Okay, you know that thing where when you smack something so hard that as soon as you look at the affected area, a bruise has already formed? Well, this morning, the golf cart grabbed my beautiful hunting whip, literally whipping it out of the cart with the knob end whacking me on the shin. Just exactly above my work boots. Huzzah. Fortunately my whip, made by a local artist/equestrian, is fine. Given the location of the bruise, I am able to wear an ice pack but still continue to wander about - although I feel rather like Lindsay Lohan under house arrest.
Oh, well now I've jumped way too far ahead...
I went to a small, private women's liberal arts college on the east coast that folded in 1977 leaving us with no alumnae association. We all scattered to the wind as happens during several decades. Once I had the internet, I tried looking for a couple of my friends - the ones whose married names I knew. Whose weddings I'd been to. This was still during dial-up days when you would put your words into the search box and then you'd go, say, make a meal and then come back to see if anything came up. The first one I found was my friend, PK. Funny, smart, loving, lovely, beautiful PK. Her obituary from just 3 years or so prior - breast cancer. I wept for 2 weeks and then stopped looking anymore for a while.
A few years ago, I heard via my old colleagues on Anguilla that someone was looking for me and I gave them permission to give out my personal info.
In the meantime, I tried putting some names into the facebook search box again and finally a couple of them came up! One was for the friend who was looking for me and another confirmed that the info I had recently come across for another bff had been correct - she did live in Arkansas. Dee (not her real name - forgot to ask her if I can use her name in my blog) asked me if I travelled and would I come & visit? Well, I hadn't gotten on a plane in almost a decade because A) I hate it and 2) for much of that time, I was too large to fit into those seats but I said "Sure" and along with another friend (and roommate of almost 5 years from NYC days) we agreed to meet at Dee's farm to celebrate the Royal Wedding of Wills & Kate - AND as it turned out the capture of Osama Bin Laden as well. We'd also spent the NY black-out of 1977 together.
None of us had seen each other in over 30 years but within 30 minutes it felt as though it had only been 30 days - not a whole lifetime!
Over the next few visits, Dee & I had discussed me moving down here in a sort of hypothetical scenario but since my housemates in Montana were putting their house on the market and I was going to have to pack up all of my stuff anyway, it seemed to be a sign that it might just be time for a new adventure. Dee's friend and tenant had an extra bedroom in his house and he was willing to share with me so I thought, "why not?". After all, isn't it what almost every little girl and her bff decide around 9 or 10 years old, "Hey, if neither of us is married when we are old (generally deemed at that point to be 35) then we should live in the same town and grow old together". Sort of Golden Girls in The Ozarks. My friend Nici, has been a great inspiration in having faith in leaps of faith. So here I am.
Foxhunting is a big deal here and Dee is Master of the Foxhounds. Holy crap, this is no job for sissies. There is a ton of work involved in running the farm and over the years, she has learned a great deal about veterinary medicine as well and I am just generally in total awe of her. If they were to make a movie of Dee's life - Barbara Stanwyck would've been the best choice to play her - except for the fact that she is way, way older than Dee and also, quite dead.
I am trying my best to learn things so that I can maybe be useful and give her a hand whenever she needs it.
In the off-season, the hounds are "walked out" (or exercised) twice a week (generally the same days as the hunts in season). Today I was asked to lead the walkout (just the 3rd time I've done it). We (the golf cart - usually with with Dee & me in it and generally anywhere from 2-4 people on horseback) travel about part of the farm from pond to pond and also keep the hounds used to hearing and responding to the commands that Dee gives them during the hunt. The hounds are told to "Come behind!" (the golf cart now but Dee on her horse during the hunt) and then with the command "Ok Boys!" they are off like a shot. It's very cool.
The cutting of wheat is just beginning so in most of the fields the grass/wheat is getting really tall. The hounds would go running off and then come running back looking at me like, "Where are we going? We can't see! The grass is TOO HIGH!" When it was time to get them behind the cart - I had to stand on the golf cart so they could see me and I could crack my whip to get their attention.
About three-quarters through the course, the end of my hunting whip got caught in the golf cart wheel and was snapped off the seat next to me and the rounded knob-like handle whacked me in the shin for good measure. Hurt like a mofo but am happy I didn't harm the whip. Fortunately, it is made of ash, a hard wood. Unfortunately for my shin, my whip is made of ash, a hard wood.
As always, when something doesn't necessarily go my way, I try my best to find something optimistic in the situation (I don't know why - I have pharmaceuticals). Anyway, at least my legs are no longer winter white which would make this bruise (about 6 inches long at the moment, still early days) MUCH more apparent and dramatic. Also, I believe that I have clothing in black, blue, purple, green and yellow so that I might colour coordinate my outfits over the next few weeks as this bruise waxes and wanes.
I do so love a good colour theme...
