Pushing Daisies

Last year 'Pushing Daisies', a quirky little show, aired on television. It hasn't been on for awhile, but its new season started up again a week or so ago. I am so happy that it's back on.

The premise of the show is that Ned, the cute guy in the middle, found out that he had a very special power when he was a young boy. He is able to bring dead people back to life with his touch. However, once he brings them back to life there are two events that happen - First, if he touches them a second time they will die again, second, if he keeps them alive for more than a minute or two, someone else will die. I won't go into detail as to how he found that out since that's not the point of my post, but I will say that as an adult his childhood dog is still alive, but he has to pet it with a wooden hand.

Ned's main career is a pie maker. He owns a pie shop called the "Pie Hole". However he hooked up with a private investigator to solve murders. When someone dies suspiciously, they go to the morgue and the corpse tells them how they died when Ned touches him or her. This must be done in a minute or two before Ned has to touch them a second time before someone else dies. It's morbid I know, but clever. During the first episode Ned's childhood sweetheart dies suspiciously on a cruise ship. Ned and the PI go to the morgue and when Ned realizes it's Charlotte (nicknamed Chuck) he can't touch her a second time to make her die again. Fast forward through the next season, as Ned and Chuck have helped the PI solve crimes and been involved in numerous shenanigans, they have fallen in love.

That is wonderful, but there's only one problem, they can't touch each other - nothing, not even hold hands. Which got me thinking. Of course this is just television, but what a dilemma, don't you think? They have a great emotional love, but no physical love. Certainly there are people out there that have great physical love, but limited emotional love. A combination of both is ideal, but watching this show makes me ponder this dilemma. My head says, of course if I had to choose between just emotional love with my true love, I'd take it. But then my heart says how miserable that would be if he were my true love. It would be a very difficult choice. What do you think? If you had to make that choice, what would you choose?

My First Love, Part 3

When I was in 6th grade, my parents gave in and agreed that it was time for me to have my own horse. My trainer put out feelers with her contacts to find me one. Shortly after, she was informed that there was a horse boarded at a barn across town that had just gone up for sale. She was a bit older, but was a veteran show horse who had been winning on the show circuit in LA County. Her name was CC with a show name of Critic's Choice. A little, shiny bay mare, she was as cute as could be. My trainer and I went to the barn across town and tried her out. She was nice, a little stubborn - which is typical of a mare, but she seemed like a good fit for me.

We decided to bring her back to my barn and try her out for a week before making a decision. Things went well during the trial, and after a couple of weeks she was mine.

This, however, is the one and only picture I have a CC. It was a short-lived partnership between the two of us. As we trained for the upcoming show season and pushed her a bit at the jumping, we realized why she had been sold in the first place. She had become sour which meant she had lost the desire to jump. I would estimate that during the time that I owned her I jumped about 75% of the fences WITHOUT her. She'd stop and I'd fly over her neck onto to the ground on the other side of the jump. I was only about 10 at this time so my trainers would often get on to work her and she would even stop with them. She was not the horse for me and over time fear set in and I didn't enjoy riding her or anyone else. It's not fun riding a horse when you fall off of it all the time. I got scared and, even though I always "got back on" I wasn't having any fun. We finally decided to put her back up for sale. Luckily, we were able to sell her, but my confidence was shot after having this little horse. We were in the market for a new one, but I wasn't so sure a new one would help my confidence.

My First Love, pt. 2

At first, riding lessons were just that. Once-a-week, I went to the barn and was shown how to groom a horse, tack a horse, walk, trot, and canter horse, bathe a horse, feed a horse, and ride a horse. I savoured every minute of it.

After a little while, my lessons increased to twice a week, and then the woman giving the lessons gave my parents the name of a trainer who would be able to take my riding to the next level. I moved to another barn and started training there. I didn't have my own horse, but was allowed to use my trainer's horses.

After moving barns, I met a lot of new friends and my life revolved around the ranch. On weekends, my parents would drop me off for an 8:00 or 9:00 am lesson and I would spend the rest of the day just hanging out, calling them about 5:00 PM to come back and pick me up, still wearing my barn clothes and riding boots. By the time I got home, my boots had become one with my legs and my dad would literally drag me off the couch and around the living room floor trying to get them off my feet. Good times!

I still didn't have my own horse, but begged on a daily basis to get one.

I started showing my trainer's horses when I was about 9. Horseshows took up the weekend. Saturday was spent prepping for the show - bathing and braiding the horses, cleaning the tack, gathering the supplies, and putting everything into the trailer. We had to get up bright and early to be back at the ranch about 6:00 in the morning so we could load the horses into the trailer and arrive at the horseshow which usually began at 8:00 am and lasted all day.

