Thunder and Lightning, Very Very Exciting

Today I've been catching up on sleep, and slowly, so very slowly, unpacking and washing stuff after a weekend away trail riding along the always stunning Howqua River.

It was an adventuresome couple of days with fantastic horses and experienced riders. The weather was mostly grey and cloudy, but not too hot for strenuous mountain work, or too cold, although it got seriously chilly at times when we left the valleys and were exposed to the full brunt those infamous alpine winds. Best of all, it didn't rain during the days. There was, however, much drama on the Saturday night when a late storm blew in. My sister and I were happily ensconced in our respective tents and snoozing away the tiredness of the day when lightning cracked, thunder rolled, and an almighty wind blew up. The ground actually shook a few times. This was no normal storm. This was a STORM!!!!

For a while there, with my little canvas world wildly flapping around me and giant raindrops pummelling down, I was worried my tent might not be up for it (I had visions of it blowing over, and myself running around in an undignified manner in the middle of the night with my soggy belongings looking for a place to rest my weary head), but after all our trips to the mountains together, I should have had had more faith - my trusty tent stood strong and stayed dry, the storm passed quickly, and I snuggled up in my sleeping bag and swag and slept soundly til morning. Apparently, my sister and I discovered the next day, the residents of the nearby (too crowded for my tastes) bunkhouse had been thanking their lucky stars that they weren't in tents, totally unaware that we were as snug as bugs in those proverbial rugs.

All in all, we had a great time. It was just what I needed to clear out my head and re-energise my body. Horses and mountains are good for that kind of thing.

And yes, we're already lining up another ride :)

Horse Riding Cures Almost Everything, Maybe.

I've had a few aches sneak up on me lately, and wasn't sure how well a day of horse riding would go down with my body, but being a great believer in not knowing how things will turn out until you have a go, I headed off with a pocket full of pills to meet my sister for a whole day of riding in Daylesford, just the two of us. If worse came to worse, I thought, I could always bail on the afternoon ride.

Good thing I did go. A couple of panadols was all I needed - which is, strangely enough, a lot less than I down to get through a far less physically exerting sit-still shift at the Arvo Job (go figure) - and a great day was had. My sister sneakily snapped this fab photo of me contentedly moseying along through the forest on my old friend M. with her phone, and I'm glad she did. See, you can miss out on much good stuff if you overthink what might happen. I actually feel really good, though tired, and I will, no doubt be sore tomorrow, and the day after. However, it's important, I think, to do things that make you feel strong when you're not well, even if you have to push yourself a bit - the positive feedback loop is worth a truckload of pharmaceutical products. My sister and I have vowed that we'll be getting back into our regular riding schedule again next year. We're over pottering along the laneways like old ladies and want to be hellions on horseback once more. It's our thing.

So yeah, beautiful weather, scenic countryside full of rolling hills, happy, green forests full of colourful parrots, good horses, fine food, fun company, a much appreciated lift home (thank you, Cindy) AND I snapped a few pics for my much neglected Foalwatch:

Back From The High Country

Yawn.

My sister, her friend W and I spent the weekend horse riding with others through the High Country . That means a lot of uphill work. If you've never stood in stirrups while the horse beneath you tackles a steep, never-ending incline and groaned because your calves are burning with pain, then, of course, you have no idea what that simple phrase means. Still, I feel surprisingly good today, but ever so tiiiiiired.

I very carefully paced myself by taking Friday off to sleep in and pack (it's cold up there in the Victorian Alps this time of year, so much warm and waterproof gear was required even though the predicted snow and rain did not eventuate, and we had quite glorious weather), travel across the state and stay at my sister's so we were ready to head off early to get to the Mansfield area in time for our 9.30 start. Today I stayed home to recharge my drained batteries, but all in all, I'm exceedingly pleased with myself for getting through the two days without any dramas or fuss. This is the ride I was supposed to have gone on over eighteen months ago, but the first of my three operations got in the way, and since then ongoing slicing and dicing and medical crap has kept me off the mountains, so it's been well over two years since I last rode amongst those peaks. There's been many a time, mostly when I've been flat on my back with tubes coming out of me and had machines that go beep by my bedside, when I've worried that I might not ever get to enjoy slogging up muddy slopes and sliding down hillsides on horseback again :) But I did it! And I'm most grateful that it happened.

