Life in progress

Category Archives: Life


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H is for High-Spirited

I used to be very much a horse person. I loved horses as a kid – wanted to spend all my time with horses, so I talked my parents into sending me to horse camp where I learned how to ride. I remember being assigned my horse at the beginning of the week – the one I would ride twice a day. Oh how happy I was when I finally graduated to the more high-spirited horses!

I began of course with the ones that just plodded along. The ones that give the rider the illusion that he or she is in control but in fact there is nuthin’ that’s gonna change that beast’s mind about following the horse-bum in front of it. I swear sometimes those kinds of horses are sleep walking.

Years later as an adult I went back to farm where I had formerly gone to camp and got a job taking out trail rides. The number one rule for guiding a trail is to watch the customers, meaning that as a guide, I’d spend three quarters of my time twisted around in the saddle facing forward but looking back. This includes while trotting and galloping. I remember my first trail – my God was I nervous! Nervous as in I didn’t have a single drop of spit in my mouth nervous. Riding backwards while running turned out to be the least of my worries that day.

You see, every once in a while we’d get a real ass (and I’m not talking about a donkey) go out for a ride. It was normally a young guy who wanted to show off to his friends how skilled he was on horseback. Invariably the ass had no idea what he was doing. Normally we could spot them 100 miles off and stick them on one of the aforementioned plodders. No problem, right? I got one of these guys my very first trail ride ever. And somehow he managed to do the one thing that would get a plodder’s attention.

We had on the farm a thing we called “the gallop strip.” It was a stretch of trail facing away from the barn (because if you gallop a horse in the direction of the barn it ain’t gonna stop) that nine times out of ten the more high-spirited horses would behave themselves on, and the plodders would get up to a trot… which was hilarious when we got one of our macho men on one, because he’d be bouncing all over the place totally out of control. Not so much on my first time out.

My macho man managed to hold his horse back through sheer brutality when everyone else started to run. Me, not being experienced, tried but failed to slow everyone else down (a lesson I quickly learned). So when the plodder, freaked out that his horsey friends’ bums had left without him, he finally bolted. The horse passed the trail line, passed me and took off for the barn. There I was screaming at the guy as he’s getting farther and farther away (with not an ounce of spit which was difficult) to pull back on the reins and stop squeezing with his feet which was what was making the horse go faster, I couldn’t chase him because the rest of my trail would chase me…

Needless to say I ended my first trail ride as a guide in tears. But, as they say, you’ve just got to dust yourself off and get right back on, right? I loved that job; I did it for about five years. And I’ve got a million stories to go with it.

So much for my letter of the alphabet today, eh? Oh wait – one of the synonyms for “high-spirited” is “dashing.” That works. 😀

Me at 12 years old

Me, at 12 years old

 

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions


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G is for Glacial

Oooh, brrrr. Here’s a chilly subject. Appropriate considering we’re getting freezing rain here. Tiny little glaciers falling from the sky. The kind of weather that lifts your shoulders to your earlobes.

Speaking of cold shoulders, (what a segue, eh?) the first synonym in my thesaurus for glacial is antagonistic. Along those lines are also inimical (I absolutely cannot pronounce that word. Can you?) and unfriendly. This immediately brings trolls to my mind; the glacial denizens of the internet.

We’re all waiting to cross that bridge, aren’t we? If we haven’t already of course. That icy, slippery causeway to misery – commentary’s dip into a hostile Arctic abyss.

Or.

Just ignore them and they’ll go away.

The word, “glacial” also brings to mind my childhood and my favourite pasttime back then – figure skating. Although I practiced for eight years, I never did perfect the art of the axel. For those of you not too familiar, it’s a jump that involves taking off from a forward facing direction, spinning one and a half rotations (for a single axel) in the air and landing on the opposite foot facing the other direction. I simply didn’t have the guts to really give it 100% of my effort. I did enjoy coaching, though. Figure skating is one of those things that fits well into the adage, “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.”

What are you better at teaching than doing?

 

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

 


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One-Liner Wednesday – Life is too short

too short

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Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.

As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.

Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”

The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:

1. Make it one sentence.

2. Make it either funny or inspirational.

Have fun!


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Blogging from the Grave

Okay, my friends, I need your opinion on something. It’s a tough one. I fully expect some of you may even unfollow me over this. Honestly, as I read this over I’m not even sure whether or not to post it. But it’s been bugging me…

My current conundrum started out innocently enough. Looking at the stats on my fiction blog, pathetic as they are compared to last year when I did an A-Z story there, I wondered if it was too late to start a new fiction piece this year. I am, however, stretched thin enough already so I thought hey, why not start now and write a chapter every two weeks to post for next year! And why not schedule them as I write them?

But A-Z 2016, I thought, is a long way off. So much could happen between now and then. What if, for example, I die between now and next April? It would mean that my posts would appear after my death! Would that be really cool for the people who received notifications that I’d posted again? Or would it be creepy? And what if I died just before I finished writing my story? Talk about a cliffhanger!!

