This is my 350th post, which I feel should be special, but it's not likely.
Instead, I will express my deepest gratitude when we discovered that the scheduled duathalon on Sunday can be done relay-style. I haven't felt that joyous inside for a long time.
You see, I'd been training pretty diligently, still wasn't up to running 2 miles, and feeling like I wanted to back out, but couldn't because I've already written two columns about racing, and committed to a bunch of people.
Uh-huh, pride.
And this morning I was stressing out because I still didn't have a bike, I haven't ridden a bike in YEARS, the guy at the bike shop made it sound so incredibly complicated, I realized I needed a helmet too, and it was all kind of expensive. I told my friend Emily, who's doing the whole thing with us, that it wasn't the physical part that worried me, it was the logistics.
I would be the one who'd be worried about where to park the bike I didn't have over if my legs could carry me the last 1.6 miles.
Organizational freak.
So Lauren and I were discussing how we still didn't have a bike (as we have been for the past two weeks) when our office lady said she has a brand new road bike we could borrow. Lauren looked at each other like, "Haven't we been discussing this for two weeks?" but we graciously accepted. I'm picking up the bike tomorrow and will begin practicing.
The plan is for Lauren to run the first 1.6 miles, I'll bike the 10, and Lauren will finish up with the 1.6. She was worried about the biking, I was worried about the running, so it's a good deal.
I think.
Like I said, I haven't been on a bike in way too long.
I'm a little worried that this lowers my coolness factor among the ranks. I won't be a full duathlete. BUT, as Lauren pointed out numerous times today, we both still get our own goodie bags, which comes with a t-shirt and massage. And maybe a commemorative cup.
So. To summarize, I'm doing this for myself and for all the other women out there who've never done this before, but somehow think in 4 days, they can be ready for a 10-mile bike ride.
We soooooo got this.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
the last weekend in February
We bake-saled.
We smiled.
We played.
We napped.
We cooked, we baseball-practiced, we edited, we life-planned, we PS3'ed, we photographed, we shopped, we ate, we tattooed, we bossed, we cleaned, we opened the doors and windows, we talked, we missed, we lived.
green spring
There's something comforting about spring, something about it that just makes everything feel better.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
domestic me, innovative me
An author suggested that with today's "modern kitchen tools," baking bread isn't as difficult as it sounds, which makes me think:
"I don't use 'modern kitchen tools' (unless you're referring to a wooden spoon and a stainless steel mixing bowl) and it's still not as difficult as you think."
I'm not sure what it says about me that I look forward to going home and baking up two batches of white bread, and spending 4 hours doing it.
But there's just nothing quite as satisfying as this at 11:30 at night:
And then, my kitchen prowess went south this morning when I broke our coffee pot (!!!), and had to catch the black liquid in a bowl:
Then I realized there's a black lever that the coffee pot presses against to release the coffee, and so I stood there with a butter knife pressed against the lever until the coffee was brewed. Talk about a time waster in an already-pressed-for-time morning.
THEN, I couldn't even drink the coffee because a) it was terrible, and b) it had grounds in it.
I think I should just stick to baking bread.
"I don't use 'modern kitchen tools' (unless you're referring to a wooden spoon and a stainless steel mixing bowl) and it's still not as difficult as you think."
I'm not sure what it says about me that I look forward to going home and baking up two batches of white bread, and spending 4 hours doing it.
But there's just nothing quite as satisfying as this at 11:30 at night:
And then, my kitchen prowess went south this morning when I broke our coffee pot (!!!), and had to catch the black liquid in a bowl:
Then I realized there's a black lever that the coffee pot presses against to release the coffee, and so I stood there with a butter knife pressed against the lever until the coffee was brewed. Talk about a time waster in an already-pressed-for-time morning.THEN, I couldn't even drink the coffee because a) it was terrible, and b) it had grounds in it.
I think I should just stick to baking bread.
Monday, February 21, 2011
imprinting my heart in the pavement
I left my office today for lunch. And I found a park with a walk/run trail, and I ran.
To think I sought this venture with the intent to clear my cluttered mind is astounding to me. Somehow, today, I needed to feel the fire in my lungs, and hear the pounding of my feet on the pavement. I needed to concentrate on the rhythm of my breathing instead of the irregularity of my recent emotions.
Perhaps also, I needed to punish myself, and the best way I know how right now is to subject myself to hyperventilating on a sidewalk in pursuit of my recent ambition.
Whatever the case, I ran outside today in perfect weather, as opposed to the other time I tried to jog outside.
It's probably no surprise to you that while I focused on putting one foot in front of the other at a fast pace, I was reflecting on life, my life, and the actual race coming up in 12 days.
This is where running took a philosophical turn for me.
I could see my brother, Daniel, supporting me, only he couldn't actually run this race with me because it's women only. So I thought that perhaps he could run alongside the race path next to me.
But then quickly I realized this race is mine, and I'll run it alone.
That's not a realization I want.
The person I want beside me, can't be.
He's a boy; I'm a girl.
There's a canyon between what I want and what I can't have.
Dramatic, perhaps, but true.
It's tough to realize that it's my own two legs that'll have to carry me.
I guess it'll make me one Tough Cookie.
The voices in my head were quieted some.
I couldn't hear them over the pounding of my heart on the asphalt.
March 6th is my race date, my do-or-die date, my it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me date.
In the meantime, I'll keep running this marathon called Life, my do-or-die, it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me beautiful life.
To think I sought this venture with the intent to clear my cluttered mind is astounding to me. Somehow, today, I needed to feel the fire in my lungs, and hear the pounding of my feet on the pavement. I needed to concentrate on the rhythm of my breathing instead of the irregularity of my recent emotions.
