No Heros or Villains

One of the biggest faults I've ever been known to have is trying to find blame within myself when I have none to burdeon. Sometimes this causes me to do things that will further mess things up and finally I will have a valid reason to blame myself for things going wrong. It's a viscious cycle and I'm ready for it to stop.

I'm ready for a lot of things to stop... I'm ready to stop going on like tomorrow won't come, like I won't be ok, like I'll be abandoned yet again in my life. Because that's not going to happen. There will always be another tomorrow. I'm a survivor and I will always be ok in the end. And I won't be abandoned. Not now or ever. People care about me and love me. When one door closes a window will open. When one bridge gives way, a swing will appear. There is always another way - as long as 'surviving' it all is the end result.

It's not the end of the world. For a while I thought maybe it was. I thought I was standing on the shores of Shymia and looking out into the ocean, thinking to myself what my childhood t-shirt said... "It's not the end of the world, but I can see it from here."

Well, it's not the end of the world. It's breathing space. It's room to move. It's the lack of pain, suffering and wondering, at least for me.

There are no villains or heros in this story. Nobody is at fault, nobody is to blame. Nobody is going to swoop down and carry away all of our problems. Superman doesn't exist this time around. There will be no miracles. There will be no divine intervention. This is what it is. That's all.

No point in crying over it or getting depressed and feeling like I can't get out of bed. No sense in laying still for hours on end because I lack the motivation or will power to get my head off of the pillow. No more sleeping in order to hide from the inevitable. I'm not to blame. I shouldn't feel like it's the end, because as it was so bluntly put by someone else yesterday, it's NOT.

There are no heros.
There are no villains.
This isn't a story from the past.
This isn't a fictional novel I'm reading.

This is real. This is now. This is me. This is LIFE.

It's not the first time I've found myself in this kind of situation. I know I will be just fine. I always am. I just need to get in gear to make sure that happens.


Yep.
The redhead in me has returned.

Weight of My World

I am mentally exhausted and yet I can not sleep.

It's amazing how quickly life can change. I once heard it said that life is what happens when something else is planned. Boy, is that ever true.

I've seen changes in many directions since the spring of 2009, but never in my life has it had such an impact on my mental state or emotions. I find myself drained - lacking all motivation or drive, wondering what's going to happen, knowing that my entire life hangs in the balance, resting comfortably in the hands of someone other than me.

I have nobody to blame but myself. I put myself in this situation. But I can't hang in the balance too much longer. I MUST do something about this, and I will.

I've always been a strong person, even when I didn't know it. It took a precious friend to point that out to me recently, and I can't thank her enough for that. I always find that I have that fire in my belly when I need it most ,and I know when the time comes it will return full force. I've done and seen enough in this life to know how to survive with nothing but the clothes on my back, and though I really wouldn't want to ever be there again, I know I would pull through it just fine as I always have before.

I often wonder if I was ever really meant to be happy. While I often screw things up for myself and I have a long history of poor choices, I've also been known to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've had it all, only to have it pulled out from under me like a Persian rug. I've given up so very, very much, only to get very little in return. I've been promised the world and denied everything but food and shelter in the same breath.

I've been too trusting, too patient, too loving and too generous. Well, I just don't seem to learn. Time and time again I find myself wondering what I've done wrong and what I've done so bad in my life to end up feeling like this, feeling like my whole world is crumbling around me, crushing me under the weight of the world. It's not the first time I've found myself wondering what's going to happen to me.

I have an enormous weight on my shoulders right now and I can NOT lift it on my own - YET. I can feel that strength bubbling up, but right now it hasn't even gotten past my calf muscles. I know, without a doubt, that by the time the fire bubbles to my finger tips, I will have all the strength I need to hurl that weight off my shoulders and straight to the moon.

It's not here yet, but it's not long in coming. When it gets here - look out world - THE REDHEAD WILL BE BACK IN ACTION.

October 1 2009

Simple flashback - I wrote this on October 1st of last year. I won't likely forget this day anytime soon.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I wasn't feeling well the other day (not sick, just internal issues) and y boss told me to go home, he would pay me anyway. I didn't want them to rack up overtime for someone else because of me so I stuck it out. I guess that spoke volumes of my work ethic and now they are more determined than ever to keep me around. It's a great feeling. Finally, a job and boss that believes in me. Yay!

