It was great to have hours filling in as an instructor. Jill had said goodbye at the vet job, just a few days after helping to lift a frozen dead dog, that would't fit easily, into a vehicle. They'd lifted him from a yellow stain in the snow behind the clinic, and it haunted her because she had thought over and over the afternoon before she'd heard whining but she couldn't find the source. She'd done nothing for him as he died. She used to joke that only animal HATERS should be vets, because of all the hard things one had to do and the heartache to bear... But after so many months in the role she didn't feel like joking about it anymore, she felt like moving into a new line of work.
Before leaving the farm, Jill helped with the stalls and had laughed with the coworkers announcement "its amazing what a superskid one can take on the ice without hurting anything because the muscles underneath all the layers and layers of clothes are so warmed up by hard work." Her mind wandered to how the guy she still hoped would become a new boss had teased her on the first warm day of the season. "Don't you know how to dress?" She was wearing too many layers to impress the other guests/possible dates, she guessed, but only as he said it. She realized how long she'd looked the same no matter where she went: jeans, boots, tank and top. Makeupless, untrimmed and possibly even unwashed? Ug.
They had talked about the beatings, lash and spur marks, girth rubs, broken teeth, empty water buckets, dusty hay, mouldy grain, repeated injuries to eyes from stalls in need of repair, horses caught in nylon halters on protruding parts of a stall door, cast against concrete, running loose on the property towards the road, caught in electric fencing, sweaty, unclipped overheating indoors after arriving from another outdoor facility, standing in swampy yuck and mud, soon to be euthanized standing near dead with a broken pelvis because of ineffective recognition of herd activity in the turn out routines, poor paddock planning, knees buckling because of a heavy, overconfident rider, plain neglect, somsersaulting in the air having struck a shoulder on an immobile obstacle, rearing over backwards in disagreement with a trainer, improperly shod, untrimmed and unwashed, downright lame, overly or illegally medicated, sour, otherwise unsafe horses... available for sale, lessons, part board or trail ride... Not to mention false advertising, fudged scores/entries and exercise logs and training bills, and on and on and on. Jill felt she had seen it all. And she said that when she showed up at a place she LOVED to stay at? It was an amazing place, through and through. Especially his...
Arriving home, Jill was announcing to Roomie that she thought she may have actually just found another rare perfect place! Nevermind a clothing sponsorship, she needed some kind of employer provided transportation! She set the flowers she'd brought home from the farm on the table. Roomie laugheded to mention that she'd once told her then-husband "NEVER BUY ME FLOWERS. They are an evironmental and financial waste. I prefer BOOKS." Laughing, she admitted that this rant was from before she'd learned about the varieties of flowers one can eat... And back then? Roomie had surprised herself enjoying CDs, and original songs, as gifts most of all. Jill recognized the irony of how the times had changed... Roomie had sold or given away all her precious books and even CDs - she was really quite adjusted to the digital world.
The bouquet of peacock feathers presented to her, by a new acquaintance, for their pre-arranged meeting, really made them swoon. Wow! Jill wished, in hearing the story, and seeing the bouquet in the living room, for a suitor, presenting such a bouquet for herself.
|photo by Lyle Lovett, used with permission!|
Roomie was tuning into the Signal on CBC Radio 2, emphasizing that the host was one of her heroes, Laurie Brown. She had published memoirs as the first Canadian female rock journalist, and probably the most adored too, that named rockstars by actual name, in so-called FICTIONALIZED accounts of them, ha...
Jill asked if she'd been working on her journalistic skills and Roomie shook her head, "Singing with the choir was amazing, and the talk was moving, mind altering and uplifting." It really does strengthen my spirit."
She was working on a small set to take around to some devotionals. "Pirates Gospel and Hallelujah ought a do it, right?" Hello praying for what you do want!
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