Perhaps also, I needed to punish myself, and the best way I know how right now is to subject myself to hyperventilating on a sidewalk in pursuit of my recent ambition.
Whatever the case, I ran outside today in perfect weather, as opposed to the other time I tried to jog outside.
It's probably no surprise to you that while I focused on putting one foot in front of the other at a fast pace, I was reflecting on life, my life, and the actual race coming up in 12 days.
This is where running took a philosophical turn for me.
I could see my brother, Daniel, supporting me, only he couldn't actually run this race with me because it's women only. So I thought that perhaps he could run alongside the race path next to me.
But then quickly I realized this race is mine, and I'll run it alone.
That's not a realization I want.
The person I want beside me, can't be.
He's a boy; I'm a girl.
There's a canyon between what I want and what I can't have.
Dramatic, perhaps, but true.
It's tough to realize that it's my own two legs that'll have to carry me.
I guess it'll make me one Tough Cookie.
The voices in my head were quieted some.
I couldn't hear them over the pounding of my heart on the asphalt.
March 6th is my race date, my do-or-die date, my it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me date.
In the meantime, I'll keep running this marathon called Life, my do-or-die, it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me beautiful life.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
it might be worthy to note...
As of today, my mom and I have lost 50 pounds each.
FIFTY pounds!!
Who'd have thought?
FIFTY pounds!!
Who'd have thought?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
special
Volunteering is special to me.
These people are special to me.
The Ronald McDonald House is special to me.
Cooking is special to me.
Combine all those things, and for me, I had a very special Friday night giving back to an organization that tremendously helped us almost five years ago.
The night was amazing. Perfect.
These people are special to me.
The Ronald McDonald House is special to me.
Cooking is special to me.
Combine all those things, and for me, I had a very special Friday night giving back to an organization that tremendously helped us almost five years ago.
The night was amazing. Perfect.
curbside fellowship in a parking lot
I spent Friday night in Austin with very amazing friends, Kelly and Karah. We'd finished making dinner at the Ronald McDonald House and decided to go grab a bite to eat and visit.
We were pulling out of a restaurant whose parking lot was FULL, and Kelly jumped out of her vehicle to go say something to Karah who was leading the way.
She locked her keys in the truck.
And I started taking pictures....
It was like a block party .... in a very busy parking lot on a very busy frontage road on a very busy Friday night.
Karah's fiance joined us, and I got him involved in our picture-taking party. After standing around for ten minutes, we decided to occupy the curb while we waited for Kelly's husband to bring the spare key. I mean, why not?
Once night fell, people kept trying to get in our line of parked vehicles. Chris had to direct traffic and verbally inform drivers to GO AROUND.
Kelly felt bad. But seriously, who gets to hang out on a curb in a parking lot in "that part" of Austin for 75 minutes?
We were pulling out of a restaurant whose parking lot was FULL, and Kelly jumped out of her vehicle to go say something to Karah who was leading the way.
She locked her keys in the truck.
And I started taking pictures....
It was like a block party .... in a very busy parking lot on a very busy frontage road on a very busy Friday night.
Karah's fiance joined us, and I got him involved in our picture-taking party. After standing around for ten minutes, we decided to occupy the curb while we waited for Kelly's husband to bring the spare key. I mean, why not?
Once night fell, people kept trying to get in our line of parked vehicles. Chris had to direct traffic and verbally inform drivers to GO AROUND.
Kelly felt bad. But seriously, who gets to hang out on a curb in a parking lot in "that part" of Austin for 75 minutes?US! And we really loved nearly every minute of it.
I've never eaten at this restaurant. But I've spent some quality time in its parking lot with people who are very important to me.
Kelly's husband, Brent, arrived, and the now-five of us found a nearby Chilis where we ate, laughed, talked, caught up, and fellowshipped-not-on-a-curb for several hours.
I've never eaten at this restaurant. But I've spent some quality time in its parking lot with people who are very important to me.
Kelly's husband, Brent, arrived, and the now-five of us found a nearby Chilis where we ate, laughed, talked, caught up, and fellowshipped-not-on-a-curb for several hours. This is what life is made of, right?
I should think so.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Maybe God could help me with my religion story
You better believe that as a journalist who's a Christian, I play my God card in my head whenever possible. Early on in my career, a fellow journalist friend of mine blogged that "God loves journalists," and I have found that to be true.
This doesn't mean I always get what I want. It just means that while colleagues are ripping their hair out, and stress is literally eating away their bones, I pray.
And then rip my hair out.
Sarcasm aside, I do pray a lot on this job, and mostly I pray for myself. For insight, for clarity, for wisdom, for the ability to see past the obvious and into more truth, for silly people to call me back in a timely fashion.
So Wednesday, when two of my religion story ideas fell through in an hour and I was pressed in a deadline crunch, I was in a tizzy, plus the fact that Wednesdays are usually one of my busiest days anyway.
Maybe God would be interested in helping you out here since it is, after all, your religion story.
What a bless-ed, novel idea.
Like in other areas of my life that I get tizzified over, my prayers for help are usually desperate by the time I get around to asking.
And, like in other areas of my life, I believe that every thing happens for a reason. So I calmed myself down over the TWO people who backed out of TWO perfectly good story ideas, I forgot about them, and while I Googled local churches in the area who might be doing something on a Wednesday night (work with me here, people!), I asked for God to 1) find me a story and 2) find me the right story.
In God-like form, all quick and speedy, he did.
Meanwhile, my peers and the religion editor have praised me for my "tenacity" for two days now, and I have replied with:
"I prayed that God would help me with my religion story."
Sometimes, it just makes sense.
This doesn't mean I always get what I want. It just means that while colleagues are ripping their hair out, and stress is literally eating away their bones, I pray.
And then rip my hair out.
