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

Where do I begin?

Since we last chatted both the Rolex 3-day Event and the Kentucky Derby have come and gone.  April and May are big horse months in my world albeit from a safe distance.  No surprise that the British rider Wm. Fox-Pitt took home the trophy from Rolex for the second time.  Those Brits seriously know how to get the job done.  Which is not to take anything from Alison Springer, but I'll bet she's kicking herself for the long option on xc or that bloody rail in show jumping.  Kudos to the live coverage on the USET network.  Athena and I enjoyed rehashing the daily results with a little concoction I call Mothers Milk;  vodka, cranberry juice and ruby red grapefruit juice.  Don't stop at just one. :-)

My friend Kristi came home  from her three month jaunt to the east coast to event with the big whigs. .  She rode and finished at Rolex too.  Currently she is my personal hero, well one anyway, she prefers to be the only one so there you go.   Something like 27 riders did not finish out of 58 starters.  We had a celebratory lunch to um celebrate.  We had whine with lunch. Now we plan to hang out. 

Famous people I know who got to go to the Derby

The Kentucky Derby.  I can't even believe the finish.  What the h***?  Thank heavens I was able to turn the calendar from April and a big ole picture of Union Rags to last years Derby winner Animal Kingdom who, while not my pick, definitely has a cool name.  But "I'll Have Another"  and it was for a cookie?  Gimme a break.  My faves were (in order) Union Rags, Gemologist or Bodemeier and Hansen.  Big fat heavy sigh.  Only Bodemeier did what he was supposed to do in my opinion.  Wish I'd have the nerve to bet on a 40-1 longshot.  I'd be riiiiiiiiiiiiiich.  Daughter Lindsey came over to watch and enjoy a bright pink cocktail with her mamma.  She picked her choices by saddle cloth color.  As it turns out her method was as good as any.  To add insult to injury, the cocktail of the vibrant hue wasn't even that good.  So I was pretty pleased that I personally squeezed the lemons and oranges for juice and used up some valuable vodka. >:-(    Vodka Flinch?  Never mind.

I  successfully survived a week long house sitting in idyllic Carmel Valley.  There were five horses to pester.  And I managed to  stay healthy.  And I managed to attend two dinners, one party, and entertained at the casa.  All in all a most satisfying week.  Oh right I also cleaned stalls, scrubbed out automatic waterers, raked, groomed, rode, fed and all the while I played at hostess to two of Bea's cousins.  The daughter cousin ran in the Big Sur marathon on the Sunday.   Her feet hurt afterwards.  But she finished and that is major (majah).  Were that I was so inspired...alas not. But I am in awe of her.  If you're reading this Bea, pass on my accolades.

I also picked up a minor case of poison oak.  Think it came from one of the dogs.  I hate poison oak.  I have no anti itch will power and so have made a right mess of my arm.  Plus there is a rather suspicious patch of something on my face.  FYI  Technu does wonders...Just that I'm a wimp.

So we were subjected to an inspection by the property manager this morning.  I spent Saturday  in the jockey position behind the lawn mower.  And I spent all of Sunday cleaning.   I stopped short of shampooing the carpet but I did engage not one but two vacuum cleaners and even made a swipe at the windows before coming to my senses.  So that took all day and when the inspector came to inspect what did she look at?  Under the sinks.  Where did I not clean?  Under the sinks.   Something tells me I should not bet on anything this month.

I will, however, recommend Leon Russell and Elton John on the Union album to you.  You're welcome.  I went to see Joe Cocker in concert back in my desperate youth only because of Mad Dogs and Englishmen and the expectation that Leon Russell would be with him. Instead we just watched a sweaty JC spazz out on stage.  No Leon.  sigh  On a similar note I also saw Alice Cooper in concert.  Maybe I should stay away from concerts too?

So I spent a couple days with Horse Show Mom.  Yup, and drank Margarita's.  And spent the night, a wise decision BAC* wise, but not a popular choice with the spouse as I had pledged not to spend the night in pastoral Sonoma.  But best laid plans and all that.  I'll bet he wasn't in the least bit surprised I didn't come home.  So I spent the night in the office/spare/ cat room at the manse of HSM**.  I say cat room because not to be content with two Jack Russells the family has now adopted a cat of dubious character.  I think it might me Emo if it were a person, with a serious cutting problem. It is all black with orange eyes, which is a sure sign of instability.  And it plays with you while you try to sleep, oh and drinks your water out of your glass in the middle of the night - loudly.  Well loud enough to wake me up and I can sleep through B-52's flying overhead all the time.  Awesome.  HSM needs a new house with a separate guest quarters/cottage so I might slumber in solitude.  Perhaps you'd like to drop her a text and explain why that would be a good idea?  Thanks so much.

