On Becoming "The Crazy Cat Lady..."

By now many of you know I've been "under the weather."  Somehow I went from "Good to Go" to "good to donate to a medical study" in oh, about twelve hours? Well, aside from providing a nice, steady feed to my Facebook stream, I've had time to do some thinking...

Have you ever seen a cat smile? I mean REALLY smile? The Cheshire Cat has nothing on my Snugs/Bugs/Tripod kitty. It's a little creepy. And Chloe the Ninja Princess turns out to be a compulsive bather...Chami (my Golden) is a little put-out that I did not read the Bed Schedule. Football Sundays turn out to be "hers." huh. I adore my critters, but I'm a little annoyed that they're annoyed I haven't read the latest family memos. (Ditto for the two-legs in the crowd.) Guys: I'm not enjoying this hiatus any more than you are! I realize that my hair resembles my first doll, Suzy's. ( I used to carry her around by the hair, if that gives you an idea.) I realize the ball-cap doesn't really hide anything. And Parker, in response to: "How do you get your hair to do that?"-- Please go back to the basement and leave me to die in peace. Thank you. SuperMom will be back on duty sometime next week. Possibly (but improbably) wearing pearls.

Down the rabbit-hole we go! I'm burrowing. Under the covers; through the layers of my memory. I joke about becoming "That" Crazy Cat Lady at the end of the street in my old age...but who were those women before? Before they were paranoid. Before they sprayed garden hoses at children walking home from school. Before they were lonely widows? Were they mothers? Were they smart? Were they funny? Did they always roll their stockings down around their knees? And did they have cats? Before?

I imagine myself in a house-dress and apron. Shadows of being partly-raised by my great-grandmother, Lottie. She was born in 1900. Never drove a car. NEVER wore pants. Didn't have anything to speak of, but was probably the most content person I knew. Between her and my IBM-dress-code early-career-days (= Women May Not Wear Slacks), it's no wonder I balked when they said "No tights with skirts" as part of the new company dress code. (My little bird legs will freeze! And I just CAN'T wear pants!) But I digress. WARNING: There will be lots of that in this post...

So: I'm in my house-dress and apron. I have cats. Not an insane number (like twenty), but approximately the same number I have now: three and three-quarters (remember the Tripod). I live by myself in a little cottage with two horses in the yard. And a goat (to keep Henry- and myself- entertained). And chickens. (Because now I'm too old to worry about what I had to do to get them. That story is rated-R). I have an antique Kindle and laugh at my own jokes and stories. I laugh a lot, and cry when I want to. My children and grandchildren visit me when they remember. I try not to kiss anyone who doesn't want to be kissed. I love soup. And zucchini bread. No nuts: they mess with my false teeth. I still wear a bra, because it just feels better, but I have resisted the urge to store important documents and electronics in my bosom. (Grandma developed a Third Breast, later in her life.) And because I have purses. Lots of purses. Do I end up clutching them on my lap with white knuckles? Definitely not! In deferance to my Flight Attendant days, I meticulously stow them under any and all seats in my home. That is, under the seat in front of me, not behind the feet. That wouldn't be safe. And if you're lucky: I'll show you my tattoo. The one I do not regret. I will be THAT old lady...

"That" Little Old Lady on our street was Mrs. Mallory. She lived next door to my grandparents (who lived a few blocks down the street from my mom and me). She was scary and mean; definitely dangerous with the garden hose. She looked like a Little Old Lady. She smelled like a Little Old Lady. She had the plastic furniture coverings of a Little Old Lady. I don't remember her being particularly liked by anyone in my family, but we still had to be respectful good neighbors.I remember that her house, like the others on that street were neat as a pin: white with some sort of 1950-60s aqua trim? Maybe not, but it's how I remember her..It's possible that the Old Soul in me even tried to befriend her on an occasion or two? How I came to be in close enough proximity to smell her or attempt to befriend her escapes my memory...This might be a good place to mention that old people have ALWAYS loved me. They still do. (Even look at my Favorite Passengers List!*). Interestingly, the same is true for my husband. And my children are both "old souls;" an idea I'd like to investigate...

To contrast, Mrs. Sullivan lived across the street. She lived on a corner and had weeping willows in her yard. She gave out Halloween Candy. She was elegant and soft and lovely and friendly and makes me think of hot tea and cookies. Although my memory and imagination may comingle, Mrs. Sullivan had a cat. A Siamese. Just one. Very distinguished, Mrs. Sullivan was. I loved her, even though I didn't know much more about her than Mrs. Mallory. I do recall she was on the "friendly list" with the family though. I don't remember the inside of her house. I do remember the inside of Mrs. Mallory's...