Sarcasm aside, I do pray a lot on this job, and mostly I pray for myself. For insight, for clarity, for wisdom, for the ability to see past the obvious and into more truth, for silly people to call me back in a timely fashion.
So Wednesday, when two of my religion story ideas fell through in an hour and I was pressed in a deadline crunch, I was in a tizzy, plus the fact that Wednesdays are usually one of my busiest days anyway.
Maybe God would be interested in helping you out here since it is, after all, your religion story.
What a bless-ed, novel idea.
Like in other areas of my life that I get tizzified over, my prayers for help are usually desperate by the time I get around to asking.
And, like in other areas of my life, I believe that every thing happens for a reason. So I calmed myself down over the TWO people who backed out of TWO perfectly good story ideas, I forgot about them, and while I Googled local churches in the area who might be doing something on a Wednesday night (work with me here, people!), I asked for God to 1) find me a story and 2) find me the right story.
In God-like form, all quick and speedy, he did.
Meanwhile, my peers and the religion editor have praised me for my "tenacity" for two days now, and I have replied with:
"I prayed that God would help me with my religion story."
Sometimes, it just makes sense.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Me, them, a diet update, mom's foul language
When my mom calls me on my busiest day at work and asks, "Are you busy?", it doesn't matter if I'm interviewing the President of the United States of America, or if I'm designing my weekly paper: "No, mom, I'm not busy. What's up?"
And then when she says, "Holy freaking sh*t," so many things are happening to me and in no particular order. My heart starts racing, I get a teeny bit nauseous, I don't want to go home (weird), I think things like, "Is Zeb dead?" (that's actually my first thought), and "who's arguing with whom?"
When she begins the next sentence with, "So I was at this prayer meeting," I take a deep sigh of relief and settle in for some gossip.
Here are a couple pictures from the last week. Piper joined us at baseball practice, but we forgot how cold a 14-ounce dog can get when it's a little windy. She slept in my jacket the whole time and when she popped her head out an hour later, everyone was shocked.
Skye is really sweet, and even though I've threatened her within an inch of her life on multiple occasions, she loves me. She did get kicked the other night by one of our horses who decided that after two weeks of being hounded by her, he'd had enough...again. I heard the solid (but gentle) correction, and Skye's subsequent yelping through the yard. After the first five or six time she's been taught this lesson, I'm no longer concerned. Instead I yelled, "I hope it burns and I hope it teaches you I mean what I say."
Because that's effective dog training.
She does this thing where when I have all the doors in the house open and I'm puttering in the kitchen, she just wants to come in and lay near me. But it's usually at a time when I'm barring all dogs from being in the house so I have the following conversation:
Her feet cross the thresh-hold.
"Outside."
Her eyes go downcast and she takes a couple more steps into the dining room.
"Skye, outside!"
She throws a meek glance my way and cowers a little closer.
"You know what I'm telling you. Now, outside. No dogs in the house right now."
She's got her ears back now, her eyes are sad, she's still cowering and getting closer.
"I said outside."
Ears still back, eyes sadder, and still scooting towards the direction of her favorite spot in the kitchen where she can lay and see where I'm at.
"Okay, as long as you lay there, that's fine."
My dog training is awesome.
I had a realization yesterday about my diet, and then it was solidified today when I read my friend's blog. I need to do what's right for me and my body.
Duh.
But I think I got caught up a little bit in the numbers on the scale instead of remembering that the numbers don't really matter. It's about how I feel in my new (skinny) skin. There's a perfect number I'm supposed to weigh, according to a BMI calculator, and for a second I got really consumed in achieving that number.
The fact of the matter is: I might not reach that number, and I might not want to reach that number.
I need to celebrate the 48 pounds I've lost to date, and the fact that I can feel my now-pronounced collar bone, and that when I cross my arms, my hands are still surprised that the poky elbows I'm touching are actually mine.
And then when she says, "Holy freaking sh*t," so many things are happening to me and in no particular order. My heart starts racing, I get a teeny bit nauseous, I don't want to go home (weird), I think things like, "Is Zeb dead?" (that's actually my first thought), and "who's arguing with whom?"
When she begins the next sentence with, "So I was at this prayer meeting," I take a deep sigh of relief and settle in for some gossip.
Here are a couple pictures from the last week. Piper joined us at baseball practice, but we forgot how cold a 14-ounce dog can get when it's a little windy. She slept in my jacket the whole time and when she popped her head out an hour later, everyone was shocked.
Skye is really sweet, and even though I've threatened her within an inch of her life on multiple occasions, she loves me. She did get kicked the other night by one of our horses who decided that after two weeks of being hounded by her, he'd had enough...again. I heard the solid (but gentle) correction, and Skye's subsequent yelping through the yard. After the first five or six time she's been taught this lesson, I'm no longer concerned. Instead I yelled, "I hope it burns and I hope it teaches you I mean what I say."Because that's effective dog training.
She does this thing where when I have all the doors in the house open and I'm puttering in the kitchen, she just wants to come in and lay near me. But it's usually at a time when I'm barring all dogs from being in the house so I have the following conversation:
Her feet cross the thresh-hold.
"Outside."
Her eyes go downcast and she takes a couple more steps into the dining room.
"Skye, outside!"
She throws a meek glance my way and cowers a little closer.
"You know what I'm telling you. Now, outside. No dogs in the house right now."
She's got her ears back now, her eyes are sad, she's still cowering and getting closer.
"I said outside."
Ears still back, eyes sadder, and still scooting towards the direction of her favorite spot in the kitchen where she can lay and see where I'm at.
"Okay, as long as you lay there, that's fine."
My dog training is awesome.
I had a realization yesterday about my diet, and then it was solidified today when I read my friend's blog. I need to do what's right for me and my body.Duh.
