It’s the tongue that slays me.

NOTHING ELSE CAN COMPETE WITH THIS FOR MADE ME LAUGH MONDAY.

Nothing.

I mean, it could be the most awesome thing I’d ever seen in my life and it still wouldn’t compare. I know I’ve posted a lot of photos of Aspen (and can you blame me? She’s adorable) but once you see this one, you’ll know why it had to be the Monday episode.

I was sitting at home on my couch the other day and I get a text from Ash saying, “Midge could totally be an old lady for Halloween”.

The pic that followed?

I’m a little frightened.

I ANNOUNCED A FEW FRIDAY’S AGO THAT I’D BE GONE ALL WEEKEND. Unplugged. No Internet, cell phone service or cable TV for me, as I was going camping with Ashley and her crew. Being the independent person I am, I just had to drive my own car. Ya know, to listen to my own music and such.

My reasoning makes no sense.

I guess you could say my car is my security blanket that I take everywhere. It’s now so full of stuff that it doesn’t make sense not to take it somewhere. I practically live in the thing – what with all the clothes, high heels, gum wrappers and water bottles that can be found within it’s doors.

So I packed up after work, threw everything in plastic bags (yes Ash, since you asked I do own a proper bag. I just chose not to use it) and followed them up through the beautiful canyons. The air was crisp, I could literally taste fall in the air and I was loving the scenic overview created by the rise and fall of the mountains. I was a tad worried, it was my first time driving those particular canyons, but I drive in rush hour traffic every day. It can’t be worse than that.

We stopped to eat at our favorite spot (thanks again for dinner Ash and Niel). The plate of food that arrived in front of me was about three times more than I could eat, and I gladly dived in. By the time we were ready to head up our last canyon, it was dark. My only concern was deer, which thankfully we didn’t see any that night.

I was a tad bit concerned about the road. Yes, I’ll admit it. The road that leads directly up to their cabin gives me the willies, but I was determined that my car go with me. Besides, it hadn’t rained so the road was dry, I’d be fine.

We finally hit the point where we traded paved road for gravel and dirt, and my hands started to sweat. I have a fear of hills like you would not believe. I have nightmares of being stuck on hills that I can’t climb down. You laugh now, but just wait till you ride in my car with me when I’m bawling because I don’t want to drive up that hill, no way, you can’t make me. My fear is so big, that a few winters back when Ashley took me to Yellowstone to go snowmobiling, we went down a large hill with me driving, and all I could think about the remainder of the trip was “Dear god, I’m going to have to go back up that hill again.” I bawled, begged and pleaded with Ashley for her to drive, I’ll just walk up the hill, and if that’s not possible, if it’s too steep I’ll just stay down here but PLEASE do not make me go back up.

We went back up, and apparently I lived. But I guess my fear stems from an experience even before that; the time I was on a hill on a four wheeler with my other sisters ex-husband and we rolled. That could definitely be the moment I declared such a vile hatred for anything above a 0% grade.

So there I am, following Ash and Niel up this mountain and I’m thinking “I can do this, I can do this, I WILL do this, I have to do this, I don’t want to do this, I’m doing this, ” ad nauseum the entire way. Ash told me to “gun it” if I felt that I was loosing traction, and the first bend around a corner didn’t disappoint. I jumped the clutch, gunned it and swerved like I was a pro driver in the Dukes of Hazard movie. I was successful.

We hit the next bend and my heart had started to calm down. From memory, I thought I was past the worst part, the worst corner. Turns out I was wrong, because the very next corner was pure powder, a solid three inches of soft dirt and my car couldn’t get a hold. There I am, my hands sweating on the steering wheel, my heart in my chest, literally leaning forward as if that would help, and praying out loud “Oh dear God Jesus almighty don’t let me fall off the face of this mountain. I’m sorry for my sins. Oh jeez, don’t let me die,” and at this point Ollie decides that he’s scared and he jumps on my lap, and my car is slipping back, back back back towards the dark unknown and I’m praying like I’m at the gates of hell begging for redemption.

My hands are sweaty just thinking about this.

Finally, my wheels grabbed and locked, and Bessy the Car began the agonizing assent into the pines. She climbed slowly, like an old woman struggling to get up a set of stairs, and the only thing I could think to do was keep my gas petal pressed to the floor and my upper body leaning forward.

Why do we do that? Why do we lean on roller coaster rides, and going up hills, and going down hills? It doesn’t help the vehicle in any way. I don’t understand it.

