America is Flat Broke!

After listening to both sides of the continuing budget debates, I am convinced that Speaker of the House John Boehner needs to hold tough with the President and not concede to a budget agreement that includes raising taxes.

America is going broke, and without big businesses being healthy, we are going to fall into an even more serious decline.  I am baffled as to why this is not a no-brainer for the hard-line Democrats.  Have we ever known a prosperous America without big business?  Could we possibly be where we are without the formation and survival of our successful corporations? A big business cannot be healthy burdened with crushing taxes.  Some people are richer than others, and some fall through the cracks.  Life is not fair, and taxes won't help.  We need creative solutions combined with tried-and-true values.

(Idea: Why not urge corporations to "adopt" more social needs, instead of taxing people to death to cure all that ails us - which has never worked anyway, in all our history?  Every inch we make through government help demands more government employees, more paperwork, more red tape.  Businesses make change and grow programs efficiently all the time...can we incentivise them to help starving American children, help save farms, build effective shelters and drug rehabs?)

Anyway, the President is saying that he is taking some risks in conceding to the Republicans in order to get a budget deal done by early August.  Well, heavy is the head that wears the crown, sir - you don't get points for upsetting people in your party - that's a given, if you are doing the job right.

Stay strong, Mr. Speaker!  Get this budget deal done right!  We need jobs, and we need them NOW.  Breadlines may be all the rage again if you don't.

Happy 4th!

I hope the 4th is a wonderful day for all who love this country, and celebrate it's uniqueness, it's freedoms, and it's foundation.  In America you are free to decide your own fate, you can vote without being shot at or intimidated, if you are sick or in need you can find someone to shelter or care for you.  It is one of the most beautiful places on Earth, and was started by the blood, sweat, and tears of amazing men and women.

Do we have problems? Yes, we do.  Do we need to protect what is special about America?  Yes.  Our credit rating is in jeopardy, many are without work and more importantly hope, our systems fail sometimes.  We have increasing crime and poverty.  Our moral compass seems to have a broken needle a lot of the time.

But we celebrate the good things, the right things, the true things - this country and how blessed we are.

It's Midnight's Time

One of my friends at the barn where I keep my horse has to put her horse down (euthanise him)tomorrow, and the whole barn is sad.  Her horse had a freak accident in the ring, and because of his unique make-up, the healing process just never took place in the way it should have, and now with one leg hobbled for many months, his other leg is wearing out.  His health is perfect except for this - heart, lungs, and mind are young and healthy.

It has been amazing to see her go through the last act of horse "parenthood" - making the decision to end his journey now that he is feeling pain.  My friend talks softly to him, cleans his stall lovingly, and feeds him all the things he loves as the days trickle down to tomorrow, his last day. To me, it is in their silence, when standing together, that they say volumes to one another, as they prepare to say goodbye.  As we talked and shed a tear or two together recently, she said, "Just due to a horses' mere size, they have such a presence in your life.  And when they accept you, and offer you their love, that size breaks your heart, in a way." 

This is for Heather, and Midnight, and to a relationship I was blessed to see, and won't forget, ever.


"Somewhere" by Stanley Harrison



Somewhere in time's own space


there must be some sweet pastured place


where creeks sing on and tall trees grow,


some paradise where horses go.


For by the love that guides my pen,


I know great horses live again.

Laughing out Loud, or Lying On-Line?

I'm just going to put this out there...I have something to admit.  It's hard to confess, but I don't think I'm alone...so, okay, here goes.

 Sometimes, when texting, I write "LOL," and I'm not laughing out loud; not at all.  What's worse, I'm probably not even chuckling, or giggling, even.  It's probably deadly quiet; just me and my cell phone.  I am probably either 1) maybe grinning, 2) having a shocked or surprised face, depending on what you told me, or 3) already distracted, but writing "LOL" anyway.  I know; it's a deception, and I'm not feeling great about that.

Am I alone, or are others out there pretending to be laughing out loud when reading texts, too?  And what does that say about us, people?  C'mon!

  I love the Bruins, as I probably made pretty clear in my last post, but here is my favorite hockey player, from my favorite team.  This is my 12 year old son James, who plays for the Reading Rockets, Reading, MA.

I fought the hockey thing with James for years - even as he hugged his knee-hockey stick at the breakfast table as a baby who couldn't even walk, even when he requested skates for Christmas - at 3 years of age.  It involved too much, I figured - hockey is a family sport, as well as a team sport.  "PLEEASE, Mom, can I play?" he asked, eyes wide and sparkling with tears, one summer morning when he was 7 years old.  He was playing street hockey (the next best thing - with a tattered net and a banged-up stick, a cast-off from his brothers, who were soccer kids ((I love soccer!!!  Why coudn't he learn to love soccer?? One hour and you're done!  Less serious injuries!!  It's not freezing on the sidelines!!)

