Snowed in

We had a winter storm and about a foot of snow came down over the course of two days. The wind was fairly vigorous and some large drifts piled up around the house.



At first, it was a lot of fun. The first morning, the dogs went racing out across the field and went gallivanting about.



Blue Dog loves the snow. He rolls in it, burrows in it and just loves to hang out in the cool air.


Cowboy donned his Carharrts and his hat and went out to shovel the driveway like a hero. My goodness.



you were out of the 30mph wind, it was really very pretty.



Driving in it was a little scary. My host has a beast of a Ford Bronco that handled it pretty well, but even so, it was an interesting drive into town for supplies.



I took a view that being indoors was preferable to being outdoors. I was rather surprised that, despite the foot of snow on each car, people were still intending to dig the cars out and go to other places, like work. This would never happen in Britain. Except probably in the north, where people are tougher and this kind of weather is more likely.



This morning was glorious. Crisp, bright and clean. I think maybe I'll stay.

You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine...

You make me happy...



... When you're not being a snarky knot-head, that is.

Sunshine has transformed in the months that I've been back home in the UK. I left Washington in the summer, leaving behind a plump, young, bratty horse with a canter that had a different leading leg with each stride. She was a teenager in her mindset - pushy, easily bored, and occasionally resentful of work. I left her in Cowboy's big, capable, gentle hands and he set out to sculpt her into a better horse.

She looks different in one obvious way: her honey-coloured summer coat has been overgrown with her winter coat, which is long and shaggy, and lighter in colour. We don't clip her, as she's well-adapted to the cold weather and I want her to live as naturally as a horse as possible. She's also slimmed down a lot.

The biggest change is in her attitude. She used to paw and fidget when tied up, and now she stands quietly and patiently. She used to throw her head or barge through me, and now she's respectful of my space and minds her manners.

We've worked her a few times now, and took her to ranch sorting yesterday. We had some "discussions" to establish just who was in charge, and after that we've had some great rides. She really is turning into a solid horse.


She still has quite the attitude, though.

"You're a dancer? You must be really flexible..."

So, perhaps my plans are about to be wiped out. Perhaps my best intentions are taking me along the road to hell. Perhaps my flexibility is about to be tested, pushed to its limits. It's bend or break time.

I've been in Washington for just over a week now, enjoying the crisp, clear winter weather (and the less crisp, less clear rain which is more typical), and hanging out with Blue Dog.


He had a bath yesterday, against his will. He smells so good now.

Then reality hit hard this afternoon. Plans about massage school got shaken, vigorously, by the discovery of some terrible internet reviews of my chosen school. I began to question my judgement. Some hyperventilation occurred.

Cowboy hugged me and said "It'll be fine, babe."

So, I took a deep breath. I sent emails to other schools. I reminded myself that I have more time than I think. I considered the possibility of living with my parents for longer than I planned. I considered the upsides to being in the UK for longer than I had intended - more horseback archery... Hmm. Not so bad.

Then I sent Cowboy to make me a cup of tea. I'm already feeling better.

If I had a pound for every time things didn't go to plan, I'd be a rich person. Better than being rich, I'm still surviving, so obviously it isn't the end of the world if plans change. Quite the opposite.

Therefore the stiff and unbending is the disciple of death.
The gentle and yielding is the disciple of life.

Lao Tzu (c.604 - 531 B.C.)

Packed

Tomorrow, I head off to Terminal 5 at Heathrow for my flight to the US. I have packed my suitcase with determined efficiency, using a new packing technique (new to me, at least), and I have crammed in a huge amount of stuff into one suitcase and one cabin bag.


Sadly, there wasn't really enough space for this monster. She tried.

It is at about this point, when the trip looks very real and inevitable, that I get some nerves. I look at my packed bags and feel certain that I am forgetting something utterly vital and irreplaceable.

I also have to tidy up my bedroom before I leave. Something about coming home to a chaotic room is very unsavoury to me. I'll have to hoover and put everything away before going to bed tonight, and in the morning I will probably change my bed sheets so that when I get back, a month from now, everything will be ready.

