It's been a hell of a year. There have been major highs, and major lows. Joy, sorrow, and always plenty of love.
MattG asked the question on his blog, "Are you better or worse now than a year ago?"
The answer, for me, is better.
I'm back in school after a long hiatus, working towards my goals and my dreams, I've met a lot of great new people, started on the road towards getting my training business started, and made a lot of progress with Monkey.
I have friends and family who I love and who love me, horses to play with, people to teach and to learn from, and opportunities that I have no intention of allowing to pass me by. My grades for the semester were everything I could have hoped for and more, and the pride I felt was totally worth the late nights and headaches.
In the new year, I'll keep working for my goals, keep working on my horses, and add new responsibilities and opportunities to my list.
Resolutions? No, no resolutions, I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. I wouldn't change a thing.
Well, ok, I might could do with some... ahem... companionship.... in the new year, but really, that's secondary. If you put a new training challenge and a new guy in front of me, I'd probably be so far gone on the back of that horse that you couldn't see me before he could ask for my number.
Which might explain why there aren't men beating down my door.....
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Company!!
I've had more company in the last day than I had the entire semester.
My friend and his sister made it in yesterday, Tev and her husband stopped by yesterday evening, and T came to see me last night, because we were watching The Bourne Ultimatum. Which, by the way, is excellent!
E was hoping to head back around midnight last night. I haven't heard if he did or not, I'll probably get a call sometime today.
The apartment looks at lot smaller with three people six feet tall and over in it.... No really. I feel like mini-me. Hmph.
My friend and his sister made it in yesterday, Tev and her husband stopped by yesterday evening, and T came to see me last night, because we were watching The Bourne Ultimatum. Which, by the way, is excellent!
E was hoping to head back around midnight last night. I haven't heard if he did or not, I'll probably get a call sometime today.
The apartment looks at lot smaller with three people six feet tall and over in it.... No really. I feel like mini-me. Hmph.
Friday, December 28, 2007
It Appears...
That I owe a lot to LawDog and Ambulance Driver in terms of my readers. In honor of that, I decided to tell an EMT story and a cop story, which both have the same star.
Back in my shady past there was a guy I once knew. We'll call him John. (Farmmom, Farmdad, shush.) John's father is a doctor, and in a compromise between what John wanted, and his father's desire that John follow in his footsteps, John became an EMT. He was pretty danged good at it, too. I told him once if I ever had to be strapped to a backboard with my clothes being cut off, I wanted him to be the one doing it, because I knew he'd be focused on the medical stuff and not my hooters. Of course, John being John, he'd never let me live it down afterwards.
So, John being the highly efficient and serious EMT that he was, and our area's Emergency Response capabilities being what they are, he always kept a kit in his personal car, just in case. See, we don't have the ambulance standing by at all times. They have to contact the EMTs, who then haul ass to the ambulance barn and get the rig, and then proceed to whatever emergency there is.
John stayed prepared just in case.
One night, we were all hanging out at a mutual friend's house, with a bit of drinking. Mutual Friend's girlfriend had a sister in town, and John was in heat. The sister was enjoying the attention, giving a little mild flirting without crossing the line.
Well, John got started talking about his job as an EMT, and the sister, in the mild flirting spirit, began asking questions.
"How exactly do you do an IV? I've never had one."
Cue ominous music.
True to the behavior of the male homo sapiens in rut, John began his posturing ritual, ran to his car and got his emergency kit, and showed her. He placed a needle, explained the process as he did, and removed the needle. He did everything right, even making sure that he put the used (and covered) needle in the pocket on his bag that he used for his used sharps. She was entranced.
Cue ominous music again.
"Can I try?"
"Um. Sure."
Well, she followed instructions and placed the needle, everything was fine... then she pulled the tourniquet.
John yelped, applied pressure, pulled the needle, and washed everything down. Then he put away his bag in a corner, to be returned to the car later. He gave the sister a couple of dirty looks, but she batted her eyelashes, and all was forgiven, and he returned to the barnyard dance in short order.
He also returned to the drinking in short order.
A small explanation here. At this point Mutual Friend had a small dog that had a habit of running out the front door every time it was opened, so he had installed a baby gate on the outside of the door to prevent the pup from getting run over. On the other side of the gate was a concrete porch.
We'd been stepping over the gate going in and out all night, and John, after his fourth or fifth shot of Goldschlager, had been startled at it's magical appearance on the other side of the door.
John being John, he was on a mission that night to get a ticket for indecent exposure. Why? I don't know, he said he'd never gotten one before. So he was stepping out to the front porch to take a leak, rather than using the restroom.
