Finally

Yesterday was the closing on my mother's house. After two plus months of stress and aggravation it is finally done. Thanks to Hope, the closer, I did not have to attend the closing and was able to sign all the papers ahead of time. I am so glad this is finally done. I hope the young couple that bought the house will love it as much as my mother did. Good luck to them.

Hee hee! hahahahaha

I sooo needed a good laugh, and I just found
this floating around. I almost wet myself.
It's almost as funny as the blue eyed horse
registry, which is a for real deal!

Enjoy!

http://wtfregistry.vpweb.com/default.html

Probate... it ain't for sissies

So this has been going on for nearly two years. I don't know how many papers have been filed, or billing hours racked up, but I can tell you that the stress is terrible. I have alternately been depressed, and hopeful. It is no fun. None at all. Think long and hard when you are making out your will. Make sure that all your shit is in a pile, or at least in a place where the poor slob you have designated as your Personal Representative can find it, and get it to the lawyers.

I think most people have absolutely no idea what goes on after they die. They believe, thanks to commercials that tell them so, that if they have a will, everything will be hunkey dorey and it will all be good. Well, I am here to tell you that is a big fat lie. Even if everything is spelled out, you still have to go to court. You have to ask permission to fart. You have to make sure that anyone and everyone who might possibly have a claim, all the way back to cave-man days knows that your loved one died. You have to send out notices... notice I typed notice(s). Plural. And for every notice you send out - heirs, debts, other claims, newspapers, and on and on, you have to wait. You have to wait to give any of the bloodsuckers who wouldn't otherwise come forward to get off their dead asses and come to the hearing that involves them. If for any reason, the notices are not right (up to and including simple typo's), then you must get a continuance, and set another court date. Do not ask me how I know this, just know that I do know. Once you finally get all the papers right, then you have your day in court. This takes all of 5 minutes, and requires that you sign a paper.

All of the above is just so that you can get to be appointed the executor (Personal Representative) of the estate. Now comes the fun stuff. Going through all of the stuff. You know, the stuff the person left behind. Their life. If you are like me, this is the worst thing you have ever done. You have to decide to throw stuff out. You have to decide what to sell, and what to keep, and you have to play referee to everyone who wants stuff. When all the stuff is gone, then you start on the house. For me, this was the most difficult thing. The house was where my mother lived. Selling it is severing the last physical tie to my mother. Knowing that someone else will be living there, and perhaps changing everything about it is difficult at best.

I thought nothing would be harder than making the decision to call a realtor and put the house on the market. Boy, was I wrong. I thought that you just called a realtor, and sold the stupid house. Ahahahaha!! Notice the slightly hysterical edge to the laughter? Well, that is because what should be a very simple thing (to my way of thinking) has turned out to be a huge assed mess. You have to get *permission* from the court to sell the house. Then you have to show them the offer, and tell them that it is the best offer you are likely to get. If they think so, they approve the sale. But wait... you have to notify the heirs (that you have already gone to court over like 12 times) that you are selling it. Then wait. Then inform them that the court says you can (then wait some more). Then you get approval to approve the sale.

We have had a few setbacks. The judge is new to this type of law, and is a by the letter (forget the book) person. If something is not right, instead of changing it there, we have to have a do-over. It is insane I tell you. If we can get the latest paper resolved, then we are ready to close on the house. After that, we will have to go to court over another part of the estate, and cannot distribute the funds until that is settled. I am going to assume it will be as big a mess as the last part was, so I don't see winding the whole thing up for several more months.

So, when you do the right thing, and make a will to let the world know where everything goes, just know that you have done the easy part. Try to keep everything simple and clear. Make sure that you have done all the things you need to do, painful as it is for you to face your mortality. You will save your executor a lot of heartbreak. And for those of you who know you will be an executor, find yourself an excellent attorney. Ask questions. Surf the net, and find out what is going to happen. I was so naive, and it has made me this _close to being insane, and it ain't over yet...

As the windmill turns...

The continuing saga of boarding at the ever exciting and changeable Agony Acres!

So, I drive up to the barn. Stop to open the gate, because there is always at least one and usually 6-9 horses running loose, waiting to mug me for my grain...drive through, and close the stinking gate. Have I mentioned what a pain in the ass it is to have to fight off any number of hungry horses in order to get to my paddock??

Anyway, I get back in my truck and drive past the falling down house full of used books (whose pages are scattered all over the place, and end up in my water tanks), and what do I see? I see three, that is right, not two, as in Baxman and Miss Susie, but three horses in my *private* paddock. I pay extra so that my horses do not have to have roomies. So I am a bit shocked and pissed to say the least. The horse that is in my paddock is a filly that I had the pleasure of introducing to the longe whip, since she was going to run me over to get at the grain in the bed of my truck, and then had the nerve to back up and try to kick me. Uh...no....

