How much more reprehensible can one person get? Rosemarie Ortman update

I have posted about Rosemarie Ortman before--I consider her the Devil of the Great White North (Canada).

She first came into my world in a peripheral way a few years ago (three I think), when she bought a Slybaby from Carrie, in Alberta. His name was Molson, and he was out of her best mare, that she lost later. He was a beautiful boy, looked so much like Sly, but thicker. When I visited one summer, I took lots of pictures of him-it was eerie to me how much he looked like Sly. Carrie sold him not long after, to this crazy Rosemarie.

She had trouble with her from the get go--arguing over the price they agreed upon, and eventually making a deal to give Carrie some breedings back to him. Carrie had just lost her mare she had since she was a teenager and was in a deep funk--she did not have it in her to fight about anything horse related, so it was easier to trust it would be okay

Red flags started going off for both of us, but the horse world is full of crazy people and their money is as green as anyone else's. Or whatever color Canadian money is.

The first problem that arose, I think, was when she stole my photos to use in her advertising. This pissed me off for a couple of reasons. First, she did not ask. Second, she did not even pick the best pictures. Carrie caught her at it and told her she could not use them, but that I might give her permission if she asked nice.

Nice is not quite how it went. I fully intended to give her permission to use them, if she used quality ones that showed him well and gave me credit for them--I did not want my name on a crappy pic, and I did not want her advertising him at stud showing him in anything other than the best light. That would hurt Sly. If she did it on her own, that would be one thing, but to steal my pics to do it--I think not. She was a raging bitch. I cannot tell you how foul she was. She pretty much gave me the finger and challenged me to do something about it.

And she continued to use the photos. At that time, I blogged about how she was a thief. Because she is. Not just for stealing my photos, but for not paying in full to Carrie. She also never transferred the horse in AQHA, so people who bred to him thinking they would get AQHA foals could not get them registered--she did not have the authority to register them without first transferring him into her name. So she stole from me, from Carrie and from mare owners. She even stole our slogan for Sly's campaign, changing only one word. See his old stallion ad here

About the time I calmed down from that, she pulled another stunt. She claimed Molson and some other horses were stolen from her. My ass. I knew better, as well as if I had watched the situation go down. I knew she was lying. There were "poor me" articles in the paper, even the Edmonton Sun, I think. The ads she placed about them being stolen were slick, well done ads---not the sort of things a grief-stricken panicked owner throws together in an emergency situation. More red flags. She said these horses were her "life's work"--hell, she was not even living in the same province as them at the time. It was just odd how the situation was handled.

And lo and behold--they were found. Imagine that. Since they were not stolen in the first place, it was not so hard to find them. I called her out then too--just hoping she would come back and start insulting me again--I love that sort of thing, even when it is not a fair fight. She needed to hear some things I needed to say and I damn sure needed to say them, but alas--I was disappointed again.

Molson had been for sale prior to his big adventure, and I guess she thought mention in the newspaper upped his value because she jumped his sales price from $5K to $6K I think those were the figures. In fact, she is still trying to sell this poor horse--- see here and here

Now I am all about getting what you can price wise, but I knew he would never sell like that and he would be stuck with her. She had not even really started him--so nothing to recommend him but his looks and his pedigree. Although I do believe she lied about that some too, regarding whether he was ever trained. Her horse, her story, I do not care. It is just frustrating to see a nice horse not be properly served, especially when he was the product of so much hard work by Carrie and me (the story of his shipped semen conception was one for the history books on its own).

I finally moved on and quit hoping someone would mow her down with a semi, until tonight. Tonight I learned that in December, Molson starved to death, along with some other horses she owned and kept on the family farm.

That is right. Starved to death. Do you have any idea how long that takes? That does not happen over nite. That does not happen in a week. For an easy keeper like Molson, a five year old stallion--it does not happen over several weeks. This took TIME. Time that he suffered, and was scared, and hurt from hunger and his organs shutting down on him. Time that he was in hell, because she did not do her part.

Now I am not unfamiliar with neglected and starving horses. Through Linda, I have seen more than my share of them, because she was a hooved animal humane investigator. I know from the racks of bones she has dragged home how hard it is to get one in that shape, and how easy it can be to fix one if you will just FEED IT.

This story gets worse. Just two weeks ago, Carrie ran into this disgusting piece of filth at a tack sale. To her face, Rosemarie told Carrie she was getting good money for Molson's "registerable" foals. Not only is that another lie, because they were not registerable without Carrie's signature which no one has asked for even though she is still the sire's registered owner--but she had the perfect opportunity to tell her then that Molson had died. Now I certainly would not have told her that, if I had starved him to death, but then again, if I was that evil, who knows what I might have done?

And now we know, via one of Rosemarie's "friends" that she starved Molson to death. And has bought a replacement stallion, this time a palomino, from here in the States somewhere.

I do not know what the worst part of this story is--probably that the cycle is going to start all over again so she can starve some more to death.

And nothing is being done. It has been three or four months and the news is just now making it out into the world.