Two beers and a couple of shots later, cue John's beeline for the front door. I, being a good friend, reminded him of the baby gate.
"John, don't forget the baby gate." No response.
"John! Don't forget to step over the gate!" Nada.
By this time he was at the door.
He swept open the door and kept on walking.
Or he tried to. The baby gate hit him at about knee height, but he had enough momentum that it carried him over the gate, to a perfect three point landing. Both elbows and his chin.
Out cold. Less than a minute, but long enough for all of us to get over to him and notice, and attempt to wake him up.
Of course, we had to tend to his road rash. So we used his own kit.
********
Later in his life, John decided to become a cop. One of the local small towns was entirely without a police force, and had been for a few years, so they agreed to hire him straight out of the academy. I figured it was pretty good for him, straight from the academy to Chief of Police. Since the little town was on the major highway that passes through the county, he liked to work traffic late at night. It kept him busier than working during the day.
I was bored, and decided to go do a ride-along with him one night. Met up at the Police Station (read: the garage with an office that was used as a police station) and signed the waivers, etc, and crawled in the squad car.
We talked and watched the radar, and he even let me push the buttons once.
Then he got one that he had to take to the jail, driving under revocation, no big deal. Since the jail was in the county seat, along with the single dispatcher for, well, everything, he called it in and we headed out.
Did I mention that the sheriff at the time was a family friend, and had known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper? And ditto with the rest of the jail staff?
When the dispatcher, who knew that John was coming in with an arrest, looked up and saw me following him through the door, she apparently blocked out the fact that there was another guy with us and he was the one in handcuffs.
"What did you do?!?!?"
"Nothing!"
"Then why are you under arrest?? I'm calling your mother!"
"I'm not under arrest! I'm his ride-along! That dude is under arrest!"
............... "Oh."
By this time the dispatcher had picked up the phone and begun dialing. Meanwhile, John is doubled over with laughter, and he can't even straighten up enough to put his gun in the gunlocker.
He called me "Criminal" for the rest of the night.
I called him "Porky" for a week.
Back in my shady past there was a guy I once knew. We'll call him John. (Farmmom, Farmdad, shush.) John's father is a doctor, and in a compromise between what John wanted, and his father's desire that John follow in his footsteps, John became an EMT. He was pretty danged good at it, too. I told him once if I ever had to be strapped to a backboard with my clothes being cut off, I wanted him to be the one doing it, because I knew he'd be focused on the medical stuff and not my hooters. Of course, John being John, he'd never let me live it down afterwards.
So, John being the highly efficient and serious EMT that he was, and our area's Emergency Response capabilities being what they are, he always kept a kit in his personal car, just in case. See, we don't have the ambulance standing by at all times. They have to contact the EMTs, who then haul ass to the ambulance barn and get the rig, and then proceed to whatever emergency there is.
John stayed prepared just in case.
One night, we were all hanging out at a mutual friend's house, with a bit of drinking. Mutual Friend's girlfriend had a sister in town, and John was in heat. The sister was enjoying the attention, giving a little mild flirting without crossing the line.
Well, John got started talking about his job as an EMT, and the sister, in the mild flirting spirit, began asking questions.
"How exactly do you do an IV? I've never had one."
Cue ominous music.
True to the behavior of the male homo sapiens in rut, John began his posturing ritual, ran to his car and got his emergency kit, and showed her. He placed a needle, explained the process as he did, and removed the needle. He did everything right, even making sure that he put the used (and covered) needle in the pocket on his bag that he used for his used sharps. She was entranced.
Cue ominous music again.
"Can I try?"
"Um. Sure."
Well, she followed instructions and placed the needle, everything was fine... then she pulled the tourniquet.
John yelped, applied pressure, pulled the needle, and washed everything down. Then he put away his bag in a corner, to be returned to the car later. He gave the sister a couple of dirty looks, but she batted her eyelashes, and all was forgiven, and he returned to the barnyard dance in short order.
He also returned to the drinking in short order.
A small explanation here. At this point Mutual Friend had a small dog that had a habit of running out the front door every time it was opened, so he had installed a baby gate on the outside of the door to prevent the pup from getting run over. On the other side of the gate was a concrete porch.
We'd been stepping over the gate going in and out all night, and John, after his fourth or fifth shot of Goldschlager, had been startled at it's magical appearance on the other side of the door.
John being John, he was on a mission that night to get a ticket for indecent exposure. Why? I don't know, he said he'd never gotten one before. So he was stepping out to the front porch to take a leak, rather than using the restroom.
