Fall Semester Recap

 I wrote my last exam on December 5th.

Using every flat surface to review notes from each of the 5 classes.  

3-1/2 months of doing nothing in the evenings and into the wee hours of the morning but studying.

The dogs are my source of strength when I feel like I want to quit.

But even their patience has its limits.  Dax, frustrated that we couldn't go running because I was staring at my notes after work decided to throw half of them to the ground.

The mug on him when I busted him in the act.  He was MAD. 

This semester almost got the best of me.  The Marketing class left me with a better understanding and deeper resentment of advertising.  The Corporate Finance class left me with greater appreciation for the world of economics and more scared of the stock market than before. Management saddened me because apparently flogging lazy employees isn't encouraged, somehow, I'm supposed to shower them with positive incentives. (I tried, not in my DNA, fired 3 people this Fall... better than getting arrested for flogging).  Business Statistical Analysis was tough, but fun.  

You can now give me data and I will spew out probability scenarios.  Very, very cool.  Plus, I love delving into complex formulas.  Now that I'm uncomfortably close to being half a century old, treating my battered body to one physical challenge after another isn't as rewarding as it once was.  I'm no longer able to make gains in the gym or improve my running times.  Physical status quo maintenance is all that's left and it's dull and tedious. That's where learning has taken over in my realm of what can I challenge myself with next. 

In many ways, it's exactly like preparing for an ultra marathon: yearlong, unrelenting training.  I remember heading out at 2 AM to run 22 mile training runs before going to work.  I miss those days, but now I can stay glued to my textbooks until 4 AM, soaking in all this cool stuff I never knew.

Life is such an adventure.  I've passionately hated computers for 25 years, refusing to learn how to even cut and paste until a couple years ago. Rebuffed them outright.  Guess which class has been my favorite? Data Analysis.  I gleaned much enjoyment out of organizing data into different classes and finding correlations, that I completed ALL the extra credit projects.  

99.8% final grade.  I may be in the wrong department, but it's too late to jump ship.  An accounting degree is where I'm headed... perhaps an IT degree can be next.  In January, I begin my senior year.  4 tough Accounting classes and 1 IT class thrown in to keep me sane:  Data Visualization with Tableau. I must know how to do this.  Check out this video and tell me this isn't the most revolutionary manipulation of data.  Geek out with me:

Move over all my marathon heroes, Prof. Rosling is in the house.  I can watch all his Ted Talks over and over again.  By the end of May I will have my industry certification to produce Tableau data manipulations.  Send me your data and Dr. Frankenstein here will be able to make it come to life.

Christmas break is a long 5 weeks this year and I'm going to make the most of every evening applying for more scholarships.  The aggravation is in the wait.  It can be almost a year from application deadline to awarding of the scholarship.  I'll be graduated by the time any money comes my way... if I win any.

 

I'm keeping my fingers crossed.  I've worked really hard for this 3.90 GPA (for you Canadians, that's 94%) grade.  Just like my old racing days, my competitive nature kicks in and I put the pedal to the metal to pass everyone.  (It's a sickness, but I enjoy the Hell out of it).

Time to retire Fall semester notes.

A solemn moment of silence for the ceremony.

Medical Release

 18 months after my first foot surgery, I have been cleared for running.  Truth is I had started trotting around back in Summer, but I'm officially off the chain now!

The 4 screws in my plate are holding firm.

The hole in my heel where they harvested bone for the graft still looks like a donut, but it's not like I slam my heel on the ground anymore...

...not with the bone spurs from years of plantar fasciitis.  Ah, the joys of being on your feet all day, every day for 35 years.

As long as they keep fixing me, I can keep living my life my way.

The nerve damage in my left foot may be permanent.  To be expected after cracking the top of my foot open twice.  It's a strange neuropathy.  Sometimes my toes will unfurl of their own accord, like they'd been run over by a cartoon steam roller, the pain clears my sinuses and then they contract back to normal.  Most times, sensation in my foot is so muted, it's like a whisper.  I have to be very cautious climbing ladders because I usually can't feel if my foot is on a wrung. Adds some excitement to mundane window washing!

First officially sanctioned run Dec 3, 5:18PM

Pedal to the metal, my friends.

Garrett

 My favorite literary character is Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird.  He is the agoraphobic hermit who watched over Jem and Scout, venturing out only once to save their lives. 