Anyway, much fun was had, challenges were overcome, the silence of a starry night far from civilization was enjoyed, stunning scenery seen from horseback on the high trails was oohed and aahed over, our horses were compared and much talked about, breakneck gallops up long tracks were done with exhilaration, and details were rehashed with much enthusiasm on the drive home yesterday.

Now I'm eager for another dose of this goodness.

The Mist: The Ride

My sister and I went horse riding in Daylesford today, and I managed to stay in the saddle for both the morning and afternoon rides, which isn't bad given it's been 5 months since my last equine outing, and even before that, my track record was reluctantly sporadic due the past 18 months worth of hospital crap. It wasn't a hard all-dayer. Both times, it was just the two of us so we could set the pace according to what I was up for, which was not a lot compared with my derring-do of yore, but any attempt to move faster than a trot was also seriously thwarted by the weather.

The morning was wet and hazy enough - the rolling hills remained obscured by fog for the whole ride - but my sister and I crossed fingers that it would clear up by the afternoon.

Alas, it was not to be, not by a long shot.

When we headed out again after lunch, the mist was thicker and more saturated, and it grew increasingly more so until we were moving through a drizzly, surreal, Stephen King-created, vapour-shrouded landscape of limited vision, stands of spooky, leafless trees vaguely outlined by the white stuff, sky and air and land and lakes merging with each other into dreamlike scenes, and an intense silence broken only by the sounds of horse hooves clopping, wet things dripping, and the plaintive bleats of newborn lambs coming from the unseen fields beyond. It was the kind of thick mist from which tentacles suddenly reach out to pull poor, helpless riders from their horses and drag them back into the murky miasma.

And it was cold, bone chillingly cold - we were mightily glad for our drizzle-repelling drizzabones, with many layers of clothing and downy vests underneath - and the ground was wet and far too soggy for speedy riding unless one desired to take a chance on spending the next few months with various limbs in plaster casts.

But we had a good time, took it easy, made jokes, and enjoyed the unreal atmosphere and strange visual and aural effects created by the uncanny weather. Afterwards - and this is a very important part of the Winter horse riding experience - my sister and I warmed our boots and bums in front of a roaring log fire, drank cups of hot tea, ate steaming leak and potato soup with toast followed by berry strudel, and all was wonderful and well with the world.
  
*satisfied sigh*

But for sure I'll be sore tomorrow...

Back Where I Belong

After a couple of days of being fed delicious food and recuperating at my sister's place (aah, the mystical healing powers of sitting on a bench in the sunshine and watching chooks potter about), my brother transported me across the state, so now I'm home again.

Say no more.

Except, I don't think I mentioned I got a cute, red plush dragon this time, to go with my cute, pink plush unicorn from last year's slicing and dicing. It was almost worth the pain and bother. If this keeps up (and I hope it doesn't), I might end up with a cute, plush, mythological menagerie.

Groundhog Year

Yesterday was a scan and consult day, and for many hours, it was quite a lovely day. The weather was stunning, there was a nurse who was ever so happy she could take shortcuts with me instead of going through the usual rigmarole of explaining the process (I suspect she got a longer tea break because she could cut corners with me), a new guy controlling the MRI scanner (my usual lady was off on holidays) with whom I talked about helium expanding and exploding, and everything was very relaxed and went like clockwork. I met my sister afterwards, and we had lunch at an excellent and very atmospheric place that made the yummiest gourmet pizzas before heading off to my consult, both of us brimming with optimism, because I felt fine, everything went so well last time, and I was quite proud of my stamina and wellness. Mind you, the writer in me recognised a classic setup for fall and kept pointing it out to me, but I repeatedly told her to shut up. Hubris, schmubris!

Alas, the writer in me was right and things went downhill from there. The hospital head honcho was at the consult, which was a big enough surprise, and she basically informed me that although I had beaten the odds last year and impressed all and sundry with my swift recovery (not that it felt swift), well, I was going to have to try and beat the odds again - not news even remotely close to what I wanted to hear. It was about this time last year I started having tests and such and the medical fun started, and to find myself twelve months later facing another round of surgery and treatments, well, I'm not, as you can imagine, terribly keen on saddling that particular horse and charging into into that particular valley again, especially since I'm feeling far better and more energetic that I have for a long time. Last year I was begging them to slice me open just to get rid of the pain. Now, although I'm not running at 100%, I feel fine, active, together, clear-headed, organised, and was planning to busy up my life and do more. I was most certainly not planning to become a patient again. I mean, I'm putting in time at the Arvo Job, I'm reading and writing and socialising, I'm doing push ups and tummy crunches, doing workouts with weights, walking vast distances and riding horses. Those blah days were behind me, I thought. And yet I must do as they say, to preempt what will become a bad situation if we don't act now.

