The Scampering Horse

Do you ever have that thing where you are commenting on Facebook or sending someone a message and you mean to write a comment, but somehow, you accidentally put up a GIF, and then you can't figure out how to take that thing down? It's just there. It makes no sense in context of the conversation. But there it lingers, with its horrifying visual stench, and people are probably judging you, even through we know everyone GIF's every now and then. Well, sometimes I have equally ridiculous ideas but nobody sees them. GIF farts in my brain, so to speak. Today I had one. I was in a YMCA class called "Bodyflow." It's a mix of Thai-chi, Pilates, and yoga. The switch up of movements is great for people who get cranky during workouts. I lose track of the time, and that is fantastic. So, we started making big circles, and then we swept that philosophical sand with our arms. I am so good at sweeping that sand with my fingertips, legs bending down in a semi-squat pos...

Meet Hyrum. In his pocket is a yo-yo. I’ve known him since he was a baby because I’m his aunt. I’m so lucky, because without this special relationship, Hyrum would be too shy to talk to me. Hyrum McNeill is a 14 year old boy: brown hair, hazel eyes, and an aptitude for math and running. His latest science project studied the bacterial growth on cell phones. (Spoiler alert, ewwww! Wash those things!) As much as his teachers loved him, his parents loved him, and I loved him, he struggled with friends at school. As a young boy, he was usually the kid that didn’t have a friend to play with, so he’d read. He also found out yo-yo was a solo sport, and it interested him. He would watch YouTube videos of it. By watching the pro yo-yo players, he learned better tricks. The internet provided a source of procedural research for Hyrum. He is a scientist, after all. He watched the Pro yo-yo players and practiced. His favorite player was Gentry Stein, the 2014 Class 1A World Champion. He’d practic...

I feel floaty. Like, I don’t know quite what the thing is that I’m doing right now. It's probably what a jellyfish feels like, but I don't have the poisonous tentacles. That means you don't have to pee on yourself if I touch you. You're welcome. The past two years I was a school teacher, a marathon runner, a mom, and a writer. Those roles filled up my person completely and I quite nearly overflowed. I had to squeeze in time for all of the big roles, as well as take time to take care of myself with lots of counseling, and driving two hours for counseling, and figuring out my medicine for depression. Time consuming. Exhausting. And focused. I was overflowing with purpose. The blisters were concrete evidence. This past school year I knew would be one of big changes. My husband’s job at Cabelas in Sidney, NE was going to change, so I didn’t sign a contract to teach. I thought we would move to Springfield, MO for quite some time. I was going to be neighbors to th...

Ian moved to San Antonio a couple of weeks before I did, and he had big dreams of starting a workout routine right when he got here. Well...that didn't happen. There are a lot of good ways to talk yourself out of working out. This is not an exhaustive list, but Ian is pretty good at it, so, if you are about to start working out and you are running out of excuses not to, there are a lot of good ideas here. I don 't know this guy. My use of this image is frowned upon. 1. Can't decide on a place. Take into account price, location, equipment, resources, etc. etc.  2. Can't decide on a time. 3. Don't have a place to wash the smelly post-workout clothes. 4. Inadvertently leave your shoes at home (in Nebraksa), so you don't have them. 5. Once you have a place, and a time, be sure not to know WHAT to do. 6. Feel uncomfortable designing your own workout, and just don't do it for awhile. 7. Get caught up on that one exercise you don't know...

Oh, and I took your headphones. A passing thought I share as I move in for a goodbye kiss. I'm off to Utah. Tra-la-la. But, the tra-la-la didn't happen. YOU WHAT? Ian's beautiful face recoiled, turning the goodbye kiss turned into a not kiss. The beautiful face became distorted into a face that looked like it was eating spring salad mix. I try to explain my choice, confused about why I need to even justify this decision. "Well, you broke mine, and I didn't have any, so I'm borrowing yours." I look him in the eye, and he takes a few deep breaths.  "Can you think of another option?" I realize my logic is flawless, here, but somehow, I'm still not in the right. I can tell because salad face is still there. Ian is walking backwards from me. "But they are new, and for the computer." I smell something. I think it's desperation. "They're for the computer? But I see you walking all around the house with them hooked up t...

My father-in-law is one of the men of legends. Anyone who has met him has a story. He is a man of deep passion, eclectic interests and communication, he can literally fix anything, and he loves to serve. Put all of these things into a Charles, and there are stories-especially with his children. I'm fortunate to be married to one of them so when the siblings get together there are stories of tiling floors, ordering pizza when his wife wanted to eat food storage for a week, a Corvette in process of repair in the garage, searches of treasure, gun shooting adventures, and on and on.  Charles recently broke his hip. Ouch. Seriously. Both in the breaking and repairing of the hip. We've all been worried. Living far away is really hard at times like this. My heart, and my husband's heart with with Mom and Dad in Arizona.  During Thanksgiving, the Hornbargers were reunited. Ian, his brother Spencer with Miriam, and his sister Beth with Brandon. Spouses of in-laws are fun. We ...

"I'm going to miss you." I had some tears coming out of both my eyes by then. It feels awkward crying to an image on a computer screen. It was far less awkward when we met in person. My counselor had the best tissues, and there were boxes all over the office. Forgetting that I cry every time, I usually ended up wiping my eyes and nose on my sleeve.  This was what I was doing when I closed the computer screen after not making a return appointment. Graduating from counseling wasn't like graduating from high school. Nobody was there. I didn't have a party. I didn't even get the chance to buy a pretty dress and new shoes, because I didn't know I was graduating. I mean, I knew I didn't need my counselor multiple times a day like I used to. I wasn't suicidal anymore. I wasn't climbing through a marsh in my mind to find the light like I used to. I wasn't having panic attacks at church. I wasn't swallowed up in a pit of self-doubt, and judg...