Lo and behold, the barn manager (hereafter referred to as BM) was there waiting for me. He could tell by not only the look on my face, but also the tone of my voice that I was pissed. I explained to him as nicely as I could that I did not appreciate paying for a private paddock, and finding someone else's' horse in my pasture. I explained to him that I had gone to a fair expense to make it so my horses were confined to their pasture, and safe, and that I did not expect to have to fence OUT everyone else's' horses.

After we reached an understanding about how I felt, we proceeded to remove the invader... We got her in my small feed area, thinking she couldn't run far.... She ran right through two strands of hot tape without hesitation. He did not believe me when I warned him that she would kick. He believed me after she got cornered and began backing up to deliver the double barrel. Fool. After much dithering about, and him applying the end of a lead rope to her backside, we finally caught her and she was evicted. I told him to tell her owners that I was VERY unhappy, and if she got back in my paddock, and injured either me or my horses, I would sue them. I hope he understood that I was serious, because I won't hesitate.

He proceeded to give me some sob story about she had been locked in the barn, and he just didn't know who had let her out, and how she was in heat and causing him troubles with his stallion. The same stallion that regularly breaks out and impregnates horses all over the farm, hence my two fence chargers. Blah Blah Blah... I don't want to hear it. My horses have never (knock wood) gotten out, or caused any problem at all. I can't believe that I am going to have to spend the money to put hot tape on the frigging outside of my paddock, not to keep my horses in, but to keep all these other ill bred pukes out! What is up with that??? Someone needs to enforce the damn rules that say if your horse is getting out, you will purchase and install hot tape and a fence charger. I think they don't want to spend more on the fence than they spent on the damn horse.

I am really sick of catching horses out in the road, and having to be mean to horses that are hungry, and running loose because their sorry excuses for owners don't care enough to get a fricking fence charger (I have 2) and make sure their horses are safe. It is just ridiculous. The BM is no help either. He leaves all his horses out loose every single day too. He has a two month old (accidental) baby. He just doesn't get that babies have no sense, and will dart through an open gate if they feel like it. I don't get it... don't people care if their horses get out in the road and get hit, or cause someone to die??? I know of at least two horses that have been killed in the road from this place. Sheesh! I have personally caught 5 different horses (some more than once) and put them back where they belong.

I do not work for the BM. I do not work off my board. I should not have to be filling water tanks, feeding starving horses, calling people to tell them their horses are hurt or sick, or have knocked down their hot fence, pushed a poorly chained gate open, or are running loose in the middle of the road. I already have a job. I pay my board, and care for my horses.... The BM should do his job, and enforce the rules.

ARGG!!! I cannot wait to move!

Whiney, aren't I?

There's a pineapple waiting in Hell for my realtor

Here's a little update on my mother's house. The deal fell through. Apparently the woman had a car accident and her car was totalled. She has to use the closing money to get another car, so the deal is off. The really funny part is that my realtor has known this for a week, and has had the paperwork to cancel the deal since then. Has he called me? No! Emailed? No...sent a passenger pigeon? Hell no! Kim, my younger sister, offered to deal with the real estate stuff for the estate, so she has been the one he has been in (non) communication with. We hadn't heard anything on the inspection that was supposed to have happened last Tuesday, so she called him Sunday. He told her some big whopper about still trying to make the deal happen.... Today, she decided to call the other woman's agent and got the real story. Amazing. sigh....

There is a daily pineapple waiting for him in hell. (If you haven't seen "Little Nicky", you won't understand that reference :-O)

Off to get proposals from new realtors, because ours is FIRED! Needless to say, I am not a happy camper...no sir, not one bit.

What sucks?

Well, let me tell you. It sucks that finally after more than a year, we got an offer on my mom's house. We were not happy with it, but we accepted it anyway. Today, Bill and I were over there doing a final walk around/pick stuff up, and a car pulled up in the drive. It was the buyer, come to show her entire fricking family the house. Ok... So she asks me a few questions, and I started to tell her all about mom's plants and gardens. She informed me that number one, she is allergic to roses, so those all have to go. Ok, I can understand that. Next, she tells me that the whole yard is just way too busy for her, so about a month after the closing, she is going to have a big old barbeque, and invite all her friends to a "digging party". They will get to dig up all of my mother's gardens, and either take what they want, or throw it out.