But I think I got caught up a little bit in the numbers on the scale instead of remembering that the numbers don't really matter. It's about how I feel in my new (skinny) skin. There's a perfect number I'm supposed to weigh, according to a BMI calculator, and for a second I got really consumed in achieving that number.
The fact of the matter is: I might not reach that number, and I might not want to reach that number.
I need to celebrate the 48 pounds I've lost to date, and the fact that I can feel my now-pronounced collar bone, and that when I cross my arms, my hands are still surprised that the poky elbows I'm touching are actually mine.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Am I the only one who thinks, "I need to start making my own"?
You could call it my roots, or you could call it innovation.But a headline like that makes me think one thing: it's time to get out the dusty sewing machine from the crowded garage and start making my own. I've done it once before; I can do it again.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine's Day in review
I was looking back over my blog archives, curious to see what I've blogged about before on Valentine's Day, and imagine my surprise when no Valentine's Day posts existed.
Perhaps I was following suit with many of my single counterparts, and that is to ignore the day and pretend like it doesn't exist.
So maybe this post is indicative of how far I've come in my personal journey of really being okay with where I'm at. And even more than just okay.
Happy.
Satisfied.
Peaceful.
Comfortable.
For me, this day of love isn't about mourning what I don't have. It's about reveling in what I do have.
I have friends who make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world just by being my friend. Yes, even my married friends on Valentine's Day! One who still kept our Bachelor-night date. Another who promised me a date with a bottle of wine on her patio. And still another who jabbered with me while feeding her toddler baby girl. My family who I texted first thing this morning ("I love you. Happy Valentine's Day) and the random non-obligatory texts I received throughout the day - friends who actually did want me to have a happy Valentine's Day, and not just because they pitied my relationship status.
I made 52 Valentine's Day cupcakes last night. I sent enough with Mom to work today for her to distribute them among 3 departments at the hospital. My work got some. My little sister's softball team would've had some if she'd remembered to take them.
The point is - today was about loving people, and being loved.
And celebrating who's in your life to love.
Perhaps I was following suit with many of my single counterparts, and that is to ignore the day and pretend like it doesn't exist.
So maybe this post is indicative of how far I've come in my personal journey of really being okay with where I'm at. And even more than just okay.
Happy.
Satisfied.
Peaceful.
Comfortable.
For me, this day of love isn't about mourning what I don't have. It's about reveling in what I do have.
I have friends who make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world just by being my friend. Yes, even my married friends on Valentine's Day! One who still kept our Bachelor-night date. Another who promised me a date with a bottle of wine on her patio. And still another who jabbered with me while feeding her toddler baby girl. My family who I texted first thing this morning ("I love you. Happy Valentine's Day) and the random non-obligatory texts I received throughout the day - friends who actually did want me to have a happy Valentine's Day, and not just because they pitied my relationship status.
I made 52 Valentine's Day cupcakes last night. I sent enough with Mom to work today for her to distribute them among 3 departments at the hospital. My work got some. My little sister's softball team would've had some if she'd remembered to take them.
The point is - today was about loving people, and being loved.
And celebrating who's in your life to love.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
She told me to!
You know how when you're five years old and you steal a handful of M & Ms from the candy jar, and then when confronted, you point at your younger sibling and sob, "She told me to!" ?
That was me Thursday.
I got home from work and decided to take a run outside.
She told me to!
But when my triathlete friend suggested I start running outside in preparation for my Tough Cookie duathalon in 23 days, I don't think she meant to run outside in 33-degree coldness with a sore throat, headache and low grade fever.
I really think this decision has to go down as one of Holly's 100 worst.
I ended up walking more than I ran, didn't even make it a mile, spit repeatedly, and cursed out loud.
Today might be a good day to run outside. It's 70-something, the sun is shining and my fever is gone.
But what's the fun in that?
That was me Thursday.
I got home from work and decided to take a run outside.
She told me to!
But when my triathlete friend suggested I start running outside in preparation for my Tough Cookie duathalon in 23 days, I don't think she meant to run outside in 33-degree coldness with a sore throat, headache and low grade fever.
I really think this decision has to go down as one of Holly's 100 worst.
I ended up walking more than I ran, didn't even make it a mile, spit repeatedly, and cursed out loud.
Today might be a good day to run outside. It's 70-something, the sun is shining and my fever is gone.
But what's the fun in that?
Friday, February 11, 2011
all creatures small and great
The newest addition to Life is my Road Map (and our house) is Piper, a teacup Yorkshire Terrier who weighs approximately 14 ounces.
She is my sister's 16th birthday present (read between the lines: not my dog)
Skye is my dog
Will is not my dog
Zeb isn't a dogHe's been the family patriarch for 12 years
Dubar is a horse, of course
So is Ten Bears
The 14-ounce teacup Yorkie is bossy
Dubar is a horse, of course
So is Ten Bears
The 14-ounce teacup Yorkie is bossy
Thursday, February 10, 2011
permission to be sick
I gave myself permission to be sick yesterday, and today I woke up with a sore throat and headache.
Do you ever make deals with yourself?
I do it all the time.
"You've worked 12 hours today; let's not focus on the freelance article, and sit down and watch American Idol."
"In exchange for cleaning the kitchen and living room, you can go one more day without cleaning your room."
"For 20 minutes of extra sleep in the morning, take a shower tonight."
"If you stay an extra two hours in the office this afternoon, you can work from home tomorrow."
I'm a big believer in delayed gratification, but it feels good when I get some instant stuff too. And for me, instant gratification are these little deals I make with myself.
My past two weekends have been pretty hectic, and every night this week I've only slept 5-6 hours, which is my own fault. But, still.
So yesterday I gave my body a little permission to be sick. Not like full blown illness, but just the ability to be a little sick.
