Free Fallin'

So here's what happened this evening.

I went to the home of a couple, long time students of mine, to give them a private dance lesson before they left town for a wedding. They're just breaking speed in West Coast Swing, their fourth dance.

We were coming to the end of the lesson and I was explaining how at the wedding they will likely be able to fit WCS into much of the music. As an example of how to use the music to create the dance, I played Free Fallin', the Tom Petty cover by John Mayer.

Oh how the dance angels descended upon this pair! It was magical. Lost was the concentration on left or right, or 1, 2, 3 & 4. They danced. They melted into the music, they moved as one, the room became quite small.

It was an emotional moment I don't think any of us saw coming.

I remember my time at the Damn the Torpedoes concert as a 15 year old. And with that same appreciative but more wise heart, I shall remember my time feeling Tom Petty free fallin' into eternal grace.

Thank you J & R.

Funny How Things Work Out

It's been well over a year that I have been teaching dance at Maverick's and I am there every Friday night.  Tonight is an exception and it's a little strange but it actually worked out for the best.  Funny how the Universe looks after us like that.

This afternoon, Pinkie was at the vet having a laceration tended to.  When I picked her up, she was still very groggy from the sedation, her right front paw bandaged--they even used pink wrap!--and she had a cone, or crown, on her head to prevent her from pulling off her bandage and chewing on her sutures.

Her walk to the car was noticeably crooked.  Rather than put her in the way back where the dogs usually ride, it was easier to load her into the back seat.  She was much happier to be closer to me and let's face, the leather seat felt better than the mat in the back.  On the short ride home, she managed to tip over and I heard it, "crinkle. crunch."  I had stopped at Trader Joe's before picking her up and got another bag of those addicting potato chips.  She landed face first into the grocery bag.

Pinkie definitely required help getting up the stairs but more than that, help maneuvering with the crown on her head.  Bodie had no idea what to make of her and he wanted to cuddle with her but she was too out of it to realize that.

The vet gave me a plastic bag, what was originally a drip solution bag, to put over her paw if she went outside to keep the vet wrap dry and clean.  I thought Bodie and I could sneak out and feed the horses some lunch while Pink slept it off, but no, she staggered to the stairs and once again, required assistance, this time going down.

The dog door.  A cone-headed dog doesn't fit through it.  She couldn't comprehend that so it required backing her up from the door so I could open it in and let her out.  She whined while Bodie and I quickly did our chores and we rushed back in to be with her.  My boss needed a contract reviewed so I managed to squeeze in two hours of editing and writing.

As the afternoon wore on, Pinkie got a little more mobile and decided to go to her favorite place: under my bed.  Crash.  That was the crown banging up against the rails on my bed as she persisted.  Thankfully she relented after a few tries.  As she came back in the living room, Pooker took off flying across the room because the crown scared her.  This cycle happened several times over the next two hours.

When I went out to feed dinner and lock in the hens (I cannot thank the heavens enough for how easy that was tonight) before leaving for my lesson, Pinkie was a bit more alert and really wanted out of the dog yard.  So, again I put on her durable plastic bag and let her follow me.  Mistake.  I forgot how the horses reacted before when sweet Felon had a crown on her head.  Snorting and prancing, the horses wanted to figure out what the heck that beast was!  Then Shadow and Pippin were taken aback--that was short lived.  The hens were running around us and Pinkie was in a panic sensing everyone's discomfort.  Okay, back to the dog yard.

The nearly $200 vet bill took a lot of out me, in addition to my $65 oil change, so I coaxed Pinkie to her blanket on the sofa and I closed my eyes for 20 minutes.  Sort of peace and quiet.  Just before that, Pooker flew again as Pinkie walked by but she landed on the windowsill and was tripping on the view so I let her be.

As I got myself put together to head out, Pinkie was either getting stuck behind a door as she banged it closed on her way through or she'd stand there with half of her crown behind the door and other half exposed wanting to proceed forward.  Assistance required.

I left the dogs in the living area of the house when I left.  If just Bodie were outside, Pinkie would probably bark and whine and if I left Pinkie outside she wouldn't have been able to come into the garage through the dog door.  It hasn't been since a cold night last winter that they were left in the house alone.  And was she going to have any late reaction to the medication?  Did she go pee pee when we were out?  Had her system slowed down with the sedation and would she suddenly need to go out?

As I was driving to Maverick's I was reminded of the pain in my lower back.  I have no idea what I did today but Tiger Balm, heating pad and Tylenol still have not kicked it down.  It hurts.

