My preferences lean toward stories sure to stretch my imagination and invoke vivid imagery, leading my mind to draw unspoken parallels between things which happen every day and things which just could not be. The little bit of fancy I find in some writing, well, it settles me and carries me off in the same breath, an intentional and socially accepted break from reality and the madness life occasionally throws at me, the things Stephen King might say lie ‘behind the purple curtain’.

This is not a book review. You either like the master of all things that live in storm drains and dress like creepy clowns, or you don’t. I’m just blogging and I have point which may or may not be a good one, so read on if it strikes you.

The likes of King and Koontz grace my shelves. They are more often than not the painters I choose to decorate my moments spent relaxing beyond the wardrobe. I’m currently listening to ‘Lisey’s Story’ by Stephen King on audio, because when I need to find a place which could not possibly exist, but wouldn’t it be cool if it did, King is my go to guy.

I’m only half way through, so the ending could still piss me off. A story sometimes unfolds in a way that leaves you wishing you could cane the hand gripping the pen. Ah, wouldn’t that be Misery.

Usually, King hooks me straight away. This time, I was not immediately entranced by the complex characters or promise of a most intriguing story about to unfold I usually find early on in his stories. Lisey, the main character, first emerges as a seemingly weak woman with no identity of her own. Her husband was a celebrated horror novelist who passed away and in the beginning of the story she is simply ‘Scott’s wife’, ‘Scott’s little Lisey’, ‘baby luv’ going through his study two years after his death with her most batshit crazy sister of the three sisters I can recall. From the present to a memory, back to the present, her perspective, her dead husbands’, her crazy sister, to one of her sane sisters, I experienced a few wtf’s until I caught the rhythm. From the start, I will admit I hated this weak Lisey character.

Kingisms, the strange words and idioms present in every one of his stories, start immediately and some are introduced with no clear contextual explanation. I almost wrapped my head on the steering wheel a time or two over references to ‘bool hunts’ and ‘blood bools’ and the ‘thing with the piebald side’ and the answers are all ‘behind the purple curtain’. The early chapters were difficult to stick with, but…

I found I can identify with the main characters sudden, delayed grief. I can identify with her purple curtain. I’ve staved a section of my mind to stash the things I can’t face on the regular. Let’s face it, if I referred to it as a curtain, it would be purple. I hide nothing as fanciful behind mine as the batshit craziness Lisey has stashed behind her curtain, but I’ve grieved for one too soon to leave this world. I realized I hate Lisey because she reminds me of something I was once, of some way I once felt. I keep listening. I’m not disappointed.

As he always does, the master of all things strange and well written takes me to a place which could not possibly be real, but the consideration of it’s existence warms me inside out like the touch of a comfortable lover. During the transition to this other place, the character I love to hate transforms into one mighty, ‘strap on when it seems appropriate (SOWISA)’, amazing woman, not at all just defined by the man whose memory seems to overshadow her even years after he is gone, but strengthened by his love, she morphs into a much more formidable, confident character than first presented.

The story isn’t over, but what I’ve heard so far made me consider an aspect of relationships I’ve never before given much thought. We all look for the obvious qualities in those we choose to partner with, but what if it’s as simple finding someone in whose eyes you can see the best possible version of yourself? Seems like an endless well of strength to draw from, to see on the regular how amazing you are in the eyes of another. Are we not at our absolute best when we are strong?

And so my work commute remains steeped in ‘Boo’ya Moon’. Check your reflection.

I believe it was our sophomore year of high school, it was definitely English class. There were four of us bent on misbehaving as much as possible that year, our instructor was a bit soft around the edges and the four of us together combined in such a way the word ‘inappropriate’ did us no justice. One of our merrily inappropriate four was not much longer for this world, so this memory is one I think of often and try not to lose as I continue to make more.

The story starts with Deep Purple, Knocking At Your Back Door. We decided it would be fun to ask our teacher what ‘cunnilingus’ meant, just to see if she’d answer. Yes, we knew the lyrics were really ‘cunning linguist’, but we all sang it the way we sang it, be honest. She stumbled over the question for a minute, gave us an awkward, vanilla explanation and asked why we wanted to know. We heard it in a rock and roll song, of course! So began a half hour tirade about how rock and roll song lyrics are garbage and have no artistic value, etc. There exists no less close minded assertion in life than the gross generalization of something. I wanted to make a point, but realized Deep Purple was not the best example for a counter argument, although they should get credit for their creative play on words described above. As it often does, opportunity knocked. The class’s next assignment was a creative poem. I opened that door.