I'm not sure how I got there, or how old I was, but there I was inside Mrs. Mallory's home. I can still smell the stale air. Clean, but stale. I felt scared in that Nancy Drew kind-of-way. I can feel how stiff the sofa was and see the direction I was facing (toward the back of the house). I can see the dust motes floating through the light from the front window, which was behind me. (Pretty sure my posture was good and my hands were in my lap.) I remember being fascinated by the collection of knick-knacks on her mantle. Asian-looking-things. Mysterious. Wow! I can't tell you much about the conversation, except that she told me those treasures were from her dead husband. He died in World War II. Something about the Pacific. I probably hadn't gotten that far in History in school yet, I suspect. (Tanforan was a mall, not a camp for the Japanese!) On recalling this, I see the "bicycle spokes" of driving past the National Cemetary outside San Francisco. It turns out that when you are driving by rows and rows and rows of white grave markers, they look like moving spokes on a wheel...so much motion from such a quiet, still place. No joy of free-wheeling down a San Francisco hill on your bike. The Spokes always meant we were getting close to home after a day in The City. Mrs. Mallory: What did they say to you?

I remember Mrs. Mallory going off to the left to retrieve something from another room. I don't think any of our "conversation" took place with both of us seated. I'm sure the time I was in her home was short. Why did it leave such an idelible mark in my memory? No cats. No laughter. But some kind of realization there was more to Mrs. Mallory than her garden-hose-wielding persona? After that, I still crossed the street with the other kids (to Mrs. Sullivan's side) when walking to and from school. She still gave me the willies. But something changed for me. I wish I could hear more of your story now, Mrs. Mallory. And I promise not to walk on your lawn.

Notes:
*--there is no such written document. yet.

A Day of Adventure in NYC, Part 2: Cupcakes

Time to head back towards the airport...Yikes! Getting to the museum, I was less nervous than trying to make it back "on time" to fly home. (Back to the consideration that listing for the LAST flight of the day was not the smartest idea...) And why do things look so different on the return trip than they did starting out? Clearly, I've been hanging out with horses too much, since they often spook at the same item that was FINE in passing it the first time from a different direction. In fact, "spook" might be a good word choice for me here? hmph. Again, I pulled out the "Airline Smile" and tried to show how relaxed I was about the whole thing. I mean, why rumple a wonderful day? Interesting observation: all of the friendly morning-shift MTA workers had evidently gone home to be replaced by the bitter-let's-mess-with-the-tourists crew. On three different occasions of us asking for directions/help, we came upon workers who were yelling and griping (to put it nicely) to other workers in the booths, with the outside speakers turned on..."Ummm, excuse me? Can you help direct us to the train we take to head back to JFK?" Three times we were directed exactly opposite of the way we needed to go. But Parker and I embraced our subway time; he even almost beat out a wily little man for a seat on the train...but the wily little man was faster. And more than a little competitive. Parker seemed to take this as a challenge: he can be quick and wily, too. Look out subway riders! This is like a video game where quick reflexes and a little butt can be helpful.  I believe, given another day in the city, that his street-smarts could really blossom! huh

This side of the ride had included a much different mix of folks: rowdy foul-mouthed "kids" on their way home from school (I hoped). The shadows of the afternoon were longer and the subway passengers seemed a little shadowier, too. I was no longer hearing a little old black man softly singing spirituals. No longer marveling at the orchestral mix of languages from around the globe. No longer fascinated by the hats. It seemed more people were looking out of their eyes sideways. The tension on the trains was palpable. Was I just tired? Was this the beginning of Rush Hour? I was ready to be finished with this part of the trip. I could tell Parker was getting tired, too. What seemed like an eternity later, and about $20 extra in subway fees, Parker and I arrived at the Jamaica Station. JFK was now in sight! Yay! And on time! Double-yay! I guess I can stop holding my breath now...Oh! Yes, I was holding my breath. Oops, didn't even realize it until I stopped.

But enough about subways...There was more to this trip that would mark it in my memory; much more. Parker and I checked in for the flight and was assured we would get on. Woohoo! (and whew!) He hadn't wanted to eat earlier in the day (not even the famous NY Hot dog...) but after we were "safe" in the airport, he decided pizza sounded good. Ten dollar pizza. rrrrrr. Airport food prices always irritate me. But hey; it's part of the package, right? By this point in  the day, I was really looking forward to a "beverage" during our 3-hour wait. Three hours? Boring? NO WAY! Anyone who has ever spent any time sitting in an airport, particularly an international airport, knows this can be some of THE BEST people-watching anywhere...

And JFK was not to disappoint...