Then I started receiving messages and texts that the power was out at Maverick's.  Apparently an entire section of town was out.  As it's just a short drive away and no one was quite certain when the power would come back on, I decided to keep going.  There was a group of us gathered in the parking lot.  A few people came over from the dance studio and The Elks Club because the power was out too and they were hoping to dance tonight like the rest of us.  What a social half hour that was!  We laughed, we listened to music on someone's phone, we researched the bird that was diving in and around us, a Nighthawk, and we talked dance.  Playful.  That was one of the cards I drew today.

The word came down that the power wouldn't be on until at least 10:30 so my lesson was canceled.  Then word came down that the DJ was leaving, so there would be no music.  Then the cook left, so no chance of french fries even if they did open.

We all bid adieu to one another and most of us headed back home--some without power.

As I was driving back, it was darker than when I had left and I could see just how wide the outage area was.  It reached into Tumalo and the dividing line was just a couple of houses before my street.  Back home I came, all was in order.  Bodie was happy to go back outside.  Pinkie was happy to have me by her side.  And momma was happy to reapply the heating pad and know all was well.

These Boots Are Made For Walking...

Taking a moment, as I do throughout the day, to appreciate the good in my life, I noted how I could feel in my legs how much they have done for me today.

Morning yoga
Morning chores
Morning 2 mile walk with the poodles
Raking pine needles and cones
Weeding
Watering the deck garden and the lawn
Laundering horse blankets
Trip into Tumalo for a quick shop
Mid-day chores
Two hours of dance classes
Evening chores
A touch of housework

Oh yes, I am grateful for the strength in my legs and feet and for good shoes and clean socks.  Next I'll add foot lotion and a supportive bed to my list.

Go Ahead. Just Rip My Heart Out

Hate is a very ugly word and if the Dalai Lama can give me a better word to describe this feeling I have, I will use it.  In the meantime, I hate coyotes.

This evening I lost three hens, not including Karen earlier in the week.  And what about Dumpling's injuries which led to her death a few weeks back?  In my deepest of prayers, I ask that two of those hens are up in a tree somewhere and will be back tomorrow.  The fate of the third is certain.

After a very stimulating three hour dance workshop followed by a well deserved enjoyable early dinner with my friend Kim and then a quick stop and try on of many at the essential oils section of Whole Foods, I made my way back home.  As I pulled in the driveway, Red and Honey were coming toward me.  I did think it a bit strange that they would be headed in my direction at 7:45pm but then again, the days are getting longer, so I passed it off as that.

I came in the house to change and then head out to do my evening chores.  It was still plenty light out.  As I came to the hay shed, Honey was perched up on a board and settled in as if to sleep there.  Strange.  And I passed that off as wondering if she was not feeling well again.  I scooped her up and brought her home and as we approached the hen house, she squawked and squirmed.  Why were there only five hens in the house?  Red wasn't there so I passed that off as him being out escorting the last few girls back home.

From out in the dry lot, I heard a rumpus from my neighbor's hen house.  Could have just been the hens settling down for the night except that both Bodie and Pinkie were keying in on something in the air and they were both at the fence on alert.  I called Aaron to ask if his hens were locked in and he told me more or less but that they have lost a few over the past weeks.  Just as he said that, I saw two coyote walking toward his hen house.  In my strongest voice possible that could carry over the rushing canal, I yipped for them to move along.  Aaron was out of town fighting fires being set by a pesky arsonist up in Montana but when he comes back tomorrow, he will set out with his bow and arrow with the intention of taking out a coyote or two.

Hanging up from Aaron, I turned around to notice Red sitting up on the rail of the tack room.  The previous hints of something amiss were passed off, but this was too strange.  I walked him back to the hen house, counted my hens again, closed up the door and started looking around.

I found black and white feathers of one of my Barred Rock hens on both sides of the fence by the hen house.  On the other side, there was a significant pile of them that told me the hen was snatched near the fence on my side, carried over and disposed of on the other side.

The sun was setting and seeing clearly through my tears was becoming a challenge.  I couldn't find any other feathers nearby.  But who was it?  It was either Baby or Alice, my two oldest girls, or Precious, one of my first year babies.

It still leaves two hens unaccounted for, not forgetting Karen.  They would be another one of the Barred Rock hens and either Cat or Helen, one of my Rhode Island Reds.  The hens in the house were tucked in and under so I couldn't tell which one of those were in the house and who was missing.

It is always heart breaking to lose an animal; goodness knows I've said that before.  But to come home and find three of your hens gone, it just rips your heart straight from its safe place behind the ribcage and dangles it out as coyote bait.

