Friday Evening

Titus, my parents' adopted bird dog.
He wants all the hugs.

A very curious Joey Joey while we walked the
lower pasture.

My weekend kicked off pretty great. (See how it ended up.)

I left you guys on Friday afternoon, counting the hours until I got to go out and see my best boy. (On a normal day, I get off around 5ish.)
My boss came into my office a little before 4:30 and asked me what I was doing.
"Um... work?" I replied. (I quickly replaced homemade showsheen recipes with my email inbox in case he looked around the desk.)
"No, turn off your computer and get going. Any paper work or emails that come in the next 30 minutes can wait until Monday."

I can't tell you how quickly I jumped up out of there. When I went out to my car, the sky was super duper overcast and dark with the threat of a heavy thunderstorm; so I raced the 10 minutes to my parents' farm to see my boy. I had run an errand for the office manager earlier that day and it had been the perfect opportunity to stop and buy some sponges and spray bottles for the tackroom. (Joey got a shower last time, but I had done nothing to his sweaty, patchy face. I was planning on using the sponges to clean him up a little bit.)

Mom's garden that never was to be this year.

But, alas, upon arriving at the barn, I was just in time for the first raindrops. I went into the house to change into my barn clothes and my mom chased me out the door laughing about how I was about to get soaked and shouldn't be out. She followed me down to the barn where I slipped some treats over the fence before she recruited me to walk the lower pasture with her before the serious rain started. We talked over all the fencing that was in disrepair from the last couple of years and also the tornadoes that had ripped through my parents' yard this last spring. (It it honestly by the grace of God that I even have my little blind pony anymore after that.) Joey's been locked out of the lower pasture so that we could let it grow back; but then the fencing pretty much all fell to disrepair in the weather since it's all downhill, and it needs to be picked back up before he can be let out to graze down there. The tornadoes ripped up the entire fence around my parents' pool, and we've already seen what the outcome of combining that with a blind horse was...

Some feline friends: Tiger, the king of our barn.

Feline friends: This is Aubbie, one of our younger toms.
(See the chicken wire? Yeahhh he's not supposed to be in
the tackroom....)

This is Maggie, my parents' sweet black lab.
Is there any other kind?

Some views of the inside of the barn. This really needs to be the next project: What was supposed to be a five-stall barn, including a wash stall, has turned into a catch-all -- isn't that always the way?

Walking in from the front massive sliding door.
The tack room (where Aubbie was laying on the bookshelf) is directly to your left.

The panels make up one stall that is adjacent to the other stall that you see. Both are open to the paddock.
(They both used to have double-dutch doors to them; but they rotted away last summer.)

"But WHEN can I eat all the grass in the lower pasture, Mom??"

Needless to say, Joey didn't get much attention from me on Friday after work (*sad face*); but my sister had gone out to groom him already earlier that day, so he was sleek and beautiful. \o/ And I can tell he's much happier and peppier since I started coming out to give him some TLC. I think my presence and reason for being over there has sparked something in my family, as well, as they seem to spend more time doting on him lately.













I went inside to try out making some homemade showsheen from a recipe I found online while it rained a little outside. Then I went home to make THE PERFECT chocolate chip cookies. O.O (very tedious recipe that requires patience -- which I don't have when in the kitchen -- but SOOOO worth it!!)




And I knew I was going to have to make amends with Lexi for visiting her long-lost family without her; so of course when I bought the sponges and spray bottles earlier, a pack of rawhide bones had to go in the basket as well.

The Refrigerator Saga

Fridge #1 in our teeny one-butt kitchen

Our refrigerator has become the bane of our existence. (Well, it switches between that and the fact that we have no central air conditioning. Because let me reiterate here, people: it's freaking hot and humid in the South.) Let me elaborate a bit on the refrigerator deal: It freezes over and must be thawed [now] about every two weeks. [It was once a month or so; but as happens with real-life things, it steadily gets worse.] Hubby, who has been a trooper with this whole fridge thing (many examples to follow) has slowly started dreading grocery day... which in turn keeps getting steadily and steadily pushed further into the future simply because before we can put food in the refrigerator with the purpose of keeping it somewhat chilled, he must haul said refrigerator across the house to our teeny front porch to be thawed out in the sunshine for about a day. He's even reverted to stealing my hairdryer to try to save some steps and lifting. I can't say I blame him. I'm not exactly much help with Baby Bump in the way and our house being a one-butt house in general (you've heard of a one-butt kitchen, right?).

