tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31418192175019621442024-03-13T10:14:41.967-06:00Lorraine in SpainPeople. Places. Chotchkies. Corn Dogs.Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-6280891074850956372018-03-27T11:15:00.000-06:002018-03-27T11:15:24.407-06:00A Balanced Life<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lvZQ3-YG4ni-KWgJZc6pUybdz9GlVbRp2kPQMmrtXrlg-U2qicuLU_pKEUph8DHZdzkpetLyGT1cYiXSRs8mGbG5RyKOYzED09PS1gdSyqzDUBnPyT_0G9j08Ks2-r6jTf6CRygROU8/s1600/IMG_8012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lvZQ3-YG4ni-KWgJZc6pUybdz9GlVbRp2kPQMmrtXrlg-U2qicuLU_pKEUph8DHZdzkpetLyGT1cYiXSRs8mGbG5RyKOYzED09PS1gdSyqzDUBnPyT_0G9j08Ks2-r6jTf6CRygROU8/s400/IMG_8012.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking up the Copperpot on paint day at school (note the purple hair!)</td></tr>
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After coming back to work part time a month after I had the Copperpot, I was exhausted, shell shocked, and hyper aware of how tiny my baby still was. I couldn't fathom leaving her in anyone's arms but her grandmothers, and I was extremely lucky that those women took on that task so willingly in those early months to allow me to go back to work and try and figure things out. </div>
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When the maternity leave ran out and my baby was still tiny, despite the huge decision ahead of me, it wasn't even a decision. I couldn't send my newborn to a giant daycare. Or a babysitter. That's not to say that I think women who do are less good mothers - in fact, I think they're 100 times stronger and braver than I will ever be. </div>
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So I decided to quit my office job and pursue my side project of freelance writing as full time as time would allow while still being home with the critter. In just a few months, freelancing turned to part time editing, part time editing turned into full time editing, and full time editing turned into running a much bigger chunk of a company than was tenable for me. </div>
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Even when the Copperpot was old enough to go to a wonderful nearby daycare and I could work full time with less distractions, I still found myself working 50 hours or more a week, and this time, the decision about what to do was much more painful. </div>
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Ultimately, I left behind years of work at a company I loved to seek some internal balance. I now work part time at my alma mater again for wonderful people, and that's a good fit for the moment. </div>
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What this foray into a full-time writing career afforded me was twofold: I was able to be home for two years with my daughter when she really truly needed me the most, and I was able to maintain an identity that was deeply important to me at a time when motherhood can feel all-consuming. I treasure those years and that experience, and that my company entrusted me with so much. </div>
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As for what's next, I feel like I'm in a complicated rest stop. I'm letting myself sleep in for the first time in 2.5 years (and by that I mean waking up at 7.) I've let myself indulge in all sorts of hobbies that fell to the wayside while I was constantly writing, reviewing books, answering emails, covering events. I'm knitting, reading, biking, seeing movies, and enjoying cooking again. And look, writing for myself again! </div>
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I don't know what the next stage looks like, but I'm actively contemplating it. I'm grateful for this safe rest point, and eager to see what identity awaits me next. </div>
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In the meantime, I hope to write here again about all the things I've fallen in love with in the past 18 months since I last wrote: The west side of Salt Lake, Mexico City, the books I'm reading, and the amazing food, shops, people, and organizations I'm encountering since we moved. </div>
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In the words of Lin Manuel Miranda, "Welcome to this life. It's a Sizzler's. It's whatever you can fit on your tray. And there's pudding the salad bar. Let's go."</div>
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Thanks for coming to Sizzler's with me, y'all. I've missed you. </div>
Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-88064178856236358332016-10-28T13:06:00.000-06:002016-10-28T13:58:26.077-06:00Utah Lake Adventure and Other Musings.It's been a wonderful fall. It seemed every tree has burst out in bright, hypnotizing gold this year, with hardly any red or orange, and I've been able to witness a lot of it. I'm immensely grateful to have the sort of work/life schedule where I can go out and enjoy the crisp air and changing colors and shocking beauty of fall.<br />
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Unlike other years where I've had to tamp down my agony about the colder weather, for once, I was happy to put the summer behind me and walk into the future. In all honestly, this past spring and summer were maybe the most difficult I've traversed in my happy, comfortable first-world life.<br />
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It's been a bit of a transition, leaving behind a good career and bustling office for a better career but lonelier landscape. Saying goodbye to my mare and finding her a better fit ultimately led to me taking a break from what has been an emotional, physical, social, therapeutic outlet and passion for me for many years, which in turn meant losing regular contact with my closest friends. I lost so many healthy things, including a part of my identity. For many months I felt very lonely without ever actually being alone. Every blazing hot day was a reminder of the life outside that was not for me, but for someone else.<br />
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As the baby has become a better communicator and more physically capable of an adventure, the road has gotten easier. We're adventure buddies instead of shut-ins - though ideally she'll be able to take a longer car ride soon without losing her mind.<br />
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I'm making peace with my reality instead of mourning it, appreciating my unquiet solitude rather than cursing it. Motherhood has not come naturally to me, nor the lifestyle that accompanies it, but The Beatles have assured me that all you need is love, and I can offer that to my baby in spades.<br />
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I used to always think that the people who lost their identities in marriage and family life did so because there was something toxic about the inner dynamic. That only codependency and/or a low self esteem could cause a person to disappear into another identity. I feel I'm in a happy marriage to a good person, and have a loving, hilarious daily kinship with both my people. But I also see how I've lost the "other" thing that existed before all this, and it's an idea I'm eager to explore.<br />