"You know what, it's been a long, busy two weeks. You can get a little sick if you want to."
So I did.
Do you ever make deals with yourself?
I do it all the time.
"You've worked 12 hours today; let's not focus on the freelance article, and sit down and watch American Idol."
"In exchange for cleaning the kitchen and living room, you can go one more day without cleaning your room."
"For 20 minutes of extra sleep in the morning, take a shower tonight."
"If you stay an extra two hours in the office this afternoon, you can work from home tomorrow."
I'm a big believer in delayed gratification, but it feels good when I get some instant stuff too. And for me, instant gratification are these little deals I make with myself.
My past two weekends have been pretty hectic, and every night this week I've only slept 5-6 hours, which is my own fault. But, still.
So yesterday I gave my body a little permission to be sick. Not like full blown illness, but just the ability to be a little sick.
"You know what, it's been a long, busy two weeks. You can get a little sick if you want to."
So I did.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
targets ???
We leave the house in the mornings a little rushed.
It's usually 7:35. Generally, I've been up for at least an hour and have all the horses fed, the dogs let out, the vehicle started for optimal warmth, I've gotten ready, made sure everyone is up and rolling, and in recent days I've been making breakfast and coffee, which we sit down and eat. Yes, it takes another 10-12 minutes out of our morning, but we've all agreed so far that it's worth it.
We still leave the house in the mornings a little rushed.
But sometimes there's some things that make me stop in my schedule-driven tracks to consider my scenery.
Like Tuesday morning, for example. And three upside down Pepsi bottles stuck in the ground along the driveway.
"Um, what are these doing out here?" was my question directed to Micah.
His answer is quite logical for a country boy.
Target practice.
Ah, makes perfect sense.
It's usually 7:35. Generally, I've been up for at least an hour and have all the horses fed, the dogs let out, the vehicle started for optimal warmth, I've gotten ready, made sure everyone is up and rolling, and in recent days I've been making breakfast and coffee, which we sit down and eat. Yes, it takes another 10-12 minutes out of our morning, but we've all agreed so far that it's worth it.
We still leave the house in the mornings a little rushed.
But sometimes there's some things that make me stop in my schedule-driven tracks to consider my scenery.
Like Tuesday morning, for example. And three upside down Pepsi bottles stuck in the ground along the driveway.
"Um, what are these doing out here?" was my question directed to Micah.His answer is quite logical for a country boy.
Target practice.
Ah, makes perfect sense.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
anatomy of a horse auction
I earned another notch in my agricultural belt yesterday.
I could sum it up in one sentence (I sold three horses at an auction yesterday) but what's the fun in that?
Up to yesterday, I was a horse-auction-seller virgin. Well, not anymore. My innocence was willingly relinquished, and I'm proud to say it, and relieved too because we have three less (horse) mouths to feed.
The exciting day started at 6:30 a.m. with feeding everyone (horses, I mean), and catching the three we were selling. Next, it was off to the veterinarian at 8 a.m. with Mindy to get a negative Coggins test on each horse. That was supposed to take 20 minutes; we were there two hours.
All this sounds simple, but there's so much involved. First of all, catching them, which for two of them turned into a 30-minute ordeal. One of the horses we were selling I knew quite well. The other one is barely broke and the other one I knew nothing about. So I didn't know how well they were going to load in the trailer, if I could unload them safely at the vet's office, and how well they would stand tied up to the trailer while everyone got their blood drawn for the test.
It all went alright.
Mindy and I sat in the warm vet's office, and watched all the animals come and go, and we talked the entire two hours about whatever-you-talk-about-in-a-vet's-office-for-two-hours. If you've never done it, you should try.
Then it was off to the auction. In true Holly-fashion, we took a wrong turn. But what's an adventure with me without at least one turn-around?
At the auction barn, we were directed to the wrong people for registration, but finally found where we were supposed to go. We pulled the trailer through the barn, unloaded the horses, and tried to figure out what the heck we were supposed to do.
I texted my brother, "I don't know what to do if it's a price I don't want. I have so many questions!"
He called me. And walked me through the process.
By the time the tack auction was over, it was nearly 2:45. Mindy and I ate a delicious hamburger and spent nearly the entire tack auction talking. But she had to leave me and then I was alone.
I went out to the horse pens and started riding one of our horses around, and as it turned out, I was the first in line for the auction.
Some dude grabbed my horse's bridle and started to walk me in, but I stopped him to dismount before my head was wiped out by the low entrance. So we got into the ring, and I got on him again, which isn't something I like doing in front of people! But I did. And despite the fact that I was so nervous and shaking, I rode him for a solid 7 minutes in the auction ring, which looks like this:
We went from one end to the other, trying to gain enough speed to get him into a trot for a couple strides before hitting the fence and turning around. Back and forth, back and forth. I gave information to the auctioneer's helper, who told the auctioneer who blasted it over the intercom. He asked me if the price was okay. I said yes.
First horse - sold.
I called Daniel and told him the price. He was glad to hear it so that made me feel better. I was afraid I'd sell them for an unacceptable price.
The next horse I wasn't going to ride through, but I paid a cowboy $25 to do it for me. I went in the ring and did the whole passing-of-information, and nodded my head "okay" for the final price.
Second horse - sold.
The last horse I led through. She was barely broke and that didn't go too well for me. She was so spooked by the whole situation and nearly ran me over a few times. My ninja-like reflexes saved me.
Third horse - sold.
And finally, at 3:45 p.m., my nerves settled a little. I was going home with an empty trailer and a check.
I was happy.
There are a lot of things to note about a horse auction.
I could sum it up in one sentence (I sold three horses at an auction yesterday) but what's the fun in that?
