How to Cure Shoulder Pain

Somehow, miraculously, during the 1st day of vacation, my shoulder healed. And I am not quite sure how this happened, but I have several explanations:

1. My entire right arm enjoyed more than 18 hours straight with no computer usage (this would end up being 4 full days of rest ... which does not necessarily explain the initial healing, however).
2. Having every neck, shoulder AND butt muscle clenched whilst driving a van/bus for 10 hours alleviated the pain.
3. Carrying 2 overstuffed suitcases (one was mine, the other belonged to The Lovely) up a steep flight of stairs somehow located my (unbenownst-to-me) DISlocated shoulder.

Honestly, I believe it was No. 3. Combined with the healing effects of No. 1. Though my muscles certainly WERE clenched during the drive to Wichita, Kansas. And back.

And right now, I am too tired to write about it.

BTW: Re: CSI: NY

I suppose I expected to like this show, as I am a fan and regular viewer of CSI and CSI: Miami. And I have to admit that Melina Kanakaredes is gorgeous ... though I am a little irked with myself that I have now officially learned her name AND how to spell it (just a little more trivia to cram in my already-chaotic brain ... along with the proper spelling AND punctuation of petechial hemorrhaging, which I like the sound, if not the actuality, of).

(BTW: It is puh-TEE-kee-uhl, best I can figure. And the medical examiner did say it tonight on the season opener. I predict he will say it at least 12 more times this season alone.)

I am intrigued by the field of forensic science. Not as intrigued, of course, as The Lovely, who says that when she retires, she would like to become a crime scene investigator ... if only she could find her glasses ... and her shoes ... etc. ... but intrigued, nonetheless. I have always believe that if I ever committed a crime, I would not get away with it because I would be unable to lie about it; however, even if I could avoid spilling the whole story on my own, I am certain that the physical evidence alone would be enough to convict me.

I mean, I am a messy person; why would my crime scene be any different?

: )

Still, I like all the gadgetry and science and what-not they use on all of the CSI shows, and I have learned a few things about anatomy and physiology. I have also learned that it is a good idea NOT to be eating a late dinner during the show, as I have had to look away, quickly, on many occasions. I especially enjoyed a scene in the new show, tonight, where the investigators used a 2-dimensional object, a photograph, and perspective and geometry to pinpoint a 3-dimensional location. Very cool.

HOWEVER: I have issues with how they obtained the photograph.

First of all, a camera was discovered at the crime scene. A rather expensive-looking camera, though I did not get a look at the brand name. (Oddly enough, when Gary Sinise was processing the body of a victim at the hospital, I noticed he was using an Olympus.) The camera at the crime scene had apparently been tossed there, into a heap of garbage, or else it belonged to one of the other victims. Either way, I found it difficult to believe (yet convenient, plot-wise) that a camera would be disposed of so haphazardly.

Secondly, the CSIs almost immediately OPENED THE CAMERA, in broad daylight ... only to find that part of the film had been torn, apparently when someone attempted to pull it out of the camera. Next thing you know, though, there they were, in a darkroom, developing film which WE ALL KNOW had been exposed to light ... and would have come out in big, bold, BLACK prints. (Trust me, I have ruined puh-LEN-ty of rolls of film this way. Well, at least a couple.)

Add to that the fact that the photos were like a little travelogue of how one of the victims had spent her day, culminating in the aforementioned perspective shot, and it all seemed a bit too much for me to believe.

But then again: What do I know about forensic science?

Just had to get that rant out of my system before I hit the hay.

: )

Gone Fishing

I love today. Mainly because this is The Day Before Vacation Starts, so no matter what goes wrong (like, my computer at work locking up and forcing me to redo a portion of page 1), I have a big-ass smile on my face, anyway.

: )

Like that.

And 90 minutes past the time when Cardinals playoff tickets go on sale, Karl calls to ask me if I have had any luck getting in, which of course I have not because I have not even TRIED yet (yeah, oddly enough, I was actually WORKING all that time, go figure). So I make several attempts to get through, via telephone, and cannot, and then I venture into the online ticket sales site and end up in a Virtual Waiting Room ... where I wait ... and wait ... and wait some more ... and never get through.

I bolt home from work around 1 p.m. (stayed late today, yes, I did!) and decide to try the online site again. And again, I am sent to the online version of hell, that Virtual Waiting Room again. Except this time, Karl tells me to open about 20 browsers at once, and they will keep refreshing, and sooner or later one will open.

