The Makeup Behind It

Sometimes I like an image because of...

who is in it

its colors

my admiration of the activity

what it represents, the feeling behind it

the unexpected element, a shiny earring

My love of the day and the exact moment it was taken...

And sometimes?  Sometimes it's all of the above and the makeup behind it.    

Young Dreams

It was a chilly Friday night with no plans on the agenda, until Sister Pister came bounding through my front door in her cowboy boots on her way home from college.  Followed not too long after by another cowboy boot wearing girl named Megan.  Soon after, I sat in the corner of my couch surrounded by pillows with a glass of wine in my hand and the fire next to me and I listened.  Agenda made for me.   

I listened to my little sister and her friend excitedly make plans.  Plans for their next barrel racing adventure.  Plans for their weekend.  Plans for decorating a pumpkin for a contest.  Plans for the next horse to buy as they browsed through prospects.  Plans for where to live when life "begins."  Plans for what to do.  Plans for the big thing called life.  

I listened.  

I watched.  

Those two girls are balls of spirit and fire; they are unstoppable really and support each other as only best friends can.  All of those plans they discussed?  Absolutely attainable.  Right down to making Mike from Monsters Inc. as a pumpkin for the contest.  

That's the thing with being young.  

It's all there.  Waiting to be discovered...or maybe it's more of a waiting to be made thing.  Dreams are often not magically found, they are most likely painstakingly made.  

And I think these two get that.  They have put more work into their horses than most put into a career.  They have cried together and laughed together and pushed themselves through scary right on into fun.  They work.  They want.  They work for what they want.  

 

I had the privilege of offering up little bits of thirty year old wisdom to them, "Girls.  If you want something bad enough, figure out a plan and start freaking doing the plan.  One little step at a time."  

I also had the privilege to be reminded that my thirty year old self is not done.  I'm just getting going, more dreams to be made and more work to be put in.  More dreams to be made.  I am never done growing and learning.  Being around two more than energetic pips will do that to you, light a fire under you as you sit with a wine glass in your hand.  

When my friend Karen showed up to complete the this is a perfectly random and non-planned Friday evening, we sat and visited in much the same manner as our younger counterparts.  Girlfriends are life blood no matter the age.    

And I have to do this because I just do.  My little sister won two saddles at the North Dakota National Barrel Horse Association state finals.  She has worked so hard for the past four years.  It paid off before, in learning how to keep striving and in learning the tough lessons.  But it was so sweet to see it finally pay off in winnings for her.  I cried real actual tear drops when I received the final text from my mom in a day full of updates.  I ran to the other room and yelled, "She won two!"  Then Billy had a tear too.  Because his sports heart gets it. 

If there ever was a day when I was willing my little sister along with every ounce of my soul, it was that one. 

There are things I believe in.  Like holding a coffee mug with two hands and theme outfits for holidays and surprising little ones at their dance classes and talking to strangers and being ridiculous while traveling and packing snacks grandma style for road trips and the very best pictures are when kids have dirty faces.  One more has been added to my I believe list. 

I believe it might be more heart squeezing to see someone you deeply love achieve than to actually win yourself.  

Sister Pister.  I am so proud of you.  For winning the saddles yes...but more than that, I'm just freaking proud of every fiber of who you are.  

Keep dreaming and keep making.  



Nothing Like Some Parking Lot Sitting

A few minutes ago, I sat in my car in the parking lot of a frame shop and sat there, like for probably about nine minutes or so.  Didn't move.  It felt so good to just sit there and be for a spell.  

I believe I sat there like that in silence with nothing because I knew I wouldn't be able to just be when I returned home.  Because there's always something to do, and I'm not alone in feeling that.  I mean really, love a duck there's always something.  

And my wrists hurt something fierce this week.  I tried real hard to simply ignore it like the kid who won't stop blurting while I'm doing my teaching thing.  Ignored the twangs and pangs.  Now today they hurt so much I can't ignore.  I am fairly certain it's just over use or carpal tunnel or something of that nature from the many different jobs I'm rolling right now.  

All this is to say basically I'm old and falling apart and I sit in my car in the parking lot of a frame shop for nine minutes doing nothing.

