Patient Management Update

Mathilda had a slight relapse on Thursday. Hubby was doing evening chores. She was fine – or at least status quo. He came down to the house. Five minutes later, he was back at the barn and she was unwilling to put weight on her bad leg. No idea what happened. We agree she took a funny step. He thinks she was fussing due to the storm. I chose to look at it as a good sign. When I’m really sick, I’m easy to deal with. Just put me to bed or shoot me. I don’t care which. When I start to recover, I get cranky & restless. I think she’s getting tired of standing in her gilded cage.

Doubled her dosage last night & she is much better. Today (Friday) I’ve been taking her out on several short grazes in place of two long ones and two quick carrot checks. Same number of trips to the barn, just reallocating the time. So, no substantive change in activity. The psychic toll, however, we do not need.

And now for something completely different. At our house, we spend July celebrating athleticism by sitting on our butts watching the Tour de France bike race. The intermediate sprints are marked with a green banner bearing the PMU logo and a horse head, video. It stands for Pari Mutuel Urbain, a French betting concern. A recent PMU entry into the insanity that is the publicity caravan.

All I can think of is
PREgnant MAre urINne

Do you Tour?

A Flash of Donkey

A donkey-themed restaurant.


———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Attention Real Photographers
Clearly, I have no idea how to handle artificial light or my flash. Two questions:
How would you photograph these objects, including a shiny silver wall-hanging and a heavily varnished wall mural if
a) You had all the time, access & equipment in the world?
b) You found yourself at lunch with a PhD camera (Canon PowerShot SD750) in your pocket and the access granted a normal customer?

And The Winner Might Be …

I have 3 questions:

1) This was a nomination. When are the winners announced? “It’s an honor to be nominated” & “I’m just happy to make the Team” are believable until the awards ceremony/competition. Then, I want to be up on the dais/in front of the victory gallop. Not making nice-nice noises with the also-rans.

2) Each nominee is supposed to nominate 15 addition blogs. The backtrail from here goes: Rodney’s Saga nominated by Writing From the Right Side of the Stall nominated by la Vida loca nominated by Crazy-Train to Tinky Town, at which point the path bifurcates as Crazy Train was nominated by several folks. That makes 5 generations, at least, which tops 50,000 blogs. (1st gen =1, 2nd gen = 15. 3rd gen = 225. 4th gen = 3,375. 5th gen = 50,625. Unless the originator is the 0th generation, which means 5th gen = 759,375.) So the question is, at what point do the number of nominations exceed the number of people on the planet?

3) What is it? I can’t Google a website nor an explanation of the award. Not even a Wikipedia entry, which I didn’t think was possible.

With the honor comes responsibilities:

1) I must thank & link back to the nominating blog, Writing From the Right Side of the Stall, which I do most heartily, despite the ungracious things I say herein. She’ll understand. She might even be proud. One of the things I admire about WFtRSotS is that she lets out the snark which I am too much of a pansy to express in print.

2) I must give 7 Surprising Things About Myself. Nope. I am not a person of hidden depths. High-maintenance, moody, difficult – sure. Subtle, complicated, abounding in subtext – no. Meet me for an hour, or read my back posts, and you will know all there is to know: I read science fiction [Barn Books], I play with LEGO [BrickFair: day 2], I like animals [entire archive], etc… No one has ever said to me, “You’ve been quiet over there. Tell us what you’re thinking.” This outlook has advantages. Passive aggressive tactics get no traction. If a person says, “Let’s do X.” while meaning, “If you loved me, you would do Y.” I simply wag my tail like a big, happy dog and go forth to do X.

3) I must in turn nominate other blogs. The horse blogs I have found are listed on my blogroll, 32 & growing. Nominating half of them seems as selective as the 68-team playoff in NCAA basketball. A little exclusivity folks?

