Young and Useless

That's how I feel. I want to get a job. That is, I want to get a full time job in addition to the ponies. There are people to be had to do the simple pony chores on the days when I'm away. So what's the issue? Day care. How do people afford that nonsense? Ain't nobody got time for that!

How is it that I can't afford to have a regular full time job unless I'm getting paid A LOT? I am not qualified for that sort of nonsense. Sure, I have two bachelor's degrees but so does everyone else and their grandmother. I can't afford to get my masters and the only degree I want is pretty useless in terms of getting a job and making money in the short or long term.

It's not that we're behind on bills or struggling to pay our mortgage. The Air Force provides fantastic benefits for which I am eternally grateful BUT when one (or both) of our computers inevitably dies, we won't be able to run out and get a decent replacement. My personal car is our giant diesel truck and...well... it's fun and all but dear lord. Sometimes I don't want to drive that thing around. Sometimes I want to be able to turn in less than a year. Sometimes I don't want to have to pay $8/gallon (kidding...kind of) for diesel and have my truck only get like 2 MPG (kidding again. mostly). I want to be able to afford a tiny little car payment for a tiny little car. The truck also has this annoying habit of breaking so, like right now, I have no car. Every time I want to spend any money, like on a haircut every 6 months, Tim throws a hissy fit (that may or may not be accurate). I'm tired of being on financial lockdown. And you know what? It's not like I want to buy tons of stuff. I just don't want to have to worry about affording the 'what ifs'. And if my sweetie wants to fix up the house, I want to be able to say, "Sure, sweetie! Let's get that fancy tile. It's so pretty!" Instead of saying, "We'll take the beige linoleum..*sob*"

I drive this. Or, rather, I drive an older, redder model of this truck.

I want to drive this. 

Tim mentioned that we are freaks because we had kids so young. He reminded me that normal young couples focus on their careers and buy a tiny house and then, when they're older, they have kids. Clearly, we did this backward. So now what are couples like us supposed to do? I would be spending half or more of my paycheck on day care and that doesn't even go into the usual costs of commuting.

What about couples who don't have even one good job between them? Does one of them watch the kids and the other work the street corner at night? I feel like we're lucky because Tim is a total badass Air Force machine. He's the kind of guy who could walk into a bakery and get a job without an interview or baking skills because he's just that capable. He exudes, to an irritating extent, a feeling of extreme competence. He walks at the speed of excellence at all times.

There's also the emotional aspect to the whole thing. Tim works hard. I want to help! I want to not be useless. Sure, I do laundry and dishes (most of the time) and keep the kids alive. I am irked by the fact that I am a prime young specimen and I'm not pulling my weight in this household.

What am I doing about it, you say? Well I'm a professionally trained bartender and I've been tirelessly searching for and applying to jobs that will allow me to utilize minimal childcare services (i.e. night shift). I won't make a ton of money but it'll help. I'm also amassing a substantial pile of rejection letters for a few stories I've been submitting to agents. Tim has suggested getting a real job, like teaching, once the kids are both in school. That's still 4 years off so that's not exactly a short term solution.

So there you go. It's Taterz's quest to become a contributing member of society. We'll see how it goes.

I either want to be a waitress or a veterinarian...

...I said when I was seven.

I pretend to be a fairly laid back person but inside I'm a ball of anxiety. It's been that way forever. Some things get me worked up, or used to, because my dad died when I was four but mostly, it's just because of me. Like whenever I really liked one of my mom's friends I would always ask how old they were. If they were in their 20s or 30s I would relax. It meant they wouldn't die soon. I'm completely serious. I never told anyone that this was why I asked but for a long time I had a morbid fear that everyone was just going to die.

I also felt serious concern about what I was going to be when I grew up. I felt like it was REALLY IMPORTANT to figure this out. It kept me up at night and made my tummy hurt, it made me so nervous. Seriously. So, since I fancied myself a smart person, I wanted to be something important. I wanted to have a real career. But I really liked the way waitresses can carry big trays of food around so I wanted to do that during the day and be a vet at night.

I also considered being an ornithologist for a while but I gave that up after I realized I don't give a crap about birds.

