Insanity

I am sure every family thinks they corner the market on this one, but I am sure you are wrong. If I did not see it tonight in my own wacky ass clan, then it just is not out there.

Someday I will figure out the maximum number of minutes I can spend with the good parts before it turns into ugly. But dang...I am 37 years old, how come I cannot get it right yet?

At least it was not me this time. I cannot remember the last time that was true.

I do know this--I love me some baby Gabi, and I love me some Edward, the poor bastard, and I love me some Barry who drove all the way back here for dinner at the country club so he could see them (only to find out the club was closed and dinner was elsewhere and not one managed to tell that, more proof of the senility setting in with some of them) and I love me some Mandy who is way better at shutting her hole than I will ever be, and I love my aunt and my cousin who visited today

Updates are pouring in

I guess this will come as no shock to anyone, but my poor dead Ghostie is evidently an interesting case. The pathologist is wonderful, he is keeping me so updated on things as he discovers them, so I can make adjustments to what we are doing to protect the rest of the herd.

Yesterday, his main thought was Colitis X. That is essentially horrid colitis with no known cause--or impossible to pinpoint. An acute case can die from it in three hours. The path said she was a very acute case based on the condition of her colon. He even took pics to share as it was such a mess. That breaks my heart.

Today, he has isolated some salmonella, which may or may not have had anything to do with it. That was the info we were looking for though--to know whether to worry about everyone else. Fortunately, we were already taking steps to isolate any problems. I cannot tell you the effort that took-as soon as he called yesterday, I had to leave work, go home, strip the stalls, bleach them out and bring in all the babies that had been penned with her. I also have in two yearlings to feed up..so that brought me to ten horses in stalls. You can imagine what a pleasure that was to do in 20 degree weather. But I was fired up to get it done and get it right.

Dad came out to help me with odds and ends like run to buy out the shavings store. Evidently my sawdust delivery is not ever coming, and that makes me crazy.

I worked my ass off, knowing I had Christmas at my mom's later that nite. Dad got on to me for working in no coat, and just workout clothes, but I was working so hard, I was sweating!

I got all the babies put up, groomed up the best I could under the limited circumstances and confirmed no one was having any bad tummies yet.

Of course the rest of the world does not slow down just because I have yet another mess on my hands. Daisy had been running a fever that we thought was a reaction to her rhino booster, so I have been monitoring that. She is right at 101 tonight with no Bute is almost 30 hours. Yay her--that likely confirms it was a reaction to the shot, but under the circumstances, I was scared. Bam Bam has been drooling like a rabid cat, and I was sure it was the clover hay. I took him off of it and have been monitoring his temp as well, as he did not look right either. It hung around 101.4 but is down to 101.2 tonight. Good deal. By the way, do you have any idea how funny I must look chasing these babies around the stalls to stick a thermometer up their little hineys? Funny stuff.

As of tonight, I see no iindication that anyone else is sick. Dr Miles thinks I will not, based on the path's indication that Ghostie has always been a sickie. He found signs of a previous kidney infection that had healed itself, and her general failure to thrive, suggests that she was never strong enough to withstand any sort of weird attack.

On another note-- I think Rock has lost the vision in her one good eye. Either that or she is senile--I am moitoring that situation closely as well. Every time I go to the farm--three times a day--she is in the bull shed. AS soon as she hears me, she starts raising hell to be fed. I feed outside of the shed and she cannot seem to figure it out. Not good. She tore her blanket up already so I had to find another one in good shape and go put it on her in the dark tonight. She was in the shed with Playmate and Foxy--both spirited ladies, and I had no problems at all changing Rock's dress in the dark, with cold hands, and with every strap needing to be adjusted, all while they stood in a pile on top of one serving of hay meant for Rock. There is a round bale out but I wonder if she ever leaves the shed. Still, with all that working against me--I was able to get it done without a flinch from them at all--I had to crawl around in the dark, underneath Rock, in between the other girls to avoid getting into the runoff area where it is still wet and disgusting. I have already been knee deep into that nastiness this week and was not about to repeat that experience.