Well, I ended up getting worse during the day. By the time I got home I was walking around the house like Quasimodo. I went to the Emergency Room last night... turned out it was my kidneys. I have such a severe infection that it's spread throughout my body making it hard to swallow and, at times, even breathe. They said I should be in EXCRUTIATING pain, unable to walk, much less drive myself to the ER. They said there was no way I had worked the past two days on my feet like this and the Doc said I had to be lying about it. I guess I've got a high tolerance for pain. The guy was blown away when he asked what I had been taking for the pain and I said nothing. "Not even Aspirin?" Obviously he hadn't read my file... I'm allergic to aspirin. But I hadn't even taken Tylenol. I'm practically choking on the stuff now, forcing it down my throat as quickly as I can because it just got so intense I couldn't take it anymore. If I have a high tolerance for pain and feel like this NOW, I don't ever want to know what it's like to be someone else and be at this stage. For that matter, I don't ever want to revisit this pain in my own skin.

I took 800 mg of Ibuprofen last night and it made me nearly delirious. I said something to a friend of mine over the phone about wanting a body pillow with a face on it so I wouldn't be so lonely while I was sick. I'm wondering where that came from, though I clearly remember saying it and thinking it was a perfectly normal thing to say. I was most adamant about it having a face.

I guess it goes without saying that I took the day off work today... but I plan on going back tomorrow. The ER doc gave me some Sulfur based antibiotics... I'm also allergic to penicillin. I truly hope that does the trick, because my roommate is moving his wife in and I have to be out by then. I'm screwed and can't save up money for rent. I also think that there's been some sort of confusion about rent. I paid $500 last WEEK and was told by him that it was for last MONTH. So that means I owe another $500 THIS week. Sounds to me like I'm getting screwed over - especially if they need me to save up so that I can move out soon. I can't even find a place I can afford, much less save up for a deposit.

The doctor said I need to see a specialist and get some blood work done. I don't know how much that's going to cost for a girl without medical insurance yet. Another 23 days and I will have insurance, but if there IS something seriously wrong with me, it will be seen as a pre-existing condition if I go in now. When I do get it, my insurance wont take care of a pre-existing problem. I can't afford to screw up my credit again the way I did for a life-and-death cyst many years ago. I'm still recovering from the credit issues there.

So, I'm in bed for the day, searching for any comfortable position I can get, and finding that to be an unreasonable and unrealistic mission.

The moral of the story here - it doesn't matter how much water and cranberry juice you drink (those are my two favorite drinks in the whole world) you can still develop MAJOR kidney problems. The kidneys and other internal organs are things ya really don't want to mess around with. If you've got pains and you know it's not just a sore muscle - GO TO THE DOCTOR....

Canned Food

Shadow was such a great little dog. When we first got him, he could fit into my mothers cardigan pocket when she walked the mile to our mailbox. He sat there safe and warm inside, his little paws and tiny head poking out of the top, watching the world go by. He could fit into the palm of her hand when he was only 6 weeks old. We all thought he was the cutest thing that ever lived.

Just like children, dogs have poor height perception when they're really young. My brother once broke his toe at 3 years old by jumping off of a dresser while pretending to be Superman. Likewise, when Shadow was still very little, he took a flying leap off of my brothers top bunk and we believe he broke his leg. We didn't have the money to take him to the vet, so we let him limp a bit for a couple of weeks, swearing that if it didn't get better, we would take him in. Until he was very, very old it never bothered him after the first two weeks. The arthritis eventually caused him to limp a bit after another 15 years or more.

We have a habit of feeding our pets the dry food that comes in bags. I do that to this day with my cats, occasionally breaking routine to give them a special treat on special occasions like Christmas or their birthdays with a single can of moist cat food for them to share. They gobble it down like they've not eaten in weeks because it's something new and exciting. I never give them more than the tiny little can to share though, and that's a lesson Shadow and my mother taught me many years ago.

We hadn't had Shadow for very long. He was doing just find with the puppy chow Mom bought for him. I loved his little puppy breath back then - except just after he ate the puppy food. Mom thought the food caused his breath to smell badly too, so she decided to bring in a bit of variety and see what worked best for him.

We tried a variety of dry foods first. Each had the same results as the last. The day she brought home the canned food was a day none of us will ever forget.