There is a special place in hell for you Rosemarie Ortman. I hope you treat your children better than your animals. And the vengeful part of me hopes that you someday learn what it is to be hungry--sooner rather than later, so you can get to that special place in hell where you belong.

And in case anyone thinks that I should not be posting this publicly, I invite Rosemarie or her cohorts to come here and tell me I am wrong. Prove it to me and I Will take it back. It won't happen, I know, but I would be thrilled to know I am wrong. Maybe the story got twisted, but considering the source, and Rosemarie's history, I seriously doubt it.

I am an idiot

I have someone coming to quote the painting of the bathroom and bedroom. So what did I do? Tried to paint the bathroom. Good thing I am getting a new floor in there, as I have paint all over the place, including me.

Also, since when does paint cost $51 a gallon?

Cinder's big adventure

I thought Cinder would like it if she got to go to Tracy's to play on Saturday nite. She was not. She did eventually find some men who would let her cuddle, and managed to live through it. I should have known she was one of them. Just look at that sweet face!

This evening, I cleaned out the deep freeze--well not really, I just took out some stuff to make room for new, and I finally gave up my freezer burned strawberries. I thought Peeg would love them-he loves fruit. Who knew that Cinder would be so happy about them? She did the same thing she does with all her food--grabs a bite, then runs and deposits it somewhere else.

See here, on the far side of the driveway, she started a pile of strawberries, and yelled at anyone who looked at it. Poor Tazer did not know whether to try to play with her or play defend the berries against Peeg. Cinder made it clear he should do something else besides look at her strawberries.

Eventually, they had a friendly tussle, and all went well, until she got knocked down just on the edge of the concrete apron, and thought she was going to die. Oh the howling that went on. It was very dramatic. Look at that horrible sad face. Doesn't that just break your heart?

And how bout her pretty pink stitches. I hesitate to say this only 6 days into it, but she has not bothered those stitiches at all--she has been so much better than Tazer was about his. Cinder is turning into such a good girl--now if she would only learn her name and stop being so scared of everyone so that you can catch her without tackling her. We have a lot of work to do, but now at least I think she is worth it.

Do you think she is getting taller?

So this is what staying at home is like?

I do not get to just BE at home very often. There is usually so much to do, places I have to be, etc, that there are never days where I just do not HAVE to do something. Today was one of them.

I stayed up late reading a book with Slater. I slept until mom woke me up at 11 to come help me pick the paint. They came out and agreed with me on the color, but then I was tired, so instead of going to the store, I went back to bed. That was swell, but Tazer kept waking me up barking at God knows what in the yard. I set my alarm to make sure I got to the paint store before they closed, and went to Lowe's on the way to buy a couple pieces of the tile we are going to put in the bathroom, so I could pick paint for that too. I went to the grocery store on the way home, although I do not know why.

I fed my ponies, watered everyone, checked on the mamas to be, and talked to Mandy on the phone about all the things that are just jacked up in our world. It is Gabi's birthday, but I was banned from buying her anything since she has so much crap and they are moving to Qatar soon anyway. They do not need more to pack or store. She asked about whether the babies were getting "boring" yet, but we are pretty sure she meant Born. They are coming to visit in a few weeks, as soon as they get the final court date for Crews' adoption out of the way--not that it is even set yet. They better hurry up though as Ed has to be in Qatar to work on April 15, and that is an awfully pricey plane ticket to buy to come home for a hearing that will take ten minutes.

Anyway, I came home from all that, played with dogs, and started painting the bathroom. I ended up getting caught up in that stupid green Frog tape and it wore me slap out. I thought I would be up all night because of the nap, and might get something done, but it does not look good at this point.

I could kind of get into all this not being scheduled to death. It is kind of nice.

I have to go to St Louis to the doc tomorrow. Since it seems pointless to just do one thing at a time, I am going to take Tazer with me. He is feeling neglected lately, since Cinder got here, and has out grown his collar, so we are going to go to PetSmart and McDonald's for him.

When I get back, I am finally allowed to go back to the gym! Two chiro appointments down, with more this week, but I am getting way better. Better enough I want to ride Harley if possible tomorrow or Tuesday.

And maybe, just maybe, Diablo and baby boy will get to come home this week. They still are not over all their problems, but are making improvements, so that could happen.

Let me Tell you About Bob

This week, we lost my main man Bob. I have talked about him on this blog more than once, but I know I never made it clear how much Bob mattered to me. I always though I had time. I did not. It has taken me all week to try to write this and when I was almost done, it deleted and I know I cannot do it as well trying to recreate it

MT. VERNON — Robert Virgil Walsh, 92, of Mt. Vernon, passed away at 11:50 a.m. on Saturday, March 19, 2011, at St. Mary’s Good Samaritan Hospital in Mt. Vernon.

Robert was born April 9, 1918, in Grayville, a son to the late Thomas Virgil and Daisy (Bisch) Walsh. He graduated college at the University of Illinois finished law school there in 1949. He settled in Mt. Vernon and chose an active career in the business of oil and gas leasing and production.

