No NFL recap but Steelers are 9-0!

This month I'm writing daily--no excuses--with the intent to have a complete manuscript by the end of the month. The blog post on that is tomorrow's entry. Since the Steelers played later in the day, I did not watch the early football games--gasp!--but instead wrote. I have eight hours of the Redzone Channel recorded, but this morning I'm back at the computer writing.

For years, I've spent Steelers Sunday with my buddy, Scott, and usually one other fan. First, it was Grandpa Bob and then when he married and moved, Vince. Sometimes it was just the two of us, on our spots on the couch watching our boys. Scott's wife, Krista, told people I was Scott's football wife. Like Tom, she watched the games, but it wasn't live or die like it is for the rest of us. 

For week one this year, I didn't go to his house for the first time in years. Vince was in Pittsburgh for several months, Grandpa Bob was quarantined, and I was contemplating the Sunday NFL ticket purchase. Maybe too, I had some apprehension about visiting the house where Krista would no longer greet me with one of her hugs. 

Then we won. My superstition immediately kicked in, and when we kept winning? Yeah, I was content to maintain the status quo and communicate via text with my guys. 

Saturday, Scott texted the group, all three of us, and invited us to come for dinner and watch the game. The others accepted. I whined about my superstition and had every intention of not going. That morning, I rose and began writing like a fiend, and two hours before the game, while I was doing some procrastinating research, I ran across the comment section of my blog.

It's a section I forget about. It used to alert me when people commented on my entries but somewhere that disappeared, and I rarely think to look at it. Oops. People are so nice! Thank you for your comments!! 

I should be checking this daily because it made my heart sing! I read the comments, and then I re-read my entries, especially regarding Scott's wife Krista, and suddenly I heard her voice. She gave me a stern talking--something along the lines of phooey on the superstition, so they lose a game, isn't friendship more important, life is too short, I should know--in her voice that I hear so often. 

So, after a bit of a cry for his loss, my loss, our Steelers Sundays where we caught up with one another, and the fact I'd never hear another story from her lips that would have me laughing so hard my sides would hurt, I texted I was coming. 

Sunday was spent with my Steelers friends social distancing six feet apart, eating pulled pork sandwiches and other stuff, and watching our boys (please, we are the worst undefeated team) add another W to the win column, and I didn't once take notes about the game. 

All of the above is my excuse for no Monday NFL recap this week. Because I was hanging with my Steelers peeps and enjoying the day. 

Nine and O BABY!

The truth

I've had a lot of anxiety this week. Krista's death, coupled with wandering out into the world, has caused physical and mental problems. Sleep has been elusive, and our house is more subdued.

I know it won't last. Life will gradually return to what it was before my friend suddenly lost her life, but for now, I mourn and continuously think about her family.

And I face my mortality.

No matter our real age, we feel we're invincible. Death is for those who've lived long lives, raised children, and accomplished items on the bucket list. As the years move, age slides further down the numerical line because, hey, fifty-five isn't old. We have years!

It's a load of crap, of course, but it's what we hold on to because to think otherwise is scary. Then reality smacks us in the face, and we realize--it can happen to us.

Ack!

Life goes on even as I second guess each pain in my body. Eventually, this worry will fade into the next concern, arising only at times when Krista will pop into my head. This death isn't my first rodeo. Unfortunately, I've lost way too many people not to know the drill.

But now, stuck in my house while the world implodes around me, I'm not there yet.

Krista Jane

We met in Lamaze class on the first day. Her husband Scott wore a Steelers shirt and, in his introduction, professed his undying love for Pittsburgh's professional football team, so, of course, I had to talk to him. He introduced his wife, Krista.

She and I gave birth two days apart. We were still in the hospital when Scott and Krista arrived in delivery. We didn't know how things had gone until a week later when the visiting nurse arrived at my house. I was still in my pajamas in the late afternoon, tired, sweaty, hair mussed. I inquired as to whether or not she knew the family, and the nurse gleefully told me she'd just come from there. Krista had been bathed, dressed, and wearing make-up.

I hated her.

Only later, did I learn the truth. Krista had hysterically begged her husband to come home so she could present herself as a woman fit to be a mother. It was the first shower she’d had since arriving home with her newborn.

We became fast friends.

