FaaaHHHREEEZinggg.

It's gonna be like that, huh?

Mutch and his BFF

This dog keeps coming to my door at random times barking and whining incessantly until I let Mutch out. I think he has taken my dog as his best friend. It's really a cute thing and it cracks me up when I hear his whining coming from outside. He stopped by this afternoon for some playtime. He has a collar on one out of every three times he comes over.


Young dogs LOVE Mutch. It's really an odd thing because my dog is grouchy and crabby when others want to play. He will chase them off until he gets so fed up and only then will he start running around and playing. At the dog park he just wants to hang out with the girl of his choice and be chill and he gets pestered by all the lab puppies. Very entertaining.

Here are a few shots around the new barn.

Part of Belda's menagerie of dogs is Ali the Afghan. He's sneaky. As soon as you turn to walk off he sneaks up and gooses you.


the back of the barn.


Faluke heading out to play. He's a 25 year old TB, a sweet sweet guy.


I have Dusty in the small turnout. I love the wooden fences.


The riding arena.

Look at Dusty, he was yawning. His eyes are bright again. He is defiantly happier here. I'm thinking that the herbs and chiropratic worked out for him also. I took these photos today.




a simular photo from about this time last year.

Diner- Pensacola Fl. (a review) in my opinion

**This post is edited. Any factual place or experience existing here in Pensacola Florida that would happen to be a diner is strictly coincidence. Any and all statement here are a mere replay of the food fantasies and delusions that I am haunted by in my sleep.**

My only credentials to be able to execute a review on a restaurant are that I pretty much have spent a good majority of my life working in a restaurant, or behind a bar. I KNOW how this is supposed to work. I am certain that I could walk into a restaurant and have confidence being in charge. It's a passive aggressive dance with hungry customers and the staff just wants to know they're doing a good job.

In my opinion the first thing needed to make a restaurant work: servers that know how to wait on a table.

Name: Vesille Diner

Location: Cervantes St. by the interstate and across from that tire place that has a "10" in it.

Years in making: about 12

The recently opened diner is located in that building on Cervantes St. that all Pensacolians have been staring at for the last seven years. I noticed it was open when I was driving around at 9:30pm looking for someone to still be serving food in the land of "all ye good christians go to bed by 9:30pm". The sign said "open 24 hours" so I went in.

I entered alone so I sat at the bar to fill my aching stomach. The set up is very similar to the WH (that's Waffle House). Open grill where you can see all the boogers the cook is rubbing on your meatloaf, and if anyone wears plastic gloves to handle the food. I cannot handle the server having their hands all over my food. Piling lettuce in a bowl for my salad with bare hands? YUK. Fingers all over the rim of my glass? YUK.

As soon as the servers got it straight who was supposed to wait on me I was handed a paper menu with three pages of food on it. One was breakfast. I didn't want that. I'm HUNGRY. I took a look around the room. The place is clean. The aesthetics are very nice. Atmosphere is quaint and not so much Mel's Diner as it resembles Starbucks. Things were unsystematic to say the least. The friendly server came over to me and asked me what I would like to drink. I asked for a Coke. She informed me that it was Pepsi. I didn't want that. When in doubt about a beverage past the Manson-Nixon line? - Sweet Tea.

She came back with my drink promptly and asked if I would like to order.

"what's good here? I've never been here before."

She smiled as she griped her pen getting ready to write on the small tablet "Uhm, well? I don't know. It's my first day here. I just started working here a few hours ago. I had the shrimps it was really yummy."

OOOOOWWWWH SHIT.

I'm HUnnnNnnnGRY. Here she stands without anyone even following her to help. Help would insure me of the fact that I will get food soon, and correctly. And she tells me that she had the shrimps?? whAt? when you were filling out your application?? "owh well." I thought to myself. "maybe she's so good that she doesn't need any help."

I just can't bare to order shrimps that were frozen from any restaurant around here. I ended up getting the meatloaf which I was perfectly in the mood for. I ordered a side salad also. My drink had been sitting there empty and I watched the waitress scurry around waiting on the other tables. It looked as if NOBODY had any idea what the hell was going on. Food was coming up in the "window" and it sat there for at least five to seven minutes while the correct server was located to deliver the order. Second thing to make a restaurant work: Food getting to the customers before it is cold.

