Writing about art

Britney Spears still hangs on the bedroom wall of my boyfriend’s childhood bedroom.  Even after the boys finally and permanently moved out of the house, it took their mom until her retirement to strip down football posters, empty the shelves of t-ball trophies, and dress the faded walls with a coat of new paint.  Legos and board games went into the closet for fingers-crossed future grandchildren, and the only concession that remained was that Britney stayed on the wall.

Lest we throw stones whilst living in glass houses, my own parents’ home hasn’t had a real update in over twenty years.  Mini renovations and purges have speckled the last few decades - when I moved back to Dallas and systematically emptied each room, when they updated the counter tops in the kitchen days before Thanksgiving.  With my mom’s heart surgery a few years ago, even the annual airing of out-of-season clothes ground to a halt.

Particularly in our old bedrooms, there is a stillness in the air, like someone took a breath and held it.  There isn’t a hamster, faintly scrabbling away in the corner, anymore and the air smells neutral and dead, free of the unguents and sprays that we used as teenage girls.  The doors are now flung wide open, rarely closed, and creak when they swing.  A warren of dust bunnies live under my sister’s old twin bed, as do faded college syllabuses, shoe boxes of old ticket stubs, and spare change carefully squirreled away.  Foxtrot comic books and stuffed toys line her bookshelves, and the room sits vacant except for her visits home twice a year.

Instead of using the extra bedrooms for storage, stuff - because there’s no better word for it - encroaches on my parents’ bedroom.  Filing cabinets, my old desk, dusty yoga mats, and at one time three vacuums.  I’m afraid that my parents will eventually disappear between the piles of linens - towels, bed sheets, extra pillows, and comforters.  If you’re not careful grabbing a hand towel out of the linen closet, you could be buried under an avalanche of them.

Ashamedly, the idea of re-purposing and reorganizing the house for my parents was not mine but B’s.  There’s no reason they should live in a museum, half of the things belonging to those of us who no longer live there.  We are like the children of Christmas past, and you must hold on to our Lisa Frank sticker collections and moldy retainers.

So we collectively put our heads together.  We diagrammed, discussed, and debated.  A home office for dad, not just a bedroom with a folding table in the corner.  Another real guest bedroom with an adult-sized bed for adult-sized visitors.  New flooring of some sort, the maroon carpet is over 30 years old and fraying at the edges.  They’ll keep the upright piano, god knows why, as they don’t play.  It’s a glorified shelf for Alexa and greeting cards.

We are starting small, emptying out boxes of tangled electronic cables and floppy disks that are useless, even as coasters.  I sit for an hour and shred five years worth of old credit card and bank statements.  The paper shredder quits on me after 15 minutes so I sit on the floor and tear with my fingers.  Dad and I sort, shred, and listen to the Selected Shorts podcast.  Two hours later, there are three black garbage bags full of things to be tossed.  We’re pecking away at the shrine to the two children who used to live in this house to make it work for the two parents left in it.

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One of the things that’s been in the works since the spring but has at long last been finalized is that I’m moving in August!  Not cities, just into another part of Dallas but still, ch- ch- ch- changes!  We found a townhouse complex that’s currently in the process of being built and will be done in August.  The actual unit is three stories with a basement garage.  It’s closer to my work and the barn, and it’s walking distance to a local supermarket with the best bakery and meat / seafood counters.  B and I will have enough room for both of our belongings as well as a small patch of grass (hardly a front lawn) where B can still grow his tiny garden.  I won’t have to get on any highways to get anywhere on a daily basis.

It’s a little bittersweet.  I’ve been in this apartment since I moved back to Dallas over 4.5 years ago (gulp).  I’ll miss being in the hustle and bustle of Uptown and within walking distance to restaurants, coffee shops, and bars.  I’ll miss running on Katy Trail in the twilight during summertime and in the dead of winter, when you might see only three runners the entire time you’re out.  I am not going to miss the couple who lives above me and fights every night at around 11 pm or the pet owners that don’t pick up dog poop left in the carpeted hallways.  I also won’t miss the scream of jet engines that starts at 6 am and doesn’t stop until midnight from the Southwest flight path over the apartment complex.

B’s excited about the complex’s snazzy new fitness facility and rooftop deck and grills.  I’m excited about being in a bigger space with an open concept kitchen / living space downstairs.  We’ll also have friends that are very close by.

