Tyra

"Well hellooooooo dere!"

When Tyra was maybe four years old and we were living in Lexington, Kentucky, we took a road trip. We took numerous road trips during that time period and especially that summer, but the trip I'm thinking of right now took place in late-July, 2003. My good friends Tomas and Ro, along with Tyra and I, took a long weekend and drove in my 1989 Honda Accord hatchback known as "Big H" (his name was Horace) down to a protest in New Orleans, Louisiana.
       
Holy crap it was sultry. NOLA in July - my only experience with New Orleans thus far, and the only one I'll ever have Pre-Katrina, which changed the city drastically, we've all been told.

Of course Tyra was with me. The main event of the protest was a march against a Central American Free Trade Agreement. Check it out - I just found this news blurb in the archives of Indymedia.

http://neworleans.indymedia.org/archives/archive_by_id.php?id=15&category_id=3

The photo on this page - this photo:

Post-trip-and-fall-onto-Canal-Street-with-hundreds-of-people-watching

This photo was from that march. That's my best friend Ro on the left of the giant white banner. That's me on the right, nearest the curb. Check it out - we appear to match. For the first half of the march, I had Tyra with me, attached by her leash looped around my waist. If I remember correctly, my friend Tomas left his post at the center stick of the banner to walk Tyra off to the side a bit. This photo was taken after we turned onto Canal Street, which has massive metal grates/plates across it - a material that sweet Tyra had NO intentions of walking across. When the march crossed the first one, Ty went to scoot around my legs and away from the metal under her feet, and she ended up tripping me with the leash. I totally bit it and scraped my knee and elbows up. She was not hurt, but perhaps a bit nervous of the crowds and general hullabaloo. As it seemed to be bordering on too much for her, Tomas offered to take her and walk her separately, since the banner didn't really need three people to hold it anyway.


*sigh*

Oh Tyra. I'm sorry you ever felt even remotely nervous, though you did invariably steal the show and the hearts of all the hundreds, if not thousands, of people we met together.

I miss you, baby one. My little babushka. I expect to see you when I enter a room. I hold my breath when I wake up in the middle of the night, straining to hear your deep breathing that means you're asleep near me. That sound was the most comforting and sleep-inducing sound imaginable. A single minute spent laying near you and listening to you sleep and I was already falling, if not completely asleep with you. It was as if my soul knew it was safe to relax because you had. Let's face it, kiddo - you were the best parts of me. We were never separate. We still aren't.

But dammit I miss your face. I miss how soft the hairs on your head were, especially that spot between your eye and your ear, where I could kiss you and perfectly smoosh the rest of my face into yours and inhale your comfort. I miss the way you smiled at me, both with your eyes and with your grin. I miss how we could go anywhere - ANYWHERE - and no matter how many admirers were loving on you and giving you people food - the second we made eye contact or you overheard me say your name, even in talking ABOUT you to someone else -- you left your shining spotlight and trotted over to me, happy and eager to share your excitement and Love with me. You lived for me and made certain I knew it. You lived to make sure I was ok. You gave your entire self to me with no expectations and no reservations.

And you were FUN. Dammit, doggy. We had so much fun. SO much fun. Remember when you were still quite young and could easily run circles around me? The hours upon hours we spent in the car - me, rocking the fuck out to whatever music I was currently enthralled with, singing at the top of my lungs, talking out loud to you - you, sitting in the co-pilot's seat, leaning up against the door with your face in the wind, that blissful smile on your face, eyes slit nearly closed, nose craning upward to catch the finer points of the scented wind. And then you'd open your grin and the wind would flap through your doggy lips and your long pink tongue (with the black spot in the middle) would flop out and across your cheek. :) Generally by then, I was grinning right along with you, unable to sing through my giddiness, likely telling you how effing cute you are. You'd always respond to my voice by turning your face into the car, your entire being just beaming at me with Love.

You gave the best Love, Tyra.

And the most enduring. I am ok without you physically in my world right now only because you built me up and taught me how to be OK.

My family says Tyra was an angel. From God. Sent to me to protect me and help me and Love me through the worst times of my life. They sincerely believe - at least a few of them that I'm aware of - that I would not have lived through my mental breakdown without her.

I know this is true. I would not have survived. Tyra has been the singular reason for not committing sincere suicide at least three or four times. I just couldn't leave her alone. She did nothing but Love, and I was her world. How could I take that from her? I couldn't.

*BIIIIG sigh*



Oh Tyra. I did it again. I went off onto another tangent, losing the intended story entirely. We didn't even mention the ORIGINAL story I wanted to tell - the one about when we went to the Gulf of Mexico, that weekend we were in New Orleans. :) Oh well.

