What a week. First off, all my condolences to Chris and Logan Bearden and your family. Your loss is unimaginable and I can only hope you can find a way to live with it as best you can. Carol...we all miss you. Cheers.
Now, what about me? Shallow and self involved? yes, yes indeed. So as you know I spend countless hours at the beck and call of my friends in exchange for tasteful compensation. Such was the situation last weekend when the Petaluma "client" beckoned and I hastened to do the bidding of my horse show bound friends. I was somewhat suprised that I was also watching two gigantic dogs that closely resembled lions. But being easy going and even tempered I dealt with it and carried on..The weekend was most satisfactory in that the horses were well behaved. The dogs, not so much in that they chased one of the horses in his paddock barking and carrying on like a pair of d*** fools. Eventually one of them got smacked by the horse and went limping off to sulk. I ascertained nothing was lobbed off nor was there any blood, determined injuries were deserved and probably painful but not life threatening. I informed the mother of the bad dog of his sins and went back to what ever it was I was doing.
You faithful readers will remember I was in Petaluma when the dropped drawers shipper visited. I was forewarned that the same shipper would be arriving to pick up a horse at some point over the weekend and having previously endured that treat I was prepared. Imagine my delight when the shipper arrived and 1.) it wasn't the same bare mooned fellow of before and 2.) I received insider information on the Kentucky Derby hopefuls.. So the going away horse left I hustled back to the house to catch all the pregame excitement of the Derby on the Tee Vee.
Eventually I had to go back out and do the evening chores so I did that, expecting that my timing would be such that I should be back at the house in time for the start of the race. I cleaned the stalls, changed out blankets that needed changing and did the water refilling, got the hay fed and all that. So I was on my last horse and he was in a paddock that was on the way back to the house so I untied the bad dogs and put the halter on the horse and reached around the back end of him and the explosion happened. It was exactly like a gigantic bomb, but no noise and the next thing I knew I was several feet away from where I'd been an instant before and I couldn't breathe. And I thought, well this sucks, I can't breathe. If I can't breathe I will die and I'm not ready. So I made myself breathe then I rolled out of the pasture under the hot wire and reassessed. Hmmm, oh yeah, I believe I've just been double barrelled by the hind feet of a big horse and I was alone and I should correct that. So I did what any of you would have...I called Steve and he said call 911. I became hysterical and told him to just get over here as fast as he could. He was about 45 minutes or more away . So then I told him to call Muffie and he said he didn't have her number and said I should call 911 so I hung up on him and called Muffie myself and she said call 911 and since we had discussed the idea of her going to nursing school and because of that she was practically an expert and a doctor so I called 911. Then things got really exciting.
I was able to remember who I was, where I was, even the address and the gate code and all that stuff and the next thing I knew there were about 500 ambulances, cars, lights, personnel, and a helicopter milling around. Did I say helicopter? Why yes I did. Remember the horses in their paddocks? They saw the helicopter too and thought that was really interesting and stampeded around, and I was still on the ground and there was only a hot wire between me and them. One of the paramedics (you should not smoke BTW) was trying to pull me close to the wire for some unknown reason and since I was having a little bit of a time getting enough air to scream that the wire was H.O.T.! she had just had to find that out for herself, then she pulled the wire down in her uh "shock" and the horse got out and all kinds of pandemonium let loose. And I was thinking I might have been better off by myself since none of these guys knew the first thing about horses much less ones that were in a panic state, and the blades of the helicopter were taking a really long time stopping and I was on the ground on a back board with one of those "C" Collars on. So there was no way I could get myself out of the way and was at the mercy of at least three different medical response teams each vying for the opportunity to provide excellent care, but there was all the requisite posturing to be done first and I decided to freak out. I believe I was in shock and I was freezing and I kept wondering why they kept lifting my shirt up. Suddenly they remembered they had an ambulance and it would be quieter and warmer and maybe even safer in there so off we went and they did all their EMT stuff to me and decided they would transport me to the hospital then they decided I was a trauma case and I could go in the the helicopter. My first thought was that Steve would be really impressed by that, and my second thought was that the helicopter would have to start up again and the horses were loose and after the helicopter left there would be no need for the ambulances and the rest of the personnel to be there and they would leave and the horses would then be loose on the property (hopefully) or loose on the road (probably). So I refused to be transported till the guys told me they had captured the horses and put them in stalls with water and food blah blah. So anyway, eventually I was strapped in the helicopter and went for my first ride in a whirlybird. Wish I could remember any of it, or perhaps I don't.
At any rate I found myself enroute the trauma unit at Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital and I was fretting that I had Kaiser and they told me Kaiser did not have a trauma unit and so I just had to go where they took me and I decided they might have done this before and I was better off just going with it. In the mean time my cell phone rang and rang and rang. What exactly was I supposed to do about that? I had a needle the size of two penny nail in one arm, the other was strapped under a seat belt thingy, my entire body was strapped to a board and still it rang. Finally one of the EMTs answered it and talked to Steve or Muffie or both told them where I was. Under my concise direction the medic/receptionist told Muffie to go Petluma to make sure the horses were ok and the dogs were locked up in the garage and all that housekeeping stuff was done and to bring me my purse. He then told Steve to come to Santa Rosa to see me. We arrived on the roof of the hospital, just like in the movies, and they moved me again, excrutiating pain, to a guerney that they all agreed was the first one ever built and chugged me down to the E.R./Trauma place. Then the hospital personnel began cutting my clothes off. I had successfully forestalled this action while in the field in Petaluma, but I was no match for trauma docs and the like. It did not matter the jeans were brand new, the shirt was Ralph Lauren and the bra was comfortable snip snip off they came. Thankfully I'd managed to push my paddock boots off before they had a chance to get to them as well. I may sound a little pouty at this point, but I maintain I was in shock, wasn't sure what all had happened, wasn't sure how damaged I was or any of that yet, but things were happening, they took a chest x-ray then they sent me down the hall for a cat scan, brought me back, Steve called and said he was at the hospital emergency but they no record of me, which didn't sound like a good thing, but one of the trauma nurses heard the conversation and said they assign trauma patients a code # and never release their names, so she ran down and fetched him and brought him back with her. At last a face I could recognize. Then Muffie showed up and she had no problem getting in because, well she's Muffie and few people have the energy to argue with her for any length of time. Finally the trauma doc. came in and said they'd be keeping me overnight for observation and I said what's wrong with me? and he said lot's of stuff and left. Kid you not. Eventually he came back and said I had fractured my Sternum and broken 7 ribs. Dayum.
Each time he told me something was broken or cracked they gave me more drugs and that was a really good thing, but not so good if you were meant to remember anything important like how to manage breathng and things like that. I had only he word of Muffie and Steve to go on, but they were pretty involved listening in on the woes of other more interesting patients, the lingo of cops and medics and taking unflattering pictures of yours truly. Then Muffie gave her personal assessment of the drugs I was given and gave her recommendations of successful companion narcotics to enhance my pain control regime. And Steve was thinking they should serve the families of patients alcoholic cocktails and a nice meal while they waited and all I wanted was to find out what they were going to do to/with me.
So finally they decided to send me to a room so I could be observed by some other hospital people. My only wish was granted and I had a private room. And all I had to do was ask and the narcotic fairy would appear and send happy juice into my IV and I would waft away in to oblivion and be pain free. On the down side I kept mistaking the Tee Vee turny on button with the STAT call nurse panic button and so they became disenchanted with me rather sooner than I would have liked.
..to be continued
Cheers,
Squidgy
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Juris Prudence or something
Among the random offerings in my mailbox the other day was an invitation from the Superior Court of Solano County to appear at 8:00 in the morning for jury duty. The term invitation is a very loose interpretation, however, I chose to believe they were polite anyway. I was given the option of phoning in the night before my service date to check the status of the request to appear and what not so I did that. And was informed my presence was not needed. So I foolishly made plans to go visit my youngest daughter and go to the ballet academe' (French Ya'll...all ballet is French) to watch little Mila train to become a prima ballerina with the rest of the four year olds in her class. Simply put that was a.d.o.r.a.b.l.e. and yes, I did take a video on my phone and yes I did and do bore strangers spitless with viewings. It is my duty. The daughter and the adorable grandchildren and I planned to have dinner after which I would spend the night. This as a nod to the fact that I successfully watched someone elses kid without any serious or lasting harm. Therefore Meg felt safe asking me to stay with her children while she scampered up to Tahoe to be with her hubby.
But I had been asked to call in at the end of the day the second day to check the status and I'll be go to hell if they didn't say right then and there on the phone that I should appear at 8:00 in the morning. So I was able to watch the ballet and have dinner but then I had to go home to prepare for my day in court.
