Well

Today has started out better than yesterday ended. At least my eyes are not completely swollen shut, and Baxter seems much better this morning. He was at least willing to eat his breakfast with no head flinging or squinching of the lips. He would not eat at all yesterday, but even Susie was playing rodeo bronc, so at least he wasn't sick. Thank goodness for small miracles. We shall see how the rest of the day goes. At least I am playing driver today, so I do not actually have to work. I think I will have a nap in my truck. That always makes me feel better.

Oh, one more thing

Baxter hurt his neck again today running amok from the bot flies.

Good lord

I am depressed. I know, everyone is depressed sometime, but I am really depressed. It seems like sometimes, life just likes to kick you in the ass when you're down. This past year has been horrible. One thing after another, and another, another, etc, ad naseum. It is wearing me down. I feel like a whiny three year old that needs a nap. Of course, when I do break down and do something like call a friend to cry, I feel like a self absorbed turd. I am tired, and tired of it all.

My youngest sister came down from Chicago to help me with my mom's stuff. She is much more savvy about real estate and dealing with all the people and being nice when she is supposed to than I am. I work in construction for a reason. It is allowable to tell someone to go screw themselves if needed...trying to sell a house...not so much. So I have relinquished that responsibility to her capable hands. I know that she will do an excellent job, and I am grateful that she is willing to come all the way down here to help me with it.

Now, the selling of the house is not really that much cause for heartburn for me. It is just a house. Yes, it was my Mother's house, but it is not her. Without her it is a building, bricks and wood, and paint. Cold and silent. What is dragging me down is in order to actually sell the house, we must first empty it. Now, we are down to the nut cuttin' and this is where I am having a major problem. Kim has hired a woman to do an estate sale. This means that there are no less than three, and as many as six strangers in my mother's house. They are going through her things! They are sorting through her treasures, keeping this and tossing that out. I know that this has to be done, but it is killing me. I know this is what they do for a living, and that they are decent folks, but they are only concerned with the bottom line. They do not know how that little dish with the pixie on the lid got chipped, or that the crude ash tray they threw out was made in art class by her son, and carefully protected for over forty years. They don't care that all those hand thrown pottery vases were made by my mother, and how proud she was when she showed them to us thirty some years ago. They never listened to her tell the plants in her greenhouse that they'd better bloom or she'd throw them out in the garbage. They do not care, they can't afford to. They only value things for the profit they will bring, not the stories they tell. Of course, this is the way things have to be, and I understand, but I do not have to like it. They did not know her, and things are only things. God damn it. They are her things. That a kind, generous, wonderful person's entire life can be reduced to a glorified garage sale......

I am so *hurt*. I can tell you that nothing will make a competent adult feel more helpless than losing their mother. When my father died, I was sure that there couldn't be anything worse. I was wrong. This is worse. This is the woman who when I was born with a severe club foot told the doctor, "thank god she came to us so we can take care of her". The beautiful woman who held my hand through all my surgeries and made me believe that everything was going to be fine. She dried tears and healed hurts. Who will help heal this hurt?

There is no place to run and hide. You can't bury hurt like this. You can shove it aside, but it's always sitting there, like the homeless guy you walk by. You can avert your eyes, but you still know he's there. I know that this will get better. Everyone says it will, so it must, right? I guess that having people go through a person's whole life willy-nilly sticking prices on the things that she treasured is not as bad as some other things. Right now though, it feels like someone is twisting a knife in my heart. It means that no matter how much I wish it weren't true, she is gone. Forever. It is almost more than I can bear. Where do you go from there? I don't know.

StampMonkey lament

Ah the trials and tribulations of being a StampMonkey. I love my work....really I do. There are times, at the end of the day, that I feel I have solved all the world's problems. Well, maybe just the problems that our customer was having, but close enough. Then there are other days when it seems like the Karma gods are just hovering, waiting for me to swear once too often, and *plop*, there it is... a big steaming load of....well...karma.

We are working on one of those "steaming load of Karma"jobs right now. It is a medium sized patio, shaped sort of like a grand piano, swoopy and curvy. There was a step outside their back door. We tore out the old patio, and step, and graded their yard so that the water would run off the patio and away from the house. Sounds good so far, yes? Well, just wait for it. It gets much better ;)

While the boys set up the rest of the patio. I actually took time out from my StampMonkey nap time and made myself useful. I got to put the step back in. It was the very first step I ever did all by my self. I was very careful, and it was beautiful. I think DH may have promoted me to a pimple on a finisher's ass after he inspected my work. He actually said it looked good. High praise from Mr. Grumpy Butt. Well, Mr Annoying Man (AKA: The Client- AKA: AM) came home from work, and what do you suppose he did?? Anyone?? His annoying ass opened that back door and he stepped in the big middle of my beautiful step and crushed about 8 inches of it right off. WTF was he thinking?? He said he didn't even step on it, he just sorta touched it with his foot... uh yeah sure... then why is it all crushed and ruined?? He said he couldn't believe that after all that time, it was still so soft. I secretly, in the darkest part of my mind, hoped that he fell down and hurt himself a little when he crushed my step. I didn't even get a picture of it before he totally destroyed it. To say that I was unhappy would qualify for the understatement of the decade. I couldn't even look at the man. As a matter of fact, when he came into the back yard the next morning, I had to leave. I had a strong urge to scratch his face off.

