Going Green

Sometimes when you’ve been doing something one way your whole life, it becomes very difficult to see it from another perspective.

For me, recycling was a way of life.  I’d never known any different.  Not only did I grow up in a household that believed in being a good steward, being responsible, and taking care of the planet, but I also grew-up in the country, where we got rid of our trash by burning what we could and recycling what wouldn’t burn.  Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t so far out in the country that a trash pick-up service wasn’t available, but that would cost money and why pay for something when you don’t have to?

Now, just because recycling was the way we did things doesn’t mean I liked it one bit.  Sure, I felt slightly good about my efforts to preserve the planet for future generations, but that really didn’t counter-act the loathing I held for going to the recycling center.  In the spirit of thriftiness, we dropped off the recycling when we were already in town, which meant we tackled those containers in our Sunday clothes after church.  It was like climbing Everest in a swimming suit.  No matter how well we rinsed our cans and milk jugs, they still smelled like garbage and rotting milk.  Even if the wind was blowing just right and we could trudge across the parking lot ahead of the smell, when it came time to hoist the bags up to the windows of the recycling bins, a small feat when those windows were high above your head, something was sure to drop on you.  A can, a jug, or worst of all, liquid in some form or another.  Uggh.  I get shivers just remembering it.  I’ll happily muck a horse stall or help stitch up a wound, but I find garbage deplorable.  They try to make it sound clean and green by deeming it “recycling” but its garbage, and I had to touch it.  Every week.  In my Sunday clothes.  And then ride all the way home before washing my hands (these were the days before hand sanitizer in to-go bottles).   Needless to say, when I moved into town, it was bye-bye recycling!

Funny thing though, after a couple of years, I started sorting my trash a bit.  My roommate and I would save out the glass bottles, intending to recycle them like good upstanding citizens, however not once in three years did I ever venture to the recycling center.  You may be wondering about those glass bottles we were saving; well, we kept saving them and when they would threaten to crowd us out of the kitchen, my wonderful boyfriend would stop by and miraculously make them disappear.  I liked this kind of recycling!  MAGIC!  When we realized the system of us piling and him making it disappear, we started saving more items.  Tin cans.  Cardboard.  Paper.  But not milk jugs.  Never milk jugs.

I eventually married that Magic doer and we moved out to the country.  No trash pick-up this time, even if I could bring myself to pay for it.  Back to burning, which is a fine way to dispose of trash, but those darn tin cans and glass jars just won’t disappear, no matter how many times I burn them.  So it’s back to the recycling center.  Turns out, in this small town community, it’s a very gratifying experience.  The bins for the recycling are under roof and you drop your recycling down into them instead of hoisting it above your head.  You can pull right up to the walk way and there are generally other responsible, smiling citizens happily sorting their recycling into the appropriate bins without the worries of the sky, tin cans, or any form of liquid falling on their heads.

They say life looks better when you’re on top.  Who knows.  Sometimes all it takes is a change in perspective.   I took a Fresh Perspective on recycling.  What new perspective can you take?    

Hop on. The ride is about to begin.

“And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun.  Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.  You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.  Some windows are lighted.  But mostly they’re darked.  A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!  Do you dare to stay out?  Do you dare to go in?  How much can you lose? How much can you win?”

-          The Great Dr. Seuss

If you haven’t read Oh, The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss, you must.  It’s so good, that I actually received two copies for graduation and I kept them both.  Apparently I need to read them more often.  I’ve been in a Dr. Seuss class slump.   January’s hurry-up and wait chaos was wreaking havoc on my brain.  I was grouchy and listfull.  Plus, I was having a terrible time deciding whether it was worthwhile to haul a couple of hours to a horse show for two classes (budget/fitness dictated).  Never before have I turned down a chance to show, but I seriously considered it.

Somehow I managed to set my alarm, drag myself out of bed, clean out the stalls and make sure the horses were fed.  I loaded up the trailer, gave packing a lunch a quick thought, said good-bye to my husband, then the horse was caught.  We headed down the road, still ambivalent in our cares, with cross-winds and fog, venturing out, we dared.

