Addendum to 1/8/13 post.

Cop

So the cop came last night.  We actually have been burgled (not robbed as there is a difference which cops will tell you about in patient detail).

I had to wait till Steve got home, really late last night to make a phone call as we are modern and don't have a land line and I am afraid of our neighbors.  So I called the cops.  And our "public safety officer" came over about three hours later.  Let me just tell you that it wasn't like CSI or anything.  I fully expected flashing lights, lots of fingerprint dust, guns and interrogation of the sketchy neighbors.  In fact when I mentioned the dogs might jump on our "public safety officer" and would she shoot them, she said she didn't even have a gun.  Another disappointment of epic proportions.  So on the upside the "public safety officer" chastised me for having my social security card in my wallet and then showed us pictures of her miniature dachshunds.  All in all a very civilized encounter with law enforcement at 10:30 at night.  I might add that I'd just turned out the porch light as was preparing to go night night when she showed up. 

As it turns out our Kindles have been stolen as well as my cell phone.  The box that housed the package from ATT was used to haul away our valuable loot.  Strangely, none of the jewelry which was cleverly hidden in a jewelry box was taken.  The tee vees are still here.  Mummy's silver, still here.  You'd like to think if you're going to be burgled, you could at least have  discriminating criminals with  taste and an unerring eye for the valuable.  We got ghetto burglars.  Some how that's just insulting.  PLUS I have to wait till this afternoon to get my replacement phone from FedEx today.  We definitely need to move from this joint and find an address in a tonier area.

I know all (both) of you were worriedly wondering what the outcome of the incident from yesterday yielded.  So now you can rest easy with the knowledge that I did not stroke out and I'm not crazy.  Quit sniggering, it's unattractive.

All the best.
Cheers,
Squidgy
 

Let the memories begin.

Merry Christmas.  Happy Holidays.  Feliz Ano Nuevo.   Seasons Greetings

Before we could seriously get in to the spirit of Christmas in my world, we had to first get through  celebrating and regaling my beloved on the occasion of the anniversary of his birth.  That was accomplished on  the fifteenth of December.  He got a pedicure gift card and tickets to a classical Chinese Dance performance.   He is well rounded.  And were then  free to commence with the stress and decisions that encompass Christmas.  Wa-Hoo.

they look horrified when I hold them too.

I  babysat the grand urchins for two  days  in December.  I would never deny you the pleasure of living through this  penance happy time with the children.  I mentioned something to Mila about coming to stay with her the other night and she burst in to tears.  I firmly believe they were tears of joy...the visit went off without much of a hitch.  As I discovered with my own offspring, the TeeVee is a wonderful babysitter and I'm sure the daughter and her spouse didn't mind the pay per view charges for the Tee Vee I enjoyed .  They were happy no one was damaged ...- permanently anyway. 

The old daughter and her familia  honored us with their presence (presents?) on December 31.  We had another Merry Old Time with them for the week they were here.  And I had an opportunity to corrupt fawn (To exhibit affection or attempt to please) on my youngest grandchild.  He lives too far away for me to get my clutches in to him on a regular basis.  I may have moaned about that before.  It's still true.  BTW, he had a John Deere Tractor Pinata at his birthday party in October.   What did you have?  He also had a green and yellow cake.  Obviously.

In my next life there will not be so many birthdays so close to Christmas, or we shall do away with Christmas altogether and celebrate birthdays only.  But I would still like gifts if you don't mind.  We have Steve's birthday on 12/14, Cowboy Tim's birthday on 1/4, and precious darling Jack's birthday on 1/6.  We don't have such an onslaught on my bank account till the June birthdays come around.  What in the world is going on in April/May and again in October?  (do the nine month math thing,  try to track.)  honestly.

So now we are in to 2013.  whoop whoop.  It can't possibly be any worse than 2012 was in my life.  So here's to it.  Hip Hip Hooray and all that.  I saw a phrase that I liked a lot.  It said "Life becomes  easier when you learn to accept an apology  you never got."  I will try to remember that the next time someone cuts me off, pulls out in front of me, or anything else that my sensitive little self takes exception to.  I feel better already. 