Mr. Walsh was first elected to the Illinois General Assembly in 1962 and served two terms. Due to his popularity, he won re-election in 1964 on the infamous statewide “orange” ballot, also known as the “bed sheet” ballot. He was a principal sponsor of legislation to establish a bi-state airport at Lawrenceville. During the 1970s Robert was chairman of the Jefferson County Democrat Party. Representative Walsh returned to the legislature in 1977 to fill the remainder of William O’Daniel’s term.

Mr. Walsh also served as an aide to Secretary of State Paul Powell and travelled throughout the country with Powell. Many believe Powell would have easily been elected governor but for his untimely death. Robert had many interesting stories from that colorful period in Illinois politics. He later owned a race pony which, with whimsical irony, he named “Shoebox Kid.”

Mr. Walsh was a delegate to the 1976 Democrat Convention in New York City and participated in the nomination of President Jimmy Carter.

At the age of 90 years, Mr. Walsh went to Denver for the 2008 Democrat Convention where he participated in the nomination of the president and was seated in a place of honor with the Illinois Delegation.

Robert met and supported many candidates for public office. He remembered meeting President Harry Truman, Ambassador Averill Harriman, President Lyndon Johnson, Attorney General Robert Kennedy, Vice President Hubert Humphrey, Governor Otto Kerner, Governor James Thompson, President Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter, President Bill and Hilary Clinton, President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama, Governor Patrick Quinn and others too numerous to mention. Mr. Walsh enjoyed a warm friendship with Senator Paul and Representative Jeanne Simon.

Mr. Walsh was a World War II Veteran of the United States Army and was a member of numerous civic and fraternal organizations, including the Masonic Lodge, the American Legion, The AMVETS, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Moose Lodge and the Elks Lodge. He belonged and contributed to several organizations dedicated to the preservation of wildlife and the environment.

Robert Walsh is survived by his special friend, Mary Tonn, four grandchildren, Robin Walsh-Roberts and husband Jon and Bradley Wayne Walsh and wife Rashell, all of Cerulean, Ky., Tamara Anderson and husband Troy of Phoenix, Ariz. and Ryan Patric Walsh and wife Jerusha of St. John, Ariz.; great grandchildren, Christian Thomas, Jessy Pearl Walsh and Bradley Robert Walsh of Cerulean, Ky., Shane, Ethan and Braden Anderson of Phoenix, Ariz. and Reese and Reagen Walsh of St. John, Ariz. Other extended family includes stepson Richard Fagan and family of Ohio.

A son, Robin Walsh is previously deceased.

Prior to his passing, Robert was constantly attended to by his good friend Dr. Richard Garretson.

Robert will be sorely missed by many friends but especially by Larry Hicks, Charles and Karen Given and entire family, Leslie and Jerry Hannig, Tom and Dorothy Puckett, Gary Duncan, Sandy Edmison and Alec Duncan, in whose lives he played a special and loving part.
****************

I met Bob when I was three when my family moved in across the street. I thought he was nice, but when I grew up and realized that he was campaigning when he brought popcorn, I felt kind of silly. Until I told him that 25 years later, and he laughed his ass off. He would come play with us in the front yard, in the leaf houses we made.

I took up with him again when I moved back home after law school. Bob had a law degree but he never practiced. He was an oil man. He ran around with a bunch of lawyers though and would turn up where I was a lot. We fell into an easy relationship like none I have ever had. I would see him at the Elks, which in our town is very much a social place. A girl can go in there on any given day and find a friend, and lots of times, for me, it was Bob.

We would talk about Illinois basketball, something we were both rabid about, and we would meet to watch the games. We would cuss and discuss every move they made, and eventually, pretty much everything else. I would tell him things I did not tell anyone else--like how I was scared about something at work, or how I felt ill equipped to do certain things, or when I did something I was super proud of that I knew most people would not get, etc. He would somehow make it better but not in a pandering sort of way. He was not a pandering sort of dude--he somehow would just cut through the crap and get right in where I needed him to, in order to make me see straight. Making him proud was a big deal to me

Some of my best memories ever were having dinner with him at the Elks, just the two of us, and talking until we were hoarse. He would drink Scotch he was not supposed to have for health reasons, and I would listen to his stories--and man, could he tell a story. They would have been great stories, even if you did not know the people he called by first name were very famous people, politicians, etc. Bob never seemed to distinguish between me and someone who was his equal, even though we were 55 years apart and I could never be the amazing person he was. Maybe that is why I loved him so much--he was one of the few people in my hometown who made me feel like a grown up instead of a little kid. When you come home to your hometown, you do not always get treated like a professional, but instead, so and so's kid, or sister, etc. Bob made me feel like a force to be reckoned with all on my own, and I do not know if anyone else in my life ever did that--and somehow he did it even while treating me like someone he had cared about since I was little. It is just hard to explain how he could do both, but he did. Just thinking of his stories makes me blush a little even thinking about it, because it was so shocking to me to learn that this larger than life character was just a regular person who told dirty jokes, and belched, and yelled at the TV. Just like the rest of us.