Somehow I managed to get up and shower and make myself somewhat presentable and got to the court at the prescribed hour. No mean feat at any time. My fellow prospective jurors were herded in to a grim auditorium known as "Jury Room". So we all scrambled for seats that were not near anyone else and proceeded to examine each other scrupulously, well I did anyway. And my first thought was , "What part of that outfit is business casual?" and my second thought was, "No mirror at your house?" and so it went. I'm nothing if not judgemental and this was prime hunting. So anyway then we got to watch a jury movie which I remember nothing about, then we were divided in to groups I, II and III. I was in group I and assigned to a judge and court. Wonderful. So then we got to fill out some forms and mill around and I scooted off to fetch coffee, which I had to pay for. Sign of the times...Then my group was called and 12 of my compatriots were chosen to be in the first group of folks to sit in the jury box, then an additional six were chosen to be alternates. I was not chosen and I figured that this was all groovy and what not, but I would soon be on my way to hearth and home.
Not so quick. I had not counted on the myriad of excuses the initial 18 would come up with. Although I have to say it would have been a lot more entertaining if they hadn't been so passive aggressive with their excuses. I didn't really care except that none of this was like Law and Order, The Defenders, Perry Mason, or L.A. Law and I was rapidly losing my sense of humor about the whole affair. I did think the religious zealot who ranted on for a good long time about Judicial Law and Biblical Law and the differences and all that and he couldn't possibly compromise himself blah blah blah and judge was like "dude, you only have to consider judicial law here and your other beliefs don't count." I thought that was pretty good, cause I thought the religious zealot was going to have a stroke.
Well anyway the attorneys for the prosecution and defense went through the panel and dismissed the best liars and every time one was excused someone from the six alternates had to go take a seat in the jury box. To make this shorter, everyone was a bad liar and sooner or later almost all the jurors were excused and the extras (me and some 18 others) were eventually called and placed in the alternates chairs and as luck would have it the judge was tired of excuses and lies and the attorneys got rid of some more folks in the box and no one asked me anything and I was chosen as juror #10. What-A- process.
So we were sworn in and the trial began. Again not anything like I had been TV primed for. Real lawyers are boring. Or at least these two were. The plaintiff was boring and I pegged her as a liar and probably on some really good meds. for her day in court. The witness was a git and not credible and gross. Then the defendant, whom we all had been sizing up as a scum bag proved that to be true with the possibility that he too was a liar. And wasn't this just jolly? So we got to the end of the trial and it coincided with the end of the day so we went home and we were threatened with all kinds of bad stuff if we talked about, researched, used a dictionary and all this other stuff about the trial. Do you know Steve? He's nothing if not persistent. But I gotta hand it to him, he didn't try to wheedle anything out of me that compromised my position. Good boy. But what this really meant was that we got to come back for another day! What fun. So then were bored spitless with endless instructions read to us by the judge, then the boring attorneys rambled on and made no sense cause neither of them had made any points worth mentioning, and we had to listen and listen and listen. And I wondered why the defendant was wearing the same outfit as the day before and I also wondered why he didn't put a little more effort in to his appearance. I may be shallow.
So eventually we got to go to the jury deliberation room. And unlike what you've read in your Grisham novels and seen on the TV, there were no refreshments. Not looking good. Well anyway I thought the attorneys had done a piss poor job of both defense and prosecution and neither had proved anything and so my answer was obvious. You must acquit. Never underestimate the power of a group. So we wrangled and some people got hot, and I said yeah I thought the guy hit the girl, but no one proved to me he did and so that was that. We did get taken out to lunch led and followed by the cops, and when we returned we voted and were hung at 9-3 not guilty. Awesome. We needed a 100% accord to deliver a verdict, but we were not able to do that and the judge was a little pissy, though he said we were good boys and girls. So then the court somebody or other polled us one by one as to whether or not we were hopelessly deadlocked and we were able to agree on that and so we were excused and the whole deal was declared a mistrial. A fitting boring end to a really boring trial.
I am exempt from jury duty for a year now. Praise be. I'm glad I went through and did it, another life experience and blog fodder. Happily it was only two days out of my so full life and though I would have liked to have come to a consensus with all of us agreeing I did make an excellent contact with a guy who does BBQ catering and managed to get some recipes. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Cheers,
Squidgy, JD
But I had been asked to call in at the end of the day the second day to check the status and I'll be go to hell if they didn't say right then and there on the phone that I should appear at 8:00 in the morning. So I was able to watch the ballet and have dinner but then I had to go home to prepare for my day in court.
Somehow I managed to get up and shower and make myself somewhat presentable and got to the court at the prescribed hour. No mean feat at any time. My fellow prospective jurors were herded in to a grim auditorium known as "Jury Room". So we all scrambled for seats that were not near anyone else and proceeded to examine each other scrupulously, well I did anyway. And my first thought was , "What part of that outfit is business casual?" and my second thought was, "No mirror at your house?" and so it went. I'm nothing if not judgemental and this was prime hunting. So anyway then we got to watch a jury movie which I remember nothing about, then we were divided in to groups I, II and III. I was in group I and assigned to a judge and court. Wonderful. So then we got to fill out some forms and mill around and I scooted off to fetch coffee, which I had to pay for. Sign of the times...Then my group was called and 12 of my compatriots were chosen to be in the first group of folks to sit in the jury box, then an additional six were chosen to be alternates. I was not chosen and I figured that this was all groovy and what not, but I would soon be on my way to hearth and home.
Not so quick. I had not counted on the myriad of excuses the initial 18 would come up with. Although I have to say it would have been a lot more entertaining if they hadn't been so passive aggressive with their excuses. I didn't really care except that none of this was like Law and Order, The Defenders, Perry Mason, or L.A. Law and I was rapidly losing my sense of humor about the whole affair. I did think the religious zealot who ranted on for a good long time about Judicial Law and Biblical Law and the differences and all that and he couldn't possibly compromise himself blah blah blah and judge was like "dude, you only have to consider judicial law here and your other beliefs don't count." I thought that was pretty good, cause I thought the religious zealot was going to have a stroke.
Well anyway the attorneys for the prosecution and defense went through the panel and dismissed the best liars and every time one was excused someone from the six alternates had to go take a seat in the jury box. To make this shorter, everyone was a bad liar and sooner or later almost all the jurors were excused and the extras (me and some 18 others) were eventually called and placed in the alternates chairs and as luck would have it the judge was tired of excuses and lies and the attorneys got rid of some more folks in the box and no one asked me anything and I was chosen as juror #10. What-A- process.
So we were sworn in and the trial began. Again not anything like I had been TV primed for. Real lawyers are boring. Or at least these two were. The plaintiff was boring and I pegged her as a liar and probably on some really good meds. for her day in court. The witness was a git and not credible and gross. Then the defendant, whom we all had been sizing up as a scum bag proved that to be true with the possibility that he too was a liar. And wasn't this just jolly? So we got to the end of the trial and it coincided with the end of the day so we went home and we were threatened with all kinds of bad stuff if we talked about, researched, used a dictionary and all this other stuff about the trial. Do you know Steve? He's nothing if not persistent. But I gotta hand it to him, he didn't try to wheedle anything out of me that compromised my position. Good boy. But what this really meant was that we got to come back for another day! What fun. So then were bored spitless with endless instructions read to us by the judge, then the boring attorneys rambled on and made no sense cause neither of them had made any points worth mentioning, and we had to listen and listen and listen. And I wondered why the defendant was wearing the same outfit as the day before and I also wondered why he didn't put a little more effort in to his appearance. I may be shallow.
So eventually we got to go to the jury deliberation room. And unlike what you've read in your Grisham novels and seen on the TV, there were no refreshments. Not looking good. Well anyway I thought the attorneys had done a piss poor job of both defense and prosecution and neither had proved anything and so my answer was obvious. You must acquit. Never underestimate the power of a group. So we wrangled and some people got hot, and I said yeah I thought the guy hit the girl, but no one proved to me he did and so that was that. We did get taken out to lunch led and followed by the cops, and when we returned we voted and were hung at 9-3 not guilty. Awesome. We needed a 100% accord to deliver a verdict, but we were not able to do that and the judge was a little pissy, though he said we were good boys and girls. So then the court somebody or other polled us one by one as to whether or not we were hopelessly deadlocked and we were able to agree on that and so we were excused and the whole deal was declared a mistrial. A fitting boring end to a really boring trial.
I am exempt from jury duty for a year now. Praise be. I'm glad I went through and did it, another life experience and blog fodder. Happily it was only two days out of my so full life and though I would have liked to have come to a consensus with all of us agreeing I did make an excellent contact with a guy who does BBQ catering and managed to get some recipes. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Cheers,
Squidgy, JD
Friday, April 22, 2011
Recovery
I don't mind telling you that it has taken me all this time to recover from Nanny duties. I am definitely not cut out to tend to the needs and wants, petulant or not, of children. It's not that I don't like them, or maybe it is, but my goodness they are needy little buggers. Like they want food. In the morning. When it should be real quiet like. And they have to be taken to school. What? And if that wasn't enough, then they want to be picked up. Some of you will be shaking your collective heads and murmuring, "yeah but didn't you HAVE children?" Well the answer to that is yes. Yes I do/did. The offspring's recollections of their idyllic childhoods vary tremendously from one to another. Depending on which one you talk to and whether or not they are mad at me I am either the "mother of the year" or "demon seed". Very little middle ground there. Ah well, I'm not going to bore you with those reminisces.