Up to yesterday, I was a horse-auction-seller virgin. Well, not anymore. My innocence was willingly relinquished, and I'm proud to say it, and relieved too because we have three less (horse) mouths to feed.
The exciting day started at 6:30 a.m. with feeding everyone (horses, I mean), and catching the three we were selling. Next, it was off to the veterinarian at 8 a.m. with Mindy to get a negative Coggins test on each horse. That was supposed to take 20 minutes; we were there two hours.
All this sounds simple, but there's so much involved. First of all, catching them, which for two of them turned into a 30-minute ordeal. One of the horses we were selling I knew quite well. The other one is barely broke and the other one I knew nothing about. So I didn't know how well they were going to load in the trailer, if I could unload them safely at the vet's office, and how well they would stand tied up to the trailer while everyone got their blood drawn for the test.
It all went alright.
Mindy and I sat in the warm vet's office, and watched all the animals come and go, and we talked the entire two hours about whatever-you-talk-about-in-a-vet's-office-for-two-hours. If you've never done it, you should try.
Then it was off to the auction. In true Holly-fashion, we took a wrong turn. But what's an adventure with me without at least one turn-around?
At the auction barn, we were directed to the wrong people for registration, but finally found where we were supposed to go. We pulled the trailer through the barn, unloaded the horses, and tried to figure out what the heck we were supposed to do.
I texted my brother, "I don't know what to do if it's a price I don't want. I have so many questions!"
He called me. And walked me through the process.
By the time the tack auction was over, it was nearly 2:45. Mindy and I ate a delicious hamburger and spent nearly the entire tack auction talking. But she had to leave me and then I was alone.
I went out to the horse pens and started riding one of our horses around, and as it turned out, I was the first in line for the auction.
Some dude grabbed my horse's bridle and started to walk me in, but I stopped him to dismount before my head was wiped out by the low entrance. So we got into the ring, and I got on him again, which isn't something I like doing in front of people! But I did. And despite the fact that I was so nervous and shaking, I rode him for a solid 7 minutes in the auction ring, which looks like this:
We went from one end to the other, trying to gain enough speed to get him into a trot for a couple strides before hitting the fence and turning around. Back and forth, back and forth. I gave information to the auctioneer's helper, who told the auctioneer who blasted it over the intercom. He asked me if the price was okay. I said yes.
First horse - sold.
I called Daniel and told him the price. He was glad to hear it so that made me feel better. I was afraid I'd sell them for an unacceptable price.
The next horse I wasn't going to ride through, but I paid a cowboy $25 to do it for me. I went in the ring and did the whole passing-of-information, and nodded my head "okay" for the final price.
Second horse - sold.
The last horse I led through. She was barely broke and that didn't go too well for me. She was so spooked by the whole situation and nearly ran me over a few times. My ninja-like reflexes saved me.
Third horse - sold.
And finally, at 3:45 p.m., my nerves settled a little. I was going home with an empty trailer and a check.
I was happy.
There are a lot of things to note about a horse auction.1) There are some sad horses. One Arabian had a hole in her chest, and another couldn't walk.
2) I don't like horse traders.
3) There's a science behind horse auctioneers and their cronies. It was explained to me once, but I forget. I do remember it's shifty.
4) I was probably the most nervous horse-auction-seller virgin ever.
Walking in the door at 6 last night with a check and three less horses was a wonderful, wonderful feeling.
A wonderful, wonderful feeling.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Tough Cookie
I could copy and paste it, but instead I'm directing you here to read my newspaper column this week FOR SOME EXCITING NEWS!!
Go read it, and then come back here. Hurry now!
Okay, so now you know I'm 'competing' in the 2011 Tough Cookie Duathalon!!!
!!!!!!! what am I thinking !!!!!!!!
I'm telling myself I'm going to be alright with just crossing the finish line. But if truth be told (and I like telling the truth) it'd be freaking awesome to break a record!
Freaking awesome? Yes.
Likely: No.
Family members are laying bets on how fast I'll run my 1.6 miles. My brother's (offensive!) guess was 20-something minutes. For 1.6 miles!
After the half-mile I ran last night, it's a completely reasonable guess.
I was winded, but not bad. But I really had to coax myself through the last three-tenths of the brutal half.
I'm *trying* to take it easy while also realizing I have 30 days to "get ready."
The possibility of me dying through this process is likely, though as a friend reminded me yesterday, I was born dying. So why not speed up the process by tripping and falling on the tread mill, which didn't happen last night, but probably will by the time all's said and done.
I'm not the most graceful of athletes.
Oh, speaking of athlete, upon successful completion of the race, I will forever and always want to be referred to as Holly: The Duathlete.
"Hi, do you know my friend Holly: The Duathlete?"
"This is my Duathlete Daughter Holly."
"Meet my 90-year-old duathlete grandmother, Holly."
Eeeeek!!! I'm so excited.
Special thanks to all my super-athletic friends who've given me splendid advice over the last 30 hours and have helped me modify my already-extremely-modified diet for proper protein, carbs, etc.
Oh, AND!! I'm so excited for EVERYONE who's going to race WITH me, including two, maybe three sisters, my brother's girlfriend, a couple friends and a couple coworkers.
And love to my mom, who even if the sun goes down and I still haven't crossed the finish line, I know will still be waiting for me.
Now, enough of the mamby-pamby sentimentalism. Time to get down to business for this Tough Cookie.
Go read it, and then come back here. Hurry now!
Okay, so now you know I'm 'competing' in the 2011 Tough Cookie Duathalon!!!
!!!!!!! what am I thinking !!!!!!!!
I'm telling myself I'm going to be alright with just crossing the finish line. But if truth be told (and I like telling the truth) it'd be freaking awesome to break a record!
Freaking awesome? Yes.
Likely: No.