Logically, I get that it will be her house, and she could burn the fucking thing down if she wanted to, but to say that I am upset is *the* understatement of the year. This really hurts my soul. All the years mom spent making her home a refuge, and this "person" is just going to willy-nilly dig it up and destroy it. It seriously made me want to vomit. Why would someone buy a house that has huge gardens, and then tear them out? Whatever... as long as the check is good, I guess that's just life.

So now you know. This sucks. I just thought I was depressed before.

Anxiety

Talk about having an anxiety attack! My older sister called and asked me if I'd heard from my brother today. I told her no. It is not unusual that I do not hear from him. However, he is almost without fail, online every night. I had noticed he wasn't online tonight, but I didn't think too much of it. I tried to call him, but got no answer. He will almost always answer me, or call right back. So... I am getting a little anxious. My brother had a minor heart attack about a year ago, so it is not beyond possible that he could have another one. I decided to call his friend Annette and see if she'd heard from him. Well, she hadn't. Great, now I can't breathe. My DH said he would drive me over there, so I got my keys to my brother's place and off we went. I hate things like this because I have a very active imagination..... sheesh.

So we get there, and notice the dogs are oustide and not a light on anywhere. Not a good sign. I unlocked the back door. I was very careful to call out to him because he has a gun, and he won't hesitate to shoot someone breaking in to his house. As I went in, I was flipping on lights and calling his name. No answer. Damn it...now I am getting really scared. I got to his bedroom and saw what appeared to be someone on the bed. I called his name again and flipped on the light, and lo and behold! He's alive, and freaked out by the lights and people standing in his door! Apparently he changed shifts at work and didn't tell me. He usually tells me. Well don't I feel foolish.... Actually, I am glad he is alive, and that he did not shoot my ass. I scared the poor guy to death, but it sure wasn't any fun for me either. It sucks getting older, and worrying about something serious happening to someone you used to assume was out having fun with friends. Well, not this time. Yay!!

Job update

We have all but one small pour done on the big job. We are in negotiations about that last pour since it was mislabeled on the plans, and we did not bid it. Until we get confirmation that we will be paid for it, we are considering our part done. At least the placing and stamping part.

We spent the better part of last week pressure washing, scoring joints and sealing on two big sections. There is over 14,000 square feet of imprint on this job. It had to be scored on 4 foot centers each way. Baby, that's a lot of scoring, I don't care who you are. DH has a nifty saw called a slab crab that is self propelled. It rolls merrily along scoring the concrete without much work on the human's part. You just have to make sure it stays on the line and watch it go. It's sorta like a roomba for sawing! ;)

Once the slab crab has crawled over the slab, you have to go behind and score the low places it missed. This has to be done by hand with a diamond blade on a grinder. Let me tell you right now that this is NO FUN. After spending entire days squeezing the trigger of the pressure washer, my hands did NOT want to hold the grinder. It is really hard because it has such high RPM's that it tries to twist itself out of your grip. If you have carpal tunnel syndrome, this can be sheer agony. It is like someone is driving hot icepicks into your wrist and hand. OUCH! Once all the lines are scored, then they have to be painted so that they look like real mortar joints. Fortunately my little monkeys can do that reasonably well, so I didn't have to have a huge knee from crawling around on the concrete.

Anyway, enough whining. Here are some pictures of the job. The part that looks black has had sealer applied. This is going to be a very cool thing when it's finished. It will look great until the first time a car drives over the white sidewalk and leaves tread marks. The architect did not specify sealer, so after a few days/weeks the white concrete will be dirty gray. Oh well.... :)

Here is what the contrast will look like with the white concrete sidewalks They are not colored, but actually made with white concrete - white sand, cement, and rocks. It costs a fortune. The white diamond shape at the bottom of the photo will be filled in with polished granite. This is one of several things that I don't believe were well thought out. Polished granite is slicker than greased owl guts and some idiot *will* slip and fall on it when it's wet. Oh well, whatcha gonna do? At least it will look stunning :)

Here are some of the lines that were scored and then painted. I am sure there are miles of them. I will let someone else figure out just how many, as mathematics are not my strong suit :)This is the bollard brigade. I know each one of them intimately, and hate them all. What a fricking pain in the ass they were. I shall not miss them. I will not be happy when we start getting calls to repair the concrete when people hit them. It will not be cheap!Here is my DH sealing the concrete. This is really hard on his back. Walking backwards, bent over at the waist is bad juju for someone who has sciatica. Everything has to have two coats. Bummer man!

