Jeanie In the Saddle

Last weekend I saddled up and rode a horse for the first (and most likely last) time in my life. It was a relatively brief hour, but it couldn't have ended soon enough for me, for several reasons.

For starters, it was hot. I mean, really, really hot, Florida-in-June, 90-degrees-at-noon, hot. Super-hot weather equals a super-sweaty (not to mention cranky) horse, rider, and instructor (more about that later).

Secondly, horses, I learned, are not my thing. I thought maybe I was missing out on something because my only previous interactions with horses had been visiting and feeding my neighbors's horses when I was a kid and touring my boss's horse farm one afternoon approximately two years ago. I had never had a chance to try horseback riding and I was curious, but also anxious, about what it would feel like.

The opportunity presented itself during my recent trip to visit my sister and her family in Florida. One afternoon, shortly after I arrived, we compared summer bucket lists. Much to my surprise, despite the fact that my sister and I are very different, two of our items were the same: a hot-air balloon ride and horseback riding. The hot-air balloon ride idea quickly deflated once my sister did a price check, but a one-hour horseback-riding lesson was both affordable and available.

So off we went to a horse-rescue ranch on a toasty Saturday morning. I was excited but simultaneously trying to banish thoughts of Christopher Reeve during the 40-minute drive. I didn't know what to think when we arrived and found a group of teen and preteen girls lolling around with cellphones, big-gulp smoothies, doughnuts, and freezer pops. It seemed we were disrupting their leisurely morning by arriving for our scheduled 11 A.M. appointment.

Approximately 15 minutes later, after signing a waiver in a scrounged-up plastic binder, my sister, my seven-year-old nephew, and I were instructed in the basics of horse grooming, which included brushing with no fewer than five different brushes and cleaning the hooves, and horse tacking. Horses require a lot of upkeep, and grooming this horse reminded me why I don't have pets...or kids, for that matter.

I was fortunate to have a kind, patient instructor who seemed a bit older than the other girls who were hanging around for this part of the lesson. Unfortunately, for some unknown reason, she moved on to work with someone else, leaving me in the clutches of a snotty teen named Megan who ordered me to tell her where to place the saddle on the horse's back. Having no prior horse-riding experience, I naively expected her to provide that information. She gave me a long withering look when I placed the saddle farther to the rear than it should have been and rudely corrected me, making me feel totally idiotic.

Following my drill sergeant (with smoothie in hand) into the arena. Is it too late to run away?

So I was already feeling discouraged even before I took the scary climb into the saddle and was again berated for not placing my feet correctly (heels down!) in the stirrups. What else did I do wrong? The list was endless. According to Megan, my less-than-encouraging instructor, everything I did was wrong, from not holding the reins correctly to sitting too tensely (tense would be an understatement for how I felt) to not kicking the horse hard enough (I didn't want to hurt it!).

Displaying my improper riding form...while Megan berates me. (But isn't my nephew cute?!)

After 30 minutes of relentlessly yelling at for my incorrect horse-riding technique, Megan apparently gave up on me as a hopeless case (similar to my one and only skiing experience). And when I started to fear that I'd be stuck on the horse forever, one of the preteen girls strolled over and instructed me to lean forward, throw my right leg over my the horse, and gracefully hop off, which I did (though less than gracefully) while Megan busied herself with some other task. I was just thankful it was over and the poor horse and I survived, more or less in tact.

In hindsight, I'm glad I had the experience, though it wasn't the enjoyable one I hoped to have. I'm proud of myself for trying something different, something that scared me a bit, that I wanted to do at least once. And, if nothing else, I can rule out future horseback riding and find a more relaxing activity to which I'm better suited.

Like bungee jumping, perhaps...

A Week of Workshops

In a continuation of my newly-begun quest for personal growth and life enrichment, I took a giant leap from my comfy zone by attending two workshops last week. And did I mention they were free?

The first was billed as a wellness workshop, which included three segments on nutrition, basic yoga stretches, and meditation guided by a hypnotist (!). I was admittedly nervous beforehand as I thought about performing yoga in front of other people. Until last week I hadn't ventured beyond my beginning-yoga DVD set, performed safely in my living room, away from the probing eyes of others who could see how ridiculously inflexible and unbalanced I am. 

But what I discovered during the workshop's yoga section was that public yoga is far less intimidating than I thought it would be (at least it was with this instructor and with this group). The truth is everyone in a yoga class is focused on what they're doing and on their own breathing and movement, not on yours. I think this workshop was the impetus I needed to finally sign up for yoga classes (a goal of mine since January) and allow myself to risk looking very silly in public. (Hey, let's face it, it wouldn't be the first time!) So I'd say the workshop was definitely a success.