There's time for more stories. This'll work for a blog post, don'tcha think? See - I just don't work right without you. My pitiful ability to pay attention is even worse without you next to me. *more sighs*

I Love You, Tyra Ann Quick. I always have and I always will. Talk to you soon, baby.

<3,
~Q~

Weekly Reader + the Usual (ramblings)

Well, well, well.

So it seems that once you sincerely figure out what it is in life that will help move you towards happiness - AND (here's the kicker) actually rely on yourself and go after that elusive state of being - holy crap kids - apparently it's real.

WaitWhat?

I know, right? How else can one explain how my entire existence got so flipped upside down and inside out in such a short period of time. For awhile, after leaving the mr., I felt guilty. Not that I did anything wrong - I didn't. I finally took care of my own well-being and it's been the best damn idea I've ever followed through with to-date. No - I felt guilty for NOT feeling guilty for leaving my husband. I was happy and grateful and beyond finished with that entire way of living. Still - I always thought divorces were so sad, and no matter how "not-quite-perfect" the relationship was, it would always be really difficult.

I've changed my mind. Getting to the point where leaving was a preferred option - that was one of the hardest things I've survived. I mean - wow. Just when I thought I'd hit bottom and things wouldn't get worse -- yep.

"Just kidding! You thought THAT sucked!?! Wait 'til we see what's behind door number 3!"

Once I had actually made up my mind that I needed to change my situation and change it FAST, it didn't suck as much as I had anticipated. It was actually quite freeing. I cut my long hair off, no longer concerned with his opinion. I reconnected with old friends. I walked through the nearest wooded park every day - particularly loving it when autumn came. I hung out with Tyra & my cats. After a few months, I started heading out again & I met the most incredible group of friends.

So ok - I'm still legally married, so I guess I can't say it was "easy" to finalize the divorce (since I haven't done that quite yet), but that's because I'm so busy creating -- music, words, memories, friendships, & the Life I actually WANT -- I forget I'm still legally bound to a man who I haven't spoken to in months. Basically, I'm just too uninterested in going through my finances to finish the paperwork and I don't have any international rendezvous planned before 2012 (hiking the Inca trail with Ro, Heather & her kids, & ????????) so I'm not in any giant hurry. The reason that travel plans even matter (just realized how random that previous idea must've seemed) is because my passport never did get changed from my maiden name to my married name, so I have to legally reclaim my Q before crossing any borders. Unless it's between counties. Or states. Or cities. Or social mores.

The point I intended to write about when I started is this: Just this past August, I was completely miserable. I was living in a tiny town in southern Minnesota, where the only person I actually knew was my husband. Throughout the previous 3-4 years, I had gone through a massive mental breakdown that landed me in the hospital more than a handful of times in maybe a year to a year and a half. I fell in love and married a man who enthralled me because his energy was even stronger than mine, and he joked that his crazy could out-crazy my crazy under the table.

Helpful Hint: When someone tells you something important like this early in a relationship - they mean it. You should actually believe that. Another one I've heard is "you should run from me right now. I forgot how cool you are and how much I don't want to hurt you, but I think I will". Good call dude. Hind sight is 20/20, it's almost true. In that case though - he freakin' TOLD me what was up and I completely overrode the warning in my gut. Oops. You mean he was serious? Hm. Who knew?

Since I've long been convinced that my eventual partner-in-crime will be either a crazy conductor or a mad scientist (perhaps somehow both?) - the crazy thing intrigued me. Not gonna lie - it still does. Something about hitting 30 though -- I don't want to be crazy my entire life and I know I'm not going to be in this life forever. Been there, done that - what's next?

So I'm writing. And some girl friends and I just recently started a band -- it's called That's What She Said and it's already clicking into place beyond expectations. And I'm riding again - with the bruises to prove it. I should take a picture of the one from Saturday, when one of the horses I teach lessons on -Buddy the paint Quarter Horse - he got a bit bored of going so slow (beginner lesson) - he reached around when I was adjusting stirrup leathers and grabbed onto my arm with his teeth. That hurt - I have this pretty black 'n' blue half-circle on my upper arm. Ok - let's see if this works.......

Yeah --------> OUCH.




It's alright though - it was completely worth it. I think back to before August 20th and how insanely different my life was then from my life now.

#1 - I'm happy. Never thought it could happen. Pleased to be wrong.

#2 - I don't have to hide any of my injuries, because they aren't frowned upon (either because they were given to me by someone who never should have laid an ill-hand on me - or self-inflicted cuts that only served as short-lived eyes in that crazy-ass hurricane of yours truly during those years).

#3 - I was GIVEN A HORSE. On the day that I met him, by some people that I had only met maybe 30 minutes earlier because he & I clicked that well. The previous owners wanted him to go somewhere where he would be just doted upon. They/he chose wisely. I certainly do that.