So I sit there, and wait. And I am still on dialup, so I am sure my browser-refreshing is even slower than ever ... yet I keep watching ... and waiting ... and waiting ... and wondering ... and watching, still.

I decide it is a little like fishing. Which I love but never do because 1. I am not a big fan of live bait, and 2. What do I do if I actually catch a fish? And even if I could bait my own hook and take the fish off the line ... what the hell do I do with it after THAT??!

But there I sit, just like watching a bobber on the lake ... waiting and wondering ... etc.

And suddenly: I get through! On 2 browsers ... and then a 3rd opens!

So I decide to try to get 4 tickets to the 3rd and 4th St. Louis home games of the NLCS. And I am all excited because I am thisclose to getting my tickets!

Or so it seems.

After typing in confirmation number after confirmation number, I keep getting some random blah-blah message about the high volume of ticket sales, and how the transaction cannot be completed, and how I need to try again. Which I do, over and over, for the better part of an hour before giving up and taking a nap.

So now I am pissed. And if the ticket brokers who tried to cut me a deal by advertising on my previous blog (which I refused) happen to stumble upon this journal: You can forget about putting your ads on this one, too ... unLESS you can get me prime seats to the NLDS, the NLCS and the World Series. All games. Four tix each would be great, but I would consider 2.

Yeah.

: )

Actually, as mad as I might seem, it is ALL good. Life is sweet.

I am on vacation.

Etc., Whatever

My right shoulder hurts. I am not quite sure why it hurts, or when it started hurting, but it does. Not bad or anything, but it seems to be getting steadily worse. I suspect it could be a tennis injury, or maybe that I have been sleeping on it wrong (wrongly?), and what the heck, it could be from computer use.

All of that is OK, though, because day after tomorrow, I am on VACATION. And to say that this will be a much-needed break would be ... well, an understatement.

: )

I believe if I can get recharged, one more time, I should be good to go until December. Which is when I am supposed to go to the Keys. Provided Hurricane Charley or Frances or Ivan (or the impending Karl or Lisa) have not completely decimated South Florida. (Say a little prayer for this, IF you are so inclined. You might even get a postcard out of the deal!)

: )

Random thoughts:

• Wonder why every time I log into Blogger and click on my link-thingie, it always says I have 42 posts. Perplexing, really.
• Is the half-moon tonight half full, or half empty? (I say FULL, of course!)
• What on EARTH did I do with my Rend Lake College T-shirt? She is going to want me to wear it, and I have NO idea where it is, at this moment!
• Although I am officially a Cubs fan, I honestly am rooting for the St. Louis Cardinals to go all the way to AND win the World Series this year. Mainly because the Cards are much more fun to watch than the Cubs, this season. And also because my closest pals are Cardinals fans, and they seem to get much more bent out of shape when the Cards lose than I do when the Cubs lose. And also because my dad was a diehard Cardinals fan, and I still feel a little bad about 1985, when they got TOTALLY screwed on a call at first base during Game 6 and ended up losing the World Series in 7 games, and I gave my dad such a hard time about it. (He would really really love watching this team, I have decided.)
• Unexpected compliments ROCK. And they make me smile.

That is all for now. My shoulder hurts. Hope my Advil liqui-gels kick in, and SOON. Otherwise, I am going for the hard stuff (Tylenol 8-hour, big whoop).

: )

Oh, the Games People Play, Now

Every night and every day now
Never saying what they mean, now
Never meaning what they say

La-da-da, la-da-da, da
La-da-da, la-da-da, da de
Talkin’ ’bout you ’n’ me
And the games people play

(From “Games People Play” by Joe South)

Games I Played Today

1. Baseball (3-for-3 batting switch-hitter [heh])
2. Football (2 football “pull-aways” on kickoffs, a la Lucy Van Pelt, 1 touchdown pass)
3. Tennis (1 between-the-legs shot, almost)
4. Bingo (2 regular bingos, 1 cover-all; I was the caller)

I like Saturdays like this.

T.G.I.F.

If I knew 2 weeks ago what I know now ... I think maybe I would have just called in sick for the next 2 weeks.

: )

Ah, life. Suffice it to say that there are honest mistakes, and there are malicious mistakes, and there are negligent mistakes. I, of course, have made a few of the in-between kind, though I try try try not to be malicious, ever; still, it happens. Or, rather, it has happened, and I (and others) have paid the price. Dearly. And there are the former, the honest mistakes, and many times, thankfully, no one gets hurt. In fact, sometimes no one even notices, and you shrug your shoulders and go on. What really stinks is when you combine honest effort with negligence and end up with a mistake ... because you know you were trying really really hard to get it right, but because you did not take that one extra step, you ended up making a mistake.