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I may not have the capacity at this moment for my barn life, but I have to find the bandwidth for the rest of me. I have to make time for my inner voice, and I have to remember the joy I found in sharing it.<br />
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This space may yet turn into a ghost town again in three weeks, but for my own sake, I hope not. After 15 years of dedicated journal writing and blogging, I think there's an ominousness to the quiet.<br />
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A peek at our golden life on the Jordan River trail near Utah Lake:<br />
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-55784549660320969792016-02-17T10:05:00.003-07:002018-01-26T16:23:11.108-07:00Day 1 - Mesa Verde<div style="text-align: left;">
It is so easy to get stuck in a rut when you have a 6-month-old baby because your entire life is beholden to the routine. This many feedings, that many naps, an hour of tummy time, 8-10 diapers a day. Paradoxically, not one of the big things in my life remotely resembles how my life looked just a few months ago: I quit the more predictable of my 2 jobs, committed fully to freelance writing, and moved barns twice in as many months before selling my horse altogether. It's not all bad, but it is sort of a lot to absorb.</div>
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Perhaps the worst of all right at the end was the genuinely suffocating inversion smog that fogged the throats, brains, and hearts of every citizen on the Wasatch Front this past week. It was a heavy, translucent monster swallowing up the good nature of our family, and we needed to make a break for it.</div>
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So against all odds, despite the vows we've taken to uphold the routine, we piled the tiny family into the car and headed south for the long weekend and a much needed reset.</div>
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Around the time I was setting up this photo, I was feeling a lot better.</div>
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We just couldn't have asked for a better weekend of clear, warm, sunny winter days. And the baby came along for all of it just fine. On the one hand, we got lucky that Leah is the absolute most easy-going baby ever born, but on the other hand, I think we also just decided we were going and having a good time no matter what, and babies can adapt to that. Moreover, a little forethought means planning drives during natural nap times, thinking through every feeding that day before 8am, and making your home kitchen as portable as possible. Now that we know how successful we can be, I'd like to think we'll be doing this a lot more.</div>
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-85167889290498193372016-01-29T14:40:00.000-07:002016-02-04T14:41:00.046-07:00Instagram 1.29.2016<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="6" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;">
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A photo posted by Lorraine (@lorraine.jackson) on <time datetime="2016-01-29T17:12:01+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jan 29, 2016 at 9:12am PST</time></div>
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<script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-58983521010892669272016-01-26T15:28:00.001-07:002016-01-26T15:35:05.022-07:00Big Mac.Today I got a Big Mac. I haven't been eating much meat lately and even less beef, but it's kind of a tradition for me to get one after a major horse event. <div><br></div><div>Today, that major horse event was getting Itxa on a trailer and saying goodbye. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqeICvImftscj9nfSMLgtaiCJP0F5jpLv6keimRsX6Nma4MSb5MzrsreUThzIxK5tOzTMhS8slbUfeuREYgroFlOY-G-zsdD2gaaFHs7PHwY1BFZ-_x7X5ZWfmpPef102KpTougqTvZ4/s640/blogger-image--1302016008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqeICvImftscj9nfSMLgtaiCJP0F5jpLv6keimRsX6Nma4MSb5MzrsreUThzIxK5tOzTMhS8slbUfeuREYgroFlOY-G-zsdD2gaaFHs7PHwY1BFZ-_x7X5ZWfmpPef102KpTougqTvZ4/s640/blogger-image--1302016008.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>It may or may not be a permanent situation, but it's a significant step in untangling myself from a several year relationship that just hadn't gone how I had hoped. There's not a single part of me that isn't shattered, gutted, disappointed. It's not that I feel like a failure- it's that I failed her. I have only loved a couple things in this world more than I loved that mare, but years of hard work and all my love couldn't make her happy. It couldn't fix whatever unknown trauma she has endured. Five of the best trainers I've ever known could get her roughly compliant, but never happy, and never fully trustworthy. There was always something dark lurking there that we could not fix. </div><div><br></div><div>She is now in her last ditch effort situation with someone I really trust, and we'll see if she can find some happiness outside the sandbox and on the trails. It's an option I haven't been able to provide her, and I'm rooting for it to work out with all my heart, because I'm not sure what will happen if it doesn't. </div><div><br></div><div>A part of me has died with the loss of this relationship, and I feel like it will be awhile before I can love a horse again. </div><div><br></div><div>But I'm lucky to still have my love of the horse universe: the people, the stories, the miracles. They are as extraordinary today as ever, and I feel at peace living as the storyteller for awhile. </div><div><br></div><div>Just me, my laptop, and my Big Mac.</div><div><br></div>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-67241337431999621582016-01-20T13:48:00.000-07:002016-01-24T13:48:51.349-07:00Instagram 1.20.2016<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="6" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;">
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BAu4pbZn4m5/" style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">We rescued what was left of this saddle from the barn of my husband's great grandfather, and it now proudly hangs in our daughter's nursery. The Jacksons ran cattle and sheep in Southern Utah for decades, and we feel lucky that we can share that legacy with the next generation through this treasured relic. #horsenation #cowgirltough</a></div>
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A photo posted by Lorraine (@lorraine.jackson) on <time datetime="2016-01-19T19:36:18+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jan 19, 2016 at 11:36am PST</time></div>
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<script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-11004130469039269002016-01-16T13:46:00.000-07:002016-01-24T13:46:51.831-07:00Instagram 1.16.2016<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="6" style="background: #fff; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.5) , 0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: 99.375%;">