So Bob is gone. It breaks my heart. I hope he somehow knew that Illinois won their first round NCAA game the night before he died, and he never had to know about the whole ILL-Kansas fiasco that happened the next day. I know he knows I loved him, admired him and will miss him so much

Lots going on this week

In the midst of all my anxiety about Diablo and the baby, this has been a busy week. I realize in saying that, I am just being an idiot, because I am not doing the work taking care of him. The food poisoning or whatever it was knocked me out of business for a while, and I had to break down and go to the chiropractor to have my neck dealt with. It is working, and I go back tomorrow. I got a message that I had a regular doctor's appointment today, so I went even though I did not know why. It is hard keeping up with my appointments, I feel like a very old person. Monday I have to go to St Louis to the gyno, which wastes the entire day. Meanwhile, the chiro banned me from the gym until Monday, and now that will be Tuesday because of the doctor's appointment.

This is ridiculous.

I am not the only one that has been busy. Baby Cinder went to the vet Wednesday for her surgery. She got spayed and managed to avoid bladder surgery, so she got her stomach tacked instead. Clearly, her previous owners did not get really treat her as reported because one round of antibiotics given to her by us solved her bladder problems. She has been such a good girl ever since. I let Tazer sleep with her last nite and he took care of her. She slept in bed all day today by herself. I am not sure my good luck with her can last--surely she will get her energy back soon and refuse to sleep through the night.

My new computer came. She is so pretty. It is brown. I do not know why, but it is pretty. The world has changed since I got this one--now there is a tool that lets you transfer most of your stuff from old to new computer. That is cool. Now I am downloading programs that I had on this one--harder than it sounds. Fortunately, you no longer have to keep up with the actual CDs. I have been able to find most of my serial numbers in old emails. This makes life much easier, but what I am going to do about my website program Front Page I do not know-since they do not make it any more. That will be the project for the weekend.

What else? Oh, we sold Hawkeye. Someone got a great horse.

Today, I bought plane tickets to Grand Cayman for June. I am currently in negotiations for a condo on Seven Mile Beach. AmyB is going with again, of course. This year, we decided to do something a little less adventurous and a little more normal. Last year took a toll on my ass, eating the crazy fat farm food and being so hot I could not breathe. I need a break from Third World countries, and just need a little spoiled pampering with a swim-up bar. Dive camp is excellent but so is good air conditioning and pretty boys to serve you cocktails by the pool. It is going to be that kind of vacation this year.

I think that is all I have. I seem to have all this free time now that I am not at the gm 90 minutes a day, but I feel like crap. Guess I will go to bed

The painting dilemma

After 13 years of living here, we finally are doing something about the murder room. It is just atrocious, but we could not get in the mood, get an idea, have the time and everything else together at the same time.

But Barry cleaned out a lot of it last week or his brother to visit, and ripped out the rest of the carpet. So we went and got paint samples and started at it. And why did it take this long to develop paint samples? Each jug does 75 square feet, so you can paint a decent amount. I wish I had invented this sample idea--it makes so much sense.

We chose a bluish green and a corresponding brown. They are gorgeous in the store. Not so much in the house. Of course not. I would go so far as to say they are hideous. The brown looks like sick baby shit. It is awful.

But I am stuck on the idea of blue and brown. The room is pretty big 15 x 16, so it can take color. And hell, anything is better than black walls with red and white splatters on it like it is right now! I guess it is back to the store for some better shades. It has to be something fairly bold, or the rest of the house will totally over power it. The hallway leading to it is a grass green, so it cannot be something light, or it will not fit here. We are a loud colored kind of house.

In the same vein, we chose new porcelain tile for the hallway bathroom as well. The laminate wood in there is so damaged, because the subfloor warped. It is only 30 square feet so it will not be a big project at all. And for once, we could agree on the tile, and did it quickly. We need a new subfloor under it first, but Barry can do that. We texted the floor guy to get a date so that is on its way. We will have to repaint in there too. I would like to put a new vanity in there, like a vessel stand with one of those cool sinks, but I do not know if that will happen--we may be getting out of hand price wise. And it is a small bathroom obviously--it is the hall bath, with a tub, a 25 inch vanity, toilet and nowhere near enough storage. But it is kind of fun to do every once in a while, and they are both over due.

In other news, I think I was struck by food poisoning yesterday. It was hell. And my neck is still out of whack, so all that puking was especially fun for me. Baby boy TR is doing great, although Diablo was in some distress today, and required a vet visit. Things must be going better now as I have not heard otherwise. The vet found nothing retained, and she is eating and pooping like crazy so she is not colicy--just sore from having a baby boy, we guess. Banamine is a good thing.

Tomorrow morning is Cinder's big surgery. She is getting spayed and perhaps her bladder opened up and cleaned of all crystals and rocks in there. If there are not any rocks, she will get her tummy tacked too. She is turning into such a good girl. Squirrelly as hell, but good--and she would not fit in here if she was any other way. Think good thoughts for her tomorrow, please--she may need them.

