Hooked. Period. The End.

“Playing polo is like trying to play golf during an earthquake.” --Sylvester Stallone

I came to Virginia largely because of one connection and to do primarily two things with my “free time.”  One, fish for smallmouth bass.  Two, to learn how to play polo.

Matt Lattanze is an old friend from the Heathwood Hall days, and I hadn’t seen him in about 20 years until today.  Matt and I reconnected on Facebook (of course) and upon perusing his pictures I realized we were both riding.  Eventually, as I started to formulate my plans as a traveler, the notion to go spend some time playing polo up where he lived was discussed.  I promised Matt not to be too much trouble (if Dr Phil was reading this he would interject to Matt, “How’s that workin’ for ya?”), and I hope I will hold true to that promise!  

Long and short of it was--this  is why I came here.  I asked my wonderful recruiter at DeltaFlex (Will) to put me as close to Middleberg/Upperville, VA as he could.  Will probably did better than he realized.  I am only 35 minutes away from Virginia International Polo Park in Upperville.

So this is how the day went:

First, Matt touches base with me the night before and tells me the barn manager is kind of militant about things (and people) running on-time.  “Oh Lord!” I think to myself... “Does Matt realize this is not possible with me?”

He has no idea how brilliant he sounds when he says, “Just to be safe, why don’t we meet at 9:30.”  (The lesson started at 10:00).  I was only 10 minutes late.  Voila! Someone has figured out how to get me to show up on-time! 

Part of the reason I was 10 minutes late was because the drive out to the barn was one of the most magnificent and beautiful drives I have ever taken. I kept slowing down to look at the scenery.  Everything is so green right now because of all the rain we’ve had. And the mountains, capped this morning with puffy fog clouds, looked like it must look from the inside of a pill bottle before the cotton has been removed. Mile after mile of stone walls unfolded as the hills rolled on.  I wanted so bad to stop and snap a picture of one straight down its line.  The closer I got to Upperville, the more “horsey” it got.  

"How do you hold this thing?”

I found Virginia International Polo Park (or VIP for short) with ease thanks to good directions from Matt the night before.  I had seen pictures on the website, but there are just some things that picture’s can’t capture or do justice.  Mountain scenery is certainly one of them.  It doesn’t matter how good your brand new Camera is.  I did buy one this weekend...a nice Nikon D-series.  More on that later...

So VIP is “full service” barn.  Which means when it was time to start Polo School my horse was handed to me all tack up and ready to go.  I was on a sweet bay mare named 7up.  Trusting she knew more than me, I let her lead the way out the practice field.  First things first... "How do you hold this thing?”

“That would be the mallet.”  Like every sport involving a ball, the object that you use to hit it is designed to hit that specific ball.  The mallet had an angle to it that allowed it to pass over the grass more easily--but only if you were holding it correctly.  Another important bit of information that was passed on in that early conversation was how to hold the mallet when it was not in use.  Like clowns in the circus balance a bunch of hammers on all their fingers, the weight of the mallet had a balance point where it felt almost weightless in your hand (held on the vertical).   

Matt was kind and patient the entire time we were out there.  He followed me around after the initial instruction was given by Juan, who was from Chile, and gave me additional pointers on weight-shift’s in the saddle and how to take a few more swings than the initial one that Juan instructed us on. We discussed some of the “rules of play” as well. It sounded complicated.  Stuff about not crossing the lines of other peoples shots.  Matt demonstrated what a severe foul  looked like (in slow motion)--basically saying you couldn’t use your horse to “T-bone” another horse/rider. He tried his best to make me take it slowly--bless his heart.  But some very nice compliments on me being a fast learner and my love of going fast on a horse coupled to have me taking shots at the trot in no time at all.

I’m thinking to myself, “My grandfather has the biggest smile on his face in heaven right now...”  And, “I was born to play this game.”  

It was like the day I figured out being a physical therapist was the perfect combination of coaching and teaching (which was what I thought I wanted to do up until then--teach and coach in high school).  Playing polo today took one love, riding, and combined it with another, my love of team sports.  

Thank you Matt...I have successfully been injected with the “crack” of horseback riding--Polo.  

I can’t say he didn’t warn me.  He did.

About then, Juan blows the whistle to signify we are going to have a little scrimmage.  I think it took less than 2 minutes for me to get called for a foul for cutting someone off (was a lesser version of the T-boning thing Matt had told me not to do).  Oops!  I apologized for my infraction, happy that I could fall back on ignorance for a second. But when I did I heard my Father’s voice in my head, “Ignorance is no defense for breaking the law,” and I made it a point to really get the rule explained before moving on with further play.  

