Husband or Turd?

My job keeps me crazy busy in the spring and early summer and gives me some down time in the fall and winter.  This is great except I live with a husband who retired at 55 after 35+ years at the same job.  He's now 61 and pretty well settled into the retired life.  He loves it and deserves it.  But.....it makes for alot of togetherness during the winter when the weather is cold and snowy here.  We are both outdoorsy types but not so much the winter sport type.  I keep busy with my horses (which he is not an active part of other than feeding when I'm gone and stacking hay) artwork, cooking  and living life as a domestic goddess during my off time.  He, on the other hand doesn't do much in the winter. 

 Here's my trouble.  I had this brainy idea to begin some creative writing this year while I'm off,  something I've always dinked around with.  But to pay more attention to it and see what came of it.  The other day I was clicking away, my computer sits in a corner of a big dining room, and everytime he'd come near I'd panic and x out like I was doing something wrong!  And that's how it felt, sort of wrong in some self-concious, guilty way.
Errrrggh.  So I figured I'd just come clean and tell him that I'm experimenting with some creative writing.  I didn't go so far as to say the word "Blog" because I'm feeling even more self conscious about that.  His response first response was, of course, "huh?"  Then "oh that sounds like something S---- would be doing." 

S---- was a friend who we always poked a little bit of fun at (ok more than a little bit) because she was so into self improvement she was a cliche.  She wrote poetry, attended women's retreats where they did Tai Chi and drum circles and looked at themselves in all their special places with hand mirrors,  ad nausem.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for getting in touch with oneself, she was just too damn serious about it.

So comparing my little venture into creative writing to HER didn't sit real well with me.  Instead of laughing and agreeing and letting it go I had to go and get worked up for about five minutes.  Then I was over it.  That was yesterday morning and I'm still paying for my five minutes of drama by suffering the Silent Treatment.  Ok well he's not completely silent but very subdued.

I'm already feeling pretty self-indulgent about writing anything in a blog. I mean really, seriously how could anybody be interested in reading about what I do?   And then having the gall to actively seek out people to read it.  Yikes, who do I think I am?

I know that I don't want to share it with hubby that's for sure. Probably not even friends yet.  My question is, do other women who blog share it with their significant other?  Am I weird for feeling this way?  Am I married to an unsupportive turd?

Pumpkin Party

I channeled my inner child yesteday and carved three of the

big pumpkins that hubby grew

 

  Those cheap little carving saws they sell for pumpkin carving are great!  Why didn't I     ever use one of those before?  Anyway you can really carve them up lickety split.  Plus the guts of these pumpkins aren't all slimy like the store bought ones I've always had.     Anyway I was like a kid waiting for it to get dark enough to light 'em. 

                                    The orange cat posed himself perfectly.

                        Woke up to this!  Pumpkin party overnight or crime scene??

Say it Ain't So!

                            

Fickle fall weather never fails to get me when I'm not looking.   We actuallly got some snow in the higher elevations today and a dusting down here in the valley.    I say "actually" but it isn't abnormal at all for this time of year where I live.  The weather can change on a dime. That's why I never can figure out why the first major change of weather from Fall to winter-like is such a blow. 

 Even so, fall is my favorite time of year.   Maybe because it's so bittersweet.  I've always been a sucker for that kind of emotion.   Everything gets so bright and intense like it's saying "look at me, look at me!  I'm leaving soon but don't forget me!"

The garden was put to bed a few days ago,  more tomatoes on the ground than we harvested all summer.  But that's typical too, our growing season is short.

I'm glad to have gotten in one more camp trip with the horses last week.  I'm betting the canyon where we rode and camped is a winter freaking wonderland now.  I'm happy to report that the horses stayed where they belonged in camp this time.   I wanted to be extra safe so I bought new rope for the highline, even though nothing was wrong with the old, it was just, well, old.  The first night I heard a lot of hoof-pounding ruckus and there was the gelding sittin' like a dog with his back foot up over the leadrope. He had sort of  hogtied himself.  The new rope stretched like a rubberband.  Once that was dealt with the rest of the trip went smooth as silk.  We all agreed we'd never seen better fall colors.  Alot more than our usual yellows and golds.