The owners, bless their icky little hearts, are not the most decisive folks. In fact, they are downright wishy-washy and irritating. They called three times last week to find out when their patio would be done. We told them that we needed 3 days without rain. One to tear out the existing patio, another to set up the forms, and a third to pour it. We told them the same thing every time they called. We also told them that if there is a forty percent or higher chance of rain that we do not pour. Do overs are bad...very bad. They simply couldn't understand why we couldn't tear it out in the rain. Well, if we tear it out, and it rains and fills it up with water, then we have to wait even longer for it to dry out. This they do not understand... what's wrong with a little mud? We did not try to explain the mysteries of concrete to them.... They would not get it, and it isn't worth the aggravation.

Next annoying thing, they decided they wanted a sidewalk then they didn't. Ok, no worries. We did not set up the sidewalk. As we were waiting on the mud to arrive, Annoying Man asked DH why the sidewalk was not set up. HUH?? DH said, uh, you said you didn't want it. AM said, Oh. Then he comes back five minutes later and says that they do want it. DH says OK, we will have to do it another day, because concrete will be here in 15 minutes. AM says OK. AM disappears again...reappears 10 minutes later and says they decided they didn't want it. Criminy people! Oh and this is rich. We told him we were worried about the chance of severe weather. AM has the balls to say: We are in no hurry. We can wait with "this mess" a while longer. Oh my dear lord. Someone hold me down or I will rip his ears off. This is the same AM that called THREE times the week previous to find out when his patio would be finished. The same AM who crushed my beautiful step.

My pimp hand is strong! It needs to be laid up side his head.

Anyway, the concrete arrived, and we poured the patio. The mud was a bit weird and bled a ton of water through the top, which made it too wet for us to stamp till about 3. The whole day were under a tornado watch, but the weather guessers had promised nothing falling until after five that evening. They were predicting dire amounts of large hail. Now, keep in mind that this concrete was still soft enough at 4:30 that if you stepped on it, you would sink up to your nalgas. This is not normal, and if we had known the concrete would be wonky, we wouldn't have poured that day with that chance of bad weather. There was no way to cover it up because it was so soft we could not walk out on it, and even if we could, it would have been soft enough that the plastic would have ruined the surface and provided zero protection against the promised golf ball sized hail. So, we were sweating the prospect of the hail beating the shit out of it before it got hard. Fortunately, the Karma gods decided that we had been punished enough for one day, and withheld the promised concrete death from above! YAY!!

Our only other worry was whether or not AM and his DW would stay off the patio. We warned them that if they walked on it within the next 24 hours that they would ruin it, and we would not fix it for them. They seem to have some instinctive urge to number one, not listen to a word we tell them, and number two, inspect minutely their back yard every single day. This would be fine if their unavoidable urge did not include the absolute need to use their back door. Fortunately for them, they did not walk on the patio. We did not commit any heinous acts on either of them.

How much would any of you like to bet that when we go back to clean and seal their job there is no sign of either of them the entire day? Of course they will be elsewhere, since we will be expecting a check, and they will not want to write one. We have a cure for that too. It's called a breaker...it works incredibly well, and the mere threat is enough to send a reluctant-to-pay customer running for their checkbook.

I am tired

Of mother's day. There is nothing like having it shoved in your face for a month, that your mother is dead. You can't go in a store, or even listen to the radio without having it crammed down your throat.

I am sick of the struggle not to break into tears in the middle of the grocery store, or just driving down the road to feed the horses.

I am sick and tired of the commercialism of it all. Damn. If your mother is still alive, go see her, and tell her that you love her. Pick some dandelions and put a ribbon around them. If you can't go see her, call or even write a letter. She will take it out many times to read again how much you love her. Do it now. Don't wait. Some day, you too will be tired of hearing about mother's day.....

Never again

Never again will I judge someone solely on the appearance of their horse.

In my smug arrogance, I have always looked at horses and thought well, or ill of their owners, based solely on what lay before me. If the horse looked skinny, or ill cared for, in my mind, their owner sucked...shouldn't be allowed to have horses. If the horse looked fine, then surely their owner must be A-OK.

After dealing with Baxter for the last week, I have learned that sometimes there is a reason for a horse to look like it's owner is neglecting it's care. I now know that sometimes, you just have to do what you can, and hope that it's enough, even though it doesn't seem that it could be.

I am so unhappy with the whole situation. If I walked into a field and saw a horse that looks like Baxter does right now, I would be totally disgusted with it's owner. I am so stressed by this entire train wreck. At least he is eating the antibiotic, thank goodness. He seems to be fine, other than a slight limp. There is not a lot of swelling. There is a ton of exudate, but I cannot do more than a quick swipe of the wound dressing before he takes off again.

It is incredibly depressing. There is nothing like a 1200 pound animal with a brain the size of a ping-pong ball to make one feel totally inadequate and right now that is how i feel.