It looks like this only it had a Barbie cover on it, pink and purple.  sadness

Do you remember some time ago I shared with you the ignominy of falling in to the swamp with my brand new shiny iPhone?  Well, now I've got a true mystery on my hands.  I came home from running errands today, changed and took my extraordinarily large self off to the gym to commence with this years attempt at fitness.  My back hurts, by the way, fitness sucks.  Anyway, when I got home, (cue mystery music here) the front door was dead bolt locked, and not by my doing I might add.  A box which had been by the front door entry was unpacked the goods were left, but the  shipping box was gone.  The back door, which is never locked, was locked and dead bolted.  Some things were out of a drawer from Steve's night table and my phone, she is gone.  Naturally I thought perhaps Steve had come home and to that end I emailed him and axed him all those questions.  I would have called him, but MY PHONE IS GONE!  We don't have anything worth stealing so all of  our icky stuff is still here.  However, I just discovered that Amazon .com is happy to announce that I've successfully changed my name to Keith 707.  I am bewildered.  Perhaps I've had a stroke.  At least I've documented with all y'all what I believe to have happened.  Assuming I don't start drooling in a bin somewhere, I'll let you know how it all turns out. 

Over the holidays, I had another two opportunities to visit my Aunt Betty.  Once at a nice dinner with my cousin and two of my very favorite people in the the world Charlotte and Cheryl.  They've had the dubious honor of knowing me since before I was born.  You know how sometimes you have people in your life that you just love unconditionally?  Thats the  way I feel about Charlotte and Cheryl.  Charlotte was my moms best friend forever( I believe she is a BFF)   and Cheryl is her daughter.  She wouldn't let me wear her toe shoes when I was little.  But she was my idol as a kid.  I also got to see Aunt Betty with two of my chillens, Alison and Megan and their assorted offspring.  As is their wont, Jack and Mila extorted gifts from A. Betty in the form of (Jack) a brain coral and (Mila) a conch shell.  Not sure how that all came about, but there you have it.

I had an opportunity to spend the day with Horse Show Mom the other day.  She's been a busy little thing  selling horses left and right.  We took one sale varmint down to Menlo Park to the vet for a presale check and as is the case with horses and vets and buyers and sellers that took all bloody day.  As the horse sold on the spot, I was compensated for being agreeable and easy to get along with by a nice dinner and a couple tasty cocktails.  I'm easier to get along with if booze is involved.  Sad but true.  Maybe not sad.

I must fix dinner now.  And rest up for the arrival of my new phone tomorrow for which I must sign.  Wouldn't you sign for something that arrived at your house unless it came from the judicial department or the IRS or something?

Cheers and all the best for a great New Year!
Squidgy

Post Turkey

Annual Thanksgiving awards:  Alden wins for most pictures of a cooked bird.  Sue wins for the most turkey roasting drama.  I lose for having inedible Brussels sprouts.  End of Thanksgiving.


On to Christmas.  For the first time in history, I  decorated the house before December.  As you will recall, last year we traveled to North Carolina for Christmas, and a jolly good thing we did at that.   But we did no decorating, save a winsome, lonely wreath on the front door.  This year is another story.  The tree is up and decorated within an inch of its life, the mantle is draped, festooned and lit with gobs of stuff and the buffet in the dining room is replete with sparkling, freshly polished silver.  Not to be happy for her mother on this unprecedented feat, daughter Alison, in her snarkiest New Mexican, inquired if I'd also set the table for Christmas Eve.  Alison's birthday is on the 2nd of December, how do you think that worked out for her? That's what I thought too!  I sent her pictures of the house and asked how she was doing.  

 Daughter Lindsey and I went to see the last Twilight movie.  We had to, we'd seen the last two or three or however many there were.  And we are not apologetic.  We also got our nails done.  So one treat offset the other so to speak.  I was amused by the sign proffered at a bar stating that a 20% increase to your bill would be assessed by showing your "Breaking Dawn Part II" ticket stub.  What ever hater.

Daughter Megan and her beloved took themselves off to Portland  Thanksgiving week for an adults only  trip by themselves.  The good grandparents had the  grand-offspring.  Steve and I managed to catch the plague the week of Thanksgiving and so were spared babysitting duties um not available to help out.  Oh right, thanks to Malcolm for the plague, way to share sugar.

At this point I had ready a rant and a rave about the whining post election.  I got over it and I feel sorry for those of you who can't.  I rest.