But then on my way home, I started thinking about the concept of being busy and decided it's all very relative.  Busy is busy.  It's not going anywhere and mostly what I'm busy with are things I choose to do so I best take my sore wrists and throw them in the air to celebrate instead.  Celebrate the fact I am able to do many things.  Celebrate the fact people trust me to do things.  Celebrate the fact I am given the gift of having a new day every morning.  Celebrate the fact I am healthy.  Celebrate my friends and family who make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.  

Yes, throw my wrists in the air.  

Besides I've also realized this about busy...the more busy I am, the more little tiny fabulous quiet moments mean to me.  Like right now, writing this out quick with every lamp in my house on while thinking about the popcorn I will soon air pop to eat for dinner because I'm very much like a kid and given the opportunity I will do things like eat popcorn for dinner.  

Moments mean more in busy seasons of life, including the moments with my people at the farm on beautiful fall evenings.

They mean more and are not taken for granted when they are smashed in between busies. 

Those moments?  

Yeah those.  They get squeeze hugged.  Dirt on faces and all.     

The Same but Different

The Sunday of Labor Day weekend, Sister Pister and I went for a late afternoon ride.  It was the same as so many rides we have shared in the past.  My little sister thinking I'm mildly ridiculous for stopping us when something shiny or otherwise needing of attention catches my eye with my tendency to bounce around too much in the saddle while she yells at me, "Put your butt down!" 

It was also the same with her underestimating my horse-ness.  Which honestly is totally spot on because when it comes to all things neigh, my sister has me out done by miles.  "So Amy, do you think you can side pass him over here?" 

Yes I can.  Watch this.

And now smile dang it.

Riding with my little sister on a perfect sunny warm but with that twinge of chill in the air of a soon to be approaching fall afternoon was so very much the same as always.  We visited and laughed and meandered our way through the fields around the farm while the horses hooves swished through the amber stubble.  

But it was also very different.  Different because it was Sister Pister's first weekend home from college.  We had to plan our riding.  It wasn't like I could simply drive to the farm and know she'd be there; I had to schedule in a time.  Excuse me little sister, just so you know, you better always make time for me.  Thank you. 

Our relationship is morphing yet again.  As all real relationships do.  I get so excited to hear her talk about college; the dorms, the parties, the new friends, the rock climbing class, the homework, all of it really.  Because it reminds me how precious all of the different stages in our lives are.  Reminds me it's all fleeting.  The feelings of never thinking you'll feel quite at home in a new city, the feelings of not having your people nearby, the feelings of what do I do with my life?  They, just like any emotion brought about by a stage change, are gone almost as fast as they came rushing in.   

And then comes the next phase of well now whats?  The next phase of finding our way in the new. 

What I'm learning about myself is I grow the most during the beginning pushing of life stage changing.

I don't want to go so far as to say I crave that kind of uncertainty and unabsoluteness, but there is a strong sense of empowerment which always follows the getting through and that makes me want.  

Makes me want to be always checking in with myself and never becoming complacent with my day to day.  Makes me want to learn new things and meet new people and discover new places and stretch my legs, arms, and wings.  

Right now, I can tell I'm on the verge of my next phase change.  It's there.  Tugging at me.  How it will exactly all play out is not for me to say.  But I do know this for sure.  I'll roll along with it and try my hardest to not use fear as an excuse.  And the things that make me...well me, will stay as carry on luggage for whatever the journey is.     

The other night, my mom and I were picking in the garden in the crisp air.  My phone made it's ding and I looked down to see a text from my sister, "I was nominated to the homecoming planning committee!"  I yelled to Momma Debi to tell her and then proceeded to have a quick conversation with my sister exclaiming my happiness for her and telling her to "get out there and do her thing and thank you for telling me!"  Her reply was, "You're the only person who would get as excited as me."  Because she knows.  She knows no matter what phase or stage or level of adult I'm in...

Homecoming will always get me.  

As will being in the garden with my mom.

As will walking into the kitchen to see my dad taking the time to cut up enough squash to make a plain batch for me, sans butter and brown sugar.

As will observing my nieces and nephews' shenanigans while Sil tries to get them in the car to leave; I laugh at that kind of thing.  To the point of tears rolling laugh.   

As will my sister-in-law looking at me through the glass and then rolling it down to say, "Just you wait!  Someday it will be me laughing!"   

As will afternoon rides with my little sister ending with a slobbery hand of horse goo.   

