We had no doubt that we had found the place--the ranch was unbelievable. The huge lodge of a mansion was unmistakable. The gate welcomed us with a sign that was spelled out in big bold letters with a lasso "Welcome to Rusty Gables." Western Decor engulfed the front yard, and the waterfall fell smoothly over some rustic rock sculptures just across from the horse pasture.
Not many things can be as memorable as 17 light switches in one room and a breakfast from heaven. I take that back. Perhaps it was that king size bed. If I could have carried that thing out on my shoulders, I would have taken it home! It felt like a swimming pool of feathers. A tub of cotton balls. A sponge the size of Australia. Well, you get the picture.
The log cabin made me miss Colorado. The cowboys made me miss Oklahoma. The bed made me miss my sleep. The food made me miss my mom. And despite it all, it was the most relaxing I've done since my honeymoon a year ago. I'm so relaxed today that I actually ache.
HAPPY EASTER on another note. He is definitely risen! Lets celebrate!!
Jack Wallace didn't care that his dog Rigsby dug a hole under the fence. In fact, he loved it. Jack would let Rigsby out and without a thought, he knew exactly where he could find him--back in the corner of the yard (hey, it wasn't seen so easily from the glass sliding door)--digging. Jack used to have a black terrier that was yappy and annoying and Rigsby was anything but that. He came when he was asked. His long yellow coat was soft and shiny and he would sit patiently to be washed and dried, a far greater feat than Jack's little terrier could ever have done.
Rigsby would dig and Jack would fill the holes. But something about the holes didn't bother Jack. Rigsby had a curiosity that intrigued Jack. He would find things that Jack didn't know were even in the backyard. He would bring him old pieces of shovel, chewed up dog bones, large stones, and once he even brought him a dying bird that he found on the ground. Rigsby had carried it so gently in his mouth that the bird was not hurt, and Jack was able to nurse it back to health within a week.
They had this relationship, Jack and Rigsby. Jack didn't mind that Rigsby dug holes, and Rigsby didn't mind keep Jack company. Didn't mind encouraging him to run further, didn't mind protecting him from traffic and from the burglar that was trying to break in that warm June night. He didn't mind bringing Jack his newspaper every morning and he never once missed giving Jack a friendly hello when he came home from work. They had a relationship, and even though only one could speak, it never got in the way of their communication.
I guess Rigsby needed a hole to dig and Jack needed a hole to fill. It worked out well.
It's been less than a month and life has not slowed down. The bills still come, the cold air still leaks into the house through an invisible window, and the car still needs to be filled with gas. The dishes still need to be washed, the work keeps piling up, but no matter how fast I finish it, it doesn't matter. Work keeps coming back, like an automatic refillable food dish that dogs who are spoiled enough to shop at Petsmart have.
My classwork tugs on my left arm, demanding my time while my bed pulls me gently to it's soft sheets. "Sleep Michelle," it says. "You haven't visited in two days." Yet still, the classwork has a tougher grip and wins the tug-of-war.
All the hours I spend on worthless work and producing things doesn't matter. No one remembers, and to be honest, although I learn a little, I learn much more from the one person who walks up to me and says, "That was great but what about this error I found?" That's right. All the work, all the time, energy, for a critique? What happened to the thank-yous, the good jobs, the fantastic--"can you show me how you pulled the off"? No, just negativity.
In a world of so much good, the news only shows the bad. In a world of so much love, the people talk about the hate.
So the laundry HAS to be done, so what? That sentence is false. The laundry NEEDS to be done. Even if you do it today, won't the laundry still be there tomorrow? Absolutely.
But there are a few things that do matter.
(and not in that order)
Life is all about getting priorities straight. Once that happens, most people will be retired.