George once told me that he is economical with his words.
This came from the days he was doing business and didn’t have time to fool
around with elaborate sentences.
“I had only 16 hours in a day.”
Like last time, I struggle to not let his brusque mannerisms
hurt my feelings. Maria and the horses acted as a buffer of sorts, but Maria is
in Australia and none of the horses are in training. I’ve had to hold back
tears several times already, and I’ve only been here for 10 days. I tell
myself, “Aimee, this is Business George. Business George is very different from
Friend George, and you don’t have to take anything Business George says
personally. You just do it.”
But the times when George does mince with words stand out. Loud and clear. Yesterday was a long day, full of bringing in
horses, checking on horses, cleaning up after horses, holding horses, loading
horses, etc. I felt like I did a fairly good job helping out in all the chaos
of horses. I stayed in bed much later than I’d like because I knew that George
had arrived home from the clinic very late and I didn’t want to disturb him
with my typing on the computer or my cooking of extra blood sausage on the
stove. I waited until I heard him release Kiki from his bedroom and the sound
of his eggs frying on the stove before I allowed myself to tiptoe downstairs.
“George! You are alive!” I greeted him.
“You can’t kill a bad sink,” he returned, then “Aimee, you
vere here two years ago?”
“About a year and a half ago, yes.”
“And you rode vhen you vere here last?”
“Yes, This One and Lithai were in training.”
“And did you not load zhem into za trailer?”
“Yes, I did load them into the trailer.”
“Zhen vhy did you not tie Zhis One vhen you loaded her yesterday?”
“You told me to put the lead rope on the floor. In the spare tire.”
“Ja, but zhere are za ropes hangink from za sides. It is
needed for stability. It is a good sink I vas suspicious of zat. I stopped at
za first town and checked.”
“I’m sorry, George,” I continued cleaning the kitchen, not
wanting to fight. “I forget some things. It’s been a long time.”
After dining on extra blood sausage, I went upstairs to my
room, angry and hurt. Volunteering with a stranger and helping out a friend are
very different things. One has different expectations and slights become more
personal. I’m feeling much more sensitive and vulnerable to George, now that
we’ve been writing for a year and a half. I had wanted to enter the kitchen and
hear a, “Sank you for all za help yesterday. Za foal vill be okay.”
Instead, I got a good many words outlining how I should have
known to tie This One to the trailer with the ropes on the sides.
I’ve made the decision to not post my blogs until after I’ve
left a placement. George read my last series of posts and has was rather taken
aback.
“Aimee, I did not know zhat you did not like Leon. I haf
alvays sought he vas a good dog. Vhy do you not like Leon?”
“He is a good dog. He’s just too pushy for me. I like Tubby
more.”
“He is only tryink to show his regards for you. He’s a
goodhearted dog.”
“He is. Just too pushy for me.”
“Zhen vhat do you sink of Kiki?” he asked as Kiki jumped up
and down against my leg, desperately trying to lick/nibble my fingers.
“I can move Kiki. I cannot move Leon.”
“Not visout hurtink yourself, no.”
Tubby and Kiki are both fond of sitting behind people in
chairs. Tubby curls quietly behind their backs (startlingly similar to what I
do with good friends and lovers), and Kiki braces herself against them and
violently scratches (this is not what I did with good friends and lovers).
I enter the kitchen in the morning, and they watch my feet.
I make my cup of coffee, and they watch the cup. I approach the table, and they
analyze my movements, trying to decipher which chair I will choose so that they
can jump up first against the back first. Sometimes Kiki gets it right and
sometimes Tubby.
I generally move to sit with Tubby.
George read my blog post about Kiki scratching, so whenever
Kiki got it right and I've decided to humor her, George fondles her ears and says,
“Kiki, do not scratch! I read in Aimee’s blog zhat she does not like it vhen you
scratch.”
So. I’ll most likely be publishing this post from Roisin’s.
And I’ll post about my stay at Roisin’s when I’m with Cathal. And I’ll post
Cathal’s when with Kim. And so on.
George emerged from his room this morning, scratching his bald head.
"I haf been sinking about you, and haf decided zhat I cannot
be harsh vis you. You are sometimes 10 percent here. Sometimes 50. Never a
hundred percent here. You are lost in your poet’s land, sinkink about I don’t
know vhat."
"Have you ever had the sensation that you were outside your
body and looking down at it?" I replied, somewhat caught off guard.
"Yes. Sometimes vhen I am fery ill, yes."
"I’ve always been a dreamer, George – but it got worse after
my bad relationship. After I found a way to take my mind outside of my body."
"It is a kind of suicide," George uttered gravely.
"That’s one reason I love yoga so much. Yoga stresses unity."
"Vhat?"
"Unity. The binding together of mind, breath, and body. When
I practice yoga, I am a hundred percent here. That's one reason I love travel. I have to be here. Gardening, acting, and painting all force me to be here in the same way. I have to use these activities to ground myself in the now. Else I'd be ten percent here all the time. If that."
Preconceptions:
NONE. I can't get out. Although I've seen a fair amount of wellingtons, as of late.
Challenges:
Picture of the European Robin! Challenge two for Jackson has been completed!
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