A few large tables came in and the cooks got nervous. I still hadn't got my drink refilled and it looked like my food was getting ready to come off the grill. Dang. I wanted that salad. I watched my waitress walk away after she took my order. She did not go retrieve my salad. She disappeared into the back. I didn't want that.

The cook slid my plate into the "window" which was on the counter about a foot away from me and I slid it over closer. The meatloaf was so hot that I couldn't even touch it. I poked at the mashed potatoes and took a small bite. Cold.

My stomach begins to grumble at me.

When my server came out from the back the cook noticed that I never got my salad and pulled the server over to let her know as I watched. She headed over to her purse, took out some germ killing gel and squirted it into her hands.

"owh. my. god. she is not." I thought. She is. Over to the salad cooler she went, pulled out the giant bag of lettuce and stuck her hand right inside. "wha.wahhhhhhhhh." I whined to myself. I could just imagine my long awaited salad tasting like germ killer. Let me let you in on a little secret. IT'S A MARKETING PLOY PEOPLE. She put the salad in front of me without any salad dressing.

I just sat there and ate the food. Whatever up to this point, but at least I have food. As I sat there texting my friend on what a CF this place is I then noticed a server making something that looked rather interesting. It was something with ice cream and toppings, and YUM. I caught her eye and said "that looked really good! would you please make me one?". I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut. The result was so incredible that I had to sketch it out right at that moment.

Factual representation. wahh.wahhhhh.

I looked at my receipt and it said "toppings..........$.89" huh? I asked about it. I got charged eighty nine cents for the chocolate that the girl put on my brownie! I think my face was stuck in one of those "if you don't stop it will freeze like that" poses.

I glanced over to see where she took the xanadu of all ice cream sundaes. A table of four cute boys.

End of story.

I've been there twice and it pretty much went like this both times. So if you go, you most likely will want to like it but leave agitated and wondering what the hell just happened and on the verge of grabbing the manager's tag and having dialogue.

Idora Park's "Wild Cat"
A friend of mine posted this pic on his blog and wrote an excellent entry about the infamous Wild Cat at Idora Park.

Idora park was a little amusement park in my city that started off as a dance hall in the big band era. It was a main stop on the tour of some of the biggest in Jazz back then. My grandmother used to tell me about going dancing there and later my mom told me of "soc hops" that took place in the amazing grand ballroom. Every horse on the carousel was hand painted.

The park changed a lot over the the years, sadly for the worst. The end came too soon when this ride caught fire in 1984 (? I think). It was a day that all locals remember where they were. I was watching billowing smoke from just a mile away out of the window of my third grade class. A few years of shabby operation and it finally went to auction. All the vintage items were sold. I have always wished I had gotten some signage.

I remember the annual party called the "Spring Thing", it must have been a reall groovy time because I was never allowed to go. It was "for adults".

I can just imagine what it must have been like being 18-20 years old in the early seventies and living in my hometown with Idora Park open and thriving. It was a really happenin' place, maAan. There were a lot of long-hairs hanging out...

Dusty does airs.

Dusty has been feeling so much better lately. He has gotten his spunk back. I'm sure that a lot of it is due to the sweet feed he is on now. He's not getting enough to make him insane (and plus, he's out of work) but just enough to make him a little more lively. He's like he was when I first got him.

His injury is healing more rapidly. He is so happy to be with and around other horses. Although he is alone now when he's turned out from what I've seen over the fence he will fit into the herd well. He's no tough guy, but he likes to play.

I picked up a bright orange ball at the store and took it to him the next day. I showed it to him and he came over to check it out. Then he decided that he hated it and turned around, walked outside and stood with his butt to me. So I started bouncing it in the aisle and the other horses got interested. He appeared at his stall door jealous and then decided he liked the ball. I threw it into his paddock.

As I was cleaning his stall I sent him outside and a minute later I heard knocking sounds coming from outside. I went to look...
My horse was kicking this ball. He was tossing his head around and shuttling the ball around with his nose. When he got it in the air he was so proud of himself that he would jump straight UP off the ground with all four feet. When it rolled under his belly he would rear and trot off a few steps...

I was worried about his injury, but he was wrapped and I just couldn't stop this. I stood there and watched my horse play with this ball like I'd NEVER seen a horse play with a ball ever before. I got rather teary. It it such a relief to see DustyMan have a personality again. He knickers at me often. He is happy here. phew. So am I.