No, I'm going to bore you with what I discovered last weekend while I toiled in the sun at Ram Tap. Not once but twice I was assaulted by two friends who wanted to let me know that I was sending them weekly spam. OMG. Spam. Really? This blog may be many things but it never occurred to me that it could be mistaken for Spam. So,
Says I: "did you open it?"
Says they: " ...eww no. "
Says I: "it's my blog and it's catching the nation by storm (or something.) I can't believe you think it's spam. Just read it. You'll be glad you did."
Says one of them: "OK fine I'll read it." (And then made a hasty departure.)
Says the other one (heretofore known as the humorless one): "I don't have time to read everything that comes in my inbox. When would I make money?"
**sigh**
Why does my life have to be so hard?
I am currently in Petaluma house sitting. I have five horses under my care. I've already been here for about seven hours and nothing has broken or run away. Pretty good so far.
Naturally this has given me some time to view some really outstanding day time television. Like "Cell block G; Women behind Bars." That was uplifting. One of the best parts of day time television, besides the obvious as above, are the ads for what you could be missing. Like next week when TLC will have the entire five days devoted to royal wedding stories and "insider" stuff. Will anyone be going to work? I think not. Probably too, the DVR's of the nation will be in overdrive on Friday busily capturing every moment on every network of the royal nuptials. Really? Good grief. Go mow your lawn. If you weren't invited, and I am miffed, they don't want you there. Period. Ha ha j.k. Of course you should watch. It's royalty for crimenty sakes. Like fairy tales and good over evil and the tooth fairy and Santa. Indulge, fantasize and over eat.
Because I don't have enough to worry about with the puzzle as to where my invite to the royal wedding do is, I must also fret about not being at Badminton this weekend for the biggest horse trials in the world. But I had this gig this weekend, so I couldn't get away. Seriously, if you ever have the chance and you even remotely like horses, try to go at least once to this amazing show. And if you don't like horses, there is always shopping. A lot of shopping. Sue and Linda are there. If you two love me, bring me presents. I love presents. Linda and her husband Terry are the proud owners of a horse that is competing there. They even have a pet rider, though she rides for a foreign country. But we like her anyway. Kick on!
As if that wasn't enough, this weekend, once again, all my friends are at a horse show near San Luis Obispo. I hope you are all having a marvelous time. And a lot of these lucky folks will then just jet off to the bluegrass state to watch Rolex next week. Another of the truly great horse shows. And may I just say Kelly, Tiana and Kristi? All the best. And Kristi? You love dressage. And Tiana? You are fantastic. Kisses to Blueberry. And Kelly? Just do what you do gurl.
I am getting v. nostalgic in my old age.
I'm going to post this now so Sue and Linda have ample time to shop for moi. I'm a fan of just about anything British, but I'd really like a royal wedding mug. And a new Barbour. And maybe some Dewberry's. You know little things.
Ta Ta for now
and
Cheers
Squidgy
No, I'm going to bore you with what I discovered last weekend while I toiled in the sun at Ram Tap. Not once but twice I was assaulted by two friends who wanted to let me know that I was sending them weekly spam. OMG. Spam. Really? This blog may be many things but it never occurred to me that it could be mistaken for Spam. So,
Says I: "did you open it?"
Says they: " ...eww no. "
Says I: "it's my blog and it's catching the nation by storm (or something.) I can't believe you think it's spam. Just read it. You'll be glad you did."
Says one of them: "OK fine I'll read it." (And then made a hasty departure.)
Says the other one (heretofore known as the humorless one): "I don't have time to read everything that comes in my inbox. When would I make money?"
**sigh**
Why does my life have to be so hard?
I am currently in Petaluma house sitting. I have five horses under my care. I've already been here for about seven hours and nothing has broken or run away. Pretty good so far.
Naturally this has given me some time to view some really outstanding day time television. Like "Cell block G; Women behind Bars." That was uplifting. One of the best parts of day time television, besides the obvious as above, are the ads for what you could be missing. Like next week when TLC will have the entire five days devoted to royal wedding stories and "insider" stuff. Will anyone be going to work? I think not. Probably too, the DVR's of the nation will be in overdrive on Friday busily capturing every moment on every network of the royal nuptials. Really? Good grief. Go mow your lawn. If you weren't invited, and I am miffed, they don't want you there. Period. Ha ha j.k. Of course you should watch. It's royalty for crimenty sakes. Like fairy tales and good over evil and the tooth fairy and Santa. Indulge, fantasize and over eat.
Because I don't have enough to worry about with the puzzle as to where my invite to the royal wedding do is, I must also fret about not being at Badminton this weekend for the biggest horse trials in the world. But I had this gig this weekend, so I couldn't get away. Seriously, if you ever have the chance and you even remotely like horses, try to go at least once to this amazing show. And if you don't like horses, there is always shopping. A lot of shopping. Sue and Linda are there. If you two love me, bring me presents. I love presents. Linda and her husband Terry are the proud owners of a horse that is competing there. They even have a pet rider, though she rides for a foreign country. But we like her anyway. Kick on!
As if that wasn't enough, this weekend, once again, all my friends are at a horse show near San Luis Obispo. I hope you are all having a marvelous time. And a lot of these lucky folks will then just jet off to the bluegrass state to watch Rolex next week. Another of the truly great horse shows. And may I just say Kelly, Tiana and Kristi? All the best. And Kristi? You love dressage. And Tiana? You are fantastic. Kisses to Blueberry. And Kelly? Just do what you do gurl.
I am getting v. nostalgic in my old age.
I'm going to post this now so Sue and Linda have ample time to shop for moi. I'm a fan of just about anything British, but I'd really like a royal wedding mug. And a new Barbour. And maybe some Dewberry's. You know little things.
Ta Ta for now
and
Cheers
Squidgy
Monday, April 4, 2011
nanny- a person, usually with special training, employed to care for children in a household
It occurred to me this past weekend that some of my best inspirations for this blog come during the idyllic hours I spend shoveling horse pookie. Coincidence? I think not.
Shoveling right along... Last Thursday I took myself off to whine country once again. I was to spend two days playing horse mom. The real mom had gone off to play with the rich and famous in Temecula for another horse show. She called me Thursday night, but really couldn't talk because she was at a fabulous dinner with fabulous friends. I don't know if she did that just to rub it in that I was eating deli take-out... alone whilst she and her cronies were at a smart dinner together, or not. sigh.
Squidgy Rides! Yep. So the fabulous horse show mom instructed me to ride her new horse the beloved Kilo. You have met Kilo in previous editions...OTTTB etc. etc. etc. OK then. Well of course I queried fabulous horse show mom (FHSM) if I should lunge the OTTTB to get the bucks and other vile behavior out of his system. To which FHSM replied, "Oh just get on him and ride." Well OK then. Cast your memory back to a couple episodes ago when I mentioned I wasn't in the shape I wanted to be. A scant five weeks have passed since then, and while I do go to the gym religiously (snort if you like) I've certainly not reached my ideal, and impossible goal yet. In any case it had been many, many years since I threw my leg over the back of a TB and I was sceptical of the whole idea.
Nevertheless, since I have Kaiser Insurance I bravely just got on him and rode! And loved every minute. Some of that was due to the fact that I was in my own saddle which is perfect in every way, but mostly because the beast had, what is known in the industry, a good work ethic. Yeah me. So anyway I rode for about 30 minutes partly because it was bloody hot, but mostly because Kilo had once again thrown his version of a Manolo Blahnik and the bang up job I'd done bandaging his foot only lasted so long. So that was all well and good and I was feeling all cheery and what not and foolishly expected FHSM to ring up and ask if I was alive and what ever - but she did not. Hmmm. Well anyway I re wrapped the foot and put Kilo to night night and called Shirley and said I wanted a horse just like Kilo only one that keeps his shoes on and we had a fine time slamming various farriers we've known and praising the one we loved and who are good and that was a fine time.
Round about nine o'clock FHSM texted me. What follows is a verbatim transcript of that conversation.
FHSM: How was Kilo?
Squidgy: Lovely
FHSM: Really? (like she thought I was being sarcastic or in traction or something...) >:-(
Squidgy: I love him
FHSM: sends blank text, probably in shock or something. >:-(
Then FHSM called up (remember I said she called?) OK so I figured she just called to ascertain it really was yours truly texting away and not some trauma doc. having a go. But as I said she could only talk for a second since she had more fabulous things to do now that I seemed to be alive.
Just for grins I rode Kilo the following day as well. Then I waited for the farrier to come put on the Manolo Blahnik. And waited andwaitedanwaited...Well you'd a thought someone coulda told me he'd come while I was up at the house taking a shower wouldn't you? So I waited for an hour and a half and then discovered he'd come and gone and I had played 5000 games of Mah Jong sitting in my car for no reason other than I should have just checked. fizzle
I high tailed it outta there because, as promised, Squidgy had another gig for Saturday and Sunday! Will wonders never cease. So anyway as I said I took myself off for gig II and presented myself to my new employers who were thrilled to death to see me, gave me a drink and we settled in for an evening of debauchery with the demon spirits.