Recently, in a conversation with another friend, I mentioned how this COVID quarantine wasn't much different from my norm. I stayed home after my first daughter was born and have been alone at home since then. Only, thinking back I realized that wasn’t entirely true because I’d had Krista. The two of us spent those first years of motherhood side by side. If we weren't physically together, we were on the phone, and sometimes we did both.

I made a note to check in with her. I never got the chance.

Yesterday, Krista had a heart attack. She died. She was my age.

Even now, I grapple with the news. Krista was larger than life. Full of energy and laugher, she’d enter a room full of strangers and leave with everyone's numbers on her phone. My dad always said, like him, Krista never met a stranger she didn't know. It's unimaginable to think that light has been extinguished.

I'll miss her stories. God, she had stories! She was the best storyteller with incredulous, entertaining tales told with the right inflection and humor or sarcasm that always left us with aching sides. A few of her stories have been retold on this blog over the years. Even now, I can hear her voice and her laughter after she’d one of her tales.

Family was her number one, but pictures came second. She always had a camera in the diaper bag, in her purse, in the car. Every single event in life was documented through her lens, and if you were with her, you’d get copies. I have many hard copies—later digital pictures--of our times together. Photographs adorned her entire home—on the refrigerator, on the mirrors, on her shelve--and when she ran out of wall space, the joke was she built another room.

She loved passing down family traditions almost as much as she did making new ones--pumpkin carving at Halloween, number candles on the birthday cakes--and every holiday she decorated with a mixture of her past and her present. She was the one who kept our Lamaze group get-togethers going, documenting every moment with her camera.

We shared quite a bit. Krist held me together when my father died. I kept her sane when she was bedridden during pregnancy. We spent 9/11 together, glued to our television, our husbands out of town. We celebrated birthdays, and recently, our kids' graduations. We navigated motherhood together, through the good, the bad, and the ugly, talking everything to death, and while we didn't always agree, we listened to one another's side.

Life had us moving in separate directions as the girls grew but we kept trying. We vacationed together--Pompano Beach, Disney World, North Carolina. Those trips were full of crazy antics, much laughter, and a lot of great conversations, not to mention stories. They are well documented on this blog. Our group never had a dull moment!

For the past decade, we spent the football season together. Krista and Scott had me over to watch the Steelers play, and catching up with Krista was just as important as the game. No matter how many months we’ve been apart, we’d always pick up right where we’d left things. We used to say we remained friends because we knew too much about one another--that we knew where the bodies were hidden.

Krista is in every room of our home. In the master bedroom she helped me remove and replace wall border. My husband didn’t believe we could accomplish the project without him. We petered out in the corner above the door, so close to finishing, but we agreed to stop, figuring Tom would never even notice.

In bedroom number three, she caught me on a step stool when I was nine months pregnant, putting stickers on the baby's fan. She lectured me until I got down, and I decorated the bookshelves instead. Several weeks later, she would miscarry her own pregnancy only days before I would give birth to Darcy. I hesitated to call her with the news, but I shouldn't have worried. She heard the baby in the background, and her screams of joy made me cry. 

Her favorite memories took place in my kitchen. She loved to tell the story of her daughter Brianna hanging on to my husband's pants leg, her neck stretched to her back, to exclaim, "Tom, you're as tall as a tree!" Or the time after Madison's first birthday when my dad laughed so hard at the two girls feeding themselves spaghetti, the sauce getting all over their faces instead of in their mouths. 

In my Steelers room is memorabilia she gave me when I told her of my plan to convert the playroom. At my front door, is the storm door Krista convinced me to get, and in my dining room is the picture she snapped of our two girls on the beach that we swore would’ve worn photography contests had she only entered. This morning, it was the first thing I saw when I filled my water glass. 

I'm dazed, stunned, going from denial to rage to sadness. Krista had been on my mind this past week. There had been a Facebook response where she'd told me she'd missed me. Then the realization I mentioned above, and even that very morning, before Scott called with the terrible news, I had brought her up in a conversation with the girls.

Krista believed wholeheartedly that those who’d died before us watched over us. We talked a lot about feeling their presence, and we both agreed we'd do the same when our turn came. We had an agreement to watch over each other’s family. Yesterday, without warning, Krista reminded me of that promise.

No worries, dear friend. I have your back, and I welcome your haunts.

I will miss you dearly.

