New friends on the other side of the fence

With new territory comes new friends, right???

Last year i wrote a post about How a Girl gets a Horse and i am HAPPY to say, my Fox Trim Classic is now 27 years old and alive and kicking!

And by kicking i mean: KICKING, showing of his manly hood, making lots and lots of noise and pretty much acting like a 5 year old, i just discovered myself, stallion!

A couple of months ago, my dad got 1.5 horse. Yes, 1.5 horse because one is really big and the other one is a really little little Shetland pony. And thus.... 1.5 horse...

My mom and dad have a nice old barn besides their house and we build some stalls. We also got them a pasture. Nothing fancy but nice, underneath the trees, and we thought it would be sufficient for them. The first 2 months those horses could not go outside... It rained and rained and rained.... But  finally after 2 months they did and oh, they were some happy horses.

All this time Classic would sneak peeks to my mom and dad's place to see what was going on. The problem was they were a little to far away for him to get to know them a little bit better plus i don't think he sees really well long distances (being old and all) so "making new friends" wasn't an option, yet...

But that all changed last week. Because of the weather and the location of  the pasture the grass is not growing as well as it should. And Classic has TONS and TONS of grass. His pasture is a bit bigger and no trees. (Yes some people call it spoiled)...

Soo, last week dad and i decided to move his 1.5 horse to Classics pasture, so half of the pasture could be used for them and the other half for Classic (Yes, there has to be a boss...). With of course a 10 foot barrier in between so Classic wouldn't jump in with Magic and Raisin (and yes Raisin would be the tiny one) and cause all sorts of trouble...

But making new friends is really really hard.

And i mean REALLY HARD! Because of the task we have given ourselves by starting our own large family farm and with me getting sick and going true chemo for almost 64 weeks there wasn't much time to make a lot of new friends. So seeing my super stud trying to make new friends is like, "Oh, I'm not the only one who has troubles doing this...".

In Holland i was blessed with good friends. Friends that have grown with me into the persons that we are now, friends who came later in life and which i experienced good, not so good and bad things with and friends that are friends for life.

BUT... I am here now. And they are there...

And telling your friends what you do in a new country with a different mentality with different customs and different views on life, just doesn't cut it all the time. Plus their lives go on too. They have new jobs, new adventures, get married, have cute little babies and i have no idea about what it is they are doing all day, every day... And that makes me miss them even more. Don't get me wrong, i don't want to go back to The Netherlands... i just wish they were here...

I think we, as in Classic and his new buddies and me, will be fine given time.

There are soo many nice, sweet, talented, good, friendly, smart, open minded people here, so it is only a matter of time before i meet some more of them. Because yes, i too have met some really fantastic people already, but friendships need to grow and i can't expect that all the friendships i had in Holland, build up over 28 years, are gonna be here at my doorsteps right NOW. Although i sure would want that! And i am a very impatient girl! So every second here in this beautiful country is another second in which i miss my friends back "home".

But i have good hope, and i have time... What more can a girl wish for...

And as far as my super stud goes... i checked him again just now. He's grazing happily on one side of the fence and Magic and Raisin on the other side looking at each other, sniffing the air and act dumb... I think they'll be all right!

...

Trading Places

When I was 14 years old, life was so full of exciting things I almost didn’t know where to start...
Almost…

At that age I had already figured out that I wouldn’t be a good nun, boys where way to interesting to give up. I also knew that I did not want to be involved in anything that had to do with mathematics (go figure that 10 years later I got my masters in Agricultural Economics). I was defiantly not going to be a trucker, well not in Holland, the roads were just too small and there was too much traffic.  And that I loved speed except on my horse, whenever he decided to take off!

What I did figure out however was that I wanted to get my motorcycle drivers license. I thought driving a car was for sissies, so I would be much cooler to drive a huge motorcycle. Not a Harley, no one of those fast ones. Maybe yellow or flashy green???

Of course I would talk about this a lot and it wasn’t long before one of my friends told me, “Well, Leontien, if you really want to ride a motorcycle, why don’t I come over to your house with my 250 cc (HUGE BIKE) and you can try it out?”

I wasn’t really sure if I wanted him to know how incredibly awesome I would be so I made him a counter offer. “I would ride his bike if he would ride my horse. Trade places for a bit and see where we end up?"

So for weeks he bragged to all his friends that he would ride my horse and be really really good at it, make him (the particular horse) do all the tricks those little girls (being me, riding dressage) would do. And me telling all my girlfriends that I would take that motorcycle and speed off into the sunset.

