Horse Poop

I am currently at a beautiful, serene place of peace in my journey as Husband’s wife.

And it is marvelous.

I don’t know how I arrived at this place, other than the fact that I have been slogging through the muckier parts of this path for the greater part of three years now, and that maybe, just maybe, we have made some progress.

There was the story that my brother told me about a boy who asked for a pony for Christmas, and when he was shown to a horse stall filled with horse dung, he got really excited and began shoveling.  When asked why he was so happy about a pile of horse poop, he exclaimed, “with all this poop, there’s got to be a horse in here somewhere!”

Our marriage has kind of been a stall full of equine excrement.  But for some reason, through all of the dark hopelessness, I picked up the shovel and didn’t put it down.  And now what do we have?

Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say we have a space at Churchill downs or anything. . .

But it’s not like the past years have been all horse poop.  Quite the contrary, actually.  Husband and I like to bring up the fact that as long as we don’t delve into anything too deep, we are completely golden.  And by golden, I mean bedazzled- sparkly- glittery- awesomeness.  But only if we don’t scratch that delicate exterior.  Once those rhinestones start to fall off, we are history and the world is a very dark and cold place.

But this week I feel like I am his and he is mine.  And that feeling has been quite missing for quite some time.  And I am quite happy to welcome it back.

____________________________________________

On a quite different note, I simply MUST send a shout-out to my dear dear friends, and show the world what magical things can happen when you blog:

Husband, Miles, Me, Jon. 

(Sorry for the blur, but this was the only pic that caught the crocheted beards AND the gnome socks.  And who can argue with gnome socks?!?)

As crazy as this universe is, it chose to throw out an opportunity for Husband and I to meet up in Northern Utah with these two fine blokes who we met, where else?  On the blogosphere.  Two finer gentlemen I would defy you to find.  Anywhere.  We were part of a Ragnar team (192 mile relay run by a 12 person team overnight- sharing two small vans and sleeping on high school gym floors.  heaven.) and as such got to know each other on a very intimate scale.  I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to look Jon in the eyes again.  Ever.

It was amazing and wonderful and transcendent and everything you wouldn’t expect such a crazy scheme to be.

Miles is now in the middle of a six week trip to work in an AIDS orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  He left the day after the race.  I am constantly in awe of him, and why on EARTH he would want to continue to be my friend.  I count him as one of my greatest blessings.

While cleverly disguised as a pencil pusher in a mind-numbingly dull job by day, Jon is a soon-to-be famous documentarian.  Look for him headlining at Sundance 2013.  (which is a story for another post)  Jon is THE voice of reason.  The calming hand of steadiness amidst the storms of my insanity.  Even though he has most likely lost every shred of respect for me that he may or may not have had.

Even though my blogging days have taken a very large step to the rear of my life, I am still reaping the benefits of all of those sleepless nights spent tap-tap-tapping away at my keyboard.  You know what they say about planting seeds. . .

Goodnight.

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7 thoughts on “Horse Poop

  1. Well I’m certainly glad you still get on here and blog. 🙂 We never would have had that chance meeting if it wasn’t for your “planting seeds”. What a memorable experience. Great socks btw. 🙂

    • I am certainly glad for our chance meeting as well. What else could possibly top the opportunity to make O-mo blush profusely? And well, the “seed” thing is right up your alley, being the horticulturist you are, and all. . .
      (I have extra socks if you’re interested. . .)

      • Ha ha. Yes, so true! Gotta love those seeds. As for the socks. I could definitely use a pair of red striped socks. They would go well with my where’s waldo outfit. 🙂

  2. Well if anything, this gives me hope. I know exactly what you mean about scratching the delicate exterior. I’ve been having rare pockets of time where if I don’t move, don’t say anything, we are back to “normal.” I keep trying to make those times last longer and longer but inevitably there is some scratchy something that pops up. Maybe with practice we will find a balance. This is still so new I don’t know if we are really going to make it. Everything I’ve ever known is different now and I’m desperately trying to find something solid to grab onto so I don’t sink. Maybe I’ll find it. Been looking for more “wife blogs.” Any suggestions?

  3. You go girl! Hang in there. I’m married to Pa Kettle, and there is a long story about our marriage too. Life gave me lemons and since God knows I don’t like lemonade He’s spent the last 25 years teaching me how to make garnishes with the lemons. And laughing all the way!

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