While we munched our pizza (which became more appealing as I watched Parker eat), we watched a large group of Orthodox Jewish gentlemen moving about the concourse. We soon discovered it must be time for evening prayers? The group congregated at a gate set to depart for Zurich. How exotic! This IS the Big Wide World, I thought. Suddenly the group of men began to nod. And bob. And pray. Over and over again. More bobbing. For a long time. Have you ever tried to look cool and non-plussed while fascinated AND in the company of an almost 13-year old boy!? "Parker! Don't stare!" (I'm staring too. Just sneakier.) "Parker! You can't laugh!" (I'm trying not to laugh, which is making it harder.) "Parker, for God's sake, DO NOT bob your head!!!" (I'm going to go to Parenting Jail, because this IS pretty damn funny.) Now I'm thinking I'm the 12-year-old boy...Great modeling, Mom! Another jewel for your Mother of the Year crown! (My but this giggling is fun...) Note to self: learn and teach about World Religion in addition to Art History. This might be an appropriate time to mention that although I consider myself a spiritual person, I have moved far away from the traditional religious observances of my upbringing. I have been raising my children up more in the way I now believe, than in any traditional practice or structured belief system...

So Mama wants a Mike's. I really enjoy my sissy Mike's Hard Lemonade, and how refreshing would one be right now...We were right by a Buffalo Wild Wings. They have my Mike's. Parker and I joked that was my evening prayer: Mama wants a Mike's. And they had sports on TV: perfect to kill time for Parker! So we went to get a table in the packed restaurant, and were introduced to our server. She spoke little-to-no English. huh. Good thing I have a Spanish degree...(not so much). After much explaining and pointing to the menu, Parker and I decided that I would most likely be getting a regular lemonade without ice. Bummer. Not my evening prayer request! So I got the waitress to stop before she ran away, and asked (by pointing to the menu) for a Sangria instead. Okay. I like sangria. And a little bit out of the ordinary. Fun!

Sangria came. Sangria went. Yum. Bill came. FOURTEEN DOLLARS!?!? ugh. It wasn't that good...Damn. On our way out of the restaurant, I made a comment to a couple of guys at the next table (who I noticed were also having difficulties with this restaurant and server) that they should stick with the Sprite, as I just paid $14 for my sangria. They laughed and thanked us. Parker and I went to the gate to wait...

Now earlier, I had been trying to figure out why the Orthodox gentlemen had chosen the Zurich gate for their prayers. Empty with space available for a larger group? Facing a certain direction? I had no idea. So now Parker and I are across the concourse from that gate waiting to go to Minneapolis. Here comes the large group of men. Now, maybe an hour later, they're praying at this gate, which is crowded and facing the opposite direction. So much for my theories. And they didn't seem to be going to Minneapolis either. huh. AND hats! More hats to add to our collection today....flat ones. Curved-top ones. Furry ones. Not all with the curls on the sides, but 90%. (Parker: "I think those are attached to the hats." Me: "No, I think they're attached to their heads." "How do they get those? Do they use little curling irons?") Please note: no disrespect intended! Only curiosity and needed education....

It's getting close to our departure time. We didn't have seat assignments yet, but the gate agent told us we'd be able to get on. That was all I really cared about. Good deal. While we were waiting, the two gentlemen from the restaurant came over to us and thanked us for the tip at BWW. We laughed and exchanged pleasantries. Turns out they were in NYC for a day trip also, and were from the Twin Cities. Here's where the day developed another amazing facet...

Jon and Darin had been in New York for treatment for Jon's cancer. His wife was unable to join him that day, so Darin stepped up as his support and buddy. The two had come in at the same time as we had, and had crammed an astounding amount of fun on top of  their business for the day. These guys were SO nice and SO fun to talk to...their friendship and excitement were contagious. Parker and I both felt an immediate "click" with these men while we compared notes about our day. What fun! One of my greatest joys in life, as I've said, is to meet people and to hear their stories. Some of the greatest blessings in my life have come from encounters just like this one; to share this kind of experience with my son was such a GIFT! As passengers were called to the podium for last-minute check-ins and seat assignments Parker and I commented on how neat these guys were and what an amazing day this had been. We decided there are many more New York Day Adventures awaiting us. Soon Parker and I were called up and were delighted to find we had been assigned seats in First Class! This would be Parker's first time! Cool! Could this day have been any better? Well, as it turns out: Yes. Yes it could.

