I’ll Show You How It’s Done

When I was in college, one of the requirements (of the HTM program) was to go on an internship.  For most of us this was a 6 month job interview.  So the hope was to learn something and come out of it with a job at the end.  At the time I was completely enamored with cutting horses.  So I chose one of the only trainers to ever win the triple crown of the cutting industry (for those that don’t know, this is the Futurity, Derby and the Classic).  I won’t use the name of the trainer; we’ll just call him Jim.  Everyone who knows me should know who this is, but if you don’t…sorry, don’t have permission to use his name.  I won’t tell any untruths, but the truth can be ugly sometimes.  I will use my friends names (again, no lies about what we did), but I can’t consider Jim a friend.

The Number One Killer Of Men

As I prepare for my yearly physical, I think back to my first time.  By first time, I mean the first time I had the physical men get when they turn 40.  For most men this is a painful degrading experience.  Men, TAKE NOTE:  You will get no sympathy from women.  They start when they are about 35 and get another examine, get them to tell you about it sometime.  Makes you shudder.

Mine was no less degrading and of course Felicia laughed and teased me about it for at least a month before it was to happen.  Now it was not the first time, I have had a colonoscopy.  The doctor told me I could do that one awake or asleep.  I told him he was sticking a hose up my behind, put me to sleep.  I don’t want to know anything about it.

I know that both examines are pretty important, colon cancer kills!   Still I did not look forward to the visit.  I have heard plenty of stories from friends about some of the reactions they have had, which I will not go into here.  I just prayed mine would be somewhat less degrading.

My doctor looks like he is at least 12 or 13, we call him Doogie.  Is it a sign of old age when everyone that is younger than you looks like they are 12?  But he is a pretty good doctor, even if I have to go to downtown Houston to see him.  AND on the plus side, he does have small fingers!

So, the visit……started out by giving blood…simple, I’m a good bleeder.  Next, go to the examine room and remove your clothes (Made me think about the first time I went to a massage therapist for my back…she said remove what you are comfortable with, so I took off my hat!).  I’m now standing there in my underwear and hat (ha! Just kidding…I didn’t have underwear on!).  He does all the normal things…feels my throat, listens to my heart, pokes around on my belly and “turn your head & cough”.  I sure wanted to bolt and run so as to avoid the next part…

I Yelled Ugly Names At Her The Whole Time

Back when we lived on Highway 350, in La Junta, we had a long driveway.  At least it seemed that way for me.  As a 6^th or 7^th grader I tended to be a little lazy.  Who would have guessed that?  It was pretty inconvenient for me when Mom and Dad asked/made me do things.  So anytime I could argue back (or whine as the case may be), I took the opportunity.  This led to some discipline.  I liked my Mom’s, she would give me a spanking and BAM!  It was over with.  Dad was a whole lot more creative with his disciplines.  Some had to do with carrying rocks, kind of like in Cool Hand Luke (yes, Boss).  All of them involved some form of work!  Which leads to this story….

Flame and His Two Torches

When I was in 5^th or 6^th grade, in La Junta just off of Highway 350, Dad was always big on burning the ditches and fence lines.  Of course, being two impressionable boys, Cully and I couldn’t wait for the time of year for this to happen.  It meant we could play with fire and not get into trouble.  Play with fire…there’s a statement that can only lead to trouble.

To preface this a little, I was the kid who always wanted to burn something.  Playing with the wax, in candles, was a lot of fun.  I still get into trouble now at 43, for playing with candles.  Sometimes, I think it’s a wonder I didn’t burn down the house!  Once I poured a gallon coffee can about half full of gas, while standing in the garage, and lit it on fire.  It was pretty cool, got the big whoosh…watched it burn for a while…pretty cool!   Then my brain power kicked in.  I knew I would get into trouble for playing with fire (never crossed my mind it was even worse if you start fires in the house!), so I leaned over the top of the can (about 6-8 inches away), took a deep breath and tried to blow it out.  Funny how a little oxygen in a fire makes the flames leap up around your head!  I’ll tell you what, it doesn’t take long to look at a can full of gas!  After running in the house to see if I still had eyebrows and hair (I did, thankfully!  I knew I couldn’t hide the fact I was playing with fire if I didn’t have any hair!), I ran back to the garage where I had left the can burning (duh, fire in the house…) and tried to think of a way to put it out!  The fire was just sitting there, cheerily burning what little gas remained in the can…stupid fire.  It finally dawned on me that if I put another can over the top of this one, it would smother the fire out.  Bingo…hair on the face and head, fire out and no one the wiser!  At least that is what I choose to believe, until now when I have confessed on my own terms.