Dogsitting because I'm weak

When we first got Elliot, I was a wreck. As a SAHM, I mother the hell out of my kids--and apparently my dog. I can remember sleeping on the floor with him for the first few weeks because I didn't want him to wake up and cry. I talked to him and worried constantly and was a complete emotional wreck. It was nuts. Now I'm an expert when it comes to Elliot. He and I have a routine, and I'm the one he comes to when he needs to go out because he knows I will believe him and delegate. He loves Tom the most, but he respects me.

During Darcy's graduation party, my Steelers buddy and his wife casually asked, in a joking sort of way, whether or not I would be interested in watching their Puggle while they went on vacation in June. My first response was a loud, bold, capital lettered, resounding, "NO." But then, because I'm freaking nuts nice, and because they talked about it only being two days while their normal guy was out of town, I casually, in a joking sort of way, said, "sure." Somewhere between that party and their actual departure date, it became a real thing.

Of course, I knew the dog, having spent my Sundays at their house watching Steelers games, but it had been a while since football season. Scott brought her over for a play date with Elliot, who mostly spent his time allowing the puggle to sniff his nether regions and the rest of the time watching the crazy dog run circles through my house. They had no trouble with each other, and suddenly it was all set. I was watching their two-year-old puggle Jazzy for a week.

They brought the dog on Wednesday morning. I had closed off my bedroom area so she wouldn't have as much room to circle, but she seemed right at home upon entering. Scott went through the instructions; feed twice a day, allergy medication once a day, treats after pottying, etc. They left the vet number, loved all over the dog, and left. Oh, and they left two turtles with me as well. That was a last-minute addition with the assurance they would "be no trouble-don't worry about them-just feed them and leave them." Off they went leaving behind their precious baby.

Scott: "I'd really rather leave the kids here and take my Puggle on vacation."

Krista: "Oh, stop!"

He was serious. This man loves this dog as much as Tom loves Elliot. If only they treated their wives with this much love and happiness...

As they drove away, Jazzy stood at the door, crying and jumping up on her hind legs pawing at the glass door.

Jazzy: "Wait! Wait! You forgot me! Please don't leave. DADDY!"

I speak dog, so believe me when I tell you I heard all of that. It was pitiful and sucked me right into my mommy mode. I sat down with her and loved her. I told her where they were going, how we would love and care for her, and I tried to reassure her that this week would blow by so fast and that her family would return soon. She sat, on her rump like a human, with her legs in front of her, and turned her head side to side as she took in what I was saying. Then she proceeded to run through my house like a maniac, and when she wasn't doing that, she was doing this:

It made me sad, and it made me a wreck. I began having anxiety that this dog would never relax and would keel over and die from the stress of being here. I worried when I walked her, and she didn't pee. I worried when I walked her that she would pull right out of the leash and get hit by a car. I worried when she didn't eat her dinner that she would starve to death. After walking her around the block, I worried she was overheated and might have a heart attack. When we opened the front door, I worried she'd race out and disappear forever. I worried that she couldn't relax and that she didn't seem to ever sleep. By the end of the day, I was a raving, stark mad, lunatic of anxiety.

Darcy: "Why did you say you would watch the dog if it was going to stress you out this much?"

A good question, and one I will remember from here on out. Last summer, I took care of my neighbor's dog, but it was only a go over and feed it kind of thing. I only brought her to my house during the day because I felt guilty about her being alone in her house all day. 

I became a SAHM so that my kids didn't have to go to daycare, and that has just naturally morphed into feeling the same way about animals. I didn't crate my kids during the day, so why would I crate my dog? I kept bringing the neighbor's dog to my house, and when I felt she was getting stressed and causing my anxiety level to rise, I took her back home. However, this dog was here for the long haul no matter how hard she whimpered for her home.

She didn't sleep at all during the day. She pooped in my closet. She kept going from room to room and from couch to couch. She couldn't seem to relax, and if by some miracle she would start to do so, Elliot would bark, or my refrigerator would make a noise, or I'd shift position, and she would spring up and take off running. 

Then Tom came home and began questioning me on all sorts of things regarding the dog. He hated that I had closed off the bedrooms. He worried the dog would put a hole in our new couches because she climbed over them like a cat, so I covered the couches with blankets and told her sternly to get down off the backs and the arms. He worried she would puncture our water bed if she got on it, so I wouldn't let her on our bed. She normally sleeps with her owners, but that thought stressed me out because I move a lot, get up a lot, and am constantly hot, so the idea of a body next to mine brought anxiety, not to mention Tom's concern over the water bed. 