What I am trying to say is that these older ladies bring so much to my horse-owning experience. They are not always nice. In fact, Rock is hell on wheels to other horses. They are not always easy keepers. ..that is why they are separated right now--their winter feed requirements would suit royalty. Costs that much too. They do all ride amazingly well, not that I often ask them to any more at their ages. But there is something to be said for what experience brings, and trust --and I trust those old girls with everything I have. It is going to kill me to have to make the call on Rock--and we will be evaluating this weekend if it is time. Just the thought of it makes me sick. But spending some uninterrupted time with her will give me a better picture of what is going on--I did not see any problems with her at all when she was in the middle pasture, but since she moved to the front one on Sunday, I have seen some weird behavior.

Man this post is a downer, isn't it? Oh well, that is what my life has been like lately. It will turn around. That is more than I could say for me tonight--since my car battery died at the farm and I had to call for help to get home. Edward came out to jump the car for me, thank God.

On a good note, I had a good training session today on my lunch hour, so I feel less like a hog than I have. The Beast told me to quit grabbing my fat, I was making him ill, and that I was imagining it. Huh. My ass. Which is a whole other problem.

On another good note, BS is en route to moving to St Louis. That was sprung on him today. He should be home by midnite, with his truck full of his stuff from his apartment--and has to work in St Louis tomorrow. It is a nice surprise for him to come home in the middle of the week!

Christmas morning recap

This is what our living room looked like after Barry and I opened presents Christmas morning. We were very well behaved this year, since our big gift was new hardwood floor in the living room. You cannotsee much of it under the boxes and wrapping, but isn't it pretty?
The funniest part of Christmas was what we found on the way to my mom's house for brunch. The poor Baconator had a Walmart bag stuck on his head. He could not see great, and he could not open his mouth to tell me about it. I admit that I felt a little bit sorry for him, but surely it had not been on there that long--and if he was not such a kleptomaniac, these things would not happen.

Everything after Christmas day went downhill. Dec 26th was straight up shitty, and it is not over yet. My favorite filly of the year is dead, and awaiting necropsy at the lab. We have no idea what happened. Rock and Foxy have dropped a lot of weight in the last week. I am on the case, but when you are 28 years old like Rock, it gets harder every year to get her back in shape--and it really does not seem to matter what we do, at some point she just drops weight. Then we will get it back on--but I know our luck will run out some day. Foxy does this every year too and it does seem like it happens overnight with her-she looked great two weeks ago.

Besides my poor dead weanling, the other weanlings also have colds. I would not be at all concerned and would chalk it up to disgusting weather, but with losing Ghostie to God knows what and Daisy looking really rough, I am scared. Daisy is Fat and hairy, but with really goopy eyes and hot to the touch. She had a 102.9 fever today, but I have it down to normal tonight.

You know what, I do not want to talk about this.

Happy Holidays!

In case I don't get a chance to post again before Christmas, I wanted to share Sly's Holiday Card photo.

I hope everyone has a great holiday season. Stay safe and Enjoy!

Situation Desperate

I have lost the remote control. We are down to only one that works the satellite receivers because I washed one of them and now the remaining one has walked off. I swear it was here last nite and I know I went to bed without taking it to the bedroom because I was finishing a good book.

If pig could get in this house, I would think he had it--he has started taking my new saddle pads that are waiting in the garage. I was covering up some of Barry's Christmas presents with some of them, and I noticed the other day that I could see presents out in the open. Not good. I had no idea what was going on until I noticed that pig had one in his pile of bedding. Damn pig. I thought it was funny when he took Barry's tent to his pile and used an empty shavings bag for a bedspread, but this is going too far.

Anyway--back to the remote--This loss caused me to have to stand there in front of the big TV and push buttons forever until I found The Bad Girls Club--which is an excellent show by the way. I love me some crazy bitches. However, I am terribly concerned that I might be missing some other smut, but I guess I will not know since I cannot find the channel guide thing on the TV. I will probably end up watching this episode twice because it is too hard to get up and change the channel.

If it is not one thing it is another.

