Fear of Making Plans
I am back from the untamed wilds of Montana (and Wyoming, I guess technically. And Seattle). While Rebecca Farm was on my bucket list, the rest of Montana wasn't and it really should have been. I have tons of media, including a several hour long helmet cam in which my friend and I practice some low stress livestock management. (She works here, if you want to eat grass fed beef. I had some, you do.)
|A livestock experiencing low stress|
He is awesome.
It feels weird to be back and planning for my future because I have been off plan for so long. I'm also a little afraid that the second I say I want to do something I will break an even dumber bone than my pinky. But I guess that is life, right? There's no room to be afraid when you're grabbing a bull by the horns, and other such tired metaphors.
There's an in house schooling show at my farm in a little over two weeks that Runkle and I will be contesting. No one else enter Beginner Novice A I want a blue ribbon. The weekend after that we're going to do the Combined Test at Flora Lea, followed by Runkle's very first horse trial!!
I'll believe it when I'm leaving the start box, honestly.
How do you balance making plans and then the total bastardization of those plans? I'm back to riding like normal, jumping like normal, and galloping over fields (like... not normal). But when I think about what I want to do in the future I suddenly shy away from making a plan. What if something happens to me? What if something happens at work or I have a family emergency?
I feel like I've said this before, but I'm capable of and used to dealing with horse injury. That's a fact of horse life. What's shaken me up is there is more than one way to hit a detour, besides Runkle kicking himself in the face somehow.
|My friend's horse, Zuby the Arabian|
|Her other cow horse Blue that she LASSOS OFF OF!|
|The Lamar Valley at dawn|
|Dog's best friend... a stick.|