And in most excellent news, I ordered a new computer. I am going to have a new laptop who has its original keyboard, and does not require a plug in mouse because all of it is going to work. Hot damn!

Midway through a miracle

Some how, some way, something crazy is happening. After a bit of a crazy overnight, baby boy has come on like gangbusters.

He had a rough night last nite, during which he was described as being "not worth a shit". He was losing ground, I guess. After that, he got busy and pulled his own stomach tube out in the middle of the night. No one knows how. Then again, no one knows how he has done anything he has done so far. This one is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for everyone involved. Or we hope so, at the very least!

When we went to visit him about 3:30 this afternoon, the first thing I noticed was that there was normal activity on the farm. That tipped me off that something was going on. The something was NOTHING! There was no drama, no shenanigans, no problems--allowing Judy and Dempsey to get back to their other responsibilities. I held my breath as I asked how he was doing. The smile on Judy's face pretty much answered it immediately.

He had been up and down all day, and had figured out that he gets more food from mama than from his own knees, which is where he had been concentrating his attention. He was way more mobile than he had been yesterday.

This little sucker may pull this off after all.

It is amazing to see a miracle unfold right in front of you like this. I would not have missed it for the world

Diablo's baby is here~

And we still do not know if he is going to make it. I took him to Coogan's Farm to foal, on the recommendation of my vet. A lot of people thought that was not necessary, but today's events proved it was almost prophetic.

Her foaling alarm went off at 2:40 a.m. last night and she had a textbook delivery by 2:55 a.m. His cord did snap early so his umbilicus had to be tied off, but that is no big deal. Judy thought he was lethargic, so after giving him plenty of time to act normal, she got in there and tried to stimulate him. When she manipulated him a little, his head and neck flopped over to the side, like it was broken. No matter what she did, his head fell over. It scared her to death, but not nearly as much as when he started seizing in a wild manner. She said she had never seen anything like that in her life---seizures, yes-this sort of behavior, no. He kicked his legs all crazy all over the place, and still could not control his head. He thrashed and thrashed and banged his head on the ground, and ran like crazy as he laid there. She said it was like he was making snow angels but super fast--straw flying everywhere.

The whole reason they were there is because they can handle virtually any emergency and are way closer to Dr Miles should they need him. They needed him. His emergency service rousted him out of bed, and his thought was that there was nothing they could do for him. Judy could not get me to wake up, so she made the decision that he would be given a feeding tube, and we would see what happened.

So doc came up, tranquilized baby boy, gave him some banamine, some dex for brain swelling, and put in a stomach feeding tube. He left meds to continue tranquing him in the event he started seizing again when it wore off. In his opinion though, there was no chance in hell he was going to survive--he thought he was approaching brain death

I finally heard the phone ring around 10 and hotfooted it down to Coogans, about 45 minutes away. I thought, from her description, that I was going to say goodbye and make the decision to let him go. I was so frustrated. Barry was right behind me in his truck, because he was supposed to go on to the Shawnee to go mountain biking.

When I got there, Judy came out of the barn and looked so serious, I knew it was over. But nope--he was still hanging in there. This was the scene that greeted me. He was under a blanket because he shook so much. That is vet wrap around his neck and nose, to hold his feeding tube in place. There is also some duct tape on his nostril so the tube could be sewn in. They had been milking Diablo and feeding him via the tube every hour since he was born. That is the only reason he was still alive. His little baby eyes were practically swollen shut from all the trauma.

Within minutes, he had rolled his little self up on his chest, and could hold his head up. Judy said he had not been able to do that yet. She was more than a little shocked.

It was feeding time, so that happened. That feeding tube sure makes life easier, and Diablo is a saint. She is such a heavy milker, it just takes seconds to get 8 ounces out of her and into him. He is surely eating better than if he was doing it himself.

After a couple of hours of this, where I laid in the stall with him and rubbed him all over under his blanket, he got stronger and stronger. He started responding more to stimuli, and even talked a little bit. It broke my heart. No one could believe it when he started trying to get up, but try he did. Just like a newborn baby, but he was 9 or 10 hours old.

Finally he DID IT! We helped him a couple of times, but finally he did it on his own! He does not move around a whole lot, but he can sure stand up. He seems confused by his legs, but not like he has neurological issues like we thought--just like a new baby. A little slow maybe, but he is doing it

The vet called while this was happening, and I swear he thought he had the wrong number when I told him baby boy was wobbling around the stall on all fours, just like a regular baby. I think you could have knocked him over with a feather.

I stayed until 2:3o and he was trying to learn to nurse, but had not gotten it down yet. There is a fine line there--you have to keep them fed every hour because they have no reserves, but then they are not as inspired to find the taps because they are not hungry. I was sure he would figure it out.

I had an update at 6:30. He had gotten up with assistance, and once on his own, but still does not nurse on his own. So no improvement there, but he is not going backwards either. I have to keep that in mind instead of being disappointed. It is not a foregone conclusion that he is going to make it yet,. but he has a fighting chance, and he did not have that 12 hours ago.