She opened the can and instantly the house smelled like sour beef stew. It was a horrible smell with chunks of beef and bits of gelatinous brownish-gray gravy. She pulled out the one spoon in the drawer that had been chewed up so many times with the garbage disposal that none of us ever used it anymore for fear of cutting our mouths up, and walked over to his little blue plastic food bowl. He followed her at a fast trot, barely keeping up with her slow strides. He somehow beat her to the bowl and sniffed heartily at the base. She nearly dumped the wet food right on his head.

My brother pulled Shadow back out of the way and mom put a single scoop of the gross glop into his bowl. Shadow raced over, stuck his head in the bowl and began gulping faster than a starved man eating prime rib. In three solid bites, he turned and looked up at my mother, a ravenous hunger in his eyes. He LOVED it!

(Photo taken March 14th of 1997)

Mom put half of the contents of the can into his little bowl. It heaped over the top just a tiny bit, but in seconds, he was lapping it down like a bee with nectar. His long tongue flicked in and out, collecting as much of the horrible smelling stuff as it could, then chomping on chunk after chuck of beef until there were none left. It was gone in less than 2 minutes. He looked at my mother wanting more.

She hesitated, but she said out loud that if he was full, surely he'd stop eating. She held onto the can for a long time, and when 30 minutes went by with him still looking at her as though he was starving to death, she finally put the rest of the contents into his bowl and we sat to watch tv for a while.

A few minutes later, a faint grunt could be heard not far away. We looked around but failed to find the source. It had sounded like an elderly man trying to stand up, a long and drawn out "humph" sound. We went back to watching tv again and a few minutes later we heard it again.

"Huuumph" it sounded. "Rhhhhumph." Puzzled, we looked around again. Shadow was sitting by his polished bowl not moving. My brother was in the chair. Mom was next to me on the couch. There was nobody else around for at least a mile. "Huuumph."

As we sat watching, Shadow tried to stand up and stumbled. His front legs spread out in front of him, but he didn't fall. Instead, he lowered about an inch closer to the floor where his distended belly stopped him from going any lower. He grunted again. Mom burst into laughter.

"He ate that whole damn thing," she shouted in amazement. Amused, my brother and I went over to look. Sure enough, the bowl had been licked clean and Shadow was the fattest puppy with toothpick legs we had ever seen. His black fur stretched around his stomach in almost exactly the same shape as the 16 ounce can the food had come out of in the first place. It was as if he had swallowed the whole can with the food still inside it! His belly sounded like a watermelon when we went to pet him, and another adult sized puppy groan escaped his throat. He waddled over closer to the couch and collapsed onto his side. We never gave him canned dog food again.

"Hhuuuuuummmmmpppphhh!!"

Wired Shut

While I was White Water Rafting down the middle of the Colorado River, my mother was getting surgery on her jaw. I wasn't there for the surgery so I don't know what the rest of the family was going through - only what happened once I got back. It's a memory I had forgotten long ago until my memory was jogged while writing my story about the White Water Weggie.

Dad had to do all the cooking in the house for a while. Mom was on some incredibly strong pain killers. Her jaw had been broken in two places and moved forward a quarter of an inch on both sides. The doctors said her lower jaw had stopped growing when she was about 7 years old. The surgery was necessary.

She was on a liquid diet while the wires held her jaws clamped together. She could barely mumble out the words she wanted to say, and for the first few days upon my return she had to write everything down on a notebook and have us read it. This was more than unpleasant for her. She was miserable. Even her liquid diet had to be taken with a syringe. I won't go into details about how it operated, but everything had to somehow end up behind her wired teeth.

Laughing, or even smiling, was incredibly painful for her. She smiled quite often when I was young. She still loves to laugh. This was one of the hardest tasks bestowed upon the family, not to say or do anything funny around her for a total of 6 weeks. When a family is as strange and funny as mine is, I'm sure you can imagine how often we had to walk away from her in order to stop from causing her pain at something we had thought of or wanted to say.

We all pitched in around the house. My brother and I did the laundry (except the unmentionables they hid in the bedroom until Dad had a chance to take care of them), we would cook on the occasion Dad was gone and it was just us taking care of her, but most of the time he did the cooking while she was laid up. We would get her books from the book shelf, fetch the TV remote, grab fresh pillows and blankets and just take care of her the best we could. After all, she had always done that for us when we were sick.

Mom was in the living room one day when I started to hear this gurgling scream coming from the back of her throat. I was standing in the kitchen at the time getting her a drink. I had no idea what was going on, but I went charging into the living room, full steam ahead. She sat there with tears rolling down her face holding her jaw on both sides.