So here’s where I need your input. Think about it. Many of us hope to blog for a good long time to come. Some, including me, can see ourselves blogging until we pop off. Each and every one of us has the ability to schedule our posts ahead of time – we can even plan to send out a loving message after we die, by re-scheduling every few month or years. Kind of like those hidden tapes they’re always finding in movies where the character says, “If you’re listening to/watching this, I’m dead.”

Would YOU want your writings to come out after you pass away? And how would you feel if someone you follow, as sad as it would be if they died whilst in the throes of their illustrious blogging career, posted an article after he or she had kicked the proverbial bucket? Because let’s face it, unless someone else has a blog’s password, there’s nothing that can prevent a scheduled post from going live, so to speak.

It’s difficult to say, isn’t it? Or is to simply too morbid to contemplate?

 


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F is for Forefather

Up until now, the word “forefather” has always seemed a little redundant to me. Of course after I turned to it in my thesaurus as my word of the day, I looked it up to get a little more insight on what exactly it means, but in the past I was all like, “of course it’s a FOREfather. Can’t really be an AFTERfather, can it? Dad has to come first unless someone’s discovered the secret to time travel – and going down that road is just ewww…” *thinks of that episode of Futurama in which Fry discovers he’s his own grandfather* But now I’ve discovered it means every papa that came before dear ol’ dad it makes a little more sense.

I’ve never been much into family trees. I know I came from somewhere and while it would be nice to know whether or not I descend from royalty (my kids’ behaviour sometimes indicates that I actually may), since it doesn’t much help me one way or another I don’t really care enough to go delving. I understand there are cultures that are way into knowing where they come from and I think that’s very cool. Information like that, passed down through generations and not having to be discovered from scratch would be quite useful at times. Then again, finding out your predecessor was a dirty rotten scoundrel might be equally as disconcerting.

Before I sign off on this post I really REALLY have to mention one of the synonyms I found for “forefather.” I’m going to start using it any chance I get – it’s so cool. Ready?

PRIMOGENITOR

Seriously! Doesn’t it sound like some sort of awesome Transformer! Imagine, traveling back in time and meeting up with this ginormous dude made of space-aged plastic who bends down, and roars in a heavy, digitally enhanced bass, “I AM YOUR PRIMOGENITOR,” (with emphasis on the OR) and then picks you up and starts bouncing you on his knee.

Here’s a visual:

DSC00335

I’m happy I have primogenitors! Aren’t you?


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Blogger Appreciation

As I sit here with my laptop on this relatively lazy Sunday, (lazy in comparison to the chaos that is Blogging A-Z in April) I’m thinking about how much I appreciate the people who visit me here at Life in Progress, and at my fiction blog, Inspiration in Progress. Over the past couple of years my blogs have grown to what amounts sometimes to a thriving metropolis; a place for like minds and kindred spirits to connect. I write to inspire comments and though I don’t always reply promptly, I enjoy them immensely. What can I say – I love the further inspiration I that comes from your feedback!

WordPress is a huge wealth of entertainment, information, commiseration, and friendship. I’ve talked so much in the past about the sense of community here but it never fails to amaze me how so many people, from so many different countries and cultures can have so much in common. Of course what it boils down to is the fact that we are all the same on the inside. Race has never been, in my eyes, a reason to differentiate, nor has sexual orientation, religious beliefs, nor any of those things which divide our populations. What matters to me is how we behave. Again, it’s all part of being one type of creature – human.

But I digress. Blogging brings us all together. Our lives are intertwined by a platform which allows us to express ourselves however we choose – and I’m grateful for all of those who choose to be part of my community.

Thank you to everyone who has participated in my One-Liner Wednesday and SoCS prompts (even though it takes me a while to read your posts – I really try to keep up!), each of you who visit through the A-Z Challenge, and to all of you who keep coming back. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.


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SoCS – D is for Dexterous

I’m doing a little happy dance. There are 26 left-hand pages in my thesaurus; only eleven of them have entries that start with “de.” I chose the eleventh, and so I’m able to combine the two posts (SoCS and A-Z) into one. Was it dexterity that allowed me to pick a good page? Nah. Blind luck.

Nimble-fingered – that’s me of late. With my shoulder problems (it’s now frozen, by the way. I’m waiting to get a call from the hospital to go for a combination ultrasound/steroid shot) I’ve had to learn ambidexterity. I can’t write with my left still, but I’m learning to eat with it. You think you can use your left hand to manoeuvre a fork but if you’re right handed it means you’ve got a knife in your right hand to help your left out. Without the knife, you use your right. Right? Try using your left hand next time you eat something like macaroni. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

I look to try to be dexterous in many aspects of my life. Some of its synonyms are clever, handy, neat and proficient. Proficiency is such a handy skill to have. (Is that redundant?) I attempt always to cut down on the steps it takes to do something. Tidiness depends on it. Never going up the stairs empty-handed is something I strive for.