So 2013 is looking like a repeat of 2012. Yippee-ki-yay.

I've spent today absorbing this turn of events.  People have been great - my sister is texting and is on hand to talk at any time, and my brother dropped by for tea, a chat and some strategising. Ah well, time to buck up, put on my stoic hat, thrash those odds, and remember to be grateful I live in a country that takes care of these things.

And in between, I shall keep the writing flowing (I'm better prepared this time).

Juggling Stories and Stuff

So there's a certain story which, although of humble and simple construction, I consider one of my better efforts out in the world with a magazine that usually returns my submissions within a couple of weeks, but this time, so far, they've held it for 7-8 weeks, which may not mean anything in the greater scheme of things, but then again it might! However, if they're going to reject it, I really wish they'd reject it quickly, like sometime tonight would be good, so I can send it off for the themed issue of another magazine, deadline tomorrow. Alas, it probably won't happen so conveniently. The temptation to simultaneously sub is overwhelming, but bound to lead to trouble if I succumb, so I shall resist. Drats! Ah, all this waiting for outcomes, sometimes it drives me batty.

Today I should have been putting up my tent for an airing and getting my gear ready for a weekend of horse riding through the Victorian High Country, the one I'd been "training" for on our last two rides, but unfortunately my sister has just this week been struck down by illness (get well soon, Cindy), so we've had to postpone the trip for a few months. Because I thought I was off on a strenuous ride in a few days, I'd more or less reluctantly (but not wholeheartedly quite) dismissed the idea of heading off to the Spec Fic Festival in Sydney I posted about a while back - I'm still not well enough for consecutive weekends of pushing the energy envelope -  and it's probably too late to organise things now. Another drats!

Feeling Like A Real Rider Again

At 6AM this morning, I had a hard time convincing myself I really wanted to get up and go horse riding, firstly because, well, it was Sleep-In Sunday, and secondly because our all day ride three weeks ago, my first all dayer in over ten months after languising in the greylands of not being well, was pure torture and had me hobbling around for a week afterwards. However, I also knew it was necessary to get my sorry butt out of bed and to participate in Operation Whip Those Riding Muscles Back Into Shape if I ever wanted to enjoy galloping across fields and through dales again, or heading off for weekends wending through distant mountains, so off I went.

It was good I did, as today went far better than last time. My sister and I went out by ourselves for both the morning and afternoon ride so we could control the tempo and toughness of the rides, knowing it would be easier for a certain stubborn person (not my sister) to ask for a slowdown with just the two of us than if third or fourth parties were involved. We still did some quite fast and challenging runs, and were interrupted three times by kangaroos bounding across the trail and spooking the horses, but also just did a lot of hacking along and getting our bottoms used to spending long days in the saddle again. It was all a lot easier than last time, my ankles gave me only a twinge of bother, my legs remained under my control, and now, at the end of the day,  I don't feel like a zombie rider - hey, there's  story idea. Zombie rider on a zombie horse? I'm sure it's already been done. Anyway, mission achieved!

So, the upshot of today is that riding from dawn til dusk is fun again. Yay! Point me towards some distant mountains.

(Not sure who the people in this picture are - it was taken a while ago. But the view is nice.)

Pale Horses Pushing Envelopes

And lo, because you can never push a theme too far, I did ride not just one, but two pale horses yesterday, and behold, today I do feel like Death warmed over, but verily in a good way.

On the short morning ride with just my sister and myself, I rode my old friend M, who was feeling particularly full of oats and up for anything. All went well. The wildlife in the Wombat Forest was abundant, with butterflies everywhere, rabbits popping out and scampering off underfoot at inopportune moments, and little flocks of colourful parrots constantly erupting from bushes to startle the horses, all of which made for a fun, keep-your-wits-about-you time.

Then came the afternoon ride with my sister, myself on a very zippy buckskin I hadn't ridden before, and an experienced guide we knew well so we could gallop and wend amongst the trees without getting lost. This ride was longer and harder and faster, as always, and the one that I fully knew would push me from the fun zone into the when-will-this-agony-be-over place because I hadn't done an all-dayer since April 2012, before my medical woes began.