Fridge #2 from Hubby's Mom in our teeny one-butt kitchen (yes, that's the
hairdryer cord...)

Superman ended up working so many overtime hours last week that he was simply on-call on Saturday -- which meant I got to have him home with me on one of my days off, yay! \o/ ^.^ Hearing a NEW strange noise coming from our refrigerator (Hubby deduced it was the fan getting iced over and cutting into the ice, which hadn't been a problem until now), we decided to call it quits on Fridge #1 (yes, we need to number them. yes, oh deer.) and called his mom and stepdad to take them up on their offer of a refrigerator they had sitting in their "shop" that they didn't need. They had also offered us a like-new bar-height dining table, so we finally decided to take the old 5-speed truck down the road to pick up their generous offerings. Nine miles later, we had a refrigerator and six chairs strapped into the bed (we had to make another trip for the table itself and the leaf it came with). Upon arriving home, Hubby moved new fridge in and old fridge out, having to take both all the way around the house single-handedly. And the South is freaking hot and humid, y'all. We plugged in Fridge #2 and decided to just toss the teeny amount of milk that had warmed and the cheese that we had left that had melted onto the counter, and we made plans to go out to eat with Hubby's dad and grandmother for lunch the following afternoon and then make our grocery run. Certainly that would be enough time for Fridge #2 to get accustomed to its new home indoors; and we could just go back to ramen until then (we didn't even have bread for sandwiches) (have I mentioned yet that it's 20+ minutes to the nearest Dollar General?). 
We take the fourwheeler out for some gentle mud-riding (I know -- LAME. But Hubby refused to go "faster faster!" because of the obvious ruts and the obvious Baby Bump riding on the back) and settle in for a rainy night of board games and movies (and ramen).

Original old farm table hubby pulled from a barn across
the street.

Like-new bar-height dinging table from Hubby's mom and
stepdad. We are in love. (Yes, we know it's off-center.)
(Yes, I'm married to someone very OCD.)

Close up of top of old original farm table. The "white" chairs
are also covered in black grease. Did I mention Hubby is a
diesel mechanic?

Close up of top of like-new bar-height dining table from
Hubby's mom and stepdad. Did I mention we are in  love

We wake up Sunday morning, ready for lunch and (FINALLY) a grocery run. But guess what? Fridge #2 isn't cold -- not even slightly chilled. My forever patient Hubby unplugged it to try and let it thaw out -- we thought maybe it had been unplugged just long enough the day before to let some ice slide down in the back and freeze back over the [working parts of a fridge] (don't judge me -- my husband is the mechanic/handyman in this relationship). (Yes, he stole my hairdryer again to hopefully thaw it out while I was in the shower.) But after leaving it to sit and leak all over the kitchen for a few hours (I didn't have any cares to give at this point) there wasn't even a damp puddle on the floor. In one last attempt, Hubby plugged it BACK in to see if it would try. Even just a little bit. (It didn't.) 

We really can't afford a brand new refrigerator; so we held hands on the way to lunch and decided to look at compact and teeny refrigerators for a temporary solution until we could find something else.

At lunch we caught up with Mamaw and Daddy and we shared with them the most recent struggle that was our house. (Hubby's daddy had already given us a tiny deep-freezer not a month or so earlier, so that our meat that we buy in bulk would be ok each time the fridge decided to suffer). They took it upon themselves to be benefactors once again and took us to Lowe's to get us a big-kid-adult refrigerator. No more tap water and no more growing ice in our three pitiful ice trays! \o/

Brand new Fridge #3 in our teeny one-butt kitchen.

After three+ hours at Lowe's while Hubby grappled with the generous offer (and I looked at brand new washing machines and magical things called dishwashers), much struggling to rearrange all the stuff in Daddy's van, we loaded up Fridge #3 and hauled back to our little country house.




We took the front door off the hinges to get Fridge #3 into the house. We rolled up carpets and moved what little furniture we have to make room to get Fridge #3 to the kitchen. We hauled Fridge #2 (which still hadn't cooled in the slightest in all that time we were in town) back around the house to sit in the carport with Fridge #1. And we realized that the parts we got to hook up the water line to Fridge #3 were too big. And Lowe's was closing in 20 minutes and was a 30 minutes drive from our little country house.

Of course by "we" in all those sentences and hard work, I mean Superman and Superman Senior. They wouldn't even let me hold tools while they worked. The most I did was get them (soppy) ice water.