Stop for the Big Cow

Do you want to know how you can tell if you have real friends?  Besides tapping them to make sure they are there.  You ask them this, "Do you think we could stop by New Salem to catch some of Sister Pister's last high school rodeo?" 

And you make sure you ask it after spending over fifteen hours in a car together in a two day span.

Because when they say yes to such an inquiry, you know they are real friends.  Turning a little something something that's important to you into something that it is also worth their time. 

So we stopped.  Stopped in the town of the big cow to catch Sister Pister's pole bending run; her last event of the day.  What I didn't know is we also stopped so Danae could experience her first rodeo in awhile.  She was entertaining to say the least.  I dare say she might have actually enjoyed herself despite her fear of large animals.  Well, really her fear of all animals.  But that's a story for another day.     

Momma Debi has spent many a hour at rodeo grounds across the state in the last four years.  High school rodeo season is in the spring and the fall which made for a rare occasion when Dad-o could attend.  Those are the crazy busy times for farming.  The go times.  Momma Debi is the kind of mom though that will drive and ride across the state so her daughter can do what she loves.  Let me explain further...one time she bought me a vacuum for my sixteenth birthday.  She's all about encouraging her kids' passions.   

I've attended a few rodeos along the way; it's just not always easy for me to sit and wait and sit and wait.  I'd rather be vacuuming or something.  But I sure do love to watch my sister do her thing.  If only the rodeo was filled with contestants I knew.  Then I'd be set. 

Because when it's people I know, I tend to be able to pay attention.  Like I watched Sister Pister's boyfriend named Hayes and his very own little sister compete in team roping.  It was just one more nudge of how much of a good human Hayes is; he can be on a team with his little sister.  I think back to when Brother and I were in high school and I am not entirely sure we could have tolerated each other in a competition setting.  Fixing fence was enough of an adventure in itself I tell you.   

Maybe my siblings and I follow our own beats.  Mmmhm, that's probably it.  Take for instance I forced Sister Pister to stand in the middle of the road at one of her high school rodeos and point to the big cow.   

Then I had to remind Hayes of how I roll.  Which is what I refer to as my camera face look.  He's starting to adjust.  Soon I will have donkey kicking.   

You ride with my sister to rodeos?  Be ready to smile while you get your horse ready then.  She was a sport about it.   

Sister Pister, however, has become so accustomed she simply ignores me.  I tell myself it's only because of the camera. 

Yes, she pretends I don't exist until I yell, "Look at me!"  

Or until I say, "Do that again.  Adjust your belt again.  I missed it."  She really loves that kind of business when she is trying to get her horse ready.

Right back to ignoring she goes.  Ignoring with some participation of the let's make fun of Amy game which was occuring from the peanut gallery of friends.   

I decided to leave those three to their laughter and popped over to the next trailer and said, "You're Hayes's sister and I'm Em's sister and my name is Amy and now stand there and smile with your brother.  Come on.  It will be cute." 

Belt issues.  You can not have belt issues while pole bending.  I just made that up but it sounds legitimate right? 

After all adjustments on Sister Pister's part and nerdy jokes on my part, she was off for the races.  Now that's exactly the kind of nerdy statement which would cause an eye roll from my sister.  But she has in the very least accepted how I am.  Next up is appreciation.  We're working on that one.  

The dirt chunks flew for the next twenty three seconds.   

Her hat flew too. 

Have I ever told you that Sister Pister is a better rider than me?  I'm sure I have somewhere along the way in my statements of the obvious.   

Here are a few of my favorite things.  Lip gloss, green grass, pictures with no hooves on the ground while a horse is running, sixteen bracelets at one time, stickie notes, grapes, coffee, the smell of laundry detergent, glitter clothespins, and chopping vegetables.    

Here are a few of my not favorite things.  Snakes, worms, cutting off a horse's hooves in a whoa picture, cleaning the shower drain, cats, hairy armpits, not talking, the smell of rotten potatoes, the look of rotten potatoes, voicemails, and snow banks.       

Back to favorites now.  Having real friends who will stop with you to take in your little sister's last high school rodeo pole bending run.  Having a little sister who is a gem.  Having a Momma Debi.  Having a sunny day with a blue sky.  Having a sister's boyfriend who is a good human.  Having my camera face.  Having music to listen to and friends to visit with to make it through the rest of the road trip home.