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BAnnrzYn4os/" style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">Our microwave broke, and in my desperation to enjoy the Indian curry leftovers in our fridge, I bought the nearest cheap microwave on KSL that would meet me today. And only when I got home did I realize I had acquired the EXACT. SAME. MICROWAVE. Manufactured 3 months apart. Will it break in 3 months? Don't care, I got my curry. 🍛🍚🍲</a></div>
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A photo posted by Lorraine (@lorraine.jackson) on <time datetime="2016-01-16T23:53:24+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jan 16, 2016 at 3:53pm PST</time></div>
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<script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-83177303668805024772016-01-12T08:10:00.000-07:002016-01-12T08:10:38.350-07:00Ground Control to Major TomWhen I first saw the news in the wee hours of yesterday morning that David Bowie had died far too young by a terrible disease, I cursed as my gut twisted, and I tried to wrestle myself back to sleep.<div>
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When I first saw his last gift to us mere mortals in his music video 'Lazarus', I didn't feel like cursing and crying anymore, I felt profound awe that a man would share the intimate experience of death with the world in such a bold and vulnerable way. A groundbreaking artist to the end- It was just so damned Bowie.</div>
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The baby and I spent the rest of the day getting her all taught up on Goblin King by watching all of his insanely crazy work that spans more than 4 decades of humanity, and we danced our pants off in the living room of our pioneer house to Fame and The Jean Genie and of course Let's Dance. </div>
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I can bring myself to feel anger about cancer being what it is, but I can't bring myself to feel sadness about David Bowie's death. He was always so otherworldly that this just feels like a natural segue into immortality, and there is something really powerful about that to me as I grapple with my own circle of life and legacy. It's weird, but I feel like David Bowie's death has taught me more about my feelings on the afterlife than twenty years of Sunday School ever did. </div>
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I also wrote this little <a href="http://www.horsenation.com/2016/01/11/in-memoriam-isabel-werths-david-bowie-freestyle/" target="_blank">tribute diddy on Horse Nation</a> last night, and I've been shocked at how well it's been received. Apparently I wasn't the only horse person who felt this way about David Bowie. One of the comments we got was 'So many good tributes. Astronauts, now equestrians!' And it's true. Even though as far as I can tell, David Bowie never came near a horse, he was one of us, because he was a little bit crazy, and we get that. He knows what it means to be a little left of mainstream, to see beauty where others might miss it, and certainly that life ought to have a little more pomp and circumstance. </div>
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Basically, if you're doing life like David Bowie, you're doing it right. </div>
Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-37035342855760657432016-01-04T23:45:00.001-07:002016-01-04T23:45:22.753-07:00Very Important MustangsOn Sunday Itxa moved to yet another new barn - this time to enter dressage boot camp with one of the most impressive trainers and kindest people I've ever met. And for the first time in a long time I have hope for this little mare. <div><br></div><div>She's shown brief glimpses of potential amidst so much inner turmoil, but now she's in the right hands to actually succeed. </div><div><br></div><div>While I'm really so pleased that she was able to do some of this on her first day:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLa0waOj9HkbW8pmLah1-rwIcbUFXoVS2z-wAzc1T1jg5jsKSTw4z_BVQBL7MbBRF9AyO7jUahkCqoglB4k-kd4q-syKwMTl7bBHNOmxAFk9iJUSx4FbSmOoiybCEFT4cYYcMnK8IEJ0/s640/blogger-image-1745120402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLa0waOj9HkbW8pmLah1-rwIcbUFXoVS2z-wAzc1T1jg5jsKSTw4z_BVQBL7MbBRF9AyO7jUahkCqoglB4k-kd4q-syKwMTl7bBHNOmxAFk9iJUSx4FbSmOoiybCEFT4cYYcMnK8IEJ0/s640/blogger-image-1745120402.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm even more happy that she did some of this: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENWfpDDUVmBYYxVNb0x_1zUGUFFqdsLd9uJFG-am6u2RDqbeJQ4Spn3jQhMCxiex5k-iAF80iCimrWTDahQFrtpgrdiZM6HziboTtOVGdA8_-J3jKJA0TbeM2nGXJStiwD2AxpNPCr3M/s640/blogger-image--277118845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENWfpDDUVmBYYxVNb0x_1zUGUFFqdsLd9uJFG-am6u2RDqbeJQ4Spn3jQhMCxiex5k-iAF80iCimrWTDahQFrtpgrdiZM6HziboTtOVGdA8_-J3jKJA0TbeM2nGXJStiwD2AxpNPCr3M/s640/blogger-image--277118845.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>She had been so wound up and tense and disenfranchised the past couple months that it was really meaningful to watch her release all this stress she's been holding. She's been chewing and yawning and standing politely (for the most part) a lot since she got to her new home, and that is really a huge part of what I'm hoping to work through in the next few months. </div><div><br></div><div>Beyond any goal or hope or forward looking idea, though, it was just powerful to watch her yawn and be content in this moment, and it reminds me to do the same. To dwell in this incredible present moment of being with my healthy hilarious cherub baby, my family, my friends, and Itxa. The future is completely unpredictable, but the present is full of joy. </div>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-59050461558892988912016-01-03T10:00:00.000-07:002016-01-04T10:01:35.046-07:00Instagram 1.3.16<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="6" style="background: #FFF; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.5),0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: -webkit-calc(100% - 2px); width: 99.375%; width: calc(100% - 2px);">
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A photo posted by Lorraine (@lorraine.jackson) on <time datetime="2016-01-03T06:08:28+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jan 2, 2016 at 10:08pm PST</time></div>
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<script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-32902208820361857172016-01-01T22:12:00.000-07:002016-01-01T22:36:22.180-07:00Plan BIf omens are real, today's was not a good one. It was supposed to be a tremendously productive day writing about numerous inspiring, bizarre, endearing and death-defying horses and their people from around the globe, but instead I spent the day fighting a cold, holding a cranky baby, and constantly refreshing the home page to see if my company's servers had come back online yet. (They haven't.)<div>
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I stopped all of my fretting long enough to enjoy the triumphant return of Sherlock on PBS, and was shook up a moment by this lovely bit from our protagonist:</div>