He's smart about himself, but he is inquisitive and playful.

Ring, ring...ring, ring...
"Hello, um? is this Belda?" (I substituted the name)
"Yes, this is Belda." a polite French woman said on the other end of the phone.
"Hello, My name is Christine and I was referred to you by Blankity Blank and Blankity Blank. I hear that you take very fabulous care of your horses and I am looking to move my pony to a barn like that." I said.

"Ohhh..I dunno about zat. I don't want any boarders. I dont even like the ones I have now, I wish they would all leave..." Her lovely aged voice sounded irritated. She continued..."have you gone to check with SheeeeeARhd (some other French sounding sound)? he is out on Blankitson road."
I chuckled because I KNOW what this is...

"Yes, mam. I know of SheeeeeARhd and I have worked for him. I have ridden with him. I respect him. I have heard such great things about you and your horses that I'm sorry you have no room. I would really like to meet you." I retorted.

She actually chuckled and said "well, let me see...maybe we can work somezing out. My boarders only pay $*** because they help me out around the barn. I am old and I have things that I can not do all the work anymore. I call them my slaves (lol), my LOVING slaves..."

I was sitting at the end of her long driveway. I was planning on showing up unexpected but there was a gate. She let me in and showed me around. We had a very nice conversation and she told me that she does something that nobody else around does with their horses.

Belda gives them a warm mash and warm lemonade at night for dinner. They get the BEST 12% feed- NOT PELLETTS, some beet pulp, some alfalfa all mixed together with warm water. Then it is covered to "cook" while the lemonade is served in their buckets. She says that it relaxes them. I'm down.

I made plans to come back the next day and get the stall she had appointed to me ready for Dusty.

Originally, she said there weren't any paddock stalls left so he would be in a box stall. When I got there I was very happy because she moved one of her horses so that Dusty can have a paddock. I thought that was very nice.

I asked my friend and farrier, Matt to help me out. I needed to get a truck and trailer. I knew that he maybe had a truck to use, and I like making fun of his fat dog so, I thought it would be fun. We got to the Belda's barn with a load of tack. The plan was to use her truck, go to BFE to get the trailer, come back to move him a mile.

"Where iz zis place your barn?" she asked.
"oh, it's just right down the road, maybe a mile." I said to her as Matt looked at me with wide eyes she spoke the words that I already thought of...
"Well, zen, you wrap his leg up and can you walk him? he can use his leg right? Matt? ziz horse iz ze good horse noh?"

Instantly Matt says "YEAH. We'll walk him."
I'm like, helloooooo it's me? the horses OWNER?- "yah! I guess we could walk him. Lets do it"
"You go. Before traffice gets too heavy. You be fine." She sent us off.

Gulp. Hello? my five year old baby Thoroughbred hasn't trotted a line in two months and were gonna walk him? A mile? down the road? I needed a Xanex badly. Matt began making fun of me, so I cracked on his fat ass dog and it took my mind off of what was about to happen.

We started off down the road of the old barn and I pretty much told Matt to bugger off- "I'll take him." I told him when he tried to grab the lead rope. We walked down towards the horses on the end of the street and Dusty got a little lookie- nothing big, just looking. I got a little bit nervous. Kinda. Sorta. I felt a little tinge of adrenalin and handed the lead rope over. "I just want to watch him walk. I need to see him move" I said, as Matt continued with him from the long driveway onto the side of the road.

It was effortless. Dusty was so well behaved I couldn't believe it. Fed Ex trucks, Busses, Little girls running up to him, kids on bikes, dogs barking and running...he didn't even care. His eyes were wide but never any snorting or excited-ness. He loves new things. He's smart about himself, but he is inquisitive and playful.

Something else good came out of the walk. The swelling on his leg had come down more than it was with anything that I was doing to it. More proof that horses NEED to be moving around.

I just can't be having so much pre-saturn in my post-saturn plan.

One of my main concerns right now while my horse is not getting any exercise per say, is to make sure that his head is happy. I am very careful to monitor his attitude because I think if he is in a good positive and playful mood that he is bound to heal quicker. It's got to work just like a person, right?