My slumpy mood followed us all the way to the show grounds.  It wasn’t until after I opened the barn door and was greeted by a “Melinda!” from my coach that my feet began to quit dragging.  It’s amazing what a cheery welcome can do for your mood.  With wonderful weather, competitors from all over shed their blankets and came to play at the show.  That made things move a bit slowly, but I didn’t care.  I got to play catch up with old friends.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but talking things out gave me the kick in the pants I needed.

I don’t want to spoil your read of Oh the Places You’ll Go by quoting the entire work, though it’s tempting.  Let’s just say, in talking with friends I realized, I’ve been in “The Waiting Place.”  It isn’t pretty.  But somehow I found the motivation to get moving.  The show was wonderful.  We made some excellent strides of improvement and now confidence to continue those improvements on my own has returned.  I’d love to take regular lessons again, but right now I’m in a place where I’ve got to be self-reliant.  I don’t like it.  It’s scary, but if I just keep going, Dr. Seuss promises “98 and ¾ percent guaranteed” we’ll make it through.

                "You're off to Great Places!  Today is your day!  Your mountain is waiting.  So…get on your way!”

What about you?  Are you where you want to be?  Are you stuck in a Lurch; lost in a Slump; waiting, just waiting; playing a game you can’t win?  Or are you moving mountains?  Thanks, Dr. Seuss, for a Fresh Perspective and for un-slumping my behind!

                My helmet cam’s taping.  Time for some perks.  My ground poles are waiting.  My grid building in the works…

Roller Coasters

Roller Coasters.

You either like them, or you couldn’t be paid enough to strap in.  The ups and downs bring shrieks of joy or screams of terror.  The twists and turns charge you with adrenalin or churn up your gut.  Roller coasters just weren’t made for everyone.

Me, I could take ‘em or leave ‘em.  I’m not crazy about heights, so I generally keep my eyes closed.  I will  admit that there is something thrilling about cruising around the track at a break neck speed.  So, why am I writing about roller coasters in mid January?  I’m not really sure.  Gives you a lot of confidence, huh?

There have been so many things running through my head lately and I’ve had so little time to digest them that I feel a bit like a crazy scientist is test driving a roller coaster through my brain.

January started with two three day weekends in a row.  Absolutely unheard of.  In fact, I can count the number of times I had three days off in a row last year on one finger.  Those two weekends were heavenly and we made a lot of progress on getting the horses settled in at home and getting the daily chores running smoothly. 

Throwing a curve ball in the mix, we decided to join my family in Colorado for a bit more R&R and some snowboarding too.  We live in the middle of nowhere, so to abandon the homestead, we’ve got to pack up the cats, the dog and the horses and move them to facilities where their standard of care can be maintained while we’re gone.  I made calls and packed single servings of feed.  We packed the blanket boxes and counted needles for the feline’s insulin injections.  By the time “vacation” rolled around, we were exhausted.  Hoping to recuperate before returning home and reversing the packing process, we set off to Colorado. 

A day late and several dollars short we arrived.  Seems a Winter Weather Advisory went into affect the morning we approached the mountains.  Cooper is a trooper, but doesn’t handle sheet ice well.  Actually, few vehicles on I-70 do, so we spent 2.5 hours going .2 miles.  They closed the interstate down and turned us all around informing us we could seek refuge in Denver.  The snowboarding was good though.  Great weather, decent, if not a bit lacking, snow, good times with the family.  After two days, we were back in the car, back on the road, back in a Winter Weather Advisory.

Did I mention, while on vacation, we found out we’d lost a Pony Club friend.  While not a close friend, her untimely death at 20 shook me a bit.  She had a passion for horses, a seven month old baby, and a constant smile.  I’m not sure why it bothered me so.  Normally I handle that kind of thing pretty well, but it rattled my confidence a bit and is still lingering in the back of my brain.

We had some good luck in the form of a broken brake line when we went to pick up the horses.  “Good luck?” you say.  Yep, good luck.  As we pulled forward after hooking up to the trailer, the brakes went out.  The horses weren’t loaded yet and we weren’t pointed downhill. Good timing.  While we were rolling around on the ground under the truck fixing the brake line, we discovered a large bulge in a rear tire on the truck.  Changing to the spare was added to the list of “do immediately.”  Another stroke of good timing. 

