Category: Uncategorized

Overalls Beat All

Mary Jane’s Farm magazine has published a new article of mine, Bird Music, on p.26 in the August-September issue of the magazine. This issue is on newsstands now, take a look!

I can’t share that article from the current issue yet. Instead, I’ll share my last article, Overalls Beat All, that was published in the June-July issue of Mary Jane’s Farm magazine. 

Overall, it was a rough time when I broke my arm after that unplanned dismount off my horse.  It was my right arm, my dominant hand, and simple things became difficult.  Especially buttoning and zipping up my jeans.  Oddly, that season of the broken arm, when I was less active, my jeans started shrinking, becoming even harder to fasten.  Why do jeans do that to us?

Long ago when my oldest son was little, I had a pair of bib overalls.  The cool striped ones, like farmers wear.  Or railroad engineers. I even had the matching railroad-style hat, and a wooden train whistle.  One must respect the whole outfit, especially when raising boys.  I would wear those loose-fitting overalls often and I usually left one of the over-the-shoulder straps undone.  Because why buckle it when I’ll just have to undo it later when I go to the bathroom?  Bib overalls stay up fine with just one strap. 

My mom remembers visiting during that time and dressing my son, a toddler, in his own little overalls.  She started to fasten the second strap over his shoulder, when he clearly told her, with a few mispronounced words, that it wasn’t done that way.  Overalls were to be worn with only one strap.  Like mother, like son. 

Flash forward again to the time of my broken arm.  I no longer had overalls, and was wearing stretchy pants, sweatpants, and even slacks, because they were easy to pull up and fasten with one hand.  I’m really not a slacks-wearing girl these days, and the wind blows right through those lightweight pants.  I missed my jeans. I mentioned to my family how overalls would work well given my limited dressing abilities. 

My husband searched all over town for overalls in my size, long length.  He found some plain blue denim overalls, gave them to me as a birthday gift, and they actually fit!  I was happy to have them, and of course only used one shoulder strap, because that is the way we do things in this house.  Also because of laziness, and because I only had one working hand.   I wore those new overalls for a week straight.  Then my husband surprised me with another pair of overalls: purple, with vegies printed all over them!  I will be dressed in the height of style while gardening this year. 

Now that my arm is recovering, I’m back to jeans, at least some of the time.  But I’m still wearing those comfy overalls with one shoulder strap undone, sometimes on purpose and sometimes because the one side doesn’t clip very tightly anyhow.  A few times my friends have reached over to fasten the clip for me, making me laugh.  I guess they don’t recognize a fashion trendsetter when they see one. 

[Photo credit: pexels.com]

How to Plan a Trip, Without Really Planning

There are many things I am good at.  Such as procrastination.  I am also good at doing things at the last-minute.  Having a rough day and needing a glass of wine with little notice?  I’m your gal. But planning ahead, especially far ahead, is not a skill of mine.  Planning dinner parties stresses me out (unless it’s last minute, and potluck, then I’m great). 

So how then do I plan long trips or exotic vacations?  I let other people do it!  I just got back from a week-long trip to Wyoming.  It was a long time in planning, and most of the planning was done by my travel-partners-in-crime.  My friend Katy found a forest service cabin with horse corrals and rented the four-nights.  It was a location half-way between my house in Spokane, and Katy’s house in Colorado.  Katy made the cabin reservation months and months ago.  She knows how to plan.

Cindy, my road-trip-travel-partner, found and made reservations for lodging at our half-way point in Deer Lodge.  That’s why they call it Deer Lodge, because there is lodging.  Actually, there is very little lodging there, but we still got a room. 

I did have to find horse-boarding for my horse, since initially I had planned to bring him, but didn’t want to haul the whole trip in one day.  I found the horse lodging by checking in with one of my Facebook groups that had a lot of good-hearted horse people on it.  One of these friends recommended the overnight stable in Deer Lodge (maybe it’s really named for horse lodging?).  Turns out, for various reasons I didn’t haul my horse… okay, it was just one reason, the stupid broken-arm-recovery-period.  Anyhow, even with just a passenger car, we still stayed in Deer Lodge, because it was halfway into the 10-hour drive.  And 10 hour drives through our western states somehow turn into 12-hour drives or more. 

You might now be thinking that I contributed next to nothing toward the trip planning and relied entirely on the good graces of my friends.  And you would be mostly right.  Except for the food part.  I planned the food, bought the food, and packed the food.  Once I was there, I cooked dinners, and made sure folks had choices for their breakfasts and lunches.  Why didn’t this stress me out like dinner parties do?  Because camping food is simple, and easy.  It’s more like  pulling things out of the pantry, and people just showing up and eating.  Plus, I got to practice my Dutch-oven cooking.  Usually when horse camping, I am too tired to put the time and effort into Dutch-oven meals.  But I wasn’t riding; Cindy and Katy were, so I made one Dutch-oven dish.  A fudge cherry cake.  It was yummy.  It’s my specialty.  And there’s fruit in it, so it’s good for you.

