Is it good... or is it bad?

So I am sitting here minding my own business, surfing, playing borbs, and reading email. I check new mail and someone has sent me an email from youtube. I get one occasionally saying how cool the Baxman is. Of course, I already know he's cool, but confirmation from an outside source is always welcome :)

So anyways, this one is a bit different. It's from a guy in Mexico. He wants to know if the Baxman is for sale. Well, they say every horse is for sale. So, being the smartass that I am, I write him back and ask what he wants him for. He writes back and says to ride, have fun with, and breed to his mares. So I write him back and say that it would be really difficult to do that since he is a gelding. I told him how big he was, blah blah blah. So he writes back and asks how much. I smartassed back and said $200,000 cash US. :)

So he writes back (the other emails were in broken english - this time in spanish) and says basically that this is outrageous and he can't spend $200K on one horse. He does say however, that if it was $20K, he would buy him. Anyone who knows me very well knows that $20,000 is my buy it now price for the Baxman. So I thought about it, and wrote back and said I would take $25,000 cash US.

Some of my horsey friends think this is a scam. I don't know if it is or not. It does not have any of the usual things that scams have. Number one, I did not put him up for sale. Number two, he has not offered me some outrageous sum of money, with extra for his "shipper" or any of that nonsense. Third, I have checked out *his* youtube page, and he has some very nice horses, either Lusitanos or Andalusians. He apparently also breeds aztecas. So this guy has money, if he is for real.

I called the woman who bred Baxter. She knows that he is my heart horse. I told her about the exchange, and she said I should sell him. As much as I know I would bawl like a baby, I know she is right. $25,000.00. It's a stupid amount of money. Outside of our mortgage, we would be totally debt free with some left over. I have told other people in the past that they were stupid for turning down big sums of money for their horses. It really is a once in a lifetime offer (if it's legit) for someone like me. He could die tomorrow.

If it is legit, I am afraid Baxter will be moving to Mexico. I think I want to vomit.

Three years... and a month

Time flies... and drags.

Three years, one month, and a few days ago, my mother died.

I have had a lot going on over the last three years. Way too much responsibility and stress. It seems like one thing gets fixed and two more rear up.

I suppose that this must be delayed grief. Sure, when she passed away I cried. I picked up the phone to call her a dozen times. I delayed and delayed going through her things, and fixing up the house so it could be sold. All the things people do when they don't want to believe their mother isn't coming back.

After all that was finished, and the estate was closed out, I thought I was done. Apparently, I am not. Lately I find myself longing to speak to her. I miss her. I want to hug her and hold her hand. Wash her hair and polish her fingernails.

I clearly see in my mind the last time I was with her. I am glad that I got to say goodbye, but I almost wish I had not gotten there when I did. My final memory of her is not a good one. She was lying in a hospital bed staring blindly at the ceiling, gasping for breath. I held her hand and told her that I loved her. I don't think she heard me. I don't know. Maybe she did. I was the last of her children to arrive at the hospital, and she died five minutes after I left her. I can still hear her breathing, her body desperately struggling to live. I have awful dreams about it. I have a hard time sleeping for days after I have that dream.

I find myself filled with remorse for not recognizing that in her later years, after most of her friends had died, that she was lonely. We are so busy all the time, and our work is exhausting, and it was easy for me to think that my brother and sister were taking care of her. They were taking care of her, but they were not enough. I realize now that she needed more. I should have done more. I suspect much of why I miss her so much now is guilt and regret. I usually don't engage in either of these. I think they are wasted emotions. I try to live in a way that doesn't leave room for that type of thing. Now suddenly in the last few weeks, they are blooming like an ugly flower. Ugh. I suppose this is one of the stages of grief delayed. Walled off since she died, and buried under responsibility.

I will work through this. I just miss her...still.

Fat Boy has a Sofa Back!

I am just pretty excited and pleased with my boy!

When I first got there today to feed, he was playing hide and seek. They were both up by the building next door eating grass. When they saw me they started for the gate. Susie kept coming, but Baxman went around to the other side of the hill and proceeded to "hide". This monster 16.2 hand 1500 pound horse actually stopped by a tree, and then sidled around until his head was hidden. Then he peeked out to see if I was looking at him. I about fell down laughing.

After I convinced him that he really wasn't hidden, I went up to the feeders and put out the slop. They ate, and I went to get them some hay. After that, I got my camera and took some more pictures. Susie is looking very good if I do say so myself. She is 25, and has some issues with her teeth, and is picky eater, so keeping her in good weight is a chore. I am pleased with her. The vet said she is perfect. He did not say the same thing about Fat Boy. *sigh* Here is Susie. She is almost black right now. She has dapples that don't show up very well here, but they're there. She is my sweetheart!