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"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of."</div>
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While I'm quite fortunate not to be in any eminent danger, my situation is admittedly less safe than it used to be. Freelancing can be quite good work, and other times precarious and unrewarding work. And I can't say I've been overwhelmingly fearless in the face of my new full time responsibilities. </div>
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That being said, I like the idea of accepting the fear. I'm not so naive as to think it will absolutely work out, but I'm also not going to let trepidation shut the door in my own critical mind maze. </div>
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Day 1/365 is in the books as a hot mess, and not without worry. But it also didn't stop me, and that's the attitude I hope to have during the hard times and keep in my back pocket during the easy times. </div>
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-84401761760090999022015-12-29T08:40:00.000-07:002015-12-29T08:40:11.758-07:00Cherry Cordial GreetingsMissed me? I've missed me! That's a bit unsettling and narcissistic, isn't it? But show me a blog that isn't a little unsettling and narcissistic, and I'll make you dinner. Please enter your dietary restrictions in the comments.<br />
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It's a couple days away from 2016, and I'm all aflutter. Rather than an unrealistic fad diet or a commitment to swear less (LOL), I've decided to attempt something much more ridiculous in the year 2016: I'm going to write every single day for the next year.<br />
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Some of it will be published here, and some of it will be published at my <a href="http://www.horsenation.com/" target="_blank">day gig</a>, and some of it will be published on my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lorraine.jackson/" target="_blank">instagram feed</a>, but I'm committing myself to writing one of these three places every day of 2016, and see who I am on the other side of it.<br />
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2015 was big, what with introducing the Copper Pot into the world and flailing about somewhat aimlessly with a horse who hates life, and then quitting my full time job. So I want to be absolutely sure that 2016 is much more impossible. Add in that by the time the year is up my baby will be a toddler that walks and stuff, and this premise gets even more absurd.<br />
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But you know what? I like absurd. White bread is for chumps. <br />
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<br />Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-2272182232702949952015-10-22T13:52:00.000-06:002015-10-22T13:52:03.295-06:00When the Going Gets Rough - Go to Hawaii on the InsideSometimes when I'm a little stressed from working three jobs and not being able to sleep and worrying about money and my dumb horse, I look at the baby somewhere in my immediate vicinity or in my arms, and I instantly feel better. She's like the human manifestation of an orange cat's purr.<br />
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But sometimes all those things are happening, and my baby is far away being babysat by a loving grandma while I sit and fester at a cubicle. For those occasions, I just close my eyes....<br />
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Okay, no, first I open my Spotify and locate the Reggae. I find the classic reggae favorites playlist, hit shuffle, and THEN I close my eyes.<br />
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Then I imagine I'm back in my sassy rental car cruising around the Kalanianaole Highway on Oahu with the windows down in March, the smell and distant sound of the ocean permeating the cabin. My fancy mini bananas are on the seat next to me, and I literally don't have a single care in the whole entire world.<br />
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I went on that trip to see my BFF get married, which is a life highlight no doubt. But rediscovering reggae, seeing the octopus on my snorkel morning, and cruising that highway have refilled my canteen hundreds of times since then and now. I can't believe how much that week has meant to me. Now I just need an excuse to go back.<br />
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<br />Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-11706416143277716512015-06-26T12:19:00.000-06:002015-06-26T12:19:01.765-06:00A List<br />
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1. Marriage Equality. Such a good day.<br />
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2. I've got a barn and a family baby shower in the next 4 days, which normally sounds just terrifying, except it's with all my favorite people, so it will be awesome.<br />
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3. A puppy came to the office today. I got nothing done for an hour and my hands smell like puppy. #winning<br />
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4. The barn now has a new outdoor jumping arena with new sandy footing, and the indoor arenas are getting rubber composite footing. If you're not a horse person, I'm sorry you had to struggle through that. If you're a horse person, thanks for struggling through everything else to get to that part, because, I KNOW, RIGHT? So exciting.<br />
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5. I had a salami sandwich for breakfast. No regrets.<br />
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6. Relevant to the previous item, my baby doctor lady ran some tests and told me I need to eat more spinach and red meat, drink a gatorade, and keep my feet up. So I'm pretty sure I've been medically ordered to have a relaxing barbecue every day for the rest of the summer. That I can do, Doc. You're all invited. Bring Your Own Meat. And bring me a Gatorade.<br />
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7. Also relevant to 5 and 6, Dan and I went to the our town's Roundup BBQ Dinner on Wednesday, and for $4, you got a pulled pork sandwich, hawaiian chips, the best homemade baked beans you've ever tasted, a giant Grandma's Pink Sugar Cookie, and a drink. You know why? Because our town is the greatest freaking big little town in the world.<br />
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8. Dan doesn't know this yet, but I'm never leaving.<br />
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9. He's already rather suspicious he'll have to yank the deed of our pioneer house from my cold dead fingers, and for good reason. It's hot, and breaking, and tiny, and needs more storage, but damn if that little pioneer house with a tomato garden and a jetted tub isn't the most perfect weird little house I ever laid eyes on.<br />