In an effort not to be a horrible person, I visited my ancient Auntie the other day.  She kept reminding me that she was 90 years old.  I said not for long, as her birthday is in January.  She was confused about that.  She got cross with me several times and then told me I could come by any time but there was no guarantee she would be home as her schedule varied from day to day.  I agreed to do whatever she wanted, she was carrying a stout cane.  I love her.


So there used to be this computer game called Bureaucracy.  It was in DOS format.  I believe that DOS stood for dumb operating system.  I played this game on an Apple PCJr.  Suffice it to say that this was in a galaxy far far away.  Before windows.  Anyway, Bureaucracy, the deal was you had to type in commands to perform simple every day tasks like finding the phone, getting the mail, talking to repair people etc.  Each time something went haywire, like you didn't move the correct object to find something to find something else your blood pressure would rise.  Eventually you would have a stroke and die.  The game gave up the ghost for me after I discovered you had to stroke the llama's tongue to open the mailbox, but I digress.  Anyway, I tried to reach the repair/service department at a Sears store today.  OMG and FML, epic fail and all that, I never did talk to a service person at the store, but I did talk to some call center in Bangladesh or where ever and nearly popped a vessel talking to the phone maze.  The upshot of this is my beautiful Cobalt Blue Kitchenaid stand mixer, that I bought for myself when I had a pity party for myself back in 1986, seized up last night in the middle of making gingerbread.  And all I really want to do do is find someone to fix the thing.  A quick call to all the appliance repairs idiots in Vacaville got me no where as, to a man,  they only do major appliances and my major melt downs had no affect whatsoever on any of them.  I feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it.  Perhaps a nice cocktail will calm me down.  Who cares if it's 10 in the morning.  I'll bet it's 5 in Bangladesh.  This would be a bad time to offer platitudes... or advice.  Real bad.

RIP

On that happy note, I shall sign off for now.
Adieu,
Cheers,
Squidgy

'

Hacked Off

So last week started off on a high note with the discovery that my email had been hacked.  Great.  All my plans to extort money have been circumvented by some bad guys wearing clown suits.  JK  they weren't wearing clown suits that I'm aware of.   On the upside, I heard from so many of you I've not heard from in centuries forever.  Just to be clear, I'm not in London, though I wouldn't mind, and I would love for you to send money.  I know from previous attempts to prod you all in to sharing your wealth with me that this is a faint and pathetic request.

Sadly, the hacking incident was the high point of my week.  I should get out more often, but it all seems rather futile.  For instance, Sunday I never even got dressed and utilized my time by trying out a new Macaroni-n-Cheese recipe and watching "My Fair Lady" for the umpteenth thousandth time.  Once again the Ascot scene  was the high point.  What a frenzied moment that was...

We survived another Ram Tap a couple weekends ago.  Barely.  It was the first trip to Fresno for the little adopted squirrel dog.  She was impressed.  She also picked a fight with Emma over who got to be next to the people in the bed. A lot of scrapping later, Steve suffered damage to his digits whilst separating the piranhas snapping, snarling  babies who each had a death grip on each others mandible and maxillae.  Hate the babies.  Steve is still suffering from his injuries, but not nearly as much as yours truly who is required to minister medication and cluck sympathetically over the state of his suppurating sores.  I am not a nurse.  Full stop.

The dawgs have not scrapped in a couple days now, nay Emma and the squirrel have been caught engaging in what some might call playful banter, batting at each other and jumping about.  I steadfastly force myself to believe the warring is over, but judging from the look on Emma's face, she's just biding her time for an opportunity to send Lili packing to the giant tamale stand in the sky.  (Lili is a chi hua hua afterall)  I believe a Lab is in my future.  I mean I hope a Lab is in my future.

We took ourselves off to the northlands to watch the grandbabies play soccer.  I would have to say that perhaps little Mila has decided that it is a far better use of her time to stare at pictures of herself on the "other" (read "good") granny's iPhone.  So Megan screached at her daughter "get out and play and take no prisoners" and like that, and I'm all "so, you're that  mother" and all her cronies were like, "yeah, Meg, so you're that mother."  And Megan was all "shutup mom" and Mila ran for cover on the lap of the good grandmother.  The "good" grandfather was not in attendance as he was busy playing kick the soccer ball with Jack who was all "old guys ...give it up man" and Ken was all sweaty and red faced (he is older than me afterall)  Sitting in his newly acquired extra large folding chair that was purchased only that very morning on a very special trip to WalMart, was my beloved who was engrossed in a riveting game of Free Cell  on his iPhone.  And where was the father of the grandurchins?  why sitting in his little chair wondering why all of his inlaws had come up to disturb his weekend and would they be staying afterwards or would they (please, please, pretty please) be going straight home?  Ah, family togetherness.  I just can't wait for the holidays.  Oh wait, yes, yes I can.

