Once upon a time…

I played in a rock band…

and we got to play with cool bands like Fair Verona, L7, Rusted Root, Avec, Killjoy Confetti, and Perfect Nothing.

Some days I miss it. That’s all.

Once upon a time…

I played in a rock band…

and we got to play with cool bands like Fair Verona, L7, Rusted Root, Avec, Killjoy Confetti, and Perfect Nothing.

Some days I miss it. That’s all.

What I learned from Roller Derby…

My body is capable of way more than I ever thought it was.

Lately we’ve been upping our game. Our core is getting more intense than ever. Yesterday during a plank, I felt like my abs were tearing, my shoulders were burning, and there was absolutely no way I could possibly hold it for another second.
But I did. And then another, and another, and another…

It’s been that way for the past few months. Our coaches ask the impossible from our bodies, and our bodies surprise us by doing what is asked. I would never know what I’m capable of on my own. When I work out on my own, I do my reps, I follow what I “think” I should be doing. When I work out for derby, I do exercises that I would never attempt, reps and lengths that seem way out of my capabilities.
Only they aren’t out of my capability at all! Except I would never know that without this sport. It’s pushing me to give more and be better, for myself and my team.

Now if only my coaches could scream that final 10lbs off my body…

What I learned from Roller Derby…

My body is capable of way more than I ever thought it was.

Lately we’ve been upping our game. Our core is getting more intense than ever. Yesterday during a plank, I felt like my abs were tearing, my shoulders were burning, and there was absolutely no way I could possibly hold it for another second.
But I did. And then another, and another, and another…

It’s been that way for the past few months. Our coaches ask the impossible from our bodies, and our bodies surprise us by doing what is asked. I would never know what I’m capable of on my own. When I work out on my own, I do my reps, I follow what I “think” I should be doing. When I work out for derby, I do exercises that I would never attempt, reps and lengths that seem way out of my capabilities.
Only they aren’t out of my capability at all! Except I would never know that without this sport. It’s pushing me to give more and be better, for myself and my team.

Now if only my coaches could scream that final 10lbs off my body…

Spinning!

I spun some cool stuff!

Some blue and purple. I dyed the fiber then spun it.

Some green I dyed with Kool Aid

Some pink I dyed with kool aid and acid dye mixed together

Some very cool multi colored yarn! I purchased this fiber from THIS etsy shop, one of my faves!

Speaking of which, Rachel and I reopened our etsy in anticipation of the Handiecraft festival next weekend.
It’s still a little bare bones right now, but in a few weeks it’ll be filled with all sorts of cool things!

Spinning!

I spun some cool stuff!

Some blue and purple. I dyed the fiber then spun it.

Some green I dyed with Kool Aid

Some pink I dyed with kool aid and acid dye mixed together

Some very cool multi colored yarn! I purchased this fiber from THIS etsy shop, one of my faves!

Speaking of which, Rachel and I reopened our etsy in anticipation of the Handiecraft festival next weekend.
It’s still a little bare bones right now, but in a few weeks it’ll be filled with all sorts of cool things!

Meet the kids… Starkey.

The second installment of meet my animals!
Lots of my animals were saved from bad situations. Not the case with Starkey. I didn’t save Starkey, Starkey saved me.

I had wanted a horse since I knew what a horse was. I loved them. I begged my Mom for riding lessons, a horse, to drive me the long way home so I could catch a glimpse out the car window at a farm with horses. I read every book there ever was about horses. Practical guides, stories… it didn’t matter. If it had a horse on it, I wanted it.

Then when I was 12 years old, I did something really, really stupid. I didn’t put my seat belt on in a car. It wasn’t the law back then, but my Mom usually made me do it anyway. It was late at night, and she didn’t check to make sure I had, so feeling like I was getting away with something I didn’t buckle up. My brother did, my Mom did, and my Dad did.
The result being, when an uninsured motorist with a borrowed license plate hopped over several lanes of traffic and hit us, I was the only one injured. All of my injuries were located in my face, causing some pretty heavy duty scarring, bone damage, etc.
What does this have to do with a mini horse you ask?

Here’s the thing. When a 12 year old girl, in a very small town, hits junior high with those kind of injuries, the results are not kind. It wasn’t a simple matter of healing for a summer either. I had done some major damage to my face. It took YEARS of surgery. Since I was so young they had to wait sometimes before doing a procedure to see how my bones were going to grow.

