Why the perfect number of horses for me is TWO. (Until I get a third one...)

 For three and a half years, it's been these two.  They haven't been apart since the day he got here.

It's been Little Lady and Handsome Guy.  PhoenixandCopper.  CopperandPhoenix.


He acts like she's only there to get in his way, and she acts like she is just waiting to move until he tells her it's okay.  She lives and breathes for him and he tolerates her.  If they were people I'd beg her to leave him, but they're horses, and they have a thing, and they seem to get along just fine the way things are.

He's not mean to her, he just tells her where to go and how fast because she lets him.  She cries like a teenage girl if he's out of her sight.  He occasionally gives a low whinny if she's away from his sight for too long, just to make sure she's still there.  It's his job.  They seem kinda happy with the arrangement.

For years, I've had just two horses, and it suited me perfectly.  When I lived in town and only saw the horses on weekends, I could not have kept up with more than two.  Having only one horse means all different challenges.  My Champ was an only horse for a couple years.  In a way it was great, because his attention was focussed on me, but he developed some strange anxiety habits like biting his flanks. When Copper came into his life as a knobbly little yearling, he flourished as her Great Protector, King, and Pseudo-Stud of the Universe.

Horses like being with other horses.  It's just that simple.

 After the King's death, I made sure our Little Lady wouldn't be alone.

She spent three seasons with ol' Suzy, the broodmare.  Things were very slow and mellow around here at that time, because Suzy wasn't into anything fast.  She ate slow, she moved slow, and she had no reason to get all territorial and cranky about anything.  Copper never challenged her.  Occasionally the Young Lady would see if the Ol' Lady was up for a trot... but she wasn't.  She just wanted to eat.




Then this big strapping vigorous young gelding entered the Little Lady's life.

They've become a pretty solid pair over the years.  They give each other enough space but like to be fairly close to each other.  Even though I was not looking specifically for another Appaloosa, I ended up with a nicely matched little team.  At first glance, they look alike.

When I tell people where I live, they say things like, "Oh, the two Appies!" or "You're the one with the twin horses!"

Both of them are easy going and mellow, but curious.  A couple times a day they'll take off across the field for a nice little run.  They are ridiculously friendly.

 Two horses are easy to care for.  If you're going out to the barn to look after one horse, two isn't that much more work.  One person can manage two horses.  For years, I've groomed, tacked up and ridden two.  Sometimes I'd pony one with the other.  It worked extremely well with Champ, who neck-reined beautifully.

Phoenix is still working on it.  He'd rather tickle her nose than walk along beside her like a good boy but it'll improve.  Otherwise, I tie one saddled horse to the barn while I ride the other, then switch.  One gets exercise and training while the other learns to stand there patiently.  It works.

Two horses stabled overnight in the winter adds up to a little less than an hour a day of barn chores.  (Of course I can make it last longer.)  In summer, they spend their days on pasture without eating the grass down to nothing.

Two hoof trims is $50-60.  Hay for two, about $500 a year.  Two tubes of dewormer, less than $30.  It's manageable.

It's sort of perfect.

I have four stalls in the barn though...and I dream of getting a pony... and since I figure I won't use Copper very often for lessons, it sure would be good to have a third horse in case Phoenix needs a day off, or I have two students at once.  Right?

Last spring, I had a line on a 15 year old Quarter Horse mare FOR FREE.  She was well broke, healthy, and good with kids.  When I was a kid, we had two matched sets: two black ponies, two brown and white pintos.  I pictured a red horse in the field with my Appaloosas.  I imagined getting a chestnut pony to teach little kids riding lessons, and of course, to match the new mare.  It would be PERFECT!

There was nothing wrong with the free mare, other than her unfortunate position between warring ex-spouses.  That's why I ended up not getting her.  Nuff said?





After the deal fell through, I went back to deciding that two is the perfect number again.






And when I get a nice little chestnut QH mare, then three will be the perfect number... Hint.  Hint.

Party's at my other place today.

I wrote about rock stars and it was fun!  (This is a link, by the way.  Press it.  It'll take you over there.)

I think it took about two weeks to finish that blog post. I didn't suffer though, because I "had to" comb the interwebs for pictures of one of my favourite bands, and watch a few videos, and sometimes I got a little carried away when I should have been, oh I dunno, washing dishes or editing a story or cleaning the barn.

Anyways.  Soundgarden.  On the other blog. Enjoy.

I think I'm amphibious now

I may have just mastered the weird art of squirting saline solution up one nostril and letting it dribble out the other nostril.

This means two things:

1) I will be a hit at my son's next birthday party.  At which he'll be fifteen.  Come to think of it, I'll be a hit at my husband's next birthday party, when he turns forty-two.  Boys in general never get too old for a good nostril stunt.

2) Now that I can run salt water through my nose I can finally pursue a career path that up until now could only be a distant fantasy.

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN 5: THE CURSE OF THE LANDLOCKED MERMAID.