Speaking of the holidays.  My ex-brother in law invited all my children to come to his house for Thanksgiving.  This invitation did not include yours truly and my spouse.  As is my wont, I was very sulky and pouty for a few minutes.  And I might mention that the aforementioned children rejoindered with a rousing chorus of " where were you when we were children on Thanksgiving?  Oh, right, you were at Ram Tap at a horse show."  Little beasts.   Because I feel like  cooking, I  would like to have just have a little dinner party at home.  I have invited the royalty of Petaluma,  they have not agreed to come yet.  We'll see what happens.  I suspect we will have turkey loaf and instant mash in the solitude and of our little casa, just the two of us.   Happily what this really means is a great deal leftover $$ for me since I won't be celebrating Christmas giftage with the ingrates.  Ho Ho Ho time for receiving.

This is Precious at Ram Tap circa 1990's

Today we leave for the last and final Ram Tap Horse Trials.  I have been going to Fresno several times a year for the past thirty some odd years for this event.  My spouse, who had a privelaged and sumptuouis upbringing, evented here as a tyke and can remember when you got brownie points on cross country for going really fast.  Still, the event was well established before Stevie was even born.  So it ends on Sunday.  Another eventing institution, good, bad or indifferent, gone gone gone.

On that up note,

Galaxy XC at Ram Tap circa 2006

Cheers,

Squidgy

Didja miss me?

I have had a very busy summer.  Not much of it was good, sadly.  Last we spoke I'd been to the fair with the grand off spring.  Three days later I was in North Carolina.  My mother-in-law (Mary) had surgery and as Steve was in the middle of his annual fair deal at Solano Co. I was elected to be the family in situ.    The long and short of it was a diagnosis of stage 4 cancer on July 29 and a very short time till Mary Frances Libby Hales passed away on September 16.  God Speed Mary.

It was a difficult time for everyone, but the days spent with Mary were extraordinary.  I wouldn't trade that time with her for anything.  Steve was able to come out during the recuperation and we three spent a lot of time laughing and remembering.  We left North Carolina on August 14 and returned in a hurry on September 7.  And well you know what eventually happened.

A word about Hospice.  I hope none of you ever have a loved one who needs Hospice.  But Hospice Facilities are a refuge and while the usual out come is the passing of a life, the atmosphere is not dreary or depressing.  Somehow the feeling is one of acceptance of death and not resignation to it.  You learn, or I did anyway, that death is a part of life and the journey does not have to be one of sadness and angst.  Steve, his sister, Sandra and I spent many hours with Mary during that last week.  I don't remember many tears but do remember a lot of reminisces and laughter.  The hospice nurses told us that even though Mary was not participating in the conversations and stories, she could hear what we were saying and we talked to her constantly.  At times we could tell something made an impact, or at least we like to think so.  The nurses and aids were without fail kind and willing to share their experiences.  They were not afraid to let us know what certain things meant when breathing patterns changed, or the skin felt cold, or there were weird sounds.  It's all a part of it.  My own parents both died quite suddenly and I wish I could have had the few weeks with them that I had with my mother-in-law. 

