Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Bright idea

Sometimes an idea should remain just an idea. To bring it to reality would ruin it. And sometimes our desire to act on the idea is amplified by our inability to actually do it. For example: Maybe I'm sitting on the couch and it's 10:30 at night. All I want in the world is a fudgescicle. Not the no-name kind made with frozen brown water, the real deal. In order for me to actually have a fudgescicle I'd have to drive 20 kms* to get it, which isn't going to happen at 10:30 at night, but that only makes me want it all the more, until I'm actually contemplating driving 20 km for a stupid fudgescicle.  If I actually made my idea a reality I'd feel stupid for driving 20 kms and by the time I got the fudgescicle and ate it, it'd be close to midnight and I'd feel gross.

Bud the horse has been living in the barn with the cows all winter. It's an open area with an indoor and outdoor space. Plenty of room, but not enough to run.  Lately he's been acting like a brat. Wanting stimulation, wanting to run, wanting to do something.  I can't blame him, with the snow just about gone and the fields bare, spring fever has hit us all.  So I've been taking Bud outside in the evening light to play games, be stimulated and to stretch his legs and run.  It's really his idea. He's been leaning his head over the fence and staring out into the fields for days. 

Outside on the lunge line poor Bud is so out of shape he can't run a lap without panting for air.  At one point he stopped and looked at me with pleading eyes as if asking What was I thinking? I don't feel so good.

I just laughed. After all, it was his idea.

*It is actually a 20 km return trip to our nearest convenience store. I know, it's not very convenient.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011


He's 14. When you are a 14 year old manboy you don't give hugs anymore apparently.

Reiley and his brother spent March break at my parent's house. The week was spent skeet shooting with Pappy and working on the tractor for Mimi. Spent not just doing big kid stuff, but man stuff. He always comes home walking taller.

Usually when he goes to bed he reaches over the back of the couch and gives our shoulders a pat. That's our good night hug - a pat.

The other night though, his first night home from vacation, when he was ready to doll out his goodnight pats, I was standing in the kitchen. I grabbed the chance and gave him a real hug. At first I got the one arm pat on the back. But then he paused and gave me a real hug back. Good hugs are like recharging batteries. I guess he realized you never outgrow a good hug.