Today, I had the meeting with the tool. He was a half hour late and he brought with him some state cops and a CSI dude. Unfortunately, he also brought one of my favorite attorneys in the world with him--that was probably to keep me from being hateful. And damned if it did not work. It looked like the cavalry coming in to my office though, which was probably the point--scare me a little bit. Did not work, and I am proud of me for acting like an adult. I did not give in on anything that I did not intend to. At the end, I even told him he was not nearly the asshole I had anticipated he would be--but I am still sure he does not at all remember our last run-in. He does now remember me from school at least. It is the rare person who forgets me after meeting me--it is not like you can mix me up with someone else. It really threw me.

In any event, that is over.

I am now in my panic to get all of Barry's Christmas done. I feel like I have not really gotten started yet. Nothing really meaningful has been purchased and there were a few things he asked for that I just cannot find in my podunk town. Some things have not been delivered yet, but I am sure they will be. I just don't feel like there is anything special this year. But getting to stay home by ourselves for actual Christmas day will be nice, and because his work has him running all over the country this week, but is closing the warehouse where he is on Christmas Eve, he is taking a vacation day for Thursday--that means he will be home tomorrow nite. It is Big game nite for us--Illinois vs Mizzou Basketball game. If tix don't come through at the last minute, we will watch it at home ourselves, and that will be swell.

How I once embarrassed myself and no one noticed

How come it is that some days, I can have 13 things running through my brain and manage to handle them all but other days I can wake up and not even know what day it is? Today has been one of those days where I was pretty much on the ball.

I was up early to pick up the Amish to run one section of fence near the road. There was an complication, so no Amish--but I got to work early. I was on the ball writing a PLA, then a reply brief, and starting another one. I ran errands with Rita at lunch, bought some books at our going out of business book store, including the true crime story of a case I just finished helping with this summer. It is always interesting to read those and see how close they are to what I know about it--usually not very, for the record. After that, I edited some stuff, and thought some stuff, and fixed some stuff, and worked an extra hour. I even went to the gym for the first time since I got the plague--I did about 50 minutes of a spinning class and did not have a coughing fit, so I am mostly well. Hallelujah!

After all that, I watered, took care of Twister, who is doing pretty well but still on h ouse arrest, watered some more, fed some ponies, panicked about how fast we are going through round bales, watered some more and was home by 7:45. As far as I know, I did not screw up a single thing all day. That makes this a banner day.

One interesting thing happened this afternoon. I have a hot potato case right now that involves a whole bunch of agencies and other attorneys. There are co-defendants who have not yet gone to trial, while obviously, my portion of it is already on appeal. There have been rumblings from the Attorney General's office about taking stuff out of my record to help convict the co-defendant. I do not care about the co-defendant and I need this stuff, and I do not like being bullied, which is essentially what has been going on. To top it off, the Assistant AG on the matter is a tool I went to law school with and have had a run in with since I got out. It has been at least ten years or so, and I recall the run-in because he hollered at me on the phone so much that I stammered and acted like a freaking idiot who did not know what she was talking about and I was ashamed of myself for being cowed like that.

That has made this little game fun. I remember it well, but the intermediary thinks AG does not remember me. Hmph says me. The nerve of him. Here I am having been embarrassed all these years and he has no idea who I am. It will all come back to him though I bet and we will see who is embarrassed then.

In any event, he calls me today and played so nice, I did not know how to act. He wants something from me so it is good he is behaving, and of course, I will be a professional about it, but it was kind of funny for him to pander so much. He even asked why he was supposed to know me, and I told him we went to school together. He asked me if he was an asshole then too--and what do you think I said? Yep, I said he was. Then I cracked up.

Isn't it interesting how one event can mean so much to one person and the other party not even remember it? It was not even so much about his behavior, which was a little hot and inappropriate, but more about my reaction and how disgusted I was with myself. I will be damned if I act that way tomorrow, when he comes to see me and brings his investigator with him. I have to psyche myself up to act like a big girl and not the complete fraud I feel like.

I better go to bed early so I can be on the ball again tomorrow--stringing two good days together will be a feat.

Twist Update

So far so good. He got nothing to eat until after work because it took me that long to procure some hay. Well to procure it, then have an asthma attack from wrestling it, and then to finally feed it to him.

