One of those Mondays

It's 5:30 a.m. and I can already tell what kind of day it's going to be. I've been up for half an hour mopping up a leaky fish tank... Sigh... problem is, I still can't figure where most of the water went. I hate that at normal hours of the day... but 5 a.m. the day after daylight savings switched is just cruel. I'm trying NOT to think about the fact that it's really 4:30 a.m. to my body and just focus on the fact that I'm definitely up in time to go to work... grumble grumble... oh, and I have some time to write on my blog.



And here's Jack, working on his seafood breakfast. As far as I know he hasn't caught anything, but then, I have had a fish literally disappear from the tank this time around.



I finished up a paper for my Women's Studies course last week; the last paper for Asian-American Novel... a challenging class for me this quarter. I enjoyed learning new things, but I'm happy to put that class behind me, honestly. I forgot how intense a novel based class is and I don't feel like I really got into any of the texts we studied... or sampled, I should say, because a novel a week with 2 discussion periods on each is hardly studying.

So in other news, I'm working on preparing for a horse show at WC in May, I think. I somehow feel that, even with a couple months to work on the effort I'm going to be completely unprepared. No fault of Debbie's... I just don't feel show quality. Perhaps that's not the point... the point is the experience, I suppose.

I can't figure how, though, when we don't even get any notes from a judge, so I won't know if she just didn't like my nose or if my riding sucks or if whatever issue she finds can be fixed... But the point is the experience.

On Saturday, Leslie and I worked on some suppleness exercises with our horses. Watson is so stiff in his shoulders and neck. I could feel him clenching almost the entire time we were doing the exercises. The last time through he felt a little different, a little more supple I think... but we have a lot to work on.

Also, my equitation sucks. It's just dreadful... hands wrong, leaning too far, elbows wrong... leg moves too much. I'm a mess! And I wonder why I can't seem to get out of my head when I ride. Ha! Well, I have a ride tonight and w/daylight savings, maybe I can be outside and enjoy it? But I still have a lot to work on.

It's kitten feeding time and the cats are crying. Apparently they believe they are starved and abused.



Sigh... Monday...

"Post about your riding"

Hmmm... there's a novel thought. Post about riding horses... something I do weekly at least twice... Perhaps I should post about my RIDING... :)

Truth is, riding has been hard for me the past few months. Last April, Debbie switched barns from the Woodland Stallion Station to Willow Creek Horse park. Since she's my riding instructor and I love her dearly, and since she is ridiculously generous with saddle time for me and knows everything, I went with her. Transitions are never easy, no matter how you look at it... and honestly, this one has been pretty rocky.

I like WC a lot. It's a fancy barn, well maintained, great LARGE (and by large I mean GIGANTIC) arenas, warm water in the wash rack. It's perhaps not as homey as WSS. And no where near as beautifully situated. WSS is a gem of a boarding facility with the vineyards and the eucalyptus grove and the pastures. I definitely miss the scenery. And I miss the worn feeling that everything had. No, it didn't always mean that I could open the gate to the indoor arena, or that I wouldn't find spiderwebs covering the tack room and in every crevice... but WSS is a place unto itself... and has its charm.

I think the hardest part about leaving WSS, though, was leaving Omega, the lovely old gentleman Morgan gelding. No, he's not the brightest star of a horse... he's a brilliant horse for a beginner, though, and that's when my relationship with him began. I was a beginner, fresh off of two quarters of weekly lessons at UC Davis, and he treated me well... well... better than Trevor the crafty ancient appaloosa did, anyhow (another story for another time).

When I moved over to WC, I began riding Watson, a relatively as old as Omega, good-natured, tall, Hanoverian gelding. He's a step up as far as talent goes... he can jump cross rails and so I started learning how to jump cross rails too. Stepping up in riding means that you have to get back to the basics sometimes... that you have to relearn some things that your last horse made easy for you... and that you have to learn new things that maybe you weren't expecting.

