Today I took down the Christmas tree. Well, not really down. I put a huge garbage bag over the entire thing, decorations and all, and wrestled it up the stairs to storage.
The middle part of the building where we celebrated Christmas last year has been pretty much shut off to help save on heating this huge barn of a building. We pass through to do other things and get to the garage, and walk past the Christmas tree. Like ignoring the elephant in the room. “What Christmas tree?”
The stairs in this building were constructed when people were smaller and not expected to live as long. One of the reasons they did not live as long was from climbing stairs at that pitch. Alternatively, if the stairs do not kill you going up, they have an even better chance to take you out going down. I can attribute some of my reluctance to store the Christmas tree to a survival instinct to see another Christmas.
There is something about a Christmas tree in May, that even with all the decorations still intact, looses a huge part of looking festive or even attractive. Hard to explain.
I left a yuletide Hansel and Gretel trail of ornaments as the tree, garbage bag and I battled the stairs.
A handy tip for anyone taking their tree upstairs: Unplug the extension cord before you head up the stairway.
Merry Christmas!
The Last Couple of Days
I took Dulci out of the round corral while Jim and “Hope” had an in depth discussion about whether or not she was going to be caught that night. “Hope” kept up her end of the conversation quite well and brought several new and unusual topics to the table.
While they discussed, Dulci and I went for a short walk and little stops for grazing in the green grass along the lane. I got out my mixture of gentle iodine and baby oil and treated the skinned places and dandruffy areas again. The first treatment last week did wonders and the hair is quickly returning and the scales from her tail have disappeared. She seems to appreciate the attention and leans into the rubbing.
The tarp that had been covering the hay had blown nearly off, so I rearranged it and laid it out flat on the ground and let Dulci graze around it. She worked her way up to investigate the tarp on the ground and after she lost interest, I walked forward and over the tarp and asked her to follow. She never hesitated but stepped right onto the tarp. Her knees went up to her breast bone with each step as she tested the crackly ground, but she never faltered and never got scared. We hung out together then and she grazed and watched Hope and Jim.
The good ending was that Jim won the debate and Hope got caught and rewarded and turned loose again.
I have been busy with the last of the redraws for the Storey Publications book on Draft Horses and Mules coming out this fall. I will need those all done and sent back in a couple of weeks. Once I could see the final form of the book, there were a couple of drawings I pulled and decided to redo that I felt could be better.
My “boys”, the Arabian half brothers have become real horses this year. They will need lots of riding and driving. No more little babies, this winter they shot up (and out) and look magnificent. When they shed the last of the winter belly fur, I will take some photos. Their black hides look like mirrors. I will have to start getting up before daylight soon and start playing with them. It’s the only way to make sure my day starts out right.
12 Step Program
It may be broadly stated that, with the single exception of goldfish, of all animals kept for the recreation of mankind the horse is alone capable of exciting a passion that shall be absolutely hopeless.
-Bret Harte
The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem
My name is Bethany Caskey and I’m a Horseaholic.
Pat Parelli divides the human race into two groups. There are the people that love horses…and “the other kind”.
If you have the affliction of horse love, you understand the condescending nods, the bewildered sighs, and head shaking of the “other kind”. You are viewed as otherwise sane and but for this eccentricity, a pleasant companion. You may or may not remember the exact moment the horse bug bit.
For some of us it was a genetic wildcard that came as easily as our first smile. There was never a conscious effort. It was just always there.
Popular for quite some time have been the twelve step programs. I would suggest a similar program for horse-a-holics. There is no hope for a cure as with the other programs, mostly because we don’t really want or need one. We can use these steps to help explain our linear passion and to understand just how hopeless we are. The majority of our society has been trained to understand and tolerate an addiction.
The Twelve Step tradition is a time tested method used for various obsessive-compulsive behaviors. These simple tools for living have been used by millions of people to successfully change their lives and recover from certain behaviors. Sharing and support in groups with like-minded individuals and ongoing fellowship is a major ingredient in the success of this program.
The Twelve Steps of Horse Addiction
1. We admit we are powerless under the rule of our horses - that our lives have become periods of servitude interspersed with occasional chances to purchase new play things for the horses that “own” us.
2. We have come to believe that there is no power greater than our horses that will keep us sane and happy.
3. We have made a conscious decision that we have turned our will and our lives over to the care and entertainment of our horses.
4. We have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our barn, and still think we might have room for just one more horse.
5. We have admitted to God, ourselves and our friends that our shoes will always be muddy and there will be horsehair and horse snot on our clothes.
6. We were entirely ready to remove all these defects of character, but decided against it when our horse nickered and nuzzled us.
7. We humbly asked for removal of our shortcomings - so we could have more time to spend with our horses.
8. We made a list of all persons we had slighted when we were late because of chores or a long trail ride, and became willing to make amends to them all – even though they still didn’t want to hear about our horses.