We bade adieu to Superman Senior as it was already nearly 7:30, and Hubby and  I drove all the way back to town to Walmart for the right-fitting piece as well as a few groceries to last us at least a week.
Needless to say, before going to work this morning, I had to [stand looking into our brand new big-kid-adult refrigerator with the doors open and then] put back together some of the chaos that had become our little country house. (There was sticky plastic and styrofoam EVERYWHERE. And carpets were still rolled up and furniture was still out of place.) Oh and at least start some of that laundry that I said I was gonna do this weekend that I didn't get around to.

And so was my weekend. And it turns out this is the first Monday at the office that nobody's asked how it went.

Fridges #1 and #2 banished forever (hopefully not forever in the carport)

PS: I really did steal this off of the display at Lowe's. For a moment in the parking lot, I thought an employee was going to take it away and I was determined to waltz right back in there and get another one of of one of the other refrigerators.

Contentment

It's been a pretty slow week here at the office -- at least for me. But, you know, it hasn't really drug by like I'm used to. Perhaps it's due to being back in the blogosphere.

For the first time in a while I feel more than a smidgen of contentment. I found a blog today during my daily "search of blogs to follow" and it is officially my new favorite. She's late-20's and lives in New Jersey. She's a vet-tech/horse trainer and she basically lives on her own miniature version of the Heartland ranch. Sure it's my dream life (or so I think); and sure it makes me think I could live with the snow; but reading this blog and seeing all the gorgeous photographs (Dom dabbles in photography and captures some great shots. Her fiance loves horses and animals. And they hike and rescue/foster animals. I mean come on.) -- It all actually gives me a new determination to be content with my current situation. Isn't that strange? Looking at and reading her blog, I felt a strange peace wash over me. Maybe it's the blogging I've been doing or even the little amount of time I've spent with Joey lately (going out again today as soon as the clock hits 5). Regardless, this "journey toward my happiness" is really kicking off to an encouraging start, if rather sluggishly.
We might be struggling a little financially, and be scarily on the brink of parenthood -- an adventure we really weren't expecting just yet (if ever, honestly). I might commute 45 minutes one way to work 5 days a week in a car that is fun to drive but sucks gas like Joey sucks grain -- and it may technically be our only car. We may be living in a house with buckling floors and no central heating or air and no phone service for miles.

But, honestly, it could be so much worse.

Jake and I could be totally incompatible and not the best friends that we are. We could be crammed into our parents' house. One (or both) of us could be jobless. Our *only* car could be a clunker and unreliable (as it is, it's a 2013 Ford Mustang -- vroom! vroom!). We could be back to that strict ramen noodles diet we are both all-too familiar with. 

The important thing is to count our blessings and live in the Now and enjoy the time we have now, regardless and as hard as that really is sometimes. 

As much as I dislike the South with its humidity and lack of horse enthusiasts (at least where we're at), I can learn to be content until we don't have to force so hard to make something else happen. And who knows what will happen then?

Now excuse me while I count the minutes until Joey.

I can't believe we're already halfway-done with August -- that is some kind of scary. o.o
Caroline (my youngest sister, but not the youngest sibling) will be 10 on the 31st.
And my first Dr's appointment is on the 25th. (No, I haven't been yet. Yes, I'm over 25 weeks pregnant. Yes, I'm in a lot of trouble with people for that.)
Then it's a few more Dr's appointments and not fitting into my clothes and not sleeping comfortably and biding my time through September, October, and most -- if not all -- of November.
Going to work every weekday, and spending some time grooming (and hopefully lunging) Joey Joey to get him in shape to carry my out-of-shape butt after Little Bit gets here.

I went ahead and went out there yesterday after work and made yesterday the first step -- "every journey begins with a single step" is what they say. And this particularly is a journey toward my happiness and my horse's happiness -- because Joey really does mean a lot to me, in case anybody was questioning that fact.

But I think I found a better attitude to have going into it: Go over and groom Joey after work on some days, working out my arms and back muscles in the process, and just enjoy the quiet time with him -- like I used to. I haven't gotten quiet time like that with my boy in over a year. Remember when I spent an entire month not riding, and just sitting with him? I didn't even groom him until after about a week. It did a lot for our relationship before we started riding again. Which, especially with the state my body is going to be in getting back into the saddle, is what we should be striving for.
Don't count your time with him as hours you can't ride as if you're missing out on something; rather, look at it as what it is: time well-spent making your horse, your best boy, happy, healthy, and gorgeous again. See what you can learn about grooming along the way, too!