January is usually when I plan out my show schedule for the coming year.  I make lists of exercises to work on and pour over every minute of the George Morris Clinic on the USEF Network during my lunch breaks at work.  I like cuddling up with a good book on horsemanship and riding technique.  This January hasn’t gone as planned.  I found a book, haven’t had time to read.  I visited the USEF website, but haven’t had time to watch more than 30 minutes.  Instead I’m corralling people and troubleshooting problems.  It’s frustrating.  Kind of like getting the itch to ride a roller coaster in December.

I had the opportunity to go to a small hunter/jumper show last weekend.  Normally, I’d be there in a heartbeat, but I’d been having second thoughts.  Not that I was getting cold feet (okay 8 lows, mean they are a little cold), but more I’m getting tired feet.  I knew once I got there, I’d have a good time, learn some things, and end up feeling refreshed, but the motivation was just not there.  I did end up dragging myself out of bed, but that’s a different story.  For now, strap-in, the ride is about to begin. 

Twelve Days of Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…

Twelve Pasture Pro Posts (closer to 2,000)

Eleven loads of gravel (we’re still spreading it, volunteers welcome)

Ten rolls of duct tape (even a roll in blue)

Nine apple horse treats (okay, they were peppermint, but that didn’t fit)

Eight shinning light bulbs (no more flashlight stall mucking)

Seven black bridal racks

Six swinging stall gates

Five rolls of ElectroBriad

Four bags of feed

Three big bales

Two muck buckets

And the horses home with me!

Merry Christmas!  It’s hard to believe that just last year, all I wanted for Christmas was a Christmas tree to make our house feel more like a home and less like we were camping.  I actually ended up with three trees.  An electronic sparkly tree from a dear friend, a cedar tree sprout decorated in a pot with kill orders from my mom, and a beautiful tree in the bedroom (because that was the only finished room at the time) from my husband.  It was a wonderful Christmas and it’s been a terrific and productive year since.

When you’re part of the daily grind, it’s hard to step back and see how far you’ve come.  That’s true whether you’re building a farm from scratch, training a horse, or tackling a big project at work.  Plus, this is a stressful time of year.  There are bills to pay, subscriptions and memberships to renew, and of course presents to find and purchase.  We find ourselves hustling and bustling with no direction.  With our heads in our shopping carts and calendars, we lose sight of the reason for the season.  So, instead of a Fresh Perspective this holiday season, let’s all take a long look back.  Look back through you day and all you got done.  Look back through the year at the highs and lows.  Then look way back to the first Christmas and remember it’s not what we do, but what’s been done for us.   

                                                          Merry Christmas!

Applied Physics: Newton's 2nd Law of Motion

The relationship between an object’s mass, its acceleration and the applied force is force equals mass times acceleration.

Physics is definitely not my subject, but the horses seem bound and determine to further my education, even if we’re going about it in reverse order.  We learned about Newton’s 3^rd law back in May.  (Read it Here)  This week’s lesson, Newton’s 2^nd Law of Motion.

I find the Second Law of Motion a little more complicated.  After all, it involves math.  That’s probably why Nutmeg needed to illustrate it not once, but twice this week.  For the first time since moving the horses home, I got to ride in my future arena, aka “the grass patch.”  Early in the year, I mowed the grass in approximately the location and dimensions of the grand prix jumping arena we will someday install (ha).  Admiral tested it out first with a very easy walk/trot day.  The ground was still a little wet and we were occasionally tearing up the grass, so we played it safe.  We’re also both embarrassingly out of shape so that helped dictate our regimen as well.  Fitness and activity levels aside, we determined the grass patch will make a fine arena and it was great to be riding in circles at home.

Nutmeg was thrilled with the footing the following day and that’s where Newton’s 2^nd Law comes into play.  The relationship between an object’s mass (Nutmeg’s mass = a lot, her weight is 1280 lbs.), its acceleration (halt=0 mph, walk = 4.5 mph, trot = 12 to 15 mph, canter = 20-25, buck = who knows… but you get the idea) and the applied force is force equals mass times acceleration.  So, we’ve got the mass of a very big horse times the acceleration of a very big horse who hasn’t been out on good footing in ages.  Let me tell you, the force is great, so great, the ground was flashing before my eyes and I was praying I stayed in the saddle.  The really great thing about force is that it can be applied in any direction, forward, backward, up, down, diagonal.  Nutmeg made sure I remembered that concept as well with a series of rodeo bronc bucks that rivaled her younger days.  I guess the two trips to the chiropractor have her feeling young and frisky.