I admit that I have, now and then, planned whole trips ahead of time, and those trips turned out fine.  But I really don’t enjoy the planning part.  It’s way more fun when it’s a group effort and everyone does one part of it.  And I bring the makings for dessert.

[Photo Credit Cindy Miller]

Note: “The name “Deer Lodge” comes from the Deer Lodge Mound, a 40-foot-high geothermal formation at the site of present-day Warm Springs State Hospital. The mound’s shape, with steam issuing from the top, resembled a large medicine lodge, and minerals in the water attracted large numbers of deer, so Indians in the area referred to the then-prominent landmark as the Deer Lodge.” Source: https://www.fs.usda.gov/main/bdnf/about-forest

Just Say Yes to Drugs

After the broken arm, and after the angry nerve got less angry and my fingers and wrist were working again, a honeybee swarm settled on a corner post of our horse pen.  At first it looked like a giant clump of moss, grown up overnight along the wooden post.  At a closer look, it was clearly bees.  I know just enough about bee behavior to recognize that the blob of bees was protecting a queen, and if I didn’t bother them, they wouldn’t bother me.  Luckily, I’m not allergic to bees, so I was comfortable with the idea of live and let live. Or be and let bee.

I did call my bee-keeping neighbors, and the husband-and-wife team came over to transfer the swarm to an empty hive at their place.  My family and I were fascinated, and watched from a distance as they suited up into their white protective gear with mesh over their faces.  My neighbor then reached his gloved hand in to the mass of bees for the queen, pulling, pushing, and brushing the bee clump down into a cardboard box.  The bees came down in big blobs, and only a few started flying around.  Once most of the swarm was moved into the box, my friends closed it up and carried it back to their car.  I came closer to chat, and used a stick to swish a few extra bees off their bee jackets.  One disgruntled bee flew off and landed in my hair.  As I tried to gently brush him away, I got stung on my forehead, above my right eyebrow.  Ow!

I knew the sting would hurt and swell.  But I didn’t think the swelling would move down to my eyelids like it did, giving my eyes the appearance of pig-eyes.  I didn’t think my eyes and forehead would still be swollen 48 hours later, despite popping Benadryl like candy.  This was an unusual response for my body.  Typically for me, a bee sting hurts, swells, then goes away quickly.  I wasn’t particularly worried about potential for anaphylactic shock, but I still was vigilant to notice any changes to lips, mouth, or throat.  There were none.

In thinking back, though, I remembered a few significant rash and swelling reactions in the past.  Once, during our Peace Corps stint in the Gambia, we helped with a field study evaluating different varieties of sesame seeds.  Our job was to help harvest, dry, and weigh the production of the plants.  Sesame plants have fuzzy hairs on them like tomato plants.  My body did not like those little pricklies.  My whole face swelled up, including my eyelids.  My angular face became round while my eyes peeked out of puffy slits.  Benadryl (and time) was the answer then, too.  And staying away from sesame plants.

Still, I can’t get over the changes in my body these days.  The unpredictable responses.  The wimpy bones.  The stronger reactions to bee stings.  The inability to sleep through the night.  My body was always strong and tough over the years.  Generally, I got sick, then I got well. Except that one time I caught Typhoid in West Africa…that’s another story.  Now I wonder, where did my strong and supportive body go?  Why is my body reacting so dramatically at this age, even though my brain is sure that I’m still twenty-three? Whose body is this, anyway? 

Sigh.  There must be a metaphor, a moral, or a lesson in here somewhere related to the swarming bees:

  • To make the old hive stronger, you have to kick out a new queen now and then. Nope.  That doesn’t feel right.   
  • To get a little honey, you have to put up with some bee stings.  That’s better, but it doesn’t really connect to my wimpy body situation. 
  • Don’t mess with the old queen, or you’re going to get insect-butt-kicked by her drones.  We’re getting closer. I like that sentiment.  I can be the bossy queen when needed and tell my drones what to do. 

Still, I’m not finding a lesson that clearly links to my weak body.  Therefore, to conclude this blog with a deep philosophical thought, I must fall back on an old saying we learned in the Peace Corps:

  • Just say yes to drugs! (As in antibiotics, or antihistamines, or anesthetics for arm surgeries…) 

Sometimes, your body just needs a little help from the medical or pharmaceutical community.  Much like swarming bees need a little help from the bee-keeper community. 

Writing for My Audience

Know your audience, they say, in all of the “How to Write” essays and websites; then you can successfully market your books to that audience.  But my audience keeps changing as I write.  I tend to hop from humor, to poetry, to essays.  My styles and subjects vary widely.

There is the horse-people audience; where I can reach out to our commonalities and our love of horses.  My humorous memoir about living with horses sells best in a local tack shop.  

There is my home-town audience.  When I had a reading in my hometown of Blaine, Washington, I shared about what the town used to be like when I kept my horse in our back yard.  I pointed out that the current grocery store location used to be a big hay field where one of my stories occurred. 

When I had a reading in a Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, bookstore, I shared some of the humor from my book, and focused on the broader audience’s common love of animals, and what animals teach us.

