Of wet poop and gratitude

Steve has been in Minnesota for over a week, now. The house is too quiet, the bed is too cold, and I've lost weight because I'm too lazy to cook so I just eat a salad when I get home.

Cry me a river, right?

It is not that I don't appreciate Steve when he's here, I absolutely do. I'd like to think my gratitude is ever-present and obvious, given whole-heartedly and with much enthusiasm, but perhaps I had forgotten just how much there is to be thankful for around here.

This wet week in Northern California has dumped quite a lot of rain on us. This is another reason to be happy and grateful, but it adds weight to horse poop and unused hay.

Who needs CrossFit? I have wet, soggy, heavy horse poop to swing up, over and then into the poop cart. Pretty sure that move has a much cooler name in some gym somewhere. Once upon a time, I think I used a fancy machine in a gym that mimicked that tighten-twist-lift thing that is oh-so-much better with a rake full of soggy poop. Never underestimate the added benefit of weight at the end of a poo-rake for building core strength. Or throwing out your back if you're not careful. That, too. Add to that wrestling heavy bales of hay into their proper storage place. Bales that weigh almost as much as I do and are pokey--it's like wrestling a porcupine into a shoe box.

Muddy brown horse saying more hay would be great.

But while I'm getting a great workout, I am also burning daylight hours that could be spent riding. And I could absolutely ride after I clean. If I didn't want to eat at 9 o'clock (which I don't) or go to bed at an hour that makes my 5:30 a.m. wake up time not so horrid. (Gotta have my eight hours or things get ugly.)

So this temporary routine while Steve is gone makes me deeply appreciate the fact that the poop is normally cleaned up and the horses have already been grained by the time I get to the barn. All I have to do is groom and ride and make it home for dinner. Which is usually cooked and waiting for me.

Makes me sound like a princess a little, yeah?

Apparently, Lena is not the only one who needs a tiara.

Steve says cooking is self-preservation. I know it's really that he wants to eat well and relying on me for that is NOT A GOOD PLAN. Ever. I burn things. A lot.

Am I glad he's coming home Thursday? Why yes, yes I am.

Jessica who?

Calabar has a right to say that these days and it is only his fundamental desire to get out of his paddock and do something--ANYTHING--that still has him waiting at the gate for me after many weeks of not quite enough attention and riding.

I started a new job, one with real hours, and now--like most humans--have to squeeze in horse time after the work day is done. This would be fine if Calabar and Lena were still my only horses and technically they are. But the other two in my care--Cash and Dixie--both needed a bit of extra attention this last month.

Cash had a bad month working an abscess out of a hind foot, requiring lots of duct tape, icthamol and hand walking to encourage the blob of pain in his hoof to manifest itself. It would get better, then worse, then better again until FINALLY it oozed its nasty way out of his coronary band. Gross, but a huge relief and the boy is now happily chasing me up and down his fence line when I get to the barn. Not to mention allowing me to perch upon him bareback though he thinks I may be a little on the weird side.

I AM on good behavior!

Dixie, well, Dixie has good days and bad days. She is on month three really of stall rest. Her fracture was on November 18th and she got to our barn in mid-December. Her stall needs constant maintenance because she is (as I believe I've previously reported) a stall piggy. It is amazing what the girl can do in a mere 12 hours, let alone a whole 24. She also needs calm, gentle energy and reassurance that it's okay she's not a part of the new routine going on around her--not yet, that is--but there is light on the horizon. She has follow-up x-rays on February 19th and our vet asked me a great question: "How does she feel about things?" to which I responded, "She says it's time to be out." The leg is cold and tight and I'm hoping a paddock outdoors with some room to roam and figure out how to be a loose woman is in her very near future. Then we can really start teaching her to be an ex-racehorse, which will be a very exciting thing and is generating a lot of crossed fingers and toes.

But back to Calabar, who says it's about time to return my attention to his beautiful, handsome, patient, long-suffering brown self.

My tiny human, says the bossy brown horse

He is fantastic. I love him. He is, however, testing me as should be expected with the last few months of inconsistency.

No. You cannot run over me on the way into the arena. Stop pouting, I barely hit your chin with the clip, you big baby. Yes, I do mean it. Stop acting like a turd. Yes, of course I still love you. No, I am not your scratching post. We are indeed going to ride at feeding time. Just like we used to before I got distracted. Yes, it's dark outside the arena. It's winter, remember? I'm pretty sure there are no mountain lions out there this very second.