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10. It's been a weird and awesome week, world. I'm letting the bad stuff slide away, because that's what I need right now. I'm clinging to progress in all its forms, new beginnings, and good food. A swimming pool or two might be in order as well.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A certain someone frolicking at dusk on the longest day of the year. </td></tr>
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<br />Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-66666846805794208452015-06-22T12:48:00.000-06:002015-06-22T12:48:35.436-06:00As Scar and the Boy Scouts say, "Be Prepared". Over the past several months, I've been very lucky to share the pregnancy experience with friends, family, past and current coworkers whose pregnancies overlapped and mirrored mine. It's been such a huge help! Being pregnant is both a lonesome journey that can only be made alone and also an incredibly uniting state that you share with a pretty good chunk of the population.<br />
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Over the weekend, Dan and I went off the grid for a couple days to spend time with family in a land where magically our phones don't work even if we wanted them to, and it was blissful. When we got back to civilization, I discovered that a solid half of my "pregnant clan" had given birth...early. Babies are all healthy and fine and going home soon if not home already, and that's the most important thing. But immediately after determining that important information, I turned white as a sheet and felt sick to my stomach.<br />
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Women due AFTER me just had healthy fat babies. I'm in the zone where like, this could happen. To me.<br />
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You know that dream where you find out you're in some sort of performance, and it's opening night, and you don't know any of the lines and you're supposed to do your own makeup? I have that dream regularly. This is kind of like that, only it's real, and someone sends me home with a baby at the end. And I still have to do my own makeup, which is really a tragedy. <br />
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Our house is a DISASTER. The "nursery", which is really just one side of our only other spare room which we use for every practical thing you can think of, is in no way assembled. The crib is built. That's about it. Her armoire closet is still a total wreck. The 10 layers of paint on the hardwood floors which are highly likely to contain multiple flavors of lead and arsenic are chipping and desperately need to be sealed in with a safe topcoat. There is nothing cheery or charming or baby-ish plastered to the wall above where her head will lay. My idealistic ambition to make her mobile myself out of hand-sewn horses and roadrunners has yet to even make the fabric store shopping cut yet, let alone all my snazzy ideas about making my own diaper pads and such.<br />
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Yes, diaper pads. 6 months ago, in my eagerness to save the earth and my money, I decided we were going to do the cloth diaper thing. 4.5 weeks from my due date, I'm totally panicking about how I've never even TOUCHED a cloth diaper in my life, and will soon be applying one to my flesh and blood 15-20 times a day.<br />
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Anyone who has ever seen the inside of my life the night before a horse show knows how I thrive on preparation. I have to-do lists, what-to-bring lists, color coded tape to signify different equipment for different classes, perfectly organized show boxes, a pristine horse and a spotless car, and a terrible case of nausea. That is the opposite of what I look like right now, except for the nausea part. <br />
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Have I mentioned that we don't have a daycare, yet?<br />
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I know it's "all going to work out", but right now, I feel totally unprepared for the onslaught of logistics that have to happen before the totally random hour of the craziest thing I'll ever do. I miss being able to say "oh well, it's just a horse show." It's the opposite of anything that's a "just". It's just everything.<br />
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But hey. I got this out there in the universe, and that helps. I'll start there. Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-27224112872119227072015-05-29T10:17:00.000-06:002015-05-29T10:17:00.021-06:00How Someone's Semi-Retirement is FaringIt had never, ever, in a million years, been my intention to star in my own equestrian-themed Lifetime Movie wherein a girl meets and falls in love with a difficult wild horse wrangled into captivity from her desert home, and as the two slowly build their partnership, it becomes clear that only this girl, and this girl alone, can tame the mighty beast!<br />
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So romantic. So stupid. So impractical. So inconvenient. Unequivocally the story of my life.<br />
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Since I adopted Itxa 2 years ago Sunday, I've let exactly six people ride her. Three of those people were professionals, two of those people were riding at the walk, and one was pretty much my favorite teenager of all time. I can't say that any one of those rides was especially comforting to me, and some of them were just downright traumatizing. Not because the professionals weren't people who I trusted implicitly, but because Itxa's reactions to them were so vehemently negative and riddled with paranoia that no good could come of it.<br />
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So here I am, 32 weeks pregnant, and stuck with a horse who has had to fall out of work at the same rate as me. At first it was unendingly frustrating, depressing, and left me dripping in guilt.<br />
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And then I remembered that horses don't have goals, people have goals for horses.<br />
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She LOVES to be pointed at a thing and asked to jump it. She LOVES a good puzzle, and trying to figure out what she's being asked to do. (So long as you don't KEEP asking for it after she's figured it out, then she's done with you.) But in between those bright spots, there has been tail swishing, teeth grinding, ear pinning, endless irritation at the daily experience of being asked to be a useful horse.<br />
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Interestingly, in semi-retirement, (essentially getting out for grooming, loving, and a mix of fun and practical ground-based exercise around twice a week) a lot of that irritation has dissipated. This summer has been a good reminder for me that Itxa has had about as much stability and tranquility in her life as an unruly foster kid- a year on the plains, a few months in a negative adoption experience, a year in the prison program, holdings pens in between all that, and then 2 years trying to be reformed by an ambitious, well meaning, but amateur equestrian.<br />