Ashley and Niel disappeared around a bend up ahead and all I could see was  dust drifting down in my headlights. I had to admit, it was kind of pretty. We made it to the top and I spat words like a sailor, but you know what? It was worth it. It was worth going camping to eat with those I love, to camp with friends and sing Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA” song over and over with Megan. (Did I just admit that? Yea. I did.) It was worth actually being able to see stars, and remember that the world is bigger than what it seems.

It was worth it to wake up and hear Aspen say, “Hi Aubrey!” and see her literally glowing in her glow-in-the-dark skeleton pajamas.

It was worth it to push her in the swing and watch her little face scruntch up with glee.

It was worth it to have a spur of the moment rides on the fourwheeler with Ash.

And it was worth it to see Sir Ollie become King of the Mountain.

So would I go again? Definitely. Just next time Ash? I’ll let you do the driving.

THIS LITTLE JUMPING BEAN TURNS TWO TODAY.

That means she’ll have a whole new set of big girl clothes, a whole new set of words, and a whole new set of adorableness.

It also means she’s one more year away from the baby days, which makes me sad. I remember when she was so little that we’d have to give her gas drops to make her happy. Not that she needed them, it was just the only thing that tasted good to her and would calm her down if she was fussy.

I remember babysitting her and texting Ash photos of every face she made just so she wouldn’t miss it. I remember when Ashley told me her first sentence, “I wanna cookie!”.

I kind of miss that stage, but I won’t lie. This stage?

It pretty much rocks too. Happy birthday to the cuttest little munchkin ever!

MY FAMILY SPENT ALL SATURDAY IN THE ER. Obviously, it wasn’t supposed to go that way.

When I talked to Sam on the phone that morning, she was sad over the loss of her puppy. On Friday night, her horse had kicked her eight week old blue heeler pup, causing brain injuries and a broken leg. The dog had to be put down. So, in an effort to cheer her up I offered to come visit her.

“Hey! You’re little sister’s wearing boots and riding jeans. . .wanna go for a ride?” I teased.

“Well, we could! You wanna ride JJ?” She sounded like she was perking up. I was on cloud nine. It has been two entire years since I have ridden, or even seen JJ, and I wasn’t about to pass this up. They loaded their horses and drove up my way to go for a casual trail ride. We drove for a while (almost forgetting to pick up JJ), pulled up next to a lush green pasture and there he was. My JJ. My best friend, my favorite horse.

It was nice to be able to kiss this face again.

We loaded him up without incident, and headed up the mountains.

The leaves were just starting to change and the air had a nice, autumn crisp feel.

I took photos of everything, but mainly on JJ. I wanted photos of him pretty badly.

Looking back, I remember being angry when I found out that he’d been caught up in barbed wire and never really taken care of.

That seems so inconsequential now.

“Sam! Take a picture of me up here,” I said, tossing her my camera. We were just getting saddled up and ready to head up our old familiar trail.

Sam gave the camera back to me and jumped onto her horse. We headed towards the trail head, excited to get going. There is a road that leads up to the trail but the gate is always closed so no ATV’s or cars can go up there. But for those on horseback, there is a little short side trail that winds through trees, goes around the gate and opens on the other side. Everything was perfect at this point. Sam and her horse Bo headed up the short trail first, JJ and I on her heels.

It was that moment, with my eyes on sam’s back and my hand on JJ’s reins that I watched everything turn horribly wrong. With the cover of the thick trees, horses aren’t able to see the gate and a few big rocks until they are right up next to them. Horses are creatures of memory. If something seems off, if something isn’t familiar, it’s only instinct to panic. After all, it’s what keeps them safe in the wild. A good horse, a “broke” horse shouldn’t get spooked very often, if ever.

Bo spooked. Not just a little, no. This half Thoroughbred/half Quarter Horse gelding paniced, snorting loudly and jumping into the air. His body twisted, his hind legs kicking out and his front legs reaching forward. He sun-fished like a bull, trying to buck and kick at the rocks at the same time.

Time stopped in a sick form of slow motion as I watched as my sisters body fly up into the air as Bo bucked and thrashed. I watched as Sam landed with a hard thud against the leather, her body dangling off to the side of the horse. Her left foot became a part of every cowboy or girls worst nightmare – she was hung up in the stirrup.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Bo took off at an all out run up the trail, and he was headed towards the hill face with my sister still attached. She let out a dejected scream and my heart broke. I have never felt so helpless in my life, to watch her hands flailing, her head bobbing dangerously close to pounding hooves, heading towards a cliff. I was torn. I wanted so badly to run JJ, grab her horses reins and pull him to a stop, but I couldn’t. That would have put her right between two horses running full out, and if she were to fall then I didn’t want either horse to step on her. But I needed to do something. I spurred JJ into a lope, reacting without thinking. My eyes never left her, bobbing there helplessly.

