Vegas Photo Dump

 (while I have been forbidden to post photos on social media, surely I can share a few w/y'all here!)

                                                      The majesty of Hoover Dam

                                                     Tina Fea Does Vegas :-)

Everything Everywhere All At Once II

 (I knew I had previously utilized this title; here’s Entry the First:)

https://endurovetssparkjourney.blogspot.com/2024/01/everything-everywhere-all-at-onc.html

It feels as if the weight o’ the world is upon me this morning, as I slump exhaustedly in my chair - trying to juice up for another busy day in the aftermath of getting the kiddos hitched…

“How was it?” everyone asks, as I admit there was a little drama (not on my end!!), but overall I think it worked out just fine. While Z & V had originally planned to just elope by themselves, somehow it metastasized into a party of 11: Peran & I, Victoria’s parents & grandparents, her dad’s buddy “Big Joe” & his wife, & last but not least, Z’s best man & former roommate Josef. As things seemed to be spiraling out of control last weekend - Z & V were understandably upset at the inclusion of Big Joe & his wife - I asked Z how I could help? He asked me to buy Josef an airline ticket, which I promptly did. We scooped Josef up on the way to the airport & folded him into our lil’ family group; he is another unofficial nephew after all! (Several people presumed that he was Zach’s brother)

Zach had been tied up at work in OKC all of last week & didn’t get home until Thursday night, so the bride & groom didn’t fly to Vegas until Friday. We had already booked our departure for Thurs, so Jo & I drove out to see Hoover Dam Friday morning - it was awesome as always! (Josef had never ventured out to behold it on his previous Vegas excursions) We met up Friday night for dinner (more minor drama as V’s grandparents felt excluded; of course they were since Z made a faux pas by failing to invite them?!?)) & were given our marching orders to meet at Z & V’s hotel (the Wynn) at 4 PM Saturday to board the party van that the Two Joes (V’s dad & Big Joe) had booked for the wedding party…

On Saturday, we passed the time by going to the Mob Museum which was interesting & informative - also jam-packed for their half-price "celebration" of the Valentine's Day massacre (NV residents were free, all else were half price). I picked Z up a copy of Frank Calabrese's book; he was there for Q & A's & to sign copies. Minor stress as we gathered our party together Sat afternoon, but in the end we all made it onto the van without a hitch. Elvis did his thang & we went back to the Strip for a couple more hours until our celebratory dinner at another fine dining establishment at the Fontainebleau.

Dear Tina Fea was an awesome lil' traveler; but she was so excited upon our return Sat night as she ran about & spun in circles that she made herself vomit! Good thing I had a few bites of leftover steak for her ;-)

And that, as they say, was that - we flew back on Sunday as the kids continue on their honeymoon to San Diego! I'll post some photos when technology cooperates & I have a few more free moments.

Disgruntled

 … is what best describes my mood this morning. Overlying (or underlying?) everything is my low-grade malaise as I recover from the crud that Misti shared with us all last week. 

My original plans to take Victoria out for a “dinner with the old married ladies” had to be scrapped with Misti being sick, Kristy tied up in her own family drama, & Amber having her own date-night plans, so I wound up just taking the kids out to dinner myself which was very nice - how can I refuse Mijo when he invites himself?!? On Saturday I laid low, fasting & drinking lots of vitamin C, & on Sunday I went for a short ride. Dear Tony will always be that glass half-empty kind of person - we had a challenge getting Katie-mule loaded, nor he did enjoy riding her! Yet he has invited himself to my next endurance event in two weeks - we should be able to just share Twoie: he’ll ride him on Saturday, I’ll pick up his reins Sunday… Go Twoie!!! Gotta make hay while the sun shines!

I was a little peeved that I did not get an invite to my trail-riding buddy’s Super Bowl party, makes me feel as if Val is fine for hitting up for free veterinary advice, but when push-comes-to-shove I’m out in the cold like the little match girl. In all likelihood, I would’ve declined the invite anyway since I don’t wanna expose anyone to my crud - but it would’ve been nice to have been asked…

Now I will sulk my way into a shower & get on with my Monday - I can’t believe my son’s wedding is less than a week away! I wrestled myself into my shapewear yesterday and pronounced it acceptable if not ideal…

Never miss an opportunity to see my kiddos; I only hope I didn't expose them to my crud!

I offered to loan Victoria these replica Jackie Kennedy pearls which were my grandma's; she loved collecting Franklin Mint's offerings! If Victoria really likes them, I'll probably gift them to her since I think I've worn them perhaps twice since my grandma's passing in 1999...

& here's another candidate for the "something borrowed" category: the hand-sewn wedding bell which Peran's mum made for me to carry along with my bouquet when we were married...