So for now I'll keep those colors bright in my mind.  That'll have to do.

The Breakout

 I thought my horse shared a deeper bond with me than he does.  It’s a disappointment.

There we were camped on the edge of the wildnerness.. Staged and ready for  adventures into it.  Fall!  My favorite time of year.  Everyone had their own rig, we had food, drink and heaters!   This was to be one of our last camp trips before winter, yeeehaw!  And two beautiful rides we had before the Great Electric Fence Failure. 

Ever use an electric fence when you’re horse camping?  Don’t.  I’m pretty sure one of those couldn’t keep in a three-legged pony.   Between you and me, I totally blame the breakout on my friend’s horse.  My two would never consider doing a thing like that.  Right. Regardless. Much fun and frivolity was going on that night. We ate inside one of the bigger rigs for the first time that trip due to the wind.  And we toasted our good fortune and good rides and felt blessed to be doing what we love with dear friends. And we heard nothing. 

We started tracking at about 9:30 that night with headlights and flashlights.  Boy it was cold at 6500 feet in October.  Those damned horses were everywhere it looked like.  At a cattleguard they came to a screeching halt and called a meeting, which way to go?  They headed back, no they doubled back, no they went off into the sage. There they were on a side road, nope wrong again.  At about 1am we called it quits and waited for daylight.

It’s hard to lay down and think of sleeping though with  those black, black thoughts running around.  If this turns out badly, I’m DONE.  I’ve been tested too many times.    Where were those stupid guardian angels of mine anyway.  Off duty again?  What was life going to be like without horses when I was forced to call it quits?  It looked like an empty hole.  Linda Parelli’s horses would have come skittering back to her, jumped in her lap and probably kissed her.  My stinkin’ horse knows his name, he comes running across the field at home for a treat, why not now?   He lives for food, why not at least come back for the food?  One of them is badly injured, they’re all sticking together.  One of them may be dead, tangled in barbed wire with a broken leg. 

Morning and not much talking, just taking care of business and getting going.  Lot’s of driving, lot’s of hiking, lot’s of speculating.  No horses.  The most gentle amongst us  quietly and apologetically asked “do you have your gun, uh umm, just in case?”

A tiny patch in the sagebrush, point your cellphone just right at 5 degrees past Venus, a little left of Mars and voila, cell service! Calls were placed to the local authorities.  No local resources were available, best of luck to you. The guy at the Forest Service office said “so are you saying the horses were stolen?”  In hindsight why didn’t I say yes!  He said “have a nice day!” before he hung up.   I sort of lost it at that point.  Calls were placed to friends at home.  People were getting into place to help us on horseback tomorrow. 

Later in the afternoon, one more drive to the cattleguard area; one of us had a feeling.  There’s the stupid brown cow that looks like a horse from 500 feet.  No stupid, that’s the stupid brown cow.  Yes I’m sure.  I’m strung pretty tight and nothing or nobody is moving or thinking fast enough for me.  Hate it when I get this way.  All of a sudden I’m screaming, yelling and crying and my friend is freaking out.  Then she sees ‘em too, about 300 feet off in the sagebrush.   I slam the truck into park, jump out and start making my way thru the waist high sagebrush as fast as I can go. For some reason I’ve got one junior sized lead rope and a bunch of baling twine in my hand.  Damned if those stupid horses didn’t just stand there and stare at me.  Didn’t even offer to step a foot in my direction. Not like Linda Parelli’s horses.   It took forever to get there, I was sweating and panting and crying a little. Then the long walk back to camp with my friend driving the truck. 

The little mare left quite a lot of hide somewhere in her travels, the geldings seemed fine.  They were thirsty and hungry but no worse for the wear.  None of ‘em were talking.  We’ll never know their story. 

Guess I passed another test.  I don’t have to keep that promise to myself. Until the next test comes along.  Guess this means life won’t look like that empty hole.  Thank you guardian angels, thank you horse gods.  My horse doesn’t have that fairy tale bond with me that every girl wants it seems.  That’s okay.  I’ll take what he gives when he wants to give it.  And go back to using a highline.