And so it did pass. The swift pace had me huffing and puffing, sweat was pouring from under my helmet and running down my face, and muscles everywhere soon began to play up. My calves right from the start hurt like heck, and got worse as the ride progressed, clenching into tight knots of excruciation. For the last hour and a half, my ankles turned to jelly. Every time we finished a fast bit of riding, I quickly slipped my feet from the stirrups to stretch my lower legs and rotate my ankles to ease the pain, luxuriating in the relief. All in all, I did not make for a pretty picture towards the end as more and more muscles gave out, so I rode at the rear to spare the others the sight of my legs swishing all over the place and my less than impressive seat. This unsteadiness was almost the undoing of me when a kangaroo bounded onto the trail and spooked the horses, but I did not fall off! And when I finally slipped from my horse and hit the ground again, my sympathy for beginners knew no bounds as I was reminded of how agonising it feels to be a riderly neophyte.

But I did it! Sookiness was not an option. I clenched my teeth and got through it, mostly because I knew I needed to get myself back into shape for a weekend of mountain riding my sister and I and one other plan to do in about two months. So today, with that goal still firmly in my mind, I must graciously pay the riding piper his dues and suffer soreness, stiffness, and screaming ankles that have me hobbling around the house in a most undignified manner until they warm up. All of this was expected, which was why a long weekend was chosen for the pushing of this particular envelope. And it was good to find out that I had energy enough to get through such a day and make it home again (I was carefully measuring my reserves as we went) though I did collapse into bed quite early last night, and slept in to a positively decadent hour this morning. But I did it!

Usually, on the train on the way home, given that I'm wearing joddies, schlepping gear and, no doubt, have more than a whiff of the barnyard about me, I get into many conversations with fellow horse lovers. Yesterday, as a nice addendum, I met two horse-and-book mad young girls. We talked about rides, ponies and what they were reading, and they showed me their My Horse games on their smartphones and bragged about their points. Lucky kids - I would have absolutely adored something like that at their age.

Another Horse Riding Hit

I'm feeling good, though tired (naps have been taken), after another swig of that greatest of get well tonics called horse riding.

My sister very kindly came up Saturday and stayed over to make everything easy, convenient and low-energy for me, so all we had to do after brekky this morning was head on up the road to Daylesford, turn a sharp left, and arrive in time for a ten o'clock ride. Words simply cannot describe how gorgeous the weather was today or how lush and colourful the Spring landscape was - everyone was commenting on it, everyone was radiating contentment. With oodles of good cheer, we headed off into the Wombat Forest together, just my sister and I, on lively horses that were both fully and joyfully in tune with the utter wonderfulness of the day. It was just a short 2.5 hour ride like last time, but it went so well that we're planning one more short ride next month, then I'll try to tackle an all dayer in December. Hopefully we can resume our usual riding trips after that.

So, now I just need to get my writing routine up to scratch as well and I'll once again be a fully functioning Gitte. Ah well, steady as she goes...

Snoopy Happy Dancing my Way Back to Good Health

As you can guess from the title of this post, my Date with Destiny went well. After months of various doctors gently grooming me to prepare myself for the worst (yes, I knew what they were up to. I'm a writer. I study dialogue!) you can colour me surprised, amazed, a little shocked, but most of all, a bright shade of extremely grateful.

The day didn't start out well though. When I got to the hospital for my Date with Destiny scan, I was told that the MRI was broken, which meant there'd be no up to date information for the afternoon consult, which meant I would have had to head home again full of unknowing, which is dire stuff to feed my imagination, and wait goodness knows how long to find out about my situation. Luckily, the MRI tech guys arrived on the scene and managed to fix the machine in the nick of time. Thank you tech guys. I'd buy you each a beer if I could. Heck, throw in vodka chasers all round as well. And peanuts. And chips. The expensive ones.

After that unwelcome drama, I met up with my sister for tea and cake, and off we went to the specialist consultation.  Last time I was there, I was warned that the best case scenario after my initial three months of post-op therapy was a lot of upcoming pain and botheration for myself, friends and family. I'd been advised by my palliative nurse to not go to this meeting alone, so my sister was there to pick me up and get me home if the news was too bad and I was reduced to a puddle on the floor. However, when we walked into the consult, we were faced with a grinning surgeon and a smiling medical student. The surgeon announced that she was very pleased with the scan. My sister and I looked at each other in bafflement. We were primed for bad stuff, so it took a moment to sink in. Then our questions of the 'what do you mean by pleased' type started.