Total Recall

 (Love the original Schwarzenegger flick, never even bothered to try to watch the remake! Occasionally get sucked into the debates as to whether the whole thing was, in fact, “just a dream”)

But a dream/imagination sequence that left a lasting impression on me was the boy who lost his Red Pony - anyone else scarred by that film??? Nevermind that it’s considered another one of Steinbeck‘s masterpieces, that scene where Jody imagine his poor pony trying to fight off the buzzards - when in fact he has already died, escaping from the barn to collapse in the field - gave me nightmares as a child. And what did that poor pony die of? Strangles - something that is part of our routine vaccination package these days. It’s such a nasty disease that even despite vaccination, some animals still are infected…

Anyway, I had to face my nightmares yesterday when I had to put out a round bale for the horses. Dear Moonie had a “Tibetan sky burial” since I was unable to secure the services of a gravedigger. While I could not bring myself to go inspect what 2 weeks of time, decay, the elements & scavengers have wrought upon my baby, I couldn’t help but see the high arch of his rib cage out of the corner of my eye. Circle of life, my ass! In a few more weeks, I may take the wheelbarrow & gather up a few bones to bring up the hill & inter by his mama. It’s the least I can do.

Alternative Realities

 (Started to type “Endings”, but even as rotten as I’m feeling these days, I think I am years away from that clearing at the end of the path)

I do need to sit down in a meditative stance - for me these days, that’s in the recliner with my lap full of little dogs! - and think seriously about what the hell I am doing here? While I keep on setting these micro-mini goals for myself: Z & V’s wedding, upcoming rides - on a day-to-day basis, it’s a struggle & I must admit, I’m not enjoying this phase of my life. Chronic illness is a B*I*T*C*H as I stagger around with worsening shortness of breath. I went ahead & made an appointment  at MD Anderson after a 10-yr boycott, bcz they're the only place w/a comprehensive care team where I feel as if I might get some answers (even if they're unfavorable ones)

I’ve contracted with one of these tax abatement attorneys - finally got a huge batch of paperwork together & mailed it in yesterday. Let’s hope I can at least break even on this deal, but I’ve got to get out from under this suffocating feeling of failure - not to mention the fact I don’t want the IRS to start levying liens on my properties! This whole disastrous eminent-domain/relocation nightmare has almost demolished me but I’ve gotta find a way to crawl back to some semblance of what I thought my own version of “All Creatures Great & Small” might be…

Army Guy asked me what I might do differently in my life? I told him I couldn’t go down that path -second-guessing oneself is no way to live! Exact quote:

“Thanks for the acknowledgment, but I’m still angry at myself for getting so far behind the 8-ball!!! Procrastination is probably my biggest character flaw & I’m also real bad at second-guessing & what-iffing myself - “If only I had done X, Y or Z” but of course life doesn’t work that way. Maybe that reality is finally sinking in for me at almost 62 yrs of age!

The past cannot be changed, it can only be managed & if I hadn’t been an impulsive youngster when I married my first husband, I would never have gotten my wondrous son out of that raw deal. That long & winding road has brought me exactly here to this place in time** & I’ve got to figure out how to make the best of it…

** I don’t know how big of a sci-fi geek you are? but while Star Trek is my favorite, I’ve got to go back & re-watch Interstellar to figure out the wormholes. (A nearby theatre had a special showing last week, but the weather was still crap so I didn’t get out to see it)”

& now, like it or not, I’ve got to get on into work. Misti has already texted in sick 🤦‍♀️

The Everyday Miracle

 I came across this meditation on Twitter/X & found it quite profound:

I became a father yesterday.

My wife did this without an epidural. I watched her suffer in ways I will never fully comprehend, carrying a weight I could not share no matter how I tried. For nine months, I was present but powerless.

Pregnancy forced me to confront something modern life constantly tries to erase: you must wait. Painfully. Excruciatingly. There are no shortcuts to life. No hacks. No optimizations. Just time, and flesh, and blood.

Women bear the disproportionate burden of bringing life into the world. I still don’t fully understand why. Only that it’s true, and profound, and humbling beyond words.

I witnessed pain in its rawest form. À suffering that creates. That’s the poetry of it. Imperfect, brutal, but so precisely orchestrated that it cannot be coincidence. I saw Eden play out; the curse and the promise, together in one body.

There is no way you witness how life begins and conclude this is random. No way you watch a body break itself open to bring forth another person and think we are here by accident, that existence is a cosmic joke. The process is too terrible, too sacred, too exactly what it needs to be.

If everyone began life by witnessing a full pregnancy and labour, we would understand the weight of human existence differently. We participate in it, but we do so as children and forget. This is the passage. The one that strips away pretense and forces you to reckon with the fact that we are here for something.

I always assumed fatherhood would arrive in my thirties, after I’d figured myself out as robustly as I imagined I’d want, after life had settled. Instead, it showed up at 27. No warning. No badge of readiness. Just reality.

Two things haunted me throughout these nine months.

The first: What is a father?

