Songs Of Peace

Most of my friends know me as a person who lives in britches or jeans and her trusted, well worn, Ariat boots. My Ariats are now 14 years old. Since most of my free time is spent in a barn I basically live in those Ariats. I am in denial that they are starting to finally give in to old age. The newer Ariats are made in China. Although I have several rather expensive pairs of the newer ones, the quality and fit is not the same. I have always been one of those people who is more than happy to reply to the question,"whaddaya live in a barn?" to: "why yes, as a matter of fact, I do." It's a funny thing about those Ariats. When I am not in the barn I am rather a shoe whore. Last year I finally consented and cleared out a closet. The fact is that after years of standing up to ten hours a day while cutting hair, your feet spread...a lot. I went from a respectable narrow size 8 with high arches to a size 10 and a rather flat foot. I had to finally say goodbye to close t

Today is a special day. Today is my beloved cat Sweet Pea's 20th birthday! I honestly don't know where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday she was a tiny ball of fluff. I wish I had taken more photos of her as a kitten but I only have a couple crappy and grainy ones. I know everyone is prejudiced that their cat is the cutest but she really was the world's cutest kitten. At 20 she has renal failure, hyperthyroidism, arthritis and saddest of all, complete deafness. I miss calling her name and her softly merring back at me. Because of the hearing loss she will come in to my room in the morning and let out one ungodly howl. I know it is because she can't hear herself but it is unsettling to say the least! My once quiet Pea is now a Siamese howler. Sweet Pea under the X-mas tree Anyway, she seems in spite of her old age complaints to still be going strong and is still my lap cat. I know her clock is winding down and my hope is she will just curl up and go to sle

I knew when I was in the barn this morning something just felt off. After the horses were done eating their morning grain, I turned them out into the slowly greening pasture. The birds were chirping their greetings of spring, the school bus pulled up with a mechanical grind across the street, Sydney and Romeo made loud grunts and snorts while taking a morning roll in the mud. Yet, it seemed oddly quiet in spite of the usual morning sounds. My aunt wandered down just as I was getting ready to get in to my car leave for work. "We had Judi put to sleep last night." Judi was my aunt's beagle. She was named for her sister. The same sister who was my dad's long time girlfriend who had passed away from cancer 14 years ago. The same sister who taught me to ride horses. No wonder it was so seemingly quiet. The usual booo-whooo beagle bark wasn't permeating through the yard. Anyone who has encountered a beagle knows the distinct baying howl of their bark. Judi enjoyed torme

Even though it is still cold out, I know it is finally spring. The birds are chirping, our pair of Canadian Geese are back and nesting. The trees are starting to bud and the ugly brown mud is getting a tinge of green from renewing grass. The horses are getting frisky in the morning. Kicking at the doors to get out if I am taking too long in my morning chores. The way I really knew it was spring was when I received an email yesterday. It was from my realtor at the beach. She wanted to know if I was still interested in renting a house in August. My first initial reaction was to say no. I am so torn as to my memory of last years vacation. It was a coincidence that I had the house already rented and waiting when Prick decided to beat the crap out of me. Initially I thought of canceling the vacation that the two of us were supposed to be taking together, but my family and friends were insistent I go it alone. I think their feeling was that I would be safer away from my home. Prick never kne

I wish I could say it was my first one. I knew the moment the form came that I received a certified letter. The prison was nice enough to have called two days before to give me heads up that Prick was being released almost a month early for good behavior. Just the term "good behavior" makes the bile come to the top of my throat. I knew the certified letter would be my official Victim Notification Form. I would love to say this whole experience is my first brush with crime. Prick is actually the third person who I receive a Victim Notification from. The first was from an incident that happened back in 2001. My friend who ownes a horse rescue asked if I would accompany her on a rescue. I had done so many times before so never hesitated to say yes. That incident ended up with me being held at gunpoint by a man who was snorting crystal meth right as we pulled in to his driveway. He is now serving a life sentence in a federal prison. Ironically he got the life sentence for c