But then there is the moment where we connect--where he does what I want or I do what he wants and convince him it's my idea. The other day it was a forward seat, hands on either side of his withers, just letting him canter and staying with him. It was a fast canter, just in the round pen, but I found myself breathing in time with him as he huffed out in the race-rhythm and when I went with him and didn't try to hold him, he actually relaxed. We were balanced, we were together, he was happy and forward and all my horse to ride.

He is also an incredible puppy babysitter as it turns out.

My puppy, says Uncle Calabar

So far, he still remembers me when I show up at the barn and still wants to come out and play so we'll just try and keep it that way and dance faster and juggle harder as needed. Because all the ponies should be as lucky as Calabar and I love helping get them there.

Escape to the beach

Sweaty, shiny, happy ponies post-beach ride. 

I admit it, my house did not get cleaned this last weekend. I thought about it, really I did. It just hit the lowest priority on the "things I need to do" list. There was work and there were bored ponies. Bored ponies, as I've said other places, can cause problems.

Saturday, I had a call with my side-job boss to plan out what needed to happen on the website we're working on. Right after that I met with someone to help them figure out Constant Contact for their email marketing. Since I'm having a lot of fun doing what I'm good at, it's really not like work, but then suddenly it was Sunday and I really wanted to get out with the horses.

They wanted out, too. Calabar has been exhibiting symptoms of extreme arena fatigue for weeks now, as has Lena by all accounts, and neither of them had gotten enough work with the Sacramento/Miata fiasco. 

But I knew I had work to do on the website and the house was also in dire need of some sprucing up so I had a bit of a moral dilemma on my hands.

The house lost, but the horses won. (So did the website, but this is not Spotty Website News.)

They ware so anxious to get away from the arena, loading was a breeze. Bar went in first without any hesitation--none, zip, nada--with Lena prancing around anxiously until I got the divider fastened. I just barely ducked out of the way fast enough!

"Uh, I guess you guys are ready to go?"

We just went out to Doran Beach and wandered through the deep sand to the end, skirting the waves and watching the activity around us. Then we turned around and trotted back, adding a canter or two on the way. (Plus one buck on Calabar's part when he didn't want Lena to pass him and I had the audacity to insist he slow down.)

Then came the best part as far as Calabar and Lena were concerned.

We un-tacked at the trailer and walked back to the beach, the horses snuffling the ground at every third step. "Just hang on, we're almost there!"

Post-roll, sandy Thoroughbred shark-fin withers in the background

We walked them onto the sand and the rolling commenced. One side, then the other, then the first side again. Then one more pass. I was holding the end of Calabar's lead rope when he went down for his last pass. I watched as he dug his back deep into the sand and when he became vertical--feet to the sky--I could barely believe it. To my knowledge, he has never been able to roll all the way over because of his shark-fin withers. He tries, oh how he tries, but I've never seen it happen. 

He teetered, all four feet up in the air, then "fwump" went over on the other side. I cheered. People looked at me like I was crazy and I didn't care. He got back up and shook, looking surprised and quite pleased with himself--then gave me a big, sandy, slobbery kiss.

And today? Today I got a very forward and enthusiastic horse in the arena. "Sure, we can keep trotting, no problem! So what if it's dinner time, let's work!"

Best decision I've made in a long time. Even if the house still needs sprucing.

Except now Calabar wants his own sand pit. Preferably a very deep and soft sand pit. Negotiations have begun.

A little more time to ride

It is important to think about what you ask for because sometimes you get it.

Work has taken a lot of my time and sapped a lot of my energy over the last year--especially the last six months or more. One client in particular represented 90% of my workload and stress--wake-me-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night type stress. "Have to remember this. Can't forget that. Oh! And the other thing!" I couldn't turn it off no matter how hard I tried. I kept trying to squeeze out time to ride, time to be with my family, but even when I had it, my brain wouldn't let go of work.

Last week, that client decided to "go a different direction" and that has resulted in a dramatic down-sizing of our operations and a temporary (I mostly hope) move to part time for me. (Luckily, still with health care coverage.)

You might ask, "Why mostly?" and that's a good question. 

Because I am no longer so exhausted and emotionally drained that I can't summon the energy to ride my horse.

Because my stomach doesn't clench when I wake up in the morning.

Because I get to work on different projects and problem-solve instead of chasing down the many pathways one client was broken.

