Routine, practice, perfection, perfect-imperfection, falling down, laying in the dirt just to discover it is quicksand and looking up-grasping at ropes that are fraying and then finally catching hold of -something… That’s the point that I am at now. I’m still sinking but I can feel the frayed end of the rope.
Let’s flash back a little ways- first about myself- I promise it is not too impressive. I started riding horses at seven years old. The thirst I had for it was unquenchable. I was always at the barn. As an adult, real life stopped me in my tracks. Dreams became almost too distant and horses became a drug that I could no longer use. My husband and I started going out to Boone’s Farm and I was able to get in an hour a week of ride time on Saddlebreds! The power, the feel of their neck up in your hands and the sound of their breath like a freight train leveling with the beat your heart- then – there’s this brick wall- and I hit it as if I never saw it coming- maybe that is because I didn’t.
I woke up one morning in the worst pain of my life. My legs were so swollen you could leave indentations if you touched them. I could not walk and I had a 6 month old baby boy not to mention a job being a full time paramedic AND going to school full time. This was NOT the plan. I am a planner. If it’s not in my planner, then it does NOT happen. I know there is at least one person reading this who is nodding in agreement. Let me repeat…I do not have time for this but here it is staring at me like a giant bull that was facing a matador. It took doctors an entire year to diagnose me with Ankylosing Spondylitis and Crohns. There will be more on that on another day- I want to get to the cute and fuzzy lovey dovey parts right now.
Now my husband and I have a beautiful little farm in a valley with a creek and rolling pasture. The fence line isn’t weeded regularly and there’s a good deal of yellow bitterweed EVERYWHERE. My barn is a faded red and there are creepy crawlies just waiting to climb on me and leave a nasty red welp-because- you know- luck has it that way and my husband says that I am allergic to air so –whatever… But! here I am with a farm , 5 dogs, 4 cats, 3 chickens, 2 guineas and NO large animals. What on Earth is wrong with me!?! Oh yeah the whole “I’m only 28 but my body is slowly corroding away part….”
What would a good story be without social media, right? Our boys have been begging Santa for a calf and so far (thanks to SO many neighbors, family, friends etc..) Santa will be hauling a little brown calf to the boys this winter, but you can’t just have a calf, you need a protector-you need a donkey.
I mean EVERYONE needs a donkey. If you don’t think so then give me a week and you will be rescuing you a donkey too. One week ago I kept getting tagged on this post about a 6 year old jack (male donkey who still has his juevos). Oh my goodness, I fell ridiculously , unavoidably in love and made the phone call ( the first phone call should have been to my husband but you know, I wanted that donkey) . So crazy butt me calls up this animal control lady at 8 am on a Sunday morning as soon as we cleared a call. She tells me that this donkey was dumped out on the side of the road and everyone on this planet and on Mars wanted him… So I have all of my friends blow up this ladies email saying that I NEEDED this donkey. God heard my plea and was probably just as annoyed at me as the animal control lady was and God said “Let the crazy lady have the donkey!”
So now…here we are – me a constantly sick and tired 28 year old in a 80 year old body, married to a super hot wanna be donkey farmer with two wild toddler boys, who are so so excited to have added a really handsome, gawky, over sized chihuahua stuck in a long eared donkey body to their perfect mess farm.
I hope my life can inspire and challenge you . Please join me on this journey of Eat*Bray*Love.