Her left foot was caught in the stirrup but there was one thing that I’d like to think was her saving grace. She’d recently purchased a new barrel saddle, which are typically made with higher-backed seats. When he bucked and she bounced up, her right leg came completely out of the stirrup but the heel of her boot caught on the lip of the saddle. Without this, I honestly believe she would have been completely caught and dragged for who knows how long. But this leg, this frustratingly stuck right leg is what saved my sisters life. It was keeping her left leg somewhat straight, and she was able to shake her left foot loose from the stirrup.

My mind will never let go of the image of how she fell. Her head hit first, crunching in the gravel at a sickening angle, while her neck kinked in the most impossible way, directly the opposite way of her head, and the weight of her body finally flipped her over and slammed her to the ground.

I don’t remember stopping JJ or jumping off. I scrambled to make it over to Sam, but she jumped up before I could reach her. My brother in law had finally come up behind me and dashed for her, screaming for her to stay down. His horse had stayed behind, never wanting to come out of the trees so the only thing he viewed was her laying on the ground and her horse running away. She was dazed, confused and shaking, so she crawled to the side of the mountain to get away from the horses. I could see a mixture of blood and dirt scratched into her face.

My eyes left them to find Bo. The last thing I wanted was for him to come anywhere near us, or especially near her right then. He had made it a ways up the trail before he turned around. I assume he didn’t stop running until she was off, but now he was facing me, looking me in the eye. I grabbed him and started leading him down the mountain until Mark took him from me. If ever man was mad at beast, this was the moment. My new challenge was to calm Mark down and have him take the horses back down before he scared Sam even more. Thankfully we’d only made it about fifty yards from the trail when the accident happened. JJ and I stayed by Sam for a moment while he took Bo away.

“Oh my god, my face is bleeding! Am I okay?!” Sam tried to look at me through the blood dripping down her eye. From the surface I could see that she was indeed pretty scuffed up, but the injury I was worried about the most was her neck. After a hit like that. . .how was she still sitting? How was she not paralized or worse, killed? I tried to channel my thoughts into the now. I NEEDED to stay calm to help sam. That was my mantra for the next few hours.

“You have a few scratches Sam, and there’s some dirt but I don’t see anything too bad, just don’t touch it” I rubbed the only part of her I couldn’t see hurt, her upper arm. Her hands, knee and forearms were scratched but by far the worst was her face. She assured me she’d stay sitting while I run my horse back down to the trailer.

I was thinking earlier when we picked up JJ and I had to run to the truck for the gate key, how fun it is to run. Running back to Sam was in stark contrast to that feeling. I wasn’t running for my life, I was running for someone elses. This was more important than anything in the entire world. Mark entrusted her to me as he unsaddled the horses and hastily threw them in the trailer. I could hear him cursing Bo from a ways away. Gently and slowly I wrapped my arm around Sam and guided her back to the truck.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m sorry we didn’t get to go for a ride. I’m sorry you couldn’t ride JJ”. She was so silly when she was dazed. Sorry was the last thing either me or Mark wanted to hear. I was apologizing to her, and so was he.

“I should have rode JJ through first. It should have been me, he would never have freaked out like that,” I mumbled.

“I should have rode Bo first. I should have worked him. I should have listened,” Mark chastised himself in the drivers seat as we fought BYU football game traffic to get to the ER.

“I’m fine guys, I don’t need the ER and I’m a mess. Look at me!” She worried over and over. I had to keep telling her that not everyone who walks in the ER looks that good anyway. I didn’t care how she looked. She was my sister, my best friend, and she was alive and consious. She could have sprouted three pairs of eyes at that moment and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. “Oh my god!” She paniced and bawled. “My head, I just felt it and it’s mooshy. I think it’s bleeding!”

We told her it was just the bruising, not bleeding. I was scared, she was starting to go into shock and the traffic couldn’t have been worse. We finally made it to the ER and they took her vitals, gave her a neck brace and told us their rooms were full so we’d have to wait in the lobby. What we hoped would be a quick checkout ended up being an excruciating wait with other patients hoping for the same treatment. One was a baby, only a few months old that had had a seizure at a restaurant. Another was a man with a fever so bad he lied on the floor shaking. There were sick people everywhere around us. It really gives you some perspective on the word “emergencies” when you can watch a loved one get hurt so badly, and the doctors can only help people in the order of who is hurt the worst.

By the end of four hours, our family had been contacted, our parents were there with us and they had finally given her a room and a thorough checkout. The cat scans came back negative and the only injury so far is a really bad goose egg and a black eye.

