Flying Change Equine Therapy

02/01/2026

Grief comes in waves, but so does God’s presence. On the days the water feels calm, give thanks. On the days it feels overwhelming, hold on to this truth: you are not alone, and you are not sinking. God is teaching your heart how to breathe, how to trust, and how to keep moving forward... even when the shore feels far away. 🙌
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

01/31/2026

Anyone local have a recliner that I can borrow for a month? The breast cancer navigator said I won't be able to push myself up in bed for a while and that many patients find a recliner the most comfortable way to sleep.

01/30/2026

The mass protests and deaths of two people in Minnesota are pushing Democratic lawmakers in Georgia to try to curtail immigration enforcement.

Read how at the link in the comments.

01/30/2026

Excellent colic weather. Please drink responsibly.

01/28/2026

I made today a quiet day.

Letting the results of the preliminary genetic testing settle in feels like the first time I ever went to the beach.

I'm not sure how old I was. 8? Maybe 9?

Nana immediately took me into the ocean. She was holding my hand but a big wave came and knocked me down and she lost me. I got sucked into the wave and rolled over and over. The ocean eventually spat me out; coughing up sea water, unable to figure out which way was up, and with sand in unmentionable places.

Nana beamed her Princess Di smile and referred to my experience as "getting boiled." She explained that this sometimes happens. I felt strongly that this was a conversation that should have been held at an earlier date and time. Say, anywhere in the 12 hour car ride from Atlanta to Ocean City.

Instead, she had read Little Women aloud for the duration and occasionally gone to the matresses with a huge paper map that refused to properly fold to its original position.

Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy had also failed to teach me about getting boiled. I felt especially betrayed by my favorite of the March sisters - Jo. She seemed the type to hook a girl up. She was in the know.

I haven't seen the ocean in years now. I wonder if I will see it again.

It's unusually cold here for Georgia. This morning Teddy was laying in the grass, sunbathing, and I cuddled him and his pasture mates for a while. We've been together for all of his life and half of mine.

I remind myself that I can't die. I can't leave him, or any of them, to fate.

I've taken to spending time with each horse in the morning. It's so easy to feel rushed and just try to get everything done and be efficient.

I have always taken care of their needs but I realize at some point, I got busy and didn't spend time with them one on one the way I used to. Sitting in the sun, cuddling Teddy was wonderful.

One of the blessings of this diagnosis is that it shocks you into the reality that you don't know how much time you have left.

Conceptually, this is always true.

But it's one of the things we don't think about until a diagnosis or a trauma or a loss knocks at the door.

I worked until around 2:00. Came home to find Doc at the farmhouse with a bag of Emotional Support Eggrolls.

I've gained four pounds since the diagnosis. I'm beginning to form a theory about how that has happened.

But that's all fat that can be made into new b***s, I tell myself, so it works out, in a lemons-into-lemonade, eggrolls-into-cleavage kind of way.

"Y'know, most of my friends know I hate unexpected visitors and schedule with me." I say.

"And if I had asked you if you wanted company, your reply would have been...."

"No."

"It's almost like I've known you since 1993."

He is not wrong. In the decades of having Penny as my Other Mother, if anything bad was happening she would ask if I had someone with me. I always thought it was sort of absurd. What was someone else going to do? What purpose does having someone there fulfill?

Be it the effect of being an only child, being raised by an alcoholic, going to boarding school at the age of ten, or having just a touch of the Avoidant Attachment, we'll probably never know.

"I have plans with my bathtub." I announce.

"I've seen you eat a Taco Supreme with one hand while starting a stick shift on a hill with the other. I fully know you can eat an eggroll in the bathtub."

"Stop. I'm having flashbacks. That intersection on Atlanta Highway was the worst."

He runs me a bubble bath and I slip in. There's nothing sexual or romantic. We're like siblings.

There was that one drunken makeout in college when I was on the rebound and he was trying hard to stay in the closet.

He has since commented "Your breasts were fantastic. They just weren't conversion therapy."

Which doesn't bother me because that was never their goal. They were young and optimistic and had higher aspirations than that back then. Their whole life was ahead of them.

I don't have the full genetic test results back. But what we know so far about The Ladies is not good.

In additional to cancer, I have biopsy-confirmed Atypical Lobular Hyperplasia and the PALB2 genetic mutation.