It's a pacifier.

Eldest daughter and family will be dropping in a for a brief visit next week.  I am allotted roughly 10 or 15 minutes with them as they will be busy.  I will be stalwart and mature about not having  an adequate amount of time to warp spend a great deal of quality time with the youngest grandchild.  But you would be surprised how much you can get done in a short time frame if you put your mind to it. 

So while I was in Carmel Valley the spouse called and wanted to know if I'd paid the registration on his truck as he just got around to noticing that he did not have a current registration.  So I said I have no idea at all if I paid it or not why don't you call DMV and find out?  And he said I should call DMV and find out.  So rather than get in to a big old fuss about it I call DMV and with an extraordinary amount of pressing of this and that on the phone pad finally learned that I would need the info from the old registration card such as VIN#, license # and other stuff that I did not have handy but the spouse would have handy if he went out to the truck to look.   The phone maze stuff at DMV then told me it would be some kind of huge wait to talk to the one person in the universe who could help, but if I left my name and phone number someone/something would call back within 15 minutes.  That sounded like a great idea so I left Steve's name and mobile number.  Then I  sent Steve a text with that info, told him DMV would call him within 15 minutes so he should go get last years registration card to have it handy and to answer the phone because all of this was a pain in the ass for me as he well knows.  I know you know how this ends but let's just read on, shall we?  About five days later I get a call from Steve wanting to know what this babbling text message about registration and DMV calling and whatnot was all about.  And I said, oh, too bad you don't actually read your texts from me because you're too busy getting scratched by your cat and watching YouTube videos at work to pay any attention to any info. I have for you in the form of text messages blah blah blah.  Well I'll just tell you right now that this went over like a fart in church because we were stalemated at this point.  I cooled down after a very long while and when I came home I went online to the DMV website and discovered the registration had not been paid and we now owed like $70 more on it, so I paid it online, with insufficient funds no doubt, and here we sit.  So here's what I have to offer.  I'm old, I hate details, I can barely survive getting myself around without help (something for the children to look forward to) so why in the name of all that is holy, would anyone in their right mind expect me to remember paying a registration?  Because you know that $70 late fee?  That fee could have been a pretty cute pair of shoes, but now I have to go to Target to get shoes and it's upsetting.

To that end I have just sent an email to my children with a list of stuff I must have.  I think that they should be madly scrambling around on the internet to make my wishes come true because the awful fact is I can be pouty.  If you can't get on the Lands End, Garnet Hill, Dooney &Bourke or Brooks Brothers websites it is because they are making todays dreams come true.  Sunday is Mothers Day.  You only have one so spoil her if you can.  Or me because I have beautiful manners thanks to my mother and I will say thank you.

Cheerio
Squidgy
*BAC:  blood alcohol count
**HSM:  Horse Show Mom

Bucket List

We had to put our dog, Carlos, down this past weekend.  Granted he was old and sick, but the void he left is taking some real adjusting.  We got Carlos from a breeder in Sebastopol in January, 1999.  As are all Jack Russells, he was an adorable puppy, and like all Jack Russells had an understanding of how his world should be organized.  He was named for Carlos the Jackal.  My fondest memory of him as a puppy is being tucked in the crook of Steve's arm, under loads of jacket and sweaters, driving a massive tractor around in the freezing cold.  He was meant to be my dog,  but from the start he chose Steve and there was never a closer bond of boy and dog.  He was a fearsome ground squirrel killer and managed to dispatch as many as ten a day on a good day.  He like to shared his um meals with Steve when he could.  He also deposited a squirrel in daughter Alison's car which then was parked for two weeks in the sun.  It was a rather pungent surprise for her when she came home.  Little tyke.  He was very territorial and all who were not approved were the enemy.  Most folks were not approved.  Katie, I hope you are paying attention.  He was partial to the back turned then assault.  But a few were treated to full on aggression.  If you showed fear he was on the offensive in a trice.  If you saw straight through him, all but a few did, he was the sweetest little serial killer you've ever known.  He had a mentor in Barnaby the fox hound.  Barnaby was also fearless and a great protector of hearth and home and any other place he happened to be.  He was also the great varmint hunter, in particular the hunter of the wily coyote!  He would hunt with little Carlos and when he came upon a pack of the coyote trespassers he would come at a full gallop to them and literally bowl the pack over.  Then Carlos would bark and snap till the interlopers were sent on their way.  You could see him literally dusting his paws off when the enemy was sent packing.  In the past three years he's been pretty ill and eventually lost his eyesight completely due to complications of diabetes.  But he stoically managed until suddenly the other night it all became too much for him and he let us know the time had come.  Rest in Peace Carlos.  10/25/1998 - 4/14/2012.  You were a fine little dog.