I decided to crate the dog for the night, telling myself repeatedly that all of the experts say it is the safest and most secure thing to do.

She cried. She whimpered. Maddy couldn't take that, and so she took her to her room and into her bed. I fell exhausted, emotionally, and physically, into bed that night. By 5:00 the next morning, the dog was scratching at Maddy's door. Scott told me she usually gets up by 7:00, but at 5:00, she was begging to run around the house again. 

Tom took the dogs for a walk, which increased my anxiety level, thinking he would be annoyed, and he fed and watered them before he showered and had his own breakfast. He was very laid back about it all, and I realized his nonsense the previous night was just a bad day at work. Since I was already up, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived from two nights of early morning awakenings, I jumped at the chance to walk the dog around the block again when my neighbor showed up at 7:30 a.m. with her own pug—anything to tire her out.

We came back home, and suddenly it was as if the day before had never happened. Suddenly the dog, not to mention me, was relaxed. She slept. She didn't run around crazily. She went into her crate when I left to run errands and to see a movie. She napped with me in Madison's bed for a couple of hours. She went outside each time and did her business. When they came home from work, she played with the girls and greeted Tom with Elliot when he came home. She ate her dinner when it was time. She sat and watched us all eat, pushing Elliot out of the way when he got too close to any of us. Suddenly the dog adjusted. That, in turn, changed me. Except for another poop in my bedroom, and I blame Madison for that one, the dog was an angel.

That night I went to bed early. Jazzy was with Tom, but at some point, she got on my bed and licked me, and when I pet her, she curled up next to me and promptly went to sleep. I let her be. As my friend reminded me, our waterbed is inside a mattress and protected, and so the dog slept with us all night. I didn't mind it. Not even when she burrowed under the covers to curl up against my legs.

Darcy: "Does this mean you're going to get another dog? Get the little lap dog you keep saying you want?"

Not in a million years!

I raised two children, and I raised my dog, and now I'm going to enjoy myself. Adding more warm bodies into this household and into my life is obviously way too stressful for this soon to be retired SAHM. Someday I'll welcome grandchildren and grandpets, but for now, this is my last duty. No matter how cute he or she might be. I mean it.

Sunday Prayers

Our Father,

who art in Pittsburgh,

football be thy game,

thy kingdom come,

6 Super Bowls won,

on earth as it is in Heinz Field.

Give us this day a playoff victory,

and forgive us our penalties,

as we defeat those who play against us.

But lead us into a victory,

and deliver us to Miami!

A-Ben

Go STEELERS

-Author Unknown

---

Lake Lure Trip - Day 8 - Home Bound

From the travel journal:

(Cara) - 8:45 AM - It's raining again as we load the car and set off. Kelly is driving. She has her CD picked and once again she is winding her way around the curves of Lake Lure. The mood is more somber than our first day, but for the most part, everyone is ready to get back home. Well, Kelly and I could have stayed longer or at least taken a day or two to return home.

We dropped off the keys at the management building. I asked about whether or not they had found out if our unit had been entered without our knowledge, but the girl behind the desk just shrugged and told me she had "heard something about it", but she had no answers. Oh, well.

2:00 PM - We have hit rain most of the way home. Not so much stop and go traffic, but there is quite a bit of heavy traffic. Several idiots are driving without their lights on in the rain which makes driving a tad tricky, but Kelly and I are managing quite nicely.

Krista had an episode at one of the stops we made. She was pumping gas when a guy in a Hummer pulled up to the pump beside her. He wanted to know how much gas mileage the van got, but she told him she wasn't the owner of the vehicle. He continued asking her questions and inferred that he would love to buy her a Hummer. She smiled and drove off, parking the van next to the building where we were all inside. 

He then pulled up next to her and asked if she was a Steelers fan (I have a Steelers license plate rim). She reminded him again that the van wasn't hers, but yes, she was a fan. She walked into the building. Later while standing in line to get food, the man appeared with a woman this time. 

Figuring that this was his wife, Krista attempted to strike up a conversation with him regarding his Hummer, etc. He flushed and tried to act like he didn't know her or didn't know why she was talking to him. Krista enjoyed that immensely. "Pisses me off when men do that," she said.