Another time, when I joined a panel with more literary-style poets and writers, I read a short prose piece from my book, to better illustrate the many ways of writing about animals, and how our relationships with animals can be used as metaphors for other things.  I also reached out to a more literary audience when I shared information on my short collection of fire poems in Triple 23.  Poetry readers are yet another audience that can be different than humor or memoir readers.    

I can’t decide if my eclectic writing style is a blessing or a curse.  If I only wrote humor, I could market that humor and immediately jump into writing another similar book.  Yet the poems and essays in my brain want to be written and heard, too.  Recently I saw writing described as “an expensive hobby” where only a relatively few writers make a lot of money.  I’ve decided to embrace that idea.  My hobby of writing is a second expensive hobby after my hobby of horseback riding. 

Like jumping my horse over fallen logs in the woods, I jump from audience to audience as my writing proceeds.  Just as I explore different riding disciplines with my all-around horse, I explore different writing disciplines.  I will be the all-around writer and rider.  When mixing Western and English styles of riding, I use the term “Wenglish”.  When I’m writing humor, essays, and poetry, I need a new term.  Maybe “Hum-ess-try”?  How about “Po-ess-um”?   Oh, that last word can be condensed to “possum”!  I think I need to write a poem about opossums. 

[photo credit pexels.com]

Another Published Article in Mary Jane’s Farm Magazine

Mary Jane’s Farm magazine once again was kind enough to publish an article of mine: Overalls Beat All, p. 29, in the June-July 2024, issue. This issue is on newsstands now. I hope you enjoy the magazine.

I can’t share that article from the current issue yet. Instead, I’ll share my last article, Feeling Her Oats, that was published in the April-May issue of Mary Jane’s Farm magazine. The theme for that “Keeping In Touch” section of the magazine was “Pony Up”.

Feeling Her Oats

The phrase “pony up” means to make good on a debt. However, as a horseperson, I focus on the word “pony.” To me, pony up means to mount up and ride. It reminds me of other sayings that started with horses, or that can apply to horses. Such as, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” This phrase originates from the fact that you can tell a horse’s age by looking at the wear on its teeth. Generally, only old horses are given away, so don’t look if you don’t want to know. Don’t ask if the gift is too good to be true. Young horses are expensive; you need to pony up substantial money for a good young horse.

Another phrase is “Don’t go against the grain.” I was taught to brush a horse with the grain of the hair, following the growth along the neck, over the back, and then dipping where the hair turns down in front of the flank. You brush with the grain because if you brush the wrong way, it may tickle the horse. And a ticklish horse may surprise you with a kick.

Paper has a grain. Paper tears and folds more easily in one direction than the other. The grain of the paper comes from the way the wood fiber was laid down when the paper was made. Wood has a grain, too. If you are carving, or even just whittling, the flakes will come off smoothly in one direction, while in the other direction, they will break off in jagged chunks. Always follow the grain of the wood with your knife, and always whittle away from you. I know this; my family usually cringes when I pick up a sharp knife. This reminds me of another saying: “A dull knife cuts worse than a sharp knife.” I have the scars to prove this.

Sand has grains. Sand grains flow with gravity, or with the wind. The tiniest grains can make a large dune. Just like the tiniest effort can make a change in the world. Rice is a grain, but in that case, you need to “separate the grain from the chaff,” or focus on the important stuff. Then there is salt: “Take that with a grain of salt.” Don’t always believe what you hear. Or better yet, don’t believe something unless it comes “straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Oats are also a grain. A horse that is “feeling its oats” is very rambunctious, as if it had sugar for breakfast and is full of energy. Sometimes, if a horse is feeling its oats, the rider gets dumped. Then the expectation is to “get back on the horse.”

I tried this recently, after an unplanned dismount. I insisted on finishing the ride because I follow through on commitments. But then I felt my injured hand swelling up inside my leather glove and the pain got worse. When I saw the lumps on my wrist, I decided that getting back on the horse was overrated. After a visit to the doctor and a diagnosis of a broken bone, I relearned another old saying: “Rest is the best medicine.”

Unfortunately, a rest for me means a rest for my horse. When I finally get back to riding again, he is likely to be feeling his oats. Hopefully, the next time I pony up, I will stay in the middle of the saddle and won’t need to revisit getting back on the horse. I am optimistic that instead, we will be calmly putting one hoof in front of the other and riding off into the sunset.

[Photo Credit pexels.com]

May 10 is Buy a Horse Book Day

May 10 is International Buy a Horse Book Day. I have so many horse books in my collection, and have read so many over the years that it’s hard to pick a favorite. But I really like Jane Smiley’s fiction books: Horse Heaven, and Perestroika in Paris.

Of course, you could celebrate this wonderful day by buying my humorous memoir, Riding Lessons, Things I Learned While Horsing Around. If you would like a signed copy, and you’re within the U.S., I’ll provide free shipping through May 16. Send me an email to m.eames.writer@gmail.com and we’ll figure out the details.

Otherwise, you can request the book through a bookstore, or purchase the paperback book or Kindle ebook on Amazon at this link: https://a.co/d/9UTMcNb

Tell me about your favorite horse books! And happy reading!