Taking a Short Break

Hi guys,

It’s been a long week.

For those of you who understand, I went up to visit Bunnygal and her horses this past weekend, and not even being around their sweet scent revived me.

Usually just being around the horses puts a spring back in my step. This time the only time I felt connected to them is when Cotton, who is growing heavy with foal, laid down to take a nap in a soft spot.

I was leaning against the rails of her stall, aimlessly watching her stamp flies and blow hay dust out of her nose when she collapsed with a suddenness that alarmed me (colic? Is she colicking?!). After crashing to the ground with a grunt, she stretched out slowly and ponderously in her stall with a deep, deep, drawn-out groan. Her swollen sides jutted into the air, and she scratched her neck in pleasure against the grainy sand with a few rhythmic grunts, clearly pleased to be off her feet. Her stubby legs paddled slightly, stiffening in a deep stretch.

Finally, for the grand finale, she heaved a monstrously loud sigh, and shut her eyes.

I stared down at my own monstrously jutting stomach, straightened my back painfully, and realized she had the right idea.

So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking a break.

I took Bad Max out on a long walk yesterday while my mom watched the DragonMonkey. I didn’t realize until I did so that this was the first bit of alone time I had had in weeks, or maybe months. I’ve left the DragonMonkey with The Bean to run around and do chores, but that’s not quite the same.

Thanks to the time change, it was long-since night when I left the house. The crescent moon was high above the horizon and the riverbed was the only place I could think of that might have some peace, so I waddled up and down the deserted, empty stretch for awhile. I sat on the rocks lining the jetty and squinted my eyes, pretending that I was high on a mountain, and that the sound of the distant traffic was really wind in the trees.

Eventually, my butt got sore so I had to return to reality.

I was strangely unwilling to return to the house, so I hobbled my way through the dark night to a nearby park. I found a darkened crevice at the bottom of one of the hills and lay down on the grass. Max leaned heavily against my back, both out of a desire for warmth and for reassurance. Poor guy – he’s an indoor city dog, through and through. All this “outdoor” stuff had left him unnerved.

I shut my eyes and listened to the actual sound of wind in the trees, and did my best to pretend that the traffic sounds were now waves crashing on a nearby shore. Eventually I was able to tune it out, even the hum of the heavy power lines stretching above my head.

It was dark. It was cold. It was just the right amount of windy, with the chilly gusts licking at my cheeks and loosened, flyaway hairs.. My dog was quietly watchful, warming me, a solid weight against the curve of my back. The scent of the grass filled my nose, and something about the sturdy feel of the earth directly beneath my cheek steadied me.

I felt better. Maybe not healed, but better.

It felt like the right thing to do, so I am going to do it again. And again. The dog and I could use the exercise, and I know my soul could use the rest.

So, there you go. That’s my warning. I usually do my writing in the evenings, so I’m going to be neglectful of this blog for a bit. See you guys on the 23rd.

For the Record

#1: Writing when you don’t feel like writing sucks. Why couldn’t NaNoWriMo have started last week? Last week my muse was flowing. Last week I had stories shooting like rainbows out of my fingertips. Last week I could have written a novel in a couple of days.

This week?

This week all I want to do is go ride a horse. And I can’t. So that makes me grumpy. And when I’m grumpy, I don’t feel like writing. I’ve managed a few paragraphs, but each word feels like I’m pulling a tooth.

So I have been procrastinating…. and by procrastinating I mean I’ve been reading lots of books and watching Netflix.

And this brings me to point #2:

I would like to take whoever was responsible for casting the Lonesome Dove miniseries and give them a big, sloppy kiss.

Seriously— that has got to be one of the only movies where you can read the book and then watch the film and not be disappointed.

After I’m done smooching whoever they are, I’d like to take him/her by the hand and lead her over to my dog-eared copy of Outlander. Then I’d call up “Showtime” and let them know that I have the next all time award-winning series just waiting to be produced.

For those of you out there who have read the Outlander series, you know what I’m talking about. Wouldn’t that make the most incredible miniseries ever? It has to be done right, though. You need all the history, and all the bloody battle scenes, and all the passion for it to be done right…and there’s no way you could do that in a single movie. Miniseries. Showtime miniseries due to the graphic nature of the book. And Showtime miniseries with the casting headed up by whoever was responsible for Lonesome Dove, because whoever they are, they’re genius.

C’mon. You guys know I’m on to something good here.

Sigh. And now back to something bad… I’m coming, NaNoWriMo. I’m coming.

Stupid non-horse book obligation… grumble, grumble… I’d rather be riding one of Bunnygal’s horses… grumble, grumble….