"TRN IT UFF!" She screamed at me behind clenched jaws. "Trn it uff! Trn it uff!" She screamed over and over, trying to kick the TV remote over to me. She was sobbing!

Without even noticing what it was she had been watching, I switched the TV off as quickly as possible and sat down at her feet, wanting more than anything to make her feel better. She was obviously in agony.

Suddenly her eyes lit up and she giggled. That made her scream again and the tears once more rolled down her cheeks. Then she giggled again, which made her cry again. It was a wicked cycle she went through for a good ten minutes. It wasn't funny, and I hated seeing my mother in pain, but her occasional giggles made me want to giggle, which I knew would be even worse because everyone knows giggles are infectious. Finally I had to excuse myself and walk back into the other room. There, I burried my face in a hand towel and giggled to my hearts content. By the time I went back into the room, she was doing much better. She looked up at me and whimpered "I'm sorry," as best she could through the mesh in her teeth.

"What happened?" I asked innocently enough. I shouldn't have. At the mere thought of whatever it was, she giggled again and the whole viscious cycle repeated once more.

Weeks after the brutal mess was taken out of her mouth, she told me what had made her laugh so hard that day.

"Manda, you know how I don't like vulgar comedians?"

"Yeah," I said, knowing even the "S" word or using the word Hell too often would drive her insane.

"What I was watching that day was by accident. I was flipping through the channels and I came across this comedian talking about how he once knew a guy who had all of his fingers on both hands cut off in a saw mill accident."

"Well that doesn't sound funny at all!"

"He said that the guy took up being a thief because he couldn't find a job since all he had were two thumbs. He said the guy would steal donuts all the time." She mimicked the action he would have needed to use by holding her thumb up in the air, stabbing through the center hole of an imaginary donut and holding it proudly over her head." Finally he stole donuts from a shop that all the cops ate at all the time, and it made them all mad so they arrested him.

"Well, he decided later on that he was going to clean up his act and go straight. The problem was that he still couldn't find work with only two thumbs. He couldn't dig ditches or type or do anything for anyone without fingers. Frustrated, he decided he'd start over in another town. Without fingers though, he couldn't grab a steering wheel and so he couldn't drive. Instead, he decided to take up hitchiking."

At this point I was already grinning ear to ear over her hand movements describing the donut thief. While continuing the story, she had carefully folded all of her fingers inward, making sure to poke ther thumbs out as far as possible. She looked like Fonzy from Happy Days. Suddenly she started laughing hysterically.

"Hitchiking?" I asked.

"Yeah - he was great at flagging down the cars with that thumb sticking out" she waved her hand through the air again mimicking the actions needed, including stabbing at an imaginary door handle with her thumb, "but once they got pulled over he couldn't get the car doors open! Finally he got frustrated and yelled at them 'Oh Hell, just go on!'"

My mother roared, and her laughter made me light up as bright as a Christmas tree. I laughed right along beside her. I always loved to hear her laugh.

She swore that day she would find out who that comedian was so she could watch the show again, but try as I might I can't seem to find it anywhere on the internet, to purchase or watch on Youtube. I can't help but think that would have been a great birthday gift for her this year.

If anyone out there has any
information on the comedian
I'm talking about, please
contact me with a link - either
on facebook or by leaving a
comment below. Any and all
help is greatly appreciated.

Mine for Tonight

Hold on to me
Lead me on all you like
I’ll smile for you now,
But you’ll leave me later tonight.

Keep reaching for my hand.
It’s here for you to hold
I can feel myself falling for you
But I shouldn’t be so bold.

Tell me I’m the only one.
Leave me with a smile.
Later I’ll have time for doubts.
I want to be happy a while.

Spend all the time you can
Taking me out with you.
It’s not until we’re really apart
That I’m ever feeling blue.

I know I’m not the only one.
You’ve told me that yourself.
I’ll mourn the day I loose you
And you place me upon that shelf.

But for now you’re mine each day
I’ll never take that for granted
I’ll smile at you and kiss your neck
And hope to God you're enchanted.

You’re mine for tonight.
I’ll hold you as long as you allow.
I’ll run my fingers through your hair
And live for here and now...