 Apparently, I've beaten the odds. Apparently, I've responded so well to the initial treatment that I'm well on my way back to good health. Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine (although my sister and I have a theory that last week's horse riding helped too), bad things have disappeared. Other bad things have reduced significantly in size. It happens sometimes, said the surgeon. I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm pretty much standing on the treeline and looking out at the world and feeling very much like a part of it again for the first time in over ten months. I'll continue with my present therapy and checkups for another 3-6 months, but my team of medicos are quite confident I'll be as right as rain soon.

You cannot believe the relief I'm feeling. I can hardly believe it myself. I hadn't realised just how wound up I was. This is so amazing!!!! If I never win tattslotto, that's okay. I'm more than happy for the universe to siphon all my lottery luck into my continued good health.

So now I can breathe again. I can be calm. I can plan. I can purge all those twisty dark thoughts and free up my brain to WRITE again! Watch out anthologies of the world, here I come. Gitte is back in the game! Or at least she will be very soon.

All the Fowl News That's Fit to Print

Front page local news that's rocking the community: only 10 days after acquiring their new chook Twinkle, the kids at a local preschool arrived to find that a thief had snuck in overnight and stolen their  much-loved egg layer.The police were called in, the crime scene was investigated (there were signs of breaking in, so it definitely wasn't just a case of a wandering chook gone MIA). The kids drew identikit pictures of the missing Silky Bantam for the cops. "Why would anyone want to take our Twinkle?" said the sad and confused littlies to local reporters, their tender young hearts hurting as they learn a harsh lesson about the human race. Later, the police returned with a replacement chicken called Flossie for the kindergarten kids to look after while the local cops continue to look for Twinkle.

So the hunt is on. I'd hate to be the chicken rustling crim nabbed for nicking this kindergarten pet. I, and everyone for miles around, I imagine,  ask you, what kind of a lowdown scum steals a small, fluffy hen from four year olds? The perp who finally gets nabbed for this fowl crime will face much animosity. I see shadowy figures with pitchforks and flaming torches gathering in the dark around the local lockup, and envision much booing, hissing and tomato-throwing as the dastardly chook thief heads for trial. However, as one recently converted to regarding chickens with affection, part of me worries that our cringing burglar, on the run and frightened by the publicity, might feel compelled to get rid of the incriminating evidence...

Poor Twinkle. One minute as safe and loved as a chicken can ever hope to be, the next nabbed in the dark of night and whisked away to some hillbilly hideout. Life can be tough for a helpless little hen. Indeed, it can be for all of us. We are Spartacus. We are Twinkle.

Here on the home front, the Chook is back after possibly saving the world, but is flightier that ever. She just pops in, demands food, then pops out again. I get no cute antics or clucking background noises in exchange for my sunflower seed investment, and am beginning to feel somewhat exploited. It could just be that she's roving further afield in this beautiful Spring weather - and who isn't tempted to go just one flower-strewn field further when the sun shines so brightly - but if she keeps it up, I might look at renegotiating our co-existence contract.

And in a final bit of chickenfeed news, my sister Cindy has joined the fellowship of fowl-loving folk by acquiring three terribly cute Isa Brown pullets. She calls them Noodle, Nugget and Narky (the one with attitude). Just twelve weeks old, they're still learning what treats they prefer, the intricacies of perching, the art of scratching and scrabbling, and how to flatten when dark shadows pass ominously overhead.

Alas, thinking of the 3N's good fortune at landing a gig at my sister's, and imagining their happy and contented lives, just makes me once more wonder about the fate of poor Twinkle. The life of one little hen might be a small thing compared with the terrible troubles of the world at large, but such everyday tragedies nonetheless have their own validity.

They Should Bottle Horse Riding and Sell it as a Tonic

It'll be another early night for me, once I finish a spot of quick bio updating for the '100 Lightnings' anthology which I've just been informed is nearing completion. I'm very tired, but happy, after a lovely horsey day courtesy of my sister, who kindly ferried me about the countryside to reduce my expending energy on things other than actually horse riding.