This has got to be THE most brilliant thing I have ever seen! NOT!!! There is a scant inch and a half cover over this pipe. In some spots, it is much less. I can guarantee that it will crack the concrete. I would be willing to bet $5000 that it does. I do not gamble lightly. I never make a bet I can't win. I wonder which trade will end up being hijacked over this. I promise you that it won't be us. We had no choice. We were not responsible for grade or base prep, so it's all on someone else. Isn't that just unbelievable? I can't even imagine anyone thinking it was ok. Oh well :-)

Hand update

It hurts worse. I am not a happy girl.

Politically incorrect...

These are pictures of the inside of one of the porta johns currently at the jobsite we are working on. I find it interesting that different jobs tend to have much different graffiti in the porta johns. I highly suspect that it has a lot to do with which trades are working on that job. On some sites, there is a lot of hand drawn porn. Some of it is remarkably accurate *snort*. You'd think an artist would have better places to leave his art.... Some tend to take issue with the superintendant on the job, and tell everyone that his parents were never married, etc. This job seems to have a few resident philosophers. It's kind of interesting actually. There is none of the usual stuff.

WARNING: If you find racial slurs offensive, stop here. Do not look at the pictures. Also note, I did not write any of the graffiti, nor do I endorse any of it. I merely took some pictures. You may need to click on the pictures to be able to read the writing. Enjoy...or not...

Owwww!!

I think as I am getting older, I am becoming way more accident prone. I am constantly smashing, dislocating, hyperextending, twisting or otherwise maiming myself. Monday was a not so good day for me. I came home from feeding (after having a pretty normal "good" day - I should have known....) and of course my darling doggers were waiting to mob me and get their evening skritches. Monkey was on one side, and Blondie on the other. They are usually pretty careful around me because I tend to squall bloody murder if they hurt my knee. On Monday, they were just sooo excited. Monk performed the Atomic But Bump (TM) on Blondie and she moved, and her foot was right where I was going to step. So, instead of stepping on her foot, I tried to step around her. Well, that was a miserable failure, and I managed to fall. Not a big deal, I fall all the time. Unfortunately, I stupidly tried to catch myself on my hand. It made a nice icky noise and I felt something give. It hurt like hell too. DH came to pick me up (isn't he sweet?) cause I was sitting there bawling because it hurt. He got me up and I went in and put an ice pack on it. Just what I needed to go along with my arthritis and carpal tunnel. YAY! NOT!

I figured it wasn't that big a deal. Everything hurts when you do it, and it would be better by the morning. Well, it wasn't. DH has broken both of his thumbs, and he looked at mine and said I should go have it looked at. Well hell :( Ok. So I did. They xrayed it and poked and pulled and flipped my fingers and pulled my arm and flexed my elbow. There was no visible fracture on the xray. The Doc said I had to come back, because he is worried that the swelling might be hiding a fracture in my thumb or wrist. Great huh?

They gave me this torture device they called a splint. I am not the best patient in the world. I don't like being restricted much, and this splint is driving me insane. I can't move my thumb. It is sticking out in the way of doing anything constructive, which is pissing me off. The worst part is I have to wear it for at least a week until they redo the xrays. HARUMPH. We poured 7 times in 5 days last week, and my hands are both very unhappy. They are swollen and they hurt, and now this. The Doc said I had a "remarkable amount" of arthritis for someone my age. He asked if I had had surgery on my hands. ??? Uh no. I told him that I had worked on a horse farm, and now finished concrete, and I'd had a lot of injuries. He just shook his head. Wonder what that meant? Oh well.

I have been too busy to update much here. I do have some pictures of the big job. We have actually finished parts of it - done, finito, sealed and we don't care who walks on it now! YAY! When I remember where I stashed my camera, I will try to get caught up. I have no idea where it actually is. I must think about it.....

Great... just great.

I demand to know whose fricking brilliant idea the switch to digital TV was??? I demand to know! I want to be able to personally smack them upside their head with something smelly and disgusting. I am sooo not a happy camper.

Let me explain why I am so unhappy. The local CBS affiliate has always broadcasted over the radio as well as the TV. For the last oh, say...20 years, I have listened to this broadcast at work. I started when I worked at the barn, and just out of habit, continued right up till 1:00pm yesterday. At that time, the local station went ahead and changed over to digital. They apparently have not made any provisions to continue the radio broadcasts, despite the fact that a lot of people listen to them during emergencies when the power goes off. This is so ironic, because they stated the reason for not waiting until June, which is the government deadline, was because that is severe weather time here, and they did not want to risk being off the air during a weather emergency. Bah!