Amanda Martin
08/07/06

Blind Mans Bluff

Mike and Travis were twins that had my heart from the day we met. I was in the 5th grade and the brothers had different classes. Mike was in my class while Travis was in the rival 5th grade room. It goes without saying that Mike had my undivided attention. When Mike asked me to 'go out' with him, it was still at the youthful age when kids didn't hold hands. We just called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

I doted on Mike. He was a bit chunky and short while Travis was tall and lean, but they had identical faces and I adored them both. They were sweet and handsome, kind and genuine. They were also rather popular in class. Both were considered to be the class clowns.

When Valentines Day rolled around, Mike and I had been 'going out' for about two months. He didn't want anyone to know, including his own brother, because I wasn't one of the popular girls. He was afraid it would damage his reputation. I found out on Valentines Day that he also had a crush on another girl in our class.

When the class got done handing out all of the Valentines cards to each of the other students, we all got back in our seats for a fun activity. Mike stayed a little long at Summer Sparks desk, though - and my curiosity got the better of me. I watched as Mike pulled a little black velvet box out of his pocket and set it on her desk before walking away. The teacher asked all of us to take our seats, looking directly at Mike as he did.

Summer opened the little velvet box and her jaw fell open. I had to wait until recess to find out what was inside, but when I found out I was furious. Mike had given her a small silver ring made entirely of entwined hearts. I wanted to slap him across the face!

Patience took hold of me though. I knew I would get my revenge. I just had to wait and be patient.

The following week as we were walking to lunch, I asked Mike if he wanted to play Blind Man's Bluff. He asked what that was and I explained the game.

"You have to walk with your eyes closed and I will guide you by putting my hands on your shoulders and tell you what's coming up. Then you do the same to me. You go first."

"Ok," he said, blindly trusting me. He still didn't know I was aware of the ring he had left on Summer Sparks' desk. He closed his eyes and I stood beside him, my hands on his shoulders.

As we walked slowly to the lunch room, I guided him over rocks and pavement, grass and tree roots. Just as I could tell he was starting to relax and truly trust me, I did something despicable. I walked him straight into a brick wall, nose first.

Mike fell backward, landing like a lead weight, heaped on the ground. He fell with a thud, right on his bottom. His eyes popped open, flooded with tears. He reached both hands up to his face and held his now bleeding nose. For a split second, I felt badly about what I had done. Then the image of the velvet box entered my mind and suddenly remorse didn't exist. I felt justified.

"Oh," I exclaimed with false worry, "are you ok, Mike?" I clasped my hands over my mouth to cover the smile I felt working its way onto my face.

"Whadya do that for?" he asked, stunned. Suddenly I exploded. What good was my revenge if he didn't understand why I had sought it in the first place?

"Why'd you give Summer Sparks a silver ring with hearts all over it?"

Mike's jaw fell slack. He stared up at me, incredulous.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I saw the ring. Why did you give Summer a ring and just gave me the same paper Valentine you gave all the other girls in class?"

"My brother won that in a quarter machine. He's going out with Summer. I didn't give it to her, Travis asked me to drop it off at her desk! Travis gave it to her!"

Shame and remorse kicked in full force - and I never sought revenge against anyone ever again.

Night Thoughts

The Beep beep beep as a truck backs up somewhere in the distance...
The rumble of the motor when it finally stops, purring somewhere in the darkness...
The sounds of the passing cars on the street...
A truck revs its motor at a stop light, ready to roar off into the night...

I hear it all from my bedroom on the third floor.
I see it all clearly from the window.
These things that would annoy or pester most everyone I know are the things that lull me to sleep at night when I'm laying here alone.

It's nights like this I miss having someone there with me the most. He's out there, and I can only pray he's thinking of me right now, too... waiting for me, wishing for me... wanting me...

I close my eyes and let the slight dizziness from complete exhaustion take over me for a moment. When I open my eyes again, dawn will have broken and the world will be waking up again. I will have made it through another lonely night.

Someday ...
Someday it wont be like this.
When that someday comes, it will never be like this again.

Sleep, take me now. Guide me into sweet thoughts and dreams. Let me see, if only for a few hours with my eyes closed, exactly the way I imagine life should be.

Horse Farm Arthritis

My knees are bothering me a little today. Its a strange thing, this arthritis. I feel as though Im too young at 30 years old to have it, but yet it plagues me. My mother warned me about it, but I guess I just never really believed, or wanted to anyway.