There’s nothing like moving all your worldly possessions in the sweltering, overwhelming heat in the middle of the August.  So, beforehand, I’m going through all of my things and making sure I’m not moving anything extraneous.  I have more Grown Up Possessions than when I moved to Dallas from Houston.  I bought a couch, media console, tv, bookshelves, and basically outfitted the entire kitchen.  I’ve already weeded out my precious colour coded library and tore through my closet this past weekend.  I know I’m probably underestimating the amount of storage that we’ll have at the new place but clutter in any shape or form drives me absolutely batty.  Plus, I refuse to be one of those people who packs a box and never opens it until the next time she moves.

So for the next month, I’ll be throwing away, donating, and boxing things up.  It will be a physical and emotional purging session but I’m ready for it.

Yours truly in the straw hat and 'Merica glasses

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across an article on twitter titled “My road trip through Trump country taught me that staying in the liberal bubble has its advantages.”  The author Marie Myung-Ok Lee and her family, including her disabled son, live in New York City and took a road trip through the southern states on the way to Los Angeles.  And naturally, because she is a writer and teaches writing at Columbia University, she wrote about her trip through “Trump Country” as she calls it.

I am an adult person of colour that lives in the South.  I was born, grew up, and was educated all in the state of Texas.  My parents are immigrants, came to the US to attend university, and have lived in Texas ever since their late 20s.  They’ve both lived in Texas longer than their native country and consider it their home.  Both of my parents are also practicing Buddhists, vegetarians, and staunchly conservative.  Our family may not all have the same religious or political beliefs, but one thing we do agree on is that we’re Texan through and through.  I took issue with Lee’s depiction - and her cursory experience in middle America - and had to share my experience being a minority in the South.  Because what is the internet for but responding to other people’s writing?

There was an undercurrent of discomfort and anxiety during Lee’s family trip through the South, whereas I have very seldom ever felt unsafe while living in and traveling through the South.  Or New York City for that matter.  But maybe the reason is that when you’re accustomed to a place - a city or neighborhood or state - what is unfamiliar is unnerving or even frightening.  When you don’t know what to expect and if you’re accustomed to a certain behavior, anything outside of that can put you on the defense.

I am very conscientious that I look different than the vast majority of the population in the South.  But because I don’t look the same does not mean I don’t share things in common with them.  Lee references knives (of the non-kitchen variety) four separate times in her essay, perhaps perplexed at who would buy them and what they would use them for.  I carry a knife; there’s actually one in a pocket of each bag I own.  They’re not for protection but rather because it’s extremely handy to have a sharp edge on you - to open boxes, cut through rope, etc (you horse people know what I’m talking about).

Yes, in the South, you’ll see billboards / signs / bumper stickers that proudly declare a certain sort of religious or political beliefs.  You may see confederate flags (which I’ve seen all the way up in Michigan).  You’ll also see rainbow flags, stick figure families, Hello Kitty faces, and crawling Christian fish symbols with legs.

What Lee may have forgotten to mention is how friendly people are in the South.  How they open doors, pull out chairs, say excuse me and please and thank you and goodbye.  How some people who are members of the NRA and subscribe to American Rifleman have been hunting, fishing, gardening, and literally living off the land in this country - the parts of America that you’ve never seen before - for generations and are some of the strongest conservationists for the natural lands that I’ve ever met.  They reuse, recycle, reduce because it’s how they get by, making things last.

This land o’ mine is America.  Not Trump’s America, just another part of America that you may not have seen before.  It’s always been there; it isn’t new.  NYC is also America.  It’s a unique part of America - sure, there are a lot of people who live there but not everyone in the country wants to be a New Yorker or live in a place like NYC.  

Maybe what this post is is not a rebuttal but an invitation to others who feel or think like Lee.  Come to the South.  Meet and talk to the people openly and reserving judgment.  I know I, for one, would love to have you and share all of the wonderful things about this place that is my home.

And all of a sudden, Mae’s been with us for half a year.

Lately I’ve been missing from the blogging world because work, work, and work travel.  Work took me to Paris and London last week, just in time for the hottest days this year, which is a wonderful change from their typical chilly, breezy weather.  But let’s talk about that later and talk horses first.


We’ve had our turnout at the barn reduced because they added a new trainer this summer and bring all of her horses and clients.  Now the number of turnout paddocks we have are proportionate to how many horses each trainer has in her program.  As a result, none of our horses go out alone, and my trainer has tried to pair Mae with each of the horses under her program, only to have poor Maeby bullied by each of them.  She’s the youngest of the group by far and chases each of the horses around the paddock to “play.”  They quickly tire of her antics and bite her until she leaves them alone.  The only horse tolerant and patient enough for her is our 19 year old pony, so it’s with him that she goes out during the day and night.