Yes, I, Booty Landlubber, will at last be able to lure the nefarious and charming Captain Jack Sparrow into my soggy grasp.  We will spend hours picking seaweed out of each other's hair, until some supernatural pirate hussy comes along to break my spell on Jack at which time I'll have to get out my lunge whip skills and have a big ol duel to win back my little pirate darling.  I will win by shooting high pressure ocean water out of my face at the hussy and blow her to China.  Then my Captain and I drink rum and dance on the beach.

When he's really drunk he'll beg me to do that thing again that I do.  Cuz it's his birthday.  And we'll laugh and laugh and laugh.  It'll be awesome.

I think I'm delirious.  I'm going to go take a nap.  

Turns out Jethro didn't accidentally elbow me in the face while we were sleeping. It's a sinus infection.

It really felt like I got hit in the nose.  I didn't have a cold or anything.  When the numbness in my nose crept up into my forehead I knew it was time to go visit the doctor.

I can't take anything for it because of Effexor.  So again I blame the drugs.

Now I'm shooting salt water up my nose three times a day which scares the crap outta me, I mean terrifies me, I'm talking huge panic because...

HUMANS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREATHE WATER!

However I no longer have sharp pain in my forehead so that's good.  The swelling's gone down on the left side of my nose.  My face caverns don't feel quite so inflamed anymore.

Plus Jethro's off the hook for possibly doing something he didn't know he didn't do because he was asleep, so that's good too, right?

Time to put the "summer office" away.

Dad bought a little vintage camper last summer for his twice-yearly flea market trips.  I think it's kind of funny that he wouldn't normally go camping for fun, but if there are car parts involved, he's there.

Meanwhile back at the homestead, Mom and I snicker about him camping out with all the other gear heads and rednecks and hillbillies and car hoarders.  He packs a couple of comforters, one pillow, and an extra hoodie.  Maybe some extra woolly socks.  One year he forgot a can opener for his pork n beans.

If we women spent a weekend in the camper, we'd bring like, 18 pillows, four comforters (each), a cotton blanket or two or five, a little rug for the floor, and that cute little closet would contain flannel jammies, hoodies, an extra jacket, and maybe a couple more pillows just in case.  Because you never know when you will need to prop something up with a pillow.

Also, upon arriving home, the camper would not smell like farts.

We would at least open the windows, y'know!

Here's the thing: she doesn't camp anymore.  I don't think I do either.

But I love the little camper!  It has doubled as a bunkhouse for visiting kids many times.  Sometimes the kids just hang in the camper with their buddies.

I discovered this summer that I could hide in plain sight if I just sneaked in there.

I could bring a bag with my MacWhite and my notebook, a novel, a pen, and I'd be good for an hour or two.  Sometimes, I would pull my glasses off my face and roll over for a little snooze.  Parked under a tree with the windows open to catch the breeze, the camper was a sweet haven.

Well, it's October now.  I have to retrieve those comforters because I'll need them on the beds soon.  I've accepted that writing and reading in a trailer isn't so sweet anymore on a cool day.  It's hard to remember how incredibly painfully hot it was this summer, now that the morning leaves frost on the windshields.  Dad moved the camper down into the yard, but he was too early.  I insist on dragging it back up so I can get in there with the Shopvac.  He doesn't get it.  He figures it's fine to put it up for winter the way it is.  I strongly disagree because it has to be clean and neat first!  You know how I hate rodents, right?  I will give them no excuse to wiggle their horrible little way in there looking for cracker crumbs.

And even if it's rodent free... I'd like to crack it open in the spring and not be knocked over by the musty dusty and possibly farty smell of a 40-something year old camper.

I'm just thinking ahead.

Huge Massive Happy Announcement! THE TRUCK IS BACK!!!!

SHE'S BAAAACK!  SHE'S BAAAAAAAAACK!


I HAVE MY TRUCK AGAIN!


All fixed up and legal and back on the road, ready for another 5 years or 20 or however many I coax out of her!

Will we let something like a minor car accident stop us?  No we will not.  It can slow us down, but it can't stop us.  

We just go buy a slightly used door, and let the local body shop take care of the rest.  And we're back in business.

I know, it's not perfect.  That's next year's job.  For now, I'm just happy to have my wheels back, happy to have Grandma have her car all to herself again, and happy for the ability to continue hauling things that are only convenient with a pickup truck.

Best of all, this little piece of bodywork cost less than a quarter of the downpayment on a new(ish) truck.

I love this truck.  It's as bitchy to park as ever and still has a nasty shake at about 90 kph (that really needs to get looked at eh?) but I can fit my whole family in the cab, including the Pug, which is why bench seats are the best, and I can still fit a load of hay in the box, and I am one happy little Mother Trucker!





(Also since I'm happy and it's Friday, here's Johnny.)

You could die of cuteness overload. It's worth the risk.

Are you ready for this?

We dropped in on a buddy's boarding barn recently.  There's a small pen across from the barn holding a mare and her filly.  Honestly, we could not get past the barn.  

 She wouldn't let us.

We had to stop and let her walk up to the fence, all full of curiosity, for a visit.