Well as is their custom, the new employers arose from their slumber at the very b*** crack of dawn, and made sufficient noise as to awake yours truly, who does not welcome the dawn the same as these half wits. But I'd promised, in my incoherence the previous night, to arise with the chickens and them and get a quick run through as to what needed to be done to and for the six horses remaining at home while six other horses went off to go schooling cross country jumps in Paso Robles. So I made some kind of attempt to appear if not awake, then not completely asleep either. And Shirley rattled on a mile a minute with what to with this and that and the the other thing. And I smiled and nodded and wondered WTF any of it meant and they loaded the horses into the trailer and loaded themselves in to the truck and off they went. And I sat down and considered the ramifications of a nap.
However, I am nothing if not a consummate professional and I decided to try to recall what "she" had said and managed to remember there was something about doing the stalls. All nine or five thousand of them, at this point it really didn't matter now did it? So I breezed through them, again with that fitness thing, then took stock of the stock (hahaha I am still funny)
Then I remembered that three of the horses were leaving to go to new homes. And that various shippers would be calling to let me know of their imminent arrival and I had no recollection of who was going with who and when and any of that nonsense. So I called Shirley and said, "who's going with who and when?" So that got sorted out and sometime later the first shipper arrived to take Pearl with him to WA and I was Johnny on the Spot with that and met him at the gate with the correct horse and he parked his 18 wheeler in front of me and released the air brake or whatever the hell that thing is that hisses and pops and generally gave me a heart attack and Pearl leaped in the air and we then stood and stared as transport guy got out of the cab and pulled up his slinky gym shorts and made his way to us. I smiled. He smiled, and we agreed that this was the horse he was taking and he began the ritual of bringing down the ramp from the trailer, the top of which was up higher than my 5'6", placed the flimsy sides on the ramp, which give the illusion of barriers but in fact just sat there waving in the breeze, then down came the carpet and we were ready for Pearl to get in the trailer. Except we weren't because transport guy had to pull his shorts up. again. This time I was treated to more of the pair-o-moons than anyone had any right to see. So then we were ready and the horse went in, the shorts came down, I stared in horror, the shorts did not come up, I turned away and scanned my memory for what Emily Post said to do in these cases, discovered Emily Post would never have put herself in that position in the first place and gave it all up as a bad job and just got the hell out of the trailer. But transport guy with white, hairy moons was not done with me yet. Oh no. He was a commercial shipper so now I had to answer his questions that he had to commit to paper as to the horses name?...uh Pearl. Where it was going? Washington somewhere I think. New owner? I knew that. THEN I had to man up and sign the receipt. Great. So I did. Then transport guy pulled up his pants again, I said ta ta and safe trip and all that baloney and went back to the house, put my now filthy clothes in the washer and went back to bed. Not a bad way to make a living is it?
Later that afternoon I arose and since I don't wake up that easily after sufficient sleep either, I stumbled around for awhile, then made my way back to the barn and did the afternoon chores which were easy breezy and feeling pretty please with myself, settled in to wait for shipper #2 to come pick up the next two horses. Happily, and thankfully, this one had on jeans and a belt so we didn't have any of "those" issues. And he was very proud of his new trailer so we spent some time applauding it's various features, then I loaded the horses, he closed the door and off they went. Only three horses left...
So the next day came and I had to get my own lazy self up at the b*** crack of dawn, which I did rather more alertly since I'd not imbibed of the demon rum the night before and I got all the morning chores done then made nice with the horses who were left. Considered riding, and let it go. Then I decided to groom one of the horses. Which I did and considering I used only elbow grease and Show Sheen did a pretty good job of that as well. And feeling rather smug, went back to the house for another cup of coffee. Then Shirley called and said they were on their way home and I could leave if I wanted. Since I already had the check I did just that.
And now this:
Oh for crying out loud. Are you serious here? Whine country mom just rang up to hire yours truly for another episode at her casa. Evidently I am such a great friend, that now she is entrusting the life and welfare of her only son to my care. I mean really? Many of you know me. I'm sorry about that, but in any case...would you trust me with your child? That's what I thought. So the conversation went something like this:
WCM: I have to go on a camping field trip with my daughter on Weds, Thurs and will be back Friday. Can you stay?
Squidgy: Sure
WCM: Oh and by the way, little Alphonse (pseudonym) will be there and you'll need to drive him to school. Thanks man.
Squidgy: Are you serious?
WCM: Thanks man.
Squidgy: OK, are you insane?
WCM: You'll be fine,
Squidgy: Do I have to cook and all that too?
WCM: Yup
Squidgy: Perhaps I'll just call Child Protective Services now shall I?
WCM: I told him he has to buy hot lunch so you don't have to make lunches.
Squidgy: I always made my kids buy hot lunch. They learned to make their own lunches pretty early on. I hate making lunches. Hate it.
WCM: OK
Squidgy: You better have provisions, I'm not spending my wages feeding real meals.
WCM: Oh, and Holly will be there too!
Squidgy: What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?
WCM: You can leave on Friday...:-}
Squidgy: I hate you.
WCM: Love you man. Thanks
Squidgy: fizzle
Heavy sigh. I leave Wednesday for new gig as nanny to the rich and famous. Expecting a call from the father as he is a faithful reader. My life sux.
Cheers,
Squidgy
Shoveling right along... Last Thursday I took myself off to whine country once again. I was to spend two days playing horse mom. The real mom had gone off to play with the rich and famous in Temecula for another horse show. She called me Thursday night, but really couldn't talk because she was at a fabulous dinner with fabulous friends. I don't know if she did that just to rub it in that I was eating deli take-out... alone whilst she and her cronies were at a smart dinner together, or not. sigh.
Squidgy Rides! Yep. So the fabulous horse show mom instructed me to ride her new horse the beloved Kilo. You have met Kilo in previous editions...OTTTB etc. etc. etc. OK then. Well of course I queried fabulous horse show mom (FHSM) if I should lunge the OTTTB to get the bucks and other vile behavior out of his system. To which FHSM replied, "Oh just get on him and ride." Well OK then. Cast your memory back to a couple episodes ago when I mentioned I wasn't in the shape I wanted to be. A scant five weeks have passed since then, and while I do go to the gym religiously (snort if you like) I've certainly not reached my ideal, and impossible goal yet. In any case it had been many, many years since I threw my leg over the back of a TB and I was sceptical of the whole idea.
Nevertheless, since I have Kaiser Insurance I bravely just got on him and rode! And loved every minute. Some of that was due to the fact that I was in my own saddle which is perfect in every way, but mostly because the beast had, what is known in the industry, a good work ethic. Yeah me. So anyway I rode for about 30 minutes partly because it was bloody hot, but mostly because Kilo had once again thrown his version of a Manolo Blahnik and the bang up job I'd done bandaging his foot only lasted so long. So that was all well and good and I was feeling all cheery and what not and foolishly expected FHSM to ring up and ask if I was alive and what ever - but she did not. Hmmm. Well anyway I re wrapped the foot and put Kilo to night night and called Shirley and said I wanted a horse just like Kilo only one that keeps his shoes on and we had a fine time slamming various farriers we've known and praising the one we loved and who are good and that was a fine time.
Round about nine o'clock FHSM texted me. What follows is a verbatim transcript of that conversation.
FHSM: How was Kilo?
Squidgy: Lovely
FHSM: Really? (like she thought I was being sarcastic or in traction or something...) >:-(
Squidgy: I love him
FHSM: sends blank text, probably in shock or something. >:-(
Then FHSM called up (remember I said she called?) OK so I figured she just called to ascertain it really was yours truly texting away and not some trauma doc. having a go. But as I said she could only talk for a second since she had more fabulous things to do now that I seemed to be alive.
Just for grins I rode Kilo the following day as well. Then I waited for the farrier to come put on the Manolo Blahnik. And waited andwaitedanwaited...Well you'd a thought someone coulda told me he'd come while I was up at the house taking a shower wouldn't you? So I waited for an hour and a half and then discovered he'd come and gone and I had played 5000 games of Mah Jong sitting in my car for no reason other than I should have just checked. fizzle
I high tailed it outta there because, as promised, Squidgy had another gig for Saturday and Sunday! Will wonders never cease. So anyway as I said I took myself off for gig II and presented myself to my new employers who were thrilled to death to see me, gave me a drink and we settled in for an evening of debauchery with the demon spirits.
Well as is their custom, the new employers arose from their slumber at the very b*** crack of dawn, and made sufficient noise as to awake yours truly, who does not welcome the dawn the same as these half wits. But I'd promised, in my incoherence the previous night, to arise with the chickens and them and get a quick run through as to what needed to be done to and for the six horses remaining at home while six other horses went off to go schooling cross country jumps in Paso Robles. So I made some kind of attempt to appear if not awake, then not completely asleep either. And Shirley rattled on a mile a minute with what to with this and that and the the other thing. And I smiled and nodded and wondered WTF any of it meant and they loaded the horses into the trailer and loaded themselves in to the truck and off they went. And I sat down and considered the ramifications of a nap.