A word about post death.  Funeral homes are creepy.  The voices used there are hushed and intended to be comforting.  I just wanted to ask them to speak normally.  And get rid of the unfortunate wall paper border in the "room".  Basically funeral homes serve an unpleasant duty.  And they are paid handsomely.  The funeral directors have had very little time with the deceased and while I'm sure they are trying to be respectful, the usual feeling is not one of true compassion.  If they have had any interaction with the departed, it was to exalt the virtues of this service ($cha-ching) and that ($cha-ching) in order to "make it easier on the survivors"..  ($$$ching ching ching)  Hooey.  They go under the heading, "gross jobs I'd never do in a heart beat".  I was most uncomfortable with the breakdown of charges rendered for the appliances used during the storage of the body, the cremation, how much a death certificate costs and especially the fees for running an obituary.  I understand the funeral home is not responsible for the costs charged the family to run an obituary in a newspaper, but they are the messengers and you know what happens to them...The San Francisco Chronicle wanted over $1000.00 to run Mary's obituary.  The Monterrey Herald charged $100 for the same article.  It is fairly gross how institutions and people (clergy included BTW) take advantage of the family of the deceased.  Emotions are high and judgement is poor as a rule.  So if you saw the death notice of Mary Hales in the SF Chronicle and thought it was short, that is why.  While all the funeral home stuff was deeply weird, perhaps the most onerous part of the whole post death scenarios had to be the church stuff.  Mary planned the whole service, which in itself is morbid.  She also made several handsome bequests to her beloved Holy Cross Church over the course of time.  When it came to the interment of her cremains, it became clear that no interment would be happening until the hostages ponied up I mean the  priest and deacon were paid their tithe.  I believe the tithes totalled over $800.00.  Hallelujah! 

In the middle of the North Carolina trips I went to England for 18 days.  I love England.  Love the food, the weather, the small streets, the little villages and the people.  I had the opportunity to go to Burghley  for the Horse Trials and as ever, it was a fantastic event.  The best riders in the world competed and it was a privilege to watch them go.  I had some friends competing too,  especially one of my favorite people in the world,  Kate Hicks.  She was there with her mother, husband, adorable son and a few friends.  In spite of the challenges of competing, Kate was a star and gracious to all.  She did not have the best competition score wise, but at the end of the day she finished the most difficult horse trials in the world and never let her nerves get the best of her.  She remembered her dressage test, jumped cleanly around the cross country course and finished the show jumping in good order. She braided her own horse and pitched in with all the day to day stuff of caring for a horse and accepted that some days the competition was not her to win.  She didn't blame anyone for her scores and was pleased with her performances.  She was a happy and positive force in our barn aisle.  I love you Katie.

So that was my summer. How was yours?  Oh, I almost forgot, we have a new dawg.  We adopted Mary's chihuahua, Lili and brought her home with us.  I know quite a few of you know my precious baby Emma the killer of all that moves.  We were very concerned that Emma would see Lili for what she really is, a barking squirrel.  But from the start and from the safety of her Southwest approved dawg carrier, Lili put Emma in her place immediately.  When they were allowed to meet face to face, little Lili growled and snapped at Emma and just confounded her.  They are romping in the back yard as I write this.  Lili loves me and I am Emma's personal person, so every now and again there are some territory issues, but I believe all is and will continue to be peaceful, well as peaceful as can be with two Jack Russells and a Southern Belle.

Cheers and thanks for letting me share,

Squidgy

Oh, hello there. How you been? (como frijole)

So I've been pretty busy.  For me.  For instance I did make the trip up to Washington state a couple months ago.  It rained.
Then I went to Woodland.  It was hot.
Then I went to Carmel Valley.  With Kristi. 
Then I went to Carmel Valley again.  Alone and over stayed as usual
Then I came home for two days.
Then I went to Sonoma for ten days.  It was hot.  And tiring.
Then I went to Woodland for one day.  It was still hot.
Now I'm home.  Whoopee.

Also in that riveting agenda, my old daughter, Alison, came home with the good grandchild.  We went to the State Fair.  We also went with the young daughter and her offspring and the middle daughter who just looked glamorous.  Who looks glamorous at the fair?  It's a little demoralizing.  She didn't stay long.  Not that we don't love her, but we didn't glam up for the day.  However, we did look a little more put together than 99.9% of our fellow (and I gag a little) fair goers.  Gads, am I turning in to a snob?  gasp.

The young daughters three off spring are old enough to run away from you at the fair.  It would appear that this is not a good thing.  So each child had to pick a grown up to be its person.  Jack either picked or got me.  That's OK because we spent a lot of time picking up crawdads from the trough containing same.  So they have this exhibit which all about the water and the things that live in it.  One of those things is the mighty crawdad/crayfish or what ever.  For the uninitiated they look a lot like swimming scorpions with no stinger.  They do, however, have nasty claws and pincers with which they will pinch their enemies and maim their fellows.  This last was evidenced by the unsettling number of crawdads sporting one or none pincers and the remains of those pincers scattered on the bottom of the tank.  Vicious little brutes.  We were talking about catching them weren't we?  Mr. Jack was the crocodile hunter of the day and he modestly told me he'd picked up all of the prehistoric creatures and released them.  relief  As if to prove it to himself, he proceeded to pick up all of them again.  Did I mention there were at least a hundred in the tank?  May be not.  He forced my hand open allowed me to hold the baby ones.  Super neat.