He would not have had a chance had he been here. It is only because of Dempsey and Judy that he is still with us. If working hard and wanting it is enough, he is going to pull through. Let's hope it is enough.

The people in my world

are a surprisingly useful bunch of folks.

Tracy in particular is swell and never fails to shock me about what she knows, has handy, or can get done in the space of a second. Today was a prime example

Yesterday, I came home early to take a nap as I was exhausted and it was my damn birthday, so why not? I had eaten entirely too much at birthday lunch with Tranae and Vanessa, and could not stand my skin another minute. In doing that, I realized I was skipping going to the gym, something I never do. But I did it

I woke up from my nap with a stiff neck. The longer I was awake, the worse it got. I missed some planned events, like riding Harley at Tracy's, having a long committed and much dreaded shot of tequila with Les, etc. My brother in law Jeff came down to see a band, so we went to that. I met some other friends up there, etc, but I hurt so bad it was hard to enjoy the night. If I turned my head, it knocked the wind out of me.

I longed for bedtime, thinking I could sleep it off and wake up cured. Nope

Today was worse. I could not even get out of bed without help. I had blurry vision, everything--I was in trouble. I even had to cancel my planned trail ride tomorrow, which almost made me cry. We talked about getting a new chiro on Monday-- a long way away.

Finally, I gave in and went to Tracy's, because it was Les' birthday, and Cindy and Colleen were here to play. That was the plan, and I was not missing it, even if I could not move

And this is where it gets funny.

Tracy can fix anything, but how she did this, I will never know. She did not even know how bad I hurt or why. Yet, when I walked in, she had handy some rodeo folk. And a damn chiroporactor from Texas

And one of those gravity hanging tables.

Before I knew what had happened, I was upside down worrying my boobs would fall out, and my head was pulled damn near clean off my neck. You could hear the cracks like shotguns all throughout the barn. And because it was Tracy's house, some dog was licking me.

When I got up, I was sore, but not feeling like I could die at any minute. Now, 7 hours later, I feel like none of it ever happened. I feel great!

And did I mention how hot this man was? He mentioned that he keeps being asked if anyone has ever told him he looks like Mel Gibson, and until he mentioned it, I had not noticed it. After he did, it was all I could see.

In any event, we had a great night as usual. We had a great dinner courtesy of Cindy and Colleen, and laughed with the chiro and company until we cried. It was great fun.

And I can move!

Everyone should have magic friends.

Big night

I know I have presented myself as a mess who cannot get out of her own way. The fact is that is not always true. Mostly, I am pretty together. Yeah, people who know me in real life are laughing their asses off. But truly I have my shit together most of the time--even when it looks like I screw up everything, I have already knocked out a whole bunch of other stuff.

So tonight I went to a Meet the Candidates thing for a friend who is running or City Council. I have known him since I was probably 12, but took up with him again recently, because I was so impressed with the activism I have seen from him in the media lately. I looked him up to tell him so, and found myself completely sucked into his family. His new wife, his sisters, nephews, etc. It is a small town, so it is inevitable that when you get a new friend, you also get his family because turns out you know them too. And I am truly enjoying it. I do not even get to vote for city council because I live in the county, but I wanted to show my support.

In any event, this thing lasted til 7. While there, I got to enjoy several other people that I really like but rarely get a chance to talk to--maybe because mostly I am busy doing too many things at once.

We moved the party on after that to our regular Thursday evening BAR meeting. That is where things got good. There I learned from a young feller--33 I think, that growing up, he had the hugest crush on my forever and thought I was "fine". Does that word take you back forever or not. Even better, he made a big deal out of it in front of Barry--to whom he kept apologizing--and the date he had with him.

I know it is silly, but man did that feel good. He thinks I am still swell. And damned if he did not make me feel that way too.

This day

was a pain in the ass, for several reasons.

Went shopping with Rita over lunch, and was late to training--so as punishment, the Bad Boy made me RUN. or jog, or whatever, but it was horrid. Not only did he make me do it, he made me do it outside. We only went a mile, but we definitely jogged more than we walked. Probably 3/4 mile was jogging. I wanted to die.

I wanted to die even more when we got back to the gym and did some HIIT. One of the things we did during it was leg extension machine, which requires the padded bar to lay across the lower part of my shin. Oh my God, did it hurt. Already, just 10 or 15 minutes after we got done jogging. I bitch the whole time we do the HIIT training, but it is totally worth it. I burned over 500 calories in 30 minutes, plus the jogging.

So that made me feel better. After work, I went to the farm to ride Harley and it totally ruined my night. We have had so much rain that we have limited riding spaces, and she was not good about any of them. I am praying it was the saddle we use, because I was so disappointed, I almost cried.

And just now, this very second, I just found some taco meat from dinner in my belly button. I shit you not.

Only in this family

Do things like this happen!