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I think a whole lot of that was not an awesome experience for her, myself included, but because of our longevity and some good aspects to our relationship, I think Itxa has at least learned that I am her friend. She doesn't always trust me (the feeling is mutual), but I think we do actually like each other, and maybe she's never had that before. I'm glad that our mutual semi-retirement has taught me that, and I hope it helps me make the right decision for her when the time comes to get back in the saddle later this summer.<br />
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More than any other personal equestrian goal I have for myself, I know that my next major mission is to help Itxa enjoy her work, and continue to push our relationship from liking each other to trusting each other.<br />
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And with (realistically) another 10 weeks or so to go before that next stage begins, I'm glad we're getting this time to just be friends.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey look! No crazy eye!</td></tr>
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-51845574964558016692015-05-27T13:00:00.000-06:002015-05-27T13:00:20.460-06:00Excerpts From The BacheloretteJJ: My pick-up line most of the time is 'Hi, I'm JJ, I'm divorced, have a kid, and live with my parents.'<br />
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Amy Schumer: Is that true?<br />
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JJ: That's totally true.<br />
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[look of sheer and utter glee and delight crosses Amy Schumer's face, takes a swig of white wine.]<br />
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JJ: Is that bad, should I not say that?<br />
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Amy Schumer: I LOVE THAT.<br />
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JJ: Probably I shouldn't try to do that Steven Tyler kickstand on the mic stand?<br />
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Amy Schumer: No, I think that's a really, really good idea.<br />
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JJ: Sometimes I feel like I'm too smart for like, 90% of the audience. Gets me in trouble.<br />
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Amy Schumer: I'm gonna make you feel better. You're not.<br />
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[cutaway to Amy Schumer confessional interview]<br />
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Amy Schumer: JJ is a sweetheart. He's just missing charisma, humility, and a sense of humor. Basically, you should hire him as your next Bachelor. Maybe when he watches the show he'll reflect back on himself and not....be such a turd.<br />
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-24390710879878598812015-04-01T12:33:00.001-06:002015-04-01T12:33:23.543-06:00April Fools Baby TricksAfter 24 weeks of the gestational experience, you get pretty used to 2 things: thinking about the fact that dogs only gestate for 6 weeks, and feeling a squid-like creature violate you in various charming ways from the inside out. I can't begin to explain how mixed my feelings are about this experience. Every instinct tells me it's the creepiest damn thing that's ever happened to me, and yet, I'm completely obsessed with the next time I'll feel my prodigy knocking out a bedroom wall in there to make room for a crafting space. (She's going to DIE when she finds out about Pinterest).<br />
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So this morning when I was getting ready, driving to work, and enjoying my morning tea at my desk and I realized in a panic that "renovations" were awfully quiet this morning, I started to needlessly panic like any good first time gestator. Fortunately, I have learned from friends and internets that drinking ice cold water and laying on your back can kick construction back into high gear. So I proceeded to fill my water jug full of ice and frigid water, chug it, and go lie on my back on the couch in my office ladies room.<br />
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Needless to say, in swift and merciless response to me abruptly waking her from peaceful morning slumber, the squid decided to turn the craft room into a home gym, and decided my icy-full insides were the perfect punching bag. Let's just say it was lucky I was already in the ladies room.<br />
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I'm still not totally sure which of us was the victim and which of us was the perpetrator of an April Fools joke, but certainly, everyone got what was coming to them.<br />
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In unrelated/related news, here is a picture of me looking pregnant on a beach in Hawaii on the day of my BFF's wedding. I'll be posting about this trip very soon!<br />
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<span id="goog_1872386568"></span><span id="goog_1872386569"></span><br />Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-72978768288740988012015-03-06T09:21:00.000-07:002015-03-06T09:21:52.850-07:00Culture Tangent: A Film About Helpless Blind Women and "Love"I just watched this short film.<br />
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But just because I'm putting it here doesn't mean I'm endorsing it. Did I think it was sweet? Sure. Did I cry? Of course I did. I'm pregnant. McDonalds Arches glowing radiantly in front of an epic sunset make me cry right now. The bar for that has been set exceptionally low.<br />
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But let me give you the cliff notes of what this 8-minute movie (which was almost certainly made by a man) is all about:<br />
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<li>Woman cooks and cleans and does laundry for her husband, even though they both appear to have equally demanding full time jobs.</li>
<li>She insists she does this, because it's important his coworkers can tell from his crisp white shirts that his wife loves him. (GAAAAAG.)</li>
<li>He doesn't seem to put up much fuss about this.</li>
<li>Woman goes blind, and because she feels she can no longer serve her husband, feels unworthy of his love.</li>
<li>Woman appears to slowly learn to adapt and continue cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and going to her demanding full time job.</li>
<li>BIG REVEAL: Turns out he's silently helping her to adapt by pre-sorting the laundry and following her to work every day, during which he condescendingly remarks that she insists on continuing to work, as if that's cute. </li>
<li>He gives himself a big old pat on the back, "She will never know how much I do for her, and I never need her to know." (Nevermind that he ALSO doesn't seem to notice how much she does for him.)</li>
<li> Because that's what makes her feel like she's worth something in this world! How sweet! What a SELFLESS guy. What a romantic! What a love story! </li>