The Only Spanking I Didn't Deserve

There has been a lot of traffic insinuating this story and thought it would be a good time to tell.  This is how I remember it and my sister can dispute this all she wants.  Cully and I are witnesses for what happened.

When I was growing up south of La Junta, in Higbee (Colorado), we pretty much had free rein to go anywhere we wanted to go (BB Gun Wars and Paintball)….which we did most of the time. Strange as it may seem, none of us knew how to swim.  So there were certain places we could not go, the Purgatory River being one of them.  That is strange in and of itself because I just don’t remember there being that much water in it most of the time.  When it flooded, it got pretty high, but on the norm it was pretty shallow where it went behind our house.  Needless to say, us boys went down there all the time.  Mom was always telling us to stay off the river.  I think the fact that she couldn’t swim either, scared her a lot when us boys were gallivanting around the country side.

But the focus of this story was a pond.  Not just any pond, but one that was less than 2 feet deep.  The bottom 12-14 inches being mud and the tip 6-8 inches being water.

We Were So Intelligent, It’s A Wonder We Didn’t Die

It funny what comes to your mind when you start writing things down.  When I was pretty little, from the time I can remember until the early part of my second grade year, we lived down the road from my Grandparents farm and the other Grandparents lived across the yard from us.  This was outside Loveland, Colorado: just down the road from Lonetree Resevior. 

Now this was a pretty good deal for a growing boy or two in the case of my brother and me.  We used to eat breakfast at home, then run down and have Grandma Dennee feed us, then it was back to Grandma Johnson’s to eat again (and this was just breakfast, we used to try to hit the trifecta for all three meals).  I wonder now why Mom and Dad said they had such a big feed bill with Cully and I, they only fed us a third of the time! HA!

Trying to Get To The Dreaded 9

Haven't done any writing all week because my j-o-b has interfered with my fun...again!   I worked all week at the international shipments desk and I will be very excited to have the gentleman that normally works there back on Monday.

At one point I found myself yelling at the computer animated voice on the other end of the line.  It was for a very well known small package carrier and I do have to say that their phone system is not very user friendly.  Or ast least to me it wasn't user friendly (surely I am not the problem!)  I have heard a lot of people make fun of them, but until you get the chance to be in it....its not that funny!

"Hello, you have reached the automated filing system for XYZ Delivery.  For shipments inside the US, Canada or Mexico: press 1.  For all other shipments press 4".

Four...??  What happened to 2 and 3?  Oh well, still pretty simple....I pressed 4.

"For shipments going to the Europe, press 1.  For shipments going to the Pacific Rim, press 2.  If you want to speak to an operator, please press 9".

Good deal, a live person.  I pressed 9.

  "Hello, you have reached the automated filing system for XYZ Delivery.  For shipments inside the US, Canada or Mexico: press 1.  For all other shipments press 4".

Heck, I must have pressed the wrong button.  So here I am going back through the whole thing again, because I don't get the option at the first step to talk to a live person.  Still pretty calm, still early in the day and my blood pressure has not yet been raised.  I get to the point of pressing 9 for the live operator and BAM.  The blood pressure starts to raise.

  "Hello, you have reached the automated filing system for XYZ Delivery.  For shipments inside the US, Canada or Mexico: press 1.  For all other shipments press 4".

Ok, I know what button I pushed!   So I yell at the phone, " I want to talk to a live person"  (yeah, I know....doesn't do a lot of good).  So I start back through the whole proccess, carefully checking each of the buttons I needed to push.  Get to the dreaded 9 and BAM....

  "Hello, you have reached the automated filing system for XYZ Delivery.  For shipments inside the US, Canada or Mexico: press 1.  For all other shipments press 4".

AAARRRGGHHH!  (Do people even say that anymore?)  At this point I am yelling at the phone and banging it on the desk.  Back through the whole process to the dreaded 9.  If I get the welcome message again I am going home!   And then......

"This is C, how may I help you?" 