Lesson two for Newton’s 2^nd Law came a few nights later.  We spent a large portion of the day preparing for the impending rain.  We hauled and spread gravel on my path up to the pasture to prevent the mud slip-in-slide adventures of the last rain fall.  Then we dug out under the pasture gate and filled in with gravel.  Yes, I’m seriously spoiled by my husband.  That night, as I was bringing the horses and pony inside, Newton’s 2^nd Law got some practical application.  In the very dark, dark a hoof collided with my ankle bone.  The force at which it impacted was great, but I wasn’t sure who to blame.  Remembering Nutmeg’s lesson earlier in the week I did a little math.  A large amount of force would be the product of either large mass and little acceleration or little mass and fast acceleration.  Admiral was ruled out because he wasn’t close enough to inflict damage.  Vaughn weighs all of 500 lbs when wet.  We were walking.  Acceleration was nil.  Big foot’s to blame.  Big surprise.

So, lesson noted.  Physics is very much an applied science.  Sometimes it’s applied to your rear; sometimes to your ankle and sometimes it allows you to soar over cross country fences.  I guess Newton’s 2^nd Law of Motion isn’t all bad.  That’s your Fresh Perspective on Newton’s 2^nd Law. 

Live Now!

Through work, I was recently exposed to the book The Rules of Life by Richard Templar.  I love rules, just ask my husband, so I knew immediately that this book was going on my reading list.  I’m not finished yet.  In fact, I’ve hardly started.  Okay, truth be told, I haven’t even bought it yet.   (Hint, Hint for Christmas) Just the titles of the chapters have me enthralled though since I keep seeing their applications to horseback riding.

Take, for example, Rule (chapter) 19.  “Don’t Dwell on the Past.”  Sure, we’ve heard that before, but have you ever applied it to your riding?  Admiral is a spooky boy.  If he’s nervous he spooks.  Board, he spooks.  If he is fit he spooks; feeling lazy he spooks.  You get the idea.  And, his spooks aren’t just a splay legged stop either.  Generally, he drops and does a one-eighty that puts many reining horses to shame.  It’s definitely “un-seat-eling” even if you’re ready for it.  With this in mind, I find myself dwelling on the last trip around the arena, preparing for the spook at the white roll top or the bushy tree.  The problem is, I’m not actually riding the horse under me.  I’m riding the horse that was under me two minutes or thirty seconds ago.  The only way to be an effective rider is to ride in the here and now.  Feel what’s under you.  Influence what you are riding now.

There’s more to Rule 19.  Templar writes, “ Whatever the past was, it’s gone.  There is nothing you can do to change anything that has gone before, and so you must turn your attention to the here and now…Live here.  Live now.  Live in this moment.”  I struggle with this.  I’d never really thought of it as a detriment to my riding that I compare horses to each other.  I was lucky enough to have two really awesome mares when I was younger.  They are the measuring stick I hold every other horse against and that’s not fair.  It’s also not fun.  What made those horses so great was the journey I made with them.  It wasn’t the end accomplishments, it was the time spent in and out of the saddle.  By comparing my current horses and by always striving to get back to where I left off, I’m robbing myself of the journey. 

Rule 20 fits right in as well.  “Don’t Live in the Future.”  Basically the message is, if you’re constantly driving for the future, you’re never satisfied, EVER.  The future never gets here.  It’s a message that is twofold.  If you’re a dreamer like I am, your thoughts are always on the next big thing.  You want to make things better, be a little richer, jump a little bigger, show a little more often, have a nicer home/barn.  Whatever the dream is, it consumes us.  Our current situation, horse, job, house, whatever, is compared to the dream.  Templar writes, “The key is to appreciate what we’ve got right now and yet still dream and plan.  That way we’ll be a little happier now than if we were constantly looking to the future, where happiness apparently lies.”  Remember, the future never gets here.  You better learn to be happy in the present if you ever hope to be happy.