When I was about 10, I started getting worried about what I would later realize was my legacy. I looked at some of the people in my life and thought about how after they were gone, there would be nothing left to show they had ever existed. Sure, their friends would remember them, but some day they would be gone, too. I had to do something that mattered, I decided. Something that would make people remember me. My dad's company is still in existence and my mom is still involved with it. It was shortly after that I found out that you can be a writer. I didn't realize that was a 'thing'. My uncle is a very successful writer and he's the one who clued me in.

I had spent all afternoon writing a story and my mom was cooing over it, like a mommy should, and my uncle happened to be there. She asked if I wanted to be a writer like Uncle Jon and after they cleared up my confusion about that being an actual profession, all of my anxiety was suddenly lifted. That's what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I wrote constantly. My mom even let me have the crappy old computer and printer in my room and I would leave new chapters on my sister's pillow to edit. She was so saintly and gentle in her criticisms. She's still my first consideration when I write. I went to writer's camps in high school over the summer and I wrote a novella for a project in 8th grade and again for my honors college thesis at UVM. One of the professors at my defense was the dean of the honors college, and aside from being an intimidating and incredibly well-spoken individual, she said (I was pregnant with Charlie at the time) that I don't have to just be a mom. I should go to grad school and keep writing and that I have a future in this. Lately, with my growing stack of rejection letters, I try to remember that day and the encouragement those women gave me.

Aside from writing, I've got ponies in my blood. I'm a third generation pony-obsessor. Right about the same time as I was working out what to be when I grew up, I developed a fascination with 'bressage'. I was trying to say Dressage. I announced that I wanted to breed horses and have a huge barn. My mom laughed at me. She wasn't trying to be mean but it seemed silly, probably. We are an Endurance family and our ponies were tough creatures who didn't live in stalls or have blankets or constant treats or a well-groomed arena in which to train.

Well, that's what we have now. I spend hours and hours looking at pedigrees and pictures and videos of stallions I like. I stand and just watch my mares, developing a vision for the foal I'm trying to produce. Sometimes I just stand at the entrance of the barn listening to the sounds and inhaling the scents, and feeling the wave of contentment wash over me.

Something occurred to me recently, which is why I wrote this post. When I was at one of the writer's programs, the person assigned to help me with my project said I was the most prolific and dedicated young writer she had ever met. Aside from being honored by this compliment, I was confused. Doesn't everyone do this? She said she expected me to burn out at any moment but that the chapters kept coming. It was effortless. And lately, when I've been having trouble balancing these obsessions with my marriage, Tim said something to the effect that I'm pretty neurotic about everything I do. He wasn't trying to be mean or anything. He was right.

I thought about that for a while. I am neurotic. With the things I love, I dive in 1000%. He worries that I stretch myself too thin but I just feel good. And so as I'm settling into this life and as the anxieties of my childhood start to fade away, I'm realizing that this is who I am. The anxiety hasn't gone away. I've simply put it to work. I'm about to turn 25 and I'm living my dream. Sometimes (ok, all the time) I feel guilty that my dream has caused Tim to make many sacrifices. I only hope that in the end he thinks it's been worth it. When we look back on our lives, there will be so many stories (even if no one reads them) and generations of horses whose pedigrees have our names on them under Breeder. We've had two incredible children and we're still itching for more.

Tim's a practical person. He hasn't known what he's wanted to do his whole life. He works hard and he has hobbies but no passions, aside from the kids. He's the best dad and a loyal, patient, and faithful husband. If I was married to someone like me, we would probably both burn out. He keeps me grounded and holds me back (in a GOOD way) so I don't go too crazy. He keeps my perspective grounded in reality, which is something I very frequently need. I always ask his opinion even about the silliest things. I hope that I, in turn, can help him find something to obsess a little about, aside from the Eagles and video games. I hope I can successfully show him that he's the reason any of this has come about. It sounds like an extended Valentine's Day project.

I Feel Special

Tim and I don't have many friends. At least not "hang out with as a couple" kind of friends. The kind of friends you expect to see every weekend. Even then we have so much crap to do we only end up hanging out about every third weekend anyway.