Attracting Abundance

As I anoint myself with my Young Living Abundance essential oil, I specify to the universe the type of abundance I seek.  Think about it...if you just sent out a general intention of abundance, it could be an abundance of parking tickets, bruised bananas, popped buttons!

The last couple of weeks have been interesting in this regard.  I booked two private teaching events for May, I've welcomed returning private students, the gal at the car wash gave me a $20 bill that she said she found under my front seat, a friend gave me a generous gift, and I received a bonus from work!

So as today is rather windy and I'm a bit foggy from a very late night and early morning, I've decided to go through my mail.  I don't do this as often as I should.

A notice from Delta inviting me to use the last of my miles on magazines was one piece of unopened mail.  I've already used these on magazines but it seems using them before has somehow generated more miles because I just placed my order for 300 weeks of the WSJ (I miss that newspaper), a year of Entertainment Weekly and The Economist.  Shhhh, I whisper to you that the invitation had a deadline which had passed but the return message said my subscriptions were being processed.

There was an invitation from Nielsen to complete a survey on my television habits.  I started to tear it up for the recycle bin when it struck me as possibly a fun thing to do, so I opened it.  There were two very crisp $1 bills in there as a thank you for completing the survey!  I had missed the survey deadline it seems, but as they were kind enough to send me $2, I thought it my duty to attempt to complete the survey.

Another piece of mail contained a $20 discount on a seafood order from Omaha Steaks.  The Seafood Sampler would be far more food than I could handle, or rather my freezer could handle, but my friend April is happy to share the order with me so we each get a reasonable portion of good quality seafood at a very good discounted price, plus the discount!

Last night at Maverick's, in addition to the wonderful people I see there regularly, two students who have been traveling for over a month came in to let me know they were back and ready to resume lessons, my physician was there, and a student from four years ago was there.  Funny to have such connections all there on the same night.

So, I shall be very clear about my intentions for abundance as I would like time to read my new subscriptions and prepare for the next Nielsen survey, but not too much time!

Chill Factor

Now, I understand how you might be thinking this is in reference to the weather, but it is not.

Chill Factor is a 48 count line dance that has very few repeating steps.  I used to dance it years ago with my friends in Long Beach and I've been itching to dance it again up here.  After a few frustrating starts of getting reacquainted, it came back to me.

Tonight, I taught a class strictly on Chill Factor.  It is a challenge.  It can make you stomp your feet--not part of the choreography.  It can get your head turned around so much that you have no idea which way you're going.  And when you get it, it can make your legs fly and your heart sing!

The dance floor was crowded tonight.  The dancing was on.

I like my Friday nights.

Utterly Foul

My favorite part of coming home a little before 1am from a good night of dancing was to realize that that utterly foul smell that was tracked in by one of the dogs earlier in the evening remained.

I had already cleaned up the spots that ran up the stairs.  What else?  Then I discovered the source.

Even before getting my coat off, I had Bodie between my knees as I brushed, washed and cut out a serious collection of pooh on his furry little butt!  It was some intense mouth breathing.  I wiggled him over to the sink so I could wet another paper towel.  When it became obvious that more serious measures were called for, I wiggled him over to the scissors.

Pinkie would have no part of this circus.  She was tucked in under my bed.

After Febreze room spray and then Febreze fabric spray,  putting the "green" wipes back and pulling out the 409, the malodorous air lingered.  I found some remnants around the carpet and in the kitchen; it was easy to track where he had been over the course of the evening.

He may be fierce when someone approaches the gate but my little Bodie has the most gentle heart.  He's sound asleep beside me--I'm such a good mom--and before passing out, he looked up at me a few times with soft eyes and a titled head as if to say, "I'm sorry I have a smelly butt, mom.  Thanks for cleaning me up."

Pee-ew!

1:11

When I pulled out of Maverick's parking lot this evening, or this morning, it was 1:11am.  I thought, "Oh Noelle, pay attention to those numbers!"  Something is amiss.

It was a first, I believe, for me to leave at such an hour.  My feet are actually sore and feeling well spent.

The drive home was mine.  Only 3 other cars on the road between the tired dance floor and the return to my animals.  The sky was radiant with moonshine and the clouds were remnants of a recent rain shower.  In between the billowy sky characters, the stars and planets were peeking out.  To really make the moment clutch, I was listening to a little Cheryl Lynn, Got to Be Real, on my 70s on 7, courtesy of Sirius XM.