OTOH, I will use this as an excuse to plug non-horse blogs and to continue the triad theme I’ve got going:

Blithe Traveler. Also nominated by WFtRSotS, for recounting a life “which makes me very, very jealous (except when it comes to icky forest leeches).” The term you are looking for is support system, not mutual admiration society. I enjoyed her (BT not WFetc.) two $700 Pony books. When I went to China, I emailed her for advice. We stayed in touch. Did NaNoWriMo together, sharing daily word counts, encouragement, and crises. I read her blog. I’ve watch her children grow up in photographs. I retell her stories to Hubby. I tell her way TMI, I’m sure. I count her as a close friend. Yet, the one thing I keep forgetting about her is that we have never met. Is this virtual living a boon or creepy? Am I fashion forward or do I need to find three-dimensional friends?

into mind. A schizophrenic combination of Beautiful People make-up/jewelery/fashion and psychological insight of such depth that you can’t believe it comes from a 20-something [What].

My Body The City: The Secret Life of a Callgirl. This is the Internet. It could be true. It could be electronic codswallop. Either way, it’s a powerful account. If you’ve ever wondered why women don’t just leave such a life, she’ll convince you.

None of these mentions constitute a formal nomination. BT was just nominated, into mind and My Body are too popular to need my help, So the insanity stops here. Although, I reserve the right to change my mind.

What is your favorite non-horse blog?

I Do. But Why?

Horse Nation had a post on Top 10 Perks of Dating/Marrying a Horse Girl. I object to “girl” as would anyone with this much frost on her roof. However, it did make me wonder what Hubby gets out of living with my horse fixation. BTW – he knows he’s in it for the long haul. At one point, I idly floated the possibility of having no horses and doing other things with our time. He didn’t even stop to think. “No. I’m not living with you without a horse.” He’s a keeper, I tell you. So, aside from the wondrousness that is my serene and equitable disposition, what does he get out of the deal?

I understand competition. Get up at 2 am so we arrive in time to warm up before your boat race? Do all the driving so you can rest? Hand me the keys.

I understand toys. Carbon-fiber bicycle? Of course. If you are going to participate, you need the proper equipment.

Unless I’m dressing for a show, my looks are low-cost. I wouldn’t know where to get manis, pedis, salon cuts, or this year’s fashions. I once cut my hair with a set of clippers (Horse Nation #8). Seriously. I had long hair. I wanted short. No haircuttery would believe that I wanted it so super short. Wasn’t the worst my hair has ever looked.

I have a flexible attitude toward dirt. A person who has eaten leftover pizza during morning chores has lost her finicky cred.

I am in no position to object to dog hair. I still get a little stunned by large amounts of dog poop. Horse poop dries up to become essentially hay. Carnivore poop is .. nothing one wants to think about.

More on toys. We have a farm. Therefore, we have a tractor. Theoretically, we both can drive it. When it comes down to cases, he seems to be the one in the driver’s seat. Furthermore, when Hubby had an accident with our old tractor, I demanded he shop for the most expensive, latest model tractor that he could bring himself to buy.

Such a deal.

How does your horse hobby (or whatever) help your relationship?

Prior horse & husband post: Husband Training.

Showing in the Sun

On a hot summer day, let’s take it as read that activities requiring long pants are inherently ridiculous. The only sensible way to ride in the heat is to put on a pair of shorts, hop on bareback, and head to the creek. That said, I went by what I hope to be my new lesson barn [Random], Stepping Stone Farm, to check out their end-of-camp show last weekend.

How to Run a Show in the Sun

My first blue, beginner walk/trot at a camp show.

Recognize the evil necessity of camp. A deluxe training barn might charge enough to forgo the rugrat brigade. However, most farms of any discipline need the clients, whether it is summer-only or part of a program. I knew a barn in another state that brought kids in as up-downers and took them through to the Pony Finals. Two other barns in my area – one hunter, one hunter/jumper – had shows the same day.

Schedule low-key classes. Walk. Walk/Trot. Leadline Walk. Leadline Walk/Trot. You get the idea.

Motivate the judge. The classes flew. I don’t think the walk/trot/canter classes made it four times around a medium-sized ring. The announcer had trouble keeping up with the speed of the ring steward’s signals. I’ve ridden in hunter flat classes that I wished moved so fast.

Have the right horses. The Saddebreds shed heat like the tall, thin endomorphs they are. I’ve seen hunter/jumper shows in less heat where horses and riders looked more miserable. Rodney looks worse standing out in the field all by his big, fat self.