And with writing too – less is more. Proficiency or dexterity in grammar makes the difference between something that’s easily readable and text that goes on forever, saying nothing or worse, repeating itself.

How do you strive to be dexterous?

 

This post is part of SoCS:

Badge by: Doobster at Mindful Digressions

Badge by: Doobster at Mindful Digressions

Please join in today!! https://lindaghill.com/2015/04/03/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-415/

And the A-Z Challenge:

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

BATZAP by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions


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C is for Commit

As you probably know, my words for this A-Z Challenge are coming at random from my thesaurus. I’m absolutely committed to sticking to the rule I set for myself to take whatever word I open the book to that is the second from the bottom on the left-hand page. This will not, by the way, apply to the letters X and Y and Z- there aren’t enough pages for those letters. But I digress. My main concern today for the letter C was one particular entry that just happens to be the second-last letter in the left hand column on page 104:

CAM00650

Yes, this could have been the word of the day. It was with a grimace and a prayer to the word gods of the planet Thesauri that I gingerly parted the pages of my big red book and believe me, it was with a sigh of relief that I discovered I wouldn’t have to talk about cocks. Luck was on my side; I landed instead on page 108 and the word “commit.”

I think to a certain extent we all have things that we’re compulsive over. One of my biggest compulsions is that I must stick to a commitment. I may even be worse–more determined–with the commitments I make to myself, though I’m pretty fierce when it comes to doing whatever I promised someone else I’d do. Which is why it just about kills me when I can’t keep up with these challenges I set for myself.

One of the synonyms for “commit” is “imprison.” I do, in a way, imprison myself when I dedicate myself to something. I box myself in but that’s really not all that bad. For an unemployed (at least in a 9-5 sense) woman, structure isn’t something my days are filled with. Yes, I have to get up when the rooster crows (see what I did there?) for my kids, and I have to be here when they come home, but what of the space in between when they’re at school? A commitment to something consigns me to a task. In the case of this particular commitment–blogging–you, my friends, are my overseers.

I wouldn’t let us down unless under duress.

What, apart from your family and your job are you committed to? And how far would you go to honour your commitment? I’d love to know.

 


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B is for Bemused

Bemused… not to be confused with amused. I must admit, I used to think they meant the same thing but they don’t.

Bemused is what I am much of the time. As a writer, when I get caught up in something I’m working on, I often become absent-minded, dazed, distracted, and befuddled. (Don’t you just love a good thesaurus?)

Stress can cause a certain amount of bemusement. Once I have something stuck in my noggin that is causing me anxiety it’s like everything else around me ceases to matter. Stuff I’m actually physically doing gets done with the least amount of thought, much to the detriment of dry sleeves, clean floors, healthy toes, and undented fenders. No, I haven’t gone there yet, at least not because I’ve been distracted, but I’ve come close. What driver hasn’t? It’s a real eye-opener when it does almost happen though.

A good end to bemusement.

Being bemused is the cause of walking into a room and having no idea why I’m there. Or losing something I had in my hand only a second ago, making me wonder if I’m losing my mind… which I am, to bemusement.

According to this wonderful book I have sitting beside me, it’s also a synonym for tipsy and half-drunk. There’s something I can relate to, though not as often as I’m simply lost in my thoughts.

And so I try to focus; live in the moment, stay aware of my surroundings and what I’m doing. It’s harder than it seems and takes quite a bit of practice. We live inside our minds as much, if not more, than we live inside our bodies. Take reading, or watching a movie for instance. When we’re really into something, the rest of the world disappears. Ceases to exist. Until someone taps us on the shoulder or spills popcorn in our lap. But then that’s not bemusement. It’s concentration. Isn’t it?

No, I believe bemusement is more introverted. It’s self-absorption that can rise to a most dangerous level.

Which is not amusing in the slightest.


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A is for Aisle

Clean up in aisle two!

Don’t you hate it when you go into a store and the displays are set up so that the aisles are barely wide enough to get your cart through? And God forbid you should have a double stroller with two toddlers! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to back out of the narrow corridor that makes up the cereal section or worse, the cookies I just barely got my kids past in the first place.

I don’t understand why retailers can’t grasp the concept that shoppers are more likely to knock over their little cardboard shelving units than buy something off them. We don’t see the products on them – what we see are obstacles!

The above is my off-the-cuff response to my word of the day, found at random in my thesaurus on the left-hand, chosen-at-random page under “A”, second word from the bottom. I have, however, learned something new from this exercise.

One of the synonyms under the word “aisle” is the word “ambulatory.” As someone who has spent a great deal of time in hospitals, I’ve often heard the word in medical terms, as an adjective meaning to be able to walk or get around under one’s own steam. But apparently, used as a noun, it also means “a place to walk.”

Who knew?

Armed with this new knowledge, you can be sure the manager at my local grocery store will hear about it the next time he sticks an obstruction in the middle of the damned ambulatory.

Clean up in ambulatory two! Lady no longer ambulatory!