Poor Baxman

It took me 40 minutes to accomplish the deed this morning. The drugs have definitely worn off. He was not lame, and the swelling is not horrible. The lower leg is a bit swollen, but that was to be expected. The place I am boarding him is nice, but has NO accommodations for a hurt horse. There is not even a place safe enough to tie him up so that he can't run circles around you while you try to treat something. My DH is going to go with me this afternoon to hold him and play cookie dispenser while I clean and treat his leg. Poor boy. I am going to try to take more pictures daily, but since it is pouring rain, I may not... we shall see.

Poor Baxman :(

It's Baby Huey's Birthday!

Remember this cute little guy?

Well, today he is three years old! He survived the terrible twos without too much drama. Happy Birthday Imagine Baxter Black!

This is Baxter...

*This* is Baxter on drugs...

This is *why* Baxter is on drugs...

I suppose it is just pure luck that I had a farrier appointment for The Nanny today. I went out a little early to feed them before Craig came. Sometimes they are way down at the bottom of the pasture, and I have to walk them back up. Today was no exception, and I walked about half way down before they saw me. They started walking back, so I went to put their feed in the feeders. I did not turn around until I had put the grain in their feeders, and there, to my pure unadulterated horror was Baxter... bloody Baxter. His left hind leg from the hock down was covered with blood. He seemed totally unconcerned with the cut and proceeded to hog down his dinner. Even more horrifying to me was the fact that the wound was bubbling in two places. I almost fainted. Of course, having taken care of infected joints before, I was really afraid that the joint had been compromised, and that can be fatal. Damn Baxter! I have cared for much more horrific injuries - one mare whose chest was torn open to the bone by a longhorn cow. Legs laid open... open sinus cavities... cut, torn, and bowed, and bleeding, but not on MY horse. If this cut had been on his butt, or shoulder...anywhere but a joint, I wouldn't even have called the vet. I did, of course, call Joleen and cry like a little girl. Geeze.

Excuse me, but HOLY SHIT. This is *my* horse. The one that I had to have, sight unseen, from the first phone call where Joleen told me what he looked like. My baby is hurt! I wanted to vomit.

Here are more pics of his birthday present to me. Click on the pics to see larger versions. I lightened these up a lot so you could see the cut.

And more pics.

This is the back of the right hock. Obviously, he got wrapped up in something, but I walked the entire pasture and could not find what he hurt himself on.

The vet came out within an hour, thank whomever is in charge of vet's. We tranqued him and shaved/washed the wound. He probed around, and found much to my relief that the joint capsule was not involved. Neither were any of the tendons/sheaths. There are two one to two inch holes, connected by a two to three inch piece of skin. There is about a five inch diameter pocket under the skin, and the two slashes are into the muscle, most of the way to the bone, but thankfully, shy of the joint. On top of the tranq's, he also got bute and some antibiotics. Of course due to the diabolical placement of the wound, it cannot be stitched, or even bandaged. The biggest concern the vet had was that due to the location of the wound, it is possible that he could slough all the skin over the five inch pocket. He did not think that it would hamper his movement after it heals, so that is a mercy. He did say that it could take a very long time to heal, again due to the location. There is no way to immobilize the joint to keep the granulation tissue from being torn again and again. So, it is antibiotics and bute and keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn't get infected.

Shit.

Oh, The Nanny did get her shoes. I hope they will help her be more comfortable....

I think I am going to have a nice drink...and go to bed.

Happy Birthday Baby Huey

More blooms

These were blooming in the greenhouse. The colors are so vivid and lovely. I think the red is my favorite. Well... maybe the orange... I dunno.

Roses roses....

Anyone remember that perfume? Avon used to sell it. I have no idea if it is still available, but it was my mother's favorite. I found some while we were going through her things, and it immediately brought back good memories :)

I don't know that she really had a favorite flower, since she loved them all. If you judge by percentage, the things planted around her house, I think roses were probably her favorite. They are blooming now. Her favorite color was pink, so various shades of pink prevail, with a few yellows and oranges thrown in for good measure.

This one is my favorite. I have always loved things that were multi colored. Most of these are miniature roses and the blooms are tiny, around an inch to two inches for the biggest ones.

This is one of the few full sized roses. It is an old old one that she transplanted 25 years ago. It smells heavenly.

Barn friends

Here are some of the little friends that hang out at the barn. I almost stepped on the poor frog as I was bucking a bale of hay. He was sitting in the grass and I thought it was a piece of bark at first. When I picked him up to move him to someplace safer, I was surprised to see the bright orange under his legs. He was so cute, I hated the thought of his demise under my feet. Poor little guy.

Here is The Cat. He apparently lives in the pasture, because he is always hanging around outside my feed room. It must be like a mouse vending machine. There are always mice in there. Stinky little things :( I would love the cat if he didn't insist on spraying on my water tank. GAH! Oh well. At least he is pretty. I hope he learns quickly. Baxter has a zero tolerance policy about anything stompable. I have not seen the cat actually *in* the pasture, so hopefully there won't be a flat cat future for him :)