Baggage Check

Every once in a while I do a baggage check with the horses to test out their spookiness level and get an idea of how much desensitization I need to do with them. First I lay a couple of empty shavings bags out in the paddock for them to inspect.

Hey, Bombay. Should I be running from these weird-sounding jellyfish things?

Nah. All you have to do is keep an ear cocked toward each one so you hear it coming before it jumps on you. Then you can run.

In fact, you can pick them up with your teeth...

...and shake them around, and you can make the weird sounding noise on your own. See?

I don't know about that. You're scaring me.

Uh, I think I'm scaring myself too. And the fact that you are running from it makes me even more convinced that it is something to be scared of.

Hey, Lostine. Should I be scared of that weird-sounding jellyfish thing?

Each time I walked near Bombay or Lostine with a bag in my hands, they ran to Lostine for safety. So, I laid one bag on the ground between Lostine and the fence, then stood behind Gabbrielle shaking the other bag. She had no choice but to either stand still or step over the bag on the ground. She chose to step over the bag...



Despite stepping on it and making the rattling noise, she wasn't scared of the bag on the ground. She was only scared of the one in my hands.

Lostine was a bit peeved with the other two horses pushing past her, so I tried separating Gabbrielle from Lostine. Gabbrielle would run away from my bag, and then turn with a startled expression like this:

What I really wanted to see was a relaxed pose with a cocked hoof like this...

and this...

Lostine was less than glad to demonstrate to the other horses how unscary a plastic bag can be. She wore it like a saddle...

Despite Lostine's bravery, Gabbrielle still said NO WAY...

Keep that jellyfish away from me!

Needless to say, Gabbrielle failed her baggage check. Horses have to learn to shed their emotional baggage over the sight of a plastic bag, otherwise they won't be safe to ride when they stumble upon some garbage out on the trail.

Sunday Stills: The Letter "T"

The Trail mix I snacked on until the Turkey was ready...

The Two rolls of Toilet paper that help cut down on the number of Times we have to change the roll. Don't ask about the Terrible wallpaper. I Tried stripping it years ago, but got a job and have been working full Time ever since. I might have to hire someone to get rid of it.

Tinsel...

Trimmings on the Tree...

Tennis shoes unTied...

Tire...

Tower of Tires...

Tumbleweed by a Toyota...

...which, of course, has even more Tires.

Takin' It Easy

Though there is always much to do at home on the holidays and weekends, I'm taking it easy for these four days I have off from work. It's been a long time since I've started a day without any agenda. It's relaxing, but I don't know how long I would last living mindlessly and lazily without goals. In my middle age, I've formed into a Type A personality. That's a far cry from making chocolate ice cream by pushing mud through the spokes of my upside-down bicycle in an effort to pass the time.

It snowed last night and this morning. I fed the horses their breakfast in their stalls. When the clouds started clearing out around noon, I began scrubbing out water troughs and preparing separate pens so that the horses could be outside with their blankets on. I noticed that my nosy neighbors hadn't stirred all morning, as their vehicles were covered in snow and I saw no footprints in their yard. I wondered how long it would be before they came outside to hover around me.

Yesterday both of them were buzzing around like pesky flies while my daughter and I were cleaning stalls and catching up on each others activities. Rarely can I have company in the barn without having unwanted company loitering around the outside of the barn. The old man was working on another noisy construction project on his driveway while the nosy woman found excuses to wander, spy and eavesdrop.

Today was the first time since last winter that I put the horses into separate pens. I haltered Gabbrielle first. She balked at the water dripping from the awning, then pulled back and reared up. I thought that was a bit of an overreaction (considering how many times she has stood out in the rain) until I realized that Lostine was stretching her neck out her stall window biting Gabbrielle on the butt.

I quickly led Gabbrielle past the other horses after chastising Lostine for her bad behavior, but I still hadn't made up my mind as to which pen I was going to put Gabbrielle in. Interestingly enough, Gabbrielle made up my mind for me by practically dragging me out the gate all the way down the RV lane to the pen in the back. Then I remembered that was where I put her all last winter, because she was the only horse who wasn't bothered by the dogs being just on the other side of the fence. I found it interesting that my horse's memory is better than mine. She knew just where to go.