Parker and I continued to sit and reflect on our adventure: the people, the sights, the new skills we'd discovered we had...I think we stuffed about three days of adventure into one. Well done, I thought. During our reflection, we discussed the neat new friends we had met in Jon and Darin. We had asked them where they were sitting, and had decided that it would be a really nice thing to do to give them our seats in First Class. Jon was assigned a seat there already, but Darin was back in Row 5. I have to take a moment to beam here: How cool is it to discover your (adolescent) child is willing and wanting to give up such a prize as a (first time) First Class seat for someone he just met? This was such a powerful moment for me, I almost cried with joy. (I know I'm sappy, but it's how I feel). We told Jon and Darin what we wanted to do and they were so appreciative and sweet about it, it was WAY more exciting than sitting up there ourselves. I could see that Parker felt it too. Now, I have come to believe in karma over the years, and since Jon had a seat in First Class, it worked out for Parker to still sit in First Class in Jon's seat. Jon and Darin could relax in our seats together, while I sat in Row 5 and almost cried with joy and gratitude for the whole day. Although I have many, many joy-filled moments in my life, this was unquestionably one of The Best Ever. Life is SO good!

Parker and I continued to visit with Jon and Darin throughout the flight, discovering other things we had in common with them. Kids. Horses. Senses of humor. Jon and Darin had visited the famous Crumbs Bakery (famous for The World's Best Cupcakes) during their day and  they were taking a couple of boxes home to their families. They gave us a box as a "thank you" gift (which was SO  not necessary, but REALLY enjoyed!) While we visited with our new friends, I could see the lights come on in Parker's eyes (and it wasn't the cupcakes!) This, I thought, is one of the things I want Parker to feel in Life. This is one of the Great Treasures in living that I want to pass on to him. And to his sister. This is the kind of legacy I want to leave in and for my children: People can be good. And different. And mysterious. And generous. Don't walk through Life afraid. Laugh. Give. Giggle. And eat cupcakes. Cupcakes with new friends. Thank you Jon and Darin. Thank you for an Amazing Adventure.

A day of adventure in NYC! (Part 1)

Happy 2010 Friends! I'm not saying this is a "resolution," but I hope to be better about sharing stories and adventures this year...I continue to be amazed with the people I meet flying and the stories my passengers (and crewmates) share with me. For those of you who have flown with me, you know that on all my flights I ask a "Random Question of the Day" (and have even begun to be known as "The Question Lady" by some of my frequent fliers!). Although often related to food, these questions have been the jumping-off-point for some really fun and fascinating conversations with people. It contributes to the high level of JOY I find in my job...Thanks to those of you who participate! You may not realize what a gift this is for me on a daily basis.

So. Yesterday my almost-13 son and I took a spontaneous day-trip to NYC. Some things you should know before I get to the story are: 1) I have only used my travel benefits to go to Missouri so far, 2) I had only visited NYC once before and was not allowed to ever step foot outside the car and 3) I have a very poor sense of direction. Oh. And 4) I'm not really as spontaneous as I like to believe I am, so this was a BIG step for me. That being said: the day was a huge success and provided me (and my son) with a bag-full of memories I'll cherish forever.

The day would most likely not have happened without the input of one of my favorite Facebook friends, John Williamson. (Thanks John!) John regularly posts links and articles regarding a myriad of topics and shares his wit with friends around the globe. I always look for his stuff first, because he's smart, funny and always interesting. So John posted a link about a Samurai exhibit going on at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Now, many of you with sons in Parker's age-range might have shared my glassy-stare as their young boys have explained all-things-warrior to them. At least I hope you can relate to my smiling-nodding-I-don't-get-the-fascination perspective? Anyway, I knew when I saw the link that Parker would love this...Long story short: I looked into it a bit and realized we had two days to catch this exhibit before it would leave NYC. We listed for the first flight out the following day (I had to have help even with this step. Thank you, Roger.) to return on the last flight home the same night. (A potentially stupid move.) I wish I had been able to capture the look on Parker's face when I asked him if he'd like to miss school to go to New York for the Samurai exhibit the next day...What does Visa say? "Priceless!"

AND HERE. WE. GOOOooo!

Up at the you-know-what-crack-of-dawn, Parker and I set off for the Big Apple. I really had no idea what we were doing, but I was hopeful I'd be able to pull it all off while being impressively-cool as a mom and frequent traveler. A technicality: being a flight attendant is not necessarily the same thing as being a "frequent traveler!" (Confession: I pretty much just go where Crew Scheduling tells me and follow the guys with stripes when we get there...)

Security lines were fine. My son was impressed that Mom seemed "popular" at the MSP airport as we were greeted by co-workers in such a big place full of strangers.  I sprung for McDonald's breakfast at the airport and had my son in a very happy place...The flight was on-time and smooth. We had no problem getting on. Hooray! Our first major success! We landed at JFK and I had my organized-little-self armed with a subway trip planned on the MTA website. Cool. This was easy. Note to assuage my guilt about pulling Parker out of school for the day: I'm confident he learned more just on the subway than in a whole day in the classroom! (No disrespect to my son's fine teachers...) There were people from every country on Earth, I believe, on our ride. Pick a language, any language, and I'll bet you we heard it there. And HATS. What's up with all the hats in NYC!? Fancy ones, simple ones, fur ones, ones with the stickers still on them (Minnie Pearl had nothin' on some of those kids). Warm ones, ethnic ones. It was high entertainment at times. All while trying to look like we had a clue about what we were doing and where we were going. (Watch the eye contact. Hold onto your stuff. Stay with me.) We were also very surprised at how friendly and helpful the people we met were to the Obvious Tourists. Did the upside down map give us away? hmmm. It didn't take long to abandon any hope or concern about disguising our status, which was futile anyway.