Sometimes, it is a tiny one; sometimes, it is a doozy. And, inevitably, someone gets hurt. Which also really stinks.

I am sure there are other kinds of mistakes, but I am done thinking about mistakes right now.

Right now, I have k.d. lang singing on the stereo, despite the fact that the local football team is playing (and winning) and I probably should be listening to the radio because it is a close, exciting game, and just one year ago I would have been on the sidelines, cheering on the local team and taking notes and pictures and what-not, but these days, I do not go, and I do not miss it. And I feel as if I should, but I do not.

Right now, the only writing that truly interests me is this: Me, writing about stuff that is on my mind. And the frequent e-mails to various friends Out There, and the type-type-typing of an occasional chat with people on my Buddy List (which also includes my mom, who might just be my best buddy of all), and posting in places where various friends and others post in return, supporting me or debating me or smiling over something I have written. And the vignettes that fill my mind, sometimes, all part of the Larger Story that begs to be written, sometime, someday, maybe soon, hopefully soon ... as soon as I quit filling the gaps with irrelevant words that do nothing except keep me writing ... which, I suppose, keeps me writing.

(Keeps me sane?)

(Nah.)

This time next week, I will be on vacation. THIS makes me smile ... as does disco music, I reminded myself earlier this week as I blasted Saturday Night Fever through the earphones at work.

: )

I hate when the only name on my Buddy List is faded. IDLE.

: (

One of the boys I used to write about has died.

His name is Brandon. No one is quite certain how he died. Police found his body on a road near an exit ramp, from which he had apparently fallen 80 to 100 feet. And it seems that the only reason he was not killed immediately was because he had hit some trees on the way down. He lived for 2 weeks after the incident, from what I have been told, and then he was taken off the respirator, and he died.

No one knows how he fell. Did someone push him? Did someone hit him with their car? Did he jump?

All that anyone knows for certain is that he is dead.

He was 21 years old. A few years ago, he was a starting pitcher for the high school baseball team in this town. A tall right-hander. Blond hair. Easy smile.

I have known him since he was a kid ... which is actually what he still is, to me. He played at every level of baseball, every summer, and his mom used to bring in write-ups about the games. I used to semi-dread seeing her, in fact, because she was SO thorough ... but deep down, I was quite grateful.

One thing I learned as a sports editor is that a lot of people like reading that stuff, long as you spell the names right.

: )

I have an image of this boy in my mind. It is a photograph I took, of him, after the season had ended his senior year. The team finished fourth in the state, which was better than any h.s. team here had done, and he was a big part of the record-setting season. Anyway, the coach had me come out to the park, where our team plays on a well-cared-for field (complete with a grass infield and enclosed dugouts) and take a picture of the boys in their uniforms, with all their trophies for the season.

And after I was done, Brandon was showing me how grungy his cap was. It was maroon with a white B on the front, but it was frayed and rather dirty, as if he had worn it every day for the past 4 years, or longer. And he sort of smiled as he held the cap out in front of him and I took a picture.

That is how I will remember him, always.

Some mornings ...

... are simplybeautiful, even in this 1-horse, 4-stoplight town.



And I suspect, too, that fall is on its way. And while I anticipate the colors, I dread the winter to follow.



(Although snow can be very cool.)

9-11

Now playing: “Worlds Apart” on The Rising by Bruce Springsteen. Aside from a little “Mr. Bojangles” by Nina Simone this a.m., the Boss’s CD is the only one I have been listening to today.

I hold you in my arms,
yeah, that’s when it starts
I seek faith in your kiss
and comfort in your heart
I taste the seed upon your lips,
lay my tongue upon your scars
But when I look into your eyes,
we stand worlds apart

This CD came out in July of 2002. I was still numb then, not necessarily from the events of Sept. 11, 2001, but from the course of my life over the few months that followed, and the first song that grabbed ’hold of me and simply would not let go was “Empty Sky,” mainly because I had an empty heart ... OK, not empty, but torn and twisted. And then, a couple of months later, I began to rebuild and rejuvenate and realize that yes, indeed, miracles DO happen ... and wouldn’t you know it, Bruce even has a song called “Countin’ on a Miracle” on this album, too, so there ya go.

: )

And 3 years after the original 9-11, I finally officially have something HAPPY to remember this day for: My partner, The Lovely, and I are the 2004 Benton Pizza Hut Open Women’s Open Doubles Champions. And if you think it was easy ... well, think again.

