School

Today I woke up and went running and then I got ready for my lab.  We went down to the dairy, and  waited in the barn.  We watched a kitten and mom cat play for a quarter hour, chasing eachother, and making good use out of the giant litter box, that was the barn. After many minutes of lecture about needles and what size you use, we went out to the alley, and Doctor showed us how to use a drenching hose.  So I took one hose and walked over to the cow, picked up the head in one hand, drenching tube in the other, and started pushing it down the throat. I wasn't sure if I was doing it correctly so luckily one of the TA'S came and at least watched and made sure I was doing it right. I got it down and the doctor told me he saw it in the right tube which was a relief, then I pulled it out, and said well cool.  Next I tried to draw blood, the jugular in a cow is the size of a hose, half that size in a sheep.  I was able to get it first shot with the sheep, and yet four times couldn't get it in the cow, eventually we got blood, with help.  Someone in passing said if you can't get the jugular the first time you fail at life, I guess I fail.  I need practice on that. Such an interesting class, they did a necropsy on a dairy cow, we have drawn blood from tail veins and rectal palpation in cows.  I'm getting so much experience so happy. I'm probably annoying because I want to do it right, and not cause dammage, so I'm very careful, and ask if I'm doing it right a lot. I was able to drench a cow however by myself and the help of a head lock, which is pretty cool.  I'm worried about being a girl and doing large animal vet work, you have to be strong, and I'm working on that. I just want to get all the experience I can and do it all while I have someone to help me. I'm pretty sure horses hate me, so I'm re-considering my equine specialisty choice, it may end badly, as horses like to buck me, kick me, and step on me. Small animals, large animals, or mixed practice it will be an adventure, and I can't wait.

Dashboard in a Chevy

Chevy's are a way of my life, I've been raised around and in them. So many countless trips have  been made squished four across in a '72 Chevy, Cheyenne. This truck was handed to my brother and after a new motor, it was running.  Dad had to get a newer bigger Chevy, a '95. I was  so happy to see the new shiny boat in our driveway.  I ran in the house and grabbed all my dolls, and began strapping them in the seats. As I grew up, my brother started to drive, and I went everywhere I could with him. I was the annoying little sister, dang good at it. We've been to rodeo's, horse riding, feeding, talking, listening to music, getting hay, getting gas. Some of the best memories were made in the Chevy laughing and joking.  No feet on the dashboard in the Chevy.  I wouldn't dream of it.  The sun has cracked the dash, falls apart with the slightest touch. Holes in the floor board, cellphone used as the radio, knobs fall off, and the rust in the bed are all part of what makes it great.I have yet to sleep in the bed of a Chevy but during long school years and noisy neighbors I have been found in the backseat of a Chevy in the dead of winter. Just remember to lock the doors when you leave.  Lectures and long discussions about life and where I'm headed have taken place on the tail gate. Countless hours of laughing and joking, and trading stories have been told leaning against the back bumper. The paint is cracked and peeling, dents on the body scratches on the side and it still runs. Its a shelter and a shield. Its a multi-purpose vehicle that can do anything with the right driver. The '72 Chevy will never be replaced, the '71 Chevy taught me to drive a stick.  The clutch sticks, the gear shift is rusty, and the door just broke. Round the field we would go gradually getting better with every round, and every story told.  The only thing it couldn't do is mix up the terrain. Don't slam the door, never, you wouldn't know what would happen. Lap belts in the Chevy save you from the law, the steel cage saves you from the world. Easy to work on, and easy to fix, what you see is what you get.

Hunting

Tracks

The men drive with one hand

On the wheel

The reservoir flows below

Gurgling and frothy where the bridge

Crosses and combines with

The rusty rail road tracks

The men turn to cross, and

The one and only 35 car train

Comes and the hands come down

The flashing and beeping drives the

Men insane

This train will not be stopping

And the men start creeping

Up and across the bumpy

Rick-racketing train tracks

And up the rocky dirt road

The men roll down their windows

And look for a canyon but

Only see a wash with bottles

The men stop and pick up the cans and glass

Slowly moving up the mountain

They see the perfect spot

The men set up the cans and jars

On mountains and on rocks

And the men play kick the

Can down, down the hill,

Because there were no rabbits to kill. 

A poem I wrote waiting for a train to cross, the only train for miles around on tracks in the middle of Spanish Fork Canyon. 