Emerging from the depths of the subway into a bright and crisp day in Manhattan, I was almost overwhelmed with how special it was to be able to do this as a day trip. "We're on the corner of 71st and Lexington! Look in this window! Look at that bread! Check out all those cabs!" Really, I embarrass myself sometimes. Good thing Parker is used to me. "Parker! We're on Madison Avenue! Parker! We're on Park Avenue! Look! The French Embassy!" ("Mom, what's an 'embassy'?") "Parker! Look! Hot dogs!" (Really? Did I really say that? Yes. Yes I did. There's much to be said for unconditional love.)

There's the Metropolitan! Yippeeeeee! We're really here. We really did it! The exhibit was wonderful. A lot of swords. I seem to not have a strong eye for differentiating between them all, but Hey. I tried. Parker could tell. How does he do that? My favorite parts were the armor and the saddles. Incredible works of art. How could these masterpieces be functional? huh. There was a stooped-little-old lady on the same path and timetable as we were. She was delightful. She was almost electric in her enthusiasm. I was as fascinated with her as the exhibit. I made sure to point out to Parker that "That's gonna be me, someday!" He didn't seem surprised (or even horrified. whew!). Did I mention I love this kid!? He's an old (and patient-with-me) soul. To backtrack a bit, to get to the gallery with the Samurai exhibit, you have to go through other galleries. I was like a kid in a candy store (Sorry for the cliche). My neck hurts today from all the gawking. I guess I forgot that Parker really hasn't been to many art museums in his life yet. I forgot to give him any warning about "nudity." And penises. Lots of  'em. Sculpted ones. Sketched ones. Painted ones. "Penises on Parade", it seemed, as I viewed the museum through his eyes (And I must credit that title to him.) "Mom, why was it okay back then to paint these people with their clothes off? Why did they do that?" Ummm. It seems I need to spend a little time on Art History with my kids? Note to Self: Do that. Initially, when figuring out if we could even do this trip in a day, I was concerned that we wouldn't have enough time to enjoy the exhibit when we arrived. Not to worry, my son seems to "museum surf" like his father: he's a "flitter." I, on the other hand, am a "systematic and thorough reader." At first, this was a source of frustration for both of us, but we were able to discuss it and agreed to dismiss each other's museum-styles as acceptable. Another success, in my opinion.

Accepting the Challenge: My Flight Attendant RV

Ok, so my FA RV currently consists of three pieces (I do mostly 4 day trips):

1) my desperate stand-in for my roller bag which met
    its untimely demise in DTW last week...
    Notes: Please note the creative use of carabiners
               and bungee cords to keep said bag on ill-
               fitting cart.Classy, huh?
            
               Yes, that is a blanket on top. It's my indul-
                gence item (Brookstone Travel Blanket) so
                I don't have to use my trenchcoat as extra
                covers on overnights! (I hate those cheap
                slippery hotel bedspreads!)

2) my in-flight bag (office-in-a-bag)
    Notes: nothing too odd in here. Laptop, ipod, chargers,  accordian file for paperwork, FA Bible, apron, corkscrew.  (yup, that is an accountable item for us...) Oh! and a Tide pen, sewing kit, extra-thingies to hold wings and namebar on, earplugs. Puffs Plus to go packs (sensitive nose). LIPSTICK. Extra pair of panty hose? collapsible screwdriver to fix airplane!? (heh heh) Post-it-notes and Sharpie.



3) food bag
    "Confessional Contents" worth noting: finger puppets for unprepared pax with small children, colored pencils for loan to older, unplugged children and for long layovers...
way too much Easy Mac and Uncle Ben's rice pouches...Propel packets for gallons of hydration! And tuna. I'm either a cat or a flight attendant...not sure some days...If you feed me, I keep coming back!

Henry's Story - (this is long...)

As you may have read, Henry is the acknowledged Love of My Life. He is a 6 year-old Paint gelding (Tobiano) who came into my life a little more than two years ago. Henry is totally blind. Having Henry in my life has really changed the way I look at things, or at least brought a fuzzy picture more into focus. Will this be a sappy post? Most likely. Turn away now if you are squeamish. But if you suspect you might believe in, well, things working out despite our intentions, read on...