We played for what seemed like a good little while (45 minutes or so).  I was tired and sweating by the end but thirsty for more.  My pony had been a love.  She did everything I asked of her (and a few things I did not ask of her).  I was amazed at how much the ponies where “aware” of the game and the ball during play.  I would start her on our way one direction (like on a long shot) and she clearly would see the ball and pick up to gallop without my asking for that much speed knowing she (and therefore “we”) would be well-served to beat everyone else to the ball.  She was fast and agile, surefooted and well-behaved.  

I hugged Matt after the lesson and couldn’t contained my enthusiasm after dismounting.  He smiled with the pride that any teacher would have when they see that flame of a new love lit inside someone for the first time.  He was gracious in his compliments of my first effort and landed the “quote of the day” when he said, “You blew my mind but we gotta work on the rules a little bit.”  My family howled in laughter as I shared that one with them.  

The day was just half way done.  Now we were off to the arena for Matt's real match.  I couldn't wait to watch.

(to be continued...)

A New Start.

"The richest man is not he who has the most, but he who needs the least" --unknown

Well, I do believe I have whittled things down to an interesting version of the bare necessities.  I have gas for cooking.  I have power for air conditioning.  No cable (and even the antenna TV doesn’t work that well from my new site--so essentially no TV...except for some weird, obscure Dutch cooking show channel).  I do not have the ability to store more than this  weeks provisions.  I have no mailbox. No garbage pick up.  No home address.  Just me, Duke, Murphy, and Domino.  

I have: two plastic bowls, two plastic plates, one coffee mug, four spoons four forks and four knives...and four tervis tumblers.

I DO have a lot of clothes still...though (and this is not a slight to Columbia) after the realization that attending Columbia weddings was not a condition of my wardrobe anymore I was able to knock my total load way down.  

I feel like the verse from the Lord's prayer “give us this day our daily bread” is very applicable to my current situation.  I cannot store up more than what will feed my immediate needs.  Fran has forced me to realize what I can live without because I cannot carry more than what is absolutely necessary.  And that, as the quote above states, has me feeling very rich in what I have been forced to "let go of" and thankful for what I have with me.  

...Okay, maybe I haven't sacrificed and let go of that much.  Perhaps my saddle, fishing rods, surf boards, 11 different hats and 2 shotguns weren’t “absolutely necessary,” but I did leave a few things at home (especially when it came to shoes). And besides, one must match her hats to her outfit!

So yes, I’m technically “roughing it.”  But in some ways I’m actually in a more civilized setting than I was before.  I have to clean up after Duke--who seems to have forgotten that I once did this with him in Charleston and is mortified by the process.  I am only 0.15 miles from a Walmart. I have access to a killer gym here, and I had nearly forgotten what it was like to workout in a state-of-the-art facility like the one I have access to now.  

"Is this necessary?"

I will attempt a “get to know your neighbors” gathering for Friday evening if it doesn't rain...just drinks and maybe some light appetizers.  

This involves the following of my direct neighbors.  First of all (enjoy the humor here), my direct neighbors to the left are Tom and Bruce.  I met Bruce out walking Duke. He was walking two chocolate labs (one of which looks like a bear and reminds me of my Aunt and Uncle's old lab named Lucy).  When I moved to the new space and realized we would be direct neighbors we started talking about the dogs getting to know each other even better which progressed to, “What do you do for a living?”  

“I’m a traveling physical therapist.”

“I’m an occupational therapist!!!” Bruce says.  “That's my partner, Tom, coming back now.”  

“Your partner....really?  That’s funny...”  It just got funnier and funnier from there.

Later, as I am talking with them, the male chocolate lab starts barking from inside the Motorhome and Bruce knocks on the outside wall and says, “Duke--be quiet!” 

“Really!?!?  Your dog’s name is Duke?”  This is weird now.  

To my direct right are Doug and Sharon.  I haven’t talked to them as much but they are very sweet and nice.  Both appear to be in their early 60’s.

One camper down from them is Robert.  He builds the really big towers that hold power lines way up in the air and almost look like cell phone towers.  His wife and two kids are only 4 hours away.  The long hours with specific projects make it necessary for him to be able to “go to the work,” so he is used to this kind of life (being away from his family a lot).  We are the only two “long-term” campers here under 50 years old and I was thankful to be able to just chill and have a beer with him today after work and workout. 

Shenandoah River

Otherwise, work is great.  My job will be almost identical to what I was doing in Camden.  My preceptor, Bryan (field trainer), is funny and easy going.  I shadowed him this afternoon and will again tomorrow all day.  This area of Virginia is just beautiful.  I will be riding around the Shenandoah River area for work and it really is beautiful and amazing scenery.  I can’t wait to see it in the fall.  