Mom was going to go to Chicago to be with aunt Jana while she does Chemo this week, but emailed me on Sunday night to say she was going to delay her departure because Dad was retaining fluid again, and having trouble breathing, so she needed to get that dealt with first. He has everything wrong with him, and is on umpty eleven drugs, so sometimes things go crazy. When they ignore it though, he ends up in the hospital.

So mom was home Monday morning when she heard that Gran Gran, who lives about 200 miles south of us, in the bootheel of Missouri, had fallen in her house. Gran Gran is 92 or 93 and still lives alone and does fine. She hurts a lot as she has bad osteoporosis and if she coughs hard, she breaks her ribs. In any event, she must have fallen out this morning, and was going to the hospital via ambulance.

Off mom and dad went to meet her at her hospital but on the way they were diverted to Cape Girardeau, because Gran Gran was going to need surgery. She was en route from her hospital to Cape via ambulance. I guess mom made a right turn and headed to Cape. Irritating thing about Cape is that it is not really that far, but there is no easy way to get there.

By the time they got to the hospital, Dad was having some sort of episode. Next thing you know, he was admitted and put on Lasix and God knows what else. When I talked to mom, she was ranting about not being able to find the ER.

This does not happen to normal families. How do you end up with half your family in the same hospital, in a town where no one you are related to lives?

I am sure I do not know, but if it is going to happen, it will happen to us

Step 3 of the transformation

Finally, I got new pics of the hair--it took me until today to get it right. Yes 6 days. Six days to learn how to do my hair. And really, I am still not doing it right, or I would be able to just blowdry it and get slick hair, but I cannot do it. I have to use a big fat curling iron on the top layer because I do something wrong and still get some frizz. Its easy though--just like three curls under and it fixes it.

This process works though or I could curl all day long, and I would still pretty much look like Bozo.

And yes I felt like a complete jackass smiling in the mirror like some skanky ho taking nudie pics. Aren't you glad I did not do that? Clearly I do not focus well when I am doing this--Im a little blurry.

And now I see there is a piece of hay in my hair. That should come as no surprise to anyone--I almost always have hay somewhere. If I use the flat iron, I can make it stick straight, but it is kind of flat like that. For normal, I like this better.

I cannot believe there is finally something that will straighten my hair, and defrizz it. I want it to grow another three inches or so, at which point I will remember why I cut it off in the first place. I want a little lighter for summer too, because I need a change from my real color. Normally I get highlights, but they tend to turn radioactive orange during the summer--I wonder if it not being so curly will keep that from happening. Otherwise, I have no idea how to get it lightened up. Good thing I have Liza for that.

So what do you think?

I cannot take this anymore

I know I have blogged about this sort of thing before, but this is getting out of hand. This is not the regular "tools at the gym" post. This is about a particular tool.

He makes me so crazy that when he shows up, I want to leave. But I will be damned if this smarmy little dude runs me out of the Y freaking M C A. I will not have it.

Tonight I saw his slimy ass arrive when I had only about 10 minutes left. That is pretty good, surely I can make it through ten minutes, I think.

But tonight, he was specially jam packed with irritation. Not only is he overly tanned, but he dresses like he is 17--with basket ball shorts hanging low, and some spring break looking t-shirt. And he is 50 if he is a day. He has this young hair cut that he uses entirely too much product in. I do not know which is the most irritating thing he does--it might be how he sings out loud to his I-Pod, clearly listening to some weird music. I can tell it is weird because while he is squealing and playing air guitar to himself, it is completely unrecognizable. Or it might be how he THANKS everyone for coming to the gym. Like he owns the place. Which he does not, mind you. He is just a regular ol jackwagon who needs to stay home and at least far away from me.

It makes me crazy. The only thing he does that is even creepier is to hit on every girl under 20 in the place, although I kind of enjoy that because he is never successful.

One day he got on the machine next to me, and made some comment about how I should slow down or I would not make it. Lovely, just what I need--tool convo. I told him I was within minutes of completing my hour, so I thought I would be all right. He of course has to tell me he does two hours per session. Um, no he does not. He must not realize I am here every friggin day and see him come and go in a much shorter time period. Plus, he is not really working all the time, he is making a nuisance of himself and squealing, and calling everyone "Brotha" and high fiving all over the place. Also, if he worked out two hours a day, he would not look like an earthworm with a tanning bed and a personal waxer.

Ugh, I cannot even talk about this much more. It is getting so bad, I am considering getting up in the mornings to go to the gym rather than going at lunch and after work like I do now. I am about to be defeated by a cartoon character

How my little zoo welcomes me home

Now that it is warming up, Peeg is getting much more active. So when we got home from Mardi Gras on Sunday, and I left the front door open for the new pup to come in, I got more than I bargained for. By the time I had all my stuff unloaded, Bocephus had waddled up the front steps and into the living room. He absolutely adores that cowhide rug. Every time he comes in, he goes in there and rubs his tummy on it. It makes you feel dirty to watch him do it, like you might be interrupting some very personal moment. It is funny as hell though, because sometimes he tips over while he is doing it.