Well I am now in an ugly mood because I have been to the dreaded 9 about 6 times and I wanted to tell her that I needed help putting the phone somewhere.  BUT, the saner side of me says, "she wasn't the one who kept putting you back to the welcome message, don't take it out on her."  Stupid sane side....she was probably sitting there with her buddies saying, "here he comes again, wonder how many times I can put him back to the welcome message before he strokes out?"  

I was so glad the day was finally over, well this was probably only about15-20 minutes.....but it felt like it was longer.  Now I will admit that I have taken some liberties with the drama on this, but the process was still the insane....er, same! 

Don't even get me started on the websites.....

Its Always Funny When It Happens to Someone Else...Rev 2

I suppose my friends could tell some pretty good stories about me, maybe someday one of the will.  But, since this is my blog.....I get to tell stories about them.  I may or may not change the names to protect the not so innocent.  If you were there with me, you will know whose name is real and not!

This one has some second hand info from another friend (does that make him a second hand friend?  Just asking, I don't know.)  He was the one who actually saw the incident happen and I have already written about him, so I will use his name.

One of the requirements of the course, we took at Lamar, was working your colt on the weekend.  If you weren't going to be there you had to find some one to work it for you.  Typically there were a few of us that didn't go home to much or in this case lived locally, that fell into this duty.  There was a young lady that went home and she asked one of my buddies (we'll call him Rod) to work her horse.  Now, I don't know if there were ulterior motives for him to work her horse or not.  But, he did say he would do it.  Something he would regret for the next day or two or five!

Rod and Guy were both working in seperate round pens, they were side by side, and it was plenty cold.  Cold enough that you could see your breath in the air and I was afraid my weak little mustache was going to freeze off!  Needless to say, it was only Rod and Guy outside!  According to the story Guy tells, the horses were feeling pretty good.  Snorting and pitching around the pens!  At some point Rod got a little fusterated at the colt he was working and started pushing him a little.  Guy said he heard a "thump" and saw Rod get kicked in the " $%^& "!  Yep, you guessed it!  Same place as all those people get hit on America's Funniest Videos.

Now, here is where the story starts to get a little fuzzy.  According to Guy, he immediately leaped over the two fences to check on Rod.  According to Rod, he climbed the first fence and then started laughing so hard he had to stop in between!   Who knows what the truth is?!?  Rod always said it was a good thing he only got kicked once..If the horse had kicked again, he would have gotten kicked in the head (that wouldn't have been near so funny as the first kick) because he could not stand up or move!

Rod wobbled/crawled/was carried to the barn office and laid up the rest of the morning.  When I saw him, slowly coming down the stairs, he was as white as a ghost.  I wanted to feel sorry for him, I really did.  But I couldn't stop smiling...which eventually turned into laughing...laughing loudly......

Poor ol' Rod.....he really failed to see the humor in it!  We "medicated" him most of that day and the next two, but it was probably a week before he felt good enough to come back down to the barn.  Needless to say, the horse and the girl were not his favorite people after that.  I think the girl was just guilt by assocation!  On the bright side there was no permanent damage, he had 3 kids later on in life!  Rod was the one who always seemed to get hurt on our little excursions....might have to write about those later on.

A Horse, A Pair of Spurs and A 58 Ford Truck

After the couple of incidents Dennis, Guy and I had with the two mares (Remembering a Friend / She Bucked for Half Mile and Really Honestly....She Never Bucks With Me), the gentleman that owned the ranched decided they would not make a stagecoach team.

On a side note, this guy would buy 100 head of corriente steers and charge people to trail drive them into Cheyenne, for Cheyenne Frontier Days.  He supplied horses, saddles and food for 20 people to be cowboys for a week.  Made about $1000 a man to do this.  He would then sell the steers and bring horses and saddles back to Lamar.  One year he had planned to have a stagecoach and do day rides for people to watch.  That was our year.

Anyway, after he decided that the bay mare would not make a stage team horse (should have sent her to Cheyenne as a bucking horse, might have done pretty good at that!), he had Dennis and I haul her to the sale barn.  He said, "Boys, bring her home if she doesn't bring $700"  So off we went.  Woohoo!  Someone else was buying dinner, what a deal!

It started at the sale barn.  I was driving and turned to sharp for the goose neck trailer we were pulling, peeled the fender off of someone's trailer!  Dang!  But, being the upstanding citizens we were at that time....we told no one!  No one saw it, so it didn't happen!  (kinda like the "if a tree falls in the forest" thing).  We really thought that would be the worst of it.....