Because I can focus on Steve and our home and enjoying each other. 

Because I can help ride Lena so she gets more attention and work--very good things for her and for me. It's really nice to ride a horse that knows a little more than Calabar does sometimes so I can focus more on what I need to learn.

It's also nice to leave work in the afternoon and have time to spend with all the loves of my life without rushing. Without feeling like I'm shorting one to tend to another. 

I don't know yet what will happen, I don't even really know what I want to happen. I just know I'm going to enjoy a little respite while I figure it all out. A respite full of ponies and maybe even a close look at writing opportunities out there. Who knows what might happen with a few more hours in the day?

Best intentions go astray

I was quite excited to be back from our long weekend, ready to get back in the saddle and back into some training for both Bar and me.

Then this tickle started in the back of my throat, followed not too shortly thereafter by a cough, aches, and weariness.

Really? I have things to do! Things that don't involve being sick, tired or grumpy. Work is a must, so barn time is compromised until I feel a little better. Poor Calabar. He got carrots and licorice last night, but that took all the energy I had. Tonight I didn't even get there because poor Steve came down with the stomach flu and someone had to buy something for dinner or we'd all starve.

By the way, Oliver likes roast chicken. A lot. I'm not even sure he chewed.

Ugh. Stupid, inconvenient, bad-timing, germs. Bah.

Going to bed now. Take that, dumb germs.

Remembering to balance

Our journey has ended. We're at home, relaxing on a Sunday after a trip to the barn and a nice ride for both of us. The laundry is in process and I'm studiously ignoring any urge to think about work until tomorrow morning. There are surely hundreds of emails lurking in my inbox even now, and some of them may even be as urgent as the sender thinks they are.

Right now, I’m happy to still be ignorant of all that has transpired in my absence—even if it means I will be buried again next week.

I made a vow while we were traveling, though, as I felt the knots in my shoulders work their way loose and as I took deeper and deeper breaths of pine-scented air. No matter how crazy things get at work, even if I can’t see how I will get it all done, there has to be time taken for a few crucial things--a daily walk and a daily (or almost daily) ride. The work will always be there, but my ability to manage it effectively depends on my mental state being up to the task. If I don’t remember to breathe and take moments during the day to step away from all of it, to let go of all the noise in my head, all the demands on my time and energy, I will not only be hurting myself, I’ll be hurting the business as well.

I have not written a lot about my job specifically, only as it relates to keeping me away from the ponies. Mostly, I wanted to keep the blog about the horses and leave my “other” life out of it. But as the balance has shifted in the past few months, I’m finding it harder and harder to keep work from leaking into the horse part of my life, so it has ended up here more and more often—even just as side comments and grousing about not seeing my horses enough.

I work for a company that provides service, technology and financing--primarily to the medical industry. We have learned that in order to effectively help facilities and even smaller practices, we need to help them manage their collateral (medical claims) and all the processes around getting those claims paid. We have lots of technology and expertise to do this, but the challenge is often convincing the entrenched staff to do what’s best and smart. Not what they've done for the last 25 years, or what they did at the last three facilities, or just how they've "always done it." Even when we’ve effectively increased their income by 10%, it is still an uphill battle more often than not.

It gets exhausting, and there is never a thank you--there is only the next thing that needs to be fixed. There is no shortage of opportunity out there for us to build our business and grow, but if I’m going to continue to be a part of it, I need to learn to let a lot go, to turn it off, to walk away.

My boss, the owner and CEO, is an entrepreneur. They are a different breed of humans, I swear. His energy and ability to put pieces together is remarkable and inspiring, and it is incredibly easy to get lost in his enthusiasm and pour all of yourself into his vision.

And it's a good vision. There are so many inefficiencies in the medical billing world, so many cracks where money slips away with barely a whimper, that with just a tiny bit of effort, good technology and tenacious staff, the revenue needle can move--and move significantly. The insurance companies don't like it, but too bad for them. I run the operations--from managing our staff as well as the customer relationships to solving simple IT issues in the office to making follow-up calls to the insurance companies. Basically, whatever it takes. And sometimes, a lot of the time, it takes a lot.

So how do I keep my energy in this? It is definitely not 10 hour days and checking email on vacation (which I didn’t do). It is remembering what we're doing and that we are doing good things while making our own business work, too. It is also doing what Steve and I just did on a daily and smaller scale. Turn off the phone. Walk away from the email. Breathe. Walk. Ride. Repeat often.