We brought our Arab/Quarter mare to Circle C Ranch outside of Stillwater, MN, after boarding with friends for awhile. Boarding at someone's home, however, didn't work very well for us as we always felt like we were intruding on them when we showed up. We heard about Circle C through a forward from a friend-of-a-friend and went and checked it out. It was nice, clean, the horses looked well-cared-for and it was in our price range and desired location. But it wasn't a "Pony Club" or eventing barn. In fact, there seemed to be a range of disciplines there, including some mounted police. Interesting. There really weren't any jumps there to use, which is what Audrey and Bashira enjoyed. But I had this feeling...ok. Big deal. "Feelings"--harumph. I spoke with the owner and liked her. Still, just normal stuff, really. So we arranged to move our girl.

Fast forwarding: Shortly after we were there, I found a different part-time job that intrigued me (and that paid better than the gourmet cookware shop where I had been) at a museum in St.Paul. Gibbs Museum of Pioneer and Dakotah Life. I had been a docent before I started a family and LOVED it! I have always been a "museum geek" and this was going to be a great fit for me and my family. So I jumped...As I got into the job, I discovered that this farm museum had no horse. How can a farm museum representing Minnesota life in the 1860s not have a horse!? So I thought I'd move Bashira out there, and then I could have the best of several worlds: my horse with me daily, free board, and the requisite horse on-site. (Not that there were many QuarAbs in MN in the 1860s, but I digress.) I called Jess (owner of Circle C) to tell her what I was thinking. Until this point, my interaction with her had been friendly but just passing stuff. Then things just started "clicking..."

Jess told me that she had a horse who had been injured during a training accident. She told me how much he loved attention from people and that he needed a "job," something to do. I agreed to take a look at him (keep in mind that my family is still quite new to this horse-thing. Honestly, my version of "looking at him" is this: is he pretty? Is he "nice?" When we bought Bashira, our first horse, our instructor/trainer/veterinarian "fixed us up." Thought I'd come clean now...) Really, for the museum we needed a pasture ornament. A safe pasture ornament. Yes, Henry was pretty. Jess came out to the museum to check out our facilities, fencing, etc. and to make sure it would meet Henry's needs. Then we jumped...


Henry came to the Gibbs and was a HUGE hit! He took to his celebrity role right away (with staff and guests), and seemed to genuinely LOVE his new gig.  I (and everyone who met Henry) was amazed at how well he navigated in his pasture. At how friendly and sweet he is. At how "nice" he is. I had seen other horses "off the track" who had "issues" with fear, anxiety, even anger. Surely if an animal had a reason to be "damaged, " it would be one who couldn't see? But Henry had been blessed to be in the hands of a WONDERFUL owner before...and Jess continued to provide him a loving, stable home even after he couldn't show. She didn't have to do that. One thing I've learned in this horse world is how "disposable" horses are: when they don't meet your needs any more, sell them and move on. Maybe because I'm a newbie, I could never understand that. Isn't the big thing with a horse the relationship you have with them? Anyway...Jess spent a long time grieving for Henry and his accident. But she never gave up on him. Then we moved to her barn and I took this museum job and it was all like it was supposed to work that way. Wow. All spring I kept reporting back to Jess how well Henry was doing, how many people were touched by his "second chance," and how MADLY in love I was falling with him. Henry was even receiving FAN MAIL from groups of school children! (I've never been so proud to be referred to as "The Horse Lady" either!) One day, she asked me if I would like to have Henry "for my own." I felt like I was eight years-old with pig tails popping out of the sides of my head as I said "YES! DEFINITELY YES!"

Well Henry and I were blissfully installed at the museum for two full seasons (the museum is only open from spring to end of October), but we would "go home" during the off-season. I completely loved my job there, from teaching the hundreds of kids that came for field trips (In addition to doing tours,I specialized in teaching them how to hand-dip beeswax candles, how to make homemade ice cream, and how to make corn husk dolls...) to exchanging stories with the folks of ALL ages that came through our gates. It's funny to remember how much I loved the Little House on the Prairie books and show as a kid, and how much I played "Half-Pint" in all my imaginings...Only to grow up into a 40-something playing pioneer woman all over again! (Life IS good!) My kids were able to spend the summers with me at the museum volunteering, too. It was an ideal setup! So why am I talking about all this in past tense?

Economics. As I said, the museum is only open six months out of the year. Horses eat and kids need stuff TWELVE months of the year. Dang. So I surfed. I looked for jobs in "travel and hospitality" to fill the other six months of the year. I looked for other museum jobs. I KNEW I didn't want to go back to retail; I wanted to think that "at my age" I had progressed to doing something beyond that, without compromising my investment with my kids. At the time, I only wanted something part-time. Then I stumbled across an ad for a regional airline hiring flight attendants. huh.