Enter my buddy Jethro and the Mouse Police. Before you cry plagiarism, I did write an original creative poem which I submitted along with the lyrics to Mouse Police. I handed in two assignments and asked her to grade both. She did not know in advance one poem was not my original nor did she recognize the prose of the great Jethro Tull for what it was. She believed both papers were my original work when she graded them.

My original poem received an A-, a very respectable grade. Jethro received an A+++ and verbal praise during which I believe the word amazing was tossed about. She was curious why I had bothered with the pesky A- version of my assignment since Mouse Police was so on point. Spoiler Alert. I explained to her the poem she loved so much was, in fact, the lyrics to rock and roll song. Descriptive, beautiful, well considered prose which painted a picture in my mind and forever changed how I’ve come to view cats, Mouse Police remains to me the epitome of the creative poem. In my opinion, Heavy Horses is one of the most beautifully written albums I’ve had the pleasure to hear. Yes, I am biased because it’s all about nature and animals, but it’s still some incredible, descriptive writing.

Our teacher had to acquiesce and she went so far as to retract her rant from the day before and accept the existence of artistic value in rock and roll music. I received an A- on my assignment and a warning never to copy from others in the future, full disclosure or not, and a big smile for a point well made.

Aqualung is still one creepy notch below clowns, evil or otherwise. But as I skate away on the thin of ice of a new day riding a heavy horse across acres wild, I will work hard not to be thick as a brick. Sometimes, the sweetest part of the day springs upward from the imagery someone else plants in your mind. Today, I’m thankful for the things which take me away when I can’t afford to go anywhere and don’t have enough vodka in the house to drink myself someplace new.

Side note: We eventually disrupted this class to the extent she felt she must banish us to the hallway for the remainder of the semester. There are more stories here, another day, perhaps?

Everything starts with chemistry, it drives our efforts. What else do you want from another person? What else do they want from you? So few people I meet really know what they want. Nor do they pay attention to those they engage. The hurdle which is clear communication often finds itself too high for most people to jump.

We engage others in relationships to fill an empty space. The list of what I thought I wanted used to be very long. I wanted so much. I felt my empty space was a chasm. After seven years of being single, I’ve realized the chasm I need to fill is merely a small hole. It doesn’t matter what I want, what matters is what I need. When I have what I need, the list of what I want wanes like a tired moon. The pomp and circumstance most people expect from a relationship is unnecessary and often wholly unrewarding when achieved. After all, lavish displays of appreciation and love are almost always for those watching, not those involved.

The idealist nature with which I would approach potential partnerships in the past often left me disappointed, disgusted or both, I wanted the big show and I wanted the world to know I had it. I had expectations higher than a crack whore. I’ve touched on the ‘fairy tale’ concept in blogs past. There are no fairy tales outside of the lifetime channel. Go watch ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ but imagine no one ends up together in the end. That’s all too often real life. The reason, it’s just too easy to want too much from a person. It’s even easier to find someone who doesn’t ‘fit into your box’ (pun intended, of course) and try to make them fit. I want this and you love me, so you have to want it to. But what do you need? Is it reasonable? If so, it’s what you should look for. There is someone out there looking for the same thing.

Trimming your list to just your needs is no guarantee you will fill your hole (yes, intentional again), but finding the few, most important qualities in another you NEED is much more attainable than checking off a page full of attributes which at the end of the day contribute nothing to your happiness.

We have a saying in the world of horses, ‘you can’t ride pretty’ or ‘you can’t ride a color’. It’s a basic concept of finding what you need vs. what you might want. Seek only what you need and you end up with the right horse, no matter the color.

Don’t be afraid to ‘inquire within’ when you consider a potential partner and pay just as much attention to behavior as words. Unfortunately, truth in loving is not a generally accepted policy.

I think my list is pretty simple.
Love
Companionship
Kindness
Honesty
Respect

LCKHR. Boom. Happy accident.

2013 – Not my best, nor my worst year.  This year has tested my patience and abilities at a time I was certain both were slipping.  I’ve learned more this year about others and myself than all my years preceding this one.  This year I had to accept failure (more than once), find more faith in myself than I have ever needed, and I’ve had to rely on others for more than just the commonplace friendship needs we all experience now and then. 