When I first began riding Watson in May, I cried every time I went to the barn. I felt like he was too big for me, like I couldn't control him at all, and like I had regressed in my skill level so much that there was no hope for me. (Did I mention that transition is never easy?)

Debbie is fantastic and... could be a shrink (maybe she was in another life?). She's coached, coaxed, and counseled me through the down days and given me back some of my confidence. You can't ask for a better instructor, or friend.

So what is wrong? I'm not sure yet... but I need to figure myself out. Because it's the worst feeling in the world having a mini panic attack before a lesson, not being able to sleep at night, bursting into tears in the middle of my ride. Maybe I'm afraid, but I don't know what of... because everyone thinks I'm weird when I say what I think it is... I'm not afraid of falling off... although maybe I am because I haven't done it yet... I don't know. I know I'm afraid when Watson gets going and I can't make him steer accurately, much less stop. I'm afraid that we'll crash through a fence or into the wall or into someone else. I'm afraid that he'll injure himself, and that it will be my fault... that I will be responsible... through ignorance or incompetence. I am afraid.

And the power of positive thinking hasn't helped me yet. Maybe some day it will... all I know is right now when I read all those motivational tips from Jane Savoie or George Morris or anyone else, I feel cheated... like it can't be that easy. And when they tell me it is, I feel worse, not better. And it's horrible, because... all I ever wanted to do since I was a little girl was to ride horses every day... to be with them and be at peace...

But even though I've lost my peace, I can't give up riding. Not until I get it back...

A naked dog and other happenings of the weekend

Tag had a slumber party this weekend. It went well, though perhaps not as fun as we had hoped it would be. Tag's sleep over buddy was Pixel, a Chinese Crested. Yup, folks... he's naked. And he was super watchful of Tag.


After a little sniffing and some "PLAY WITH ME!!!" barking, Tag lost interest and left him alone, but the kittens! The kittens tracked Pixel from the moment he entered the house. They worked as a team! Jack would tail the strange naked creature and Gill would lay in wait, leaping out when Pixel would least expect it and causing him to screech and race for cover. It was hilarious!


In other news, I rearranged a few things in the house today. Spring cleaning if you will. I got sick of the back room (dubbed office) being so gross and unusable. We keep the litter boxes back there and a baby gate up to limit the access to the room to animals that will NOT snack on cat poo... (no names, no names)...

So I moved the desk out... and the red chair... and the shelf of medicines and whatnots... basically it's an empty room except for a couple book shelves and some cat furniture. So happy with it now! Whew! Here are Bangs and the nameless kitty enjoying the new set-up and some early March sunshine.


I'll leave you with a couple pictures that may or may not prove that my animals secretly despise me. :)

My Fantasy Herd

I feel the need to preface this entry by saying "I like hair." ... that is all...




The obvious number one horse in my herd is a gypsy vanner, particularly a plucky gelding. I like the non-standard colors, as well. Most gypsies come in some sort of paint coloration... I like this gray (I'm a sucker for a dapple gray anyhow). What I like best about gypsies (apart from the hair) is their small draftiness... ah yes, the oxymoron of the breed is so appealing :)... that coupled with what is supposed to be a fantastic temperament makes this my number one choice.



Next in my herd would be a Clydesdale. Why? Because it's my fantasy, that's why. I love the massiveness of these animals, the solid figure, the strength. And the hair... the feathered feet for sure... I would NEVER bob the tail or braid the mane of my big bold boy (again, a gelding is my choice). What do I plan to do with this horse? Honestly, I foresee him being a hack around bareback, or liberty training project.



The same is true for this Noriker as it is for the Clydesdale. Gentle and strong with a quiet temperament. That's how I like them :)



I'd also like a fresian for dressage. I love the showy movement of this breed, and, of course, the hair. A la Jane Savoie I see myself growing in my horsemanship and learning more about dressage on this mount. I need some fancy mirrors in my fantasy riding arena (fantasy equestrian center... a topic for another blog), as well, so that I can admire how beautiful my horse is... and perhaps perfect my technique. I do learn best by imitation... I like to see an action to internalize it and imitate it.