When I was in my twenties I had been intrigued with the idea for a brief time, but thought I was really too "educated" to be a "sky waitress" (since I had a big college degree in English and Spanish), and it didn't pay the big bucks I thought I should be making. ha ha. Funny how that all sounds to me now...(Anyone else out there been young and arrogant? And stupid?) SO over a glass (or two) of wine, my friend said "Why not try it?" And the wine said "huh."

FAST FORWARD: (Really, I know nothing about this post is fast, but...) Did you know that training to be a flight attendant is quite an investment of your time and energy? And that Flight Attendants do MUCH MUCH more than serve your cokes and clear your trash!? And that it's HIGHLY ADDICTIVE!? Well, now you do! My part-time-fancy turned into a full-time return to a career (a REAL one, really!) And as it turns out, it's working out very well for my whole family. But back to Henry...

In addition to my guilt and fears (real and imagined) about returning to work full time (I had stayed home with my kids besides the part-time-playing) and the effects that would have on my family, I had HUGE guilt over not being able to return to the museum for Henry's sake. How could I, in good conscience, NOT be there for him? It was a perfect fit and I loved every minute of it; so did he. But the reality of my finances was that I needed to do something full time, or sell Bashira. Not an option. And I believed (and still do) that the museum is not staffed with any other "horse people" with whom I would feel comfortable entrusting Henry's full-time care. Jess was (again) wonderful as I called her sobbing about what-to-do. Had I let her down, too? Thankfully, she is a wise woman. And a good friend. She assured me that Henry (and I) would ALWAYS have a home there. Oh God, she had NO idea how much I needed that! (Our barn is my Happy Place; a true sanctuary.)

A year later, I am flying around, loving the time I have at home (gone is the burnt-out mom...) and genuinely appreciating my time with my horses and barn friends. Henry is in the home he's always known, occasionally taking care of the whipper-snappers. I've been working with him in lessons on the ground to get ready to ride him. (Although, I can honestly say to all those people who asked me "Can you ride him?" that if I never got to ride him, that'd be okay, too. I don't ride my dog, either, and that certainly doesn't diminish my relationship with her!) I just feel SO privileged to learn all the things that Henry has to teach me: "it's no big deal," "let go and move on," "use your other resources" and "PLAY" to name just a few! I still feel guilty that I can't do both the museum and fly, but I have to be realistic. And that's okay. So if you've stuck with this post this long, please stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Henry and Kim. I hope it will continue to be a long and wonderful trip...Thanks for listening. (And Jess, if you're reading, Thanks for the BEST GIFT I've EVER received and for being such an AMAZING person!)

Green Peace

Well this is not starting out to be a very entertaining blog....Don't give up on me, though, I start flying again Thursday. I have been spending lots of quality time with the house critters while getting over being sick. Strep throat in the summer? Really? But moving on...

The Animal Kingdom seems to have been enjoying all the quiet time...although Snuggles is definitely jealous of any and all attention paid to electronic devices! He has had ample opportunity to perfect his tuck-and-roll-throwing-body-on-the-keyboard moves this week. Oreo ("the Baby") has made peace with the black-thing-with-wheels today. Stemming from my growing frustration with trying to de-hair my suitcase for each trip, I've covered it with a towel whenever it's "parked." This seems to have generated a new monster for Oreo to wrestle, so now it goes like this: hop, circle, yoga, lick, drop-on-side-and-kick-like-mad-with-hind-feet, resume bathing like nothing ever happened, resume attack and try to bury towel-monster, fall fast asleep...etc. It's exhausting to watch!

Parker decided to take a bath today (immediately after his shower) and evidently thought bubbles would be a nice touch. And jets. Since he didn't ask, no on told him what happens when you use the jets with the bubble bath. It might be next Tuesday before all those bubbles go away! Needless to say this was a cause of GREAT concern for the bathroom monitor, Snuggles. Like the rain in that room wasn't bad enough, now we've got THIS!? Poor Boy came crying out of the bathroom to Audrey and me, trying his hardest to describe the horror of it all...Rest assured, he is now recovering in a nice ball at the end of his bed.

Backing up a bit, Audrey and I went to the barn a couple of days ago. It was the first day I felt like I was going to live and was having serious horse-withdrawal. My attendance at the barn has been really pitiful this summer with my work schedule and being a taxi driver when I am home (which has negatively impacted my whole attitude, I confess). So Audrey and I headed over to my happy-place...We packed the camera in hopes of getting some updated pics of my ponies--two sets of hands are always better than one! Historically, Bashira can go out with anyone; she's an easy horse. And so is Henry; he even takes care of the babies at the barn on many occasions. But Bashira is a girl. And possibly a little possessive with "her" people? Whenever we've tried to introduce them to each other, she does her little-mare-squeal and turns away from him. I'm sure it doesn't help that he can't read her body language like other horses. But we've been patient and just keep giving them supervised visits and praise positive results. So that's what we were anticipating.