However, I am nothing if not a consummate professional and I decided to try to recall what "she" had said and managed to remember there was something about doing the stalls. All nine or five thousand of them, at this point it really didn't matter now did it? So I breezed through them, again with that fitness thing, then took stock of the stock (hahaha I am still funny)
Then I remembered that three of the horses were leaving to go to new homes. And that various shippers would be calling to let me know of their imminent arrival and I had no recollection of who was going with who and when and any of that nonsense. So I called Shirley and said, "who's going with who and when?" So that got sorted out and sometime later the first shipper arrived to take Pearl with him to WA and I was Johnny on the Spot with that and met him at the gate with the correct horse and he parked his 18 wheeler in front of me and released the air brake or whatever the hell that thing is that hisses and pops and generally gave me a heart attack and Pearl leaped in the air and we then stood and stared as transport guy got out of the cab and pulled up his slinky gym shorts and made his way to us. I smiled. He smiled, and we agreed that this was the horse he was taking and he began the ritual of bringing down the ramp from the trailer, the top of which was up higher than my 5'6", placed the flimsy sides on the ramp, which give the illusion of barriers but in fact just sat there waving in the breeze, then down came the carpet and we were ready for Pearl to get in the trailer. Except we weren't because transport guy had to pull his shorts up. again. This time I was treated to more of the pair-o-moons than anyone had any right to see. So then we were ready and the horse went in, the shorts came down, I stared in horror, the shorts did not come up, I turned away and scanned my memory for what Emily Post said to do in these cases, discovered Emily Post would never have put herself in that position in the first place and gave it all up as a bad job and just got the hell out of the trailer. But transport guy with white, hairy moons was not done with me yet. Oh no. He was a commercial shipper so now I had to answer his questions that he had to commit to paper as to the horses name?...uh Pearl. Where it was going? Washington somewhere I think. New owner? I knew that. THEN I had to man up and sign the receipt. Great. So I did. Then transport guy pulled up his pants again, I said ta ta and safe trip and all that baloney and went back to the house, put my now filthy clothes in the washer and went back to bed. Not a bad way to make a living is it?
Later that afternoon I arose and since I don't wake up that easily after sufficient sleep either, I stumbled around for awhile, then made my way back to the barn and did the afternoon chores which were easy breezy and feeling pretty please with myself, settled in to wait for shipper #2 to come pick up the next two horses. Happily, and thankfully, this one had on jeans and a belt so we didn't have any of "those" issues. And he was very proud of his new trailer so we spent some time applauding it's various features, then I loaded the horses, he closed the door and off they went. Only three horses left...
So the next day came and I had to get my own lazy self up at the b*** crack of dawn, which I did rather more alertly since I'd not imbibed of the demon rum the night before and I got all the morning chores done then made nice with the horses who were left. Considered riding, and let it go. Then I decided to groom one of the horses. Which I did and considering I used only elbow grease and Show Sheen did a pretty good job of that as well. And feeling rather smug, went back to the house for another cup of coffee. Then Shirley called and said they were on their way home and I could leave if I wanted. Since I already had the check I did just that.
And now this:
Oh for crying out loud. Are you serious here? Whine country mom just rang up to hire yours truly for another episode at her casa. Evidently I am such a great friend, that now she is entrusting the life and welfare of her only son to my care. I mean really? Many of you know me. I'm sorry about that, but in any case...would you trust me with your child? That's what I thought. So the conversation went something like this:
WCM: I have to go on a camping field trip with my daughter on Weds, Thurs and will be back Friday. Can you stay?
Squidgy: Sure
WCM: Oh and by the way, little Alphonse (pseudonym) will be there and you'll need to drive him to school. Thanks man.
Squidgy: Are you serious?
WCM: Thanks man.
Squidgy: OK, are you insane?
WCM: You'll be fine,
Squidgy: Do I have to cook and all that too?
WCM: Yup
Squidgy: Perhaps I'll just call Child Protective Services now shall I?
WCM: I told him he has to buy hot lunch so you don't have to make lunches.
Squidgy: I always made my kids buy hot lunch. They learned to make their own lunches pretty early on. I hate making lunches. Hate it.
WCM: OK
Squidgy: You better have provisions, I'm not spending my wages feeding real meals.
WCM: Oh, and Holly will be there too!
Squidgy: What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?
WCM: You can leave on Friday...:-}
Squidgy: I hate you.
WCM: Love you man. Thanks
Squidgy: fizzle
Heavy sigh. I leave Wednesday for new gig as nanny to the rich and famous. Expecting a call from the father as he is a faithful reader. My life sux.
Cheers,
Squidgy
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
really? It's meant to snow and storm all weekend. Mountains?
As you may have gleaned from the title, something happened that involved all of the above and so much more. Let me enlighten you.
Snow bound/horseshow bound mom rang up the other day and said she wanted to take the urchins to the snow for the weekend and would I come over and stay for the weekend? Just Friday and Saturday and come home on Sunday. And she would have the stall cleaner guy come in on Saturday to do the stalls in the morning, but sorry I would be on my own on Saturday night and Sunday. Well, ok, since Steve has decided he must never have a day off from work I figured I might as well go to a beautiful part of the state and get my horse fix. Off I went. In the pouring down rain.
Now for those of you in Outer Mongolia, when it rains and is cold it usually means that it is snowing and freezing in the Sierra Mountains. All that is a natural nature sort of deal, but with it comes the purely outrageous phenomenen of jerkism on wheels. Jerkism drivers are around everywhere, but their appearances in times of vile driving conditions are horrible. They prove themselves by driving way too fast or slow and generally make your life miserable by doing stupid stuff in their BMW's or Cadillacs. For whatever reason these are the autos of choice to be a real jerk in the show. Like you've spent way too much money on your car to be bothered with the Golden Rule and what not. If you have one of the above cars and do not consider yourself a jerkism driver, ask yourself these questions. 1. Do you drive fast enough for everyone? 2. Do you keep your ski rack on your car in the summer? 3. Do you pass erratically on blind turns then brake suddenly? 4. Do you plant your 35 mph self in the fast lane at all times? A yes to any of the above qualifies you to be a jerkism driver. Get a grip.
Anyway, as I was saying it was raining as I made way to wine (whine) country and I found myself thinking that driving up to the mountain to a snug get away in the snow sounded insane. Cast your memory to the tale of the Donner Party... Happily, snow bunny mom is insane at times and after assuring me it would all be fine, piled herself and the offspring into the car and zoomed off. Uh yup. So she made it as far as the beaucolic town of Colfax, which is roughly two hours over and up the road. In the middle of gold country. And, yup you guessed it, some jerkism driver had managed to create a real fuster cluck and the roads were closed and everyone was being turned around, even snow bunny mom with 4WD. Yup. Turned back and too far to go home and outnumbered by the cops to go forward. Meanwhile I was at the casa thinking neener neener, and I told you so, neener neener. And because I have these moments I naturally assumed that snow bunny mom would cede to defeat and bring her self home and try again another day since it was forcasted to storm and snow and blow and be generally unpleasant all weekend. Well what on earth was I smoking? Snow bunny mom returned to the roadways in the a.m. and proceeded up the highway to the snug get away in the snow. Really? And immediately got herself snowed in with no way home till Monday at the earliest. Good job she had such valuable and reliable and flexible help at home wasn't it? You betcha.
While it was snowing and blowing in the mountains, it was raining and blowing in the flat lands. And while the chill factor was negligible to the Sierras, wet and cold is still objectionable. And after that huge build up, that is the worst that happened to me all weekend. Except for the part when I took myself off to Santa Rosa to visit REI, and then off to Petaluma to visit Shirley. And all that was good fun and I didn't get lost or anything except for trying to out guess my phone navigation system and earned an impressive 95% fail rate of being in the correct lane for turning one way or the other. Fizzle. At any rate, I did manage to find my way to both sites I planned to visit. Then I programmed the phone navigation system to take me back from whence I came. Demons live in the nav. system of my inappropriately named "Ally". As I was saying it was storming and there were even jerkism drivers here as well, and I blindly followed the little voice in my phone through roads I never knew existed through areas that should have been closed to traffic and in a hair raising hour later I found my way back to casa drenched and in a bit of a foul temper. Just a bit.
I took my withered self down to the barn to clean up the messes the horses had made in their rooms and trudged through the much and mire to dump their messes in the pile outside which meant getting wet and thoroughly disgruntled. Then I fed their greedy, self involved selves their evening nosh, put their jammies on and bid them goodnight. huffily.
On the up side Steve had made his appearance at Casa snow bunny, and we went off to the local pub for burgers and vodka. The local pub is everything you could hope for in a local watering hole. Lot's of locals, generous drinkies and good food. They even had the little hooks on the underside of the bar top from which you can hang your coat or purse and settle in for a long evening of imbibery and a viewing of local color. It was a perfect ending to a bleak and dreary day.
