...meaning I couldn't shut my thoughts down to get a good night's sleep. Strange, unrelated events and thoughts kept me awake, or woke me up, most of the night. There was nothing stressful, in fact, for the most part I was in awe of all the things, and people, that have come into my life.
I had the great idea to go to the mainland and do a bit of shopping. I had two things that were left undone from the whole Christmas thing. They both involved very specific stops at very specific stores; the first being just a couple of miles from the ferry landing. Rather than take the truck I decided to call a friend; we had promised to meet on the break between Christmas and New Year's, and this was a way to meet that goal as well. This person is someone I have known for many, many years. I was picked up at the terminal and we made our first stop. The door to the shop was locked, but I was able to get a phone number and figured any potential business could be done over the phone. As we talk I feel saddened. We share so little now. On we go to the next shop. The entire facility is bustling, but the one shop I needed was locked tight. We grab some lunch, OK, grab is a poor word as it took forever to just get someone to take our order. sigh. Then it happens. Something I swore I would never do. A discussion of politics begins to dribble from my lips. What am I doing? What am I even thinking? We are so far apart in this area, and I knew it from our years of history. The discussion lasts less than five minutes, and was not heated at all, at least not on my end. It started innocently enough as a discussion on a toll bridge over here raising rates to pay for a new bridge in Seattle. From there it generally deteriorated to state budget and then National deficit. I made my views known in less than five minutes and it was over. We basically drew each other a sketch of who we are, and we are not even in the same ball field; heck, we are not even in the same stadium, nor same sport. I enjoy having many independent thinkers in my life. It keeps me examining who I am. It keeps me real. I don't enjoy debate, nor do I ever try to explain the deepest things of what makes me who I am. There is no analyzing. It just is. We head back for the ferry and, in keeping with the rest of the day, I arrived just as the ferry is pulling out. I take some time to go walk the beach, as the sun is just beginning to drop. I need to wrap my head around the day.
I then head up the ramp to the holding area. That is when I see it.
I have been walking past this window for months, or maybe even years. Yet at just that moment, the beauty came through. A life lesson? Perhaps.
So home I head, with my heart just a bit lighter. Then I open the door and let my dogs out. It is now dark, but we go out to run in the field and feed the horse. I can barely see the dogs, but they are chasing down balls and bringing them back as if it were the middle of the day. Their lives are pretty simple. Perhaps that is why they are so endearing to me. I adore my pupsters. That makes me think of a breeder friend who discovered that she has a dog that did not pass some tests that would make her (the dog, not the person) a good breeder. Many people go by the "don't ask, don't tell" thing. She has chosen to know, and to put out dogs that will continue to improve the breed. It meant that her dog needed to be rehomed to make room for another. I am in awe. I am no breeder. I am so grateful that she, and others like her, are there for those of us that want a healthy quality dog that will hopefully live a long life. That these breeds will continue to make us laugh for generations to come. (Thanks, dear lady.)
This morning when I drug this stiff and sore body out of bed I realized something else. I no longer look for shortcuts to every thing and every where. Not so long ago I would find myself arranging (in my head) lists of things that I needed at the other end of the house, or outside, or in the barn. It saved steps. Now I find myself making numerous trips and rather enjoying it. I cannot sit for long or I feel frantic. I need to move. I make a dozen trips out to the pasture each day...at least. Rain or shine. When the dogs lose interest, OK, dog (Kate never loses interest) in the ball and leaves it at the farthest, and opposite, end of the field, I just go scoop it up before calling the playtime over. I learned during the freezing period that wet frozen tennis balls are not real desirable to doggy mouths, and it is the best way to keep my guys in condition. I now bring the balls into the house after each romp. I throw them into the wash when I do a load; it makes finding them a lot easier. A few months ago I would just leave the balls and start the next session with a different one. If I were to come across one when I did my daily scoop session I would collect it for later use. It was not uncommon to have ten balls in various corners of the field. An interesting change of events. Do I get sore? Absolutely! Some days it is all I can do to pull the leg on. But it goes away, or quiets down a bit. Little changes in my body become big changes in the fit. It's one of those things that makes me acutely aware of where the medical system may be heading in our country. But it also makes me realize that this is life. Growing older brings on more aches and pains. With each I get a choice. I find pushing through the pain to be somewhat exhilarating, in an odd, perhaps demented, way.
Perhaps I enjoy living my life through b-b riddled glasses. The view can be quite interesting...once the brain settles down.