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But the dog really did eat my homework, teacher!
My younger brother and I spent most of our childhood objecting to each others’ existence. This played out as a drawn-out war of destruction: he cut off my Barbie doll’s hair; I smashed his G.I. Joes to pieces. I cut holes in all his toy parachutes; he fed my book to the dog.
That is how the dog learned paper tasted good.
And that is how, not long after, I learned that liars ruin life for the rest of us. The dog, having discovered that paper was good, decided to see if notebooks were also good. To her delight, they were. To my dismay, not only did I get a zero on my homework assignment, but I also got in trouble for lying to the teacher because “dogs don’t really eat homework.”
At the time, I didn’t understand the larger lessons in play here. What I did understand, with the clarity that only children have, is that somehow—and I hadn’t figured out the “how” yet, but I knew without a doubt somehow—it was my brother’s fault that I was in trouble. I used his socks to try to catch minnows in the creek, and then dumped the soggy, stinky socks back in his closet.
I am surprised, honestly, that my parents didn’t kill us both.
I am off the horse market.
A couple weeks ago, I had called a seller about a cute-looking horse. He was priced very low, and after talking with her I was comfortable with the reasons for that. She sent me a video link, and that weekend I decided I’d go try the horse.
The day I was going to call her, my mother called with some family news. Just that quickly, instead of buying a horse this summer, I’m buying two or three plane tickets. I could, possibly, still buy a horse, but my heart’s not in it right now. I have no reservations or regrets about making this decision; when things settle down again, I’ll pop back into the market as suddenly as I dropped out. It is not a big deal; it is life, it is family. It’s not even my little brother’s fault, although wouldn’t that be a great narrative twist?
I’ll admit that I felt something like a heel when I emailed the seller. Just days before, I’d been saying how great he sounded for my needs. Now I was off the market.
The seller probably thinks I’m a flake. I’m sure my “I’m off the market” email was as believable to her as “the dog ate my homework” was to my teacher. If you read forums for five minutes, though, you quickly realize that buyers just can’t win no matter what we do. If you don’t contact the seller, you’re an ingrate. If you do contact them, you’re either lying or you’re too clueless to recognize a good horse when you see it.
In their defense, sellers can’t win, either. They don’t put enough information in their ads; if they do put information in their ads, the information can’t possibly be true. On paper, the odds of a horse actually being sold are about the same as my brother and I both making it to adulthood—and yet we did, and horses do get sold. It’s a good thing life doesn’t read the internet.
And, fortunately for me, I have learned a thing or two since the days when I got chalkdust in my hair from banging out erasers after school. I can’t do anything about what other buyers do or don’t do, or what sellers do or don’t believe. We can only do the best that we can do, and hope for things to work out better.
Things generally do work out, in my experience. I mean, I am signing over all my frequent flier miles to the brother who once nearly drowned me. If that’s not a made-for-Hallmark ending, I don’t know what is.
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Comments
I so sorry for the crisis, and hope it has a positive outcome.
I hesitatingly say I am glad you wrote about it (how appropriate is it to say you liked a piece with real anxiety in it?), you are an excellent writer, and had me laughing, identifying, and wanting to read your book. Which I hope will be out soon. Best wishes to you.
Jane
Thanks, both of you. The news wasn’t entirely unexpected, it’s just that some things that were going to happen over the next year or two are all happening this summer. And our family’s pretty close; it’s important to me that I be there. Watch me come home from one of these trips with a horse—wouldn’t that be a riot?
Grey Horse Matters, you’re right—the right one will pop up. Maybe did pop up last weekend. My trainer pointed out a cute gelding during my lesson. He’s green, but seems to have a good mind. I do like a good mind on a horse…
Jane, I’ll make a deal with you—you publish your book, I’ll publish mine, and we can trade copies and be the president of each others’ fan clubs.
On Jun 12, 2009, grey horse matters said:
I’m sorry to hear that there is a crisis in your family and hope it will resolve itself soon.
Funny story about the dog eating your homework, even it’s true (which I’m sure it is) I never used that one.
Although you’re off the horse market for now, I’m sure when the time is right that there is a special horse just waiting for you out there.
Good luck with everything.