9:30 PM - We are back and everyone is safely at home. The van made it. We made it. I took 355 pictures. A fine trip indeed.

Favorite Part of the Trip

Cara - Our Biltmore visit

Maddy - Jumping on the rocks in Broad River

Brianna - Horseback riding

Natalie - Swimming and the picnic with Mom

Darcy - Horseback riding

Kelly - Hiking up on Chimney Rock

Krista - The scenery, the atmosphere and relaxing

Worst Part of the Trip

Cara - Horseback riding

Natalie - Going up the hills on the horse

Krista - Rain and cold

Kelly - The rain making us miss the boat trip

Lake Lure Trip - Days 6 & 7 - Wet, Wet, Wet, NC

From the travel journal:

Weather - High 50's / Rain, rain and more rain

(Cara) - Our last two days were wet and chilly. It rained and rained for both days. Thursday we slept late, watched television, cooked a big breakfast, played board games, sat in front of the fire, drank, read and just relaxed. We did get out a bit to visit the Recreation Center and a small convenience store around the bend, but for the most part, we hung indoors.

Friday we signed up for the lake cruise, but the rain was so heavy it was canceled. We headed into Chimney Rock village and spent the day shopping and being tourists. We had some lunch, took some pictures, and made some purchases. We were one of the few out so it was quite pleasant. The girls spent their money on rocks, candy, and knick-knacks and were very happy.

In the evening we burned our last log, packed our luggage, finished up the liquor and relaxed.

Lake Lure Trip - Day 5 - Horseback Riding

Weather - High 78 / Sunny and Hot

orse

Originally uploaded by tcboos

(Madison) - We went horseback riding at Riverside Farms. My horse's name was Thunder. I was behind Darcy and her horse as we left the barn and headed off on the trail. At first, I was scared because Thunder's walking was like one side going up and the other going down. It was weird to get used to. He kept trying to get right up to Darcy's horse, so he kept speeding up to catch up to her horse. I had to pull on the reins, but I didn't feel like I had a lot of control. He just followed Darcy's horse, and after a while, he started following my commands. By the end, he was a good horse.

(Brianna) - Originally uploaded by tcboo(My horse's name was Shadow. He was a brown horse with black hair. I was behind my Mom and sister, and the guide was behind me. At first, I was a little nervous because I'd never done this before, and at times walking up the side of the mountain it felt like I would tip over the side. He stepped once on a rock and stumbled, but he didn't fall. I then heard a rustling of leaves and saw a black snake. The horse didn't react. By the end, I was used to my horse and I had fun!

krisnathorse

Originally uploaded by tcboos

(Natalie) - My horse's name was Miss Roxie. I had to ride with my Mom because I wouldn't be able to remember all the directions like, "pull to the right when his ears go down." You had to lean way back when the horse got on the rocks, and I would have probably lost control if I was riding by myself. Cara didn't like her horse because he kept going into the trees. Once he started scratching his butt on a tree and he just kept doing it and wouldn't stop.

(Krista) - I wanted to go horseback riding, but I thought it would be on flat ground with the mountains in the background, not part of our ride! My horse's name was Miss Roxie and Natalie rode with me. We were behind Madison in the line. I got a little nervous in the beginning when we were in the barn listening to the instructions and the head lady said only one guide would be going with us. I sort of made a suggestion that we have two guides with us! They just assumed we knew horses. 

That lady told me to get on and pull Natalie up after me. I was frustrated at that because first of all, I didn't know how to get on and I certainly didn't think I could pull Natalie up from the ground, with me up so high. They did help me up and then help Natalie, but only after I said something. Then the main lady started out of the barn and I was thinking how do we move, but then she started calling all of the horse's names and the horses knew what to do. They just started walking and got in a line and off we went.

Once we got on the trail and we circled the barnyard, I was fine thinking this was it and when the guide started leading us to the mountain, I was all like, "WHAT?" Then Cara's horse started acting up and that made me really nervous.

Once he went off the trail and started down the mountain and he was caught up in the bushes. I told the guide nearest me to help her. "She doesn't like horses," I said. "She didn't even want to come today and she'll just get down and leave. You need to help her!" I said this because the whole thing just made me nervous. We were inexperienced for god's sake. 

Then the guide is telling Cara that she is doing the wrong thing and that she is telling her horse to reverse. Reverse? Horses have a reverse? Where is the "R", I'm thinking. Come on! We were clueless. 