9. We have made direct amends to these people wherever possible, except when they didn’t want to help us unload the feed bags.
10. We have continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it to our horse… who knew it from the start and had been telling us all along.
11. We have sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with our horses as we understood them, praying only for knowledge of their will for us and the power to carry that will out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we will carry this message to those faced with Horse Addiction and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
(This parody is based on the original Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, which can be found at the Alcoholics Anonymous website. In no way should this be looked on as an insult against those with a drinking problem. Warning! Actually following these steps will only make you more popular with the horses around you, and should not be attempted by those who wish to be anything other than horse people for the rest of their lives.)
…
All horse things progressing well. Dulci now comes to the gate when I arrive and says “Catch me, please.” In a few days they will get pasture privileges. It was super cold last night so did not do much with any of them, the wind cut right through everything. I can pick up all four of her feet and hold them and tap on them. She has been extremely good about her feet. I have four others in need of a spring hoof trimming. Oh joy.
I have been using the bicycle to tool around town, doing errands and getting the mail and such when I don’t need the truck or car. I have a shoulder bag that works well for carrying small things.
I have noticed a change in my take offs and landings. I used to be able to slow down, stand on the near side pedal and step off the bike and walk it to a stop. I tried that the first day and not only did my knees scream obscenities at me, the walk to a stop was more of a stumble forward several running steps. I have resorted to doing a full stop and putting my feet down and even that has lost any sign of grace, since I usually forget the proper brake or which foot I want to put down first. I used to be able to step on the off side pedal, push it forward in one fluid movement and be in flight as the bicycle seat gracefully met my bottom side. No more. Now it is one, okay two, hops, the bike wobbles forwards (if I’m lucky) and then the seat smacks rudely into my hind side. I can’t imagine that my bottom has dropped one to two inches in only twenty years. It has to be that new padded seat the bike shop put on.
Success!
I thought it was time to post an updated photo of the new rescues:
Oh, wait, wrong photo. This is the neighbor’s bison. So easy to get confused. It is the same color as Jim’s rescue :^P
Tonight all the patience paid off. I went into the round corral and the chestnut filly let me walk up to her and touch her, but walked away. She let me walk up and touch again and walked away. I went to the corral panel and snapped the rope onto the vertical post and laid the rope out. The filly watched. I walked up to her and caught her. She knew once the rope was up, she was caught. Figuring out she needed to be in the corner was beyond her figuring. Thank goodness they are smart and understand what happens next so quickly. I used that to an advantage. I love it when things work out like I think they should! She even let me lead her by her mane up and to where I wanted to play with her. I put the rope around her neck, went and got oat toasties for the two of them and then took the rope off while she ate and I gave her a good grooming with a curry and picked up all four feet. So here is a photo of her tonight. It will be worthwhile to see how she fills out in the coming months.
She has a name now. Dulcinea. Dulci for short.
“Dulcinea is a fictional character who is referred to (but does not appear) in Miguel de Cervantes’ novel Don Quixote. She is also known as Dulcinea del Toboso, Aldonza Lorenzo, and Aldonza de Toboso.
Seeking after the traditions of the knights-errant of old, Don Quixote finds a true love whom he calls Dulcinea. She is a simple peasant in his home town, but Quixote imagines her to be the most beautiful of all women. At times, Quixote goes into detail about her appearance, though he freely admits that he has never seen her.
Don Quixote describes her appearance in the following terms: “… her name is Dulcinea, her country El Toboso, a village of La Mancha, her rank must be at least that of a princess, since she is my queen and lady, and her beauty superhuman, since all the impossible and fanciful attributes of beauty which the poets apply to their ladies are verified in her; for her hairs are gold, her forehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows rainbows, her eyes suns, her cheeks roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls, her neck alabaster, her bosom marble, her hands ivory, her fairness snow, and what modesty conceals from sight such, I think and imagine, as rational reflection can only extol, not compare.” [Volume 1/Chapter XIII]
In the Spanish of the time, Dulcinea means something akin to an overly elegant “sweetness”. In this way, Dulcinea is an entirely fictional person for whom Quixote relentlessly fights. To this day, a reference to someone as your “Dulcinea” implies hopeless devotion and love for her.
She does appear in stage and film adaptations of the book. In cinema and on stage, she has been played by (among others) Sophia Loren, Joan Diener, Hollis Resnik, and Vanessa Williams. In the Broadway musical Man of La Mancha, she is a self-described whore. Her given name is (Aldonza), and a prominent arc of the musical follows her distrust and then fervent belief in Don Quixote’s quest. She begins as someone who has no self-worth, Aldonza, and through Quixote’s belief in her, she begins to believe in herself as someone of great worth and takes on the name Dulcinea. Also in the musical, a priest sings a song called “To Each His Dulcinea”, in which he reflects that although Dulcinea does not exist, the idea of her is what keeps Don Quixote alive and on his quest.”