It has been a pretty rough few days in my life with Carlos and Amy Tryon both passing suddenly.  I have been left with a pretty big empty spot in my heart/soul whatever that threatens to become tears in unsuspected moments.  But naturally it seems prudent to make a bucket list cause stuff happens and you/I should have filled as many moments as you/I have left with stuff to do.

• Go to the Kentucky Derby.  And if possible the Preakness and Belmont as well.
• Visit Connecticut, New Hampshire, Maine and Rhode Island.
• Go to Badminton and Burghley and Gatcombe again.
• Go to Rolex again
• Visit the south of France
• Touch a snake, (for Gods sake why?)
• Have another horse to compete
• Go to Bermuda, Aruba and Puerto Rico.  And if possible to do that from a good sized sail boat with a load of friends.
• Insist that my funeral arrangements be a nice long boat trip out on the ocean and a burial at sea.  That is a real and honest wish.  You may have KD Lang along to sing "Hallelujah".  I'm sure she's not busy.  I would also like it very much if everyone who goes out for the final voyage misbehaves and shows unimaginable immaturity.  Thanks in advance
• Wear a size 6 again.
• Most of all I want to keep all my family near.  And all my friends, both of you, in my life.  And btw I have some openings for new friends as well.  

That should be a good start.  Carpe Diem


Cheers,
Squidgy

A virtual mish mash

So this is the creepiest tattoo I've ever, I mean EVER seen.  Not that I make it a habit to study tattoos, but, well, anyway I couldn't keep it to myself.  Good thing I have y'all to share with.

Specifically this issue is for #3 son-in-law who whined that-
1.) the blog is too long...um not possible slacker
and
2.) There aren't any pictures.  Um this is a picture
And thanks for the asparagus Farmer Boy, it was derishes with Parmesan and oil roasted in the oven.  yum
Sorry there aren't any pictures of that, food pix bug me as I have stated on Face Book.  Not that anyone paid any attention.

Hi There!  How was your Easter? The bald guy at the grocery store had his head painted like an Easter egg.  It seems he's had it done for the past eight years running.  What happened at your market?

We have a week more of rain to look forward to starting tomorrow, joy.  We're heading off to  Fresno (again) on Thursday night and so far the forecast is for rain on Friday and sunny rain on Saturday.  I say sunny rain because that's what it looks like on the weather app on my phone.  Who is the person who designs the whatever they're called pictures for apps anyway?  I have a hard time believing, "Hey!  That's a GREAT picture!  Let's use it for sunny rain.  You go nerd!"

I read other peoples blogs over the weekend.  You know who you are, that interview with Ollie Townends brain monkey slayed me.  You may find it on Eventing Nation. 

That picture creeps me out.  Strangely, the eyebrows look those of one of my cousins and he's not even a serial killer that we know of.

look up

Happy Birthday Sue!  I left you a message on FB.  So, Sue, your horse is a rock star!  yeah you!  and Linda?  what can I say?  I am honored your horse friended me on FB!  You non horsie types?  yes, we really talk like this.  sorry.  If it makes you feel any better my #$%^&* dawgs have Face Book  or rather dog book pages.  Yeah, well?  Here's a picture of the dawgs.  They look guilty because they are guilty.  This picture is titled "Dawgs and a dead flower"  Pretty snazzy eh?   It could also be entitled "You've stolen my soul"  except their souls are black and mostly rotted, really not worth stealing.  :-)


I figured out Pinterest yesterday.  And because it's annoying I've started following other peoples Pinterest pages.  Basically what Pinterest is is a virtual pin board (bored)  where you "pin" stuff you find whilst screwing around on the Internet or whilst stalking other peoples Pinterest boards.  Once you have happened upon an image of something you like or are intrigued by,  then you can "pin" or "repin" the images on your own board (bored).  If you're as clever as I, you can have many boards.  Mine are labeled Horse Stuff, House Stuff, Family Stuff, Weird Stuff, Clothes Stuff, Hair Stuff and it's mostly all either lovely or strange...or both.  Mostly both.  Lots of really cool people are following me.  Are you?  What does that mean?