There were some things going on at the barn that I boarded him at. Even though the barn manager took very good care of the horses, Dusty was pretty much on his own. The people that had horses there as well as the BM had never seen anyone spend so much time with their horse. I had never seen someone not. The other horses on the property were pretty much yanked out of their pastures every two weeks to walk around with sacks of potatoes on their backs. And, HEY, that's fine. The horses were loved and cared for but the Dusty man is an athlete, not a pasture pet. If those horses could work they would have jobs. Dusty has a career (so-to-say).

The family that lived on the property really took me into their lives, and for that I am thankful. For the anger management issues and family related problems going on there I am not. I thought that I was about to get hit by a 50 year old man because I put Dusty in his night pasture during the day. It happened once before when I asked for the fan to be put up in D's stall because it was getting hot. I got attitude because the fan would use TOO MUCH ELECTRICITY.

It got to the point where I was afraid to ask him to clean out the water trough in the pasture because lilly pads were growing in it. If I did it, then I would get yelled at. He took it as "you won't do your job, so I have to just do it myself." Instead of what I was really trying to do- help out. He wouldn't let me get my horse out of the pasture when he was there. It was HIS JOB. I was a caretaker of 32 horses, it's a hard job and a little help was always appreciated. I couldn't add sawdust. I couldn't give hay. I couldn't clean his water-er. It was like I wasn't even PAYing for these things. If you know me, you will know that I love barn chores. I'm certified.



It was the "pasture incident" day when he was totally irrational. I was calm, just listening to him having a meltdown (it reminded me of my father's worst day times TEN), with his mare attached to him via a lead line wrapped around her neck as he is screaming and shuffling the horse around yanking her neck all over the place. "I want you gone, Chris. I REALLY DO! I want you gone now! Go get the trailer! get that horse out of here!!!NO! MOVE HIM NOooooW!"

Although it ended as it did before, a total apology and words retracted, I couldn't have this behavior around my horse, or around ME. Not anymore...no matter how awesome his German Shorthaired Pointer was.

I feel that I should make it a point to say that these people took care of me. I asked for a bucket warmer and they installed a hot water tank on the wash rack. Whenever I asked for something they made sure to listen. I was appreciative for that and let it be known.
This was just a decision that I had to make. No hard feelings.

Dusty getting Electromagnetic- therapy and chiro.

I would jump over the deck and run down to the street

Lula in the cabin.

I went to Pigeon Forge, Tn. for a trade show to help out. The owner of the company got us a cabin IN the great smokey mountains to stay in while we were there. It was so incredible I can't even describe how needed the trip was for me. I'm very lucky to have been able to go.

There are miles and miles of laughs to get from an old style telephone hanging on the wall and Tequila. "So? for call waiting, do you turn this thing a few more times? for 911 do you just turn it furious-ly? (demonstration)"

The cabin was so in the woods it was like a tree house. I had never been to the Great Smokies before but I can tell you I would really love to return soon. There was a hot tub on the deck of the cabin and most nights I would be left alone sitting amongst the trees, under the moon enjoying each moment. Except for the one night where Lula and I finished off the bottle of Cuervo in the tub and she went in to pass out. I was all alone outside the cabin. Deep in the woods. Half naked. It was all the sudden the making of a bad horror movie and my imagination got so carried away I had my escape plan all mapped out. For when the killer came. He would creep in through the screen door and I would hide under the water...then I would jump over the deck and run down to the street where the killer's buddy would befriend me and tell me he's taking me to safety, only to end up at his camp...
I scared myself. No matter how hard I tried I could not get my thoughts back to that cute boy I talked to earlier. I finally got enough courage to get out of the tub and run into the house. Only one thing. I had to put the cover on the hot tub...

Peach Park! a park with scared pony sculptures that led to a BBQ stand! I LOVE the south!



"Cath, why did you spook the pony?"


Oh yah? lets see a WHOLE city!

Dusty man: laid up.

Dusty has been off work of any kind for about three months now. I haven't been on his back or the back of many other horses for three months. It is frustrating.


Left, back. See where it bulbs out above the fetlock (ankle)?

He has a suspensory injury. This page tells it best. This is probably the reason he started kicking out and trying to bite my foot off back in April of this year. He was "stuck" then he went lame. He was seen by a vet in town and even though he was sour with the left hock flex test and X-rayed hock clear, she never even said anything about maybe a high suspensory. I would like to think that a vet fresh out of school would be familiar with this injury, or that maybe if she thought, for a few minutes about my horse and his symptoms that I could have gone home with "maybe high suspensory" and not "bute twice a day, time off." I'm getting really sick of the "BUTE. TIME OFF." If my horse is hurting then there is a REASON. That reason may be surfacing because my very willing and forward horse WON'T MOVE. I wish I had read the article I linked to back in April. He had most of the symptoms.