These friends are a perfect couple. Adorable, smart, nerdy and she's totally hot. He's cute but he's one of those that gets cuter the more you get to know him. It was obvious that they would get married when they first got together a couple years ago and--finally!--they're engaged.

I'm beyond excited.

She has many, many sisters so I was just hoping for an invite to the girl parties and I fully anticipated having a great time at the wedding. I have been deeply honored to be included as a bridesmaid. I really have been so grateful to have this most excellent young woman as part of my life and it's so exciting to be apart of their special day. Tim is the best man as well so we're feeling pretty mushy about the whole thing.

I almost feel bad for the amount of ridiculous that will be the bachelor party. Tim doesn't half ass that sort of thing.

This also means I plan on recording party planning details here. It's going to be epic. CAN'T WAIT!

7 Cold Weather Must Haves

It's cold.

We all know it's cold.

"But, Taterz, how do I keep from being miserable while it's a hellish winter tundra outside?"

Normally, I would advise you to stay inside. Drink some tea, snuggle in a blankie, maybe grab a cat or a kid, or both. Or, if you're like me or you have some other miserable profession that involves being outside, you can bundle up. I'm not just talking layers, people. This game is about quality over quantity. If you're trying to work outside, you generally need the use of your arms. Or you may need to bend your legs. Or move your head.

In no particular order, here are my top Cold Weather Must Haves without which I would end up looking like Jack Torrence at the end of The Shining.

1. A Serious Pair of Socks. They must go up to my knees, or at least close, and they can't be too bulky but they have to get the job done. My favorites are from Sierra Trading Post. I personally recommend the Icebreaker Ski Midweight socks and the SmartWool PhD Graduated Compression socks.

2. Waterproof boots. I do pony things. I wear pony boots. The part around the foot is rubber and the calf is made out of neoprene. I can break ice on troughs and buckets with my feet but my toesies stay nice and dry. I am a serious advocate for The Original Muckboot.Company.

3. Pants. I don't wear snowpants. They're too loud. I wear a good pair of leggings with sweatpants over them. Jeans get too cold and if you try to wear leggings under them, they keep falling down, and there are very few things less attractive or comfortable than having your tush exposed to bitter winter cold. My favorite leggings are high waisted (better for effective layering) and thick cotton. The best pair I currently own are from American Apparel but the base layer fitness tights from Sierra Trading Post would do just as well. The sweatpants will insulate the thin base layer but won't come back into direct contact with your legs, which keeps the cold out and the warms in.

4. Cold Weather Under Armor. I wear a long sleeved specimen with a t-shirt over top. They're expensive but they get the job done.

5. Hat. My mom calls them 'head sweaters'. I call them awesome. My favorite ever is Tim's North Face hat. I think he hid it from me so I can't steal it anymore. That and it freaks him out when I put it on and transform into an unfortunate looking 14 year old boy. You can't go wrong with some ear gear either. I know people get pissed off about how trendy North Face is. Honestly, I don't care. When it's cold and you're out in it for hours every day, it gets r done. As you can see, this particular hat is lined with fleece for extra warms for your ears.

6. Jackets. I wear a hoodie and a jacket. The hood goes over my minimalist hat situation and seals in the additional warms and keeps the wind from freezing my tender neck parts. The jacket is on the light side and I can do all sorts of flexible things. I know puffer jackets are pretty great and they're easy to clean but I hate loud winter clothes. And I personally feel that cloth hoods do a better job of 1) staying on my head even in the wind and 2) keep me from going deaf with the constant plastic rustling. I was the very lucky recipient of many Carhartt gifts this past holiday season. My "over" jacket is lined with fleece and is capable of rendering a stray pony nip into nothing more than a passing tickle.

7. Gloves. I've found this item particularly difficult. My gloves have to be light enough to let me do persnickety hooks, gates, and clasps, but warm enough to keep my paws from freezing while doing stalls or driving the tractor. And I have to be able to use my iPhone. I have no idea what my current gloves are called but they do all these things. They are also lined with faux fur.