There was none of our usual dusk to dawn derring-do wending through the forest at high speeds, but a more sedate 2.5 hour ride with lots of chatting and admiring of the countryside. However, we did trot and canter much more than I thought we would because, after a cautious start to test the waters, it soon became apparent that my poor, putupon internals were, apart from the occasional lurch, behaving themselves impeccably. At no point did I feel the need to scream, or even softly moan, with pain, so we picked up the speed and covered more ground than we'd originally planned. The horses were eager, the weather was grey but balmy, and the rain held off until after our ride was over. 'Twas a goooooood feeling to be back on a horse again.

Afterwards, we hit the jackpot foodwise, in that the people who own the place where we ride were having a family get together, celebrating a christening, and had whipped up lots of good country cooking for the event. My sister and I were waited upon like royalty, and served a selection of delicious homemade terrines with salad and a bread which, once buttered, we couldn't get enough of. But wait, there's more. As we leaned back in chairs on the veranda enjoying our cups of tea and our satisfied tummies as we perused horses shuffling picturesquely in the corals and the gorgeous landscape beyond, well-mannered kids appeared bearing the scrummiest pavlova I've had in years, and yes, it was for us. **

A great ride followed by great food - aaah, life is good!

The loooooong nap I had as soon as I got home was nice too :)

**Update: I realise now that the sequential logic of this sentence leaves much to be desired, the taste reveal coming before the sweet had been confirmed as destined for us, but hey, it was late and I was pooped when I wrote it :)

Gearing Up

I'll be putting on my jammies soon and hitting bed early tonight because - yay! - I'm heading off for a tiny horse ride tomorrow. Tiny as in it'll just be an ever so very very gentle and short 2 hour ride, that is, not as in it in any way involves miniature equines. It'll just be my sister and me, two good horses, the Daylefordian countryside, and hopefully a nice sunny day for clopping at a relaxed pace through the Wombat Forest. I haven't ridden since back in April, before my first operation, so I'm really looking forward to climbing back in the saddle. My gear is all lined up and I'm raring to go. Cross fingers I'm not overextending myself, and that my poor old sliced and diced body is up for it. I think it'll do me a world of good.

But first, I'm going to hunker down in front of the TV, fire up the blu-ray, load up a tray with herbal tea and fresh fruit goodies, and finally watch Another Earth, which I've been meaning to catch for ages. As I've posted on a few occasions, I do love a good SF, mirror planet, doppelganger movie.

HB to Me

So I've been busy. Not busy according to my usual every-micro-second-must-be-packed-with-useful-activities definition of busy, but a substantial-lowering-of-the-bar, post-operative busy as in 'more than one extra thing to do above and beyond the daily routine of eating, napping, going for a walk, napping, doing medical stuff, reading and an hour or two of writing'. I had guests over the weekend, which entailed getting a head start last week with squeezing in additional tasks and initiating a precise plan to feed them. Fortunately, I was provided with back-up support, it was all very low key, and no-one was that fussy anyway.

But it was all worth it because I received presents! I got a lemon tree in a gigantic terracotta pot to add to my collection around the Xmas swing oasis-nook, money for spending on nice things (done yesterday), plus my sister delivered a lovely, hand painted candle lamp from J ( a.k.a. the apple and blueberry crumble making lady), and my littlest brother's boss, whom I don't even know, sent me a huge feel-good hamper full of chocolates, magazines, other assorted goodies, bedsocks and booze, while another of his acquaintances gave me some feng shui articles to promote healing (two very different approaches to getting better, and I appreciate the kindness of both), all of which I can add to the presents given to me earlier for my post-surgery, therapeutic convenience, namely the blu-ray and wide screen TV which have kept me well entertained these past five weeks. A good haul :-)

So yes, I'm a year (plus one day too, now) older, and thank goodness for that. Any person who is ungrateful and ungracious enough to whinge about having to add another 12 months to their age CV is a person with no sense of perspective.

Anyway, it's a beautiful dark and  rainy day, perfect for guilt-free cocooning and recharging my batteries. I plan to polish and sub a hopefully funny story to a spec-fic humour anthology, and, as per usual, keep an excited eye on my emails for possible sales.

I'd Better Get a Move On

The sun is shining and the world looks bright and glorious, but unfortunately I'll have to down the stronger pain killers, hop on a train, and spend the day getting to Melbourne for more hospital business. I'm pooped already just thinking about it.

He he - my sister just texted that I should remember my brolly :) Will do. And once again, thank goodness I'll be getting a lift home.

So I clicked my heels thrice...