I think it fits her. Only the delusional see the potential beauty there.
Meet Dulcinea!
Raleigh DL-1
My sister is as devoted to riding bicycles as I am to riding horses. Maybe more so. We both get to wear spandex when going on long rides and are not embarrassed to be in public in our “garb” so it could be some bizarre quirk in the DNA. I have been talking for the last couple of years about fixing up my bike and starting to ride again but had the excellent excuse that tires and tubes for my vintage bike are almost impossible to find.
For Christmas, my sister appears with two new 28″ tires and tubes. End of excuses.
My memory puts hanging the bike in the attic sometime right after buying the building I work in now. That would put it at almost 20 years since I have ridden that bike. The only thing wrong with it when it went into storage was a loose rear fender. So 20 years in dry storage. I found out from the bike store owner when I picked it up after its tune up, new tire placement and new seat, that the hub shows the manufacturer date as 1964. I bought the bike for $99 in the early 70s, rode it to work every day I could, biked with my daughter on the back until she was too big to ride there and put it away around 1988. I still have the original manual.
My last visit to my daughter’s she showed me a web site she found amusing: “Stuff White People Like” and I was amused as well until she brought up the article http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/2008/02/10/61-bicycles/
and I saw a photo of MY bike. Don’t worry, there is probably a photo or a description of your bike there as well.
My bike looks a lot like this one,
but I am in search of the basket and the rack which seem to be only available from “Retro” bike places if at all.
Things like the head lamp that was powered by a generator that rubbed on the wheel and the saddle bag were long gone. The original leather seat needed replacing with a new modern cushy seat with a built in safety light. A new chain and gear link and it was ready to hit the road again.
I polished it up a bit after getting it home and took it out for a short spin. I had forgotten how much fun and how fast these things can tool around town! I took another loop for good measure.
Let’s see. Fast, efficient, fun. I can load it into the back of my truck or car and it doesn’t need its own trailer if I want to ride it somewhere new. I hung it upstairs for 20 years without any care and $138 brought it back to life. No vet. No feed. No need to keep fence fixed so it doesn’t go to visit the neighbor’s bikes. Hum. My sister might just be on to something here. Wonder if I can get it to nicker when it sees me?
The Two Minute Catch
Yesterday when I went to feed the rescue ponies, it took me a longer time than usual to catch the saddlebred. I had not caught her the day before because of time constraints and now I was having to make up the lost time. I finally resorted to playing the old trick i had learned as a kid with a horse that was so hard to catch it made me inventive and patient at the same time. I tied a long rope to a section of the round corral and eased her up to the triangular corner made by the rope and fence. She will let me rub her butt here, but not get close enough to actually catch her. With two in the round pen, playing the run around a look at me until “join up” or whatever you want to call it happens, is beyond my talents. Once she is eased up with the rope against her neck, I let her walk forward and take the rope through my hands and with her. She is making her own rope loop this way and I just have to close it around. Technique is everything and has to be learned, I guess, since the horse can bog their head down and back up and slip the loop. You just have to handle the horse and the rope in a way that does not happen. Then you can just stop the “getting away.” This does not work with a frightened horse that is running through the ropes in a panic, just the ones not quite ready to give in and be caught.
While I had her last night, she got her oat toasties, got rubbed and brushed and then we spent the next hour or better getting caught. I would walk away and come back, throw the rope over her, take it off, walk away come back - until she was bored. I then did some flooding, which is a nicer way of doing the old “sacking out.” Rubbing all over with exaggerated movements (with just hands) until she could stand still. She is touchy about her head, so I really concentrated on that and flipped the rope up and over her muzzle and head until she was anticipating it and catching it so it would rub her better.
Tonight it paid off. I went into the corral and just started to walk up to her like we had done the night before. At the last moment, she decided to walk off. I walked up again. She walked off again. I tied the rope to the corral panel and walked her into the triangle. She walked right in, pulled the rope forward, turned just right to make a loop on her own and was caught. Less than two minutes. We will keep going back to where she is comfortable until she doesn’t need the entire routine to be caught. Since she did so well, it was time to just sit with her while she ate and not ask anything more. For the first time, the last two days, she has offered to sniff me and be curious. The fear is subsiding. I hope to have new photos tomorrow.
Drafting Film
Thanks to Maggie on the Greywaren Art blog, (her link is on the blogroll) I ordered some Durafilm drafting film in the double sided matte. I was familiar with drafting film for technical pens and that “old’fashioned” way of doing some layouts, but I had never tried the matte or using it with colored pencils. It was great! Very buttery. It did not take many layers, but Maggie warned about this drawback. You can color on both sides though which can make some funky effects. I started small with an ACEO sized piece and had a wonderful time. I will be playing some more with this film and seeing what a bit more planning can do to increase the detail and the effectiveness.
