Okay backtrack to before the horse stealing before we start this story.
Growing up, my best friend was a boy named Ben. Benjamin, if he was being annoying, to which he’d retaliate with Keejamin, which is not and never has been my full name.
Ben lived next door to my grandparents, and we were born within a few weeks of each other and were best friends pretty much since the time he crawled under the fence into Nanny’s backyard and helped me make mudpies (not that either of us actually remember that, seeing as we were two, but no one was particularly happy with the unrecognizably muddy toddlers).
Anyway, Ben would catch our car coming down the road and have hopped the back fence and made it through Nanny’s house to open the front door for us before Nanny or Grandad had even noticed we’d pulled into the driveway. We had fake weddings with my little sister as the flower girl / priest. We threw water balloons at his older sisters and their friends.
And one time we stole a horse.
So Nanny’s and Ben’s backyards attached to a field. There was a fence in between, and three or four horses that lived in the field. They were nice horses and didn’t even bat an eye when a couple of small children would hop the fence and run around in their field, and they liked us because we’d feed them apples and carrots.
Since they liked us so much, we decided to steal one and keep it for ourselves.
Why would two seven year olds decide to steal a horse, you ask? The answer was simple
We were bored.
(Also Ben’s sister and her friends wouldn’t let us into the treefort to play pirates so technically it’s their fault we stole a horse.)
Why did we think we were physically capable of stealing a horse and getting away with it? There were a couple reasons behind that:
I was reading a lot of detective and spy books and figured I knew enough to pull it off
Ben just liked to steal stuff
Ben was also a really good liar
Nobody ever expected sweet little Kee with her pink dresses and pigtails to do anything bad
If we did get caught, we could always blame it on a sister
So we started planning. It was a pretty good plan for a couple of seven year olds. We spent two or three months on it before we actually tried to steal it, and had a pretty solid heist going, including
Around the clock surveillance, courtesy of Ben and his night vision goggles he’d gotten for Christmas, through which we documented exactly when the horses were in the field and when their owners came out
Multiple tests to figure out which horse was the slowest, the easiest to lure with apples and carrots, and which was the easiest to put a Barbie jump rope harness on, among other tests, so we could pick the best horse for the heist
Finding the best path out of the field and cutting the wire fence open inconspicuously enough so no one would notice but we’d be able to get the horse out
Researching horse care and heist stuff at the elementary school library
because it was 2004 and neither of us had internet
we did a project on spy work at the time too to provide an aliby for if the police somehow decided that the seven year olds should be the ones being questioned about the missing horse
the grade two teacher thought our project was really well researched and that we seemed really into the topic and we got a really good grade on it
Watching James Bond a lot
Avoiding talking about it in front of my sister because Sam was the ultimate tattle tale
Hiding all our plans (which were written in my glitter gel pens on pink paper) in the hollow book I got Ben for his birthday so no one could find them
(that’s all I can remember at the moment, but I know there were other parts of the plan)
So the time finally came for the heist. We’d picked out victim and had everything ready to go and had to be back by noon cause Nanny was making grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
We would get the horse, get it out, and it would live in a secret clearing in the forest by the beach until the police stopped looking for it and then it would live in Ben’s treefort.
So we went out, dressed in black like all the good spies and armed with a bag of apples and carrots and a jump rope.
I fed the horse while Ben got the jump rope situated because he was taller, and then we lead it down to the back of the field and through the cut fence and into the forest.
We got about halfway to the secret clearing when my Cabbage Patch Kids digital watch alarm went off to tell us we had fifteen minutes until Nanny was expecting us for lunch.
Fifteen minutes was not long enough to get to the secret clearing and get the horse situated and get back for grilled cheese. And Nanny would ask questions, because Ben was definitely the type to be late to things, but I was the kid who taught herself to read analog clocks in kindergarten and would point out to the teacher that the clock says it’s 10:06 and gym is supposed to start at 10:05 so why are we still in the classroom?
(as a side note, the times on the day’s schedule only lasted about a week into each school year before I’d annoyed the teacher so much she took them down)
So we hashed it out and decided we’d take the horse back and re-steal it after lunch.
We got it back it back into the field with no problems, closed the fence up, removed the jump rope, and were inside the house as the clock struck noon for our grilled cheese sandwiches.
(”What have you two been up to today? I haven’t seen you all morning.” “Oh, we’re just playing spies.” “Sounds lovely.”)
Lunch ended and we ran back to the back door eager to restart our heist and–
–it was pouring.
The complete opposite of the weather needed for a good heist. Rain meant mud and mud meant footprints and footprints meant the police could find out it was us who stole the horse.
So we postponed it to the next weekend and went and went out to have a mud fight instead.
My friend Sarah’s horse (Tiny rural town. Most people had horses or sheep or other large animals and didn’t have to resort to stealing them) had had a baby over the weekend and she’d printed off pictures to show everybody.