Next are two more flashy breeds that I envision doing liberty work with (a la Frederic Pignon).



The beautiful Andalusian (I can still hear Anthony Hopkins' voice in my mind, remembering Zorro's mount, Tornado...)...



and the Lusitano... I like this buckskin, very flashy.

If you didn't think my herd was a little random to begin with, I'd like to add a twist and have a pasture full of (15 or 20) Camargue horses.



These horses are often called "horses of the sea." I find them fascinating! They were originally wild horses living in the Rhone wetlands in France. I have a vision of moving among them as they graze around me freely... sigh...

Finally (and this one will make Leslie happy) I want a black Arabian stallion like Cass Ole.



For those of you who don't know... Cass Ole was "The Black Stallion," and has imprinted on the young hearts and minds of many horse enthusiasts. I'd appreciate it if mine could have the same spunk and personality as Cass Ole, please. Is this too much to ask?

I realize, of course, that my horse choices are not very practical, but who wants to be practical in a fantasy? I refrained from adding anything with horns or wings... that's all I'll grant you!

There you have it... now, Lauren and Leslie, it's your turn! Also, I'm by no means closing the book on this herd. Subject to amendments and additions at any time!

Coming soon, My Fantasy Equestrian Center (or Horse property, more likely).

Pictures of the hairy beast

Not QUITE as much tonight as last night... but you get the idea

It's that time of year

What time of year, you ask? Why it's Spring! Or ... well, at least it's threatening to become spring. How can I tell? By taking into account the sheer volume of animal hair that has suddenly taken over my life.

I am an animal lover, a dog and cat owner, a horse rider... and each of these animals has decided that since the winter solstice has passed it must be time to shed copious amounts of hair and fur all over my clothes and my house. I brush Tag, the gorgeous blue merle collie, daily now. The hair that comes off each time we have a grooming session is enough to coat a new collie puppy! I could make doggy wigs for a hundred dogs by the time this season is over.

As I leave the house for work I look down at my clothes (to make sure I'm matching, that my zipper is up... etc.) and discover that I am covered in a noticeable layer of fuzz... especially from my knees down. Thinking back over the morning's activities, I recall cats rubbing my ankles asking for breakfast... and the world's cutest collie diving between my knees for his morning butt scratch.

It doesn't get any better at the horse barn. Watson was clipped this winter, so he's not shedding as much as some other horses yet. But he, too, has begun... and when it gets into full gear, I'll be covered there, too.

I'll post some pictures of a grooming session with Tag soon, for effect.

Stress produces diamonds

Sad when you start to ponder a line of logic with a hypothesis that is technically false. It's pressure that produces diamonds, not stress. You can feel stress from pressure, I suppose, but it's not the cause... it's a symptom. Stress is something I would like to get rid of, or to handle differently let's say.

Right now my life is full of ups and downs and a lot of waiting. Oh the waiting. I'm not a patient person, ask Noah. If there's a decision to be made or a present to be opened, I say let's cut to the chase and have done with it. That's not the hand life has dealt me this round... and I'm suffering for it. I like to know things, to have all the cards on the table so that I can adjust my expectations appropriately. Never mind what the outcome is, just so that I know it's coming. No more of this in the dark thing, please.

Someone chime in and tell me it's building my character. I have two words for you... but we'll leave that for later. I have plenty of character building in my life right now. I don't want any more. It's wreaking havoc on my body and my emotions. I'd like break please.

Wouldn't it be nice if it worked that way?

If stress = pressure then I'm sure going to be one heck of a diamond one day.

Jack and Gill

I should introduce the newest 4 legged members of my family. Captain Jack and GillyFlower came to live with us in late July. They have been growing and enriching our lives ever since!

Jack is a master of disaster, a mischievous little impling like you have never imagined (unless your name is Emi, and then you have Benjamin, who takes the cake). He's always into something. If it's not shredding bagels and hunting out food stashes (we can't keep the treats in anything that is not air sealed anymore), it's stealing refrigerator magnets and my jewelry (we found his stash under the Christmas tree).