I sloughed around in more mud today- it rained yet again. Yesterday I fixed fence for the coyote pen. The ground is so soft, posts are just falling over on their own. My dogs were incredibly happy and incredibly muddy. It was a two shower day for them. Tonight they stayed home while I played with the new pony and fed the rest their oat toasties.
New ponies are settling in well. I got their vaccines at the vet and received a 20% discount for the shots. A good citizen discount for “rescuing” the little horses. I never knew there was such a thing. It makes you have the same sort of dubious pride as being able to park in a handicapped spot.
I love mud
I just drove home barefoot.
This morning, the famous and fabulous MeToo (son Johnny’s horse) had gotten into the small pasture surrounding the round pen and the new fillies. The idea had been to keep the newbies quarantined for a couple of weeks until we could see what cooties they might have. MeToo had other ideas and being a girl, wanted to hang out with the new girls and gossip.
I went out this afternoon to check on everyone, and thinking I knew where MeToo had slipped under the wire, took some extra wire down to splice into the fence line.
I drove home barefoot because I lost my shoes in the mud at the bottom of the hill trying to fix the fence at the gap. It is the muddiest place I could have tried to walk. Of course it did not look muddy until it was up to my knees. I walked out of one shoe and had to go back and find it. The next thing I knew, both feet were stuck and I was sinking fast. As I tried to lift a leg to get out, I tipped over into the mud. You know I grabbed the hot wire on the way down. (Feeling much better now. Everything is so clear) I dug my shoes out, walked up the hill in my socks and got in the small horse tank to wash off enough to be able to sit in the truck. My jeans and socks are in the washer and my shoes drying outside. I am done fixing fence! Done. Done! blech! That mud and water was incredibly stinky. Of course, before I could leave, MeToo had slipped under the fence again (from the look of her legs, she had crawled on her knees) and was right back where she wanted to be. She is welcome to all the cooties she can stand.
Horseaholic Part 2
The weather, work, and other things kept us from going back until yesterday to try and bring the rescues home. For once, the weather cooperated with a planned event and we trucked south again to see if we could capture our wild horses.
This time we backed the trailer into the pasture and we were ready to stay until finished.
I walked out and caught the remaining Haflinger mare, DeeDee, and tied her up. Jim herded the wild bunch up the hill while I put some grain into the corrals. When they did come up, they all decided five in one corral would be more fun and cozy. Work with what you get, I always say. I had Jim hold the rope that formed the gate and sorted out the three we did not want to catch and let them slip out.
Jim went first and using the stick, started where he had left off with success before. It only took about 20 minutes this time to get the halter on. He lead the bay out and left me to work with catching the chestnut. I had to find a place she was comfortable again and work up from the back to the front. It only took fifteen minutes, but it seemed like forever. I had to really work on keeping my intent from showing - it takes so little for a person to focus on the goal (catching) instead of what the horse needs. They are still flinchy, but not over reactive and scared out of their gourds this time.
After the halters are on, things move along pretty quickly. We repeat the going up to the trailer. You work out here, you rest near here. Some hay and spilled grain on the trailer floor adds to the pleasant time they are having when by the trailer. We wait and let them explore and then walk away.
When they are becoming bored by this, we ask for more, until they try to get into the trailer… and then walk away again. Finally, with some rump tapping, my filly jumps into the trailer. We walk around in there. Have some good scratches and come out again and go for another walk while Jim tries it. When his filly decided to jump in, she did so with drama. She was airborne, looking like a Pegasus, when she realized what goes up must come down and decided at the last moment to put her feet down and land in the trailer. Same deal and out again. My next time at the trailer, a couple taps and she jumps in. This time I take her up front and tie her and close the stall gate. Jim’s filly decides she has had enough for a day and tries to convince him that it would be much more fun to drag him around in the muddy places instead of going anywhere near the trailer. She changes her mind quickly. These gals are so poorly, they don’t have the stamina to put up much of a fight for very long. She decided the trailer is a better deal and jumped in.
We stopped in the little town of Exline for an ice cream to celebrate and then brought them to to the pasture with nothing note worthy to report. We bedded them down in the round corral. Shared a tube of ivermetic paste wormer between them and called it a night. All in a day’s addiction for a horsaholic.
I have found I have another addiction. I decided to clean up my paper files to see what I had in stock for drawing. I found I have been hording bristol paper. Like a lot. I had not been using it lately because I did not think I had any. Of course, I had just ordered some more the day before. So, now I really have a lot. I need to make some art on it now and use it for the book I want to try and finish! More on that later!!