Family members are laying bets on how fast I'll run my 1.6 miles. My brother's (offensive!) guess was 20-something minutes. For 1.6 miles!
After the half-mile I ran last night, it's a completely reasonable guess.
I was winded, but not bad. But I really had to coax myself through the last three-tenths of the brutal half.
I'm *trying* to take it easy while also realizing I have 30 days to "get ready."
The possibility of me dying through this process is likely, though as a friend reminded me yesterday, I was born dying. So why not speed up the process by tripping and falling on the tread mill, which didn't happen last night, but probably will by the time all's said and done.
I'm not the most graceful of athletes.
Oh, speaking of athlete, upon successful completion of the race, I will forever and always want to be referred to as Holly: The Duathlete.
"Hi, do you know my friend Holly: The Duathlete?"
"This is my Duathlete Daughter Holly."
"Meet my 90-year-old duathlete grandmother, Holly."
Eeeeek!!! I'm so excited.
Special thanks to all my super-athletic friends who've given me splendid advice over the last 30 hours and have helped me modify my already-extremely-modified diet for proper protein, carbs, etc.
Oh, AND!! I'm so excited for EVERYONE who's going to race WITH me, including two, maybe three sisters, my brother's girlfriend, a couple friends and a couple coworkers.
And love to my mom, who even if the sun goes down and I still haven't crossed the finish line, I know will still be waiting for me.
Now, enough of the mamby-pamby sentimentalism. Time to get down to business for this Tough Cookie.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
(un)Reality TV
I watch it. And I enjoy it. The days of my week are organized by many things and one of those things is what evening is what reality TV show I like.
So while I might dread the passing of my weekend, Monday is made all the more tolerable by knowing the Bachelor is waiting for me when I get home.
The Bachelor....
It's a date night with multiple people - Kristin from far-far away, my little sister and my brother. My mom usually catches the end of it with us when she gets home from work.
I like Brad. He's from Austin, nice-looking, progressive. He's also dumb for keeping Michelle around and the show should just be ended right now with a marriage between him and Emily. Although, the fact that he keeps Michelle makes me wonder if he's worth anything. And if he's worthless then he's not for Emily who my sister and I agree is perfect.
There is nothing about Emily I don't like. No thing. If he sends her home, I'll stop watching. I do think she'd make a great candidate for the next Bachelorette, though.
Chantal is annoying and I thought her behavior childish last week.
Shawntel's date cracked me up the whole time. And the corkscrew popping off unexpectedly topped the whole dinner off.
Alli can stop whining anytime now.
Michelle can jump off a bridge and Ashley can wipe the fake smirk off her face.
The Biggest Loser ....
Tuesday night is spent in the recliner crying usually. This show is about so much more than fat people losing weight. People complain about "Jillian's mouth" and say they mute the show. Those people are missing out and probably need a little of "Jillian's mouth" in their face.
She's all about getting people to see past the exterior of their obesity and into their hearts. She realizes that the weight is a symptom and in order to fix it, they have to get to the bottom of the cause. And if yelling and cussing is the way to do it, more power to her.
The Yellow team is one of my favorites, but I really love Courtney. I think ultimately the competition will be between her and Rulon of the Yellow team.
Arthur should be losing more weight (he's the heaviest Biggest Loser contestant ever), and Q needs to focus.
Dan (or was it Don?) did good at home, which I was not expecting after he threw the weigh-in. Can't believe Irene went along with that idea, but good for her for losing 8 pounds this week.
I think it's funny that the new trainers are star-struck by the ranch and Bob and Jillian.
American Idol ...
I haven't watched the talent show for a few years, and when this season started I wasn't planning on it. I wasn't sold on the new judges. But Elsie started recording it, and after a couple weeks, I was sucked in. There's something endearing about people who think they sing (and clearly cannot) and the humble few who just do their thing. As a matter of fact, what started out as family viewing time turned into me watching it alone last week. That's when I knew I was officially hooked. For how long I don't know, but for now it is what it is.
My favorite quote so far this season...
"My dad is not a hippy. Hippies believe in.....seeexxxxx."
Precious boy.
The man whose fiance is disabled made me cry. I like the girl whose interning at the White House and I laughed out loud at her Monica Lawinsky joke.
"I'm an intern at the White House and I reallllly love our president...but not in the Monica Lawinsky kind of way."
The last girl who auditioned last week in Nashville was alright. Didn't really hear anything to get too excited about.
And yeah, I like the new judging panel. The size of Steven Tyler's mouth scares me sometimes, and I wonder about the authenticity of some of JLo's tears, but they're keepin' it real.
As it turns out, American Idol airs Wednesday and Thursday nights right now, which is kind of presumptuous to occupy two nights of our week yet we watch.
So that's my (un)reality TV watching, and I know this might alter your opinion of me. But I have it on good record that I'm not the only smart, educated, professional woman who indulges in some on-screen drama.
On-screen drama means it's not my drama, and I kinda dig that.
So while I might dread the passing of my weekend, Monday is made all the more tolerable by knowing the Bachelor is waiting for me when I get home.
The Bachelor....
It's a date night with multiple people - Kristin from far-far away, my little sister and my brother. My mom usually catches the end of it with us when she gets home from work.
I like Brad. He's from Austin, nice-looking, progressive. He's also dumb for keeping Michelle around and the show should just be ended right now with a marriage between him and Emily. Although, the fact that he keeps Michelle makes me wonder if he's worth anything. And if he's worthless then he's not for Emily who my sister and I agree is perfect.
There is nothing about Emily I don't like. No thing. If he sends her home, I'll stop watching. I do think she'd make a great candidate for the next Bachelorette, though.
Chantal is annoying and I thought her behavior childish last week.