I know people get mad when someone says to them, "Stay warm!" as though they have any control over it. But now you do! So stay warm! Dammit! Don't forget, You Can Has.

It'll be spring soon and I'll be dragging myself along the ground in a slothy puddle of sweat. I can't wait.

It's Winter, Again

The weather was freakishly wonderful for a little while. It was about two weeks of 40s and 50s with no wind and warm nights. And then it rained for three days and nights. It turned into Swamp Land around here. It figures that right before the weather goes yucky, Little P and I get started into canter work. She was wonderful. Calm, sweet, willing, soft, and really fun.

I'm not a trainer. I'm just a goof who likes to ride ponies. I need validation. I'm pretty sure that I'm ruining my horses with my mediocre riding. Oh well. I'm the one who has to deal with it. When Little P was just coming back into work, we didn't make it out of the walk for a few weeks. She spent the first several rides trying to teleport out from under me, her head straight up into the air, spooking at everything, and constantly trying to hit the gas. I get excited when I think back on the progress we've made. It makes me feel like something I'm doing may be correct.

Little P is a hunter pony and a good hunter pony is easy. She needs to give her rider a fun ride, forward but not rushing. Supple and uncomplicated. At least, this is what I think makes a good hunter. Right now she's still way too forward for a kid to ride, but she's getting there.

The walk is pretty solid. Low head, good tempo, relaxed. The trot has improved quite a bit. There's flexing and bending, responding to outside aids. The cantering was better than I thought it would be. I thought she would take off when I kissed to her but she stepped into a perfectly mannerly canter. I went a little crazy with the praise.

Then of course it rained. And rained. And rained.

So yesterday I took her into the swamp arena and taught her Lunging 101. The puddles were all gone but the footing was so saturated it was like walking on whipped cream. Orange mud whipped cream. It wasn't slippery, but I had no idea how gunky it was until I dropped the lunge whip and almost lost it.

Little P was great. She was doing what she thought was right and as soon as she figured out that I wanted her to move out, she did so very enthusiastically. We switched directions and she was perfect so I quit. She was orange up to her hocks.

Today the sun came out. Finally. It's been a long ass week. I need a drink.

Taterz Makes Baguettes

It's been a while since my last bread post. I've made many, many loaves of bread since then. Some for parties, holidays, but most of them just because. Everyone likes a warm slice of fresh made bread with a healthy serving of lasagna. I've had lots of compliments on the Tater Baguette so I thought I'd share it.

Makes 2 baguettes.
4+ cups of bread flour
2 packets yeast
2 cups warm water
1.5 teaspoons salt, plus a pinch more

Put 2 cups of the flour in a bowl. Mix in the yeast and salt. Add the warm water and mix. Then add enough flour until you have a ball of dough that doesn't try to cling to the bowl or your hands. Turn out the dough onto a floured surface. I tend to go a little crazy with the flour here but I find it helps. I put flour on the dough, too, in case it changes its mind and wants to stay sticky. Knead the dough for about 8 minutes.

Put a little oil in a bowl and put the dough in.

Cover and let sit somewhere warm for about an hour, or until doubled.

Punch down dough. It should be super fluffy and soft.

Turn it out onto the floured surface and divide. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

Roll out the dough into a big square. I usually make mine about 12x12 inches. Sprinkle with big grain salt, garlic, and italian seasoning. You could also do roasted or minced garlic, nuts, or seeds. Whatever you end up putting in your baguette, apply generously.

Roll up the dough tightly and place seam down onto a greased baking tray.

Let rise for another 45 minutes. Preheat oven to 375 and make four shallow, diagonal cuts in the baguettes. Bake for 40 minutes. The crust should be golden brown and it should sound hollow when you knock on the bottom.

These also make awesome leftovers as toasted garlic bread or decadent french toast, if you left them plain.

Hey There Sweet Cheeks

Whenever we feel someone is getting a bit uppity, pony or otherwise, we're all like, "WHOA. WHOA. Slow your roll. Sir. Sir."

Coming Up Soon...

Some serious baguette action. Get ready for some bread making goodness sans the bread machine. It's just flour, love, and a moderate amount of hand strength.