Sunday morning came a little too early for my liking. And a barn full of messy horse stalls and messy, hungry, restless horses awaited my attention. Some days you think you will never get everything done. You work and work and still there are more things to do. This was one of those days. To make it worse the wall clock in the barn is impossible to reset to accomodate the time change we experienced a week ago (Hallelujah Brothers) so I just couldn't sort it out in my mind and I kept thinking I was getting a lot done since I'd left the house at 7: 30 by the clock on the microwave, which had been reset, and then arrived at the barn and milled around doing stuff for what seemed like hours and hours untill I glanced at the clock and saw that only one hour had passed since I left the house. And so I fooled myself into thinking that I was really setting a blistering pace until at last I was done and realized the barn clock time was an hour behind the real time and in fact I was slower than molasses. In my defense I did get all the horses turned out in rotation so they could soak up some rain intermixed with inextricable moments of blinding sun. And even rain in the sun and it was mystical and surreal. And what ever. I limped back up to the house after the morning exertions and collapsed on the couch with the Jack Russells and yes, the Great Dane and everyone muscled each other around to gain the prime nesting spot on the sofa and settled in for a much needed spot of nap. Well the Great Dane didn't get the couch because she is the size of the couch, but she paced endlessly back and forth swabbing my face with her tongue on each pass to assure that I didn't actually reach nirvana and so it went for a good long time.
I arose after my face had been thoroughly drenched, and in the audience of the caged rat took a shower and prepared myself to go on another outing since there were now periods of bright sun interspersed with some rain, but nothing like the day before. My mission was to find a wheel for the rat. The rat is named Jerry. It is gray and has a white spot on its tummy and is pretty cute for a rat. I don't mind rats and mice if they aren't trying to scare the ever living life out of you by doing the rodent leap at your person from a dark corner. So anyway the rat didn't have wheel and I just can't get my head around the fact that caged rats should have a cardio wheel so there you are. And I found myself back in Petaluma looking for a pet store that was open on Sunday and had a rat department. And I was successful and I ignored the voice in my phone and made my way back to the rancho without any drama. If I could have managed a happy dance, then this would have indeed been the time to perform it.
I'll spare you the drudgery of evening chores, but they were performed in a satisfactory time and manner. And I was able to go off to the local market for an opportunity to select a nourishing repast from the deli, went back up to the house and settled in for an evening with David Tutera on "My Fair Wedding". And since the snow bunny was snowed in I turned the heat way up to 62 degrees and curled up under a load of blankets and dogs and zoned the evening away.
Monday morning Gil arrived to clean the stalls and I fed the horses and escaped to the house after that and drank coffee and surfed the internet till I felt I could face the day. I went back to the barn and lunged some horses and ponies and turned others out, and talked to snow bunny on the phone and ascertained that she was going to come home at last and she did and we had a good ole time recounting our various adventures and generally had a good time especially since the farrier came (a different one from the one before if you are a faithful reader) and we played who do you know for awhile and examined some horse feet and hemmed and hawed for a time. Later a child came over to take a lesson on the pony I had lunged and bathed earlier in the day. And finally all the chores were done, and the mother and I went back to the house and had a "Hot Apple Pie" concoction which contains hot apple cider and Tuaca. A few of those will do some real damage should you be so inclined to drink too many. I resisted temptation to drink myself senseless and drove home to Steve and a little din din at the local Taqueria and that was that.
Snow Bunny mom turns back into Horse Show Mom next Wednesday, and I shall make my way back to casa costa lotta for another few days of horse stuff, but Gil will be there to do the stalls, because I haven't really improved my stall cleaning times, that will be a good thing. And we'll just carry on from there. And if anything interesting happens I will regale you with tales of the stay.
Squidgy may have another house/horse sitting gig in the works. This too may provide fodder for blogging, so stay tuned for more adventures.
Cheers,
Squidgy
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Squidgy gets another job...unbelievable.
The ski bound mother of several episodes ago called and requested my help at her place whilst she took herself off to Twin Rivers in central California for a horse trials. With her were going the offspring she whelped and two of the now three ponies currently in residence. Because there was now no cat, the danger of any animals finding themselves in mortal peril seemed to be Nil. I'll stop right here at firmly state, that 1. I didn't kill the cat and 2. Nothing died that shouldn't have.
So the "now renamed horse show mother" requested my appearance the night before she planned to leave so she could get me up to speed with the news that there would be four horses and one pony that needed my attention. Two of those horses required actual hand walking and care. One of them had colicked earlier that week, and prior to that had managed to damage itself from being alone and tried to jump some unattainable height over a fence in a pasture not meant for jumping and had a litany of injuries and maladies that will bore you stupid and it doesn't matter anyway. The other one was recovering from a bad tendon and had realized that he was on the mend and the danger of having to go back to work was imminent so he managed to incubate an abscess in his right front foot. The abscess info. will just have to wait for a time when I can give it the spot light it deserves. Just know that they are crippling, involve farriers and vets and $$ and a really unreasonable amount of care and time.
Lemme tell you something. Hand walking horses is not that much fun. God invented Euro-cisers for a reason and that reason is that horses have very little regard for the insignificant human gamely holding on the rope which is attached to a head collar which is meant to give the illusion of control when handling horses. Allow me to state, categorically, that if a horse decides to be afraid, has a tantrum, insists on a different direction at a different and much accelerated speed you have no chance at all of maintaining any control at all. Period. Now you can employ the use of chains and all the other devices meant to give you the upper hand, but should the notion cross the mind of a beast weighing over a thousand pounds and said beast has the brain the size of a walnut...well just accept you are toast. Anyway. While the reasons for hand walking are many, for our purposes, the horses needed hand walking because (wait for it) that was the only exercise they were allowed! Imagine the possibilities. For perspective, imagine you have spent months and months and months getting yourself in shape; you have worked out for hours a day - every day and you have muscles rippling and your coat is shiny and you can have all the food you want as long as it's what ever the current fad is for feeding and you are full of energy and are raring to go. Then let's imagine that you sprain your ankle, or your hamstring, or quad or something that makes you limp. Suddenly you locked in a 12 x 12 stall with no activity at all except for twice a day when some idiot shows up to take you for walkies. um um um Using your human imagination visualize a kite on a string or a run away train...you get the idea. So anyway as I was saying hand walking = no bueno. And yours truly had not one but two to contend with.
Now that I've regaled you with what can happen let me just pop the bubble and tell you that both horses were pretty good and marched around the arena with me 500 times each twice a day and the worst that happened was when the Great Dane involved herself in the walkies and encouraged the bad jumper to just move along a little more vigorously by jumping up and down and snapping at the heels. Really such rudeness. The Great Dane then was locked in a stall. Bad dog. Sorry but that's about it for the walkies bit of the weekend.
Two more horses...One had just been racing her little heart out at a track in southern California only the previous week and needed some "down" time. Racehorses are made fit to race others of its kind for many furlongs and trained to come out in first. And this involves a lot of speed work and high energy feed and little else. So when a race horse is through racing, it needs a little time or a lifetime to unwind. Essentially it needs to learn that it won't have to run like mad every time it comes out of it's stall and that it can learn another job. So it just has to chill. Part of that regime may include being turned out. You know all those pastures of emerald green with miles and miles of board fencing and all the mares and babies that are turned out together to romp and gambol? Fantasy. Well for the most part. I've seen those fields and they are in Kentucky. And they belong to Sheiks and stuff. Anyway your new off the track thoroughbred (OTTTB) will likely not have seen a pasture since it was a yearling because it will have been in training to run and run and run. And when it is not running it is standing in a stall. And it may be slightly crazy. So now you have this horse and you turn it out and it goes nuts. If it doesn't damage itself, it will scare the ever living daylights out of you if you go anywhere near it. It will run and buck and rear and spin and charge and generally make an ass out of itself, but it still out weighs you and it still has a teeny tiny brain so you have to be mindful of these things and hope someday it will tire and you can put it in a stall until the next time. Happily this new horse did none of those things and just calmly walked out, waited while I took the halter off and politely walked away and then rolled in the mud. Sweet little thing.
The last horse belonged to the horse show mother. And he too was off the track, but was a little further along in his rehab. and could be ridden and worked on the lunge line. But he had some little quirks like biting and kicking and weaving. Weaving you say? Like with a loom and what not? No, I say, not like that at all. More like dancing. But usually only with the front legs. So the horse stands and then begins to shift his weight from one front leg to the other in a rhythm. The really good ones cross their legs and never break the tempo. It's annoying. So anyway this horse had all those fun traits, but I like him anyway and since my fitness isn't what I'd like it to be yet, I opted to lunge him. His name is Kilo. He's gray. Lunging. So you put some sort of a device be it a halter or a bridle on the horse (a bridle is what I used) then you thread a long rope through the rings of the bit over the head and attach it to the other side of the bit with a snap. I also used a surcingle which is a strap which goes on the back and buckles like a girth. It has lots of rings and doo dads on it that you can attach stuff to that also attaches to the bit or what ever and give you slightly more control and makes the horse work in a frame that you'd like to adopt whilst you are riding. So then you, the horse and this load of equipment will make your way to the lunging area and the horse will go around in circles with you in the middle holding on the of the rope. You will ask the horse to walk, trot and canter for hours and hours, or so it will seem while you dizzy yourself in the middle. And that's about it. Of course being a horse the opportunity will present itself to misbehave and kicking out a you, turning in on you and just plain breaking away from you will occur. Not too much you can do about that except constant vigilance.
