It's a misty, rainy day here on the west coast. I was reminded of England and the fabulous weather one is accustomed to in that clime, but no one is driving furiously on the wrong side of the road and there are few stone walls. So I'm not there, I'm here and as I said it is raining. I am gainfully employed for the next ten days or so while the lord and lady of the manor are in Hawaii where they are not cleaning stalls or mucking about in the mud. Bully for them. I, however, have cashed the check and have some vague sense of responsibility to perform the duties set forth at the behest of her highness. Besides which I am deathly afraid to piss her off.
For instance. A horse arrived here at the Two Rock Event Center for the Equestrian Arts and Sciences and I, foolishly it seems, put a blanket on it at night that looked like it had perhaps come with said horse. Even more foolishly I mentioned to the lady of the manor when she called for the 400th time that day, that the horse had indeed arrived, settled in nicely and oh by the way it came with a really nice blanket. Herself was on that in a flash with all the what does it look like (the blanket, not the horse) where was it and on and on and on like that. Might I mention that it was about 9:30 at night by now? Anyway, so she finally comes to the conclusion that the blanket in question did not belong to the new horse, but was Killers spare/extra/special/private blanket and therefore sacrosanct, whatever that means. (see It felt like a bomb went off but there was no noise for the Killer reference. I would have used footnotes but well never mind) In any case it was beginning to sound like I was going to be ordered down to the barn to change that blanket right now in my jammies, but I desisted. Eventually I got her off the phone, but she then pestered and peppered me with text messages till I promised that taking that blanket of the new horse would be my only priority the next day, probably before first light. Happily I was able to call her the next morning @ 7:00 my time to inform her that the blanket was off the horse, the horse had been scrupulously examined for any sign of skin disease, was found to be clean and oopsie forgot there is a two hour time difference and how did Maui look at 5:00 in the a.m. anyway? Small victories.
Their highnesses have left behind two dogs and a cat, in addition to the eight horses, and all but one of these house animals must be medicated. The dog I don't mind as Maxine is mostly bluster and no substance since that unfortunate incident a million years ago when she tried to bite me in the face. No, it's the cat. Now I know many of you are cat people and, in fact, I too, like cats. But pilling a cat is an entirely different story. And I don't care how easy you think it must be, cats hate to have anything shoved in their mouths. Not that I blame them, but still... Since the cat hates the pilling and by extension me, it cowers under the big bed in the master bedroom. And being a cat it knows to the precise millimeter how far under the bed it must go to avoid being dragged out by yours truly for its twice daily medicine. So this means I have to go out to get the dust mop and badger the cat till it makes an error in calculation thereby allowing me an instant of opportunity to grab its tail or leg or what ever and drag it out. Then it just yells at me. It could be a Siamese cat for all the caterwaltering (lol, I just spell checked that and it suggested grandchildren) it puts forth. I am happy to report that as of yet it has not scratched or bitten me. I fear things will go south with an unfortunate rapidity should either of those misfortunes befall me.
The house animal who does not require medication is a Border Collie. He is intense. He also insists on constant interaction in the form of a toy, in his case a nasty round Frisbee thing, a ball, a bully stick or anything else that can be thrown. I am a pathetic thrower and he feels sorry for me. I don't care and just a few minutes ago I threw the nasty round Frisbee thing in to the shower tub with the glass doors and closed said doors. He is staring at the shower. This may go on for the next ten days. I'm OK with it.
Last Saturday the spouse and I got up at some unholy hour to meet up with the middle daughter and her family so we could drive to some high school to watch the youngest son wrestle in a tournament. I am troubled by the wrestling outfits. I am also troubled by the little elf shoes wrestlers wear. All in all it was a troubling day. I asked a friend of mine if her kids had wrestled in school as they had done every other known sport. But she said no, they just liked to wear the outfits. This too added to the troublesomeness. At any rate the son wrestled in like four bouts or whatever they call them and then we left and high tailed it back to the sanctity of our little abode and huddled on the couch.
I have a new phone. A white iPhone 4s to be precise. (Designed in California. Assembled in China) I feel so modern. That I can only utilize and/or understand about 1% of the features is negligible. Well, to my mind anyway. I'm pretty sure the spouse will and does have and entirely different take on the matter especially in light of the fact that while I did have upgrade eligibility and a new phone discount I no doubt could have filled my car up six time with gas for what the phone cost. But I'm pleased and what more could you ask for? Funny you should mention that ask for thing, I now want an iPad. The new one of course. Surely I will have no need for anything more in my life once that need is satisfied? Maybe one of y'all will take pity on the spouse and take the burden of that purchase on your own generous self? Thanks mucho. Much obliged. Anyway back to not utilizing my new iPhone to the extent of its capabilities, I just transferred all my contacts (444 btw) via the transfer contacts app (don't ask) and now I have many many duplicates of what I had to begin with. I understand from looking at the Verizon website, that I may reserve a spot in an iPhone 4 class to be held at my local Verizon store. This intimidates the hell out of me. Perhaps I can get the spouse to go for me or barring that with me. How 'bout it huni buni? xxx.
I fear that it is time to go pester the horses for the afternoon session of cleaning up after them and feeding them dinner. They are not grateful. They will, in fact, be rather obstreperous about the timing, quality and quantity of the dinner. I will be cold and wet, so I won't care. That's why I get paid the big bucks!