“But Mommy says we’re gonna sell him cause horses cost a lot of money to feed and we’ve already got three.”
That brought my attention away from the pictures of the cute baby horse, because it didn’t make sense. According to my research, horses ate hay and carrots and apples. None of that was expensive, right?
“How much does it cost?” I asked, and Sarah shrugged.
“Mommy says each of them costs a couple hundred dollars every month.”
Now, this was a problem, so I had to go find my partner in crime.
Ben was with some of the other boys, doing whatever seven year old boys did.
“Ben, we have a problem. Code red.”
(That was our super top secret spy code in case we needed to talk about the heist. Nobody would be able to figure it out.)
So we went somewhere slightly private and I told him how much Sarah said it costs to feed a horse.
“I only have eight dollars and twelve cents,” I told him. “And I don’t get an allowance, so I won’t get more money till my birthday.”
“I need my allowance to buy candy,” he said, and we stood there for a while, trying to figure out how we could make this work.
Eventually, it was decided that we wouldn’t be able to afford to own a horse unless we waited until after my birthday and Ben never ate candy again, and neither of us were good with that plan, so the Great Horse Heist of 2004 came to an end.
We burnt the plans that weekend in Ben’s backyard and managed to blame the pile of ashes on one of his sisters.
So yeah. That is the story of the time I stole a horse for about twenty minutes.
Nobody besides me and Ben (and now all of you) know that this actually went down, because somehow we managed to hide this deranged plan from absolutely everybody and then we were too scared they’d send us to jail if we told anyone and then I kind of forgot about it until earlier today when my friends were talking about how I was probably the only one of us who’d get into heaven and had I ever quote unquote sinned before? (Answer: yes, because I stole a horse, so I’m probably not getting into heaven either)
The moral of this story is that, had Ben not decided I had cooties the next year and that that meant we couldn’t be friends anymore, we would probably be criminal masterminds by now.
“She told me she dreamt she had died. And she came back as a ghost on Hollywood Boulevard. She’s walking along as a ghost, and no one remembers her. When she died, that was the first thing I thought of, because you never saw such an outpouring of love, almost obsession. I thought, she would be so proud.” - Candy Moore
You know the deal ! Give this lovely post a heart and you’re signing yourself up to eternal servitude to me. I can send you memes, write you random starters, talk to you in ims, make you something if I feel so obliged, whatever the hell else this lets me do. Also, you get my love !
Earlier today, I was reminded of a convo I had with another friend/ client about vessels and bindings and it reminded me that I should make a post about it.
I forgot where I heard it but, bindings are just a means of locating where home is, in a sense. Binding to your spirit is the same as binding to a vessel. It’s not a cage or prison, but just a means to find where you or home is. Binding to spirit makes the connection stronger but some people have a hard time and prefer the physical vessel to hold during meditation and things like that. so it’s not a matter of how many you can have bound to you because, from my experience, it seems endless, but more a choice of how you want things to be done with your keep.
Now, I speak from experience as I’m very liberal with the movements of my keep. I don’t feel the need to tell them “stay home or else” because, as part of your spirit family, they have functions to perform.
For example, I always ask them to watch over my parents. They’re retired and walk all over the place unless they need the car for something or have to take the bus. I’d like to think that, not only are they watching over my parents, they’re watching over other people that could use their protection. So besides watching the house and my parents, there’s a library they can visit and a park. I don’t want them to feel bored or useless so they have every right to explore and discover and learn about the people in the area. Maybe even help other spirits move on.
So, while there’s a lot that can be done while you, as keeper, are home, there’s just as much they can do when you’re not and it’s like a learning experience for both of us. Trust is a two-way street and being able to have faith in them and treating them as we would like to be treated is something I feel is very important when bonding with your spirit family.
man i should have posted this earlier but basically if anyone is going to the chicago concert and wanted to swap merch lemme know! i’ve listed what i have, whats been claimed, and what im looking for. just shoot me a message if you’re interested!
Have: Al1: Seungkwan postcard (claimed) Mingyu postcard (claimed) Mingyu postcard Joshua photocard Vernon poster Seungcheol poster (claimed) Seungcheol CD (claimed) Jeonghan CD Joshua CD (claimed)
Want (in general anything Hoshi or DK, may settle for Jun/Woozi/Minghao/Chan): AL1: Hoshi/DK posters, Hoshi/DK photocards (Hoshi version All, DK version AL1 preferred), Jun/Hoshi/DK postcards Going Seventeen: Jun/Woozi/DK/Minghao, poster, Hoshi/DK bookmark, Hoshi photocard version 3, DK photocards Love&Letter Repackaged: Hoshi/DK large photocard, Hoshi/DK/Jun/Woozi photocard