"Yeah, pleease, Mom?" his partner in crime echoed - his dad, my husband Fred.  I stood with my coffee at the curb (I'll never forget that moment), and looked at James.  What if he got hurt?  What if he broke his neck and became paralyzed?  What if the freedom we were edging towards - his brothers were 17 and 20 at the time - was ripped away from us as we travelled from rink to rink, eating at drive-thrus and carrying on friendships by text and at rinkside?

Well, what if?  Then we would deal with it as a family.  The bigger crime would be to deny a kid the glories, sense of team, and...yes, a lot of discipline - that hockey demands.  And our time will come, my husband and I.  But this is OUR time - me, and Fred, and James.  So eight months a year we are hockey-folk, driving from town to town always looking for the rink.  It's a great life, really.

And P.S.... Fred takes him to most practices.  So I've got that going for me. 

Awesome!!!!!! Bruins with the Stanley Cup!!!!

Okay, I have been too excited to even post anything - the Bruins went all the way and won the Stanley Cup!!!!

It went down like this at the Reillys' - we had about twenty or so people over, some of them kids, who were so excited that they ran around like lunatics screaming "Bruins! Bruins!" and slamming down way too much soda.

The adults were edgy; this one was just ...for all the marbles.  It was just too big!!!! We were about to explode!

We all gathered around the tv, the way we did as little kids for the first man on the moon, the difference being that this time people were taking pictures of plays and players on our big-screen and "mobile-uploading" them right on to facebook. 

My husband and many of the guys went into the other room, one of my sons included - we were "talking too much" - the girls, that is.  That's how we handle stress; we jibber-jabber!

Well, when the Bruins won, it was a freakshow - chest-bumping, beer-swilling, shouts of joy (and that's just the women.)  Then, three friends and I jumped into the car and drove straight to Modell's - a tee-shirt shop in Medford, MA.  There we stood in line for an hour and a half with all the Bruins gear we could scrape up; it was like the running of the Brides at Filene's basement.  The atmosphere was sheer, joyous chaos.

Bruins, we can never thank you enough for all the thrills and chills of this run for the cup; we were with you winning or losing (although winning is easier for us, blood-pressure-wise.)  Thank you for a time I will never forget!!!

Nello and I Are Learning...

This, again, is Nello, my new horse.  He is a bit dusty here, having rolled in the dirt for fun, and is contemplating the heavy matters of his life:  is there going to be hay waiting for me in my stall?  Was that loud noise thunder?  Is this gal who brought me here ever going to stop hugging me?

Like every relationship, Nello and I are getting to know each other.  Extrememly reasonable and easy-going by nature (him, I'm talking about), there are still fears to explore - and conquer.

Our first trail ride alone taught me many things - at the barn, a person is a person, but out on the trail, a person is a potential threat, in Nello's mind.  So, we are working on de-sensitizing him of that - a new friend and I trailed together, and with another horse accepting everything we met on the trail - dogs, people, very fast-moving ground animals like chipmunks - Nello relaxed and enjoyed the ride.

He is also the consummate social butterfly.  If he were a person, he would be the affable neighbor cutting his lawn mower engine off just to say hello.  When his stall door is open (because I am picking up his ginormous poops, somewhere behind him), his head is way out, and he is visiting with people, horses, whoever.  He has learned the barn schedule, and has joined the chours of stomps and whinnys when the grain wheelbarrow enters the barn.  Two birds built a nest in his stall, up in the corner, and he listens to them chatter with complete indifference as they take turns sitting on their eggs.

I have discovered muscles I never knew I had - because they hurt so bad.  But this is good, hard work - lifting things, dragging things, shovelling things.  And the riding is exhausting but exhilarating (for me, he would probably roll his eyes), as we circle the riding ring or hit the trail.

In your late fourties, something happens.  It can be a time of GREAT restlessness.  Some look at their partner and say, "I just can't ride the rest of this trail with you - there has to be more for me out there in the world."  Some get a fast car, and try to outrun age. And some, like me, look at what their dreams are, and if they are more attainable than maybe they thought.  And, they begin to work it out.  They perhaps drive to New Hampshire and pick up a horse that was once in a terrible carriage accident, and bring him back to Massachusetts to try to love him and give him a great final chapter.  They consider hard work and mistakes and just a hint of danger to be the antidote to Father Time.

That would be me.  Let's hope I live through it!

Nello Hits the Ground Walking

Nello, our new horse, is settling in to his new home, a stable near halfway between my work and my house.  This is his fan club - my son James and two of his best buddies.

We are doing what you call "ground work"; Nello and I are getting to know each other before I even climb aboard.  For instance, he is getting to know that I spend much of every hour looking for my keys/cell phone/ATM card in my coat pockets, and I am learning that he loves banana treats.  I am getting to know that he is not thrilled with walking through water puddles, and he is getting to know that I can re-cap reality show results to other humans in a manner that is very succinct and yet keeps the dramatic elements intact.  We both are hypnotized by rain.

I spend a fair amount of time standing in his stall pinching myself and thinking, "Do I really have a horse?"  If there were a thought-bubble over Nello's head, it would read, "...does this gal do anything else besides stand in my stall and text people pictures of my head?"