And Charlie the Cat was not about to be left out of things. That goes to show you how ballsy he is, it would never cross his mind that walking into the path of a new dog is not likely in his best interests. And somehow, all that cockiness works for him, as mostly everyone leaves him be.
Meanwhile, short stuff has gotten a name. Or we think she has....we are trying to call her Cinder. Or I am. Barry calls her Shit Stain, or Browneye, or Charcoal, or Cinder Block, or some permutation of all of the above. She does not care what he calls her, as she is completely in love with him.
Isnt that how it always is? He does not want her here, so she has fallen head over heels for him. And because she is so precious, he is falling back, just like he always does. This is her laying in the floor by his chair. Of all the places she could choose, she wants to be by him. Her best day ever has been when she got to sit in his lap on Sunday nite--she was beside herself.
She is even winning over the main man Slater. Although you can not tell that from this pic--he is giving her the very suspicious side-eye. This whole get on the couch with him thing absolutely disgusted him, but he is trying really hard to not be a tool about it and tolerate her. I hear they even played together in the front yard while I was at work on Monday. She jumped in bed with him on Monday morning, and the look on his face was absolutely priceless. He stared hard at the wall, and refused to acknowledge her while she flopped around in the bed like a crazy, wiggling and knocking herself all over trying to cuddle up to Barry. That is a huge tribute to Slater's attempt to be good, as he believes the bed is his kingdom, and we kind of let him think that. I know he likely wanted to pop her head right off, but he just drilled his eyes into the wall and refused to have anything to do with her. I could tell he was getting angry, so I was very proud of him when he decided to just get up and go outside instead of get nasty with her.

This is a very funny house. I love all my little monsters, at least most of the time. Who else has all these personalities in their house without having to send any of them to college?

Scenes from Mardi Gras

In case you think this is a regular day in St Louis--this sign explains it all.

I have absolutely no idea why Bert and Ernie and Big Bird were there. But in some news about them, I always wondered what the relationship was between Bert and Ernie. They were not brothers, were they? After watching for a while, I can categorically state that they are not gay lovers. I promise.

This might be the bravest man in town. We arrived half way through Saturday's celebration and immediately saw several people who could not stay on their feet when they were just walking and this guy was on stilts. I did not see him move much, but he did stay upright, which is more than I could say for a whole lot of folks.

This is the balcony at Clementine's, across from Barry's old apartment. As usual, they had really good music, and of course, drag queens. That is hard to beat.

This I just cannot explain at all. And even more startling to me is that this is not the first time I have ever seen a man in a pecker suit. Where in the hell does a person even buy a weiner suit?

A piece of advice though--going sober to Mardi Gras is a lot like canoeing the Current River sober. It is just not the best idea you will ever make. Take my word for it, and do not make that mistake yourself.

In other news, we are out of propane again. That is starting to seem like a bad joke.

The contest weigh-out

I am so disappoint in the weight loss part of this competition. I started mid-January and it ended yesterday. I had lost between 12-16 pounds for the last month, it kept moving around there. When I weighed out, I had lost 11. That pisses me slap off. But then I got measured for the first time since November. I had not really lost any weight until January, so I am pretty sure these inches came off since mid-January. I lost three inches in my chest (which I am convinced is not a good thing) and four inches in my waist. That is a very good thing. I do not remember what came of my hips--maybe two inches? I lost inches everywhere, even 1/4 inch in my neck. I will have to check how much I lost of my thighs and calves. I took the weekend off from working my ass off, or at least I took off yesterday to show a horse and go to Mardi Gras. We just got back and I have to take a nap--knowing me, I will feel bad and be at the gym before it closes, which is at 6 on Sundays and is entirely too early. The Bad Boy came up with a whole new High Intensity Interval Training session on Friday that damn near killed me, but I loved it--clearly this is my new addiction. I also got the Brazilian Blowout for my hair that I have been talking about. I LOVE IT!~ I cannot tell you how much I love it. My products are not all in yet, but will be this week. I will get new pics when I have not slept on it, so I can show you. I cannot believe this is my hair--no frizz at all, and depending on how I dry it, it can be stick straight or with some bounce in it, which is what I wanted. I do not even care how much it cost--totally worth it!

What's my name?

Tonight we made a new addition to the house. That is assuming Barry lets me keep her. If he absolutely insists, I have another home for her, but I really want her to take care of Tazer. She is a teeny tiny Dane, 8.5 months old and I bet she does not weigh 40 pounds. She needs an awful lot of weight and to grow grow grow!

Also, what is the deal with her back legs? They are not quite right.

Tazer likes her, and Slater seems all right with it. The purpose of her is to give Tazer a friend so he does not chase horses any more. He has recovered from his brush with death when Sly punted him last week, but he needs to not do that anymore.

Tazer is really growing up too, finally putting on some weight. She is so teeny she could walk under his belly with no problem.

Her previous owner called her Paige, which is clearly not a possibility in this house.

Any ideas? no people names, and something unique--let's hear some suggestions!