Then we petted the sturgeon.  For a long time.  I wonder if there's a way to skin them and use the skin for say a summer weight jacket?  It's really velvety.  We practiced our steer roping skills, well perhaps skills isn't the best descriptor, but let it be known we were there for a long time.  Alison came along during this event and proclaimed that everything was wrong from the type of rope to the direction the steers head was placed.  I had to churry her along before she changed everything.  She always was a bossy little thing.   I was also in charge of the super sized baby stroller.  It was roughly the size of a giant SUV and about as handy.  Needless to say I was not a good driver and manged to run over a lot of toes and bashed in to quite a few things and people.  I'll never see those folks again so I guess I'm OK with it.  And that, dear reader, is why I have so few friends.  Or any.  Will you be my friend?  I thought so.

I was discussing the fair.  But I guess I hit the highlights.  Sorry.  Nothing really interesting happened.  Megan brought us lunch so we did not devour fair food which was a little disappointing as we were all jonesing for corn dogs.  But we looked self important eating our edamame and healthy organic salads.  Then I polished that off with a fried Snickers and thereby captured all the food groups.   I also bought  a fried Twinkie, but just didn't have the heart for it.  Sadness.  Suffice it to say there was ample (and I do mean ample) people watching to enjoy, though Megan and Alison screeching at me to stop staring really ruined my rhythm.  What's a girl to do?  They need some elder care sensitivity training.  Elder Abuse Abounds!

I spent a week, plus some, in Carmel Valley.  The lord and lady of the manor scooted off to Bromont and I was in charge of the horses.  Six horses.  One had the nastiest sarcoma on its ear.  It looked like a mushroom only it bled and needed to be treated, gross.  When Bea came home we wrapped a bunch of rubber bands around it and lo and behold! it fell off after a while.  I wasn't there for the delivery, but I hear it was a successful separation.  Now, I am...a surgeon. Praise Be.

I also spent an idyllic (not) ten days in Sonoma house and horse sitting for our favorite...Horse Show Mom.  This job almost didn't happen due to an extreme misunderstanding of what I charge per day, which is non-negotiable.  I like to think I don't need the money, but that is a fallacy, just ax Steve.  But I can't/won't work for peanuts either.  At any rate we came to terms and I took myself off to whine country.  Normally I clean a few stalls, maybe ride, maybe not, feed, change blankets, lunge, watch tee vee, medicate (see previous paragraph) and the like.  For our little tight wad I mean HSM my day went something like this:

7:00a  Arise, feed two dawgs, two fish, one rat, one cat and a bearded dragon.

7:01a  Leave for barn (leave earlier if possible)

7:25a  Arrive at barn having burned up 13.5 miles

7:26a  Determine who is getting turned out and try to remember who can be next to who, who can't be in the first turnout or the last, fill water troughs up, roll hose back up, forget to turn water off.  Race back to turn water off.  Collapse in office with the flies.

7:30a  Contemplate life and listlessly sweep office out

8:00a  Decide to ride. 

8:30a Decide who to ride

9:00a  Groom and tack up horse

9:15a  Have urgent need to pee

9:20a  Get on horse and hack around and do something like dressage or just plain flopping around depending on who you are

10:20a Get off, untack, hose horse off, move horses in paddocks around, refill waters, turn other horses out  (see 7:26a) put the ridden horse away, select next victim.

11:20p  Tack up, ride, untack, hose off and put away victim #2

12:20p  Decide lunging is a good option for next horse.

12:45p  Groom horse, select lunging equipment, fiddle with lunging bridle, fiddle some more, wander around looking for fly spray, sho sheen, hoof oil etc

1:45p  Take horse to lunging arena and chase it around both directions until bored.

1:46p JK 2:10p  Take horse back to barn.  Horse is recalcitrant and has developed deep seated fear of the barn, the mats, the wash rack, water, hoses, but sadly, not me

3:30p  Finally get horse hosed off in wash rack, braid mane over, drink about 4 gallons of water put horse away.