Gill (pronounced "Jill") is the reason people keep cats. She is demonstrative and affectionate, will sit on your shoulder and give your head a bath or come up and stand with her front paws on your leg looking up at you with the most adorable little face.
Best thing about these little bundles of fluff is that they get along swimmingly with the most amazing pup on the planet. In the photo below you can see Jack comforting Tag, who had to wear a cone because of an eye infection.

This brings our head-count to 4 cats, 1 dog, and some fish... but I wouldn't trade it.

Stay tuned for more adventures of Jack and Gill!

Possessing the Secret of Joy

I read Possessing the Secret of Joy, by Alice Walker, this weekend. I couldn't put it down. I was supposed to be writing a comparison paper on Italian poetry from the Renaissance. Instead I was reading a fictional account of a woman's struggle to cope with the emotional impact of female genital mutilation (FGM) or as some cultures call it "female circumcision." (FYI: I find the latter description to be too clinical to describe the ritualistic process of desexing female children)

I was mesmerized, haunted, and completely drawn into the pain of the main character. Yes, the practice is foreign to a Western white woman, and for that matter horrifying... but what amazed me was Walker's artistic weaving in of social and psychological issues to the act of FGM that come back to issues present in society today that plague even one such as myself.

FGM has taken up residence in my consciousness most recently because of my Women's Studies class I'm taking at UC Davis. I have found myself compelled to know more, to understand more, and to advocate for women where possible. What I did not expect (but I should have) was to come up against my own darkness in the process.

The next few months and the paper I hope to write about this journey should be ... interesting to say the least... enlightening, I hope... one step at a time.

Dark Fairy

This idea started from a pair of shoes... I just love my new Danskos... and have been wearing them everywhere. Then I thought what fun it would be to wear them with my purple striped socks that go up to my knees... and what better way to show of the socks than with a short black skirt... and then I thought, wow, I've been wanting to dye my hair black for a while too! The crowning touch was when Noah came up with the wings, though... it's a gauzy butterfly I've had in a box for years now... fantastic! I want to wear this every day!

Personal statement

I wrote the following as a personal narrative for my application to the Gender and Global Issues post-baccalaureate program at UC Davis. There's no competition... I'm automatically accepted... but it was an interesting exercise nonetheless.

I grew up in the Deep South, the daughter of a minister. I was taught the value of self-reliance, and that all people deserve respect and basic rights. I grew up under the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I firmly believed during those young years of my life that if I kept my head down and acted with integrity, others would treat me the same way. That philosophy seemed like the answer to the world’s troubles. If others would follow the same rule, then their lives would begin to change for the better. If I had never left my home town, I would probably still fit neatly into the mould that my upbringing created. I am sure that I push the minister’s boundaries now with my views of who deserves which rights.

Coming from these very conservative beginnings, it might seem that I am treading water in unfriendly seas. I believe I felt that way at first. However, the more I come to know people, the more their voices break into my sphere of understanding, the more I feel that we’re all bound together with an obligation to hold one another up.

In college, I met a young woman from Kenya who opened my eyes to the conflict in Sudan and the atrocities there. I saw what I had been sheltered from or oblivious to in my youth, the indiscriminate persecution of innocents. The more I became aware, the more I saw people pressed down, rights stripped, lives taken. At first I tried to reconcile this reality with the theories I had been taught growing up. Why couldn’t they just do the right thing and begin to see their lives turn right? I began to see that kind of black and white, cause and effect mentality was impossible. I realized that there are many people in the world who need someone to speak for and empower them, to give them hope and strength. I wanted to do something to make a difference.

Another theme that emerged in my life during college was feminism. Of course, this was not in its purest form, but I have always had a firm belief in self-reliance and the strength and power of women and this made an impression on people. I spent time encouraging the freshmen women on my floor during my senior year to pursue their passions and seek their self-worth in other places than the traditional gender roles lend themselves.