I then led Lostine out of her stall and tried to put her in the round pen. She fought me a bit, insisting that she wanted to stay in the paddock. I let Bombay have the paddock, only to be reminded a short time later as to why I let Lostine have the paddock all last winter. Bombay is really bad about chewing the wood fence in an effort to free Gabbrielle from the back pen. So, on the next snowy day I will have to remember to put Bombay in the metal round pen. Lostine knew what she was talking about when she insisted on being in the paddock.

Today the nosy woman came out with her dog on a leash as soon as I entered Gabbrielle's stall to clean it. I could see that she was headed toward the back of my barn. Each time I looked at her, she yanked her dog to a stop, turned her back toward me, and pretended to be willing her dog to poop on her own property. As soon as I looked away, she ran to the back of my barn.

I started thinking about teasing her since her dog can't seem to ever do its business on her own property. It always has to be behind my barn or in my driveway before it can loosen its bowels. I looked through the slats of wood to try to locate her to speak to her, but could see that she was trying to hide from me. So, I finished up and pulled my wheelbarrow around to the back of the barn to speak to her. She heard me coming, yanked her dog away from its sniffing trance, and ran back to her own property.

I turned around and wheeled the cart quickly in the other direction to head her off at the pass. She obviously could hear me coming, because I was making plenty of noise, but she pretended like she didn't hear me, and made a beeline for her front door. She never does that. She always has to fart around and hang nearby for as long as possible. Now I know how to regain my privacy. All I have to do is try to talk to her, and she runs into her house.

She obviously knows she's guilty of something, whether it be letting her dog foul my nest or spying and eavesdropping. There was one day recently when I was lunging Gabbrielle with a saddle on. Gabbrielle was feeling her oats and began bucking her way around the pen. I looked up to see my neighbor with her dog, and she was walking backwards gawking at us. I figured her presence was most likely what set Gabbrielle off. As soon as I turned my back to her while turning at Gabbrielle's pace, the woman ran behind my barn with her dog. I guessed that besides her fascination with my horse being out of control, she was probably walking backwards to keep tabs on me, so that she could sneak behind my barn when I wasn't looking, since my property seems to be the only place where her dog can (ahem) relax. I guess I can at least give thanks that she does clean up after her dog, even if she is always encroaching on my space in the process. It could always be worse.

The Dead Fruits of Fall Labors

One definite sign that it is fall are the leaf trails I find throughout the house that require excess vacuuming...

I opened the backdoor and discovered the cause of these leaf trails...

Monty lies in the leaves on the back patio, they stick to his fluff, and he sheds them as he walks through the house. So, this morning I woke up early and swept the patio. I also coiled up all the hoses to prepare for the next snowstorm, which is expected to roll in tonight and tomorrow.

I also grabbed a big black plastic garbage bag and walked every square inch of my 1.3 acres picking up other people's trash. Every time that a big wind comes along, it blows over someone's trashcan and blows the garbage into my yard where it sticks thanks to all of my neighbor's tumbleweeds...

I have these neighbors who are adamant about digging every hint of sagebrush out of their yard, but instead of taking all those weeds to the dump or burning them, they just leave them in a pile and wait for a big wind to come up and blow them into my yard up against my chain-link fence. Then the tumbleweeds' sharp branches catch all other pieces of garbage that blow through the neighborhood, and my place starts looking like a dump in no time.

I resent having to spend my weekends and holidays picking up other people's garbage and then having to pay out of my own pocket to have it properly disposed of, so I look for names and addresses on the garbage and if I find out who it belongs to, I deliver the garbage bag to their doorstep. However, this time the name and address on the garbage was from a house that was miles away. Since I didn't know the neighborhood, I didn't want to risk getting attacked by a Doberman or Pit Bull on my way to the doorstep. Considering the types of drugs this guy was on (I got all of his prescription papers), I'm sure he's too sick or out of it to keep track of his garbage anyway.

What astounds me is that the majority of garbage I find includes candy wrappers, liquor bottles, beer cans, and cigarette cartons. It makes sense that someone who doesn't care what they put into their own body also wouldn't care what they put into the environment. By the time I got done collecting the garbage, the entire 30 gallon bag was stuffed to the gills. I'm just glad that this time around I didn't have to pick up a used rubber. Yuck.

