The Inside Scoop

We disappeared for a spell. The entries were vague. The words I typed had been scribbled months ago and posted after the blood was dry.
I decided to be a little more present. A little more here if you will.
So I'm assuming it'd be helpful if I kind of gave you the run down of you know, our lives.

THE BIGGEST NEWS

      Kricket is married.

      Whoa! Jump back!

      Yes, I know! It's still settling with me too.

She's like disgustingly in love...they both are. And it. Is. Adorable.
Their little story entails the kinds of things I personally lay on my bed dreaming about.
      Flowers delivered when you're sick. Adorable gestures and lovely compliments. Branding together for hells sake. 
The lovely groom, Will and Kricket are living in Wyoming and I get pictures of them feeding together almost daily and it melts my heart.

There's a little update for you.

G'night

Gussie

Hey, I finally wrote something!

Sometimes I'll sit down to write a post for this forgotten and neglected blog and then click out because I don't know what to say. It feels like I owe you some sort of eye opening content that will result in jaw drop and awe. Then I realize that I have nothing and postpone one more week. Other days I'll start typing and feel like I need to preach something or plop some remarkable and profound information in your lap. I don't have any of that either. All I really have to say is that while I would love to have something to teach you, I am empty handed. I've been learning. That's where I've been - there and about a 100 other places. My mind's been awfully cluttered with love and horses and things of that nature that've sort of meshed together at this point. I'll try to come around a little more often. You know, whenever I figure out what to say!  :)

(If you there is any particulars ya'll would like, or a post suggestion, I'm all ears! Comment below or on Facebook!)

Thanks
Xoxo
Merry CHRISTmas

~Gussie

Fire in our fingertips.

The red and the white of the ambulance lights dancing.
The blood is spilled and yet still gushing.
We stand flirting with death, smiles on our faces and fire in our fingertips.
We are waiting.
Waiting for what the red cross says.
Wondering if he is hospital bound.
Wondering if he can see or think or breathe.
And still we are all sitting on the very animals that can so easily inflict death, watching the ambulance lights dance with prayers on our lips and fire in our fingertips.

~gussielou

Good Opportunities!

Gussie here!

Lately I've been a busy little bee and quite honestly a sidetracked soul!

I've been on so many fun adventures! (which yes, I went to the first football game that I've been to in 5 years. But I only went for 3 minutes... ok again with the sidetracked thing)  Anyhow! I have had a great opportunity plopped into my lap!

I've been able to go ride with a cutting horse trainer a couple of times and hopefully more to come! I'm super stoked about getting to learn so many new things and improving my horsemanship! Really all I can say is that there is definitely always something you don't know and more to learn! Take advantage of all of life's great opportunities!

Luvs, Gussie

I Want

I want to feel better.
I want my eyes to only ache because there is dust in them.
I want to cough on branding smoke instead of exhaust fumes.
I want to see the land sprawled out and painted like a canvas map for my horse's hooves to roam.
I want to smell horse sweat and feel beads of it running down my face.
I miss seeing hooves slinging dirt across acres after a renegade heifer.
I haven't forgotten the feeling of turning a cow on the fence.
I haven't forgotten the pride which is in long manes and mustache knotted tails.
I want sage brush to buff against my legs and I want the sun to burn hot on my chaps.
I want wooden heeled boots puffing at the dusty desert's heart.
I want spring water on my lips and saddle pads that know nothing of being dry.
I want my hands to be cracked and bruised.
I want to hear a diesel engine growl into the morning darkness and I want to hear your voice in the old wooden tack shed.
I want to hold your callused hand.
I would cry your name into the desert if you weren't here.
I want to know better the minds of horses.
I want the tops of my hands to be red and my muscles aching.
I want my spurs to be rusted and know the hides of many horses.
I want my favorite color to be spring.
I want my horn wrap to be glassed over and blue.
I want my ropes to be melted and frayed and my boots and saddle to tell more stories than my lips.
I want the brim of my hat to shade my green eyes and I want that palm leaf almost worn through.
I want to know the country side, to know every canyon and every spring.
I want to doctor calves in the moonlight.
I want to become alike my role model.
I want the pages of my bible to look like they've been through hell.
I want to see my sister's braid dangling by her cantle bind.
I want my hands to have shaped words upon paper.
I want my heart to know God better.
I want to thrive in this heaven on earth.
I want to watch it play out through the tall desert grass fresh dewed by midnight's rain.

~Gussie

Fairytales

If I knew how I felt, I'd tell you. I really would;
But the music is too loud and my thought process is blurry.
Blurry all but Jesus and horses.
That's what stands at the end of my tunnel vision.
The sides are littered with handsome smiles and cowboys and ropes, you and the books I read last month.
They just fade in and out of perspective;
one minute in a state of perfection, the next a repetition of last night's terrors.
It's agonizing, the way it all whirls around like the hurricane that it is.
At the same instance, it has a sense of allure and charm, kind of like you.
The curtain falls each night like the end of a scene when the actors drop their masks and their faces beheld.
Acting starts in strife for perfection and ends in habit.
You become your mind's best self meanwhile destroying the originality and loveliness of who you genuinely are.
Truth be known, I've been acting for a while and I'm trying to learn how to act like me again.
Stop acting, I beg you.
Your dreams that lie each night on the dark side of your eyelids, listen to them. They are the prettiest things.
Now do you see?
It's obvious that if I knew how I felt, I'd tell you, I really would, but I can't even keep my nightmares and fairytales straight.

photo cred: google

Fire

I've grown accustomed to fire.
I'm even learning to breathe it.
If I want to win I'll have to drink it in like life water.
My inner turmoil will have to be drowned by dust and arena lights.
My doubts and fears will shutter at the sound of my war cries.
Grit will have to well up in the pit of my stomach and overflow out my throat.
I'll have to feel every inch of my body burning, and I'll love it.
I'll live for it.
I'm going to have to learn that focus is a state of mind not a mood; intensity is a choice not an emotion.
My demons will be shrieking their giddy laughter and my angels will be flailing to save me.
That's how I want it.
That's how it's going to be.
Everything I've longed for is slamming into my lap and I will fight for it.
I'm not letting go.
Not for a second.
So I'll douse myself in fire and let it wash over me and I'll run through it like a child in the rain.
I want to be baptized in it.
I'm looking for it and praying for it.
It's coming.
And I'm scared for you because my fire is burning,
and I'm going to pitch gasoline on it and let it burn.

~Gussie