Shawntel's date cracked me up the whole time. And the corkscrew popping off unexpectedly topped the whole dinner off.
Alli can stop whining anytime now.
Michelle can jump off a bridge and Ashley can wipe the fake smirk off her face.
The Biggest Loser ....
Tuesday night is spent in the recliner crying usually. This show is about so much more than fat people losing weight. People complain about "Jillian's mouth" and say they mute the show. Those people are missing out and probably need a little of "Jillian's mouth" in their face.
She's all about getting people to see past the exterior of their obesity and into their hearts. She realizes that the weight is a symptom and in order to fix it, they have to get to the bottom of the cause. And if yelling and cussing is the way to do it, more power to her.
The Yellow team is one of my favorites, but I really love Courtney. I think ultimately the competition will be between her and Rulon of the Yellow team.
Arthur should be losing more weight (he's the heaviest Biggest Loser contestant ever), and Q needs to focus.
Dan (or was it Don?) did good at home, which I was not expecting after he threw the weigh-in. Can't believe Irene went along with that idea, but good for her for losing 8 pounds this week.
I think it's funny that the new trainers are star-struck by the ranch and Bob and Jillian.
American Idol ...
I haven't watched the talent show for a few years, and when this season started I wasn't planning on it. I wasn't sold on the new judges. But Elsie started recording it, and after a couple weeks, I was sucked in. There's something endearing about people who think they sing (and clearly cannot) and the humble few who just do their thing. As a matter of fact, what started out as family viewing time turned into me watching it alone last week. That's when I knew I was officially hooked. For how long I don't know, but for now it is what it is.
My favorite quote so far this season...
"My dad is not a hippy. Hippies believe in.....seeexxxxx."
Precious boy.
The man whose fiance is disabled made me cry. I like the girl whose interning at the White House and I laughed out loud at her Monica Lawinsky joke.
"I'm an intern at the White House and I reallllly love our president...but not in the Monica Lawinsky kind of way."
The last girl who auditioned last week in Nashville was alright. Didn't really hear anything to get too excited about.
And yeah, I like the new judging panel. The size of Steven Tyler's mouth scares me sometimes, and I wonder about the authenticity of some of JLo's tears, but they're keepin' it real.
As it turns out, American Idol airs Wednesday and Thursday nights right now, which is kind of presumptuous to occupy two nights of our week yet we watch.
So that's my (un)reality TV watching, and I know this might alter your opinion of me. But I have it on good record that I'm not the only smart, educated, professional woman who indulges in some on-screen drama.
On-screen drama means it's not my drama, and I kinda dig that.
glasses are falling off my nose + ramblings
Who knew that a side effect of weight loss were loose-fitting glasses?
Uh-huh, that's right.
My not-so-fat-anymore-face is too small for these bad boys to stay on my nose.
It's pretty great.
Uh-huh, that's right.
My not-so-fat-anymore-face is too small for these bad boys to stay on my nose.
It's pretty great.
At 11 last night, I decided it was the perfect time to deep clean the coffee maker, wash the stainless steel teapot, load the dishwasher, scrub the back-splash, clean the oven hood, pack my lunch, and generally speaking, tidy-up.
I Facebooked about my midnight activities and someone suggested "hormones."
Hormones could also explain my crying-over-spilled-milk. And late softball practices and too much work and a stupid yard sale assembly.
Hormones could make sense.
It is really cold in Central Texas, I'm not going to lie. It's about 20 degrees or something ridiculous like that. Last night I was out in the wellhouse with my little sister wrapping pipes with insulation. My hands were numb. My brother drove up and cheerily asked us what we were doing while I was bent over the pipes and I snarkily replied, "Just trying to keep the water pipes from freezing." Well, our efforts were in vain (our pipes froze anyway) and I issued a public apology to him via Facebook for being rude. (I am rude sometimes, you know.)
Every night I have to make a special concoction for our old dog who doesn't like to chew hard dog food anymore. I soak his food in hot water, and throw an egg on top. He gets so excited while he's watching me make it. It's cute.
The past two mornings we've had a hot, sit-down breakfast before the kids go to school. Yesterday it was oatmeal and English muffins; this morning it was instant cream-of-wheat and toast. Nothing fancy or time-consuming (we only allot about 15 extra minutes for sitting down and eating), but they reportedly enjoy it. Typically they grab a bowl of cereal or granola bar, but I guess it's the act of sitting down and visiting a little bit before the day gets underway.
It's time for me to go sort through my e-mail inbox.
Coming up soon, though - my reality TV indulgences.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
from my point of view
It's cold in Central Texas, but I laughed this morning when my paper referred to this snap of chilly weather as an "arctic cold front." I think my friends in Cloudcroft, New Mexico would laugh too.
Anyway, this cold front was expected and since it was 70-something degrees yesterday, I took the opportunity to photograph some things from my point of view.
Have you ever picked up a pair of someone's crocs and thought, 'I should take a picture?'
The spring-like air was awesome circulating through our house. That was yesterday. Today, the front door is deadbolted to keep the draft out.
He wanted to come inside, but was not allowed.
It didn't matter that I was walking around in the living room; she still had her eye on me.
Anyway, this cold front was expected and since it was 70-something degrees yesterday, I took the opportunity to photograph some things from my point of view.
My Skye-baby, who sometimes I threaten to sell on Ebay. But I haven't yet.
Will has the softest, kindest brown eyes, and he enjoys sitting next to me.
I don't sweep every day, but I probably should.
Have you ever picked up a pair of someone's crocs and thought, 'I should take a picture?'
The spring-like air was awesome circulating through our house. That was yesterday. Today, the front door is deadbolted to keep the draft out.
He wanted to come inside, but was not allowed.
It didn't matter that I was walking around in the living room; she still had her eye on me.
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