I noticed a number of neighbors watching me while I was picking up garbage. I wanted to ask them if they were going to help or just stare, but they were too far away to hear me anyway. I then started picking up tools that were left outdoors and discovered that the only tools I could find were the old, weathered ones that no one would want. Our nice tools were missing. I don't want to jump to the conclusion that we've been robbed again, but with the number of people who trespass on my property I wouldn't be surprised. I'm just going to have to train my family members that if they want to keep what we own, they need to take care of it and put it away, especially with the number of losers we've got living in the neighborhood now.

What really freaked me out is that after I cleaned up all that garbage, put away the tools, and went into the house, I heard a noise on my front doorstep. When I opened the door and walked outside, I stepped on a piece of garbage that magically appeared right smack in the middle of my doormat. Now, I had just walked in that door a short time earlier and there was no garbage there. That means that one of these nosy neighbors who was watching me pick up garbage must have seen that I missed a spot, and instead of just picking it up themselves and disposing of it in a trash can, they put it on my doorstep. Hmmmmm. I wonder if it could be from a neighbor who previously found a bag of his or her own garbage on his own doorstep. I think it is time that I set Norman the Gnome out on my walkway to hurl insults at people who trespass. The problem is that chances are that someone would just steal him.

A Day to Relax

We are postponing our Thanksgiving Day until Saturday this year. Our daughter doesn't usually come home from college for Thanksgiving, but we decided to fly her in this year. However, she had to work Thanksgiving Day, and we have to pick her up from the airport on Friday, so we will be celebrating on Saturday.

In the meantime, my son celebrated Thanksgiving with his girlfriend's family. I am thankful that her family has been so kind to him. A lot of fathers of teenage girls tend to view the boyfriend as the enemy. However, I think they realize by now that my son has a good heart.

While our son was away, my husband and I went out to eat at a casino restaurant. A lot of families were there avoiding the chore of cooking and clean up. There were a few solo individuals treating themselves to a turkey dinner, still others chose to spend their Thanksgiving in the bar or gambling. When Lisa of Laughing Orca Ranch visited earlier this month, she commented on all the neon lights of Nevada. I've lived here so long that I don't even see it anymore. I don't think I have ever even pulled the arm of a one-armed bandit. I remember I once pushed some buttons on a poker game embedded into a bar because the CEO of my company bought a round of beers and games and had each of us try our luck. Beyond that, I've never gambled while in Nevada. I actually gambled more when I lived in California and my father took me to the horse races.

Anyway, my husband and I were so stuffed from our restaurant meal that we had to leave a lot of good food behind on the table... stuff that wouldn't keep in a doggie bag.

I had tried to ride a horse earlier in the day, but my construction worker neighbor had dragged all of his power tools out onto his driveway and was making a racket. He doesn't even take a day off on holidays, apparently. However, once we returned home from the restaurant, my neighbors were gone... all of them. Everyone left for someplace else for their meal.

I was so happy to not have dozens of relatives of neighbors parking on my property that I saddled up Bombay, breaking my own rule of not riding on holidays since people break their habits on holidays and there are just too many surprises for horses. As soon as I tightened the cinch, someone in the neighborhood started up some kind of shooting competition. Guns were firing off every few seconds. I wondered if someone was trying to shoot their own turkey or something. Fortunately, the horses ignored the gunshots and I was still able to ride.

Bombay seemed a bit under the weather. He had a runny nose and teared up eyes, so I didn't push him too hard. When I mounted I had a realization that took me by surprise. I realized that sitting in a saddle on a horse's back now feels comfortable to me. I've never felt uncomfortable in the saddle, but riding a horse just has never felt natural to me. Now it feels natural. I feel the same on a horse's back as I do when I'm sitting in my recliner: Relaxed. That's quite an accomplishment. For so many years I was such a nervous wreck around horses. I loved them, but knew what kind of damage they could do in the blink of an eye. Now I just don't worry about that anymore. If something bad happens, then it happens. Until then, I'll enjoy my nice, relaxing rides... gunshots and all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just a reminder... Please resist the urge to overfeed your horses on Thanksgiving Day in an effort to include them in your holiday feast. It seems that between the cooler temperatures and the tendency for us humans to offer an extra serving of grain or hay, horses tend to colic quite a bit around the end of November. Keep their food rationings consistent for the sake of their tummies, and perhaps celebrate by giving them just a carrot or two.