So we got Starkey. When I got called “scar face” on the bus, or told that my face was “scary” by younger kids, I would run home and cry into Starkey’s mane. At a time when my confidence was rock bottom, I would work with my horse and gain confidence based on his progress working with me. Having a horse was absolutely a salvation for me back then. He depended on me so I kept pushing through the pain after a surgery to feed and walk him, or the depression that having a messed up face can cause a teenage girl.

When the neighbors complained and we couldn’t keep him in our neighborhood anymore I worked my butt off mucking stalls, washing horses, whatever it took for me to afford to board him. In college I had a wonderful co-op situation with other horse people, then when I moved here I of course, took Starky with me.
He’s an expense I can’t afford and has absolutely no practical use. I don’t care. He’s my horse, he saved me during the worst years of my life, and I love him to pieces.

The scars on my face aren’t as visible now as they used to be, thanks to lots and lots of cosmetic surgery in my teens. You can still tell that “something happened” and my nose doesn’t look like what I think it should look like, nor does my chin or upper lip.

It never mattered to Starkey though. I could hobble out to him fresh from the operating table, and he would give me the same happy whinny that he gives me now that I look “normal”. Yea, I wish I had a big horse to ride but I could never, ever get rid of Starkey.

Meet the kids… Starkey.

The second installment of meet my animals!
Lots of my animals were saved from bad situations. Not the case with Starkey. I didn’t save Starkey, Starkey saved me.

I had wanted a horse since I knew what a horse was. I loved them. I begged my Mom for riding lessons, a horse, to drive me the long way home so I could catch a glimpse out the car window at a farm with horses. I read every book there ever was about horses. Practical guides, stories… it didn’t matter. If it had a horse on it, I wanted it.

Then when I was 12 years old, I did something really, really stupid. I didn’t put my seat belt on in a car. It wasn’t the law back then, but my Mom usually made me do it anyway. It was late at night, and she didn’t check to make sure I had, so feeling like I was getting away with something I didn’t buckle up. My brother did, my Mom did, and my Dad did.
The result being, when an uninsured motorist with a borrowed license plate hopped over several lanes of traffic and hit us, I was the only one injured. All of my injuries were located in my face, causing some pretty heavy duty scarring, bone damage, etc.
What does this have to do with a mini horse you ask?

Here’s the thing. When a 12 year old girl, in a very small town, hits junior high with those kind of injuries, the results are not kind. It wasn’t a simple matter of healing for a summer either. I had done some major damage to my face. It took YEARS of surgery. Since I was so young they had to wait sometimes before doing a procedure to see how my bones were going to grow.

So we got Starkey. When I got called “scar face” on the bus, or told that my face was “scary” by younger kids, I would run home and cry into Starkey’s mane. At a time when my confidence was rock bottom, I would work with my horse and gain confidence based on his progress working with me. Having a horse was absolutely a salvation for me back then. He depended on me so I kept pushing through the pain after a surgery to feed and walk him, or the depression that having a messed up face can cause a teenage girl.

When the neighbors complained and we couldn’t keep him in our neighborhood anymore I worked my butt off mucking stalls, washing horses, whatever it took for me to afford to board him. In college I had a wonderful co-op situation with other horse people, then when I moved here I of course, took Starky with me.
He’s an expense I can’t afford and has absolutely no practical use. I don’t care. He’s my horse, he saved me during the worst years of my life, and I love him to pieces.

The scars on my face aren’t as visible now as they used to be, thanks to lots and lots of cosmetic surgery in my teens. You can still tell that “something happened” and my nose doesn’t look like what I think it should look like, nor does my chin or upper lip.

It never mattered to Starkey though. I could hobble out to him fresh from the operating table, and he would give me the same happy whinny that he gives me now that I look “normal”. Yea, I wish I had a big horse to ride but I could never, ever get rid of Starkey.

The Epic Llama and Mini Move!