For nine months, you wait for someone you do not know. You count weeks, feel kicks, watch your wife’s body transform and suffer, but the person at the center remains a mystery. I kept asking my wife, half-joking: Who the hell is this guy? He could be anyone.

That realization struck me harder than expected: the sheer nothingness of human fatherhood at the start. You don’t author a child. You don’t summon him by will. You are present, but not primary.

And that’s when it became clear.

There is a greater Father.

One who was with him in the womb when I was not.

One who willed him, shaped him, knit him together before I ever felt useful.

One who knew him before he was visible, before he was named, before he was handed to me.

Pregnancy made that impossible to ignore. It stripped me of the illusion of control.

A child is not a possession. He is a gift. And like all real gifts, he comes from Someone higher.

I’ve been able to slowly understand that parenting is not ownership. It’s stewardship. Helping this little man discover his real Father. The One who loved him before the foundations of the world.

And more than that, parenting is trust.

Trusting that the same God who found me in my confusion and chaos will find him too.

Trusting that I don’t have to be the savior to be a good father.

Trusting that my role is presence, love, discipline, humility. Not replacement.

I understand I am not the source. I am a signpost.

And strangely, that is very freeing. Because it means I don’t have to pretend to be God. I just have to be faithful.

So help me God.

*************************

Of course, this being Twitter, I had to skim the replies & came across this (who admittedly makes some good points) - I can relate to her bitterness & cynicism since I selected such a sub-par sire for my offspring:

Tell her congratulations on the safe delivery of her baby. As for weird, I find it extremely weird that you seem so eager to dehumanize her and diminish her gift to you. 

Your wife used her female body – the body that men, apparently you included, are so eager to objectify – to do something that no man is capable of doing, and never will be. For centuries, it was the only thing a woman could do that men would appreciate, but that’s neither here or there. 

The fact is that your child is a gift - not from God, but from your wife, born from the love she bears you – and you don’t seem to realize that. Male ejaculate is perhaps the most worthless thing on the planet on its own, but women take it and use it to create what most of us would agree is the most precious thing on the planet – a brand new human being. 

And to do this, we use the body that men have abused and objectified for as long as we’ve been human beings, and probably longer. The very thing that makes women vulnerable, we use to give men a gift beyond the price of rubies – a human child. It’s sad that so few men seem to care to understand or appreciate that.

******************************

I would have compared the priceless value of one’s own child to “diamonds” or “platinum”, but other than that, Diana is spot on - my ex made me feel so worthless by his rejection & focused cruelty, when I had made this ultimate compromise/sacrifice for him. I will never until the end of my days, I suppose? understand - it’s one thing for men & women to fall out of love, pursue other relationships, etc. What I cannot comprehend is how Michael was determined to injure & destroy both me & his own son in the process? There sits my primal wound, I guess.

My girl Kristy just became a grandma at the ripe old age of 36 (her stepdaughter had her baby Thursday). I hope all goes well for them - Who am I to question why baby daddy didn’t marry Kendal?!? I had been an old married lady for 13 yrs at the ripe old age of 34 when I had my son, & neither marriage nor social stigma shielded me from the fallout of my ex making an absolute ass of himself (I started to type “jackass” but that would be insulting to my beloved donkeys)

                                                             Kendal & Kollter

                                                            Poppy Justin

                                                       The Smiths

Nine Little Indians

 How strange it feels to be prepping eight buckets for my nine equines who are all in the barn now - Katie-Mule & Mr T (her little donkey friend, the “bonus”) having inherited Moonie’s stall…

I laid Moonie to rest 8 days ago, just ahead of our winter storm which basically shut North Texas down for 5 days (it blew in Friday night). We had to close Monday because I couldn’t get out of my frozen driveway; we re-opened late on Tuesday. Schools have been closed all week (with the refreeze last night, most schools extended their closure through today). Texas has just never established the infrastructure for dealing w/snow & ice - we’re lucky we didn’t have the power outages that plagued us during Snowmageddon in 2021! Zach & Josef lost power in Mesquite; they were burning scrap lumber in their inadequate fireplace - Zach says the only way they survived was staying bundled up on the sectional couch with their two big dogs & the three cats.

The popular hashtag for this year‘s winter storm is “Dallaska” - lots of videos of impromptu figure skating & hockey games!

Despite all this, Zach’s stern Swiss bosses dictated that he drive to Midland (about 330 miles away) Monday afternoon - once he made it out to the main highway, he didn’t have any problems. He came home last night, only complaining of the fact that Midland is not a desirable place to be! Desolate W Texas oil town w/limited amenities - “Never stay there, Mom! Cruddy roach motels!”

He’s going to have to work most of the week-after-next in OKC, but he’s told his boss he’s got to get away on Friday because we have that date at the little wedding chapel in Vegas! I’ve got to write out a new set of feeding instructions for the pet sitter…