Here’s what I know. 

I know nothing will clear your head quicker than a fast horse and an open field with no holes. 

I know at the end of every day I am simply trying my best like most everyone else. 

I know who will still be there when I need them, and…

I know who will walk away. 

I know who is more interested by my failure than my success.

I know exactly what I bring to the table, baggage included.

I know my faith in my ability is valid.  I’m amazing in so many ways.

I know bad shit happens to everyone. 

Even the things you think you have covered can go south faster than migrating birds.  Don’t judge others too harshly, we all make bad decisions.  It’s not relevant how you got where you are; what matters is how you choose to move forward. 

I know people like to talk about other people and it never leads to anything positive. 
I know our world is changing and I don’t like where it’s headed.

I know I need to quit smoking.

I know there is more change ahead for me; change that I won’t expect and I won’t be able to anticipate. 

I know I’ll work it out. 

I’d love to have a list of cool improvements I plan to make, resolutions for the New Year ahead.  I’d love to say I’m getting in an exercise program, eating better, ditching the cigs, etc.  I’m going to aim a little lower this year. 

I’m going try hard to stay as amazing as I already am. 

I’m going to try to be a little better every day. 

I will continue to find humor anywhere it may be hiding. 

When I fail at any of these, I will wake up the next day ready to try harder. 

I hope 2014 is filled with all the magic and good times you deserve. 

I hope you get all you need and enough of what you want.

I hope you smile more than you cry.

I hope you are wise enough to keep what you love close by, forever can be a long time or no time at all. 

Happy New Year!

My round bales are stacked on their sides, two high;  the top bales rest in the grooves between the bottoms. I could only get to a bottom bale. I decided to check the feeder to be sure it wasn’t frozen in the ground before getting started, since getting a bale out would be tricky. 

Guess what?

The feeder was frozen in the ground. Only one side was stuck, so I pushed and pulled for a bit and broke it loose. Now I have to put a bale out.

The tractor won’t start and I can’t find the trickle charger. All the long extension cords are heating water troughs. I’m not ducking the jump start.

I take the truck down, completely forgetting how difficult the battery is to reach with my short cables. And back I go to get the car.

Getting to the tractor battery is like playing Adult Operation, so glad I don’t go right for the cocktails when I get home.

Got it started and I notice the front right tire is almost flat, so I get the compressor and inflate that. I checked the other front tire. Rear tires looked good.

Of course…

As soon as I lift a bottom bale and pull it out, the rear tire goes flat. I’m so glad I left the compressor out. It may sit there through the Spring.

The horses have hay and I don’t have to drag square bales out there the rest of the week when the snow starts to melt, but it required more work than usual.

It’s not a friend at all, CareFirst BCBS taking a survey. *wa wa wa*

Me: ok sure (the surprise cheesesteak had me in a really good mood, it really is the little things)

Dude: Do you currently have health insurance through Carefirst?

Me: Not any longer, I had an individual policy with Carefirst for a couple months in the summer and I am now insured through my employer.

Dude: Have you ever had a policy with Carefirst?

Me: Um, yes. *he’s slow on the upswing*

Dude: How long ago would you say that was?

Me: Round about June or July, I flushed the exact date.

Dude: So five months ago would you say?

Me: I do NO math after 8pm. *snickers*

Dude: Um, ok. Was your previous policy(with Carefirst) obtained via which one of the following:
Your previous employer
Your spouses previous employer
Your cobra plan
Your spouses cobra plan
Purchased through a union
Purchased through government website
An individual policy
Medicare

Me: Dude, I just told you it was an individual policy.

Dude: I know, I still have to ask.

Me: That sucks.

Dude: *uncomfortable laughter* Are you currently insured?

Me: Really?

Dude: I have to ask.

Me: Yes. *sigh*

Dude: How did you enroll for the policy you currently have? And let me read all the options before you answer please.
Your previous employer
Your spouses previous employer
Your cobra plan
Your spouses cobra plan
Purchased through a union
Purchased through government website
An individual policy
Medicare

Me: Is this a radio station? Am I on 98Rock? Through my employer ~spoken in announcer voice.

Dude: I have to ask and read you all the options. How did you apply for your new policy?
Government website
Directly from an insurance company
Through a third party website
Through a union
Through an insurance advisor.
Through your current employer

Me: Really??? Do I have to say it? *laughs**click*

AND HE CALLS ME RIGHT BACK. 