What am I gonna do now?? NO weather for when we are out on a job. No news! No SOAPS!!! I am sitting here listening to "Fire and Rain" on the radio. Every 10 seconds, I reach over and start to change it to the TV broadcast, only to remember it is GONE! In place of my regularly scheduled The Young and the Chestless, is some idiot telling people how to hook up their black box, which is then repeated in spanish...over and over. This is serious. How can I have a decent Stampmonkey Nap (tm) without being able to drift off to someone being murdered, having an affair with their ex's dead brother, or having a miracle baby pop out of a 93 year old woman?? I am asking you HOW? I am jonesing for a fix... My head aches. I think the shakes are starting. What-to-do-what-to-d0???

I have written an email to the person in charge of such things at the TV station. Perhaps they will realize the real importance of this. Seriously, I do wonder if they considered just how many people rely on the radio during bad weather, which indeed is coming fast.

I wonder if any of the teeny portable TV's will get digital signals????

Progress

We are still working on the big performing arts center. It is a nice job for us. There is abound fifteen thousand square feet of imprinted concrete. It has some difficulties, but every job does, and these are minimal really. The biggest headache are the traffic control bollards that run through the middle of the traffic area. Whatever genius put them there did not think about the inevitable problems that will occur when someone hits one with their car. It will cause considerable damage to our stuff, but I guess that is kind of good because then we will get to go and fix it. Yay! Heh.

The latest fun has come because they are pushing us. We are sort of like bulldogs in that if you push us, we push right back. We talked to the super on the job and asked him when they expect to turn the building over. He told us 6 to 8 weeks. Well that is great! We have 3 pours to make before we reach the front door. Apparently, the people working on the interior are nowhere near finished. This means that we cannot pave in front of the door until they get all of their big machines out of the building, because the front door is the only one big enough to get them through. So they are pushing us to do about 4 days work so that they can then tell us we can't work. WTF?

The super came to us last Thursday, and asked us if we were pouring on Saturday. I said absolutely not, since it was my birthday, and I do NOT work on my birthday. He declined my offer to show him my driver's license, and said he agreed that nobody should have to work on their birthday. Of course, it is his job to um, encourage the various trades to get their part done. I have no heartburn with this. Someone has to do it, and as supers go, Carl is a good one. As long as you tell him the truth, show up, and actually do some work, he loves you. He calls me Miss Mary Sunshine. (Boy do I have him fooled or what?) Carl loves us, but he still pushes us to do more, every day.

Here is the drill on a typical commercial construction job. We have been waiting almost a year to start this job. They told us they would be ready for us - in three months, then next month, then next week ad nauseum. We have been on this job exclusively since we started. We have not pulled off, and have turned down work to concentrate on this one job. So, in 4 more working days, we will be sitting on our hands because everyone else is behind, but they are *still* pushing. On most projects, the actual concrete (not asphalt parking etc) is one of the last things done on the job. That is great for us, as the other trades are all gone, and they don't slob up our stuff. Now if this was the case on this job, it would make sense for them to push us, but the interior is nowhere near completion. As it stands, it makes no sense to me, but that's just how it works. I think Carl is pushing because it is what he does. He cannot help himself...sort of like me and my shoes!

Here are a few updated pics. It doesn't look like much of anything yet, because it hasn't been cleaned and sealed. It will look a lot different when it is finished. See the diamond shape in this sidewalk? Those are spread out in the white sidewalks and are going to be filled in with black granite tiles. How cool will that look??

See this guy on the ladder? He is an electrician. These guys are moles I swear. They dug trenches along all of our pours, just the right distance to be in the way when we are working. They dug them 6 or 7 weeks ago and just left them. Nice way to break an ankle. Bad bad moley electricians!

Here is someone's idea of brilliance...NOT! This is going to crack the concrete as sure as Prisoner Y has blue eyes. Apparently when they were designing this thing, nobody thought about where the water would run off, and made the grade too high. So we get to pour to fill in that sharp point, and it is too shallow to add any reinforcement, so it will fail. Of course, they will try to blame us, but I have before pictures, so try somebody else...like whoever planned the grade. That dog don't hunt :-)

Here is the pour we made under duress yesterday. Dumbest thing known to an imprinter is pouring when there is a 70% chance of rain. Rain BAD! Big-assed hail is even worse. They were forecasting spring-like thunderstorms for last night through this morning. Any fool who has lived in Oklahoma for any time at all knows that this means hail, horizontal rain, and possibly tornadoes. Fortunately our Karma account was paid up, so we think the pour was not too damaged. DH is going to look at it and pump out the swimming pool next door so we can pour that tomorrow. There he is on the left. Ain't he something?? I sure like him :) Here is the pool he is going to try to dry out by tomorrow morning...good luck man!

I am STILL not Imelda Marcos

Imelda Marcos had questionable taste in shoes.