A fair amount hinges on this trip. Life could be extremely different in just a few short weeks.

Insomnia

My peace of mind is less than peaceful just now. I have been out for walks in the surrounding countryside in a bid to find some peace and quiet.



What is it about being out in the air? It is pouring with rain at the moment, and I am seriously considering donning my coat and boots and trudging out into it. Last night, I set my alarm early, with every intention of squeezing myself into my running lycra and getting out early to stretch out and put some cold air in my lungs.


The run was thwarted by an abysmal night's sleep. I tried some of those herbal tablets that smell and taste like shit, hoping that they would let me get to sleep at a reasonable hour and stay asleep. They didn't work. Well, they worked enough to make me drowsy and floppy - so floppy that I was slightly concerned my hips would dislocate if I lay on my side - but I was still wide awake.

Cowboy messaged some time after 1am, and we talked on the phone for a little while. It made me miss him all the more. The PVP is bad. My dreams when I did eventually get to sleep were threatening and stressful. I woke up remembering why I don't like taking those pills - they dredge up some very disturbing dreams.

This morning, I lay in bed for several hours before I could bring myself to get up. I did some yoga to stretch out and get oxygenated, which was helpful. I often feel I should make it more of a ritual.

I know it's getting bad when my thoughts don't even make sense to myself. It's time to get out of here...

Learning how not to be deluded

Despite my previous attempt to be rational and calm and not bite Cowboy's head off the other day - which I deemed to be successful - I followed that success with an epic fail of temperament.

Psychosis is brewing

He messaged to say good morning. Said he loved me. I asked him about plans for the horse expo which we'll be going to while I'm visiting next month. He said he didn't mind.

Something in my brain flipped.

It doesn't matter he had said. I blew it as far out of proportion as I could. I huffed and puffed and typed a ridiculous message back to him, to the effect of: If you can't say more than three words about anything, I'm going to assume you don't care about anything.

He was baffled. He asked me to call him, trying to make the effort that I had courteously requested the previous day, ready to talk to me. This is a visual representation of what he got from me down the phone:

I ranted, raved, accused; I was furious and defensive; I was entirely out of patience. Clearly, I was still bothered about our communication failure. I should not be so deluded about my psychological progress with issues that I think a simple two message exchange will remove an entire chunk of rage from my psyche.

He listened patiently. He asked what he had to do to make things right.

He is so very tolerant of me sometimes.

Learning how not to over-think things

I am a chronic over-thinker. People I don't even know tell me I'm over-thinking things (see my experience with a crash mat and a fake horse at the Centre of Horseback Combat).

I over-think what to wear in the morning. I over-think what people in the village would think if they saw me running (flailing) through the village in an attempt to get fitter. I over-think what people say. I over-think what people don't say.

Since he left the UK and went home, Cowboy and I have slipped out of one of our old routines. Before, we would always message good morning and good night, every day. Didn't matter what I was doing, the last thing I'd do at night would be to reach over, get my phone and type him a message: "Good night. Love you. xxx"

When he would send me a message some time in the afternoon saying "Good morning. Hope you have a beautiful day!" it would make me smile, and make me feel a warm sense of appreciation for him. It was as if he reached out through the phone and hugged me (this has an advantage over a real hug, in that he cannot tickle me this way).

We fell out of this habit recently. Maybe neither of us got back into the old routines this time. Life is a bit weird just now. Still, I found myself reading more and more into it. I decided he didn't want to message me any longer. I decided that he didn't say good morning any longer because he didn't care if I had a beautiful day or not. I started to purposely not message him, to see if he did care. I started to rehearse the fight we could have about how he doesn't care and never messages me, how he doesn't make any effort.

Coupled with my PVP about my upcoming trip out there, I was becoming irrational and aggressive.

Then I started to panic, and realised I needed to address this before I over-thought it into a serious issue in our relationship. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to explain exactly how I felt: angry, frustrated, neglected. I planned to call him and give him an earful.

Luckily, I wimped out. I took a deep breath, and decided to message him, and be as calm and rational as possible. Here's how the conversation went:

And just like that, all of the stress went *pooff* and vanished. I felt very silly indeed.