Homesick

When I moved back to the normal part of the country after living in Southern California for 4 years, I was homesick. I hated to admit the fact that there is a part of me that is a bit of a city girl. It’s a little itty-bitty tiny part, but it’s there. And I really did miss it after I was gone. I got over it pretty quickly though, for the most part. I didn’t tell Chuck this, but when we went to CA last spring for a visit I was REALLY homesick. So I still have my moments. It’s a part of my life I’ll always cherish.

Once in a great while, I get restless. The comforting pace of Idaho life, that generally is so perfect for me, gets monotonous. Usually, when I step outside and see the mountains surrounding me, smell the freshly rain-washed sage, hear the horses nicker to me, feel the coolness of night turning to day and the ever-constant breeze on my face and watch my babies play in the dirt, I feel like I’m right where I want to be.

Then there are other days……days when I step out my back door and close my eyes and remember the salty, misty (albeit smoggy….) beach air, the palm trees hanging in the fog waiting for the sun to break out, the smell of McDonald’s and Starbucks and Jack-In-the-Box and orange trees all mingling together because they were all a block away, the sound of traffic and the waves crashing. I remember the circle of friends that have now become so very influential in my life all in one place, the money that flowed and the beer that flowed with it, the spontaneous Vegas trips, the anticipation for the weekend because there was ALWAYS something going on. And Colimas.....oh how i remember Colimas!!!

For a minute, I close my eyes and let myself be homesick.

Then I open my eyes, promise myself a vacation soon, go feed the horses that are so patiently waiting for me and rub their velvet noses, get the fresh eggs from the hens, go get the stack of never-ending bills from the mailbox, wave to the neighbor driving by (on a tractor), grab an armload of firewood and come in the house to be greeted by two little brothers scrapping on the living room floor about a toy.

It’s about then that I close my eyes again. Not to reminisce, but to earnestly thank God that I truly am right exactly where I need to be.

I wish someone had caught this on camera...

I learned something new today. Something that I probably should know, considering my husband is a farrier, but I’ve never been known to learn things the easy way. I learned that you should always keep a safe distance between your face and a horses hoof. And by safe, I mean like, two feet away!

I have this horse. He’s a big ol’ lover horse. I think if I let him in the house, he’d try to sit on the couch with me like a lap dog. He’s also got a hurt foot. Not only does he already have a pad under his shoe on that foot for rotation or a bruise (we haven’t decided yet), but he somehow managed to get a little cut on the back of it recently. I’m paranoid he’s going to go permanently lame, so I’ve been keeping an eye on this little cut. Today, I picked up his foot, got right up underneath him and looked reeeaaaal close at the cut. Then I pulled on a tiny piece of loose skin. I know this big guy is as laid back as they come, so I wasn’t worried. But Buster didn’t like that. He jerked his foot away. Have you ever seen a horse kick a fly off their belly with one of their front hooves? It’s Karate-Kid-quick. My nose happened to be the fly this time though. I saw stars for a second. I’m pretty sure Buster laughed at me.

Lesson learned….