After getting inside and being greeted by the dogs who have no sense of time, something told me to step onto the deck and just listen.  Maybe Scout, my reliable Great Horned Owl, would be around.  Now, the clouds were really thinning out, much like a celestial archipelago.  The air refreshed by the light rainfall.  The earth had softened under the sunny agreeable days of late, and it is such a rich, fertile smell, one of sprouting life not far off.

And then, hmmmmm?  What is that most unusual sound?  It sounds like it's coming from the goat pen.  With my super sized mag light I looked out and I could the reflector patch on Alibi's rain sheet, in the goat pen.  I just had that feeling that my evening was not going to be considered complete without additional horse and goat love.

So, at 1:30am with a change of clothes and rubber boots to navigate the mud, I head out to assess the tomfoolery of my hoofed ones.  They really did it!  I cannot begin to imagine how or who but the panel attached to the tin sided goat shed was pulled away, straps broken, and completely perpendicular to the perimeter fence.  When things are secure, the panels meet at a V and create a haven for my goodles.  It was the most preposterous arrangement.  And so, enter the horses, or shall I say King Alibi, to shoo away the cashmered ones in order to eat their hay.

On my way out to the dry lot, I passed my little sleepy goodles giving me a drowsy "ma'aaaa" from inside the horse shelter.  The big bad boys had chased the little bad boys from their pen and they were telling me of the injustice.

Fortunately, that 1:11 was telling me I've got time but don't dawdle.  From the amount of the remaining hay in the feed bag, it could be reasoned that their seizure of the otherwise cordoned goat domain was recent.  Whew! A greedy consumption of herbage by one dominant equine averted.

Thinking about the clock, I took advantage of being out there and spread some green love for my Arab princes.  I am hopeful I can take advantage of a little extra shut-eye on a weekend morning as well.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Pages In The Journey

Charley Miller and me, Swinging with the Stars 2012

People's Choice and Dameon Award winners

Free of injury, illness and obstacles.  Thank you Universe.  Thank you Ganesh.

Thank you to all who supported us during these past few months.  Thank you to all who were able to come to the show.  Thank you for the emails and messages last night and today.  Thank you Charley, my friend.

With entire sincerity, I can tell you how proud I am of this moment.  Charley is the most respectful, punctual, dedicated, and protective partner.  He made this win happen.  There is no feigning modesty here.

We were paired at a time when staying present was impossible for me.  My plate was spilling over.  Adding just one pea more had me on the brink.  And when that pea was counting on me to make room on my plate, I resented it.  Couldn't this morsel understand that the only space I had was beside my plate?

I went back and forth on my decision to participate in the competition this year.  At the time I said yes, it made sense.  A few things shifted and suddenly I found myself in a position I was not capable of handling to the best of my abilities.

And so life's journey goes.  It is said that when we are ready for the lesson, the teacher appears.

Once I settled the inner conflict and restated to myself my decision to be Charley's partner, I then had to develop my strategy.  How was I going to do this when my brain was overtaxed and my heart was closed for business?

All the while as the chatter of my inside voices got louder and louder, I would meet Charley twice a week to practice.  He was there, ready, willing, vulnerable and extremely devoted to the commitment he made to the charity and to his supporters.

In a rare moment, when the voices drowned each other out into a silence, I saw this. 

I sought refuge in my yoga room, under a soothing dim light, enveloped in rich Indian incense, grounded on my mat, calling on my Angels, Spirit Guides, Masters and Gurus for guidance, for clarity, for confidence.  I reached out to family and friends and divulged my fears.  I listened to Pema Chodron over and over grasping at the concept of Shenpa.

I embraced an empowering daily affirmation.  I repeated one of my favorite mantras, "I choose love." 

The fog began to lift.  My path illumined.  My trust in my journey reinforced.  Numbers started to appear. 

With each practice, Charley's steadiness demanded I reach deep down inside and pull out what I knew I had.  He deserved that.

Over the months that we met to develop a routine that was fitting to both of us, my plate was clearing.  It didn't get bigger.  It tilted.  The things that no longer served my highest good slipped right off into oblivion.  The more it tilted, the more space I had for that pea to jump on, roll around in comfort, unrestricted by what was. 

When we are allowed space, when we give ourselves and each other space, extraordinary things happen.

Without Charley and our time together, I very well might be sitting with a plate on the verge of cracking under the weight of impediments.  Charley won the Mirrorball trophy he so deserved and I won another stepping stone in this enthralling journey. 

Let It Rain

Rain.

May your moisture hydrate our desert-parched skin.

May your drops multiply to blanket our fires.

May your puddles seep to the roots of our trees.

Thank you for hearing our call.

Shall we dance again?