Because it really should be about the partnership, it should be about Joey and I as two persons; not just about time in the saddle. So yesterday we just groomed a little -- he was sweating kind of a lot (because it's freaking hot and humid in the South, y'all). I combed [and had to cut some of] the dreads out of his mane and tail; and then we went to the hose up by the house and washed away all of the caked up grime and sweat. He hasn't been groomed in over 6 months. Isn't that sad? He usually doesn't like the hose much (I've handled worse though); and he was a little antsy (mostly because I wouldn't let him graze the front yard instead); but he stood (with help from my sister), and he definitely looked cleaner when we were done (these parentheses are pointless here).

After we hosed down all the sweat and grime.

But yeah, I'm just basically going to start back at the beginning as that horse-crazy kid who knows nice people that will let her come over after school to groom their beautiful black gelding, with the distant hope that someday they may let me ride regularly -- except I am the nice people, and the pony is mine to call the shots on. lol But maybe I can strive toward contentment while looking at it that way.

PS: Haha It was super cute, but apparently he remembered the teeny bit I actually succeeded at teaching him about bowing like three years ago -- which was basically just curling his left leg up and tucking his chin on the command "left, left, left." I didn't even cue him, and it took him three goes at it for me to notice, but while I was combing out his mane yesterday evening, he kept curling that leg and tucking that chin, and then looking at me expectantly for cookies and praise. He's such a ham, but I think he's missed our time together. ^.^

I know, I know -- I just created a new blog not that long ago. Guess what happened? I switched offices at work and lost all my passwords, etc. How lame is that? SO HERE WE GO AGAIN.
(I don't have internet at home, so that is why this is a perfectly acceptable excuse.)

Anyway, to kick it off, here is a letter to my unborn daughter that I wrote yesterday that I thought would make a great first post on here to tell you guys just a little bit about me:

Dear Unborn Daughter I,
[that's supposed to be read as "unborn daughter the first". I thought it sounded funny and explained things a little better down the road, should I possess more munchkins.]

First off: what the mess are you doing down there?? It felt like fiery hell in a big ball in the middle of my stomach, and now you're stretching out excessively.Why.

Secondly: If you ever have a [healthy and not-self-harming] addiction someday -- a passion, a hobby -- that consumes all you are inside, whether you get to partake and act on that passion or not, I just want you to know that I, your mother, completely understand what that is and what you're going through. You should know (in case you haven't already figured it out yet) that your mother isn't just horse-crazy -- she is certifiably horse-insane. (No, your father did not really know to what extent before he signed the line and agreed "until death do us part." Mwahahaha.)
(Yes, your grandparents are still hoping it's "just a phase." Psh.)
Examples of conduct: Your dad comes home from work to find all of Fimbrook (my miniature model horse collection) lined up on any and all flat surfaces in the house.
There are two different bookshelves devoted to certain kinds of horse books (and I ran out of room on both shelves on Day One of moving in).
Any sketch book I have I am still adding (only) ponies.
I'm plotting how on earth I can be with horses in any way before (and after) you get here -- but the Pregnant Police (aka, your dad, uncles, and grandparents) are doing all in their power to prevent me.
And THANK. GOD. the 2016 Rio Olympics are this year so I have plenty of updating and research on all things equestrian to keep me busy while you're growing. Although I should note here it is putting some pretty unattainable headlines and stars in my eyes:

Young equestrian takes blind first horse to Tokyo!

Even Laura Graves and Diddy had a better shot than I do.

I really hope you do (and your dad does, too, secretly -- don't let him fool you; plus we'd rather have you addicted to something so expensive as the sport of ponies so that you have no money for crack), but if you don't happen to share my major passion for all things equine, I promise to try not to be hurt or take it personally. 

(Yeah right, I take EVERYTHING personally.)

And I promise I will be understanding of your passions as well as supportive as I can be.

...Don't make me regret that statement.

Love, Mummy

PS: This really goes for all my kids.

PSS: No, we're not British. But I liked the idea of signing it "love mummy." I called my mom "mummy" for the longest time having spent my toddler years in England while my dad flew airplanes for the US Navy over there. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

PSSS: Ok, last one -- I swear. But looky what I found! It's my blog from like three years ago! I forgot it existed until a few moments ago. (It would appear that my brother's somehow got ahold of it to play with graphics... oi.) Have fun 'sploring! ^.^ (I certainly did. haha)