Two beers and a couple of shots later, cue John's beeline for the front door. I, being a good friend, reminded him of the baby gate.
"John, don't forget the baby gate." No response.
"John! Don't forget to step over the gate!" Nada.
By this time he was at the door.
He swept open the door and kept on walking.
Or he tried to. The baby gate hit him at about knee height, but he had enough momentum that it carried him over the gate, to a perfect three point landing. Both elbows and his chin.
Out cold. Less than a minute, but long enough for all of us to get over to him and notice, and attempt to wake him up.
Of course, we had to tend to his road rash. So we used his own kit.
********
Later in his life, John decided to become a cop. One of the local small towns was entirely without a police force, and had been for a few years, so they agreed to hire him straight out of the academy. I figured it was pretty good for him, straight from the academy to Chief of Police. Since the little town was on the major highway that passes through the county, he liked to work traffic late at night. It kept him busier than working during the day.
I was bored, and decided to go do a ride-along with him one night. Met up at the Police Station (read: the garage with an office that was used as a police station) and signed the waivers, etc, and crawled in the squad car.
We talked and watched the radar, and he even let me push the buttons once.
Then he got one that he had to take to the jail, driving under revocation, no big deal. Since the jail was in the county seat, along with the single dispatcher for, well, everything, he called it in and we headed out.
Did I mention that the sheriff at the time was a family friend, and had known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper? And ditto with the rest of the jail staff?
When the dispatcher, who knew that John was coming in with an arrest, looked up and saw me following him through the door, she apparently blocked out the fact that there was another guy with us and he was the one in handcuffs.
"What did you do?!?!?"
"Nothing!"
"Then why are you under arrest?? I'm calling your mother!"
"I'm not under arrest! I'm his ride-along! That dude is under arrest!"
............... "Oh."
By this time the dispatcher had picked up the phone and begun dialing. Meanwhile, John is doubled over with laughter, and he can't even straighten up enough to put his gun in the gunlocker.
He called me "Criminal" for the rest of the night.
I called him "Porky" for a week.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Well, gee whiz!
I've been neglecting checking my Sitemeter, because, well, I've hit 10,000, and that made me giddy enough that I wanted to roll with it for a while.
Checked it tonight, and holy cow, I'm approaching 20,000! Ya'll still have about two thousand hits to get me there, but I've had over eight thousand hits in two months! And, I haven't really been that forthcoming with the stuff that I consider the "goods" so thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through the times when I really didn't have much to say, welcome to those who have recently discovered me, and I promise I'll try to get something good up soon.
I am curious though, about where everyone found me. So, if you're a regular, or semi-regular reader, leave a comment and let me know how you came to find my humble little corner of the internet, and what your favorite posts are.
I'm all for fan service, (and sometimes low on inspiration) so let me know what you'd like to see more/less of! You can also always email me and ask questions/suggest blog topics, the email is on my blogger profile.
Besides, as some of you may know, feeding my ego makes me want to write more :P
I'm gonna go ahead and offer the same thing for the 20,000th visitor as I did for the 10,000th, since that prize was never claimed. When I reach 20,000 hits I'll post about it, and the person that made the magic visit will get to pick a topic for me to post about.
I know, I know, I just told ya'll to give me ideas and ask me questions, but it's all I got :P
So, get those comments and emails rolling in!
Checked it tonight, and holy cow, I'm approaching 20,000! Ya'll still have about two thousand hits to get me there, but I've had over eight thousand hits in two months! And, I haven't really been that forthcoming with the stuff that I consider the "goods" so thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through the times when I really didn't have much to say, welcome to those who have recently discovered me, and I promise I'll try to get something good up soon.
I am curious though, about where everyone found me. So, if you're a regular, or semi-regular reader, leave a comment and let me know how you came to find my humble little corner of the internet, and what your favorite posts are.
I'm all for fan service, (and sometimes low on inspiration) so let me know what you'd like to see more/less of! You can also always email me and ask questions/suggest blog topics, the email is on my blogger profile.
Besides, as some of you may know, feeding my ego makes me want to write more :P
I'm gonna go ahead and offer the same thing for the 20,000th visitor as I did for the 10,000th, since that prize was never claimed. When I reach 20,000 hits I'll post about it, and the person that made the magic visit will get to pick a topic for me to post about.
I know, I know, I just told ya'll to give me ideas and ask me questions, but it's all I got :P
So, get those comments and emails rolling in!
A Relaxing Night At Home
So, since I have a few more minutes than I thought I would in between holidays, I thought I'd let ya'll know that I've survived the first portion, quite well.