This ground work is important; it eases us into each other, and sets our pecking order, me being the boss(hopefully). We walk around the farm side by side, both of us looking around; we're both new.  It is a quiet, steady time that I am really enjoying.  It's hard to leave him behind when I go home.

There's Always Room for Nello!

Well, my last post was all about slippers, so maybe I scared myself, because I went out and bought myself a horse!  Meet Nello!

Okay, so it went like this: I love horses, and I always have.  I rode as a kid; my parents lovingly leased me an Arabian mare named Joy; a journey in mis-matched horse/human love between a 12 year old girl and an unbroken (un-trained) Arabian that mainly consisted of me staring longingly over the fence at her as she galloped appealingly in the pasture.

My next effort was riding in exchange for stable chores when my first two boys were young; I rode a Thoroughbred named Fergie and was trained by the Iraqi Equestrian Olympian coach (her owner) as my two little boys stared at us from the fence. I came home smelly, exhausted, and happy. That ended when we moved out of state.  Good-bye, Fergie.

Next on the Deirdre-longs-for-horse-time tour: Last year,I leased a huge draft horse from a young Russian woman (the horse understood Russian perfectly, I kept saying "Da, Da" to him when he did something good) and was terrified the whole time I was aboard.  This horse was simply too big, (the tips of his ears hit the stable ceiling) and I spent all my time mentally composing my will and imagining my funeral as we "enjoyed" our rides in the woods.  I decided my life should not end in the woods of Western MA. Goodbye, comrade.

Now...to Nello.  I have been tired - mentally and physically.  I have been working hard at my job, running our house, and doing all that is involved in modern parenting - field trips, baseball/hockey games, making sure homework is done, providing good meals (ok, that last one is a stretch.)  One day I said to myself, I am going to go on the internet and look at horses for sale.  This is kind of like looking at bathing suits on line; are you really going to get that perfect fit?  Well, I ended up driving up to New Hampshire to look at a horse named Shadow - who once we met, was clearly not for me.  Shadow's owner scratched his head.  "I do have another horse maybe you'd like to take a look at - he's older, and hasn't been used for much worth a darn since I've had him, but he's a nice enough fellow - loves kids."  Well, that sounded like me!  (He even has a little arthritis; we have even more in common than I thought!)

So, I rode him for half an hour, and heaven opened up, and angels wept, and before I knew it I had my checkbook out and just bought this guy.  (He was at a bargain-basement price, mind you.) The whole way home I practiced explaining my new purchase to my husband in my rearview mirror.

I changed his name on the way back from picking him up; as he stood patiently in his trailer on the way to Massachusetts I decided to change his name from Kato (wasn't that the name of the guy who rented a room from OJ Simpson?) to Nello - a family name.  Nello was my grandfather Waldo's twin brother, who died in the early 1920's in his early twenties from an appendicitis attack, and left behind for generations to come a sketch of a horse he once did; family members say he loved to draw. Much else about him has remained unknown through the passage of time and his early passing.

So, it has happened; a childhood wish has come true.  In the right way, and at the right time, with (finally) the right horse.  Hallelujah, and God bless the man who sold him to me.

It's time to ride off into the sunset now...I'll be back to blog some more soon!

Am I Slipping???

I was just finishing packing up to leave my folks' Maryland home and head for the airport, and I was chatting with my sister, who was standing watching me struggle with the zipper on my bag.  I was absolutely extolling the virtues of a pair of slippers I purchased back home in Boston (and was now cramming into the outside pocket of my bag.)  I was saying "...you wouldn't believe how comfy these are, Carole; I have been looking and looking for a pair with this type of arch support, but yet still had some flair..."

Suddenly, it was like I was outside of my body, floating around, looking and listening in both disbelief, and total clarity.  I have reached the age where I am enthusiastic - nay - excited - about slippers.  "Looking and looking?"  "Arch support, but still has flair?"  Were these words spoken by me? 

What is next, pray tell - sweatshirts with fuzzy cats on them, or coupons for the Early-Bird at Appleby's?

And yet, this is life.  We do change, and grow (which way, up or down, is a matter of opinion) and get a little older and well...into our slippers. Footwear is important, and I'm not going to apologize for that.  :-)

Fly Away Flyers...

Okay, I was not going to post anything today - celebrating having the MOST AWESOME fighting force in the world ( I will note that some are making a big deal of the manner of Bin Laden's sea burial; that it is not within Muslim "custom" to have a sea burial unless the person dies at sea.  I would like to note that it is not a Christian/American "custom" to be blown up at your desk while working; no one seemed to mind that breach of protocol. Please - give us a big fat break.)

Anyhoo, I just logged in to note down, for my own sanity, one thing.  I cannot stand the Flyers.  I cannot wait for the Bruins to mop them up so we can move on.  The Kenny-G-like dude drives me crazy, and they have more than their share of dirty players.  GO BRUINS!!!  My player is Ryder; I love to watch him play!  And Bergeron too. :-)  Power line for Bruins is Campbell, Paille, and Thornton.