<li>And what I think must be the sub-moral of this story, if you go blind and you're single, you're TOTALLY screwed and will never adapt, because disabilities mean you can't do anything by yourself anymore without dying.</li>
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I hope if I ever go blind, people will be as patronizing and self congratulatory as this guy is about continuing to love his super hot, hard-working, intelligent, and resilient blind wife. Because God knows without his help, she'd NEVER learn how to adapt on her own to continuing to serve her husband at all costs.</div>
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4.5 MILLION HITS and counting. </div>
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I know, I KNOW, I watch The Bachelor. But you know what the difference is between The Bachelor and this? We all agree that those women are crazy and that whole scenario is culturally regressive, and we accept it as sort of a sick and twisted entertainment device. This is just straight-up misogyny dressed up as an artsy and culturally accepted perspective on love. DO BETTER AT LIFE, SHORT FILM SCENE. </div>
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-57945799099268734242015-02-17T14:30:00.002-07:002015-02-17T14:30:46.083-07:00A List1. This is probably the most boring "new look" my blog has ever had, and yet, it's still incredibly turquoise. We'll see how long it lasts before I inevitably bedazzle it.<br />
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2. Speaking of bedazzle, I feel like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork/photos/a.102107073196735.4429.102099916530784/889456951128406/?type=1&theater">this woman</a> accurately captures all of my childhood fantasies about the fashion choices I would make as a grown-up when I had the liberty and finances to do so. I'm a little sad that I haven't lived up to that, but certainly, it's not too late!<br />
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3. The reigniting of my desire to write about my personal life happens to coincide with the fact that I am pregnant. While I probably will mention the whole pregnancy, motherhood, cute baby thing here, do not fear- I have no intention of suddenly becoming a mommy blogger. I think the internet has enough of those without me, and I still have way too many things to say about Corn Dogs.<br />
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4. For example, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Corndog-Commander/1450450331852879">THIS IS A THING</a>. My beloved life partner apparently knew this existed AND EVEN ATE THERE months before mentioning it to me, and when I confronted him in horror about this, he stated that he did not know that I had these feelings about Corn Dogs.<br />
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5. Truth: I had one of those "oh my god, I'm a stranger in my own home, we don't know each other at all, this is how it ends" moments in the course of this conversation. I also cited the subtitle of this blog as evidence that I do in fact have very serious feelings about corn dogs. He relented.<br />
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6. Still haven't eaten at Corn Dog Commander. Stay tuned.<br />
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7. In addition to worries about the expenses, the day care, my career, and the curiosity about EXACTLY how much childbirth hurts, yes, one of my primary daily worryings is what will I do about Itxa between the months of April-August. It doesn't sound that long, but Itxa wants to be a star, bidges, and she don't wanna wait for my fat can to get back in the saddle.<br />
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8. This worry recently HILARIOUSLY led to me asking my trainer to pop up on the little demon to pop around a few fences, and the Neurotic Stink had an absolute meltdown about it.<br />
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9. She's apparently convinced herself she's a one-woman horse. How cute. How inconvenient.<br />
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10. Did I mention she's also the love of my life?<br />
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11. "What about your husband?" "What about your unborn child?" BLAH BLAH BLAH people. Look at those socks. When my unborn child stops poking my gag reflex and enjoys me sticking my fingers in its ear canals as much as Itxa does, we can talk.<br />
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12. My childhood BFF is getting married next month in Hawaii, and I'm her maid of honor. How cute is that? There will be pictures and travel updates galor, so LOOK AT ME! Pregnant and traveling. Don't give up on me yet, globetrotters.<br />
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13. I tried, but I can't stop/won't stop liking Kanye West. Interesting people make bad choices, America. This one was harmless. Get over it.<br />
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14. I like all of you. Thanks for reading.<br />
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-85528010483485122682014-12-09T13:40:00.000-07:002014-12-09T13:42:32.577-07:00Excerpts of a MarriageLorraine: Make a note: Nissin Cup o'Noodles are the best cup o'noodles.<br />
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Dan: Noted. I had instant lunch as a snack yesterday and it was great. Good to know that there's something even better<br />
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Lorraine: Somewhere, out in the vast culinary world, a Michelin Star chef just died. That's what happens every time a young couple compares the merits of instant soup.<br />
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Dan: Oh god, I've probably killed thousands of them then. Between dollar menu items and frozen meals. I can't bear to think of it.<br />
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Lorraine: You're like the Pol Pot of award-winning chefs.<br />
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.Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-72916556566635827622014-07-18T15:28:00.001-06:002014-07-18T15:28:58.814-06:00I Miss TomThere's a couple dozen times and places in my life where I can transport myself with a deep inhalation of breath and a quiet room. There's perhaps a few places where, no matter the bustle, the grief, the chaos around me, even gasping for air, I could find myself in an instant.<br />
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The one I'm thinking of today is Statuary Hall in the Capitol Building during Tom Lantos's memorial. I remember listening to Ellie Wiesel speak, and his words fading in and out as the sun came bursting through the cupola window above my head. I remember the swell of souls in the room, and making one of the most sacred vows of my life, that I would not forget or neglect Tom's work. We must stand firm against atrocities, we must reward movements of equality, we must live and enjoy these precious brief lives that we have no right and every right to live.<br />