If you called your doctor and told him that all the sudden you couldn't walk and he told you to take an asprin and don't walk what would you say? It's just frustrating. Medical professionals could have diagnosed this before he got to this point. He was, as I thought, hurting in there somewhere.

I tried this DMSO stuff that did nothing. So then I got some poultice and it worked to take the swelling down. I am NOT giving him bute everyday. He has not had any reactions to it, but I've read about the studies. He was ultrasounded by a different vet that comes to my new barn and he said six months off. I've been keeping him in standing wrap mostly all the time. I've been using heat instead of cold (because no one ever told me to use heat through this whole thing). The swelling is finally going down. It's looking really good.


Dusty in his (now) ever present standing wrap

Nights like this.

I love nights like this. The Southern air is warm but chilly and the rain has made it foggy and drizzly outside. The humidity and the fog makes it feel sexy all around. I call it a sexy night.

Don't say its bullshit.

(The post about my childhood that I wrote had been sitting in the "drafts" folder for sometime...)
The day after I wrote that I did one of the routine things that I do on my computer daily. I checked my "astrology" widget on the dashboard of my mac.
Here's what I saw:


This really freaked me out because I happen to be in a pretty gray mood and I wrote this post with exactly what the astrology widget said in my thoughts.

I had to take a screen grab and put it up because I observe astrological theories and most of the time I feel that these little daily horoscopes are really to broad, much too general to compare to myself. They are merely for a chuckle, I suppose. BUT NOT THIS ONE. Whoever is writing the daily horoscopes for the mac widget is RIGHT. ON (for me). I would say eight out of ten times it really coincides with my day.

I'm wondering if any other mac users have this same experience?

It was my birthday and we went to see Rocky Horror. I wore this. Since it's not exactly everyday that I am dressed like this I took some shots (there are a few more on my Flickr)
Happy Birthday all ya'll crazy Scorpios!

Helen was a firecracker.

I miss my grandmother. I wish she was here so that I can tell her "Grandma! you were right! there is NOTHING to like about that music, this really IS the good stuff!" Enjoy a cup of tea with her, while listening to Louis Armstrong as we sit in her little garden of flowers.

NPR played a song tonight on the "Swing Chronicles" that I distinctly remember coming on the radio while driving in her car. I was about thirteen, and making a whole lot of fun out of her music.

little slub

If anyone has noticed, I haven't been writing a lot lately. I'm escaping the jaws of bad grammar for pictures and other interesting tid-bits. There are a whole lot of things that I do not write about. A WHOLE LOT. Many times I feel that I should write more about my life- my career, my love life, my friends and the way I feel about my family. Then three hours passes..."what was I thinking?!". I like to read blogs of people who aren't afraid to put things out there. Reading through the thoughts of others helps me to remember that I am normal and not the first to feel completely defeated and lonely at times. I'm getting old. I'm single. I have no children. Although I am accomplished in my field I am working pretty much paycheck to paycheck and stretching it. And my credit? I'm going to instead think about my childhood.

My childhood life.
I was a lil badass in my middle class neighborhood filled with two story houses. I rode a pink/pink flowered banana seat Schwinn 3 speed everywhere. I had the NICEST bike. I polished the fenders and the spokes with chrome polish then went to play some kick ball in "the field". It was not odd for a group of kids to be running around Mill Creek Park (unattended) until sundown. I climbed trees and carved names in them with pieces of broken glass. I punched boys in the jaw when they made fun of me because my mom befriended the weirdo in the neighboorhood with matted hair. And I did this all with a dress on most of the time. I had a cockapoo named Bootsy. I LOVED Bootsy so much. Thinking of that dog brings tears to my eyes.

I established the neighborhood's "hide out", a special club that you could only get into by a series of tests. We lit evergreens on fire as incense and smoked cigaretts and played truth-or-dare. "The Warriors" was my neighborhood. At least that's how I remember it.