4:30p  Have to pee

4:35p  Select easy horse to ride, tack up, get on , hack around, go in to arena, horse freaks out at the music coming from the many speakers placed all around on arena fence and has hissy fit.  Contemplate carne asada caballo.  Hold temper.  Get one good trip around arena each direction and get back to the barn, untack, grudgingly hose horse off and even more grudgingly put it away.

6:00p  Prepare evening meals for the horses, meticulously adhering to each horses specific diet and studiously memorize the amount to feed of each ingredient, figure out supplements, water everything down and, with a flourish, present each custom meal to each horse.  Bon Apetit'

7:00p Leave barn. 

7:10p  Remember phone is still at barn.  Retrace steps, waste gas and time.

7:30p  Leave barn again and travel another 13.5 mile back to HSM's house.  Eat a sandwich.  Feed dawgs again, check the food and water for the cat, make sure rat, fish and dragon have not expired.

8:00p  Take shower and go to bed with wet hair.  Gross

8:15p  Remember that I forgot to water all the semi growing stuff in back yard.  Get up, crossly, and splash water around, step in dawg doo, become enraged, wash feet, turn off water, mutter invectives to dawgs and lock them in prison in the garage for the night.

9:30p Go back to bed.  Still chuffed and out of sorts.  Have weird dreams.

Repeat for next nine days.  And develop a rash.  One that won't go away.  Gross

It makes me tired all over again just thinking about it.  I must select a cocktail now and relax with the teevee remote and catch up on Dance Moms for a bit.

Cheers,

Squidgy

Farmer girl

I have discovered my inner farmer.  I planted a bunch of doomed flowers and plants yesterday.  It's anyone's guess how long they will survive.  But for the moment all is beauty and life.  And I have dirt under my fingernails.  And the dog is busy at this very moment either digging up my flowery children or eating the hose.  That too is anyone's guess.  It doesn't really matter, for tomorrow I take my little self off to Petaluma to be in charge at the highnesses digs.  And everything will perish in my absence which is somewhat better than having them die in my presence because now I can blame Steve.  sucka

Nothing has prepared me for the carnage I am expecting to find there.  Her highness called the other day to share the days grossness with yours truly.  (really?)  It seems the black birds at the rancho have nothing better to do other than commit suicide in the water troughs.  She told me she's fished as many as 7 or 8 birds a day out, most of them dead, but some dying.  In any case she tenderly (lol) puts their little wet bodies in the bushes where miraculously they are revived and fly off to join their bretheren.  Just kidding.  What's really  happening is the crows are swooping down and whisking the desperate, dead and dying off to become part of the days ala carte menu.  Her highness found this to be  terrible and currently she hates the crows.  I have no particular fondness for birds, but I'm thinking at least someone is tidying up besides you or me.  Then because I wasn't grossed out enough she regaled me with the tale of the vultures (CA condors) dropping their carrion in an empty paddock where they then invited all their kin over for a big ole nosh.  The crows were invited too, but had to wait for everyone else to finish before they were allowed to clean up, if you will.  I think I've been to that party.

So I am really looking forward to this visit.  On Saturday the royalty will buzz back up to Petaluma from their horse show to attend a high school graduation party.  They have included me too.  Since when are adolts invited to high school grad parties?  Why my own grad party  was cloaked in such secrecy that there were more than thirty layers of subterfuge to go through to even find it.  Naturally it was such a great time I remember nothing of it.  I do remember walking home in the morning from somewhere.  Never mind.  So the mother of the grad is French so the food should be good and I know them so anything I do under the influence will be expected and nothing I do should be any more embarrassing than usual.  Little upsides.

The old daughter and her little family visited last week.  I finally got my grubby paws on the youngest Grand Off Spring and I don't mind telling you he is THE cutest baby in the world.  And very happy and laughs a lot.  I take all the credit for his good looks and temperament.  The parents don't agree, but I just ignore them.  And you should too.  The real reason the little family came to California was to attend a wedding that I was not invited to.  This meant that I could babysit the three old grandchildren...again.  But first we got to spend all day at the Sacramento Train Museum.  I'm sure baby Sam from New Mexico will savor those memories forever.  He is, after all, seven months old.  Then we all, and by all I mean the three daughters of moi, the four grandchildren and one son-in-law had lunch.  Naturally one of the four grands had a pseudo melt down and had to be rewarded for that by having a present bestowed upon him in the form of a bow and arrow set.  You're welcome Megan.  I bought little presents for his siblings as well.  While Mila liked her jewelry box, though she wanted to repaint it, Silas had a tantrum about the darling train I gave him and wanted Jacks weapon instead.  Jack and I high fived it because we know that sharing is for losers.  We bought Steve a snow globe.  If you are ever in a position to scratch your head puzzling over what gift would be appropriate to give my spouse, you can never go wrong with a snow globe.  He can put them on the window sill of the state run extended care home that I will put him in when the time comes.    I am so funny.  And I am cracking up just now.