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The ways that I have feebly gone about upholding that vow are embarrassingly distant from what I thought they would be, and sometimes I feel as though I've done more than my share of enjoying my life and not enough standing firm.<br />
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As atrocities of all kinds, in all countries, whip around us in the heat of summer unrest, I miss Tom and his unbending and unapologetic demands for human rights. I wish he were here to tell us what to do. This morning, as I punched off NPR in the car and fought back the sting of hopeless tears about our human calamities and my uselessness in it, I suppose you could say that I had an experience of sorts. My claim to spirituality is a complicated one, to say the least, but call it what you will- enlightenment, inspiration, The Ghost of Hanukkah Past- but the calm and quiet thought that entered my head was a clear one.<br />
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Keep going. Keep learning. Keep growing. That time will come.<br />
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For a brief moment, I felt like my experiences in this life all added up and made sense and had their place...and quickly the lights went dim again and here I was with these peculiar jobs and a long commute.<br />
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So I'm going to try and do that. I'm going to keep living the exact life I have, but maybe with the deeply held hope that it will all add up someday. Even if it never does, I think it would be a better way to live.<br />
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And in the meantime, I hold the tender innocent citizens of this planet securely in my heart, and hope that a voice of reason, compromise and mercy will inspire the leaders of those who hold those innocent lives in their hands. Enough mothers have sobbed into their skirts already.Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-34981475274766709762014-06-10T21:50:00.001-06:002014-06-10T21:50:27.881-06:00Excerpts of a Horse Marriage<i>Said while stalking Kaley Cuoco on Instragram...</i><div><i><br></i><div><i>"</i>I'd like to think that if I boarded my horse at the same barn as her, it would be nerve-wracking at first and I'd be all weird and shy, and then I'd realize she's just a normal horse person who happens to be on The Big Bang Theory, and then we'd have long talks about...poultice."</div><div><br></div><div>"Poultice?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Yeah, poultice."</div><div><br></div><div>"Like, herbs?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Well, like, horse poultice. You put it on their legs to bring down inflammation."</div><div><br></div><div>"Why would you want to talk to her about poultice?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Well not specifically poultice, I just mean... Nevermind."</div></div>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-7015212120356289292014-02-13T10:57:00.000-07:002014-02-13T11:06:58.947-07:00Riding and Writing Reconciliations<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A totally superfluous and unrelated photo of Itxa</td></tr>
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HorseNation informed me this morning that they'd like to pay me for the stories I write for them. I have little dreams, but getting paid to write about the thing I love most has always been one of them. </div>
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When I was teeny tiny, I would make "newspapers" about the horse shows my model horses were having on the braided rug of my bedroom; envisioning myself covering the equestrian events at the Olympic Games someday. HorseNation is far from the Olympics, but it's sure a long way from the braided rug. </div>
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As a little kid, you have so many dreams about what you're going to do. I think reading Great Expectations in high school was the first time I ever confronted the inevitable lesson of adulthood that all those dreams will probably be losses you will have to reconcile with your therapist someday. I have reconciled some of those losses, maybe never more than I did after working for Congress in Washington and then going to work as a glorified receptionist for some pretty difficult and jaded people. The glass ceiling was a heartbreaking discovery, and the politics of politics were too much for me. I knew I could fight for better, but it wasn't worth the fight to me.</div>
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But horses have always been worth the fight. Whether it's draining "mud" puddles up to my shins in February, taking a washed up racehorse from a field and turning her into a promising eventer, or begging a quirky upstart website to publish my stories on mustangs or crazy horse stuff on youtube, it has always, always been worth it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What "the fight" looks like currently.</td></tr>
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That being said, I have to make some hard decisions. (That certainly comes with the territory of horses). I can't do it all. I have to follow the trails that make sense. The Utah Trotter, despite how much I love it, and how much good it's brought to my life since I started it, has never really truly made sense. I haven't really found my voice or my audience there, and I don't know that it's ever going to contribute to the Utah horse industry the way that I envisioned it. So, I'm going to publish the last couple of stories that I've been working on, and then shutter the digital doors. It's done some great good- it shared Robyn's wonderful story as a mustang trainer (and turned us from strangers to wonderful friends), it helped raise awareness and find homes for the starving horse herd in Spanish Fork, and maybe it's done some other good for groups here and there over the years as well. But you can't always continue to throw good hours after bad. </div>
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I'm a little under the weather, and today is a mixed day of emotions for me, but I'm content and confident and eager for tomorrow. There are many more stories to tell, and I'm humbled to be finding my place in it. most of all, I'm grateful that this dream didn't stop at the edge of that braided rug. </div>
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Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3141819217501962144.post-47141028062092671092014-01-15T11:32:00.001-07:002015-02-17T13:45:55.513-07:00January Jingle Bells<span style="font-size: large;">While I <i>really</i> did this because I wanted the novelty of hearing my horse trot and jingle, I think I may just start riding her in these bells all the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It blocks out all those fake sounds she pretends are terrifying, AND people will know when the crazy mustang is coming up behind them! Million dollar idea. Right there. </span>Lorrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11581916051525679639noreply@blogger.com0