This first week back will be a rough test. The two weeks before we left, I didn't get out for a walk even once. Sitting is sooo bad. So bad. It wreaks havoc on your spine and joints AND slows down your metabolism. I do not need that kind of help. Particularly as I become "a woman of a certain age."

So. Big test coming up. Steve says to remember that sense of peace stealing over my soul the first time we lost the cell phone signal. That was pretty good, but it was actually even better when I got back to "civilization" and told my boss I needed to not check in until we got back. When I chose to disconnect was when my chest finally loosened for real.

I just have to make that choice daily, and certainly before I'm ready to run off and join the circus to get away.

Would I do it all again?

I have often contemplated whether--knowing what I know now about the challenges we've faced--I'd go the same route and choose Calabar as my trusty steed.

We were talking over dinner tonight--Steve, Katie, and me--about our horses, the personalities and training differences of all three--and Katie challenged me. With the schedule I have now, the commitment I need to put into my job, would I choose Calabar?

It gave me pause. He's needed all the time I've put into him. Heck, I needed that time, too. Would we be where we are now without it? Would I have survived the relationship without that investment?

It is hard to say. Hindsight obscures the hard times and what I have with him today is worth every bump, every bruise, every doubt I've had up to this point.

Could I have picked an easier horse? Of course. Could I have picked a horse that would watch and respond to my every move, as well as teach me as much as he has? That is doubtful.

If I'd been working then like I'm working now, it would have been different, more difficult. But what he offers me is warm oasis, a haven in the desert that sometimes surrounds me in my professional life. (Healthcare is really a mess, I have to say.)

Life offers opportunities and I think things tend to fall in where they should fit. Not always, mind you, but often enough.

There is no doubt in my mind that Calabar is my horse. Do I wish I had more time with him right now? Absolutely. Do I need to work as hard as I'm working for my company right now? No doubt. Is my goal to balance out the two because I value both? Heck yeah.

If I had not had the time and energy to spend with him before work got so crazy, we would not have the foundation we have now--a foundation that lets us take a few days off and start back where we left off.

I don't think he'll ever be a horse I can just show up and slap a saddle on and go. He needs more from me, just as I need more from him.

So would I do it all again, knowing all I know now? Yeah, I probably would. He's just too awesome to even consider a do-over.

Time with the horses

Warm horse noses are a gift--a break from the world of spreadsheets and making sure my clients have the money they need to keep their businesses running.

After several days of work--hard, brain-draining, thinking, calculating work--I finally got to spend time with Calabar. Warm, fluffy, soft, fuzzy-nose time.

He was good for me, but Steve told me Bar was quite high earlier in the evening--rearing and dancing in his paddock while Steve grained and fed.

No wonder. He hadn't been out in three days.

Normally, walking him down to the arena when he's like this--especially in cool weather and when I'm in a hurry, both of which were the case tonight--is a recipe for dancing and spinning before we even get to the arena.

But either he had gotten most of his bounciness out or he realized to really work it out, he had to cooperate with me.

So he did. No bad behavior on the way to the arena, even in his normal spots--right inside the gate, even right after I let him go in the round pen.

He did want to run. And run. And run some more. And spin on his back end. Buck a little. Levitate a little, too.

Can I blame him? Nope. I know exactly how he feels. I have managed to keep doing a little yoga every day, but I used to walk every day, too. but that hasn't been happening a lot lately. The wiggles can set in really badly at about 2 in the afternoon, and I'm not a Thoroughbred, a horse bred to move all the time.

I confess to wanting a little more balance in my life right about now.

Locally published

Soon there will be riding again, I promise

My friend Joan (over at Cowboy and Dexter's Excellent Adventures) encouraged me to submit some of my writing to our local Horse Council publication, and I have done so. Apparently, it was acceptable.

I have yet to get my hands on a printed copy, but my story starts on page 23 and rolls onto page 25. (Which means I got to spread out to more than one page!)

Wonder what I should write about next?

Perhaps balancing the thing that pays the bills (yeah, my job) with the thing that feeds my soul (the horses, of course).

Not that I don't love my job, I just sometimes wish I was a little less important. Okay, not really, but some of you may get where I'm going with that.

Unfortunately, the pragmatist in me realizes the job must be done, the bills must be paid, and Calabar will still love me when I do finally get back to the barn. He may pout--scratch that, he will pout--but he will still love me. As long as there are carrots. And black licorice. Oh, and apples.