did, giving Hope a nice first ride of the season.

On the way home from the barn, I had an inexplicable, very uncharacteristic, craving for pink cotton candy. On a whim, we stopped at two convenience stores in search of. Nada.

After striking out at the second store, even though I still wanted the sweet, wispy stuff, I forgot all about it.

There was a big garage sale on the lawn in front of American Fork library. I debated with Hope whether to stop. Of course, she said no and I said yes, so we stopped. I bought a book for 25c.

When I took it back to the van, Hope pointed to a lady who was selling fresh cotton candy about 200 feet away.

What are the odds?

I bought four at 50c a pop -- one for me, three for the kids. It was no picnic getting four unbagged cotton candies back to the van intact in the same stiff wind that jangled Tess' nerves. I had to turn my back to the breeze and hold my coat open to break the blast.

Even so, my cone of cotton was consumed before we got home, it was that good.

Nancy Walks

This morning I woke up at 5:15. Though I would have preferred to go back to sleep, the head was awake and there was no turning back. That didn't mean I had to get out of bed. Oh, no. For 75 comfortable minutes I lay in the dark, covers pulled up to my chin, pondering the thoughts of the day.

One of those thoughts was of my friend Nancy, whose graduation from nursing school was slated to begin at 8:30. Nancy and I are cousins-in-law, sort of, because we’re divorced from members of the same family. We met face-to-face only last spring. Back then, and through summer, fall and winter, her 12 years of singlehood guided me through my rocky first.

Even though I didn’t have a clue where the nursing-graduation building was on the UVSC campus, I got there on time, squeezing my behind onto a bleacher amid a family who was saving seats and was hyper reluctant to make room for me. I sat through speeches and music and other blah blah blah so I could watch Nancy walk for her diploma. I did this because I think life events are important to attend, things like births (I've seen eight, only five of which were my own children), deaths (missed one by 35 minutes, darn it), graduations (countless). You know, all the milestones.

And, I learned some things at school this morning, because that’s what you do when you attend school, even if it’s only a graduation. I learned that:

The head of the school's health sciences department swears. Low-level swear words, but swear words just the same.

He also made a big ol' blunder while addressing the audience -- something about UVSC being a second-class institution. He stopped when his head caught up with his mouth, then plowed on, swearing again while saying he hoped no journalists had recorded his remark. (They had).

Maybe I’d like to go back to school to study community health. (A fleeting thought that seemed like a good idea for the five minutes it took all the community health graduates to get their diplomas, but doesn’t make a whole lot of long-term sense for me, when you think about it.)

From my vantage point, all the graduates looked alike, which explains why I took videos of someone crossing the stage who wasn’t Nancy.

The Third Venue

Welcome to my life. Again.

Readers from Journey to Anna and Fredericksburg.com are probably wondering why I need yet another blog. Weren’t those two venues enough?

Well no.

Journey to Anna was created to focus on the two daughters I adopted from China, how they came into our family and their shenanigans since they got here.

Fredericksburg.com….. after blogging there for 15 months, some issue about liability for the two bloggers not technically on staff came up. I was one of those bloggers so got the old heave ho.

So, here I am. Yes, again.

The focus has changed from stories about my two youngest daughters on Journey to Anna to rattling on in the same vein as I rattled on fredericksburg.com.

Only, lucky for you, I'll probably rattle more often.