Happy Thanksgiving! May all your human tummies be satisfied and all your horse tummies be gas-free.

Clusters in My Yard

A cluster of quail...

(The reason why the bunnies don't come around much anymore, I suspect.) A cluster of mushroom...

A cluster of plums...

A cluster of apples...

These pictures were taken in early September. I've just had this post sitting in my drafts folder all that time.

Macro Monday

Here's my first attempt at a Macro Monday challenge. I meant to post it months ago. Obviously, everything has frozen and died off by now, but it serves as a nice reminder of something to look forward to...

Sunday Stills: Horses

Lost Dog

I don't know what I have to do to be able to relax. Every time I try to just chill for a while, some emergency gets in my face, forcing my heart to skip a beat and release the floodgates of adrenaline. Before I know it, I'm jumping into action to resolve another problem, whether it be for my company or my family.

Tonight I was lying in bed trying to work out a plan to reduce my stress since telling the people who cause me stress about how I feel hasn't had any effect. I heard my husband yell from another room, "Is Midgey in there? The dog is missing! I can't find her anywhere!"

I said, "She's probably in the closet."

He said, "No, I just let her outside a few minutes ago and she didn't come back in. I've been calling her and she won't come."

My heart jumped out of my chest. Our Corgi always comes when my husband calls. She ignores me, but always respects my husband's commands. I knew something had to be wrong.

My husband ran around the house looking in closets and under beds, in case she happened to slip past him when he opened the door and he didn't see her. When she's scared of something like thunder, she tries to hide in dark corners. After not finding her indoors, he ran outside with a flashlight calling for Midge. Nothing.

I wondered if someone could have stolen her out of our back yard, but then saw that the 70 MPH winds from today had piled tumbleweeds up against the only gate that a person could have walked through. It was unlikely that someone stole her.

My husband shined the flashlight along the bottom of the fence. Perhaps a cat after our despised resident moles had dug a big enough hole under the chain-link that Midge could have escaped. We didn't see escape routes, though.

I looked around for something she could have been trapped in outside, but it was so dark. I asked my husband to shine the flashlight over into a dark corner of the yard, but he ignored me and continued running around frantically calling for the dog.

A few months ago a large owl had swooped down upon Midge and tried to carry her off. I wondered if it finally succeeded. Yet I can barely lift her myself, so I couldn't imagine a bird being able to lift her.

There's always the worry that a coyote would jump over the fence, snatch her up in its mouth, and take off. That has happened to many cats in the neighborhood. I started thinking that was the only plausible explanation. Yet our older and bigger dog Monty was outside with Midge. He's deaf and senile, but one would think he'd notice a coyote kidnapping his buddy. I mean, Monty barks at everything that moves including his own shadow. We can't get the dog to shut up. It made no sense that Midge could be snatched for dinner that fast without Monty reacting.

Then my husband emerged from the horse paddock with Midge beside him. We couldn't figure out how she could have made it into the horse paddock when the spa room doors were closed. Then my husband finally shined the light into that dark corner of the yard. The big winds had blown an old wooden gate open that we had sealed shut with 2 x 4s and nails years ago. Our old Labrador used to throw himself against that wooden gate until he busted it open in order to get to females in heat around the neighborhood. (Yes, we did neuter him, but he still wanted to mate with everything in sight up until he was about six years old.) We decided to leave the gate sealed shut so that no one could accidentally leave it open and let the dogs into the horse paddock, where they could get trampled under hooves. However, these winds were violent enough to rip that gate right out of the nails' grip. Go figure.

The winds also blew down our neighbor's fence. I'm sure they are not happy about that. They had just repaired that fence after a drunk driver mowed it down last spring. In fact, they accused us of breaking their fence the first time since it was busted at the end of our driveway. We explained that we have been driving in and out of our driveway for 15 years and are all very practiced and very aware of where their fence is located. It is more likely that some stranger tried to turn around in our driveway and backed into their fence. I was half expecting them to knock on our door tonight to question us about their latest damage. Don't you love it when people assume you are guilty until proven innocent?