When I got to the barn, he was out of his stall. This should surprise no one. That is just how Twist is. He had managed to knock a fan down and poop on it, knock over a trash can and poop on it, play with the shavings bag and poop on it--you get the picture. He was very perky, suffice it to say.

I gave him his shot, although I am not convinced he really needed it, and put his hay in his feeder and watched him eat for a while. He did good, and seemed to have no troubles at all. I only gave him about 7-10 pounds because I wanted him to pace himself. It has been five hours and he just got some more. Maybe that will make him go back in his stall and stay there. Silly boy

Let's hope these are good signs that hold out for a while

Twist's day goes to Hell

The boys were glad to see me home early today--in the day time even. We had our office Christmas party today at the boss' house, and it was swell. Even sweller, we got out around 3 and did not have to go to the office any more. I came home to change clothes to go to the farm and took this pic of Twist looking like he has no forelock, and a little bit like a yak, he is so hairy. Look at his cute little ears. He was perfectly happy...trotting around in the front pasture
By 5 pm. he had a tube up his nose. He was one sick bugger. I thought he looked wonky, and I told myself that if he was still wonky when I got changed, I would check on him more closely. I got distracted by Slater looking wonky, and started to run him to the vet for a check. Halfway out of the drive, I remembered to check Twist, so I backed up and got out. Sure enough, he was still standing in the same position---kind of stretched out with his head hanging almost to the ground. He had greenish foam blowing out of his nose and he was hacking. I crawled through the hot wire--the only hot wire you can be pretty sure works around here (it does, in case you were wondering) and fetched him up.

He was pretty distressed, making weird noises with nose foam blowing all over. I got him to the barn and tried to get him to drink, took his Miracle Collar off-for all the good it does--and called the vet. I heard Kevin was out doing farm calls so he would be awhile, but would come out to tube him.

I got Twist settled in a stall--nasty stall that has not been used in a while, but at least has a working door. I went to do the farm stuff until Kevin called. When he arrived, he said that he could see the actual choke spot from a distance, and he was concerned he may have ruptured his esophagus. Well good Lord--I had no idea that was something that actually happened. I have been lucky to have never had a real choke before--just a little half-assed one that was fairly easily resolved.

Twist was a saint. He was really drooping, and I have never seen a horse take a tube that easily. There was a time period where we did not think we could get the blockage to move, but after a while, we made some progress. It is amazing how relieved you can be when you get stomach contents snorted on you, but I sure was.

You cannot see in the pics but Twist had rolled so much, and it is so muddy here, that he was covered in black mud. He had it on his forehead, and from his jaw to his tailbone. He thrashed so hard that he was soaked to the skin on his right side. The grinding of his teeth as he Kevin shot water into his tube made my skin crawl. But when I saw mineral oil drop out of his mouth, I knew we were clear. And I should hope so--we measure how much tube was actually all the way into this stomach---over seven feet.

Kevin warned me that even though the choke was totally cleared that sometimes, eating will cause him to spasm at the spot he choked, which can start the whole cycle all over again. He is pretty confident that he did not aspirate junk into his lungs to cause pneumonia, so I should not expect to find him dead in the morning....and how lucky I was to have seen the whole thing happen so we can pinpoint the time and get him treated within ninety minutes of the episode starting. He is to stay inside so he does not get into the round bale and he should eat only softer hay from a rack so that he has to eat up and not down for a bit. He is to have oil on his Strategy if I feed him grain at all, and he should have three days of Banamine because he is bound to be a little ouchy for a bit.

I collected all of his supplies from the farm and got him bedded down pretty and explained why there would be no dinner tonight. He can eat tomorrow, but I first have to get some nice hay in a small square bale as we do not have those, and the large squares I have are at the farm and not particularly soft. I can have that for him by lunch tomorrow.

When I last checked on him, he was asleep, curled up against the wall in the stall, snoring. I listened for a while, to make sure it was snores and not some more of his weird choking noises. It was very peaceful in there, with Sly standing nearby to keep an eye on him, and Fonzie poking his little head into the stall to see what was happening. I went in to check his gums and he stayed down resting while I did it, but woke up and talked to me a little. I bet he is worn out He wiggled around some as I loved on him, then rolled over and went back to sleep. Maybe all that resting in the deep bedding will clean up him so he does not look like a transient when I see him in the morning.