Ah well, being young and innocent can be such a blessing…

Finally the day had come. My friend came over with his motorcycle and parked it right behind our house. I had to do a “take, double take” because that bike was BIG!!! But of course I couldn’t tell him that, instead we went to the barn and I showed him my horse, Flicka (yes after the movie, My Friend Flicka). His name was really Flipper, but I didn’t agree with the fact that my horse was named after a dolphin, so Flicka it was.

To this day I’m still not sure what my friend thought of my horse but we decided to ride the bike first then the horse.

In order to ride the bike properly we went to the little alley besides our hog barn. He explained all the handles, the pedals, the gas and yes the brake. He drove up and down the alley and came back smiling like crazy. Yes, he was going REALLY FAST! According to him I needed to “get a feeling for it” and so I rode with him on the back and yes it was EVEN FASTER!!! Maybe i wasn't the speed devil i thought i would be..?

I wasn’t even sure if I could do this…

But it was my turn, and i couldn't back out. He again, explained all the handles, pedals, brakes and gas and I got on. Oh my Gosh, I was really gonna do this…

I drove 10 meters (maybe 30 feet give or take) and got myself into a tractor tire rud (more like a gully), and the damn thing (the bike) was just too heavy for me, so next thing you know, because yes, I was also driving 1.5 miles an hour, the bike tips over!!! I fall on my side and the bike falls half on top of me and my friend has to run over (luckily not that far) to come and rescue me! I didn’t get hurt, well, not fiscally but my ego got a HUGE DENT! This was not how I imagined it to be, I was going to fly into the sunset, not get toppled over after 30 feet!

After I recovered from my embarrassment it was my friends turn to ride my horse. He was still chuckling over the fact I did so poorly and I’m sure if we had cell phones with Internet access it would have been sent to EVERYBODY!

So we saddle up Flicka and got him into the riding pen. I explain to my friend with what foot he needs to stand in the stirrup, how to use his reins and what to do to make Flicka go forward or stop. Did I mention I rode DRESSAGE??? He puts the left foot in the stirrup and with a little push from me, the literally falls onto the saddle…

Yes, boys are anatomically different build then girls…
So when you fall onto a saddle like that, something is going to hurt. BIG TIME!!! He didn’t only turn blue, no he turned GREEN! And he whimpered instead of screamed. Which made it even worse.

He got off Flicka, with again a little help from me and sat on the ground for at least 15 minutes. By then the color in his face had returned and I had put the horse in its stall.

We decide to tell everybody that “it just wasn’t our cup of tea…” and left it at that.

My appetite for being cool and riding a motorcycle went away that day. Now I’m just cool driving my car with the air conditioning on high…



...

Friends and side effects

Cancer, chemo and side effects go hand in hand. My chemo was Interferon… A nasty drug which I had to take for 52 weeks…. 4 weeks of  5 days a week, IV’s in the arm and 48 weeks of shots, 3 shots a week... It didn't last 52 weeks, it lasted longer...

I was done with the first month of treatment, the IV’s and we had started with the first week of the shots, my dear friend Niels and housemate in our student home in The Netherlands and his girlfriend Moniek came to give me some moral support and see the country. And what is more fun & comforting than seeing the country by going to the hospital together with your “sick” friend???

Usually my mom, dad, Bastiaan’s mom and dad (they came over for 5 weeks from Holland),Bastiaan, Hanneke (my sister), Jan Willem (my brother) or other friends would come with me but now they all had a day off too. Niels and Moniek were more than happy to come with me and I would normally be awake the whole ride home (about one hour long) and then fall asleep in my own bed, before the real side effects would start, as in shaking, trembling, throwing up, running a fever, not be able to go to the bathroom or going all the time, and did I mention the shaking and trembling???

So, we got to the hospital, I get my shot (the second one that week, it was Wednesday) chat with all the nurses, have lot’s of fun and show Niels and Moniek the differences between hospitals in Holland and the USA. And introduced them to all the fantastic nurses and doctors in Fort Wayne.

We get the car I sit down and I’m just rambling feeling GREAT! I would get some anti nausea medicine, some flu resisting medicine, sleep medicine and some good pain killers together with the Interferon. And somehow this time the little cocktail was doing its work fantastically! I noticed that halfway home I’m slurring a bit… not too much…. Just a little bit, or so I thought. Niels and Moniek who never had been in the company of someone who is on chemo didn’t know what to expect so they figured it was normal.

But it wasn’t…

They put me to bed, which apparently wasn’t that easy. On really bad days Bastiaan would escort me out of the car, in the house and in bed. Niels and Moniek had the privilege this time. And all the time I was mumbling, speaking in slurred sentences and not making any sense in whatever I was trying to say.