Then I worried about Cara the whole time. She was so straight in the saddle and so quiet. I've never heard her so quiet, and I tried to talk to her, but she wasn't answering, but one-word answers.

Going up the hill was more relaxing than going down. At the top of the hill, you either went to the left or to the right and if you went the wrong way you were over the side of the mountain. So as we walked up hills I would practice before we go to the top, moving my reins to the right and left. My poor horse. And the obstacles.....oh, my....the obstacle course we were on! Did we have to have so many obstacles? 

Trees across the trail, rocks, and stones everywhere, two trees with a hole to climb through, and of course, the horse didn't cooperate. Going down there were stumps and roots and loose dirt....it was a fall waiting to happen. I was looking at my watch the whole time, and let me tell you, I was happy when the hour drew near. I was glad when it was all over!

arhorse

Originally uploaded by tcboos

(Darcy) - I really wanted to go horseback riding. Kelly and I wanted to go so we kept talking about it. My horse's name was Dixie, and when I got on her back it felt nice to be back on a horse. When we started on the trail it felt cool, but then Mommy's horse started acting up. I was behind Mommy, and Dixie kept getting too close to Sambo, Mommy's horse. That made me scared, especially when Sambo started off on his own down the mountain. I was worried that my horse would follow. Going up the mountain was a little scary, but going down was way fun!

(Kelly) - I was very excited to go horseback riding. My only concern was that I would be too heavy for the horse. So when I walked into the barn I looked at all the horses and knew immediately which horse I wanted....the biggest, most muscle-y horse, and that was the one I requested. 

I was never scared except possibly of the horse dying from underneath me after having to carry my weight up the mountain. If I had had my way, the trails would have been steeper and more dangerous. As far as my concerns for Cara went, I was never worried about her safety, only for her disposition afterward. But she was a trooper. I was also concerned about her back hurting and I worried about that some.

About halfway through the ride, I felt a regular popping feeling underneath Sugar Bear's saddle. I was concerned that Sugar Bear had broken her back, or her leg, or her shoulder, but I didn't want to walk home, so I told no one until the end of the ride. Loved, loved, loved it....the whole experience. 

Loved the way I smelled afterward. When Darcy and I first walked into the barn, I said, "I love the way stables smell," and she said, (breathing in) "AH, me too!" So I knew at least one other person was enjoying the ride. I wanted to go faster. I wanted to canter and trot.

kelhorse
Originally uploaded by tcboos

horse

Originally uploaded by tcboos

(Cara) - I have ridden on trails on horseback before, so I did know what to expect, but I have to say that I have never been a horse lover. They are way too big and way too powerful for me to feel comfortable around them. I'm not experienced with them or on them and frankly, they scare the shit out of me! 

But Darcy is taking horseback riding lessons and she loves horses, and Kelly's New Year's Resolution was to ride a horse again, so I was determined that both of them would ride horses. If that meant me sucking it up and getting on to a horse, then that was what I would do.

We opted for Riverside Stables because Natalie could ride with Krista. We paid our money and then listened to the guide, Tammy, who then gave us the following instructions (in her southern drawl):

1. Don't let your horse get too close to the horse in front of you. Try to keep a horse length between them.
2. Don't let your horse's head go down to eat grass or else your arms will be tired from all that pulling over and over again.
3. Pull your reins to the left to go left. Pull your reins to the right to go right. Pull back on the reins and say, "Whoa!" to stop the horse.
4. Lean forward in the saddle going up the mountain and lean back in the saddle when you climb down.

The lady who took our money led me to my horse. Sambo was not in the stables with the other horses but tied off in a corner outside. I should have known that wasn't a good sign, but I was trying to be optimistic.

Sambo was a white horse with a brown speckled hide. He wasn't soft. His hide was coarse and his mane prickly to the touch. The lady could not adjust the stirrup, so she told me to lift my foot up past my neck and climb aboard. I attempted that lift and when I couldn't quite lift my leg that high, she grabbed my foot and lifted it for me. She then had me grab the horn and she and the other guide grabbed a butt check and hefted me on up into the saddle. A sobering experience. 

The horse immediately started moving like he was being loaded with ten tons of a load and the lady gave him a stern talking to: "Stop it, Sambo!" She untied him and led him out of the stables. We were put behind Tammy the guide, for which I was quite thankful for. We set off.