My vet also injected her hocks last week, while I was out of town.  When I came back this weekend, I turned her out in the big outdoor arena and let her run (does she run!) and stretch her legs (I’m going to have to grab video of this some day because it’s awesome to watch).  Little did I know that she was supposed to be limited to walking for the four days after her injections - whoops!  Hopefully that wasn’t a waste of $500.  The vet said that she’s looking really good and we’re doing a fine job putting weight on her slowly.  She’s still standing taller at her hips, and he said that she’s likely to grow taller, even though she’s only five.  He suspects that her lack of nutrition stunted her growth and now that she has proper nutrition, her body is finally catching up.  Mae has a fungus growing on her back shins and also weird skin dander showing up on her back.  I’m treating them both with Microtek - I spray that stuff on everything.  It doesn’t seem to bother her and does seem to soothe her skin.  Ahh the joys of summer, right?

During June, I also had my first jump lesson with Mae, where we worked on jumping a single line.  She’s exactly what you would expect from a green horse, and slow and steady is the name of the game.  She jumps with one foot at a time, maybe two if we’re lucky.  Our first lesson, we went up to over 18 inches, and she didn’t give the fences a second look.  My favourite thing about jumping with her is how steady and calm her trot / canter is on the back side.  Ryon would get energized and excited after each jump and look to rush to the next fence.  Not so with Mae (I’m not sure she knows what to expect next to be honest) and it feels like a much saner ride.  B took some video from that lesson, which I’ve included below.  Don't mind my awkward t-rex style hand positioning; I'm trying to stay out of her face.


On a June goal update, I used hydrophane in around five coats on my jump saddle, which was pretty faded.  As you can see from the before and after pictures, the hydrophane helped but not as much as I thought it would.  I may take it home again and apply a few more coats each month and hopefully that’ll help bring it back to a more even colour.

Before

After

Also, I had one inquiry from a girl who wants to lease Ryon.  I’m putting together a lessee application for her and her parents but I’m optimistic that it works out.  She sounds like she really wants a buddy to just hang out with, which he’d be perfect for.


Mae’s July Goals

Continue to seek contact

Jump chute training

Rooth’s July Goals

Work on outside rein cues

Continue lessons

Even if you aren’t looking for it, there’s plenty of magic in Michigan, aka America’s high five / the mitten state.  Whereas it’s been uncomfortably warm for over a month in Texas already, Michigan is just now seeing the beginning of summer.  Green shoots are starting peek out from freshly planted fields, and flowerbeds are newly blossoming for the first time this year.  The day stays light out until around 9:30 pm, and you can actually sit outside in the sun without roasting your skin off.  We had the most perfect weather while we were there - mid 70s to 80 degrees and slightly cooler nights.


 Last summer, we visited B’s parents on the east side of the state and made a short trip to Sleeping Bear Dunes and the wineries in the northwest portion of the state.  This year, we flew into the west side of the state and stayed in Grand Rapids.  We rented a car and a chic little airbnb and spent some time exploring the city.  We were able to squeeze in a few visits with B’s friends and family before heading off the grid for B’s brother’s wedding in Cadillac, where the bride and groom were married at a rustic ski resort in the national forest.  Zero wifi, zero cell phone connection, 100% peace and quiet.  Except for the whole family wedding thing.


However, even with a wedding thrown in the middle of it all, a trip to Michigan isn’t complete without a visit to Lake Michigan, which means sinking your bare toes into the warm sand and trying not to shiver when you dip your toes in the water.  Michigan is tiny compared to Texas.  It only took an hour for us to drive to the coast from Grand Rapids.  The iconic Grand Haven lighthouse and pier that we went to see were under renovation, so we peered at it through the chain-link fence and then rescued a poor lady who fell into the rocks surrounding the pier and couldn’t get up.

And because it’s Michigan, our trip was abound with creatures.  There were more dead deer along the side of the road than I’ve ever seen, and we even caught glimpses of a few live ones wandering around.  B’s friend had recently bought some baby goats for pasture management, so we made a special trip out to visit Jimmy and Jeffrey and their equine companions Apollo and Diesel.  During our afternoon at a brewery in Rockford, an unescorted neighborhood dog stopped by each of the tables to be pet by all of the patrons.  And a stopover by a small neighborhood lake was punctuated by a pair of gigantic mute swans and their baby, gliding amongst the lily pads.