As we got older, our game of flashlight tag turned into "hide & go get it" whereas, you hid like in hide-and-go-seek, except you had to makeout with whomever you found. This didn't last too long and began to seem monotomus when the boys would keep blurting out EXACTLY where they would be hiding when it was the girls turn. The neighbor next door had a bunch of rabbitts (yes. Rabbits.), I begged and begged for one. I got one and soon ended up with three adorable tiny baby bunnies. Mom finally let us get a cat only to have my little brother, Frankie get cat-scratch fever. Maybe this was why he all of the sudden decided that his name would be spelled "Frankee"? Then I got another little brother, Steven. I had my mind set on that being a Stephanie.

I raised half of the money to purchase a beautiful Red Honda Spree Scooter by cutting grass throughout the neighborhood. I wheeled that green Lawn Boy with pull-start all over the place. I HATED IT. I had to jump in the air to get it started. When people paid me they would invite me in and I would look at all the misc things in their houses. I was selling magazines for school when the elderly woman across the street practically threw me out of her house because I couldn't remember her name and she spotted that I wrote "OLD LADY" on the entry form space reserved for her. My parents were friends with a rock star. He drank an awful lot of gin. He only lived a few streets away and I remember one day when he took Frankie and I back to his house to wake his girlfriend up (?). We climbed on the roof and went in through the window. She awoke startled to say the least and after grabbing the sheets like hundred dollar bills from heaven she said to me "honey, can you please pass me those panties over there?"

I was in public school until third grade. I remember the exact moment when I was sitting on the side of the principal's desk as she was threatening to spank me. I was this close to getting a spanking (which was nothing out of the norm at home) AT SCHOOL and I was scared shitless. I can't even tell you what it was that I did. I remember always getting into trouble that's it. Damn I spent a lot of time in the corner!

I thank the Principal of Sheridan School for shaping my problem with authority, however she cannot take all the credit because by third grade I was a chubby adolescent in a catholic school uniform. Pleats pressed so well you could ice skate on them. I didn't share a "best friend" charm with anyone. I thought I was close once in sixth grade, but Nikki got caught smoking cigarettes by her mom and blamed it on me. She's the one that I was passing the intercepted note to that read "suck my fucking twat you asshole bitch. Vagina." Not an immaculate interception by any means, that went home in an envelope. I just learned those funny words from my older cousins. I had asked my mom if she had kept this or not, it cracks me up now. Imagine Mrs. Brooks going home to her husband all like "So, You'll never guess what happened at catholic school today..."
The boys laughed at me mostly. The cheerleaders were all friends so I was on danceline with the rest of the girls that wanted to be cheerleaders but weren't cool enough. I really enjoyed the friends I had, but I was always a little more odd than the rest. Fitting in was troubling. If I had a detention (which was often) my parents made me walk home from school. It was far. In sixth grade, I got jumped for the first and last time on this 2 mile walk. I peed my pants and none of the passing cars stopped to help my friend or me.
To be continued....

This is quite interesting to say the least.

good stuff

I scan the internets now and then for a nice, solid, old school tack trunk and I found this: Tack Trunks Etc.

I scan no more. These are delightful.

Circle K three am.

Overheard at the

Drunk Girl: "If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought it down."

what exactly does this mean? It's a really pretty song, but wtf does that mean? Was her reflection on the snow covered hills before the landslide? why was it on the snow covered hills? Are the snow covered hills a nice place to be? because if it is, my version would be "if you seEEEHhe my reflectIOn in the pot covered fields, the po-hhh-lieeece broOought it down."

me: LMFAO

Amend the PLAN, listen to your horse

I had anticipated getting on Dusty today and get this big great awesome ride out of him since his teeth were just "flotated"

-NHPeople: this means they file down their back molars till the whole line of them are even across the tops. My vet did this with a power drill with a little round sander at the end, a speculum and one tiny dose of some kind of anesthesia. Old school they did this with a file and a twitch. This in general is supposed to solve a whole plethora of problems with how a horse is going. If they are not chewing right then the neck is all messed up, and so the back, and so the hind etc...I suppose, perhaps not in that order.

The vet was out on Friday and gave him all of his vaccines, aside from floating his teeth. I wasn't too sure about giving them all at one time, but she said it would be alright, or I could stretch it out (which means more trips in the trailer, or more $60 farm calls). I saw all of the syringes... Encephalitis, Tetanus, Influenzua, Rhino, West Nile, and Rabies. He was just standing there with his head almost on the ground practically drooling. She said about 20-25 mins. I waited almost an hour to fed him. Still dropping pellets, but not as much. I think the dropping of food is just that he's messy.