I fully intended to stick it out, but I felt the next 30 minutes of my precious free time was better spent blogging about it.  I lost ten minutes of my life, it’s worth a rant. 

Living on a farm, it’s not unusual to find wounded wildlife from time to time. I sometimes carry a gun on the property, but never when it turns out I might need it. I happened to be out unarmed a week before opening day of shotgun season emptying the spreader one evening. That’s when I found Ricky Ricardo. No idea why I called him that, it just popped into my head. Ricky was a little buck and he had obviously gotten hung in the fencing and broken his foreleg up high.

I ran back to the house, full on adrenaline rush, and came back out with my shotgun. I’ve killed a deer with one shot from considerable distances reasonable for my weapon. But there I was that night, creepin through my pasture like Elmer freakin Fudd at dusk lined up on frightened deer that could hardly move but drag himself a few inches. In retrospect, I went too close to him and should have come in from behind. Hindsight. That’s a whole different blog.

I’m going to be honest now, not because I am proud of what followed, but because it’s a story and stories should be told. I didn’t want to miss and I wanted him to die fast. I shot Ricky a total four times. Yes, I reloaded. Laugh, it is ridiculous. My first shot was shaky, he moved, and I hit him in his already broken shoulder. The last three were perfect head shots. Ricky just didn’t die straight off like I wanted him too and I couldn’t stop shooting at him until he did. He twitched, for a while. It would have been less disturbing to go beat him to death with the butt of my gun. The neighbors didn’t speak to me for about two weeks, because all this went down right next to their backyard.

Now I am traumatized and alone with Ricky Ricardo looking like he lost a gun fight with the Russian mob. My dad and a friend of mine have all the good cutting up deer knives and it’s a week before opening day and they were both traveling. I called my friend’s wife and she called a friend who owns a butcher shop. Cue crime scene clean up.

I don’t know why, but my friend and I put Ricky Ricardo in the spreader rather than the bucket of the tractor. The whole affair was a comedy of errors. We struggled to get him in the truck with a homemade landowner tag on his tiny rack and off we go. This should be the end of the story, but remember, there are a bunch of seasoned hunters waiting for us at the butcher shop.

The owner gutted Ricky for me in the shop, something he won’t do for just anyone. The overkill was obvious and he could barely see what he was doing through the tears of laughter. Ricky Ricardo was the only named deer to date to grace the freezer at the shop and he will never be forgotten. All I have to do is walk in and say babalooooo, because I’ll never be forgotten either.

I’m thankful for so much, I don’t know where to start. I could list more than 30 things I’m sure, but the donks are a honkin.
I am blessed with an amazing family and amazing friends. I appreciate everything we share and every difference each of you brings into my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. You know who you are.
I am especially thankful this year to have found a solid, lifelong position in the workforce with room to grow and a challenging but enjoyable work environment. What could have been a devastating year turned out to be pretty wonderful, I’m thankful for the chance.
I’m thankful for my Ipod, because fuck Alice’s Restaurant.
I’m thankful for the farm; it gives me purpose and keeps me out of so much trouble.
I’m thankful for the furry, chicken murdering, yard art’s shaped like ass. I laugh at them daily.
I’m thankful for my horses, especially Karma, there are days I don’t feel like my heart even beats unless I am sitting on your back.
I’m thankful for the shortness; he proved to me I can train a dog to be both unbelievable loveable and super annoying. No more puppy tug of war.
I’m thankful for the cats and their constant reminders I am insignificant in this world short of my ability to open a can. They will evolve to possess thumbs of their own one day.
I’m thankful for all the people and animals passed; you all gave me just as much as I ever gave you.

It’s so easy to be thankful for the good things. I’m thankful for all the bad things too. The farm troubles, horse accidents, random dead chickens, brain dead wild turkeys stuck in the field, cripple deer, broken spreader, flat tires, busted hydrants, trees down, broken fence, hurricanes, tornadoes, bad dates, good dates that don’t go anywhere, failed relationships, all of the challenges I’ve faced this year and every year just made me stronger and better. I still have a long way to go, but perhaps one day I’ll be as amazing as I like to think I am.  Thanks for always challenging me to grow. 

I’m most thankful I’m still here with the opportunity to be a little better every day.