My mother warned me about arthritis in my foot. When I was 15, I broke my foot in 3 places playing football with a friend. The bones were never set, and instead I limped about in a bulky cast for 6 weeks, only to have an odd lump on the top of my foot afterward. Mom was convinced I would have arthritis before long in that foot. To this day it doesnt bother me.

My arthritis stems from another adventure all together. It comes from a horse farm. Yes, a horse farm.

I was only 19 years old when I went to work at Cadron Creek Arabians. I lied to get the job. I loved horses so much that I just knew this was the perfect job for me. When they asked if I had experience, I told them all about taking care of a sick friends horses which never actually happened. Rather, the friend got so sick that he had to sell his horses. It wasnt long after that his health finally gave out and Jerry passed away peacefully in his sleep, in Clearfield Utah.

So the story goes that I began to work at Cadron Creek Arabians in Quitman Arkansas back in 1999. I loved my job! I got to roam fields just filled with beautiful mares, feeding them, bathing them, brushing them, and during my first month there, assisting in the birth of a new foal. The horses were almost all straight Egyptian Arabians, with bloodlines fully traceable back to the time of Alexander the Great. They were proud horses with tiny ears, huge eyes, graceful necks, and the most beautiful gait Id ever seen.

I got used to my job. I even got to know a few of the mares and was very close to them. There were two in particular that were outcasts because they were not the precious straight Egyptian bloodline. One was a Russian Arabian named War Princess, the other was a Polish Arabian named Sonrisa. They were both lovely and I adored them. But because of their lineage, they had been, I dont want to say mistreated, but perhaps not treated with the same courtesy and kindness the others had been treated with. War Princess was a beautiful Bay with long black stockings and a tiny white streak in her pitch black tail. But this is the story about Sonrisa.

Sonrisa was a beautiful and elegant Gray who had an incurable disease called EPT. The way it was explained to me, this disease made her legs completely numb, which in turn made her rather skittish. This EPT was a fatal disease. She tended to prance a bit since she couldnt feel where she was stepping. I think that would make me nervous, too! Sometimes the other people working on the farm would get frustrated with her and smack her on the butt with the reigns when putting her out to pasture, as though they were in a Wild West movie.

It took me months to get her to where she would allow me near her with reigns of any kind. I worked with her for what felt like ages before she would trust me at all. At first I bribed her with sugar cubes and carrots. Usually I just left the reigns behind and didnt mess with them. Then one rainy day it was time for a vet check and guess who was sent after Sonrisa to put her in the stocks? Im sure you've guessed already. Me.

I tied the reigns around my foot so she wouldnt see them I went out to her as I normally would, one hand extended, palm up. She came to me as she had been doing for the past week, nuzzled my hand, and then reached down to pick at the grass around her hooves. Her beautiful silver mane cascaded around her head, the matching tail swishing at the flies near by.

When I reached out and put my hand on her flank, her dappled gray body quivered. I ran my hand slowly down her legs, getting her used to my movement. I was about to do something with her Id not done before. I wanted her to be prepared for anything. My hands went down to the hoof, and back up again coming up her back against the grain of the hair, lightly scratching as I went. I got to the base of her mane and her head lifted. Her lower lip began to tremble as though she were trying to tell me how good my scratching felt, so I lingered longer. I lifted my hand higher, stroking under that beautiful silvery mane as I went. Finally I reached her head. I ran my hands over her face, her ears, her eyes, her nose, and finally under her head.

I reached behind me and lifted my foot. The reins came with it, silently and unnoticeable - part of the reason I had paid so much attention to her face and eyes. I untied the reigns as I played with her face a little more, and finally was able to manage getting one side around her head. She didnt budge. It was as though she finally trusted me where she wouldn't ever allow anyone else to go. I fastened the bridle on her elegant head and began to walk with her. She came along as obediently as a well trained Golden Retriever.

One of my coworkers, Keely, who had been working at the farm for many years reached out to touch her nose and Sonrisa reared up instantly. I immediately stepped in to calm her. I walked right in front of her, put my hand out with the palm up, and bent my knees slightly, making myself smaller. She lowered herself, nuzzled my hand, and calmed immediately. That was the day I gained the respect of my coworkers.I got her all the way to the vet stocks and marched her right in, with everyone I worked with standing in astonishment at the ease to which I accomplished this task. I clipped the stocks closed behind her and removed the bridle. Her head moved not an inch. She stood as still as a marble masterpiece.