Anyway, we've got our dog back and have yet another broken thing to repair on what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. My coat zipper also broke tonight -- on the coldest night of the year, of course -- so I get to spend part of my weekend shopping for a new coat. That may sound appealing to some, but I hate shopping. I'd rather ride a horse or curl up in bed with a good book.

Normally, with Eastern Sierra storms, the winds die down before it snows, however with this storm the snow came before the winds eased up, so I had to race outside to get the haystack covered. I had just ordered a new tarp, because our old tarp got shredded in the last snowstorm. However, the winds blew the new tarp off the stack. I was out there in 70 MPH winds trying to wrestle that 16 x 20' behemoth down. At once point a string attached to the tarp got caught on my foot. A big gust came up and lifted me right up off the ground, twisting my ankle and knocking me down.

I was no match for a tarp in that wind, so I just started heaving huge rocks onto the tarp as fast as I could to keep it in one place. Then I worked one corner at a time over the haystack and secured it with more rocks. Unfortunately some snow got on the hay before I could get it covered. Some of the hay has already molded from when snow seeped through holes in the old tarp during the last early and unexpected snowstorm. Hay is just too expensive and too hard to find to tolerate problems with mold. I'm sure I looked like a lunatic out there with the fury of my efforts to get that haystack covered, but I was literally trying to save myself hundreds of dollars and assure that my horses would have something to eat through winter.

The high winds claimed several lives today. Many vehicles were blown off the roads while others were involved in multi-car pile-ups due to zero visibility from sand blowing across highways. What I want to know is who ticked off Mother Nature?

The Oven and the Wind

Since I had a sick day yesterday, I actually had time to bake something in my new oven! I think it is rather pitiful that my job has kept me so busy that I haven't baked anything in an oven in over two months. I've used the stove top, just not the oven. Anyway, I'm pleased to say that it does bake cookies within the recommended time range. My old oven required double-time to get anything cooked correctly. That's part of why I rarely use ovens. They take up too much of my time. However, this oven is twice as fast as the old one, so I might start baking more often.

I think I baked these cookies just to spite my new quack, I mean doctor, who pestered me about my slightly high cholesterol when I came in to see him about much more pressing issues. Since he ignored my complaints, I'm ignoring his complaints and enjoying some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

In other news, we have BIG WINDS today. This morning I was afraid to go into the horses' stalls to remove their blankets and let them out, because they were screaming and kicking due to the wind shaking the roof and walls of their stalls. I pushed their flakes of hay through their windows and left them in there until the wind settled along with their stomachs.

I then went out a few hours later to remove their blankets and let them outside. All was well until I reached Gabbrielle's stall. She was still quite antsy over the roof rattling, and she kept jumping around. Somehow the blanket got caught on her somewhere, but I couldn't figure out where. All of her leg straps and belly straps had been detached. I kept backing her up thinking maybe she was stepping on a strap, but the blanket was still caught.

Gabbrielle was shaking all over with fear because the wind was blowing objects all around and making crashing noises. She looked like she was about to explode. I didn't want to be in the line of fire when that happened, so I just yanked the blanket as hard as I could, she exploded, and I hid in the corner of her stall while she bucked and spun in circles. Once she settled down, I hung up her now-free blanket and let her out. I could use a little less excitement, and a little more cooperation from inanimate objects.

It's Time to Play "The Jacket Game"

The only horse who doesn't love The Jacket Game is Lostine, yet Lostine is the only horse who ever wins it. The objective of the game is simple: Whichever horse volunteers to be my coat rack and keeps my jacket on its back the longest wins the game.

Gabbrielle's sense of smell amazes me...

Her nose always goes straight for the pocket that last held some horse treats...

Clinton Anderson would be proud of her flexibility.

Bombay is very sneaky about the way he plays The Jacket Game. I have to keep my eye on him.

Gabbrielle always has to get one last sniff in of that pocket that once held treats. Bombay thinks she's grooming him, so he grooms her back.

Bombay tolerates the jacket on his back for about a minute, and then reaches around...

...pulls it off and starts swinging it around in his mouth. Geldings must always dominate their nemesis.


He even offers Gabbrielle a bite...

Together they try to shred it...

Then comes Lostine to the rescue...

...and she always wins, regardless of how hot she gets and how humiliated she feels.