It started as Two Sisters Landscaping. My sister Linda, who lives in Iowa, came up to visit this past week. I was in the process of transplanting my perennials to our new house and Linda joined in. We dug up hostas and columbines, and a seriously entrenched false indigo, put them in boxes and loaded up the back of the Gator for the three-mile trip.
At the new house, we chose the perfect spots for each plant and lovingly nestled them into their new home. When we were finished landscaping, we went into the house. She hadn’t seen my new house yet and I was eager to hear her ideas for renovations. We began to measure rooms and windows. Two Sisters Landscaping turned into Two Sisters Design Team.
When renovating an old house, Linda is a good person to have on your design team. She has an artist’s eye and years of experience renovating her own homes. She recently purchased an old house in Iowa and did the gut out and rebuildroutine. My talents are confined to pounding in a nail now and then and slapping on a coat of paint. Linda knows her way around the workshop.
My limited measuring talents mean I can’t be trusted to cut a piece of wood to size. Linda can measure to a sixteenth of an inch and use a compound sliding mitresaw to make the cut in one try.
Where I would try to pound a nail into sheetrock and expect it to hold 100 pounds, my sister knows how to find a stud and has the smarts to know when reinforcement is needed. Linda can lay tile, put up drywall, add texture to walls, and install curtain rods that are level. While I thought I was doing good by being able to tear out the old, soiled carpeting, my sister can tear out complete walls and use a sander to refinish wood floors.
I had previously purchased a closet organizer from Menards, only to find out it was designed for sheetrock walls in closets that are square. I have neither, so with measurements in hand;we headed to Menards in Superior. Another talent my sister has is knowing how to navigate in Menards. Whether it was sink stoppers or curtain rod hardware, I pushed the cart while she led the way. We found the perfect drapes for the bedroom, rods for installation, and a carpet remnant the exact size to finish two bedrooms.
Back at the house, I was the ‘here hold this’ and ‘go get me a (fill in the blank tool)’ while Linda was on the ladder installing and on the ground making perfectly measured cuts in the carpet roll.
However, even with my sister at hand, the Two Sisters Design Team got Tom Sawyer-edby my husband.
We were contemplating how to install the perfect curved shower curtain rod on bathroom walls of questionable origin when my husband Paul came in. He looked at the walls, tapped with his fingers and had the look of consternation on his face only a seasoned carpenter can muster.
“This is going to be a tough job,” he said. “Trying to find something behind these walls to attach to is going to be very difficult. We may need to re-inforce behind the wall.”
It sounded like a job that would challenge even my sister. Paul had just finished installing shelves in a kitchen closet and was about to begin painting the interior of the closet.
“I’ll try to find a way to hang this rod if you want to paint the inside of that closet,” he offered.
Seeing hours of work to hang the rod in front of me, I grabbed the chance to spend the time with a paint brush instead. The closet was a tight space, and I didn’t have my painting clothes on, but it sounded much more doable than the enormous job my husband seemed to think the rod was going to be.
I got the painting supplies and had about one wall done when I heard my husband say, “Oh, this wall seems to be some kind of wood. Looks like I can put these screws into it anywhere I want.”
Within five minutes, he had the rod installed and was off on his next adventure.
By the time I finished painting the inside of the closet (picture a space just big enough to barely turn around in with about an inch of head room), I had paint in my hair and on my shoes.
The good news is that while I was ensconced in the paint job no one else wanted, my sister had been busy washing my windows.
After spending the day with my sister, the one-woman contractor, I spent some time watching her fix the cover for the box of her truck. Then I spent the evening helping her weave handles on the Raku pottery she had made and fired in her own kiln.
I know there may be many of you reading this who will want to borrow my multi-talented sister, but she’s mine and you can’t have her. I sent her home with extra perennials, two bags of horse manure, and some nice rocks to put in her garden. And I offered to babysit her aged dog for a week in August. It’s a small price to pay, and hopefully enough incentive to bring her back for another visit, soon.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Drop and roll
I lie in the tall grass, wondering how I got there. Oh, that’s right, I fell off a horse.
If you are going to ride horses, you are going to eventually fall off. It is a rule of the horse world. Even the most highly trained, docile mount can spook at an unusual object. Even the most balanced rider can get distracted at an inopportune moment. It will happen.