They put me to bed and I slept…

In the evening the side effects started again, like clockwork, and that Thursday Niels and Moniek went home. My dad’s turn was that next day, on Friday, and we went to the hospital. Before they hooked me up to all the proper machinery and gave me my shot I told them about my strange drive home and that if was feeling so woozy and that I had problems making normal sentences.

And then all hell broke loose!

My fantastic oncologist, a colleague oncology doctor, and 5 nurses were standing by my chair, asking me questions, taking blood and arranging MRI’s and CAT scan’s…

They came to the conclusion the nausea medicine they had given me for the last month was only supposed to be given to me for one week (or given once every 3/4 weeks like you have with more often used chemo). Not five weeks in a row every single day…

Luckily there were no long lasting effects, but they gave me 2 weeks “off”, as a breather and recover from the buildup of medicine. After those two weeks we continued with the interferon but I can never have any nausea medicine again.
But that’s all right with me; I wasn’t planning on getting sick no more anyway…

And yes, now I know…
• Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body
• Sudden confusion, trouble speaking or understanding
• Sudden trouble seeing in one or both eyes
• Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination
• Sudden, severe headache with no known cause

... Means get YOUR BUTT back INTO the hospital, chemo or not!



…

Farmgirl meets tattoo

My very best friend K wanted a tattoo...
I loved tattoo's but not too many and always on somebody elses body... or on hot men...

The HOT man, not anybody i know :-)





On a bright Wednesday in 1999 my friend K and i decided to go get a tattoo. She really wanted one and i thought i go along an support her with this decision. Because everybody knows that the best tattoo's are done in Amsterdam, we decided to take a road trip and go to Amsterdam.

Coming from the boonies this was a big deal. We each told our mom's we were staying over at the other ones house and  skipped town (little village with less then a 1000 inhabitants, that is).

After arriving in Amsterdam we went to go see Tattoo Bob, on of the most well know tattoo artists in The Netherlands, but he was too busy to take care of us little farm girls so we went to another one. There pretty much hundred's of tattoo shops in Amsterdam and we just picked out one that looked the "safest". And luckily for us we found one that looked pretty safe had a female artist what made both me and K feel much better!

K thought it would be a splendid idea if i got one too! It would mean we would be friends forever and had the tat to prove it... Since I'm not very good at saying no (never was and never will be) and she even let me help pick the one, i said yes... OK...

We decided on a four leaf clover. And YES, this should ring a bell!!!

We both could use some luck, in our friendship, in our lives and  defiantly in our love life. What better symbol to use, we figured. And we wanted it on a spot where it wasn't too obvious.  Not too obvious ended up being right above our buttocks, that way if we grew old we could wear old granny pants and nobody would see our tat's...

K and I showing our tattoo after 12 years, It's still there!!!
And my hair was coming back after chemo, YEAH!!!








We went upstairs after the nice artist introduced herself and sat  us down besides a 400 pound guy with no clear skin left, AND getting a new tattoo of a pig, and argued about who needed to go first. K freaked out a bit so i offered (she made me) to go  first. The lady was going to tattoo dry first, so i would get used to the feeling and then she was going to put the four leaf clover for real on my body.

While i was laying there with my booty sticking up, a big fat guy smiling at me and K asking me a hundred times if it hurt... No it doesn't hurt and if it did i wouldn't tell you anyway otherwise you're gonna back out... I got myself a nice tattoo right above my pantie line above my buttocks.  And if i wear low jeans, it is visible. K followed me (i looked really though but it hurt like hell) and got herself a bright new shiny tattoo too!

Our booties!









A couple of months later my mom and i are watching TV. Underneath the TV in a cupboard are the sweets and my mom and i decide while watching TV to eat some chips. "I'll get them." i say and walk over and bend forward to reach underneath the TV in the cupboard....

"What do you have there on your back???!!!" Sometimes when you bend over your shirt comes up and your pants go down...

Oh, SH*T!!!

"Hmmmm, nothing mom". But she saw, and made me turn on the big bright light, asked me if it was real, when and were i got it, with whom i got it and if it was REALLY real. 
And she made me promise to tell dad. The next day.

My dad always told  me if i would get a tattoo he would trow me out of the house. Tattoo's where for bums...

So the next day after dinner (after a night of minimal sleep), i tell my dad i have something to say and show. I pull down my pants and show him my tattoo. My dad looked at it and said, "Well... i always wanted my ears pierced....").