My shoes however are high class....well ok, they are hi-TOPS. I do have one pair that are not. They are bright yellow, neon even! Anyways, on to my latest acquisition. They are blue. Electric, cobalt, fingerpaint blue. You know the color... They are even better than the purple ones. These will definitely not go into the lineup for work. I am setting them aside for special occasions! Am I a dork or what? I may be the only woman I know who will actually wear tennis shoes to a wedding. Well, if I wear a skirt, I have boots, but other than that it's tennis shoes or riding shoes. No heels for me! Hee!

Here they are in all their blueness. I adore them. They are actually a deeper shade, with a hint of purple, but my camera said no, so here is the pic!Seriously, if you don't love them, you should see someone...there's something wrong with you. Seriously :)

Satan invented fiber one bars

I am telling you, it's the truth. Fiber one bars are evil. You are supposed to eat them so that your gut stays happy. Well let me tell you, my gut had a party. It partied all day and all night. Of course, the party was thrown without my permission. If I'd have known what was going to happen, I never would have eaten the damn thing. I farted more in one day than in the last month. When you are out working on a job, the bathroom (portajohn) is often a long way away. Not to mention when it is freezing out, you wear your warm stuff, which is hard to get on and off. Both of those things make you not want to take a 1/4 mile walk just to let off some steam. It is frowned upon to rip off a big fart in a crowd of people, even on a construction site. So you have to go sit in your truck, or walk far enough away that nobody wants to put you under the concrete. Then there is the concern that when it is way below freezing, and you fart, does it make a big old foggy cloud so that everyone on the job *knows* you just ripped one off?? I mean really, how embarrassing is that? For all of these reasons, I will not eat another fiber one bar. They are yummy, but the benefit is outweighed by the unending amounts of gas they cause.

You can try it yourself if you like, but don't say I didn't warn you....

Seeing Double

It's the double-mint twins!! One is Baxter, one is not Baxer. Can you tell which is which? Dilligent students of Prisoner Y will be able to spot him...Oh I made a funny. Spot...get it? Ok it wasn't that funny. :-P Anyway, the body double is Baby Huey's full sister, Blue. I wish I could get my hands on her... Four of these pictures are Blue, the rest are The BaxMan! Have fun :)

The Broken Arrow Performing Arts Center

This is where we are working rignt now. We have a little over 14,000 square feet of stampwork to do here. Fortunately for Bill and I, the company we subbed the job from is actually pouring it out for us. Since Bill and I are the only ones on our crew who can actually finish concrete, this is a big help for us as straight edging is a butt-ton of work.

The architect had a great concept for this job. The paving is actually dark gray, almost black, and white. The white sidewalks run through our black imprint and it will look really neat...for about 3 days. For some silly reason, he did not specify a sealer for the white concrete, which means that every time a car drives over it there will be tire marks. Soon, it will be dull gray anywhere there is auto traffic. The white concrete is really white. It has white cement, sand and aggregate. It supposedly also has oyster shells included in the mix. It is incredibly expensive at almost $200 a yard. It sure is pretty coming out of a mixer though.

Here are some pictures!

This is the white sidewalk. Not a great picture, I will do better later. We are making some fairly large pours on this project. The tools we are using allow us to do much larger areas than the tools with joints. It's pretty nice to get large chunks out of the way, instead of doing a bazillion small pours. YAY!!!

This job is full of difficulties. The bollard run though the middle of our pours. That means that we have to work around them and let me tell you, troweling at a distance, around something is a challenge. Bill actually made a stamp that fits right around the bollards, so stamping is easy. He's the bomb! The bollards are actually the traffic control devices for this big drive. Every other one has a light in it. Bill and I both anticipate them being knocked over pretty quickly. It will make a mess of our work. Oh well :)

This is the pour we filled in last Friday. We had to go back and cover it with curing blankets since it was dropping into the 20's that night. The wind was gusting to over 40mph. I know this because I was standing on one of the curing blankets and it flat picked us both up and surfed us over the slab and I know that it takes at least a 40 mph wind to blow my fat ass around. I was not amused. I finally had to get down on my hands and knees to keep from being blown away. Did I mention that the wind chill was in the teens?? Well it was. I fricking hate the wind. You can see the white sidewalk a bit better here.

This is the texture the architect chose. It is a ripple slate. It's kind of a subtle texture that is very pedestrian/handicap friendly. Here, it is still covered with release, so you can't actually see the color which is a sort of silvery charcoal gray if that makes sense.

I am hoping that I will be able to get inside and take some pictures of this after we are finished. I think it is going to be very attractive once it's done. Now it looks like a puzzle that isn't finished.

Monkey wrangler!