To make a long story a little bit shorter, it seems there IS such a thing as "green peace!" It was such a beautiful day we decided to groom them outside and to let them hand-graze as a treat...It was a great start to a memorable day: the whole day was a success! Audrey and I even seized the opportunity and ponied Henry to Bashira (remember, he's blind and hasn't really been ridden in a couple of years). SUCCESS!!! She was good. He was good. And it all added up to the BEST day of my summer....sigh...

Introductions...Nice to meet you!

Hi All. I'm Kim. I'm new to this blogging thing, but think I've always had one running in my head...

I chose the title "Four Feet in the Air" because it seems to capture the things I'm most passionate about these days: my critters and my career as a flight attendant. I am married (16 years) with two kids (Audrey, 15, and Parker, 12). We live outside the Twin Cities, on the Wisconsin side with a view of rolling hills and beautiful trees. No, I don't care much about the Packers, the Vikings, or Brett Favre (unless there is a good tailgate involved). We have a Golden Retriever who has no clue she's a dog, 3 and 3/4 cats (Snuggles is a "tripod") and two horses who live on the Minnesota side of the river. I fly for a regional airline, and am having the time of my life working in the mini-microcosm of humanity! Stay tuned for lots of good stories, as I seem to be in the "accelerated program" for gathering 'em...

Now meet the Cast of Characters:

• Doug -- hubby of 16+ years. good guy. lawn-obsessed.eyes me w/ puzzled look on his face most of the time. Has said I'm like living with Lucy...
• Audrey -- 15 and starting Freshman year.cheerleader (the one they throw around.great.) gives father fashion advice now. knows everything (don't have to send her to college, this way!) Starting drivers' ed this fall; this ought to be GOOD! Thinks cell phone is a body-part.
• Parker -- 12 on his birth certificate, but an old soul.very witty boy, likes torturing his mother with "yo mama" jokes.Dubbed "the Cat Whisperer" years ago for his feline-communication-talents. Makes my eyes glaze over with football facts.
• Chami -- 9 year-old Golden Retriever. Canine Goddess in touch with her deity, not-s0-much with the canine part...has been a mom to a fat hamster, two rabbits, and four cats so far. Didn't know she could swim until she was about five and doesn't like it.Doesn't believe in retrieving after bringing it back once. "You keep losing it, You go get it" is her philosophy.My soulmate.Sometimes we let Doug hang off the edge of the bed.
• Zip -- 7 year-old Zen Master cat. Definitely the distinguished gentleman of the bunch.Dedicated to the art of yoga, and yogurt, now that you mention it...Did someone crack one open!? Deep thinker...Nice manners.
• Chloe -- 5 year-old Princess. Likes 2legs to think she's timid and shy only as a cover for her true ninja identity.Ringleader and timekeeper for all feeding times.Don't think you can hide under a pillow, either! Has her own room with french doors, which you may enter By Invitation Only.(or if you have saltine crackers)
• Snuggles -- 5 year-old Tripod. DO NOT think that 3 legs slows him down!!! Has serious and continued concerns over 2legs stepping into raining room all the time.Towels (fresh out of the dryer OR wet) are the best things in life.Hates "the Baby" and insists everything is her fault...Very opinionated and vocal about it.Has the ability to move a 75-pound dog off a nice, warm spot while maintaining highly cultivated innocent look.
  
• Oreo -- "the Baby" (1+ year-old) is really her criminal tag. Taunts the Goddess with her ability and desire to play fetch.Delights in pestering Big Brother Snuggles as often as possible. Not sure what to think of 2legs, except for the Whisperer.You are not safe if you have a stash of Cheerios anywhere accessible.
• Bashira --15 year-old Arab-Quarter cross. Would wear lipstick if she had opposable thumbs. Beautiful girl living the good life (= eating, pooping, being pampered followed by more eating).Audrey lost interest in riding in Jr.High, so she's just a kept woman at this point.Gets ridden when I get occasional bursts of ambition and time home.Should beware that kids go back to school soon, so I'll have more time! She's a pretty jumper;too bad it's so challenging from the fetal position...
• Henry -- 6 year-old Paint.The acknowledged Love of My Life. (Hubby seems ok with this...or resigned to the fact).Henry is totally blind and one of the MOST AMAZING living creatures I've ever had the privilege of knowing.One of the best teachers and friends and girl could hope to have.