Note to self: Go buy a decent camera.

Courage

“Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.” John Wayne.

In all honesty...I am scared to death of all that is before me.

My Virginia PT license was in slight jeopardy of not being pushed through on Thursday afternoon and the heat, coupled with pushing too hard to get ready to go (not enough sleep), had me in bed for a lot of the day on Thursday.  So getting packed up and leaving by 9:30 am Saturday seemed impossible when faced with the final word from Deltaflex on Friday that my license had cleared through.   I was to be there Monday, or start week after next.  

Well, I had no choice...I couldn’t wait 11 days to start work.  So I called in for reinforcements.  There were only a few people I could call that could clean to my standards, stay up all night, and work tirelessly until I was ready to leave.  Luckily, the first one I tried, in this very uncharacteristic call for help, came to my rescue.   That would be Margaret Ellen.

Through some miracle of fate all of my important belongs got packed up and loaded onto Fran.  There was only a brief three hour nap taken by the crew, and, somehow, we managed to launch Fran as scheduled by 9:30 Saturday am.  

There was just one stop on the way up because I was scared I was going to miss getting to Candy Hill Camp ground by the 7 pm deadline (when the office would close).  I knew I would need help getting set-up and didn’t want to do it for the first time in the dark without assistance!

Pit Stop

Fran and I drove through our first thunderstorm and came out on the other side with a wonderful gift.  A full rainbow was clear across the sky out my right window and I could not help but marvel at the symbolism of such an event.

Rainbow

Rainbow

I made it to Candy Hill before 7 pm (with 15 minutes to spare...) and a wonderful man name Starr helped hook me up.  He showed me the ropes of electric hook-up and as we moved on to the water hookup he said, “Where is your water hose?”  

“Oh my...,”  I said...oops!  Yes I forgot to get that before I left.  

No worries...there was a Walmart 0.10 miles from the entrance to Candy Hill.  

“Ok, what else do I need.”  

After reviewing toilet function, gray and black water (if you don’t know the difference, you don’t want to know), I ran to Wally World to get a drinking hose.  I returned about 9:30 pm with the hose and toilet treatment system chemical. Then I began the daunting task of unpacking.  I unpacked and stowed and rearranged until about 2 am.  I had figured out that for some reason A) my auto leveling system would not work where I was parked and B) that my hot water heater was not working.  

So after a COLD shower the first night I fell into bed exhausted.  Other than the cold shower, I smiled as I drifted off to sleep that first night and I thought, “I’m doing great considering I have no idea what I am doing.”

The next day I organized and unpacked all day.  I read the manual about a 100 times regarding hot water function and the leveling system but to no avail.  I could not figure it out.  Starr came back by to check on me around 4 pm and between the “two of us” figured out that my hot water gas had not been turned on at the source yet (since Fran was so new).  I felt as blonde as I have ever felt.

Home Sweet Home

Off to work Monday and hoping my problem solving skills will improve with some rest.

The Site

Eat. Pray. Love. Work.

Several people have asked me to blog about what I'm getting ready to do...so here goes.  After a year full of opportunities for growth, I am following through with something I truly feel God put on my heart about a year ago to give me a light at the end of the tunnel through some rough times.  The title for the Blog obviously comes from the movie Eat. Pray. Love.   I did not see the movie until several months after I knew I was going to travel.  It seems fitting.  I will be sharing much about these four subjects within this blog.

Let's examine them in reverse order.

One.  I am getting ready to start work as a traveling as a physical therapist.
Two.  I love an adventure and love to travel.  I'm sure much of the subject matter will cover that topic.
Three.  I feel like this is a very spiritual (God lead) trip and I'm sure I will write about prayer and the spiritual aspect of it.  Prayer is an important aspect of my life no matter what I'm doing.
Four.  Well, y'all know this girl like to EAT!  I will certainly document and write about the good eats I encounter along the way.

Duke, my faithful black lab, and two cats (Murphy and Domino) will accompany me.  We leave Saturday morning (the 14th) for my first assignment in Winchester, VA.  I plan to "go West" from there, but know myself too well to go too far on my first assignment.  I will inevitably forget some things that are really important and need to shuttle back this way after getting the hang of Motorhome living.

The Motorhome has been dubbed "Fran."  She will pull "Randy" (my truck) behind her when we travel.  I thought about downsizing to another vehicle.  But this is simply one girl who cannot bear the thought of giving up her truck.

More to come...