So after they ate, Fatboy, er, Baxter came over and wanted a scrub. He would turn is big fat self inside out to get a good scratch, and he drools whenever the rake makes an appearance. No rake today, but I thought I'd scratch him a bit anyway. While I was scrubbing on his belly, I thought it would be fun to see what he did if I got up on the old water tank and stood over him. Once he figured out that he would not get scratched unless he was standing next to it, he stood there and would not move. I got up on it and scratched him. He closed his eyes and heaved what can only be a sigh of ecstasy. So I reached over his back to scratch his opposite shoulder. He flicked an ear and "listened". I kept scratching and he went back to sleep. So, I put both hands on his back and put a lot of my weight on them. He listened again, and thought about leaving, but the lure of sharp fingernails digging into his fat pads won over and he went back to sleep. I scratched for a few more minutes. Then, I leaned over his back and scratched his girth area. Dear Lord. He kept sleeping. Then I put one leg up on his back. Nothing. Not even a flick. I have always had issues with slab sided horses. They don't take up enough of my leg (I have long legs for my size). I do not need to worry about that with this boy. Looking down on his back from above reminds me of a Lazy Boy lounge chair. If I could get him to stand still, I could sleep up there.

I believe that as long as he is being scratched, you could probably put him in a pot of boiling oil and he would sleep through it. Maybe... just *maybe* starting him will be a non issue. Joleen has always thought it would be, but she has not seen some of his shenanigans, so I had my doubts. After today, I am beginning to believe her. Man I hope so. I would be very happy if that were the case. I really need some good things to happen....

Goodbye Headaches, Heartburn, and the Desire to Choke the Living Crap out of Someone

Finally, the saga ends.

Let me back up and begin at the beginning. I was looking for a place to keep my horses. They are very important to me, and a safe place was number one on my list of things to look for. A friend of mine steered me to a place relatively near my home. I went with her to look the place over and meet the manager. I have to say that in looking for an affordable place to keep horses close to the city, the place was the best one I had seen so far. That's not to say it was perfect, but after looking at it, I decided that with a small investment I could make it safe enough. The manager seemed to be a good person, with a genuine interest in horses, and the people who owned them. So based on what I saw and heard, I gave him a check to hold the private pasture I'd been shown until my horses could be trailered in.

The next thing was to get some sort of shelter built for them. The pasture was just a 3 acre plot with no shed or barn. I found someone selling those portable car ports, and had seen someone convert one to a run in shed for a good price, so I ordered one. After many delays, we finally got it up and ready.

Then I set about making the fencing safe for my old lady and the deaf two year old that was her partner in crime. I bought and installed t-post toppers and electric wire. Just about that time is when things started being -not- what I had been promised. The first thing to go haywire was access to electricity for a fence charger. Suddenly, I was not allowed to use the electric outlet near my pasture because it would be "too much of a draw on it". Hmmmm. OK. So, I go out and buy a solar charger that costs three times what the regular plug in variety costs. I guess that's ok, because it is for the safety of the horses, right?.

Then there was the promise of a break on board in return for the run in shed we were building staying on the property whenever we left. That would have been great, but there was never a discount on the bill. Hmmmm, guess he changed his mind. No problem, I will just take it with me when I leave.

So, then the horses came, and for a while all was well. I had told the manager that Baxter was deaf, and if he needed to be in my pasture for any reason, he needed to call me and I would come out and put the horses up so he could do whatever was needed. Apparently the manager is selectively deaf, because a short time later I drove up and found him brushhogging my pasture with my horses loose, and Baxter was following the tractor with his nose virtually on top of the mower deck. OMG!!! I ran out and caught the horses up, and locked them in the small feed area. Then I told the manager that I had asked him not to do that and he said he couldn't find my number... Uh, yeah. Sure you couldn't. Because of this, I went and spent more money, this time on locks and chains so that he would *have* to call me. I also wrote all my contact info, including work, home and cell numbers down for him again.

A couple of months later, I drove up to my pasture to find that my locks had been cut off and the pasture had been mowed down to dirt. Ok, now I am pissed off. Not a little, but a lot. I called and got voice mail and left a scathing message. No return call. So my brilliant solution was to find a lock and chain that the jerk couldn't cut off. I also told him that I did not want him to mow my pasture any more, that I would pay someone else to do it. That ended that particular little problem.