I have been invited to drive up to Washington State with my little friend Kristi week after next.  Yes, Kristi I'll go, but I am wondering about my sanity.  Why does it always sound like such a great idea to go on a road trip, then spend a long weekend freezing or broiling and walking and scurrying about?  Because that part is fun.  Then you have to drive home.  That part always sucks.  Always.  Kristi is one of the best traveling companions because you can whine and cry and badger and carry on and she thinks you're kidding.  And she can whine and cry and badger and carry on and I think she's kidding too.  What this means is we are two old bags let loose on the world without a cognizant thought between the two of us.  Why we have ever made to where we were going together is anyone's guess, but we always have fun.

For instance, there was the time we thought it would be a good idea to go to the Fair Hill Three Day Event in Maryland one year.  We left from Sacramento planning to end up in the city of Brotherly Love via Houston.  So far so good.  Once our flight stopped in Houston  it seemed prudent to go have a couple of cocktails.  Then, because we were buzzed and neither of us knew the real time our flight was to leave, we thought it would be good idea to have another cocktail and some food.   Long story short?  At some point we figured out our plane was leaving at that moment and we were in a bar/restaurant miles away.  So we hauled buns dragging all our stuff through the airport, where all the guys with the fast little go carts ignored us, and we arrived at our gate just as they closed the doors.  And you know no matter how much you cry and beg and harangue and argue there is no way in hell they are opening those damn doors for you.  Frustrated and by this time somewhat sober we had to finangle a flight to Philly that night.

The travel Gods took pity and we managed to wheedle our way on to a flight to Baltimore where we rented a snazzy little Mustang and drove up to the Philadelphia International Airport.  We weren't planning to go to Philly at all but you see our luggage was sober and straight at the airport in Houston -  so it did get on the original flight.  Now we had to drive to yet another airport to reclaim our luggage.  And we hadn't actually had any meaningful sleep.  At that time of night, no I mean morning it doesn't really matter how long of a trip from point A to point B it is, it is way tooooooooooooo long.  But we arrived in Philly, managed to discover the whereabouts of the airport and then discovered that no one was in charge of lost luggage.  And no one would be for  many hours from the time we presented ourselves.  Pretty much there is nothing more desperate than a large airport in the predawn hours when you have too much adrenaline going, too little sleep and no prospect of a solution to your woes.  So finally, much, much later, we collected our belongings and took ourselves off to Fair Hill.  I think we were ok that first day, who knows?  But the following day when it was pissing rain and everything that resembled dirt became an unpleasant mire I lost the car keys to the cute little Mustang.  And then we discovered that if you live in Maryland the only neighborhood you know is the block you live on and maybe the way to work.  But under no circumstances would you ever know how to get to Elkton, MD much less Fair Hill.  I know this because I dispatched no fewer than six tow trucks to come to my aid and not one of them found the place.  And I felt that I should stay with the car on the off chance that one of those mouth breathers should actually find me and rescue the car etc.  What this meant is I missed all of the cross country sitting in the rain and Kristi knew better than to hang out with me while I was sulking and pouting.  Anticlimax you say?  The keys got found and we made good our escape in time to catch our flight home.  Amen.  Oh and we crashed the competitors party which was a dud.  And we were excused from the Patrons tent for not have the right credentials.  Great trip.

While we were chatting just now, the dawg ate the hose.  I just thought you should know.  Oh, and the hose was running because I forgot to turn it off while I was over-soaking one of the newly planted plants.  Don't quit your day job sweet cheeks.

I think I've entertained you enough for one day.  Feel free to re-read this tomorrow.  Nothing will have changed except you will be another day older and uh deeper in debt.

Cheers,

Squidgy