and that silly so-and-so keeps trying to run us 0ver!
We can’t figure out why the days pass by so fast - zoom zoom zoom, swirls of dust and heigh ho Silver!
We’re reminded of the outgoing message on friend’s mobile a few years ago – a quickly muttered ‘Where’s the phone? Where’s the phone? Where’s the phone?’ followed by the beep.
That’s how we viewed the gone away of the last two months: Where is May? Where is June? Really – where the heck did they go? If we didn’t have deadlines to check against the calendar’s realities, we might really freak: we can’t find them anywhere but we know they existed.
It’s almost the middle of July. We’ve been living like a gypsy, having moved out of the rooms into which we moved pdq right before Rolex 2009. This means we had no time whatsoever to unpack.
It’s a trait of horse people: how do we manage to accumulate so much stuff? We bagged about 700 pounds for the flat paper recycle bin – thank heavens for the Marshall center and the kind people who helped us hoist those heavy hefty bags in the course of the week during which we resembled the Tasmanian devil of Moving.
The mantra – when in doubt, throw it out – served us well.
In retrospect, we needed at least three weeks for the concentrated sort and toss that preceded our precipitous last minute efforts to vacate the premises by the first of June (deadlines, you know). But Rolex 2010 and the Kentucky Cup test events for the Alltech World Games flattened our usual fizzy energy. We didn’t bounce back – we crawled. Yet, once we got our blood up for the task, we worked as if pursued by the hounds of hell. It didn’t help to be sidetracked work-wise by the Virginia Hound Show over Memorial Day weekend, but we completed the move by June 2. Nothing short of miraculous, really, but we did it.
Amazing the stuff we found – our Tipperary back protector from eventing (fits better now than it did 15 years ago), our dear Roger’s Woof boots (must try them on Lord Peter), CHOP official posters of our brother when he was three and the darling of Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, our mother’s fox stole, brand new pair of Ariats paddock boots (but dating back to when they made them Wide which meant we wore a half size smaller!), a pair of Steve Madden black pumps (brand new in box), brass elephant bookends – better than a treasure hunt – but still no pasta maker – it’s got to be in with the stored kitchen stuff somewhere…
Then, a yard sale – furniture (well-loved but not practical) – if it didn’t sell, we gave it away. Ditto, books, boots, clothes, etc. We love the volunteers at Middleburg Humane Foundation’s Thrift Store. We made just enough to replace our desks with a lovely old Hamilton Drafting Table – the owners are a story on their own, but another time.
We didn’t sell the Passier all-purpose we bought second-hand in the late 70s at the Stable Door in Warrenton. It’s either getting tossed or being used decoratively as not even Thoroughbreds have the waspy waists and high withers to be comfortable in that cut back model with its medium tree. Our Connemara is XX-Wide even though he lost his baby fat, but he’s a long way from wearing our dear old Roger’s hunting saddle. Truth to tell, Rog remained mutton-withered until several years of smart flat work re-contoured his body. But Lord Peter’s a chunky monkey and heaven knows if he’ll ever streamline to a normal Wide tree…
But we digress again…
We’re trying to apologize for not posting a new blog in yonks. We kept wanting to, because blogging puts the fun back into writing, but after the move (which was exhausting, mentally and physically), then we had lots of deadlines – Upperville, a road trip to the Bryn Mawr Hound Show in PA – stayed with siblings who live around the corner from Radnor Hunt, but no time to see anyone else up there – then back here and more deadlines, and weird screwy stuff happening as if mercury hadn’t just got into retrograde, but was on catnip or wacky weed or something.
Factor in our level of burned-out exhaustion – well, you try sleeping in someone’s guest room in a strange bed in a strange house that’s inhabited by a Civil War ghost. Benign chap, but one night in particular we had the eerie feeling he wasn’t being quite the Southern gentleman and peeked when he should have turned his gray-jacketed back… We finally drifted off to sleep and some pretty weird dreams – save the village stuff.
Nor have we had even a moment to sit out in the sun and try to get our legs to match our face and arms. It’s just run and gun, all day, every day.
We wrote the check for the first month’s rent for our wonderful new aerie – we can call it that, because it’s on the second level of this nifty barn on a knoll with lots of blue sky 360-degrees. It’s got its own deck, to boot, so we want to do some container gardening – little clustered roses like the ones that grew along the tennis court of the mausoleum (aka our childhood home) and maybe clematis trained up a trellis, and some small pots of herbs. Stuff easy to bring in or hardy enough to leave out for the winter. We’re open to suggestions…
Our own home sweet home – sheer bliss… a place for books and framed prints and photos that haven’t been out of storage in about nine years – we are so looking forward to figuring out what goes where. And kitchen stuff – head’s up! can feel a triple layer brownie-baking fit coming on, and there’s this fudge sour cream icing that’s good enough to eat with a spoon for white or yellow or pound cake… oh! homemade pizza dough and buttermilk biscuits with oat or sprouted spelt berry flour. We’re still trying to perfect scones with our two favorite flours, but jaw-breakin’ crunchy chocolate chip cookies – great for dipping in milk, tea, coffee, whatever – garner rave reviews.
Maybe we’ll have time and a few spare dollars to hit some sales – yard or retail – at the end of the summer to find a few deck chairs we can live with. Honestly, whoever invented the lounge that won’t go flat all the way has probably never bothered to brown both sides. And we’d love an old-fashioned hibachi – we’ll protect the deck with bricks or paving stones, of course.
But the whole point of this odd posting is to say – we didn’t disappear, we just fell through the cracks, pursued by deadline demons. Just stay tuned and don’t give up. We’ve been sitting on a blog about the mechanics of rotational falls. It’s food for thought about how and why these somersaulting crashes occur – complete with photos to illustrate. But the pix must be uploaded via high speed and we’re still critter-sitting – thank heavens, because our frayed shoestring needs all the help it can get – ergo, we’re stuck with dialup but that too shall change. Then there’s another post about a former eventer turned steeplechase trainer. Plus, we want to hark back with observations and photos about Virginia Gold Cup, the Virginia Hound Show and Bryn Mawr Hound shows, communicating with animals, and whatever else races through our horse-oriented brain.
We’re optimistic that we’ll find time in July (what’s left of it) to revive our pony’s CEU program (Continuing Education Under-saddle). Lord Peter has been very good-natured about the demands of my schedule, but it’s time to indulge in our shared love of trail riding. And then there’s the carrot of starting his education over fences, but only when he’s more made on the flat. We haven’t cantered yet under saddle, but timing is key. It’s all about what’s best for Lord Peter’s greatest good.
Then, there’s always the wild notion we get when the stress of contiguous deadlines reaches critical mass: wouldn’t it be great to get a job stocking shelves at Trader Joe’s or Costco and actually have time to get a life!!! But that’s about as likely to happen as pigs flying to the moon, because we are committed to our mantra: write, ride, not necessarily in that order.
Remember that multitasking can be a dangerous activity while you’re behind the wheel or in the saddle. Please hang up and give your full attention to driving or riding – the life you save may be your own.