I write this blog for two reasons – to answer the question of “how did the move go?” and to apologize to everyone who put up with me during the first week of our lives at Journey’s End.
On the eve of our move, I knew it was my last free time for a while, so Doug and I had dinner at home and watched Fight Club. Little did I know how prophetic it would be. If you haven’t seen this move, quit reading now, as I am about to spoil the ending. Or continue to read, it’s your call, but see the movie anyway, it’s a good flick.
So here’s the spoil –this 1999 movie, starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton and Helena Bonham Carter, chronicles the narrator, mild-mannered office worker, as he slips into schizophrenia and back. Tyler, his alter ego, in true Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde fashion, couldn’t be more different than he is. Tyler is brash and pushy, and people flock to him. He instigates Fight Club, an all-male, down-and-dirty brawl club, and goes on to build a global organization to spread anarchy. But what makes the movie so great is this—until the end, the audience and the narrator (he never gets a name, by the way, which I find a really fun literary trick) think Tyler and he are two different people. The movie foreshadows Tyler’s emergence with one-frame blips of Tyler reclining in various scenes, until he emerges as a fully-fleshed out character, who rescues the narrator from stressful situations with aggressive ease, and is finally vanquished at the end of the movie.
With this move, I think I may have found my personal Tyler. Let’s call her Tylene.
Flash one – Wednesday, day one of the move, as we are loading horses, I need to make a last-minute change in trailering order. The trailer owner was unhappy with my choice. Tylene emerged, and did a not-so-tactful “that’s the way it’s going to be.” By the time we arrived at Journey’s End, I was back in charge, and apologized.
Flash two –Thursday, day two of the move. The gal I hired to do stalls doesn’t show up. I cancel my morning lesson and Amy, my amazing groom and faithful sidekick, hump out the stalls, then make another run to Red Bridge for stall mats (I hate stall mats, on many levels). Someone calls to ask how the move is going, and Tylene grabs my vocal cords and announces, “I’m not leaving this f*&^ farm until I sit on a horse, and it may be midnight before that happens.” Not exactly the reply they were expecting….
I did manage to hop on two training horses, Miss Perfect Secret and Turbo-Flash, who both worked well, despite the new digs and the multiple-personality rider.
Friday I called Apryl, a student who has been looking for work, and she jumps in as stall help. I teach a bunch of lessons, and actually managed to ride everyone. My horses (the ones only I ride) did an Ange/Tylene also – Venus and Sling, the hot potatoes, who I expected to be loony, were good as gold. Silhouette and Eclipse, my steady horses, were very full of themselves. Schizophrenia is apparently contagious.
Flash three – Saturday the weekend stall help had schedule problems, so again I’m mucking, and the time is ticking on getting out of Red Bridge. I had hoped to finish moving by the weekend, but after doing barn chores and teaching my lessons, I made one trip to Red Bridge, not the 3 I had planned. Linda and Catharine jumped in to help, not only with the chores and moving, but formed a human shield between me and my clients. Without them, random Tylene flashes may have run everyone off by the end of the weekend. My business thanks them.
Sunday morning, I had two goals—integrate Silhouette into turnout, and get the rest of the stuff out of Red Bridge. When my mucking help texted again that she had schedule problems, Tylene took over. Linda and I had planned a 10:30 start to finish getting stuff out of Red Bridge. After chores were finished, it happened at 1.
We pulled back in to Journey’s End, and I see two students finishing their rides, and instantly, my emotions churn. I’m like an addict surrounded by users, and I burn with jealousy. They are happily enjoying their horses, and I’m covered with dirt and schlepping SFD’s stuff, stuff they enjoy utilizing (cavaletti, mounting block, first aid supplies, extra blankets, the list goes on and on), and I haven’t had my horse fix yet. I was not in a good mental place.
A student comes up to tell me how much she loves the place, and thank me for bringing her trunk over, and can I help her take it up to the loft, and I lose it. Tylene is firmly in control now.
I actually stomped my feet and threw a hissy fit worthy of a 3-year-old. “No. I’m not doing another thing until I take care of my own d*%^ horse. You’ll just have to wait.”
That caught everyone’s attention. Suddenly everyone had a moment to help unload the truck and trailer. Score one for Tylene.
By Tuesday, a fellow wandered into Journey’s End looking for stall work—I hired him, and put Apryl on horse care duty--changing blankets, swapping turnout, scrubbing water tubs, washing horses for clipping, etc, all the stuff that makes us full-service boarding and not just feed-and-muck boarding.
Within days, a rhythm emerges, and we get stuff put away and the horses settle in, and training gets back on schedule. Tylene moves back into the shadows.
In Fight Club, the narrator vanquishes Tyler because he falls in love with a rather quirky woman. The rhythm of life at Journeys’ End does the same for me. I fall in love the footing and mirror placement in the indoor, I fall in love the huge fields to hack around, I fall in love the full-size permanent dressage arena, and I fall in love with being in complete control of my horse’s care again. I fall in love with running SFD at Journey’s End, and Tylene is vanquished. I hope for good.