And finally we have the pony. Ponies are smaller that horses, no surprise there. This also means they need smaller girths, bridles and the like. But most of all if you plan to ride one it is a good idea to have a bridle and a girth that fit so you don't endanger yourself any more than necessary. Happily the pony in question had a bridle. Not so happily there wasn't a girth in the joint that was small enough for it. So what I had to do was put about 400 saddle pads under the saddle and find the shortest girth I could and then cautiously hop on board and balance like I was walking on a mattress. So you may think that riding is just sitting while you are taken for a ride. Well the taken for a ride bit is true, but there is a bit of motion too. And while I was perched on top of 400 saddle pads, the saddle itself was just not tight enough to minimize the sway. So I tried to stay in the middle, stayed on and the pony was exercised and I dropped my cell phone somewhere in the process and the event was over...for the day. And that was Thursday and I repeated all the above for the next two days. And it was good. And I got paid. And I didn't kill anything, or lose anything.
Friday night I went to dinner with horse show moms parents. It's so rewarding to spend a couple hours with your friends parents. You get a lot of ammunition for one thing and then you get a lot of insight as well. Lemme tell you something horse show mom, I know things you don't even want me to know now. What a heady feeling of power.
Cheers,
Squidgy
So the "now renamed horse show mother" requested my appearance the night before she planned to leave so she could get me up to speed with the news that there would be four horses and one pony that needed my attention. Two of those horses required actual hand walking and care. One of them had colicked earlier that week, and prior to that had managed to damage itself from being alone and tried to jump some unattainable height over a fence in a pasture not meant for jumping and had a litany of injuries and maladies that will bore you stupid and it doesn't matter anyway. The other one was recovering from a bad tendon and had realized that he was on the mend and the danger of having to go back to work was imminent so he managed to incubate an abscess in his right front foot. The abscess info. will just have to wait for a time when I can give it the spot light it deserves. Just know that they are crippling, involve farriers and vets and $$ and a really unreasonable amount of care and time.
Lemme tell you something. Hand walking horses is not that much fun. God invented Euro-cisers for a reason and that reason is that horses have very little regard for the insignificant human gamely holding on the rope which is attached to a head collar which is meant to give the illusion of control when handling horses. Allow me to state, categorically, that if a horse decides to be afraid, has a tantrum, insists on a different direction at a different and much accelerated speed you have no chance at all of maintaining any control at all. Period. Now you can employ the use of chains and all the other devices meant to give you the upper hand, but should the notion cross the mind of a beast weighing over a thousand pounds and said beast has the brain the size of a walnut...well just accept you are toast. Anyway. While the reasons for hand walking are many, for our purposes, the horses needed hand walking because (wait for it) that was the only exercise they were allowed! Imagine the possibilities. For perspective, imagine you have spent months and months and months getting yourself in shape; you have worked out for hours a day - every day and you have muscles rippling and your coat is shiny and you can have all the food you want as long as it's what ever the current fad is for feeding and you are full of energy and are raring to go. Then let's imagine that you sprain your ankle, or your hamstring, or quad or something that makes you limp. Suddenly you locked in a 12 x 12 stall with no activity at all except for twice a day when some idiot shows up to take you for walkies. um um um Using your human imagination visualize a kite on a string or a run away train...you get the idea. So anyway as I was saying hand walking = no bueno. And yours truly had not one but two to contend with.
Now that I've regaled you with what can happen let me just pop the bubble and tell you that both horses were pretty good and marched around the arena with me 500 times each twice a day and the worst that happened was when the Great Dane involved herself in the walkies and encouraged the bad jumper to just move along a little more vigorously by jumping up and down and snapping at the heels. Really such rudeness. The Great Dane then was locked in a stall. Bad dog. Sorry but that's about it for the walkies bit of the weekend.
Two more horses...One had just been racing her little heart out at a track in southern California only the previous week and needed some "down" time. Racehorses are made fit to race others of its kind for many furlongs and trained to come out in first. And this involves a lot of speed work and high energy feed and little else. So when a race horse is through racing, it needs a little time or a lifetime to unwind. Essentially it needs to learn that it won't have to run like mad every time it comes out of it's stall and that it can learn another job. So it just has to chill. Part of that regime may include being turned out. You know all those pastures of emerald green with miles and miles of board fencing and all the mares and babies that are turned out together to romp and gambol? Fantasy. Well for the most part. I've seen those fields and they are in Kentucky. And they belong to Sheiks and stuff. Anyway your new off the track thoroughbred (OTTTB) will likely not have seen a pasture since it was a yearling because it will have been in training to run and run and run. And when it is not running it is standing in a stall. And it may be slightly crazy. So now you have this horse and you turn it out and it goes nuts. If it doesn't damage itself, it will scare the ever living daylights out of you if you go anywhere near it. It will run and buck and rear and spin and charge and generally make an ass out of itself, but it still out weighs you and it still has a teeny tiny brain so you have to be mindful of these things and hope someday it will tire and you can put it in a stall until the next time. Happily this new horse did none of those things and just calmly walked out, waited while I took the halter off and politely walked away and then rolled in the mud. Sweet little thing.
The last horse belonged to the horse show mother. And he too was off the track, but was a little further along in his rehab. and could be ridden and worked on the lunge line. But he had some little quirks like biting and kicking and weaving. Weaving you say? Like with a loom and what not? No, I say, not like that at all. More like dancing. But usually only with the front legs. So the horse stands and then begins to shift his weight from one front leg to the other in a rhythm. The really good ones cross their legs and never break the tempo. It's annoying. So anyway this horse had all those fun traits, but I like him anyway and since my fitness isn't what I'd like it to be yet, I opted to lunge him. His name is Kilo. He's gray. Lunging. So you put some sort of a device be it a halter or a bridle on the horse (a bridle is what I used) then you thread a long rope through the rings of the bit over the head and attach it to the other side of the bit with a snap. I also used a surcingle which is a strap which goes on the back and buckles like a girth. It has lots of rings and doo dads on it that you can attach stuff to that also attaches to the bit or what ever and give you slightly more control and makes the horse work in a frame that you'd like to adopt whilst you are riding. So then you, the horse and this load of equipment will make your way to the lunging area and the horse will go around in circles with you in the middle holding on the of the rope. You will ask the horse to walk, trot and canter for hours and hours, or so it will seem while you dizzy yourself in the middle. And that's about it. Of course being a horse the opportunity will present itself to misbehave and kicking out a you, turning in on you and just plain breaking away from you will occur. Not too much you can do about that except constant vigilance.
And finally we have the pony. Ponies are smaller that horses, no surprise there. This also means they need smaller girths, bridles and the like. But most of all if you plan to ride one it is a good idea to have a bridle and a girth that fit so you don't endanger yourself any more than necessary. Happily the pony in question had a bridle. Not so happily there wasn't a girth in the joint that was small enough for it. So what I had to do was put about 400 saddle pads under the saddle and find the shortest girth I could and then cautiously hop on board and balance like I was walking on a mattress. So you may think that riding is just sitting while you are taken for a ride. Well the taken for a ride bit is true, but there is a bit of motion too. And while I was perched on top of 400 saddle pads, the saddle itself was just not tight enough to minimize the sway. So I tried to stay in the middle, stayed on and the pony was exercised and I dropped my cell phone somewhere in the process and the event was over...for the day. And that was Thursday and I repeated all the above for the next two days. And it was good. And I got paid. And I didn't kill anything, or lose anything.
Friday night I went to dinner with horse show moms parents. It's so rewarding to spend a couple hours with your friends parents. You get a lot of ammunition for one thing and then you get a lot of insight as well. Lemme tell you something horse show mom, I know things you don't even want me to know now. What a heady feeling of power.
Cheers,
Squidgy
Sunday, February 27, 2011
O.M.G.