His temp has been just a tad over (99.5, today) what it is normally and I'm sure that's because of all of those shots. He feels "warm" (?) to me. I'm trying to keep him very low stress and whattaknow he goes and scratches his thigh on something. I thought about checking him to see if he was off because of it, but I didn't. I wasn't going to ride or anything anyway.

When I pulled into the driveway today he was out grazing on the lush yard grass and he raised his head and said "HEEEYYY!!" to me. He was in a totally lovable mood, went into his stall as soon as I entered the barn. He just wanted LOVE. Very pleasant mood. He has had pretty much three days off in a row, very relieved that the heat of summer is beginning to let up.

I groomed him and the tail was a bit more active today than usual. So were the flies that were biting his ankles.

He was lazy. Lazy while lunging, LAZY while riding. Forward motion was DRAGGING along. He started arguing with me when I asked for the trot again like months before. He was starting to get louder and I was all: "NO WAY. WE GO." I thought at first that IF it was his teeth that were the problem at first then this reaction is just in his brain. All I planned for today was a long stretch out. He has been enjoying this warmup and today he wasn't even thinking about stretching. not. for. a minute.

I engaged into a little bit of dialogue with him and he, like he always does agreed and stretched. A Little. Whenever I put my inside leg on him the least little bit he turned his head and yelled at me. (WHA???). Still, I persisted. He obliged (ears flipped back at me instead of forward and relaxed) and I stopped the work. I thought that I would give it to him and then see what he feels like doing. I let him walk me around the arena, as soon as I was on the buckle he headed straight for the poles on the ground (uh? I guess he just wants to have fun today?) I think it was a total of 20 minutes.

We went for a walk around the pond and up and down some little hills. He has really had a easy week for the most part and maybe his body hurts from all those shots, maybe that scratch he won't let me touch, maybe he just wasn't feeling like being ridden today, maybe he just wanted to hang out today? Whatever it may be he was NOT feeling like work, so I listened, I think he got it. He was just as lovable when I got off as he was before ride. My lesson today was: "Amend the PLAN, listen to your horse."

Can all horses do this?

Not so Rusty Dusty; a workout.

This is about a 45 min session. -
 

Warm up. Half seat. Get off his back and make him long and low.

I begin to ask for a little bit more moving him more into my hands and more "up" on a big circle. I like to begin my sitting trot with no stirrups. 

More trot.

Some outside bends to loosen him up just a little moOore...

Change rein. Circle. Getting better...

AHHhh and there it is.

A pretty trot. Some circles, some more outside bends, some change of bends, changes of  ze rein, oh, and transitions.

Then he gets to stretch it all out :) 

I cantered him this day also - that's quite not ready for photos.....he thinks he's racing again or something, he just wants to RUN. AND IT'S FUN!

This is yours.

Sorry I really don't mean to "go here" on my blog but this...this is truly well written to say the least.

"... is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug."

"...is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals."

"..is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it a "light" burden."

"... is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you."

"...is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges"

"... is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--"

This is Your Nation on White Privilege by Tim Wise

Time for artsy fartsy!

Here's a set of Illustrations that I just drew. I think its rather cute.


And a watercolor I just finished:


yay! It feels good to do artwork that doesn't come with "COPY THIS" tagline.

Here's Dusty after a workout!

I'm LOVING this site!

My Gustav

My experience with Hurricane Gustav.
1. Mild freaking out with horse moving worries.
2. Mild freaking out with Pensacolans getting GAS in many containers.
3. Fun on the beach on Sunday, which was not closed.
4. The end of the Pensacola Beach Pier like a "REAL LIVE AQUARIUM" Sea Turtles, Dolphins, Manta Rays, Sting Rays, Sharks and fishermen catching tons of Fish.

about a movie

I just watched this movie last night. Did you know the Director, Adrienne Shelly was MURDERED in 2006? She wrote, directed and acted in the movie. It's a really great little comedy, the characters are practically people that I have known. The movie kind of reminds me of "Secretary" another movie that I really enjoyed.

It's really tragic that a 17 year old Illegal alien and a talented blooming actress, director and writer had to cross paths ON MY BIRTHDAY.