I looked from his hands to his sand-stained khaki pants; my eyes traveled up his thin frame to his torn denim shirt. His face was as white as his hands, but for a shadow on his jutting chin. His cheeks were thin to hollowness; his mouth was wide; there were shallow, almost delicate indentations at his temples, and his gray eyes were so colorless I thought he was blind. His hair was dead and thin, almost feathery on top of his head.

This is who Garret became, my Boo Radley. 

The day I found him living under a dock at the farm, barely able to stand he was so weak.

All 33 lbs of him on May 9, 2015.  Heartworm positive, chronic pneumonia and a disgusting skin condition yanked $2500 out of my piggy bank just the first month.  He was promptly put on Trupanion health insurance!

My vet back in the day theorized he'd been used as a bait dog by dog fighters because of all of his scars and infected lesions.  He'd always hated rough housing and would shriek if Cole tried to play with him.  PTSD Garrett.

If only they could talk:  he could tell us how he ended up with a little bullet in his back.

Garrett was the most appreciative, quiet boy.

Deprived his whole life, food became his favorite adventure.

Tomato thief on the garden:

The original Three Amigos:

 Cole and I were still busy trying to complete our runs across America and we gained another travel companion.

For a guy who jumped on the dining room table and tried to break out a window his first time in a house and riding backwards in a car for over a month, he became an expert traveler.  He and Peter trekked through 27 states.

Acadia National Park in Maine.

Detente was more his schtick than bagging peaks and logging miles on trails, but he always gave 100%

From the Atlantic to the Pacific, Garrett had seen it all.

The boys at Jefferson's Monticello in Virginia.

Top of the Smoky Mountains:

Oregon beach:

Garrett patiently put up with Cole and I reveling in Idaho snow.

Back at home, he became my work buddy.  His favorite spot was the front drive of the barn where he could survey his territory.  

Or the front seat of the utility vehicle where he could leisurely watch over me while I worked.

Nary a bark out of his lips, he was the quiet protector.  For a guy who hated confrontation, he was always the first to step up to protect the family unit.

During a Nordic ski trip in Idaho, a dog ran into my lines and jumped Cole.  In the scrum, Peter ended up hog tied in the lines and Garrett jumped the attacking dog and grabbed it by the throat, requiring some persuasion to release him.  We left more than a few drops of blood in the snow that day.

Later that year, a neighbor's pit bull strayed up to the house and attacked Cole.  I beat it mercilessly with a shovel to no avail, before I knew it, Garrett and Peter were in the fray. Outnumbered, it ran away. I knew I'd found my Boo Radley 

Hallowe'en of this year, I noticed something was off with Garrett.  Everything pointed to a problem with his back.

I made him a recovery area where he could still be part of the pack, but he wouldn't be able to jump or run.  Something told me it was more than a slipped disc.  I started insisting on an MRI (remember he has better insurance than I have!).  The vet school neurology dept. refused, backlogged in cases for a month when I presented him with non acute symptoms.  

Undeterred, I scoured the the Southeast for an MRI appointment.  Peter's physiotherapist, Liz, came through with an appointment with a colleague  4 hours from here.  Nov 20th.  I rented an actual church bus for 3 days and planned on taking my pack with me to Huntsville. 

By Sunday before the appointment, Garrett had taken a turn for the worse, he was not walking and I brought him to Auburn once again.  This time, he was admitted as an emergency to the neurology department. He would be fast tracked for an MRI. 

For over a week, I'd promised him I would find a way to make the pain end, he wasn't going to be made to wait for the next available appointment in late December.  It was my turn to fight for my Boo Radley.

This is the last picture of Garrett while we waited at the vet school.  The images basically confirmed he was riddled with multiple myeloma

Will you take me home?

Only words spoken by Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird.  

Sometimes the shittiest thing to do is keep a promise. My Baby G is over the Rainbow Bridge now. 

     Garrett Boo Smith 2010- Nov 16, 2020

Goober

 I live with 5 dogs, one of them is a goober. I don't think he'll ever be normal.

Bless his heart.

Even a trip to the parts store is never dull.

Kentucky Derby in my Own Backyard

 The Boonies might just be my favorite place in the world. 

It's sacred ground.  Over a mile from anywhere on the farm, secluded, quiet, peaceful and some of the best grazing on the land...but how to get to it?

Up until 2 years ago, 3 of us would each mount a horse and pony two more horses to the Boonies in the morning, and back again at night.  Then, our staff changed and I haven't had skilled riders who can pony two horses through the woods, plus I started my epic year and a half of foot surgeries.