The past two weeks have been very busy for us. We *finally* got to start the big job that we have been waiting on over a year. We made some pretty big pours, and man did it beat me down. My right knee was as big as a good sized grapefruit. These tools require you to walk a lot. In order to get good texture you have to take little tiny steps all over the things. They are about 4' x 4', so you can imagine stepping back and forth to cover that area probably a thousand times in a pour. My knee does not like this. Taking little tiny steps is hard on my knee and hips both. It is really just exhausting. It is also dirty and there is no time to eat once you start, so you get very tired. I am thinking that I'm too old for this shit.

Enter "the boys". We have two kids working for us that are around 18. They do not know how to finish concrete. In fact, when they try, they mess up more than they fix which means that Bill or I have to constantly go behind them and fix what they screw up. I finally decided that instead of watching me work, they should get their bony asses out there and do something... So I had them get on the tools, and let them wear themselves out doing what I usually do. Between the two of them, they managed to do a fairly good job, only making a couple of mistakes.

So now, in addition to being the StampMonkey, I am also a Wrangler for StampMonkeysInTraining. Thank doG. I am going to work their little asses off while I stand around and watch. I am incredibly stupid for not making them do this before. All this time they have been picking their noses while someone old enough to be their mother works till she drops...now it's their turn. Bwaaaahahahahaha! Pictures to follow :)

Barrel Killer

Truck trees

I found one!

Ever since Prisoner Y has been having his dental issues, I have been looking all over the place for the caps I know he must be shedding. It's a pretty big paddock, so I have not had any luck until last Friday. I finally found the thing that has been making him chew like he was eating lemons.

Here it is, front and back. This one has been worn quite a bit. Sometimes you can find one that has no wear on it, and they are pretty cool. I know I am weird, but I think they're neat.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

Ok, you know that I have been thinking about cutting my hair, yes? Well I was just screwing around with one of those programs where you put your picture up and then the program will put different hair on the picture so you can see what you will look like. Hahahaha! I demand to know right this second who swapped my picture for Marty Feldman??? You want to talk about some scary shit, well that was pretty scary. Imagine Jessica Simpson hair on Marty Feldman, and you will have a pretty good idea of what I saw. Hell! Delete Delete DELETE!!! How discouraging :( Horrifying actually. I really should make *some* attempt to look like a human being on even numbered days...

I am going to go back to playing with my pictures now.

Prisoner X abandons Prisoner Y

It is always dark when I feed the prisoners in the morning. I like it. No noise, no people, just the prisoners and me. Lots of nickering and quiet talk. This morning I drove up, and no Prisoners. Oh Dear! So I wait a few seconds. Still no Prisoners. This is odd. They are *always* waiting for me in the morning. I went and dished up the slop, and by the time I had watered it down, Prisoner X had made her appearance. Still no Prisoner Y! Oh NO!

Back to the truck for a flashlight. Grabbed the slop buckets, and fed Prisoner X on the way to search for the boy. Saw something dark looking on the far side of the round bale. There he is! Oh dear! He is stretched flat out. Eyes open... evidently not breathing. Not moving!! ARGGG!!! My BOY! I waved the flashlight over his eyes several times... nothing. I finally stepped up near his head to look closer and... **blink**! Yayassssss! Thank you Jeeeesus! **blink** Utter confusion is written all over his face. He finally rolled up to his chest and blinked a bunch more. I put my hand under his nose, and he sniffed, and seemed to finally wake up.

I showed him the slop bucket, and took off back to the feeder. I think he figured out that dining Roman style was out of the question, and finally got his lazy ass up to followed me. He was still asleep, as he ambled slowly instead of bolting and bucking. Sheesh! I can't believe that Prisoner X abandoned her charge for food. She has never left him while he is sleeping. She must have tried to wake him up, as I have never seen him sleep alone, nor with his eyes open. Shame on her! I was ready to have a conniption. Thank goodness all the prisoners are accounted for, and seem in good health.

Ahhh the joys of owning a deaf horse! Thank goodness he wasn't all the way at the back of the pasture :)

Big Boys Don't Wear Lipstick in PUBLIC!!

I wrote about Baxter not being just right at dinner a couple of nights ago. I watched him the next day, and he was still just not right, so I called and made an appointment for Doc to come see what was going on.

We looked in his mouth as well as we could before sedating him, and saw that he had finally (at almost 4) shed some caps, but Bax wasn't real fond of having someone's arm shoved in his mouth, so we decided to sedate him and get a good look.