When we last met I was about to begin my sojurn in to the world of fitness. I've been pretty good. That is to say one day I walked to the gym and rode the bike for five minutes more than before, walked home, remembered I'd left my house keys at the gym, walked back, picked up the keys walked home, then walked to the mailbox thingy down the street, walked back and then pushed the ghetto manuel lawn mower, that Steve thought would be perfect for our purposes, around for awhile then collapsed on the couch virtually unconscious for several hours, coming to for pathetic nibbles of chocolate only to collapse again...And again...And again. If you will review your notes, you'll find that the ultimate expectation of the exercise regime was to be able to eat as much chocolate as I wanted. I don't believe the offset balances are tipping towards the losing side yet. Seeing how the next day it was raining I drove to the gym and rode the bike again for another five minutes longer than before and drove home and pushed the vacuum around for a very long time. A very long time because of the horrid dogs who with all their myriad of other sins also shed...copiously. Not as bad as my friend Chris's dogs who in one swipe turned my chic black jeans to a costume worthy of Chewbaca, but pretty bad nonetheless. So here we were on to Wednesday and now the dreaded second of my two free assessments of body awareness. The same bionic academy grad. took me through my paces. First a light warm up session on the bike, not. Then a wonderland worthy trip through the weight room and all the various instruments of torture that lurked there. To make a long story short(er), bionic woman (loosely interpreted) had designed a routine for me that variously and completely wore out every muscle group in this hereto for placid body. I have to do leg presses, chest presses, leg extensions (single leg & both) the row machine, straight leg (appropriately named) dead lifts with dumb bells, also appropriately named, abdominal crunches, hip adductions and abductions and the tricep extension machine thing. All in all from one point to another I will lift or push or pull over 800 pounds per session. If I count correctly. Sometimes that is hard if blood is coming out your eyes. Or if you are pathetic. Or if there is a gross, ugly, fat guy with way to much crackage and body hair following you around your routine. But that would never happen...would it?
I'm trying to sell my cross country saddle. I love the saddle, but I'm not sure I need it and I love my regular jump saddle. Now those of you who don't ride, and even some of you who do are wondering WTF do you need two saddles for jumping? Well I thought I did, and I did use the cross country saddle when I competed or schooled cross country and now since I don't have a horse to put it on, it sits atop the sewing machine cover and I think perhaps I will sell it. And get my hair cut with the proceeds. Anyway, the saddle is for sale and I had the opportunity to take it to Berekely last week to loan it out for trial. Now I'm asking a pretty fair price for the saddle but in 1974, we bought a car for what I want for it and took three years to pay it off. So it was a bit of a sticky wicket as to how to loan the saddle to someone I didn't know. I thought it would be a good idea to get a cashiers check, but the lady reminded me that that would be just like having cash. ?? No problem from my side, but since on the other hand she didn't know me either, she thought perhaps a little security for her was in order. Even though she had the saddle. Whatev. So I ended up calling a friend of her trainer and getting a personal endorsement, took a personal check from her and then took myself off to lunch with the daughter of Steve. To celebrate my big sale and business acumen we doodled around and shopped a bit and got our brows done and looking much fresher and younger we went our separate ways she to the land of booklearning and me to my new routine at the g.y.m..
As fate would have it the saddle did not fit the girl so I had another opportunity to drive to Berekely on Friday to pick it up. Had no lunch and zoomed back home after a brief respite at R.E.I. to salivate over an ArcTeryx jacket that I now could not afford since I had to give the check back. Manned up and left to go home and mope and then drive to the gym, (I was short on time) work out on the treadmill (a new aspect to fitness) AND the bike then shakily drive home only to leave again to go pick up grandson and carpool at snooty academy in Sacramento and ferry them back to Woodland where they were deposited at their various places of drop off and then waited patiently at my daughters house for her to come home and feed me wine. She was late.
Now I store a ton of horse and stable stuff at the daughter and son-in-laws place in one of (many) barns they have around. So I took the opportunity to go down and look through it all. There's a lot of stuff down there. Buckets, blankets, dressage earrings, whips, trunks, ribbons, 4270 hair nets, hoses, folding chairs, mats, boots, bits and helmets. I think I need to get more stuff to put the stuff in. I think thats how I ended up in this mess to begin with. I've given (forced) a lot of stuff to other people, well to one person, but she really needs to get over here and pick through the stuff to get more. Steve is no help at.all. He has a coat that hasn't been on his back since the 90's and a tuba that we have to haul around every few years and a trailer, yes a trailer full of c.r.a.p. that he hasn't looked at since 2003, but still thinks he has the right to tell me to get rid of my stuff. I say heal thyself. Not sure where this was going, but there you have it. If you need stuff you might want to call. I probably have it. Except I don't have the velcro EZBoot, but that is easily remedied. But please call too, if you want, and have to have a cross country saddle. Mint condition.
In a few short minutes from now I will have to get all gussied up to appear at Macys for three and a half hours shift of selling jewelry. It will take me easily an hour plus to get ready, for obvious reasons, not the least of which means slathering on cosmetics to try to make myself look kind of alive. And since tonight are the academy awards and everyone in Fairfield will have already bought their gems for the event, I will probably be alone in the jewelry tombs for the evening. I get to go back tomorrow as well. What's up with this? Since the first of the year I have worked one shift and that was a couple weeks ago and now I have to work two days in a row? What will this do my tax bracket? Some people are just not very understanding are they? Those of you who actually work all the time will not understand at all. You see I have a pretty nice life. I work sometimes, as you know, and I write this drivel, and I boss my husband around, to no avail, I torture my children and their spouses and have a healthy scrabble tournament going on on FaceBook, at which it enrages me to lose so I try not to, and every now and then we go to fabulous places like Fresno. So I really shouldn't whine about getting all pouffed and powdered to go work for three and a half hours, except there is no break. Break? Really? But there you have it. I'm spoiled. And life is better for it.
Amen,
Cheers,
Squidgy
I'm trying to sell my cross country saddle. I love the saddle, but I'm not sure I need it and I love my regular jump saddle. Now those of you who don't ride, and even some of you who do are wondering WTF do you need two saddles for jumping? Well I thought I did, and I did use the cross country saddle when I competed or schooled cross country and now since I don't have a horse to put it on, it sits atop the sewing machine cover and I think perhaps I will sell it. And get my hair cut with the proceeds. Anyway, the saddle is for sale and I had the opportunity to take it to Berekely last week to loan it out for trial. Now I'm asking a pretty fair price for the saddle but in 1974, we bought a car for what I want for it and took three years to pay it off. So it was a bit of a sticky wicket as to how to loan the saddle to someone I didn't know. I thought it would be a good idea to get a cashiers check, but the lady reminded me that that would be just like having cash. ?? No problem from my side, but since on the other hand she didn't know me either, she thought perhaps a little security for her was in order. Even though she had the saddle. Whatev. So I ended up calling a friend of her trainer and getting a personal endorsement, took a personal check from her and then took myself off to lunch with the daughter of Steve. To celebrate my big sale and business acumen we doodled around and shopped a bit and got our brows done and looking much fresher and younger we went our separate ways she to the land of booklearning and me to my new routine at the g.y.m..
As fate would have it the saddle did not fit the girl so I had another opportunity to drive to Berekely on Friday to pick it up. Had no lunch and zoomed back home after a brief respite at R.E.I. to salivate over an ArcTeryx jacket that I now could not afford since I had to give the check back. Manned up and left to go home and mope and then drive to the gym, (I was short on time) work out on the treadmill (a new aspect to fitness) AND the bike then shakily drive home only to leave again to go pick up grandson and carpool at snooty academy in Sacramento and ferry them back to Woodland where they were deposited at their various places of drop off and then waited patiently at my daughters house for her to come home and feed me wine. She was late.
Now I store a ton of horse and stable stuff at the daughter and son-in-laws place in one of (many) barns they have around. So I took the opportunity to go down and look through it all. There's a lot of stuff down there. Buckets, blankets, dressage earrings, whips, trunks, ribbons, 4270 hair nets, hoses, folding chairs, mats, boots, bits and helmets. I think I need to get more stuff to put the stuff in. I think thats how I ended up in this mess to begin with. I've given (forced) a lot of stuff to other people, well to one person, but she really needs to get over here and pick through the stuff to get more. Steve is no help at.all. He has a coat that hasn't been on his back since the 90's and a tuba that we have to haul around every few years and a trailer, yes a trailer full of c.r.a.p. that he hasn't looked at since 2003, but still thinks he has the right to tell me to get rid of my stuff. I say heal thyself. Not sure where this was going, but there you have it. If you need stuff you might want to call. I probably have it. Except I don't have the velcro EZBoot, but that is easily remedied. But please call too, if you want, and have to have a cross country saddle. Mint condition.
In a few short minutes from now I will have to get all gussied up to appear at Macys for three and a half hours shift of selling jewelry. It will take me easily an hour plus to get ready, for obvious reasons, not the least of which means slathering on cosmetics to try to make myself look kind of alive. And since tonight are the academy awards and everyone in Fairfield will have already bought their gems for the event, I will probably be alone in the jewelry tombs for the evening. I get to go back tomorrow as well. What's up with this? Since the first of the year I have worked one shift and that was a couple weeks ago and now I have to work two days in a row? What will this do my tax bracket? Some people are just not very understanding are they? Those of you who actually work all the time will not understand at all. You see I have a pretty nice life. I work sometimes, as you know, and I write this drivel, and I boss my husband around, to no avail, I torture my children and their spouses and have a healthy scrabble tournament going on on FaceBook, at which it enrages me to lose so I try not to, and every now and then we go to fabulous places like Fresno. So I really shouldn't whine about getting all pouffed and powdered to go work for three and a half hours, except there is no break. Break? Really? But there you have it. I'm spoiled. And life is better for it.
Amen,
Cheers,
Squidgy
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