Every day I try to make a pilgrimage to the Boonies, as I said, it's my sacred place.  I run dogs there, did my foot rehab there, all the while dreaming of how to get the horses back to it.

By early Summer, I had a plan:  build a corridor from the Back Pasture to the Boonies, lined with electric fencing.  The 1 mile trail already existed, but required widening. Then the fun part of installing posts and insulators.

3 months to fruition.  Never enough time for everything around here, so most weeks, an hour here and there is all that could be devoted to it.  My new sidekick, Luke, helped me make the final push to completion last Thursday..

D-Day on Friday Nov. 6.  Jordan and Luke volunteer to hand walk the horses through the exercise circuit in the morning.

Everyone gets a chance to familiarize themselves with the concept of boundaries.

By afternoon, these fine gentlemen preferred to ride the horses back from the Boonies.

A nice stroll in the woods.

No drama.  Just one 26 year old half blind Appaloosa leading the pack.  Priceless.

ENRICHMENT.  The new buzz word in animal husbandry.  My philosophy has always been to let them live their best life:  ensure they have the best food, coziest shelter, lots of love, dedicated vet, buddies of their own kind and adventure. 

Did we ever get enrichment on Saturday morning. Alone at work, I theorized I could split the herd in half:  ride Angus and lead 3 horses to the Boonies by myself.  Took forever.  Cody kept dallying, we had to go back for him several times.  They all walked excruciatingly slow.

The second wave consisted of the last 4 horses.  I elected to ride a 20 year old warmblood called Titan. I'd never ridden him before.  Up until 2 years ago, we didn't jive.  The more I tried to coerce him to like me, the more he treated me like a common Waffle House waitress.  Then, it happened, Titan decided to start shadowing me, nuzzling me, simply enjoy my space.  We'd bonded.  I wanted to test that bond. We travelled at a walk for a couple hundred yards, then it turned into The Man From Snowy River  for the entire mile.  

I've galloped a Thoroughbred in an arena.  Nothing compares to racing through the woods, up and down hills. Titan's hackamore bridle is bitless.  Keeps people from needlessly pulling on his mouth, unfortunately doesn't have much stopping power either.  

At one point, I was in a galloping scrum of 4 horses.  I could've reached out to touch each of them...All of them at the same beat, their heads moving in symmetry.  It's the most beautiful moment I've ever been a part of.  

For the return trip, I decided to wear a helmet.  Duh.  And a Go Pro. 

And this day shall go down in history as one of the best days of my life.  By trying to give the horses I love a little enrichment, I'm the one who gained the most.

Soon, I'll be attempting to get them to slow down and build muscle, instead of hurtling through the woods.  That was never the plan.

Regardless, I've had my Man from Snowy River moment.  Taken from a 1982 movie, it's the ride I've always dreamt of.

Tip of the hat to my new BFF, Titan.  The bond between us is indeed solid.  

Diversity and Inclusiveness

 Terms I've learned from my Business Management course.  I've always called it 'different'.  As a neighbor commented on the staff that's come through the farm, 'an assortment of folks', he called it. What can I say, I like there to be variety in everything, it makes life richer. I love different!

That not only translates to staff, but the little biome here at the farm.  A tenacious patch of passionflower vines has established itself in one of the pastures.  

The previous manager once told me the only thing to get rid of it is 2-4D.  As soon as he left, I properly disposed of all his 2-4D and the host of chemicals he doused this place with. 

As long as it's not taking over or toxic to the horses, the passionflower vine was invited to stay.  Why? This is why:

Zebra Butterflies.

The caterpillar of the zebra butterfly only eats one thing:  passionflower vines.  The butterflies can get nectar from flowers, but they can never morph into a butterfly without passionflower vines.  

I'd read that their range was now limited mostly to Florida, but I waited for 5 years to see if maybe,  just maybe, my little patch of passionflower vine could sustain a new colony.

Jackpot.  We've been practicing diversity and inclusiveness for 6 years here on the farm.  Didn't need a textbook to instruct me on how it makes everything better.

Roscoe

 The neighbors and I joke that Murphy and his Laws live on our road.  Seems he's been on steroids lately.  The culmination of the most arduous, dreadful two weeks:  we had to say goodbye to sweet 22 year old Roscoe.

The bloody nose from the week before had been the harbinger of ill fate.  The colic was only a response to the fluid building in his lungs, not the primary condition.

I had worried he would decline after, Henry, his best friend in the whole wide world passed.  

Now they're reunited.