A month or so ago, a coffee shop customer offered to board my llama and mini. The downside? I wouldn’t get as much riding time. The upside? He lives about a block from the shop. So instead of a 30-40 minute drive to see my critters, it would be a 5 minute drive.
More mini and llama time!
Decided to go for the move… but now we had to find a trailer! Had one person offer me the use of theirs, which turned out to be a 20 foot cow trailer. Um, bit much for our truck, and for the llama and mini. The woman who owns the dog groomers next door to us told us to swing by and borrow hers. So we set everything up for the big move, drove about 30 minutes to go get her trailer and… it set too high for our truck hitch!
The sensible thing at this point would have been to cancel the move for the day, regroup, find another trailer and try another day.
HOWEVER, I am me. When I have a PLAN, the plan happens. So a few phone calls and texts later I wrangled up another trailer, and we were off again.
Drove out to the barn, grabbed Flippy, tied him up, loaded up my cart, harness, tracked down the odds and ends of my things that tend to get “borrowed” by other boarders, grabbed Starkey and loaded him in the trailer.
Then Starkey had an EPIC FREAK OUT! Took me a few seconds to realize why; there was a wasps nest right next to his head!. Untied him, hurried him out of the trailer, had Dill go in with his shoe and take care of wasp nest.
At this point, Starkey was like, “hell no I’m not going back in there! No way!” So my normally easy to load mini planted his hooves and refused to budge. I made a “butt rope” swung it around his back end, gave him a little tug, and in he went.
Hot, sweaty, and already worn out, I then turned to Flippy to load him. Flippy was not having it. Butt rope didn’t matter, he spit, made crazy llama noises, and flat out refused to get in the trailer.
20 minutes of struggle, and we were ready to just leave his furry llama butt behind! Then I had a brainstorm. Grabbed a bucket of grain shook it through the window of the trailer, and in Flippy went!
The answer to any llama training question is food. Always.

Drove them to the new digs, where they hopped and skipped around, and made friends with the resident mini, Cheesecake.


Flippy seemed really content to eat all those wonderful tree leaves.

Cheesecake and Starkey are getting along fine!

Neighborhood children were delighted, as they had never seen a llama before.

Then of course, being an EPIC day, the customer who owned the property had to dash off when his son broke his arm in three places.
It was that kind of day for everyone I suppose.

But the animals are safe and sound, child is in a cool cast and has three pins in his arm, and neighborhood children are lining the fence staring in awe at the llama. (they’re used to the mini horse thing by now)
Next week I am starting my portly mini on a driving training program, since I had not realized how *ahem* PADDED he had become over the winter! Which will be much easier now that he is closer! (Wonder if I can drive my mini to work at the coffee shop???)

The Epic Llama and Mini Move!

A month or so ago, a coffee shop customer offered to board my llama and mini. The downside? I wouldn’t get as much riding time. The upside? He lives about a block from the shop. So instead of a 30-40 minute drive to see my critters, it would be a 5 minute drive.
More mini and llama time!
Decided to go for the move… but now we had to find a trailer! Had one person offer me the use of theirs, which turned out to be a 20 foot cow trailer. Um, bit much for our truck, and for the llama and mini. The woman who owns the dog groomers next door to us told us to swing by and borrow hers. So we set everything up for the big move, drove about 30 minutes to go get her trailer and… it set too high for our truck hitch!
The sensible thing at this point would have been to cancel the move for the day, regroup, find another trailer and try another day.
HOWEVER, I am me. When I have a PLAN, the plan happens. So a few phone calls and texts later I wrangled up another trailer, and we were off again.
Drove out to the barn, grabbed Flippy, tied him up, loaded up my cart, harness, tracked down the odds and ends of my things that tend to get “borrowed” by other boarders, grabbed Starkey and loaded him in the trailer.
Then Starkey had an EPIC FREAK OUT! Took me a few seconds to realize why; there was a wasps nest right next to his head!. Untied him, hurried him out of the trailer, had Dill go in with his shoe and take care of wasp nest.
At this point, Starkey was like, “hell no I’m not going back in there! No way!” So my normally easy to load mini planted his hooves and refused to budge. I made a “butt rope” swung it around his back end, gave him a little tug, and in he went.
Hot, sweaty, and already worn out, I then turned to Flippy to load him. Flippy was not having it. Butt rope didn’t matter, he spit, made crazy llama noises, and flat out refused to get in the trailer.
20 minutes of struggle, and we were ready to just leave his furry llama butt behind! Then I had a brainstorm. Grabbed a bucket of grain shook it through the window of the trailer, and in Flippy went!
The answer to any llama training question is food. Always.

Drove them to the new digs, where they hopped and skipped around, and made friends with the resident mini, Cheesecake.


Flippy seemed really content to eat all those wonderful tree leaves.

Cheesecake and Starkey are getting along fine!

Neighborhood children were delighted, as they had never seen a llama before.

Then of course, being an EPIC day, the customer who owned the property had to dash off when his son broke his arm in three places.
It was that kind of day for everyone I suppose.

But the animals are safe and sound, child is in a cool cast and has three pins in his arm, and neighborhood children are lining the fence staring in awe at the llama. (they’re used to the mini horse thing by now)
Next week I am starting my portly mini on a driving training program, since I had not realized how *ahem* PADDED he had become over the winter! Which will be much easier now that he is closer! (Wonder if I can drive my mini to work at the coffee shop???)