The wedding was, as most weddings are, chaotic but fun.  B’s best man speech was a massive hit and had the entire crowd rolling with laughter.  He has three (!) other weddings in the Midwest this year and chances are that we won’t hit most of them.  But if you haven’t had a chance to visit the Midwest, I wholeheartedly recommend the summer season and spending some time out on or by the water.

Progress!

First things first, I have to brag a little bit about the progress that we’ve made over the last few months.  The side by side picture is Mae, last week, on the left, and then Mae, in the beginning of April, on the right.  Notice how much better (also relaxed) she looks, especially along her back and her rear!

Besides the fakery lameness that we experienced last week, I’m really happy about where we’ve come this past month.

My favourite thing about Mae now is that she utterly enjoys being doted upon.  One of my fellow OTTB owners at the barn reminded me that as racehorses, although they were used to being handled, they are not used to being pampered and loved on.  Over the last month, as it’s gotten hotter, Mae is slowly enjoying her weekly baths more and more, particularly the neck massages and scratching around her ears.  She’s flinching less and less at pats on her head, neck, and back.  People = treats and good feelings, and that’s 100% the association that I want her to have.

Under saddle, Mae is muscling up and carrying herself in a more balanced and consistent fashion.  Oddly enough, it’s been remarked that she’s one of those horses who looks bigger with a rider than without.  She gets tired more quickly than my energizer bunny Ryon but, on the flip side, has very smooth gaits.  “You can balance a wine glass on her at the canter” was the feedback from one of my fellow riders.  Even though she has auto changes, we have gotten it to where she picks up the correct lead both directions at the canter depart.  Mae feels more confident when she’s in the arena with a “buddy” horse than by herself.  She is also more well behaved the more tired she is.  I’m still itching to take her out on the trail, but she’ll need a few trail friends as well as some desensitization before we do that.

She and I haven’t been jumping since her ulcer upset, but my trainer has started working her through low courses and teaching her the basics of form and how to use her body.  I can’t wait to challenge this mare and see how she does with it.  She’s got a good mind (stubborn but willing), and her body and health are finally in the right place.

I’ve made our goals a little more lengthy for June to include my horse-related goals as well.  I’ve been on a break from lessons basically all spring, and I’m ready to start working more regularly on Mae with my trainer.


Mae’s June Goals

Build endurance (particularly in the heat)

Continue to work on intro to jumping

Continue desensitization


Rooth’s June Goals

Resume weekly lessons (we’ll see how long this lasts without work getting in the way again)

Darken saddle

Jumping with Mae

Lease out Ryon (here’s his ad on Dreamhorse if you’re interested!)

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Mae was the tiniest bit off when I rode her on Tuesday.  She was steady as a rock at the walk, but at the trot, she was a half beat behind - barely notable but I’ve been able to tell when she’s been off before (see swollen front left leg, 4x normal size).  She has/had gotten to the place where her trot was more balanced and consistent, but her trot on Tuesday was wobbly and punctuated with the occasional small head bob.  Her feet felt fine and looked, and there was no swelling or heat emanating from her legs or feet.  I was concerned but not overly so and resolved to keep an eye on it.

On Wednesday evening, I trotted her by hand on concrete, and there was noticeable head bobbing at every step, even though she was more or less still steady at the walk.  She was very off kilter when I rode her at the trot, and I didn’t even attempt to pick up a canter.  My trainer has been in Florida and was getting back in town that night, so I texted her what I had noticed.  She had ridden Mae on Monday and she was completely sound then.  Mae also had the farrier come last week, and he mentioned that her hocks and stifles were sore but none of those things would cause a limp.

I’m sure some of you are familiar with the frustration and anxiety of a health problem that has no visible cause.  This week, I finally received her latest vet bill from her last ulcer / abscess treatment, and she’s only barely been on the rebound from that.  An anxious mind like mine is running wildly - maybe it’s nothing serious and she only pulled something while messing about in the turnout.  Maybe it’s a stone bruise.  Or maybe she has navicular.  The only thing I can do at this point is sit and wait and also anxiously glance at my phone.  Is the vet going to get called out today?  Is she feeling better and perfectly sound?  Has her leg just fallen off at this point?  The anticipation is always a killer.

Horse ownership is a bumpy ride.  Having Ryon sidelined by a degenerative condition after a year of treatment was my first step into realization that things oftentimes swerve despite the best care and planning.  In 2017 I was introduced to a whole new set of horse-related health issues with Mae.  I’m quite ready for the upswing on the health pendulum (who isn’t?).  Like I’ve said too many times to count, fingers crossed.