Well, if only it were that easy. Without physics-defying, Hollywood slippers for quick teleportation, the troops rallied this morning at my sister's and, after hot beverages and pastries, the day was spent transporting me and mine across our fine state in a more mundane fashion, and then getting us all set up at (there's no place like) home.

So here I am, somewhat battered, bruised, slow of movement and ever-ready for a snooze, but extremely grateful for all the help I've received over the past few weeks from so many people. I shall extol their many virtues tomorrow.

 Right now, you guessed it - another nap.

Out With The Old

If my Internet computer were a person it would look like this:

It creaks and gurgles and groans, and it's just taken over 50 minutes to download an antivirus update and receive a few emails. Okay, one of those emails was full of horse pictures sent by my sister to show me what a great ride I didn't go on  over the weekend, but still, it's definitely time for an upgrade.

I also got a rejection, but an extremely lovely and flattering one along with an invitation to give the antho another shot. My mind is already churning, trying to come up with something suitable.

Wish I Were There

My sister is up on a cold, dark, possibly rainy mountainside right now, and has probably just pitched her tent amidst the stunning surroundings of the Howqua River and had a nice hot shower to wash away the mud deposited by a day of trail riding. Soon there’ll be good food and a fire and chatter and horses moving in the background, but I’m not there *sigh*. I should be there, and I was so looking forward to that weekend ride, which we planned last year, but circumstances would otherwise.

On the other hand, my ‘to be read’ stack just grew significantly taller. As compensation for missing out on a horse fix (boo-hoo) I got a buzz buying a few books at the annual Clunes Booktown get-together. It was, as always, heaven on earth for bibliophiles, with building after building filled with fictional and non-fictional trash and treasure, plenty of bargains for literary shopaholics and the miserly as well as pricey stuff for serious investors adding to their collections, and everywhere, there were crowds of beaming people with bags and boxes loaded with their finds. The Punch and Judy show had the kids howling with glee again, there were musicians to entertain us as we browsed, and there was plenty of lovely food, though some of the frazzled-looking caterers had seriously underestimated the voracious appetites built up by we mighty book hunters when we’re on the prowl and were running out of provisions already around 14.00. They’ll be kicking themselves for days over those lost profits. Me, I'd have had a truckload of backup supplies on hand. Anyway, there were also lots of arts and crafts to give one’s eyes a reprieve from scanning kilometers of book spines.

Throw in a book shop cat whose lashing tail told me she was seriously displeased about the many folk invading her territory but she was darned if she was going to move for them, and it was a fun day out.

And my day wasn't entirely unequine. I did see many horses and ponies on the drive to and from Clunes, and just as I was dropped off at home, two local lasses rode right past my house on their fine steeds. I mention this because Polly, who was waiting for me in the front yard, could not believe her eyes. She backed off, arched her back, hissed, and crouched ready to attack. The girls laughed at her antics. The horses remained utterly unaware of her existence.

Girls' Own Adventures

Our early ride was fantastic and glitch free, but our big, afternoon ride was a series of stamina testing mishaps. First we had hardware failure, and had to turn back and wait for a replacement saddle. When we resumed the ride, my horse and my sister’s horse, which had been swapping as the lead horse without problem, both developed a serious aversion to being out front and setting the pace once we hit the narrow, windy bits through the forest where we usually gallop full pelt. The third horse was new and definitely not up for taking charge (herd instinct and equine hierarchies can be a bugger to negotiate sometimes). We had to work hard to get them halfway up the trail, but were finally defeated by a bridge. All three horses on the ride refused to be the first to go over the creek, and we since we were already running late, we decided to scrap that route, head back and take another path.

Reader, we got lost (and yes, we did have a guide – I’ll say no more.)

The long ride became a very, very long. Calls were made, trail signs were read, but the Wombat Forest is very big, and it took ages to get back to a place we knew, and we were soooooo tired by then. We watched the sun sinking behind the trees with a wary eyes as we rode along, finally hit open land and admired the sun setting over the beautiful Daylesford hills, sang a few cowboyish songs as it grew darker to keep our spirits up, negotiated who would get off to open certain gates and try to get back in the saddle again (I “won” and more “challenges” ensued). On the home stretch we met up with K in his car, and he drove behind to light our way and make us visible for any oncoming traffic.

So, we were tested and forged today, and rewarded with rhubarb muffins and buckets of tea before we headed for home. I suspect I’ll be a tad shakey-legged at the Arvo Job tomorrow.