Cross your fingers that he has passed the hard part and will be back to normal right away.

My sole NCHA Futurity purchase- I was good!

I am still not recovered from my annual December bout of the plague, which is why it has taken me so long to post. I have been home since Sunday evening, but too busy coughing and sleeping to post anything.

I bought only one thing, well one serious thing, that is. I bought a breeding to Playboy Boonsmal (Peptoboonsmal x Playboys Stormy). He has earnings of $157K. This choice is a little self- indulgent, as he is not the hottest thing in the business like Metallic Cat (who I would not kick out of the barn of course, but boy howdy $$$$)--but I have always liked him and wanted to breed to him. His previous owners did not seem to want to do business despite the fact that they owned some daughters of my mares that they bred to him.

However, he has new owners, and is standing at a new place that fought for my business. That gets my attention every time, so I finally pulled the trigger.


Right now, the only horses selling themselves are Dual Reys, High Brow Cats, Peptoboonsmals, and some of their assorted sons. You can hardly even tell them apart any more. I hate it that the industry is tightening up so much, but that is what it is doing. So this dude meets that requirement but still brings in some of the blood that has been good for the business for years in Freckles Playboy.


Isn't he handsome? I don't even know who I will breed him to, but I have a lot of options that will suit him. That will give me something to think about for the next few months.

This whole trip turned into a family affair--Mom, Barry, Mandy, Edward and Gabi were all there. Gabi was all duded up in a pink and purple plaid Cruel Girl shirt--who knew they made them so tiny? She was a trip. They have horses at her school and she loves them, but evidently she also loves a cow. She sat through the invitational yearling sale, with all that racket, and even paid attention some. When she went to the semi-finals, she immediately focused on the horse showing. She clapped when other people clapped and yelled GO randomly. If you asked her who should go, she would think real hard and then say "cows". She already has this half figured out.

I think the only thing she liked more was the trailers, which she calls "the big bus". Every time you turned around, she was asking to go insider the LQs of sale trailers. Barry is the same way. She did really good for all the distractions, and the noise and so many people around all the time. Now whether she will ever be tall enough to sit right so she could actually compete is anyone's guess. I should start looking for cutters who are under 5'0" to see if that is even an option.

Not fit for Man or Beast out there

This is the nastiest kind of day there is--cold and pretty hard rain, and windy--just nasty. A good day to stay in bed--which I did, alternately sweating then shivering. I get sick-ish every year about this time, although this is a little bit early. I think the threat of going to Texas brings it on--last year I got the sickest, and that was the only time I went to Texas two times in ten days. I should make a theory on that one. Mostly, I think I have a sinus infection, but I must be working something else to be sweating and shivering. This will make for a very busy day at work tomorrow trying to wrap up the things I need done before I go to the Futurity. Thank goodness I am feeling better--either that or I have OD'ed on Benadryl




I left the house one time--to buy Benadryl. When I got back, I found this scene--Simba staring at Charlie through the glass. That poor short bus cat has no idea what he was done--he has announced himself to Simba. I do not believe this is a smart move. I will not say she is an unadulterated killer--my old Dalmatian Sahara would kill any cat she laid eyes on, and Simba is not that bad--but I have found evidence of Simba's work before. She will kill a possum too. Gross.


To protect those uninvited kittens in the garage, I have stopped ever using the garage's back door to the back yard, lest Simba think she needs to go in the garage for any reason. They are skittish and quick, but she is like a cheetah on the prowl, so I do not hold much hope for them if she finds out they are. Normally Simba and Slater are not in the front room where they can see out of the porch windows either, but since it is torn up awaiting the new hardwood to go down next week, I guess I was sloppy and let them in there. That is where she discovered Charlie looking in at her. I swear he was taunting her. That cat is a trip. He kind of reminds me of me.
See that nasty look on his face? That is like me. He is not hateful though, he is really sweet. He just looks like an asshole.