The other part of “Don’t Live in the Future” deals with worry.  If you’re dwelling on the future, good or bad, you’re robbing yourself of the moment you are living.  Horses are great at creating worry.  We worry about possible lameness, about the right kind of feed, about finding a good vet and farrier, about them being too cold or too hot.  We also worry about the spook waiting for us on our next ride or stride for that matter.  We count the days, weeks, months, or if you’re lucky years, since our last fall and worry about how much the next one will hurt.  We’re only getting older after all.  I hate to admit it, but we worry about what others will think as well.  Templar writes, “Every time we worry about something in the future, we rob ourselves of living in the moment.  We lose a day that could have been spent enjoying life.  The bad things we worry about may never happen, but the days we spend worrying about them can never be returned to us.”  Sounds like pretty good advice to me.

Whether you’re striving to improve your riding or just trying to find a bit of contentment in life, try this perspective.  Live in the moment.  Learn from your past, plan for the future, but live right now.  Appreciate where you are.  Soak in the sights, smells, and sounds.  Enjoy the journey.  Clear your mind of clutter.  Focus on now, it’s pretty amazing.

Home is Where the Heart Is?

Sure, it’s cliché, but don’t blog post titles generally fall into that category?  That aside, I believe there are more “H’s” than just Heart that make up a Home.

In 2010, I got married.  Home was suddenly not where I grew up, but where my husband was.  For several months that meant “home” was a camping trailer parked in our future house.  It made for interesting challenges like cooking meals in either a microwave or on the stove top, doing dishes with the garden hose and surviving a Missouri fall with no heat.  As newly-weds we made it work and celebrated having each other.  For those few months, the camper was home.

While we were living in the camper we were building on our house.  It defiantly hadn’t taken on the characteristics of a home yet.  We put in drywall, painted like crazy, laid flooring, and finally got heat.  We gave up the camper and moved into the far from finished house, celebrating each other, real walls and heat.  With a bed on the floor, we were home.

After ba-hum-bugging all things Christmas, my husband surprised me with Christmas lights and a Christmas tree.  Some might see it as a silly gesture or a waste of cash, but to me it brought hope.  We might be roughing it, still waiting for a kitchen sink, and working our butts off, but we had each other, walls and a roof over our heads.  We had heat to keep us warm and could look forward to a future full of family gatherings and holiday celebrations.  It really felt like home, construction dust and all.

I’ll be the first to admit that as things progress on the house, it gets harder and harder to keep pressing forward.  So what if the trim isn’t done and the closet still needs shelves.  We’re happy.  There’s a house to return to each night, a husband waiting, heat to keep the whistling wind at bay and hope for the future.  We’re really enjoying life.  It makes it that much harder to keep building and working.  We’d love to just stand back and say, “Look at how far we’ve come,” but we’re not done yet.  Even though we're happy, no one else would see it as a home.

In case you missed me proclaiming the news from the roof top (walk-way) via facebook, the horses got to come home on Thanksgiving.  A year, almost to the day, after we moved into the house, the horses got to join us.  I get to kiss three furry muzzles goodnight and I’m greeted by whickers in the morning.  Sure, for now it means early mornings, scooping poop by flashlight, and absolutely no life, but they are here, a goal I’ve had for years.  The horses are home.

A husband, a house, heat, hope, happiness and horses.  Sounds like a home to me, but the final piece fell into place Thanksgiving.  Hospitality.  We had the privilege of having both sets of parents, some grandparents, siblings, and aunts over for Thanksgiving.  With a table full of twelve, a kitchen full of smells, and a barn full of horses our house was christened as our home.  For once people came to us, instead of us traveling to them.  Our family came to our home. 

So, Home isn’t just where the Heart is.  Or is it?  Home has many components and they vary from person to person.  Some want a place they can decorate.  Some want a place to have kids.  Some look forward to being able to dance in their underwear and some just want a place to feel secure.  Whatever it is that makes your home, remember if you look deep enough you’ll find your heart as well.  That’s my Fresh Perspective on Home.  Enjoy yours this Holiday Season.