And like they say, it could always be worse. My sister has a black eye, but you see these sunglasses?

She was wearing them when it happened, and although she was a bit pissed since they were her new pair and they got ruined, they actually wound up protecting her eyes. When my parents came in and told her that her face looked bad, the first thing she said was,

“You shoulda seen the other guy”.

That’s my girl Sam. I’m SO glad you’re okay.

Hug the ones you love today, you never know when something might happen.

I HAD DUTIES THEN, in that summer two years back when I was jobless and living with my sister. I had duties to feed and water and care for all the horses at our little arena. I had things to strive for as well. On my very first ride out on JJ, Mark’s brother’s horse, I was nervous and doubting myself. Mark picked up on it, and told me that one day I’d be a good enough rider that I could lope around bareback without the need to hold on.

“Are you mocking me?” I clutched the saddle horn tighter in my hand. I knew I wasn’t an optimal rider, but I’d do anything just to stay up on this horse. But lope? With no saddle? And worse, no hands?

“That’s impossible, that’s unrealistic,” I huffed.

“Anything is possible Aub.  Some day you’ll see what I mean”.

We finished our ride and by the end of the night I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but he didn’t have a saddle on and I wasn’t quite sure how to just “jump on” such a tall creature. Before I could even think of a way, Mark grabbed my leg and threw me up onto JJ’s broad, sweat soaked back. This was completely different than riding with a saddle. I had to find a way to stay seated, but every movement of his legs made me wobble as Mark guided us to the pasture. There was no way I could do this and lope. There was no way I could even do this for five minutes. My legs were on fire and my calf muscles were clamping up from the effort.

For months I tried to focus on that being my goal. I rode every night with them, learned how to turn the barrels, stop the horse, back up, and put on a bridle. I learned to lope and hold my seat in a saddle, learned to trot and hold my body while bareback. I trained myself to be in sync with the horse, to move when he moved, stop my body when he stopped. It was a learning process.

JJ was a patient, kind horse. He taught me how to ride, never scaring me or pushing me, but always giving me just the amount of challenge I needed. He let me make mistakes, but also showed me easier ways to do things. They say a smart horse can tell the experience level of their rider and change to suit their needs, and I believe it.

We finally accomplished loping, loping!, without a saddle. I was estatic and addicted. I galloped him around until he was out of strength and I was out of breath. I took to loping him every morning before feedings. It was our time to spend together, and bless his soul he never minded putting off a meal for a ride. I began to not use a bridle at all, and started using halters and lead ropes to steer.

One quiet, bright morning I climbed the fence and jumped onto JJ’s back. It was the usual ride but something felt different. I was ready to challenge myself. We started at a trot and worked our way up to a slow, rocking-horse lope, my legs clenched around his withers and my hands entangled in his mane. Ever so slowly, I raised my hands up until they were above his neck and I let them stay there, suspended in the air as we continued to move. I realized I had hit that moment – the one Mark promised me. The moment where I was loping and riding with no hands, no saddle, no barriers between horse and rider, but I still was holding the reins.

In a rush of confidence, I let go of my hold on the lead.

I let go.

Of worries, stress, problems, issues, concerns. I didn’t think about falling, I didn’t think about “what if he stops and I fly off?” My only thought was,

{this feels great}.

JJ, tuned into me as much as I was tuned into him, sped up into a fast, almost running lope. I flung my arms out wide, closed my eyes and just LIVED. I trusted him. Every hoof beat, every heart beat, every breath was created by two but felt as one.

These grainy images from my cell phone are the only photos I have of him.

The photos and stories I have in my memory? Well, they’re much, much better.

I’LL NEVER FORGET THE DAY that my sister Sam and her friend Kristy called up KFC on a lazy summer afternoon.

“Hey! Is this KFC?”

“Yes, how can we help you?”

“Yea, we’d like to uh. . .”

*giggle giggle*

“know how. . .”

*snicker*

“We’dliketoknowhowbigyourbreastsare”.

They were dying from laughter but the worker had them beat. “Pretty big,” he cooly responded. “How big are yours?”

They were off the phone faster than you could blink an eye. This is one of those memories that I can’t erase. Something about it makes me laugh. Although, it’s not something that I’d ever try. Noo way Jose. I’m too chicken. There was one other call they made afterwards, to Fat Cats bowling, something about the weight of the equipment. But since this is a family friendly blog we won’t go there.

No. Let’s talk about a simpler joke, one that everyone has at least heard. And it goes something like this.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Hey I just wondered something. Is your refrigerator running?”

“. . .Yes?”

“Well then you better catch it!”