My life since college has been a slow emergence from the cocoon of sheltered self-centeredness. One step at a time, usually through the means I have available at the time, I have been coming out into the world with a desire to affect those around me. If at all possible, every day I reach out a hand to encourage or lift up the person next to me, no matter their gender or sexual orientation.

Last year, as a part of my job here at UC Davis, I was asked to write an article on women and wine for the university alumni magazine. I welcomed the opportunity to learn about the amazing women who are shining in this male-dominated field. As a result of that assignment, I realized that I have always had a passion for empowering women and a desire to celebrate our achievements. My goal in pursuing this certificate is to gain a solid base of theory to go with the rumblings and beliefs that stir in my spirit. I would like to write more about the power and presence of women in the world, and I feel that having a solid background in theory will help me gain perspective and credibility should my words come into question. I am hopeful that this certificate could offer me the beginning of that solid background.

A quick post

Just stretching my typing fingers a moment before the day ends... I've been idle for so long, distracted by things that fill time but are not of value, I think.

A friend's blog offered me a moment to tap into my creative side again... naming chickens... my suggestions: Hester, Hepzibah, and Elphie. I like the name Hester. It's old in a trusty way.

The calendar has flipped over again and my mother is coming this weekend. I'm seeking center... peace... and somehow magic, too.

I hope your midweek day is going well.

What's in a day?

Ah, Thursday... such an overlooked day. I'm willing to bet that everyone who reads this post will agree, Thursday is a day to get through, barrel through, actually, on our way to Friday. I know that's my view. Most of the time.
Thursday was named for the god Jupiter, god of sky and thunder to the Romans. The old nursery rhyme says "Thursday's child has far to go."

That got me thinking. What day of the week was I born on? Was it one of those days that you're rushing through? A day no one cares to remember? I found this great website that will show you a calendar for any year from the years 1000 to 2100.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

I was born on a Sunday. Naturally.

Something lovely

I thought I'd share this bit of lovely art with those who read my blog... so beautiful and magical... by Sulamith Wulfing, an artist whose work JK introduced me to. Hope you like her as much as I do.

Have I mentioned that I HEART my dog?

I mean, look at that face? What isn't there to love?

The latest cuteness on this adorable pup has to do with his efforts to win over my cats. Truth be told, Bangs and the nameless kitty hate the dog. I mean they HATE him. I often feel a little sorry for Tag. He is a gentle sort of pup. But occasionally he deserves their ire and derision. After this past weekend, though, he'll have to do something pretty heinous, like try to maul them, for me to think he deserves it.

We have a long hallway in our house. At the end, it turns a corner to the bathroom and the "cats' room," also known as our study. There's a baby gate up in front of the study so that the cats can retreat there and so that Tag can't go digging for buried treasure in the litter box. (Yuck!)

Sunday evening, the typical scene unfolds before my eyes. Bangs comes down off the cat condo in the living room and makes a sprint down the hall for the baby gate, puppy close behind. Instead of hearing the usual noise of a cat flinging itself over the gate, though, I hear... nothing.

Noah and I get up to investigate. What we find at the end of the hall amuses us. Bangs is crouched in the bathroom next to the toilet and growling. Tag is lying down outside the bathroom, nose on the ground and stretched out towards the kitty, sniffing.

Noah favors breaking up the incident, but I want to let it play out a little. I step over the puppy and into the bathroom to sit down next to Bangs. Noah stands in the hall next to Tag. Fifteen minutes or so go past in which Tag scoots close enough to sniff Bangs and gets growled and hissed back repeatedly.

Then something happens that neither Noah nor I could have expected. Tag gets up and walks away. Bored? We hear him go into his crate in the bedroom, presumably for a toy. When he comes back, I can't tell what he has brought with him. He walks straight up to Bangs and presents him with... a doggy biscuit! He is SO proud of this biscuit. He picks it up again, walks into the hall, puts it back down and barks at it, a playful puppy bark.