We start out the day at 10 a.m. going up against the No. 2 doubles team on the juco team my partner coaches. We like our chances, too, but next thing we know, we are down in the first set and end up losing it 6-4. And the second set is close until we finally edge ahead (heck, I don’t really remember exactly how it went; I think we edged ahead, but it’s been a long-ass day, so who knows, really). Anyway, we end up winning 6-4, and then it’s on to The Super Tiebreak. Which is different from The Regular Tiebreak (first to 7 points, win by 2) because in TST, it’s the first to 10.

Somehow, though, we manage to fall behind by a few points, only to come roaring back to go up 8-7 — with me serving — and I really have not been “nervous” all match long, to this point, but suddenly, with the match literally on my racket, I did feel a few butterflies.

We win the next 2 points and the match. On to the finals!

This time, though, we get to play the No. 1 doubles team. (Note from the author: The average combined age of the teams we played today is 38; the average combined age of my partner and me is 97.) And we start out a little like we did in the first match: behind. But we are competitive, and we keep it close before losing the set 6-4. Then, in the second, we jump out to a 3-0 lead, and later we are ahead 5-2 before THEY come roaring back ... and next thing we know, they are AHEAD, 6-5.

And for me, the second set is particularly strange because I keep feeling REALLY nervous-like, as if I cannot get my second wind and my legs do not wanna move ... but somehow, I keep hitting the ball (not always ONTO the court or OUT of the net, however), and we score some points.

And somehow, we tie the set and head into a regular 7-point tiebreaker ... and we manage to win it, 7-5. Which means we get to play The Super Tiebreak, again — this time, to decide the championship! (And by now, I am REALLLLLLLLY nervous!)

As we get going, though, it seems as if our opponents are a little more nervous than we are. (Too young to know better, perhaps?) And we go ahead, and before we know it, we are up 9-5 with my partner serving match point!

The other team wins the point, but I keep telling myself, OK, we still have a match point ... and after a short exchange, I get a short overhead and angle a winner to the left doubles alley!

I hug my partner and shake hands with our opponents, and then, when we sit on the bench, I get actual TEARS in my eyes because — well, what the hell, it has been a long, LONG time since I have won a tournament. And I cannot even remember the last time my partner and I have won a tournament together, so that makes it especially special. And nice.

And at this moment, I love the fact that moments like these can bring tears to my eyes.

And later this night, after watching Svetlana Kuznetsova defeat Elena Dementieva to become the first Russian woman to win the U.S. Open, I suddenly get over my irritation from the previous day (that no American woman would be playing in the final) and find myself crying, once again, when, during the trophy presentation, Elena asks for another moment of silence to honor the Americans killed on Sept. 11, 2001, and the Russians killed on Sept. 4, 2004 ... and then Svetlana dedicates her victory to those same victims.

And for a moment — between this day and my beautiful life in general — I can honestly believe that there is, indeed, hope for a better world.

: )

And in-between the two tennis tournaments, I took pictures of roses. And thought of Le Petit Prince as I did so.

Hero

When the Stars Go Blue

Dancin’ where the stars go blue
Dancin’ where the evening fell
Dancin’ in your wooden shoes
In a wedding gown

Dancin’ out on 7th Street
Dancin’ through the Underground
Dancin’ little marionette
Are you happy now?

Where do you go when you’re lonely?
Where do you go when you’re blue?
Where do you go when you’re lonely?
I’ll follow you
When the stars go blue, blue
When the stars go blue, blue
When the stars go blue, blue
When the stars go blue

Laughing with your pretty mouth
Laughing with your broken eyes
Laughing with your lover’s tongue
In a lullaby

Where do you go when you’re lonely?
Where do you go when you’re blue?
Where do you go when you’re lonely?
I’ll follow you
When the stars go blue, blue
When the stars go blue, blue
When the stars, when the stars go blue, blue
When the stars go blue
When the stars go blue, blue, blue
Stars go blue
When the stars go blue

Where do you go when you’re lonely?
Where do you go when you’re blue, yeah?
Where do you go when you’re lonely?
I’ll follow you, I’ll follow you, I’ll follow you
I’ll follow you, I’ll follow you, yeah
Where do you go, yeah?
Where do you go?
Where do you go?

— Ryan Adams, as sung by The Corrs and Bono

Damn, I love this song. Matter o’ fact, my first online journal was called “Are You Happy Now?” (I was not.) I would link to it if I had any idea what the link was, but I do not. It was a tiresome collection of self-pity and self-whatever-you-call-it-when-you-are-constantly-beating-yourself-up — deservedly so, but man, what torture to write. And re-read. Good riddance, I say.