Dennis rode the mare through and the scale in the sale ring was jiggleing and shaking.  Due (I would like to think, anyway) to our superior horsemanship skills, so she wanted to keep her feet on the ground.  She only brought $400.  Man, couldn't these people see that the snorting, twitching, bug eyed mess in the sale ring was a fine piece of horse flesh?  Dennis even got brave (stupid?) enough to take the bridle off and ride her in the ring!  There were no takers to go higher than $400.  So, we loaded her into the trailer and headed off to supper.....at the Hogs Head.....

We "ate" supper for about 2 hours and met some gentlemen that were wanting to make a horse trade!  After much haggling, argueing and "toasting"....we decided on the mare and my spurs for a 58 Ford pickup.  First thing we did was go to their house and drive the truck around, man it was a cherry!  Completely refurbished and ready to roll!  While Dennis and I drove around, the fellas went inside and invited thier wives to come down to the Hogs Head and look at thier new horse.  (probably should have stopped that little item from happening).  After we got back, Dennis pulled me aside and said he thought he could come up with half of the $700 for the mare.  Well, being the semi-intelligent young man that I was...I figured that left me with $350 to raise.  I think we both thought we had enough friends and family that we could pull this off!  We toasted the deal and shook hands!  I really believe the guys were pretty excited about thier new horse.  Heck, I knew Dennis and I were pretty excited about our new truck!   Then the party died, their wives showed up!  Probably decided they needed to stop the two idiots that lived in town from trading with two idiots that had a horse!   Boy, they really kiboshed the deal....we were bummed!

But, beings how the deal had taken 2 hours and a fair amount of alcohol was ingested....we got over it!  We loaded back into our truck and headed back to Lamar (the Lord was with us because neither of had any business behind the wheel.  I apologize for that now!)  Once we had delivered the mare back to her pen, we did what any normal collge kids(well normal for our group, anyway) would do after a night like that.....we headed back to another party at the dorm!  Looking back at this and looking forward to the fact that I will have kids in college in a few years, I DO NOT CONDONE THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR!  It was just two wild cowboys, who didn't have a lick of sense!  And since I will have girls in college I will just say......boys have cooties, girls....just stay away from them!

Remembering a Friend / She Bucked for a Half Mile

Just found out today a friend from college died back in 1998.  Got me to thinking about some of the fun we had when we were in college.  Most people go to college, but I doubt they had as much fun as we did back then!

In a previous posting Honestly...She Never Bucks with Me I mentioned Dennis.  Dennis was the kind of guy that would help you no matter what, so it made you want to help him.  I have a lot of stories about Dennis, and most will never see print (as Johnny Cash said,"You don't tell everything").  The mare Dennis rode in that posting was a big strong bay mare, I think she was about 7 (barely green broke).  We, of course, were young, tough buckaroos....never got bucked off, ect.  After we rode all of those long yearlings, old school...snubbing them to a post, cinching them up and turning them loose.  Those young horses really couldn't buck all that hard, which really gave us huge egos!  By golly, there wasn't a horse that could buck us off after that.  The first day we rode the bay mare, she did great saddling up...we really thought we were only going to be legging her up to turn the two of them into a stagecoach team.  Ha!  If  we only knew!  Headed out into the pasture and struck a long trot.  Man, everything was going great!  Dennis suggested we kick them up into a lope, my filly picked up a lope and was as smooth as glass (Contrary to what Guy might say, he spoke about her lineage - check the link above).  I looked over and Dennis was grabbing leather, Ol' Bay had her head down and looked like she was trying our for the Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo!  WOW, could she buck!  Dennis never said a word, but he was grabbing at everything that went by trying to pull her head up.  And of course, it was happening to someone else, so I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen!  Well, I loped along beside the NFR qaulifing attempt for about a half a mile before Dennis  got her head up.  Curiously, he used the same language that Guy used a week or two later to describe the mare I was riding, looking back I didn't even know the two mares were related!  I think the only reason she stopped bucking, besides being a little tired, was the fence that we came to!  I really couldn't tell who was breathing harder and I give Dennis all the credit, he never suggested we trade (Like I would fall for that).  After the first episode, Ol' Bay never bucked like that again...she did buck about every other time he rode her, just not like the first time.  Needless to say neither of the mares ever made a stagecoach team.  Hmmm....that might have something to do with the two hon-yocks that were riding them...nah, it was the horses.  We ended up taking them to the sale and that is another story that involves a trade, a 58 Ford truck and a pair of spurs!  Might have to tell that one sometime....