Here I am riding Lady, one of my trainer's horses.

Here I am riding Cleo.

It was great that I was given the opportunity to ride and show other people's horses, but I wanted a horse of my own so badly that it hurt. I would come home from the barn, go to my room, stare at my Duran Duran posters and cry for hours about it. A couple of my close friends at the barn had their own horses and I would talk about them constantly. Finally, my parents gave in.

My First Love, pt. 1

From the ages of 6 to 18 years old, my life revolved around horses.

It all started when I was about 5 years old. My mom took me to a local stable that rented horses by the hour to take on trail rides. My mom paid for our ride and we were led to the horses. Mom got a nice bay (brown) horse, and I got a horse with a perm. Here I am with the Farrah Fawcett feathered hair. Also, if you look closely, you can see the rubber "thong" or flip flop key chain attached to my belt loop. Gotta love the late 70s.

Mom had never been on a horse before, but the two of us set off on an hour ride through the wilderness, which is now West Ranch (for those of you who are local to the SCV). I remember bits and pieces of this ride, but Mom and I were reminiscing about it last week and she had more details. She and I rode for a little while in one direction. We wanted to go the other way on the road, but changing directions kind of seemed like we were going back to the barn to my mom's horse. Now, if anyone has ever been on a trail horse before, you know that when a trail horse thinks it's going back to the ranch, there's no stopping it. It wants to go back. So, my mom's horse was stubborn and kept turning around on the road, wanting to go back. Apparently, I took charge. "Come on mom," I said as I took the other horse's reins and led her horse alongside mine (the one with the perm) while we walked passed the ranch area and along the road for the rest of our ride.

That did it. I got the sickness; the horse lover's sickness. I think it is genetic though because my Grandpa Chet, on my mom's side, also loved horses. In fact he owned race horses. He passed away before I turned one, but his love of horses must be in my blood. I begged and begged my parents to let me take horseback riding lessons. Around that time, I was also signed up for AYSO soccer. My parents gave me a choice; it was soccer or riding lessons. I'm sure my parents were secretly hoping that I chose the cheaper sport of soccer, but I didn't.

I started riding lessons with the help of my Grandma Dot (mom's mom) when I was 6, and for the next 12 years, horses were my life.

Koho

This is Koho.

She is my dog. I love my dog a lot. There was recently some concern over at Grandma J's about people who love their dog just a little too much by dressing them in clothing, carrying them in their bags, and bringing them to inappropriate places like restaurants, grocery stores, and boutiques. I assure you, I don't do those things. My dog weighs about 50 pounds so she is too heavy to carry around in a handbag and those doggy clothes don't fit her, besides she's a dog and although I love her to death, she's still a dog.

But, she's the best dog ever. Here's why...

• She's an Australian cattle dog which means she's super smart. She's so smart that she has taught me to stop trying to teach her tricks like rolling over and shaking paws. She looks at me like I'm the dummy. However, she does sit, stay, and do her business on command. Fetch and "Come here" are hit and miss. If she feels like it, she does it great, if she doesn't, she doesn't. Because she's a cattle dog, she also likes to herd things. Whether it be squirrels or small children, she's not picky. She really can't be picky living in the suburbs. I told you she is smart.


• She's a good guard dog. If someone comes to the door, even on TV, fits of hysteria come over her and she runs around barking her head off with the hair on her neck and back standing straight up on end. When we are invited over to the houses of friends, she barks when I knock on the door. "This is their house," I have to tell her.


• She loves routine. As soon as the alarm goes off to start our day, she has a schedule of what they day should be like. If something interrupts that schedule she is disoriented and has a hard time handling it.


• She's cuddly. She likes to be close to me at all times. That could be sitting on my feet, curling up next to me on the couch, or snuggling next to me in bed at night. I let her sleep on the bed. It's a big bed, so there's plenty of room, but I often find myself hanging off the end of the bed because Koho is sprawled out right next to me sound asleep. When I get up in the middle of the night, she usually has made my spot her spot and falls back to sleep. I have to push her out of the way so I can get back into bed.


• She's cute. She has brown freckles all over her legs and face. There is a black ring around the middle of her tail and the end of her tail is white, like it's been dipped in paint. Plus, when she lies down, she crosses her front paws like a princess. Some say that's a sign of intelligence.

She's just the coolest dog ever.

Here in sunny California, 104 is not only the amount it cost to fill up your gas tank, but also the temperature most days in the summer. As cute and cuddly as Koho is, all that hair sheds like a "motha" in the summer. So about June every year I have her shaved. Here she is shaved.

She sure looks funny and gets embarrassed when I laugh at her, but she seems cooler and doesn't leave white hair everywhere around the house.