Montana
I had a very funny, very short conversation with a dude at a bar last night. I was at Baileys, celebrating a friends wedding. I was in full on introvert forced to be extroverted mode, and rather overwhelmed with it, so I kept making excuses to get up and get away from the group I was with. During one of those gasping for air forays, I saw an old acquaintance at the bar. He is someone who I've talked to numerous times, and always had great conversational chemistry with. He's also one of those people who you'll never know if they'd be good in bed because you'll never go to bed with them and that drives you a little crazy and makes them seem like they're going to be better in bed than they probably are. We're curious about each other, but he's got a girlfriend and he's not a dick, so...
Anyways, he waved when he saw me, and I went over to say hi. We chatted a bit about how things were for both of us, and he asked me how my travels had been going. I said great, and that I was going to be heading to Montana shortly.
He paused, and said "Montana, eh? In the winter... that sounds like fun."
I laughed, and paused and thought about it, and said "Yeah. Arizona in the summer and Montana in the winter. I like things easy."
Then we both laughed, and it was a lot funnier than it sounds now writing it out, though maybe the funny was only in my head. ANYWAYS. It got me thinking.
I've been picking some really fucking challenging challenges lately. I am, apparently, incapable of balance when it comes to challenges.
I'm kind of terrified of this upcoming trip to Montana. I haven't talked about it on here, because talking about things makes me think I've already done them and then my brain gets content and my body shuts down.
But I'm going to be caretaking for a small farm/ranch this winter, in Clyde Park, Montana. Lots of horses, a couple goats, a sheep, a chicken, lots of dogs, a cat... lots of animals, most of them bigger than me.
It's not the kind of sustained activity that I've ever done before. I've worked at stables, mucking stalls and leading horses. I love horses. But they scare me, too. Which is one of the reasons I love them.
The winter weather makes any physical activity all the harder. It amplifies everything, makes it more difficult. Constant comfort, something I've gotten used to, will not be possible. Now, hardship makes comfort all the sweeter, and I love that part of it. But it's very different from how I've been living my life up till now.
When I was in Tucson, caretaking for the wealthy San Francisco natives in an adobe mansion with 2 goats, it was uncomfortable. Being outside in that kind of extreme heat was uncomfortable, especially at first. Walking up and down hills, learning to avoid cactus and snakes while keeping an eye on two contrary little bastard goats, taking a hyper chiuahua for a walk every morning before coffee up and down a steep ass driveway while keeping an eye out for coyotes...
None of that was comfortable. It was hard. But my body LOVED it. It loved the heat. I never wore sunblock after the first day. Which is horrible, and not something to brag about. But I also never burnt. My body and skin acclimated to the climate almost immediately, and I developed endurance extremely quickly. I went from being a couch potato to being a hill climber in a couple days.
I'm not absolutely certain the same thing is going to happen in Montana. I'm not certain I'll have the stamina and sheer physical ability to do the work I'm committing to. I believe I will. I'm looking into my body now, running tests and gauging reactions, and I feel my muscles plumping and heart readying itself.
But the uncertainty is causing nervousness. And the nervousness is causing sleeplessness. And the sleeplessness is causing less physical endurance. It's like the old lady who swallowed a fly, then proceeded to swallow a bunch of physically impossible things in an effort to get rid of a fly that wouldn't have killed her but now she's dead because SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHEN TO STOP. I hated that story. I just wanted to shake her and tell her a fucking fly really isn't that bad in the grand scheme of things.
Eh. I'm both elated and terrified. It's a good state to be in, kind of. I'd rather be content, but this whole thing is about shaking up my idea of contentment, so it's doing its job. Hurray.
Anyways, he waved when he saw me, and I went over to say hi. We chatted a bit about how things were for both of us, and he asked me how my travels had been going. I said great, and that I was going to be heading to Montana shortly.
He paused, and said "Montana, eh? In the winter... that sounds like fun."
I laughed, and paused and thought about it, and said "Yeah. Arizona in the summer and Montana in the winter. I like things easy."
Then we both laughed, and it was a lot funnier than it sounds now writing it out, though maybe the funny was only in my head. ANYWAYS. It got me thinking.
I've been picking some really fucking challenging challenges lately. I am, apparently, incapable of balance when it comes to challenges.
I'm kind of terrified of this upcoming trip to Montana. I haven't talked about it on here, because talking about things makes me think I've already done them and then my brain gets content and my body shuts down.
But I'm going to be caretaking for a small farm/ranch this winter, in Clyde Park, Montana. Lots of horses, a couple goats, a sheep, a chicken, lots of dogs, a cat... lots of animals, most of them bigger than me.
It's not the kind of sustained activity that I've ever done before. I've worked at stables, mucking stalls and leading horses. I love horses. But they scare me, too. Which is one of the reasons I love them.
The winter weather makes any physical activity all the harder. It amplifies everything, makes it more difficult. Constant comfort, something I've gotten used to, will not be possible. Now, hardship makes comfort all the sweeter, and I love that part of it. But it's very different from how I've been living my life up till now.
When I was in Tucson, caretaking for the wealthy San Francisco natives in an adobe mansion with 2 goats, it was uncomfortable. Being outside in that kind of extreme heat was uncomfortable, especially at first. Walking up and down hills, learning to avoid cactus and snakes while keeping an eye on two contrary little bastard goats, taking a hyper chiuahua for a walk every morning before coffee up and down a steep ass driveway while keeping an eye out for coyotes...
None of that was comfortable. It was hard. But my body LOVED it. It loved the heat. I never wore sunblock after the first day. Which is horrible, and not something to brag about. But I also never burnt. My body and skin acclimated to the climate almost immediately, and I developed endurance extremely quickly. I went from being a couch potato to being a hill climber in a couple days.
I'm not absolutely certain the same thing is going to happen in Montana. I'm not certain I'll have the stamina and sheer physical ability to do the work I'm committing to. I believe I will. I'm looking into my body now, running tests and gauging reactions, and I feel my muscles plumping and heart readying itself.
But the uncertainty is causing nervousness. And the nervousness is causing sleeplessness. And the sleeplessness is causing less physical endurance. It's like the old lady who swallowed a fly, then proceeded to swallow a bunch of physically impossible things in an effort to get rid of a fly that wouldn't have killed her but now she's dead because SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHEN TO STOP. I hated that story. I just wanted to shake her and tell her a fucking fly really isn't that bad in the grand scheme of things.
Eh. I'm both elated and terrified. It's a good state to be in, kind of. I'd rather be content, but this whole thing is about shaking up my idea of contentment, so it's doing its job. Hurray.
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