Baxter is pretty special. It takes about twice as long for any sedative to act on him, and about an hour before it is safe to leave him alone in the pasture. So Doc got his float and other stuff out while Baxman was getting good and loopy. After a bit, he re-examined his mouth and found not only a partial cap, but some developing hooks on his upper molars on one side. His wolf teeth also decided to erupt - finally. I think poor Baxter is a case of arrested development for sure. Everything is late with him - losing caps, wolf teeth, stopping growing...grrrr. Ahem... anyway... So the floating proceeded, and went pretty well. Baxter did NOT like it. Of course, he was all fuzzled up with good drugs, so the worst he could do is roll an eye at me. Poor BOY! He got the wolf teeth pulled. Tiny little things. The vet was surprised at how tiny they were. Baxter is so special!

Why is it that you can only get a good head shot when there is something hideous on your horses' head huh? Isn't his face pretty? Well, once you get past the bloody lip it is :)

Doc also treated the little cut by his eye. He did it about 4 days ago, and by the time I found it, it was too late to do anything about it, so I just wiped it off and left it. It wasn't a big deal, but since we had him snockered up, it just made sense to clean it up again. After all the drama, he spent the next hour tied to the fence sleeping. He is such a good boy. Poor little Susie was upset. She stood and watched the whole time, and after he was tied up, she started nickering and talking to Baxter. Yeah sure, she hates his guts. Cute.

The only bad thing about it is that I forgot to check and see if he had a bean while his weiner was hanging out. Dang. Oh well, there will be other times.

Prisoner Y Has a Problem

When I was out feeding yesterday, I noticed that Prisoner Y was cranking his head around. He had been fine while scarfing down his slop, but when he got to the alfalfa, he paused and wallered his jaw around. Sheesh. I sat and watched him for about half an hour, and he stopped wallering and ate hay, so I figured whatever it was had come unstuck and all was right with the world.

Fast forward to this morning. Of course, it is still dark when I feed, so I had to sit and wait a bit for enough light to see him eat. Sure enough, he is twisting his head around and wallering again. He is not real enthusiastic about eating, and he let me scratch his jaws, which he usually won't allow while he is eating. He was in fact, all lovey-dovey instead of giving me "the look", and wishing I would just leave. So I have made an appointment with the vet for tomorrow morning. I am sure he either has a cap or two coming off, or needs floating. He was fine the last time we checked, but it has been a few months. My one real concern is that I just got a bunch of new hay, and it is possible there there are some foxtails in it. I didn't see any, but tht doesn't mean anything. If there are 10 foxtails in 15 bales of hay, I would trust the Prisoner to search them out and try to eat them. It's just how he operates.

At any rate, it is a long way from his heart, and he is still eating and drinking, so I will wait for the vet to come see what's up. Gawd i sure don't like this kind of thing. Whatever it is, I can't do anything about it without some help and some sedation, so I am not even going to try as it would just piss him off, and I couldn't do anything anyway. Frustrating.

Harumph!

Ok people tell me honestly, does Prisoner Y look like a draft horse to you??? I will be the first to admit that he isn't exactly a delicate little hothouse orchid, but ...a *drafter*? No, seriously? He has pretty good bone, but nothing I wouldn't expect in a horse his size. Maybe I am just the most barn blind person on earth, but I don't see a trace of coarseness in him. Granted, his neck could be prettier, but still. To me, he doesn't look anything like a draft. Perhaps the color reminds people of a Clydesdale eh?

Today the hay guy came and brought my round bales. When he pulled up he asked who the pretty black horse belonged to. I told him he was mine. The very next question out of his mouth was - "Is he paint or mixed...like part draft?". Poor Baby Huey! Even though he is deaf as a post, I could tell that he was wounded by the question. He actually stopped scarfing down his alfalfa for a chew or two. HUH??? MOM! He's callin' me names! Of course there is no way for the hay guy to know my personal philosophy on riding an animal that has been bred for centuries to pull a wagon. Personally, I don't see the point. I have no heartburn with other people who ride them, but they are bred to pull, not carry, and I think it isn't good for them, so I don't ride one. I think they are way cool horses, and if I ever have a beer wagon, i will get some drafts to pull it :)

I think that the hay guy figured out that I was not amused when I told him that Baxter was insulted. He backpedaled then, saying he had meant warmblood (which in our barn were always referred to as Dumbbloods for good reason). I guess that most people who ride foxtrotters and arabians aren't used to bigger horses, so it's reasonable that they are all drafts, right?

I told him that actually, Bax is mostly QH, with some TB thrown in. Then I told him that he is three and one half. He said, he will get bigger huh? I said unfortunately, that is so. He changed the subject :) Anyway, lets compare....

I am sorry, but I honestly don't see it. Maybe I am barn blind...