Chicken and Dumplings for dinner.  Really?  Delicious.  Comforting.  Homie. lol  Dying to say that all day.

"Words With Friends" has taken over my life.  I have about eight or nine games going  right now.  I'm not clever.  I just throw letters at the board with the fervent hope that they will make a word that is acceptable and also hope to hit bonus squares.  It is the secret to my success.  I get beat all the time.  BTW Satan and bitched were not accepted.  WTF but neither was wrad which would have scored a lot of points but there you go.


So, in an effort to be frugal and other stupid stuff, I went to a stylist for a haircut based solely on the recommendation of some woman who was in front of me in line at the market.  Her hair looked awesome.  So I said, "Um excuse me, your hair looks terrific.  Do you mind telling me who cuts it?"  and she smiled a little condescendingly and said, "I geet eet cut by Errrrrasmosssss."  and I said, "what?"  and she rolled her eyes and said "Errrrrasmosss,  I ave been having eet cut by heem forrrr pipteen yearrrrs.  I don' eben tell heeem what to do any more."  and another smile.  Somewhat intimidated by now, I may too have rolled my eyes and said, "is he/she/it local?"  and she said "hee iz the best stylist in the world"  or something like that.  So I wound up the conversation by axing if she had his number and she did and she gave it to me and I called and made an appointment.  Let me just cut (ha ha gittit?) to the chase.  I went, we discussed Mexico, the fact that the lady in the store was from Puerto Rico, and that he'd never even sat on a horse.  What ever.  So the whole time he wasss cutting away and I was, as usual,  scrupulously not paying attention to the snipping of hairs and finally I was cut, blown dry and out the door and my hair looked if not great, then certainly good enough.  That is till I tried my own personal magic wherein I washed and styled it myself and discovered to my horror that what I really had was a combination mullet and Moe from the 3-stooges style.  I am not happy.  Now what this really means is that I have to call Tiffany, who has "done" my hair for over five years and whom I should never, ever, ever forsake.  And I shall have to grovel until she agrees to fix this mess and take poetic license of her own bend to repair the damage.  She will spend a good deal of time not telling me what an unfaithful b**** I am but making that point unnervingly plain.  Let this be a lesson to all y'all.  Don't piss your hair stylist off.  Don't tread in unfamiliar waters.  Be true.  I'm the one in the hat till she agrees to see me and she may make me wait a while just to make her point crystal clear.  I'm sad.

Another chapter down the tubes.  Do as I say not as I do.  That will always be the best course.
Cheers,

Squidgy

Waiting for Nothing

I'm in a funk.  My cute little car decided to do a bunk and in order to reestablish itself to its usual good natured reliability, it required new tires plus an additional $3000.00 worth of work.  If I house sit for the rest of my life I might be able to repay the loan established to get those repairs done.  On the upside, the car handles so much better now that the shuddering and shaking is gone.  Sort of like going through a 12 step program or methadone therapy or something.  sigh

I swear its true.  The youngest daughter requested my valuable child rearing skills again last Saturday so she and her beloved could go fraternize with friends and drink too much and whatnot.  This time no one melted down until well in to the third hour of my vigilance.  And then only for a little while, though I must say being told to "Leave me alone" from a four year old kinda sucks.  Sadly, the mother did not think it a good idea to prepare a nourishing and healthy meal before she hightailed is outta there. No, she left that little detail to yours truly.  I must be still a little on the defensive from when I used to feed my own brood when they were young and having them tell me that everything was disgusting and so and so won't eat anything green and another so and so won't eat brown stuff the other so and so would only eat processed food.  I used to have frequent nervous break downs and go to my room for a self imposed "time outs".  Anyway, so I was faced with the daunting task of feeding the grand offspring.  The mother suggested hot dawgs.  All I can say is at least they weren't some tofu inspired soy substitute uselessness.  If you are of the leaning to enjoy such stuff, well bully, but hot dawgs are meant to be suspect in their content and that's that.  So anyway I also decided the little darlings should have something green so I nuked broccoli (little trees btw), stuffed sticks through the dawgs for Mila and Silas, squished ketchup on their plates and did not stuff sticks into Jacks, but prepared for him a multi-grain sprouted something or other bun with only mustard, bon apetit" or what ever.  And they ate!  Even the green stuff.  good deal.