And meanwhile, I keep fucking up my margins.

But it is ALL good.

Good day at work, good nap (weird dream, but ...), then around 4 p.m. I headed to the theater to see Hero. And I knew the odds were pretty good that I would like it because the girl who has NEVER steered me wrong, movie-wise, had recommended it ... and once again, she was correct.

It was beautiful.

And as I told her, I was one of only a handful of people in the theater, and the rest were all men, so I was feeling trés butch — until the film actually started, of course, and I quickly realized it was NOT going to be all about the duels (Hero is so NOT The Matrix, in any of its versions). No, it was much more complicated, and much simpler, than all that: Love, honor, betrayal, art. Oh, and some kick-ass sword duels!

: )

I think we all have opportunities to do heroic deeds, every day, in the small choices that we make. Damn, there is a quote I vaguely recall from one of my favorite TV shows, Judging Amy, regarding morality, in which Vincent says (to Amy, I believe) that it is not some grand act or decision, but rather the little choices we make, every day of our lives. Damn, I wish I could find the actual quote; I found it brilliant.

Tee-Hee and I were discussing, again, what makes people cross that line when it comes to money. Actually, we got on the topic when she was telling me about Catch Me if You Can and how it was based on a real story, and how the guy had gone to prison but eventually ended up working for the FBI or the CIA or some other illustrious branch of the government because (I think?) he was so good at detecting counterfeit money. And I told Teresa that I was surprised that the Feds or law enforcement agencies of any kind, really, were ever able to catch the culprit because, as I put it: What kinds of people generally go into law enforcement? People who want to “do good,” or people with criminal minds? And of course, it is usually the do-gooder who tries to catch the evil criminal, right ... but how do you CATCH a criminal if you do not THINK like a criminal?

Which is neither here nor there, I suppose, and we eventually revisited the issue of line-crossing in regard to money. And how, even though it has been drummed into your head that stealing is wrong, and that you should never take something that is not yours, some people reach a point at which it suddenly becomes “OK” to take money that they have not earned. Perhaps because it is so incredibly easy, or because they are at the end of their financial rope, or because they really just do not care, anymore.

But can they ever truly accept the fact that what they have done is NOT wrong? Or can you ever get to the point where you say (and mean it, completely): “Hey, it’s only money!”

Wow, that was definitely NOT the tangent I intended to go off on!

What I wanted to write about, what I have been meaning to write about, was a moment just after sailing on Monday. We had left the marina and headed toward the beach, and Kurt was up at the van getting the rings, and the boys were in the water, Lisa was sitting on a beach towel watching them, The Lovely had taken Shelby to the bathroom, and I was standing just outside the sand, leaning against a fence, my elbows on the smooth logs. It was raining, ever so slightly. And I was thinking about the day I had just spent on the lake, surrounded by people I love who love me, really love me. And I also thought of a girl that I have loved probably from the instant I met her but have managed to push away at various points in our relationship (?? — I really do not know the proper term for what she is to me, nor I to her), and how she is now very much present in my life, right now, and how up until now I have never fully been able to appreciate all that she gives, all that she is capable of giving, and how I have come so close to losing her so many times — in fact, I honestly believed I had lost her ... except for this tiny part of me that kept hoping, hoping, that I had not — but here she is/was/is. And in that moment, my life felt perfect.

I am determined not to risk losing the people I love.

Dancin’ little marionette
Are you happy now?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Come Sail Away

I’m sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea
I’ve got to be free, free to face the life that’s ahead of me ...
(From “Come Sail Away” by Styx)

So, finally, my much-anticipated sailing debut took place today on the ever-so-slightly turbulent waters of Carlyle Lake.

And: I loved it.

Enough to go twice in one day. And to already be looking forward to next time. (A split infinitive, and there I was, JUST talking about Mrs. Cohlmeyer, my eighth-grade English teacher, in my just-concluded chat with Mom. Oh, bother!)

: )

So, there we are: Karl, Sherry, Kam, The Lovely and I, boarding the 18.5-foot Hunter sailboat @ 10 a.m. today. Overcast sky, temperature in the upper 70s, breezy 10- to 15-mile-per-hour wind. First we have to maneuver past a houseboat and two jet skis before we can get out of the harbor and out into open water, and then it’s “smooth sailing” from there.

Yeah, rrrrrrrrrright.