Peace

I can lay on the driveway and look one way and see horses, the other and see cars, and pinetrees.  I can be completely at peace.  I love nature but not everything that goes with it. I hate spiders, dady long legs are fine.  I once killed a spider and put it down the drain, my brother told me it would crawl up the drain and haunt me.  I ran the hot water for a good five minutes. Another time I scooped it up, and placed it gently outside.  I would hate to be a spider, never knowing when the final blow will come. I'm not a spider thankfully. I don't know why I have this irrational fear of spiders.  I've tried to explain it to myself eveolutionarily speaking. Spiders do have the ability to kill us, and maybe we have developed over the many years an innate phobia. My father doesn't have this fear, and will always kill my spiders, or my brother...he will eventually kill them, after he has thrown them at me or on me. 
I love working with my hands, fixing fence, fixing animals, and I love being called on for my knowledge, little experience, whatever, I love to help and lend a hand. I think I have said I more then I care to admit.
Family is something that should be held near and dear.  A sisters bond is something that can never be adopted by two friends.  There is a biological bond that ties these girls together. A bond some will never understand.  There is another bond between brothers, and another bewtween brother and sister.  The strongest bond will never be known.  An older brother will always try and take care of his sister, and an older brother will shelter the younger brother. Love between the two can be shown by lending a shoulder to cry on a leg to sleep on, hugs and kisses and thousands of I love you's. The other willing to risk life and limb to save the other. Jokes are exchanged and this bond goes beyond friendship it is a biological bind. Its an understanding of eachothers background and what made them what and who they are.  Its knowing that no matter what they are your sibling, flesh and blood.  It is the ultimate gift. Nothing can match this, but a parents love will always win.  A parent will die for their child.  A cape buffalo will bring back an entire herd to fend of a pack of lions from killing the offspring. A parent will do the same, throwing their life in front of the bus. They will take a life sentance to ensure their child has a better start. Their life is donated to their child, they remain  their own person, but provide so much support and love to ensure their child has everything.  That is how a parent should be, they should love their child more then anything.  Each spouse should understand this love and nurture it. Your parents make you who you are. You make decisions as well, and can't blame your parents for every wrong thing in your life. You have the ability to make decisions, you have the ability to change your life, and make yourself whoever it is you are seeking.

Resolutions

Cool, I have a blog, and I don't even know how I got one, or that anyone would want to read it. I'm not dying, I don't have a relative who has a horrible ailment.  My grandfather is dying of a lot of things; cancer, breathing problems, heart and blood pressure problems, and old age to name a few, but it probably won't end in a miracle. My blog is not about that. A lot of tears will be shed over this event. Death is something I don't understand, even less then birth. I understand death is necessary, if there wasn't death there would be bilions and billions of people. The population would double faster then it does now. Death is important, and where there is death there is birth. There have been many births. In my own family my niece was born. A beautiful girl, just like her sister and mother. Impossible to believe that her genetics are 50%  my brother. Hard to believe my own brother has been a father for five years. Even harder to believe that I will be a mother some day and will probably call him up and ask for parenting advice. Parenting advice from the person who led my brother and I to believe he had a son he fed to the sharks.  Babysitting became making my brother touch cielings for pancakes, and locking children in closets, not to mention the whispering through heater vents to mimic ghosts.  On second thought I might not call him, but he is a great father.
I feel very sad for my  mother, I can't imagine a day without my own father. I have a tendency to cry when I see those I love crying, tears will be shed this spring break.  Life goes on, and everyday you get a little bit stronger. I listened to a story about all the things that come out of death. New relationships are formed some are broken.  Death can bring people together and tear them apart. Life can be a whirlwind of rollercoaster rides, death and birth are two rollercoasters everyone must take.  As I was watching my Grandfather in the hospital bed holding his hand, I wondered if he could hear us, what state he was in? We played a game asking him questions and watching his heart rate, depending on how high or low, he answered yes or no. I'll never know if he could understand us, but that's ok, I like the answers we got. Death is a hard thing. Nothing wrecked my world like the death of my Grandma.  We grew up with one Grandma, she lived in California, she visited us every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and birthdays; two in the summer. She had a change purse and we would sort her coins keeping all the ones of our birth years, important dates, and by the end we had all of her change. We would sort her pills, and have people sandwiches, two pieces of bread, and meat or cheese in the middle. The only one who could ever take over my room for weeks at a time, and sit for hours telling us stories as we fell asleep on her lap, or play game after game; checkers, marbles, rummy, monopoly.  So many memories, and so many memories that will never be achieved from her mind.  I hope someone takes the time to pick my memory, and listen to everything they want to know. Her death turned our world upside down its safe to say its never been the same. One of my bucket list accomplishments is to truly say goodbye to her, but I'm doubtful. Perhaps the hardest thing is getting over our own feelings, to let go of something completely, its not part of human nature and yet it is.  We have evolved so much, and yet get held up over life.  One of the only good things that come out of weddings and funerals are meeting relatives you have never seen, laughing your head off at stories, and watching people heal and grow. I've heard from a lot of people that they are getting the negatvity out of their life forgetting the people that never supported them, but perhaps its easier to never let them in to begin with.  If I forsee a relationship heading south, I stop, discontinue. I ignore the negativity and when it comes it passes quickly, and I move on soon after it begins. Death however I hold onto, and don't view this death as negative, but just as time passing. THe only thing that ever got me through writting essays was knowing that in a week the essay would be done, and just a memory.  Maybe that's how life is, just a thing we do, memories to be created. I couldn't imagine life without freedom. I have compared my dorm to prison cell 8x10 the only difference being I can leave whenever I want.  I can take a slow walk down town, I can walk my dogs, and I can eat a double bacon cheeseburger from the best hamburger shop ever.
Thankfully there is birth and revival, thankfully there is green, and peace, and nature.

Afro wearing dog

My dad walked in the house, along with being trampled by our dogs and a cat, and he looks at me and says its like living in a zoo.  All I could say is isn't it great.
I love the chaos created by everything going a-wry. Dealing with animals is awesome, nothing shy of wild at times.  Coming home and being asked a dozen questions about animals, and sicknesses and lameness makes my day.  Being able to finally answer questions and feel like I know what is going on is amazing. I have always told people I can't wait until I'm a vet, even if it means waking up at two in the morning to run out to a farm.  I'm afraid I'll go bankrupt, charging people is hard, and then I think about the hours I've spent studying for chemistry and stats, and then raising the bill seems easier. Country Veterinarians have been romantisizesd by James Herriot and other writers, although not the same to some.