I went to gather some hay into the back of my farm truck to feed to the mares while the Vet was doing his inspections. I wanted to have a nice surprise for Sonrisa when she came back to her stall later. She had earned it. The rain started coming down harder, and the wooden ladder was starting to get slick, so I climbed the bails of hay instead. I was climbing high into the loft to gather a few of my hidden sugar cubes to hide in the bottom of her feed trough when I lost my footing and came down hard. When I saw the bed of the truck looming before me, coming faster by the second, I twisted in midair somehow. By doing this, I caught my foot between a couple of hay bales and my body suddenly was jerked to an excruciatingly painful halt, leaving me dangling from the bales like a rag doll stuck in a tree. I cried out in pain, as anyone would. Somewhere off in the distance a horse whinnied aloud.

My foot finally came free of the hay, my knee feeling like it was being torn in half, and I plummeted the rest of the way down to the bed of the truck where I hit with a thunderous explosion of crunching body parts on a hard metallic surface. Moaning, I wrapped my arms around my knee. It had already begun to swell. My Wranglers were feeling tighter by the second.

I got up, leaving the truck where it was. I limped the 100 yards or more to Sonrisas stall and finally opened my hand. The sugar cubes were slightly crushed, but she'd still have a treat when she made it back. I turned around to go back to the truck, and there stood Keely right behind me.

"Everything ok? Sonrisa started screaming out for no reason a minute ago. The vet told me I was upsetting her, so I thought I'd come up here for a minute. It's funny, though. Nobody was near her when she started screaming."

My mind flashed back to when I hung from the hay, dangling like a loose thread from a hem. I remembered hearing a horse scream. Could that have been my Sonrisa? Did she hear me? Did she love me as much as I loved her?

About a month later, it was decided that I was in need of surgery for some severely torn cartilage in my knee. I was to fly down toFlorida in order to have it done. Little did I know I would never have the surgery, and would instead find myself homeless for the first time in my life. But thats another story.

That leaves me here, now, feeling arthritis from a horse farm. I wouldn't trade that day or that memory for anything in the world.

Old Injury

I missed my blog post today and knew that I had to put something up for you guys before midnight. Briefly I'll tell you why I missed out today and have about 15 minutes to make up for it...

About 10 years ago when I was pregnant, I was climbing up into a very high pickup truck in order to head to the Doctors for an appointment. As I braced with my left hand in order to climb up, I eased myself onto the running board. I lost my balance. I felt and heard a distinctive "snap" in my wrist - I had snapped a ligament.

I didn't go to the doctors for my wrist. I ignored it and just took it easy for a while. The pain wasn't much and didn't think it warranted a visit. Today, and in fact for the past week, I've been wishing that I hadn't been so stubborn about it back then.

I've worn an ace bandage around my wrist for the past week. It began to hurt around my thumb and eventually I started to loose my strength in that hand. It elevated to intense pain anytime my wrist bent in even the slightest degree.

This morning I bought a wrist brace and now I'm having a very hard time typing at all. Still, here I am telling you my stories each day because I know you're out there waiting, listening, reading and wondering where I am.

I'm here - but I'm hurting. Please be patient with me. I'll make up for it with an incredible story tomorrow about a Ren Faire Romance, complete with photos.

Until tomorrow -

Friends and Heros Have Birthdays Too

When I got the text message, it took a few minutes for my mind to make sense of it. I had been working long, hard hours lately and things weren't clicking into place like they should have.

"Hi Manda Lynn. Today is my Birthday. I am with my mother at my apartment. Doesn't have to [be] today [or] even next week.. But I am very ill. I was close to death..."

His text message cut off there. My mind reeled, my heart raced, and I grabbed for my keys before remembering I knew the town but not the address for where my friend lived. Immediately I sent a text back.

"What is your address. I will come over RIGHT NOW."

His text continued just then.

"... not long ago. But if you were so kind... a Black and White movie night even if at my own [place] in my bedroom with a chaperon would be nice. I miss you."

It took a few minutes to get any other response. I called a mutual friend of ours to let him know what was going on. Instinctively I knew that he would be worried, but for him to do exactly what I had planned on doing myself meant a lot to me AND to my old friend. He told me "get his address, I'll meet you there."