My goal in life is to be riding a horse when I am 90 years old, so falling off needs to be a less traumatic event for me. To this aim, I decided to study Aikido, a non-violent martial art that also teaches balance and how to fall without getting hurt. I’ve been going to Tim Doyle’s dojo in Cornucopia on Thursday nights for several months now. One of the first things I learned in the class was how to roll.
As a child, rolling was easy. I was more limber then, less afraid of injury and closer to the ground. In Aikido, we start with rolling from a kneeling position, slowly and on a mat. We graduate to rolling from a standing position, then rolling backwards. My forward rolls were clumsy at first, but with practice, I can now roll forward effectively.
Backwards rolling took more time. I found I could roll backwards to one side nicely, but the other side was a mess. An image of flopping jellyfish comes to mind. I learned to roll forwards, then immediately backwards in the same direction to develop the muscle memory, instead of trying to think my way through it.
A few weeks ago, our class was visited by two young men just out of high school. Though it seemed to be their first class, they were natural rollers. Forward, backward, sideways, all in fluid movements. I commented about the age difference to my instructor. He told us a bit of ancient wisdom about Aikido. You don’t get really good at it until you reach age 60. Why? As with many things, it’s not the years you put into the art, it is the art you put into those years. Because Aikido is a non-aggressive form of martial arts, to do it well, you need to conserve your movements and do more with less. It requires concentration and wide-spatial awareness all at the same time. These are abilities that become refined with age. As we get older, we become more interested in conserving our energy, doing things to avoid conflict and knowing how to deal with conflict without getting hurt.
Concentration and spatial awareness, avoiding conflict and dealing with conflict without anger or injury are all traits needed in life with horses. So, back to the fall.
I was riding Eddie bareback. It was the kind of ride not meant to go anywhere, only to spend quality time together. I was mostly a passenger, letting Eddie choose our destination and which patches of grass were the finest for his treat. My job was to flow with his movements, refining my balance and working on patience with non-demanding riding. We had already explored the winter pasture, the driveway and done a couple laps around the arena. Eddie was doing well, and enjoying the outing with me.
We decided to venture into a pasture that hadn’t been used this year. The grass was waist high in places. From on top of Eddie, it reached to my heels. Eddie was sure-footed, traversing ditches and avoiding gopher holes hidden under the verdant pasture bed. Blue sky was beginning to return after a day of cold and rain. The air had the smell of freshness only spring rain and growing grass can produce.
We walked farther into the pasture, nearing the spot where my husband has stacks of wood covered with old metal sheets to keep it dry. While Eddie dipped his head into the grass, I looked ahead and spotted a piece of metal lying partially hidden ahead of us. I remember thinking it would not be a good thing for Eddie to walk on unexpectedly. Just as I had that thought, Eddie looked at the metal, and instantly stepped sideways, as if reading my mind.
They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. It’s about that way with falling off a horse. It only takes about two seconds to fall off, but those two seconds are separated into many minute milliseconds.
I remember the moment when I felt Eddie shift. I remember the moment when I thought I could still save my balance, then the split-second later when I realized I was going to fall.
The good thing was, while I was falling I was thinking, “I have to remember to roll.”
Even though I don’t consider myself very good at Aikido yet, those hours of practice in the dojo paid off. Had I been falling head first, I could have done a forward or backward roll. However, I was falling straight sideways. I hadn’t practiced that one yet. So, I did the next thing we learn in Aikido; I let my body become soft and landed in a balanced way.
The not-so-good thing was, Eddie had stopped spooking and was standing still. I fell so close to him that I hit my side on one of his legs. Ouch. Eddie must not have like it either. He decided to walk back to the barn.
As I lay in the grass, breathing away the pain in my side, I had the most insightful, enlightened thought cross my mind, the kind of thought yogis spend years in meditation trying to achieve.
“I’m really going to get a lot of ticks lying here.”
So, I got up, retrieved my horse, and walked him back to the scary metal. He did circles around me while I stomped on the metal, making scary metal noises. After a few figure eights, Eddie decided to stop and sniff the metal calmly. I got back on and we headed home to the barn.
Other than a bit of stiffness in my side, I am unscathed, thanks to Tim Doyle, Morihei Ueshiba (the founder of Aikido), and Eddie. I ended my horse session by doing some Reiki on my mare’s swollen eye, during which she stepped on my foot.
I think I need to go back to the dojo.
If you are going to ride horses, you are going to eventually fall off. It is a rule of the horse world. Even the most highly trained, docile mount can spook at an unusual object. Even the most balanced rider can get distracted at an inopportune moment. It will happen.
