My blog, my blog

Oh how I've missed my blog. I love my blog. I get a lot of comfort from my blog. I like thinking about my blog. I've wondered today what do I have to blog about.

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Cecilio died. No one could believe it. He was only 55 and it was not expected. He was only four years older than I. Cecilio worked for the city and he had horses and chickens and ducks and turkeys and lambs and colts and a goat. He delivered hay. It was his work after work. It was his own business. He was a good man and I liked him very much. He always shook my hand and sometimes hugged me too. He was handsome to my eyes. He had 12 siblings. To his sister, he donated one of his kidneys. She passed on some years ago. Now he is gone too. I think he's the second of all the children to go. I went by his house today and looked at the horses and animals and wept. The place is so empty. For years he lived there and never, never locked the front door. It would be wide open. Today, closed and locked.

He always said, "Don't ever be afraid of anyone or any thing." I cry for his grandson because Cecilio was very dedicated to him. He's only eight. Tragic. My heart hurts for Leah. She's all alone now and she inherited nothing. I had been meaning to ask her why they weren't married. It's her life, their life, and I just hadn't worked up the nerve but she probably wouldn't mind at all if I asked.

They were at the hospital and Cecilio was getting, I think, a heart procedure. I don't have all the details. There are heart problems in the family but none had before been detected in Cecilio. He told Leah he was thirsty. She said, "I can't give you any water because you're having surgery." He grabbed her and said, "Leah! I love you!" She said, "I love you too." Then he said, "I'm going to die." She said, "No you're not." And he died. How did he know so surely? What did he feel? How did he know?

I think of him when I'm outside with Bella and he never drives by the gravel road anymore and never waves. I waved to him a couple weeks before he passed on. I tried to keep Bella always well groomed so he would see her looking good when he drove by and I hoped he would tell Leah so. We wanted to have Leah and he over for dinner because they've both been so generous with their time with our son. Leah looks worn and she's broken. She goes to work still. I don't know how she does, but she does. She became a new grandmother a week after Cecilio died.

Our sweet Winston is gone. Son entered him in the fair and we knew he would be sold. Son went to give him a kiss and he was gone. The packers picked him up at about 1:00pm and we thought it would be after 3:00pm. I miss that pig. He was a wonderful pig. The saddest thing is that his last week, his ending time on earth, had to be so unpleasant. He was used to being loved by a boy and walked and having free run of the acre here. At the fair he was in a pen and could only go on a short walk. He was the most popular pig and our son's friends gathered round his pen and admired him and petted him. But he ate less every day. It's a sorry thing being city people in 4-H and loving a farm animal. Why did God make pigs so sweet and cute. But it is ranch life. Pigs don't contemplate death as we do. And he had a terrific life while he was here. He was a blessed pig. We were blessed to have him. Son has learned a lot about raising an animal. It's been good for him. Next April he's getting a piglet to do it all over again. The new piglet will have a good life here too.

In New Mexico there are no Hormel kind of places. We didn't want him to go to a slaughter house. He didn't. Someone local bought him. They'll fatten him up on their property for awhile then he'll be slaughtered. He won't be with a thousand pigs where they might have bad people abuse him. It'll be quick. They will shoot him. I had to know. I had to ask. All these ranch people at the fair, used to the ranch life. And here's me in my sunglasses, tears streaming down my cheeks because of a 275 pound hog.

Zumba has improved tremendously. I've made a fresh start. I quit the gym. I suppose they don't think much of me. I called Tuesday and said I cannot teach on Wednesday night and I cannot teach anymore ever. I thought my back was really messed up. I had lower back pain and it radiated down my left leg. I was so worried. They did a fine job telling everyone I quit. I quit my Zumba membership and paid a penalty. Thought I was toast. Yet I felt improved by Saturday. . . and so I went to the studio in case someone might show up but I was the only one there. It was okay. I danced the hour with myself and felt lost and blue.

Maybe the class grew too fast. I was a nervous wreck. I've since realized that perfection in Zumba is overrated. So I teach a 60 minute class and make a few mis-steps for 15 seconds. Goodness sakes. Well, I've learned to smile big about it and move on.

Also, I realize now that I didn't feel like a part of the gym. I heard that they were even turning people away because the room was filled. No one from the gym ever told me. I heard it from a friend of a friend after I quit. I realize now they gave me photo copies of the liability waivers and the sign-in sheet and kept originals themselves. That's not right. I am glad I left. Now, instead of $10 for a class I earn my own money. I've earned as much as $70 at a time now and after I advertise next week I expect the class to grow. I need it. I'm in debt with starting up the Zumba. I've signed up for the Basic 2 class on October 23rd! Yippee!

After I taught my Thursday night class I felt well and I knew I was over the hump. My husband said I'm my own worst enemy. I am, I know it. I tortured myself additionally thinking why am I doing this. Why can't I stop (the stomach ache and sleeplessness). I'm supposed to be transformed by the Word of God and here I sit, the same, the same. The same as I've always been. Even when I worked the previous Saturday at the studio and made a bit of money - it meant nothing. All the kindness and nice words from the students who loved the class lifted my spirit not one whit. Odd that you can attain a dream and it feels like emptiness. Probably I think it was perimenopause. It was my natural nervousness. Fear of the unknown. Fear of people not liking my class. Fear of having to face the gym owner and ask for a raise and not being happy with the mister room they added. Worrying about forgetting my routine in front of everyone. Fear about keeping proper business records. Of making sure people fill out the waiver. It's all alotta fear.

I added two new routines and I think everyone likes them. One is "Let Me Think About It" which is choreographed by the Hickory Girls and one is a calypso from Zumba. Quite fun! I'm in the best shape evah! The other night Leslie went home after class drenched with sweat and told everyone that Liliana whipped her. Haha! Funny grrrrl. I have young women in my class and they leave sweaty and tired. One girl handed me a damp $10 bill and I looked perplexed and she told me it was from her back pocket and her butt (her word) was all sweaty. Haha! It is good to be feeling better. Like my dad said, it's supposed to be fun. I step in the bathroom to comb my hair and see my face in the mirror or my heart beats fast for a minute because a worry breaks into my mind and I run Cecilio's words over in my mind to remind myself, "Don't ever be afraid of anyone or any thing."