The second, a writing workshop with Rochester, N.Y.-based poet M.J. Iuppa, followed by a poetry reading of her work, was even better. It was the quintessential "artist date" (and how wonderful was it that the poet/teacher is also a Julia Cameron fan?!) in every sense of the word. The writing exercises were challenging but very beneficial, producing two pieces of which I can be proud, and I learned some new creative-writing prompts that I can reuse in the future. And the best part of all? I felt very comfortable in this group (and really, how often does that happen to this eternal misfit?), like I belonged within a small cadre of like-minded creative artists and scholars. It's so wonderful to feel accepted, in addition to feeling artistically fruitful, for even a brief time.

And on a humorous side note, some of the workshop's other perks, included compliments on my poetry-writing and poetry-reading styles (seriously, anyone who knows me knows that I'd rather skydive 100 more times than ever speak publicly, though I managed, somehow), and a remark from one of the other participants that, in her opinion, I bear a striking resemblance to "a Russian actress who was on The Sopranos." I'm typically accosted by people at least every other week or so, asked if they know me from this or that place, and told that I look just like their niece, cousin, former high-school classmate, etc. I think this latest "identification" may be my favorite, and I suspect I'll be chuckling to myself for quite some time over this comparison of me to a presumably attractive, exotic actress.

 Now, please excuse me while I Google "Russian actress from The Sopranos"...

Pioneer-Woman Pursuits

I've begun implementing the next part of my healthy-eating plan by making my own granola (last weekend) and yogurt (yesterday). 

I've thought of doing this before, and seen countless "quick and easy" recipes for homemade food that piqued my interest, but inevitably shrugged off the idea every time it cropped up, telling myself, I don't have time to make my own food.

Well, who does? I might never have more time than I do right now, so I need to make time for it, the same way I make time for workouts, laundry, grocery shopping, and other odious chores and errands. You know, because it's something that's truly meaningful and beneficial for my short-term and long-term health. Sure, it's more time-consuming than plucking a carton of yogurt off the store's shelf or grabbing a bag or box of granola from the cereal aisle. 

But factor in the time that I spend carefully examining the ingredient lists as I try to determine which products are the most natural, unprocessed, and least sugary. There's also the price comparisons that I resort to regardless of the amount in my bank account. I'm frugal. I use coupons as often as possible and try to choose the most affordable healthy option on the shelf, though I'm learning to rank health factor over cost factor whenever I make my choice.

Anyway, back to my pioneer-woman pursuits... 

The Internet has made the recipe search so easy. (What would I do without it, besides spend a fortune on cookbooks?) It was there that I found both recently-attempted, mostly-successful recipes for honey-nut granola and crockpot yogurt. 

The granola truly is quick and easy. Just mix various nuts, oats, sunflower seeds, spices, and a few other ingredients together in a large bowl, spread the mixture out on a baking sheet, and place it in the oven for 20 minutes. It tastes and smells amazing once it's baked, and it stores nicely in the refrigerator, providing breakfast (with almond milk...yum!) for up to a week (depending on how much you make).

My first attempt at homemade granola (with my quite-amazing oatmeal-peanut butter bars in the background).

The crockpot yogurt recipe is slightly less foolproof, though I admittedly ignored part of the recipe's directions, with predictably less-than-perfect results. I politely declined to use powdered milk to thicken up the mixture and used 1% instead of whole milk, which resulted in a thin - almost soupy - yogurt that resembled store-bought yogurt only in color and taste (that's what my arrogant, unfounded bias against powdered milk got me).

My beloved slow cooker came through once again!

I stuck my plastic yogurt container in the freezer to avoid sipping it through a straw and found that the hidden yogurt beneath the protective frosted coating was quite thick and tasty. (Frozen yogurt > yogurt soup.) I'll undoubtedly tweak the recipe next time I make it (or perhaps consider following the original directions by using the offensive powdered milk) and see what happens. It's all part of the adventure. 

I'm rather enjoying this nifty new hobby of mine.

Post-Skydiving Reflections

"I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life - and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do." ~ Georgia O'Keeffe

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When I booked my skydiving reservation, I did it with the belief that it could be a life-changing experience. (If I survived, of course. Ha ha.) I knew the jump itself would be frightening (and it was, to say the least), but the end reward, I believed, would make the entire experience worthwhile. 

You see, I wanted to raise my standard of living. I wanted to challenge myself, as I have throughout 2013, starting with creating this blog, to face my fears and move forward with living my life despite those fears. I don't want to shrink back in fear, running away from uncomfortable or frightening experiences that would enrich my life, that I would ultimately enjoy, if only I could conquer the initial discomfort and fear. 

As I explained to my skydiving instructor, I wanted to skydive because I was afraid to skydive. I will no longer allow fear to dominate my life, controlling my behavior and keeping me locked safely (or so I tell myself) inside my comfortable shell. It will no longer determine what I do or do not do. I've set a new, higher bar for the next chapter of my life. I will live a goal-oriented, dream-following, sky's-the-limit life that I've always wanted but never thought was possible. I will make my impossible possible. 

It all starts with belief in myself and my abilities. 

It starts with disabling fear before it gains any power. 

 It starts with challenging myself, changing, growing, and living a little bit more every day.