My goal in life is to be riding a horse when I am 90 years old, so falling off needs to be a less traumatic event for me. To this aim, I decided to study Aikido, a non-violent martial art that also teaches balance and how to fall without getting hurt. I’ve been going to Tim Doyle’s dojo in Cornucopia on Thursday nights for several months now. One of the first things I learned in the class was how to roll.
As a child, rolling was easy. I was more limber then, less afraid of injury and closer to the ground. In Aikido, we start with rolling from a kneeling position, slowly and on a mat. We graduate to rolling from a standing position, then rolling backwards. My forward rolls were clumsy at first, but with practice, I can now roll forward effectively.
Backwards rolling took more time. I found I could roll backwards to one side nicely, but the other side was a mess. An image of flopping jellyfish comes to mind. I learned to roll forwards, then immediately backwards in the same direction to develop the muscle memory, instead of trying to think my way through it.
A few weeks ago, our class was visited by two young men just out of high school. Though it seemed to be their first class, they were natural rollers. Forward, backward, sideways, all in fluid movements. I commented about the age difference to my instructor. He told us a bit of ancient wisdom about Aikido. You don’t get really good at it until you reach age 60. Why? As with many things, it’s not the years you put into the art, it is the art you put into those years. Because Aikido is a non-aggressive form of martial arts, to do it well, you need to conserve your movements and do more with less. It requires concentration and wide-spatial awareness all at the same time. These are abilities that become refined with age. As we get older, we become more interested in conserving our energy, doing things to avoid conflict and knowing how to deal with conflict without getting hurt.
Concentration and spatial awareness, avoiding conflict and dealing with conflict without anger or injury are all traits needed in life with horses. So, back to the fall.
I was riding Eddie bareback. It was the kind of ride not meant to go anywhere, only to spend quality time together. I was mostly a passenger, letting Eddie choose our destination and which patches of grass were the finest for his treat. My job was to flow with his movements, refining my balance and working on patience with non-demanding riding. We had already explored the winter pasture, the driveway and done a couple laps around the arena. Eddie was doing well, and enjoying the outing with me.
We decided to venture into a pasture that hadn’t been used this year. The grass was waist high in places. From on top of Eddie, it reached to my heels. Eddie was sure-footed, traversing ditches and avoiding gopher holes hidden under the verdant pasture bed. Blue sky was beginning to return after a day of cold and rain. The air had the smell of freshness only spring rain and growing grass can produce.
We walked farther into the pasture, nearing the spot where my husband has stacks of wood covered with old metal sheets to keep it dry. While Eddie dipped his head into the grass, I looked ahead and spotted a piece of metal lying partially hidden ahead of us. I remember thinking it would not be a good thing for Eddie to walk on unexpectedly. Just as I had that thought, Eddie looked at the metal, and instantly stepped sideways, as if reading my mind.
They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. It’s about that way with falling off a horse. It only takes about two seconds to fall off, but those two seconds are separated into many minute milliseconds.
I remember the moment when I felt Eddie shift. I remember the moment when I thought I could still save my balance, then the split-second later when I realized I was going to fall.
The good thing was, while I was falling I was thinking, “I have to remember to roll.”
Even though I don’t consider myself very good at Aikido yet, those hours of practice in the dojo paid off. Had I been falling head first, I could have done a forward or backward roll. However, I was falling straight sideways. I hadn’t practiced that one yet. So, I did the next thing we learn in Aikido; I let my body become soft and landed in a balanced way.
The not-so-good thing was, Eddie had stopped spooking and was standing still. I fell so close to him that I hit my side on one of his legs. Ouch. Eddie must not have like it either. He decided to walk back to the barn.
As I lay in the grass, breathing away the pain in my side, I had the most insightful, enlightened thought cross my mind, the kind of thought yogis spend years in meditation trying to achieve.
“I’m really going to get a lot of ticks lying here.”
So, I got up, retrieved my horse, and walked him back to the scary metal. He did circles around me while I stomped on the metal, making scary metal noises. After a few figure eights, Eddie decided to stop and sniff the metal calmly. I got back on and we headed home to the barn.
Other than a bit of stiffness in my side, I am unscathed, thanks to Tim Doyle, Morihei Ueshiba (the founder of Aikido), and Eddie. I ended my horse session by doing some Reiki on my mare’s swollen eye, during which she stepped on my foot.
I think I need to go back to the dojo.
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