OK, let me just say that Karl is an experienced sailor. Been sailing since he was a kid, and has been out on his new (well, new to him, anyway) boat at least a dozen times since buying it about a month ago. The Lovely? Well, she has quite of bit of sailing time logged, also, back in her former life ... but today, she was pretty much staying in the cabin, keeping track of Baby Kam, who appears to adore sailing, too.

Which left Sherry and me as the “deckhands.”

I, of course, was happy to do the mandatory moves to the opposite side of the boat whenever we would do such things as “come about” (I do love the sound of THAT! It just sounds so ... so nautical, y’know??!) When it came to anything technical, though, such as STEERING THE BOAT while Karl fiddled with the mainsail or the jib ... well, that was Sherry’s job.

(We only nearly tipped over one time. And I must say, it was quite exciting ... except for the fact that I had my camera around my neck and would have quite certainly had it ruined if I had suddenly gone swimming ... but I didn’t, so where’s the harm?)

Anyhoo, an ever-increasing wind and some ominous-looking clouds cut short our ride, plus we were meeting The Crew for lunch ... but wow, my “first impressions” of sailing:

1. I love the quiet. OK, there were so many people onboard both times that it actually was anything BUT quiet, there in our lil’ sailboat, but every once in a while, when everyone actually shut up for a nanosecond or two, all you could hear were the waves and the occasional flapping (a bit of luffing, it seems ... don’t ask me, I’ve never heard of the term, either) of the sails. And it was lovely.

2. I love the water. Yeah, I don’t really like the idea of inadvertently going swimming, but if so: Just relax, float on your back and enjoy the view of the sky. Carlyle Lake is huge, the largest lake in Illinois (long as you don’t count Lake Michigan), and I was/am amazed at the varying water conditions as we made our way over about a third of the lake.

3. I love the challenge. Granted, all I really did was sit and shoot and try to observe, a little, but there is a lot of thinking that goes on in sailing. A lot of observation. And work. And it was great to watch Karl and Kurt work together, during our second sail, because they know what they are doing.

Though you would not have known that had you been along with Karl and his dad on the day they took the boat to the dock and saw it COMING DOWN THE ROAD, RUNNING PARALLEL TO THE JEEP BEFORE TUMBLING INTO A CORNFIELD, thanks to neither of them securing the trailer hitch.

Heh. Woulda paid to have seen that.

I think I might want to learn how to sail. Just in case, you know, anyone would ever need me to take the helm. Or raise the mainsail. Or whatever.

: )

Fives

New bloom. My right hand. Shot whilst holding the Olympus C-5000 upside-down ... which is easier than it sounds, really.

Current mood: Happy. A little sleepy. (Is sleepy a mood?) Restless, sorta. And so so SO fucking glad that tomorrow is a holiday.

: )

I am going sailing for the first time ever!

The Dangers of Riding Horses

When I was a little kid, Aunt Janie had a horse. A brown horse (chestnut?), and it seems as if the horse was rather large ... but then again, I was a little kid, so maybe it was only a medium-sized horse, who knows. And it seems as if I should remember the name of the horse, but ... I do not. Because I was a little kid.

Janie kept her horse out at the farmhouse where Grandpa Bob lived. Occasionally, apparently, Aunt Janie would allow me to ride her horse. I know this not because I remember, necessarily, but because I have seen at least one picture of me atop a horse. And I think I was actually sitting on the horse rather than actually riding it. But still.

Oddly enough, I remember that Grandma Evelyn (no relation to Grandpa Bob, really; she was my paternal grandmother, and he is my maternal grandfather) objected to my riding a horse. She was afraid I would fall off or something and get injured, or that the horse would buck and there I would go, heels over head, splat! (Again, I am not sure if I remember Grandma being nervous about this, or whether I remember my mom telling me that she had been nervous. Such are certain memories.)

Of course, the horse was gentle as could be, and any time I was ever on it, Aunt Janie was right there beside me, making sure I would not fall off. And when I really push myself, memory-wise, I have this vague recollection that maybe I did ride the horse, at least once, with Aunt Janie right behind me, holding on tight so I would not fall off.

What I do remember, plainly, is one time, I was walking back to the farmhouse after sitting on or maybe riding the horse, and I decided to take off running, and I tripped and fell and skinned the heck out of my left knee.

So, yeah, I guess it was dangerous. In ways I could have never imagined.

: )

Mainly, I am thinking about horses because we have managed to run horsey photos 4 of the last 5 days in the newspaper (sorta helps that a State Fair is going on nearby!), and this somehow makes me smile.