His next text was his address and I made a mad dash for my car. As a bit of an after thought, I tossed my uniform into the passenger seat. Unfolded and thrown violently, it ended in a spread mess from the back of the seat to the floor, dangling like a loose thread from a jacket. I squealed tires out of there.

On my way I made a few calls. I managed to get the night off work through a little effort, and I haphazardly laughed at the condition of my uniform. It didn't matter anyway. I cried my eyes out and swerved through traffic before realizing I was almost out of gas. I had to fill up or I wouldn't make it there!

Still making calls to get the shifts covered at work, I stood outside of his apartment for a few minutes gaining my composure. Our mutual friend arrived with his wife, and the three of us went up.

Here was my dear old friend, laying face down on the couch. His cheek bones protruded, his temples were sunken, his eyes were hollowed out, but he still had those beautiful blue eyes. He looked up at me weakly and smiled. Me being me, I ran to his side and held him for a long time, kneeling on the floor beside him. I kissed his cheek and held him close, telling him that I was glad to see him. He was thin, but he was still very dignified and wise.

At first his concentration was almost gone. He couldn't pay attention to one thought for very long. He had been very ill. Friends and family gathered around, and yet all he could do was talk to his most recently arrived guests. Struggling at first, he sat up tall.

It didn't take long and my dear friend was talking as he normally would. His family noticed a slight change already. He had a spark back to his eyes they hadn't seen in a while.

"I nearly asked her to marry me," he said to our mutual friends about me. He patted me on the knee, kissed my cheek, and smiled a genuine, heart felt, loving smile. I knew in my heart he was joking. Everyone smiled. "She was always so bouncy and fun, she brightened up my day each time I saw her. She made things better," he said, smiling a little more. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his cheek back.

When I first met this man, he was my boss. He was what my old company called the Post Commander for the Security Operation where I worked. It was my first day and he seemed almost frightened of me. Still, right off the bat we got along.

I worked with a crew of all guys back then. I knew that I wanted to be treated like one of the Guys, I didn't want special treatment from anyone just because I had hips. In order to make a good impression, I did something I hadn't done since childhood...

In the corner of the office in a small glass case sat a very large, very hairy red spider. It was a tarantula to be exact, a Chilean Fire Spider. Instantly I knew how to win Kudo's points with all the guys I was going to be working with. I didn't want them to think me prissy or girly.

"Oooh! Can I hold it?!"

My boss looked up from his paperwork and laughed. "Really?" He sat there, stunned. "Most of the guys scream like little girls and run from the room when she comes out of her terrarium." He laughed to himself.

We had many things in common, this friend and I. We often spent hours after work just talking about old movies and fine cigars. We had moments over the next few months where he and I were able to help one another. We had philosophical and religious conversations and debates. He was the one who made me open my eyes to the thought of being married to my ex for the rest of my life. He made me rethink my decisions and future. He was right. He was and remains a wise man.

He taught me almost everything I know about Security, about being a boss, a leader and a friend all at the same time. He trained me to do the job I'm doing now without my ever knowing it. He told me as we sat there that I had been his greatest success.

"You know," he addressed our friend as he put an arm on my cheek, "I wanted to marry her if she would have me."

Thinking he was either joking or feeling his illness, I chuckled. Our friends smiled. We all moved on.

Evenutally our friends left and I stayed there. I ate with the family, I helped sing Happy Birthday to him, and I cheered him as best I could. Hours later, he repeated those words that rang so clearly in my head, when I told myself he had been joking
around with me.

"Mom, do you remember about a year ago when I told you there was a girl I wanted to ask to marry me?"

"Yes, Honey" she said to him, smiling at me.

"This is her."

Suddenly it dawned on me. I meant so much to this man that he had wanted to marry me. He knew that he wouldn't be around forever and that there really wasn't anything we could do about it, but he wanted to spend what remaining days he had in my company. I cried again, unabashedly, on his shoulder.

He's a fighter. He's not done yet. He even says himself that he's not fulfilled his destiny and he has so much left to do in this world. I'll do everything I can to help him accomplish those goals. I would risk life and limb for this man, as I know he would do for me.

There are certain people in our lives we call friends. Others we call family. There are even some friends that are as close to us as family. This one person, this friend, is so much more than any of those categories. I have loved and cared for this man since the day I met him. He is a true kindred spirit. He would never judge me or "disagree" with how I live my life. I can't imagine this world or this life without him in it.

He is my Friend.
He's been my guide.
He'll always be my hero.




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