If you have never had the opportunity to pet a baby horse, I strongly recommend you find a way to get this experience.  It's amazing how soft these little critters are.  If you're lucky enough to find a foal who's not shy and lets you near,  you'll fall in love.  See that curly little forelock?  Oh my gosh, and those fuzzy ears.  I'm about to melt over here, people.  Those incredibly soft little fuzzy ears.  

 She's a very friendly little critter.  I'm sure being next to a large barn and being in contact with about 50 other horses and all their associated people has socialized her well in her short life.  

Either that or she saw us comin' from a mile away...

Introductions

Last weekend, we had some visitors from the old neighourhood.  Phyllis, who is part of my writers group, took the scenic route home from her stay up north and found her way here to the homestead.  She brought her travelling companion, an adorable little white canine ball of soft fluff named Sofie.

Of course, being here meant touring the place and meeting those two horses I write about all the time.  

Sofie is a brave and easy going little dog, which is especially endearing knowing that she started off her life in a puppy mill.  Phyllis spent a lot of time gaining Sofie's trust, and teaching her about this big world.  My horses, meanwhile, are a couple of giant babies who have never known anything but love and affection.  They were quite willing to lavish all their attention on this dog. 

Sofie just kind of took it. As long as she had that arm around her, those giant critters didn't freak her out!

Nothing to see here, people.  Move along now.  

Poor dog must have thought she was going to get eaten.  But no, they just wanted to smell her.  How could they know that she darn near fit into one of their nostrils?

The real fun was watching the Pug lose his mind over the pretty white girl-dog.  We wondered if he remembered her from our pool party the summer before.  Either way, he was very happy to see her!

Oh and also?  Phyllis had treats in her pocket.

She is welcome to visit ANYTIME!

Johnny Depp... what a sweet guy!!

A blog reader from the U.K.  (Hi Thea!!)  sent me a link to a great story.

Oh my gosh, can you imagine how he made that little girl's day?  Look at this little cutie with her overalls and ponytail, trying to contain the grin!

Man, school is a heck of a lot more fun in England.  Captain Jack Sparrow showed up with ten minutes notice there in London England! Wow. We never had any pirates in my school.  I dressed up like a gypsy two years in a row for Halloween but I don't think that counts even remotely.


I think Johnny is pure awesome.  Wait - PURE AWESOME. YES.

(It's Canadian Thanksgiving and all I'm going to say is... I'm thankful.  Thank you!)

Hey! I'm not mad at music anymore! (Thank you SOUNDGARDEN!)

After a particularly bad year, bad for a lot of reasons, in which I stopped listening to the radio and barely looked at any of my CDs, I have been rediscovering my love for RAWK.

I feel like I'm finding a piece of my identity that was stuck in a corner and covered in dust.

Bonus: my brain is blooming with fiction again!

This week I plan to do most of my blogging over next door at my other blog.    I'm going to write about some records I bought over the summer (Yes we still call them RECORDS in our family) and why this stuff makes me feel happeeeee.  I'm going to tell you about my good friends Ozzy and Slash and some talented Finnish men.

But first, because I'm feeling generous, I'd like to tell you about a band I've loved for damn near twenty years.

I'd heard rumblings and whispers of Soundgarden getting back together but I generally don't get too excited until it actually happens.  This sounded pretty legit: there were concert dates for Soundgarden at Lollapalooza.  Basically I just figured there goes another once in a lifetime concert event we didn't get to and decided to get on with my life.  Then one morning I was on my way out of Stratford after taking the kids to school early for band practice and I heard the unmistakeable wailing and thrashing of Thayil, Cornell, Cameron & Shepherd, or as we referred to them around here, The Black Sabbath Of The Nineties.



Only thing is, I didn't recognize the song.  I cranked it up as loud as my mom's car could handle it, but I didn't know it.  I wondered if it was from some early album I wasn't as familiar with.  But it didn't sound like it was recorded pre-90s.

Then the DJ said the two magic words, "New Soundgarden" and I could barely stay in the car.

The next time we were in town, I sent my boy into the record store with a fist full of cash and orders to GET IT. (Yeah, parental advisory and all... I used to make mix CDs from my favourites with only the non-sweary songs, but these kids are teenagers now so I'm over it.)


Here, have a picture of Chris Cornell from the early 90s when he didn't wear a shirt very often.

They must have done some epic concerts this past summer, but I'll have to settle for the pictures from their site.  

So I've been driving around in my mom's car, possibly wrecking the speakers, and forgetting to turn it back to radio before I shut the car off... she was a little offended by the lyrics in the chorus of "Big Dumb Sex" but we laughed about it later.  

I'm so glad I'm not mad at music anymore.  I don't know what caused our falling out, or when it started.  I'm just happy we're speaking again.  

Catch ya at the other blog when I'm done composing my history of Soundgarden...

Can't believe the Internet goes down and I lose my mind.

Seriously, ten years ago I barely knew how to turn on a computer and now I've spent two days wailing and moaning and because I can't get internet.  I can't believe how weird this is.

Also the whole process to post pictures looks different on my screen and stuff like that weirds me out too.

Tomorrow I'm going to write about rock stars.