Dennis Weis  1967-1998  A good friend.

On My Hands and Knees, Staring at Puke...

There's an attention getting title!  As life changes around you and I guess we change with it, there are just certain things I never thought I would be doing!  To preface my night/early morning I will say that I used to be a sympathetic puker.  See it, hear it or smell it...I was participating.

Early this morning, 3AM to be exact, we heard that sound that no parent can't help but to spring out of bed and run down the hall.  I, of course, am talking about one of your kids getting sick.  I have often wondered why alarm clock companies don't record that and attach it to an alarm clock?  No one would ever be late again, no parents anway!  I digress, I flipped the lights on in the hall and saw Faith standing there puking....which is some better because she used to try to run to the bathroom, which leads to a trail.  Ugh!  Felicia, immediately starts to gag........dang my cast iron stomach!   So, I'm on my hands and knees staring at the mess I get to clean up.  I say "I" because if Felicia had to clean it up there would be twice a much!   And as I listened to Felicia, from the other room, ask if I need anything (someone else do clean it up would be nice!) I started to wonder how I got from being a sympathetic puker to the clean-up guy?

It's Funny When It Happens To Someone Else

Got an email from and old friend after my last post, we laughed remembering how that mare was not supposed to buck.  He said anytime someone brings him a horse to ride and says "it never bucks", he thinks about that day.  It got me to thinking about some of the (funny now) wrecks that we had back then.  I specifically remember a horse that we called Ol' Red (even though he was only a 2YRO).

When the horses were brought in for us to start, they were unassigned.  Meaning you didn't know which one you would get.  Our instructors would assign them based on our ability as riders.  I would say horsemanship abilities, but thinking back...we didn't have much of that.  Our best feature was probably that we were young, limber and bounced when we hit the ground.  Anyway, before they were assigned we had to get them out of the stalls to exercise them.  Well Ol' Red was a little on the wild side....he was brought in an open stock trailer and ran down the alley to a stall.  Pretty much untouched.  Guy drew the short straw to exercise him and when he opened the stall, Red reached out with his front foot and removed some buttons from Guys jacket!  Guy shut the stall door, with saucer like eyes and said, "I do believe he is exercised!"

Really, Honestly...She Never Bucks With Me

I am working a youg horse right now and I think back to how I used to do it before age and brains came together.  I don't think much of the way I used to start colts, but at the time it was fun!

When I was in college, a buddy (we'll call him Dennis) and I were hired to put a few rides on some long yearlings and ride a couple of older horses to leg them up.  The owner of the ranch wanted to use the older horses for a stagecoach team.  So we started with the long yearlings.  We did it the old fashioned way, tied them to a snubbing post, blindfolded them, and crawled in the middle.  It was a lot of fun, we were young and made of rubber.  To get bucked off of long yearlings wasn't a big deal.

Are You Smarter Than A 6th Grader?

Haven't written here in a few days, but I was really struck by what I did not "remember", this morning. 

My girls were studying their Language for a test this morning.  They were talking about imperative sentences, implied you, excalamatory sentences, etc.  What?  Is this another language, what are you talking about?  I realized I could not help them one bit, if they passed the test it was all them.  How did this happen?  Did they not teach it when I was in school?  That had to be the case.....along with the whole walking up hill both ways in waste deep snow thing!

Then it crossed my mind how much I "enjoyed" english when I was in school.  It was just one more burden I had to bear at that time.  Could it be that I just wasn't paying attention?  Surely not, I was attentive in school (mostly, I think).  I still remember some of the history I was taught....I think.  I still remember William Jennings Bryan ran for president a long time ago.  Hmmm....seems I remember that name because of an episode of trying to look through my eye lids (teacher accused me of sleeping...the nerve of him).  I remember some of the math....what I still use today.  Wait, I couldn't help Faith with math last week.  Something about adding fractions....

After all of these ruminations, it appears I was not a very good student.  I did just enough to stay out of trouble at home.  Which leads to this thought.  If you don't have a college education, you're probably not going to get a very good job.  So we are going to push our kids to have really good grades and try for every scholarship that might be available.