I also got to supervise the darlings yesterday!  Do I look like a nanny?  Or even a good person?  Someone should contact the authorities.  In any case I treated the darlings to frozen yogurt with three toppings and then took them off to a park so they could run off the sugar ingested from gummie bears, marshmallows and mini M&M's.  Swell.  So they ran around and gamboled and I studiously ignored any grievous misbehaviour and tried not to think of all the germs that had to be breeding rampantly on the swings and stuff and just closed my eyes to the backed up water fountain that ALL the children were using.  Parks are gross.  The mother arrived, the girl child had a freak out and I left.

I had the opportunity to go to WalMart after my park stint.  You should be particular which WalMart you frequent.  No really.  You should.  Barring that perhaps just not going to WalMart is OK too.  None the less, off to WalMart I went with the sole purpose of buying syringes for the @#%^& dawg who requires twice daily insulin injections.  And some fascinating people watching.   Have you received copies of the WalMart shoppers email?  Tasteful shots of some folks who have no access to a mirror.  It makes its way around annually.  But back to my personal experience, yesterdays winner was the plus sized woman in a HUGE leopard print Sari or something all in black and yellow and gold with a matching (not) head scarf in an understated fluorescent pink shade.  Eyes watering, I made my way to the nearest exit.  You can't leave WalMart in a hurry because then the store police assume you have "borrowed" stuff.  The exit walk has to be fairly precise.  I was safe because I only had one item and I had a receipt for it.  Thank God.  You know I've seen three shoplifting take downs at my neighborhood market in the last year.  I've lived in some pretty shady areas in my life and Vacaville is certainly not the worst of the worst, but three take downs at a relatively upscale market?  Either they have no sense of humor with theft or Safeway just builds  thievery into its working budget.  What say you?  Maybe I just need a life.

None of my valuable work opportunities panned out last weekend.  I had (count them) three gigs to choose from and not even one came to fruition.  See paragraph one.

I've resumed my gym attendance.  In fact I was supposed to go to a yogalates class this morning, but I forgot.  They have new recumbent bikes.  So usually I sit on one of them and pedal furiously for a time and listen to a book and play Mah Jong or Words w/Frenemies.  That way time goes faster and I can ignore the weird little ancient man in the black Adidas who always shuffles in after me and always sits on a bike next to me and pretends to read the paper.  creepy.  The other day I decided to incorporate some weights and other machine torture to my routine and the creepy guy followed me in there as well. ew.  Someone take pity on my and treat me to a nice full body liposuction so I can be safe.  Really.

OK, so I've read the Hunger Games and the sequels.  Go ahead and read them.  But basically the message is Government is bad and corrupt.  Revolution happens.  There are losers, they are punished.  And there are winners.  They might be bad.  Brand new shiny Government is  formed.  Government is bad and corrupt.  Good is bad.  Bad is good.  Rinse, repeat.  You're welcome.

What else am I reading?  Rick Riordan and the Tres Navarre series.  Irreverent private investigator in San Antonio.  Yup Pulitzer material, and entertaining.  Evidently he also writes some fantasy, sci fi stuff, but I don't hang with that genre usually,  so I have no review to share.   I just finished the Dismas Hardy series, by John Lescroat (lawyer in San Francisco, irreverent and a winner.)  If you really want weird, and who doesn't? I recommend the Donovan Creed series and please, start with the first one and read in order or you'll miss a big, important part.  They are written by John Locke.  He also writes a series with Emmett Love.  Also entertaining.  If you like weird and just outlandish.  Katie, you would be a fan because everyone is just a hot mess and I know you like that.  Think Gramma Mazur as the normal one.  You get my drift.

Tomorrow is current #1 son-in-laws birthday.  He's #1 cause he'll be forty.  Lordy lordy.  I should mail him a card with a pithy, witty message.  Perhaps I'll just send him the other #1 son-in-laws card from January that I never sent.  The sentiment is the same for all of them.  Except #3 son-in-law.  The #3 son-in-law is OK with me having my drivers license taken away down the road and being required to ride the seniors community bus to get around.  It will be a very long time till he digs his way out of that nonsense.  Planning my revenge as we speak.

I have to confess that the trip that was planned for a great family outing to Disneyland, the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad/Loving, New Mexico fizzled and died.  I'm not really that chuffed about it, but the newest grandson has not had the benefit of my "special" attention.  And his hair is a mess.

But really, ain't he just the cutest lil thang? 

I'll leave you with that.  Au Revoir mon amis.

Cheers,

Squidgy