Sunday, February 10, 2013

Chez Two Rock

I'm working.  tsk tsk  such a mundane thing this working business.  But being a jolly and optimistic sort I thought I'd share with you the days I'm spending here in west Petaluma mucking out in the frost and being disrespected by the canines.  Their Highness's are once again in Hawaii for their winter respite and have prevailed upon me to keep hearty their domestic home and hearth.  Which is to say woudja feed and muck out the seven horses and medicate the ancient and worthy dawg and try not to kill the annoying and over anxious not young dawg?  And being a charitable  (and broke) sort I agreed.

I'm on day nine of a fifteen day stint.  I mostly have been trying to work out a schedule and it goes sometimes like this:
7:30 a.m.   threaten the alarm to within an inch of it's life.

7:45  press the button that makes the coffee

8:00      run out in the frost and feed grain like substances to the seven grumpy  equines.  Accept their thanks and haul a___ to the newspapers and scamper back inside to the relative warmth of the domicile.

8:05 (I can move if I want to)  Arrange the newspapers, get coffee, medicate old and worthy dawg and prepare myself for the humiliation which occurs whilst conquering the crossword.

Around 10:00:  Remove myself from the comfort and warmth of the kitchen to the fickle outdoors to remove 50# top blankets from the equines and dodge, artfully, the teeth that want more than anything to help me with the disrobing process.     Fold carefully the tonnage of blankets and sit in the cold barn aisle and review the days progress.  Finding none, begin the chore of cleaning up the messes said equines have made over night.

A word about horses and poopage.  They poop a lot.  Boy horses have a proprietary interest in their poops.  As in , don't touch it it's mine, and oh wait whose poop is that in the wheelbarrow, should I investigate?  So about the part where they take an interest in preserving the art of poops they have made and deposited randomly where ever the heck they want.  What they don't want is for you to remove it and to that end use any number of ruses to thwart your efforts to remove said poop in the form of grabbing the end of the pooper scooper (I have pictures, just not on this computer) and holding on for dear life with their teeth or standing directly in back of you feigning affection, don't be fooled, or the all time fave, dumping the wheelbarrow, best performed when it is full creating a montage of poops.   I know men like this. But instead of guarding their poops they just announce that deed has been done and does anyone want to alert the media?  Good grief.  There is a girl horse here who take no interest in the poops she makes, and stands a discreet distance away and is thankful she has a minion to come clean up that mess that someone made up and takes it away.  Thanks so much.  And Bless Your Little Heart.

Somewhere around 11:00-12:00 Finish up the barn chores depending on how messy the boys have been and tramp back to the house and collapse in leather recliner with a firm grip on the tee vee remote and spend some time catching up with the "Property Brothers" and "House Huners" and perhaps have a little snooze.  Then I may or may not take myself off to the market for greens and other delights like chocolate and Barista coffee.

3:30-4:00  Once again tramp out to the barns to reattach those 50# blankets to resistant horses.  Artfully dodge the teeth and fall to knees in gratitude that they missed me.  Scoop up the days artwork, that is to say, remove the precious pebbles the dudes have arranged, feed itchy hay and by 5:00 or so  make my way back to the house for a nice warm shower and to plan the evening festivities.

Mostly those evening festivities involve an instant meal and a salad, but I've been to dinner with Horse Show Mom where we imbibed in Lemon Drops that were too good for words and once I suppd with my beloved for a Thai Mystery dinner also with a Lemon Drop.  There may be a trend in the works here. 

8:30  In bed with the annoying, over anxious not young dawg, making ample room for him by clinging to edge of the mattress and sleeping and getting up to let the annoying, over anxious not young dawg out, let him back in, go back to bed, find edge of mattress, lay there for a minute or two then get myself up to do what needs to be done in the freezing middle of the night, return to edge of mattress and sleep till the alarm threatens me again in the morning. What. A Life.

So I'm on the downstretch here. Her Highness has not called to check up see if I'm alive in two days. Whatever hater. I have Valentine's Day to look forward to, the spouse and light of my life, my moon and stars will let me take him to dinner

I'll leave you with that dear reader.


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