Someone please invest in these magnets for me. Thank you.

ONE OF THE FIRST REQUIREMENTS of my college English class was to introduce ourselves. But, instead of saying something like “Hi, I’m Aubrey and I like pets and cheesecake”, we had to say something interesting about our name.

Piece of cake to me, since I’d previously looked up the origins of my name. But there is more to it than just a song, that is only how my parents chose my name, not how the name came to be in the first place. I was proud to announce to the class at large, “My name is Aubrey, and my name means Elf Ruler”.

“Your name means what?” was the chorus of 30 voices back at me.

“Elf. Ruler. You know, like Elf Queen?”

You shoulda seen the looks that got me.

I HAVE MY OWN SPOT that I’ve proclaimed to be mine during the lunch hour. It is only about a half block away from my work, under the shade of a huge row of trees that border a horse pasture. I like it there. It’s busy enough to keep me interested if I’m bored, and quiet enough to give me peace if I want to spend the hour reading, or as I frequently tend to do – sleeping.

But lately, my favorite of all favorites of retreats has been imposed upon by – for lack of a better word – weirdos.

And I don’t mean that to be rude. I sincerely believe that the people who truly know these people may not find them weird at all. However, I only witnessed their odd behaviours so I don’t have anything else to base my assumptions on. For all I know they’re managers of their workplace, they go home to help their wives cook and clean while also helping the kids with homework and sports. But to me? To me they are weirdos.

The first odd occurrence was two weeks ago. I was sitting in my car with the AC on and the windows up. It was hot, too hot to turn the car off but not hot enough to force me back to the chilly temperature of my office. I was bored, flipping radio channels while stuffing my face with food. I’m sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. I glanced into the mirror to check for any messes and I notice two guys heading in the direction of the office buildings. One was slowly pedaling a bike, but nothing was odd with that.  Still not wanting any distractions or to draw attention to myself, I picked up a book and pretended to read.

A loud knock on the glass shattered my hopes of being left alone.

“Are you okay!?” Biker Dude asked me. I found this question odd. “Are you okay?” typically refers to someone being in distress, calling for help, sending out an SOS. Clearly, sitting in the cool safety of my car, reading, while fully alert did not constitute as that kind of a situation.

“Uh. Yea?” Of course my brain is saying fifty other things and the only retort I can come up with is “Uh. Yea.” Man, am I a good talker.

“Okay just checking,” he said as he did a full turn around on his bike. I guess he thought about leaving and changed his mind, because not two seconds later HE WAS BACK.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he begged, as if I were some damsel in distress that only needed saving. As if. Who is this guy?! I gave him a pointed look loaded with unspoken words and he sped off. Not ten feet from my car, Biker Guy boasts loudly to his ever-silent pedestrian friend, “Hey dude! Check out that hot chick!”

That was the point that I took my leave. I was ruffled but figured that it wasn’t an every day occurance. So I posted about it online:

And then I moved on with my life. In fact, I’d almost completely forgotten about that incident until yesterday during my lunch break. I was about fifteen minutes into enjoying my sandwich when I see a guy in a striped orange shirt ambling over in my general direction. Again, nothing odd. This time however, I had my car off and my windows down, with one foot up against the window frame for comfort. This guy, who we’ll give the pet name of Mr. Fetishes (which I’ll explain later) says hi. I mumble hi back without letting my eyes stray from the page I was reading.

I realized Mr. Fetishes was not satisfied with stopping at a simple hello when a shadow fell over my book. I was annoyed to realize that he was actually physically LEANING on my car with his head tilted down to speak to me.

“Find a nice place for lunch, did ya?” He asked from above. Again, my awesome skill of always knowing what to say kicked in.

“Yea.”

I notice that his weight is shifting. Awesome. He’s leaving. But I was wrong. Instead of his weight shifting away from me – in the direction that he needed to be headed because I wanted nothing to do with him – instead he was leaning forward, and all the sudden his wrist shot out from his arm and he reached for my leg. MY LEG THAT WAS PROPPED UP ON THE CAR FRAME. My brain had stopped processing at this point, but thankfully my leg did an auto-jerk away from the strange man with reaching hands.

And my eyes glared. Even though my mouth stayed shut, my eyes spoke VOLUMES to his in the form of:

“Stay away”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Go find someone else to bother”

and what I especially hoped to portray was this: Touch me and I will kill you.

Mr. Fetishes just had one little thing to say before he departed into the unknown, before I got so freaked out that I hit the gas running and drove straight back to the safety of my red brick office building. “I was just teasing, I just wanted to – you know – tickle your toes,” he waggled his fingers ever so sickeningly.