Noah and I are amazed. I take the biscuit and break it so that Tag can have some and Bangs can have some. Bangs sniffs interestedly for a moment but the biscuit's been in a dog's mouth so he's not about to actually consume it. Tag happily munches his part of the biscuit and then finishes Bang's untouched bit while Bangs looks on grouchily.

I can't stand it! It's so cute how much effort he made to make friends in that moment. Of course, half an hour later, he chased the cat back down the hall and over the gate again, Bangs's tail fluffed in terror... but he's trying. And I'm hopeful that he will succeed.

Puppy Love

This is the newest addition to the Kauffman family. Tag (Montague L Kauffman or MLK) is a joy, a bouncing baby collie full of energy and love and expressiveness. We have been greatly enjoying the time we spend with him.

We've also been greatly challenged. Patience and a fine tuning of communication skills and expectations are easy to wear thin when you get home from a long day of work, or when you are the only one who has been home to clean up after the puppy. Learning how he works and what he thinks and how to teach him the ways of life in a house as a well-behaved pup has stretched Noah and me more than I expected. I'm expectant that we will come out better people on the other end of this puppy stage of life.

Keep your eye out for Tag in the future. I have high hopes for this brilliant little fluff ball. Some good training and attention should make him into quite the performer! I'll keep you posted on his growth and progress.

This photo was taken on his homecoming day, February 7th, 2009. Tag was 9 weeks old.

Memory Lane

Some people are probably deliberate about their posts. Most likely they plan out exactly what they are going to say, well crafted, articulate. I blog like I live my life... by the seat of my pants, straight from the hip, into the wind... I can't do it any other way. I apologize if you find me hard to follow.

For some time now... I'd say a good 4 months or so... I've been catching up with old acquaintances on Facebook. I'm utterly amazed at how many random people from my past keep cropping up in unexpected places. It's the miracle of the age of social media, I guess. (I could digress here, but I'm going to try to stay on topic.) I've been on Facebook a while now, and, as typical with any technology, now that the star is fast burning out finally the "main stream" is beginning to catch on to the trend. More and more people keep cropping up.

There are those I am so overjoyed to reconnect with, and those that I choose to ignore, and those that choose to ignore me. Whatever, be well and happy... we're all on to the next stage of life anyways.

And yet, I find that the more people I hear of, see through other friends' photographs, catch snippets of reminisces from... the more depressed I become. Out of the fog of my past comes this memory that... I HATED high school... I was MISERABLE, lonely, depressed, and had no self-esteem. I mean, I had friends... but I'm remembering how utterly uncool I was, how much of a fringe kid, how awkward and unaccepted. Even my best friends had better friends than me.

I'm not sure what kept me from really engaging in life during that time, but I think I spent most of my childhood in an imaginary world. I don't really have many memories, souvenirs of my past to look back on. What is so terrible about that now is that I'm reminded of it through my total absence in most of the pictures that my childhood friends are posting. Granted, there are still a few out there... pretty sure I'm not a vampire, I show up in photographs and can see myself in mirrors.

I find myself sad, wishing that I was a bigger part of someone's happy memories of their youth. And yet... I don't think I'm even a part of my own memories. My heart aches for the lost years of my life.

The thing is, so much has happened in my life since then. I moved across country. I came out of my shell and connected with myself and with others. I found a wonderful man who loves me for all the stupidness and awkwardness that is me. I'm by no means a person who loves myself and accepts all people no questions asked... but I'm closer than I was before.

So I'm disconcerted by the way that seeing everyone else remembering how fun high school was and what dorks we all were then makes me want to curl up in a ball and never speak to anyone again. We're all SO ON to the next phase in our lives. What is it that I'm not letting go of?

Published!

I wanted to share an article I wrote for the CA&ES Outlook Magazine (College of Agricultural & Environmental Sciences alumni publication)

An earthy undertone
Viticulture and enology graduate helps a family winery go green

For Sarah Cahn Bennett, making good wine is a way of life.