#4 - I was given a keyboard. A nice one. Within 30 minutes of me putting mention on facebook. I named her Eirene. I have awesome friends.

#5 - I have awesome friends.

I'm pretty sure that this post is even longer than my usual ramblings. If you've managed to read this far -- bravo. Lemme know if you'd be interested in reading my memoir when I get that one finished. It's looking to be quite interesting. At least to me. :)

Which reminds me. The ENTIRE purpose for this post, at least as I had originally thought: my great new friend, Esther Marcella, hosts this radio show on KMSU, where she interviews writers. She knows that I write, and when she found that I write this blog, she asked me to be on her show.

Sure! So I'm told it's 10 minutes of reading work of mine and 10 minutes of Q & A, and she's already asked my permission to question my reason for starting this blog in the first place. I said "most certainly and of course". Abusive relationships and mental health issues and really unhealthy ways of coping with the stress that we ALL struggle with at some level or another --- not talking about it when it's been so integral in who I am today would be remiss. I have no intention of wallowing for the rest of my life -- continuing to classify myself as a victim when I know damn well that I am just as strong, just as brilliant, and just as beautiful as you are. Yeah you. We all are strong, brilliant and beautiful. So yes - I will talk about it openly. And I will NOT be returning to re-experience that chapter in my life ever again.

Wrap it up, Ms. Minnesota-Good-bye............

Alright. Later Gators. :)

Love you all,

~Q~

an awesome email, with a precursor of a completely random memory that I ran with (go figure)

I received this email in my facebook account earlier today, from my fantastic friend, Moosh. A bit of background for those just hopping into my life in the recent past:

Right out of college with my bachelor's in equine administration, I went to work for the US Dressage Federation as a Programs Coordinator. When I was hired, we were based in Lincoln, Nebraska. After 1 year (exactly), I was piled into Big H (my trusty olde Honda Civic hatchback, incredibly full of random stickers spouting my viewpoints. Because if anyone knows anything about Life, it was me at.......22 or 23. Duh. And I so obviously know SO much more at 30. Seriously.) and I was picking up a good-looking young hitchhiker off of Highway 2 headed out of Lincoln. His name was something that is normally spelled with a "C", but his was spelled with a "K". Kody. That's it. Kody, who was a few years younger than me (I think he was 21 - I would've been 22 for another 6 weeks, so.....almost 23). He was hitchhiking from California to Bonnaroo in Tennessee. I happened to be moving to Kentucky at that very moment. He threw his stuff in the claustrophobic back of Big H, met Tyra, Trinity and Maya, as well as me :) and we spent the next 3-4 days chillin' out. We went to my ex-fiance-#1's for a stop through, and we spent the night at my aunt's house in St. Louis. Kody cooked us some killer scrambled eggs in the morning. We drove to Lexington, KY and had water fights in the pool at the extended stay hotel my company put me up in, ate buns and peanut butter from the local grocery store, drank all too much with people we just met, and then hugged and said good-bye. For the record, nothing sexual happened. It was almost innocent. In that aspect, it was completely innocent. :)

Whoa tangent. Slow down little lady.

Wow. So the point was, before my wandering fool brain took off into a memory I hadn't thought of in probably 5 years --- the point WAS, dearest internet --- I worked with Moosh since about 2-3 months after I started at USDF, which was a good 8 years ago, and shared tons of time, stories, and life with her over the next 2 years or so.

You should hear some of the stories we have from when all of the LC was together over those years. Ye gods.

I got this email from Moosh earlier today and yes - I did get permission to share it with the world (all 3 of you).

Q-
Love the lefse! I really didn't know what to expect, so I didn't look it up online or anything, I wanted to be surprised. I followed your serving suggestion, and I was so hungry when it came that I ate almost a whole pack myself.

So here is the conversation with the boys and me, after Scott brought in the package:

Aaron: who is it from, mommy? Me: it's a treat from Sarah! Matthew: Sarah Palin?
Me: no, Sarah Quick, you know her. Matthew: oh, your new friend? Me: she's not really my new friend, I have known her for quite a while. Matthew: is she a judge? Me: no, she was just coming to the show to see us. Aaron, upon seeing the lefse: I thought it was going to be candy corn! WAAAAAAAAA. Matthew, upon seeing it: it's ok Aaron, I like quesadillas.

Yes, they think they are so funny :-).

Anyway, thanks so much. A very cool treat!

Love,
Moosh



Aaron and Matthew are Mooshey's twin boys, who just turned 5. They have a younger brother, Luke, who is 2. She and her husband Scott have their hands full, but they are absolutely delightful kids, all of them. I *heart* them. Even if they did think I might be Sarah Palin.

Love to you all!

~Q~