Wait...I know something I can help them with in school, no...nevermind.  Even the ag classes have changed.

Time Flys When You Are Having Fun

Turned 43 today.  How did I end up this old?  There are some milestones I remember.....

When I was 10, couldn't wait to turn 16.  That seemed like the best age, you were old enough to ge a drivers license.  When I was 18, couldn't wait to turn 21.  Well, you should know that reason.  When I was 26, had a huge problem with being almost 30.  I will say, this was probably one of my best years (other than the problem with 30).  It was the year I came to know my savior, Jesus Christ!  When I was 31, my girls were born.  Now I'm 43.  When did this happen? 

I still see myself as being young, still don't see myself as an older gentleman.  But there are signs, I have noticed all of the 3rd-5th grade kids that I taught in sunday school, are now starting to get married.  My neice (she was our first kid) is now 21 and going to college, seems like yesterday she was one and up to her elbows in a cooler full of ice at our wedding.  Yesterday, or so it seems in my mind, I carried my girls out of the delivery room and they fit from my hand to my elbow.  Now Faith is as tall as her mother and Alicia is not far behind.  Felicia and I recently celebrated our 20th anniversary, I still feel like a newlywed (I prefer to think she does too).  I guess if you were paying attention, there were some years that passed.

All this to say....Time flys when your having fun!

BB gun wars and paintball....

It has come to my mind lately (as I get older) how much my body and level of pain tolerance has changed.  I seem to get sick more often and falling off of a horse causes more pain than it is worth sometimes.  I think back to my childhood...way back, well not soo far back....

When we lived in Higbee, Colorado there were some friends of Cully and I's that we used to run all over those canyons with.  There wasn't much we didn't do from rock wars to BB gun wars (try that nowadays and child protective services would be at your door asking what kind of parent you are...letting your kids throw rocks!).  I don't ever remember getting hurt or even anyone getting an eye put out.  We had one TV channel on good days, so we spent all of our time outside.  You learned things about yourself and your friends, like how far they could throw.  Seemed like we couldn't be hurt!

Moth Balls Are Terrible Breath Mints....

Back when my kids were just starting to walk, my wife had job function that required her to be out of town every other week for about 3 months.  So my kids (twin girls) had a lot of Daddy time.  My first reaction was one of a little bit of fear.....alone, by myself....with 2 year olds!?!?!  How could she...but I got over that pretty fast (I do like being a Dad).  So, on with the moth ball story...

One night we had just finished supper and Faith, the oldest, came to me and said "I no like candy".  Well the first thing I noticed was the bad breath, I'm talking dead dragon, 15 feet is way to close breath!   Then I thought where did she get candy?  Then noticed the white thing in her mouth and had her spit out out into my hand.  When it hit my hand, it dawned on me what it was....panic!  Is she poisoned, do I need to get to the hospital now.....what to do first?  I called my sister-in-law, who is a pharmacy tech and is our all knowing when it comes to meds, and she called poison control.  Never thought of that....note to self: write that number down.  She immediately called me back and said not to panic.....ha, to late!  Turns out, while not good for you and can make you sick, moth balls will not kill you!  But where did she get it.....duh, I had put them under the house (we had a mouse problem and they don't like the smell either).  I must have dropped one or Faith crawled under the house, either way she had it in her mouth!  Thank God, she was ok! 

I guess there are two lessons to be learned here:

1.  Always pay attention to what your kids put in their mouths.
2.  Moth balls are terrible breath mints.

I thought I married for money......

Why would anyone write a blog?  Being slightly computer illiterate, one would wonder why me, what would I have to offer? 

I started the first one as way to communicate to my customers on the progress of their horses.  After doing this a couple of times, I started wanting to expound (big word there) on what I was writing.  Not just the details of the ride, but my personal veiws on life and some stories I lived in my past.  Then I thought "who would read it?"  Then my ego kicked in and said "does it matter?"  So ego won out and I decided that I would start another blog.  So if your reading this, be prepared for just about anything (PG rated, usually) that crosses my mind.  Its possible I will write about my life now or sometimes something that has happened in the past (once the statute of limitations has run out).  I will continue my other blog, Cory Johnson Horsemanship, since it is the tool for communicating to some of my customers.