Bennett grew up on her parents’ Navarro Vineyards winery in Anderson Valley, in Mendocino County, California. Her parents started the sustainable vineyard in the 1970s with the perfect Gewürztraminer, Pinot Noir, and Chardonnay their main objectives. As their business grew, so did their selection of fine wines. Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Muscat Blanc joined the lineup, and children Sarah and Aaron became part of the Navarro team. After achieving a bachelor’s degree in business administration from St. Mary’s College, Bennett set her sights on a master’s degree in viticulture and enology at UC Davis.

“Sarah knew exactly where she was going to go, exactly what she was going to do,” said viticulture and enology professor Doug Adams.

Adams’ research into the development of tannins in the skins and seeds of red wine varieties was a good fit for her interests. Bennett and her fellow students collected wines from California, Oregon, and Washington and compared the phenolics of the wine, including tannin which is found in grapes and wine. Bennett then began to look at how that research could be incorporated into winemaking methods.

Bennett now applies this knowledge to Navarro’s selection of Pinot Noirs. Her research helps the winemaking process, and adds a scientific scale to taste and perception.

“We measure many of these wines so that we have real number comparisons between areas,” Bennett says. Other Anderson valley vineyards use the results of Bennett’s assay to articulate what makes wine from their region unique.

Part of what Bennett believes makes Navarro Vineyards special is its commitment to sustainability. Along with avoiding the use of herbicides and pesticides on their land, Bennett has introduced a flock of Babydoll sheep to the vineyard. These miniature sheep have been extremely effective in controlling unwanted plant growth beneath the vines. The sheep, too short to do any damage to the fruit or vines, clean out sucker shoots and weeds that would otherwise be very difficult to reach.

Bennett and her family believe that sustainability stretches further than the field. Navarro Vineyards is committed to employment practices that establish loyalty and a sense of ownership for their workers. All Navarro Vineyards employees are full-time members of the company with full benefits.
Bennett recognizes the advantages that her time at UC Davis gave her. “I feel like I now know a good portion of the people in the industry,” she says. “I always knew I wanted to be in the wine industry. UC Davis was the perfect opportunity to help make that happen.”
- Elisabeth Kauffman

If wishes were horses...

So I haven't written here as much as I would like. Maybe I should turn it into a resolution to write more... but that would ensure that I never did again! Ah well... I'll have to be happy with myself one day.

Something happened this week that has been a long time coming, and something I never thought would actually come true in my life. If you know anything about me, you know I ride horses once a week. I have been riding for the past year. It has been a life-long dream of mine to work with/ride/enjoy horses on a regular basis. Once a week has been great... and I'm doing it even though we really shouldn't afford it... because I need to realize this dream... more than I need to save money.

Anyhow, my riding instructor has been telling me since the beginning that I should ride more than once a week if I want to improve my confidence and skill. Not an option for me, because to ride costs money and we're already outside the budget to do this as much as I do it. I finished explaining that to her for the 1 millionth time last week, and she said she'd get back to me... that money shouldn't be the issue.

When she got back to me, my riding instructor had found a way for me to ride 3 days a week a wonderful Morgan horse named Omega... in exchange for labor. Basically, I'll grain and water 6 horses every day I'm there to ride, and help with other projects or blanketing horses when necessary... an amazing opportunity! So I'm going to ride more... and (*torture of all tortures* said with dripping sarcasm) I'll have to take care of some other horses basic needs 3 days a week.

When I think about how I have always wanted just this kind of opportunity since I was 5 years old... and how it is here now... I can't believe how lucky, how truly blessed I am. How amazing to live a life where wishes really are horses and beggars really can ride...

Heart on my sleeve

I can't help it sometimes... my emotions are a banner for everyone to read. In order to escape the inevitable interrogation, I have to run and hide.

I received a weighty compliment today in an area where I feel insecure at best... and had to leave the office so that I could shed my tears without embarrassment.

It's so gratifying when you put your heart into something to have it received so well... A little more work and it will be ready to share.