Crazy weather makes my babies tired. Well, at their age, they are mostly tired all of the time. There is a lot of resting going on around here. They sleep for some hours on the couch and when they think it is time to go to bed, they try to drag me down the hall to go to bed.
When Simba is asleep, she is so cute. She is mostly cute all the time, but I love the way she puts her hand over her face to block out the world. Her funny freckled ears crack me up too--they make her look like she is asking a question all the time.

The Baby Alligator, Slater, is not so much cute as he is formidable. He has a very serious look about him. I think that is because he is always wondering where he is. He is fortunately no where near as dumb as he looks, or he would never get out of the door. He is actually pretty smart--he is the one that can open the back door, or the pantry, or the fridge--whatever he wants, he can figure out how to get to it. He has never been the boss of this house though--he knows that is Simba and he takes forever to get in bed because she tells him that he cannot get in it. That confuses him, because I tell him he can and he is not sure who is running things around here.

Truth be told, neither am I

Poor Mascots

This begs the question: What did the mascots do to deserve this?

Gym Freaks

Since I spend so much time at the gym lately--for the last year or so--I have noticed that the freaks there fall in to several categories.

Most of them really irritate the piss out of me.

The main irritating category for me is the Beau Hunks. These are the men--mostly past their prime--who come to the gym all the time, and then spend most of it primping in the mirror. They quite often do not have any hair anywhere on their bodies--it is kind of creepy. They are shiny sometimes. They do a set on a machine. Then lay there a while, then get up and preen in front of the mirror like a peacock. Then they get back on the machine and rest a while before doing another set. They mostly piss me off because inevitably, they get on a machine that I am using with the Beast as part of our session. Since they do not use it and move on to another, they make us change our workout. Pisses me off. They are clearly more interested in looking at themselves than working out, yet they screw up my system.

Another category are the loud ones. These are related to the Beau Hunks, but instead of looking at themselves all the time, they are grunters and face makers. They try to lift too much weight, and end up bellowing and grunting and making horrid faces that make them look like they are in labor. Evidently they think this is required. After the grunting, they will pace around their machine, throwing it looks like "Who's your daddy now?" You cannot help but watch them, because you know one of these days they will separate something or do serious damage from all that carrying on and I do not want to miss that.

Sometimes these fools will wear a weight belt. The Beast and I call them "Belt Wearers". There is one at our gym who wears a belt with some knit shorts, and his tall socks pulled up, with a tank top. All he is missing is a damn headband. He looks like a roller skater and he has to be more than fifty. It is not a good look for him. He is also a route-interrupter like the BeauHunks. One day I staed on the leg press machine until I had lifted 100 pounds more than normal because he was circling it like a vulture and I would be damned if I would give my machine up to a Belt Wearer.

The next group are the Dirty Flirts. These are grunters and beau hunks that think any poor girl in the joint is fair game. For some reason, we have a good number of really hot chicks at our gym--serious athletes who treat their workouts like their job. Most of them have a passel of fools who follow them around like dogs with their tongues hanging out. It is kind of funny, but when they get in a big group, they crowd up the place. They talk to the girls like they are best friends, and offer to spot them. Someday they will realize how stupid they look- but only if someone writes it on the mirrors they are usually starting at.

The next batch is the Has-Beens. I feel bad talking about this bunch, because I am one and I know how it feels. But mother of God, Fat Boy, if you insist of sweating like that in public, the least you can do it wear a shirt that does not have a rip in it so your belly hair sticks out of it. Please Jesus, get a shirt. One with sleeves preferrably. Tank tops for men are rarely a good idea, and just because you wear a sleeveless "muscle shirt", your rolls dont transform into muscle any more than mine do. This is the dude who needs to look in the damn mirror.

The last group are the Over Dressers. These are usually fairly young guys--that is about right--the only ones that I would not mind showing up scantily clad are wearing three layers and a skull cap and a hoodie. What is that about? It is hot up in there, why do they wear so many clothes? It is like a pack of young Unabombers--and they travel in packs too. Surely they know that sweating it off does not really help--the first beer puts it back on, so why do they wear so many clothes? I will never understand this one.

Do all gyms have these groups? Or am I just the lucky one?