We started out the barnyard gate and traveled past a creek and around the large fenced in the barnyard. Sambo did not want to move so he would just stop, which caused all the other horses behind us to stop. Tammy would yell, "Come on, Sambo!" and tell me to give him a kick. 

Sambo would move a bit forward and then stop and lower his head to eat grass. I would pull on the reins to lift his head and he would lower it again. Then I would kick him, pull on the reins and make some horse like sounds like I've heard my cousin, Joyce, make a million times when she's with horses. Sambo then turned his head and nipped my left foot. I'm told that this wasn't what he was doing (by Darcy, the now horse expert), but I was sure he wasn't nuzzling me.

As we got closer to the mountain, I got a tad nervous that Sambo wouldn't get me up the mountain. He kept acting like all of this was beneath him, but he would move and then he'd stop. Tammy would scold him, and then he would start climbing again. All the way up, he huffed and puffed as if I weighed more than any other human he had ever been forced to carry. 

The mountain was sort of like a forest of trees with dead empty branches and a ground covered in dead leaves. There really wasn't anything scenic or beautiful about the trail. 

It was very narrow and always on one side was a death drop-off. I tried not to look down that side. Trees were everywhere we walked. Sometimes we had to walk through two trees close together. Sometimes we had to walk over fallen tree trunks. Other times we had to circle around a group of trees. No matter what we had to do, Tammy would instruct us on the way to do it, and Sambo would do the complete opposite. 

Walk through trees? Sambo would go off the trail and walk around. 

Walk over a tree trunk? Sambo would stop or stumble as if he had stubbed his hoof. 

Walk around trees? Sambo would walk right through the trunks and get me caught in underbrush and vines. 

When Tammy would say, "Watch out for the trees on your left as you come up this mountain," then Sambo would be sure to swing his body directly into the tree so that I would bang into it with my body. 

Three times he got my left foot so tangled in the branches and vines and brush that by the third time I thought my foot was going to be yanked from my leg, and I whined, "This is hurting me!"

The worst moment was when Sambo just veered off of the trail and started sliding down the mountain. I think even that scared him. Like an errant child proving he knew best and then suddenly discovers that the mother was right. Sambo managed to get his foothold, and I pulled on the reins and "Whoa-ed" him until he stopped. 

I wanted to get him back up the damn mountain so I tried pulling to the right, but in my haste and nervousness, I pulled him the wrong way. Sambo smirked at this, went in the opposite direction, and did a complete circle. I tried to get him turned again, listening to Tammy as she tried to talk me through it all, but he was damn stubborn. 

Finally, the second guide appeared and led him back up the mountain and back into place. Off we went and at every tree, he would act like he was going to eat it. I'd pull him away and he would move on to the next tree, stop and try to eat it. 

Once he just backed up into a tree and began scratching his rear end. This caused quite a reaction from everyone behind us, but I was holding on for dear life while he swayed back and forth, back and forth scratching away. I found it very strange behavior indeed.

Tammy kept threatening Sambo, "When we get back, Sambo, you are not resting. You are going out on the next ride and it's a two-hour ride. You'll spend the whole day out here if you don't start straightening up!" 

I would cringe each time she said this and when she turned back around, I would pat him and whisper, "She doesn't really mean it. You are going back to a pile of hay and horse munchies and plenty of rest!" Sambo would just turn around and nip my foot.

I was quite happy to dismount that horse. I threw money at Tammy and thanked her for getting me back in one piece. I walked on shaky legs to the other barnyard and took pictures of the cute baby colt and filly and pretended all was well. 

When I returned home I discovered a huge rip in my new jeans and a nice thick stick stuck directly through the denim. It took several minutes to remove the darn stick. Not as pleasant a day as the time spent at the Biltmore, but this day wasn't about me. Kelly and Darcy enjoyed it and that was just fine with me!

After our horseback riding experience, we headed back to the resort. Krista called the front desk and reported the entry into our unit from the previous day. They were not happy to hear this and immediately sent our friendly maintenance men to check it out. Three men showed up and spent considerable time taking the codes off of the key lock to our front door. They muttered something about not being finished and how they would have to return later and they left. We never saw them again and never heard from anyone regarding the entry.

We packed lunches and headed down to the lake where we spent the rest of the day lounging, swimming in the pool, and playing in the stream. We talked about taking the cruise but left that for another day.