I got a lot of great stuff from the family, all of which I love, and most of which I needed or wanted in the first place. The other stuff was stuff I didn't know I needed or wanted, until I got it. Although my family obviously thinks I'm a lush, I got a wine rack with four wineglasses (which jacks up the elegance of my apartment about four notches, as long as you don't pay any attention to the styrofoam plates on top of the microwave next to it...) and a margarita pitcher and set of four glasses. Plus a bottle of wine to toast the New Year with, although I've got the bottle of homemade strawberry wine that one of my friends and her husband made and gave to me last year in the rack now.
The battle between Farmmom and Farmdad over the new spiffy Olympus camera was highly entertaining (I told you to open that package, Farmmom!!!) and as soon as somebody emails them to me I'll post the best holiday picture (and future blackmail picture) of the year. (Hint, hint.)
Other than that, I'm just having a nice chilled out evening, company coming in Friday, and I have no idea when E is going to get here... He's hoping to be here by Sunday. We'll see.
I'm doing my best to stay far far away from stores until the after Christmas sale rush is over, because frankly I don't want anything that I can afford badly enough to brave that crap.
I got a lot of great stuff from the family, all of which I love, and most of which I needed or wanted in the first place. The other stuff was stuff I didn't know I needed or wanted, until I got it. Although my family obviously thinks I'm a lush, I got a wine rack with four wineglasses (which jacks up the elegance of my apartment about four notches, as long as you don't pay any attention to the styrofoam plates on top of the microwave next to it...) and a margarita pitcher and set of four glasses. Plus a bottle of wine to toast the New Year with, although I've got the bottle of homemade strawberry wine that one of my friends and her husband made and gave to me last year in the rack now.
The battle between Farmmom and Farmdad over the new spiffy Olympus camera was highly entertaining (I told you to open that package, Farmmom!!!) and as soon as somebody emails them to me I'll post the best holiday picture (and future blackmail picture) of the year. (Hint, hint.)
Other than that, I'm just having a nice chilled out evening, company coming in Friday, and I have no idea when E is going to get here... He's hoping to be here by Sunday. We'll see.
I'm doing my best to stay far far away from stores until the after Christmas sale rush is over, because frankly I don't want anything that I can afford badly enough to brave that crap.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Happy Holidays!
I'm finishing up the house cleaning I need to get done today, and tomorrow I'm headed for the Old Homestead for the family thing.
I probably won't be posting much until the new year, so I wanted to wish everyone happy, and safe holidays.
Remember, it's bad manners to strangle your family members at the dinner table. Wait until everyone is finished.
And, when celebrating New Year's Eve, "I'm gettin nekkid!" is not a resolution. Even if you're drunk.
I probably won't be posting much until the new year, so I wanted to wish everyone happy, and safe holidays.
Remember, it's bad manners to strangle your family members at the dinner table. Wait until everyone is finished.
And, when celebrating New Year's Eve, "I'm gettin nekkid!" is not a resolution. Even if you're drunk.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
You'd Almost Think She Read My Blog...
Shortly after I posted my holiday rant earlier, I got an IM from Farmmom. She'd just got off the phone.
The hosting aunt canceled Christmas Day for the second year running.
I'd be a lot happier about the reprieve if the warning had come earlier so that we could plan an actual holiday meal. We were planning on having a smaller thing Christmas Eve with the family here because of the big to do up there.
Plus, since Prissy Aunt canceled, Grandpa's plans are shot. So, he'll come be with us on Christmas Eve, but we don't really have anything on Christmas Day because of sister in law's work obligations, and our obligations at Prissy Aunt's house.
Next year, I'm not even planning on going. If Farmmom, Farmdad, Grandpa, and me aren't "worth it" too her (a direct quote, because we would be the only ones there... the rest of the family made their own plans) then she's definitely not worth it to me.
Yay family dynamics!
The hosting aunt canceled Christmas Day for the second year running.
I'd be a lot happier about the reprieve if the warning had come earlier so that we could plan an actual holiday meal. We were planning on having a smaller thing Christmas Eve with the family here because of the big to do up there.
Plus, since Prissy Aunt canceled, Grandpa's plans are shot. So, he'll come be with us on Christmas Eve, but we don't really have anything on Christmas Day because of sister in law's work obligations, and our obligations at Prissy Aunt's house.
Next year, I'm not even planning on going. If Farmmom, Farmdad, Grandpa, and me aren't "worth it" too her (a direct quote, because we would be the only ones there... the rest of the family made their own plans) then she's definitely not worth it to me.
Yay family dynamics!
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