Yes, there are nits I could pick – starting with slapping helmets on all of the adults – but I hope to ride there. I’d rather not get thrown out before I even start. Everyone was friendly and the horses looked healthy & happy. That goes a long way.

Did you camp?

Riding Toward Random

I am I am one step closer to sitting on a horse. I am going to take Saddleseat lessons. I blame this blog.

In a previous post [Running on Empty], I asked for suggestions to awaken my motivation. A kindly commenter suggested, “Take a lesson at a random barn…..”. Had she said, “Take lessons”, my response would have been, ‘Yeah, yeah, tried that.’ English barns cost too much to make a habit of. The one nice-looking Western barn I found never responded [Checklist]. There are other barns, but I want an actual program with reliable lesson horses. Not someone with a handful of horses pimping out their riding horse for money.

However, she said, “Take a lesson at a random barn…..”. A few days earlier, we’d had dinner with friends whose granddaughter is at summer camp at Stepping Stone Farm (also Facebook), a local saddleseat barn. The two ideas fused together and became a plan. I’d go check out the gdaughter’s barn and maybe sign up for lessons. I can’t get more random than a discipline without a jump nor a speed class in sight.

Of course, I have the usual Hunter/Jumper & Eventing prejudices about the Saddleseat industry. But, I’ve learned to take my own prejudices with a grain of salt. During my Kentucky pilgrimages [Pereginatio], I stayed with a family, one branch of which rides Saddleseat. At their farm, I saw a bit that looked as if it was made out of bicycle chain. I was horrified. Unfortunately, Rolex doesn’t have an unblemished record for bringing all entries home safely. No horses were dropping dead at Saddleseat shows. They were probably as appalled at Eventing as I was at their bit.

At Stepping Stone, the owner/head trainer asked about my experience. I said I had ridden but it had been a while. Which is all too despairingly true. I was surprised that she didn’t ask more. However, given the smoke horse folks can blow, how would she know what to believe? Having run afoul due to perky eagerness in my youth, I tend to undersell in horse situations. She couldn’t know that. Besides, she’ll find out whatever needs first time I get on a horse. The barn always starts with simple one-on-one walk/trot classes until a new rider is settled. I have no objection. Even if Rodney & I were thundering around, I know essentially zip about saddleseat.

Any advice from Saddleseat riders out there?
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
You know it’s hot when the cats start to melt.

Shopping, Sorta

Pat me on the back. I went to see a horse. Okay, there was a snowball’s chance in summer that anything would come of it, but I entertained the possibility. A friend told me that the local animal shelter had a horse for adoption. I went because a) Mark Todd says you should go look at every horse. There is that snowball’s chance that it might be Charisma standing out in that dog pen & b) more realistically, I could post a few shots on Facebook & with local horse groups. By the time I arrived the next day, she had already been adopted. Score one for the good guys.

She was as homely as you could expect a shelter horse to be. Each individual section had its merits, on six different horses. She had a head so roman and so ugly that it was coming back around to cute, what the French call “jolie laide“. She looked up from the grass long enough to give me look that said, “Yeah, I know you’re there. I just don’t chose to care.” Given a home that wants attitude over athleticism, she’ll be a star.

As I was unsure about the privacy issues of posting a picture of an adopted horse – especially given the kind things I had to say about her, Instead, I give you their fire hydrant. Someone there has a sense of humor.

Back on the homefront: just when I thought activity around here had come to a screeching halt, we hit triple-digit heat & everything slows down even further. Rodney is too sweaty to groom. It’s too hot to take Mathilda out for a graze, other than first thing am & last thing pm. While I know it is for therapy, I cannot bring myself to put heating pads on their backs in this weather.

A chance to catch up on work, you say? Clean the house? Not so. Our ancient HVAC system has finally died, requiring not only a new AC but all new duct work. Project has been scheduled but will take several days. So, cool air is two weeks at best. It’s hard to rev up the energy to do more than press buttons to summon electronic entertainment. With the shaded, airy barn & heavy-duty fans, the horses have it better off than we do. Not unusual chez nous.

Do you follow the Phil & Paul show?