According to the genetic counselor, the average woman has a lifetime risk of having breast cancer of around 13%.

Mine is 68%.

And the ALH presents a high risk that I will have a new breast cancer in the other breast within 5 years.

She also said I have higher risk of ovarian cancer and referred me to a gynecological oncologist to discuss a hysterectomy in addition to the double mastectomy.

The full results should come back within the next week and confirm whether I have Lynch Syndrome and what other cancers my genes make me high risk for.

There are not enough Emotional Support Eggrolls.

01/23/2026

Oh the Outrage of the Opera Hound, seen here righteously protesting the presence of horses on this (checks notes) horse farm.

01/23/2026

Weekend Winter Weather Alert

01/10/2026

I write to you now from a bed of frozen Toaster Strudels.

A friend gave them to me many months ago because she didn't like them.

I immediately ate all the icing packets.

Which, if we're honest - and we should be because we're friends - is the only reason for buying Toaster Strudels.

The pastry itself has lingered in my freezer all this time because I refuse to eat them when they are in the n**e.

At the same time, I refuse to throw them away.

We were at an impasse - Strudel and I.

Until today.

I have again done the thing where I've either broken a rib or disconnected it from the cartilage that holds it in place.

There's a distinct clicking or popping sensation when I change positions.

During the day it's painful but manageable.

But I'm a side sleeper, so night is excruciating.

All night I'm either lying on it or on my other side and gravity is pulling on it.

Smitty and the Farmhouse Cats readjust during the night, lay up against me and I shriek with pain.

I need 427 pillows, the inability to cough or sneeze, George Clooney to hold me, and zero humor.

From anyone.
Ever.

A strong fart can make me have a sudden fit of the vapors and have to lay down.

And thus, I find myself lying on a bed of frozen Toaster Strudel.

Gen X raised ourselves.
We are invisible because we are independent and ingenious.

There's no coming back from the teased bangs. You can't defend that.

But we are survivors.

There was an actual public service announcement every night to remind our parents that they had children.

"It's 10 pm. Do you know where your children are?"

And mostly they didn't.

In spite of it all, here we are.

If you're looking for a way to repurpose things we loved in the 80s -

I submit to you,

Toaster Strudel as cold therapy.

01/09/2026

01/08/2026

Accurate.

If you find an equestrian on their side this winter, please turn them the right way up and power them with tea.
No, seriously. This is not a joke. This is a health and safety advisory.

Winter equestrians are a fragile species. We can usually be found frozen in gateways, wedged against stable doors, or lying horizontally in a muddy field questioning our life choices. If discovered, do not panic. Simply follow the steps below.

First, check for signs of life.
Are they muttering about mud, frozen taps, or why they didn’t take up knitting? Good. They’re still with us.

Next, carefully rotate them upright. Winter riders tend to tip over due to excess layers, stiff joints, and boots filled with mud that now weigh approximately the same as a small car. Use correct lifting technique. Bend your knees. Protect your back. This person has already ruined theirs.

Once upright, immediately administer tea.
Not lukewarm tea. Not herbal nonsense. Proper, builders’, strong-enough-to-stand-a-spoon-up tea. Bonus points if it’s delivered in a battered yard mug that smells faintly of hay and regret.

Do not ask how they are.
They will say “fine” while their eye twitches and their soul quietly leaves their body.
Expect them to be wearing:
• Seven layers, none of which are actually warm
• Gloves that are somehow both soaking wet and frozen solid
• An expression of pure regret

They may appear grumpy. This is normal. Winter equestrians have been up since dawn, defrosting buckets with kettles, chipping ice like they’re auditioning for a mining job, and explaining to non-horse people that no, the horse cannot “just stay inside today”.
They are tired.
They are cold.
They smell faintly of horse and despair.

Under no circumstances should you suggest:
• “At least it’s not raining”
• “You chose this life”
• “Horses are just pets”

If the equestrian starts laughing for no reason, crying into their tea, or talking about selling everything and moving to Spain, this is also normal. Continue tea application until coherence returns.

Once revived, they will stand up, pull their hat down, sigh deeply, and go straight back out into the cold to do it all again. Because despite everything — the mud, the ice, the numb toes, and the emotional damage — they love it.

And if you find them on their side again tomorrow?
Turn right ways up.
Apply tea.
Repeat until spring. ☕🐴