On to the next bitch. Arrived to feed one weekend morning. Susie was in the pasture, but Baxter was not! Lovely. I found him in the stallion lane between my pasture and the one that the resident stallion lives in. The stallion had grabbed Baxter by the throat, and nearly killed him. After I caught Baxter and put him up, I started looking for the escape route. That was when I found that either the manager had removed the back fenceline from my pasture, or there had never been one to begin with. The very back of my pasture was thick woods, and the horses never went into them. I had (stupidly I guess) there surely there must be a fenceline back there, but no there wasn't. So I strung a line of step in posts with hot tape for a temporary fence until I could get some t-posts. By this time I had found that asking the manager to do anything always got the same response. "Oh yes, I will take care of that". Unfortunately he never got around to it, and this was crucial. I bought t-posts and a pounder thingy. I put half of them in and strung the hot tape on them. I left the rest of them by my feed room to do later that week. When I got ready to finish, I found that the t-posts were gone!!! I thought, great the manager finished it for me. Uh no. He had taken the t-posts that I bought and put them in the stallion's fence line!!!! ARGGGGGGG!!! Bought more t-posts and finished my fence. I am starting to really loathe this guy by now...

The next issue was when the manager decided that my pasture needed "cleaning up". So he goes in with his tractor and cuts down the brushy area at the front. This was covering up a spring that stayed wet most of the year. So the manager (from here forward referred to as "the jerk") gets his box blade and proceeds to try to "stop" the spring from being a spring. All he succeeded in was getting the damn thing stuck in my pasture. So, I put up some more step in posts to keep Baxter from killing himself on the stinking thing. It was stuck in my pasture for 2 weeks. Finally it dried out enough for the jerk to get it out. Then he comes in with a chain saw and starts cutting stuff down. That would have been fine with me, except he also took down the temp fence and left stubs sticking out all over the place. The VERY FIRST thing Baxter did was go down in that freaking mess and puncture his foot, breaking his coffin bone. Furious does not begin to describe my feelings at this point. Between vet bills, bandage materials, and fencing supplies it cost me over $1500, and I am still not sure Baxter will ever be sound for riding. The urge to beat the snot out of the jerk was almost overwhelming.

The scariest thing that happened in the three years I had my horses there was when some idiot let Baxter out of the pasture and shut the gate behind him. It happened at night, and of course I didn't find him missing till the next day. I was in a panic. My big 1400 pound deaf horse was missing. I was positive someone stole him. After much frantic searching, I finally found him at the far end of the property. Thank God he was fine. This apparently happened because the jerk had pissed off some former boarders who supposedly would sneak on the property at night and either take down fences, or let horses out. I got more chains and locks, and locked both sides of every gate accessing my pasture. I also put up a step in fence inside the regular fence. Funnily enough, Baxter did not "get out" again.

The final two things that pushed me over the edge were the stallion getting loose and grabbing Baxter again, and the jerk driving right by a black horse that was loose on the property at 5:30am and going out the open gate without stopping or closing the gate. If he will drive by that horse in the dark and leave without even trying to catch it or shut the gate, then he would drive by mine too. The single most irresponsible thing I have ever seen done around horses. I closed the gate when I left. I didn't try to put the horse away, because I had no idea which pasture it belonged in. Supposedly, someone was coming in again and unplugging the stallions electric fence. I have no idea if that is true, but I do know that the stallion attacked Baxter again, and that was it!

All of these things really happened, but were just the worst of it. There were constant annoyances like loose horses mugging you at feeding time. Loose horses getting *in* my pasture and kicking my horses. Starving horses with no food or water if I didn't feed them and fill their tanks. Horses getting loose and getting hit by cars, or impaling themselves on t-posts or injured in fences, and on and on ....

I found a new pasture. I had driven by it every day for the last 2+ years on the way to feed the horses, but it was occupied. Then I noticed it was empty, and I stopped to ask about it. It was the same price as the bad place, and only 3 miles from our office and 7 miles from home! I was lucky to find it. It is safe, close, good grass with a barn, feed room, and arena, *and* there are no stallions to break in or out and try to kill my baby boy!

Thank goodness I found it. It's a huge relief to know my horses are safe.

I have a secret.

I can't tell yet, but it's a very very good thing. I am so excited. It will be such a great thing when it's done. Hoo-ray! I can't wait.................

My little pony...not.

I do not own a pony, yet when I drove up to my "private" pasture yesterday, lo and behold. It's a miracle. Either Susie, or Baxter has given birth to a fully grown pony! Wow! There she stood by my water tank. Neither of my horses were in sight, just this little appy pony.

Ok, here comes trouble on 8 legs. Baxter and Susie had been in the barn and Susie heard my truck, so here they come. Baxter sees the pony and trots on... he wants to play with her. Susie on the other hand has a strong desire to corner and kill the poor little thing. This pony actually sort of lives outside my pasture. She is badly foundered, and majorly crippled. She can barely walk on a good day, and now Susie is running at her, trying to pen her in the corner so she can kick the snot out of the poor girl. The pony, whose name is actually Angelica, was frantically looking for a way out. She tried the hot tape and got shocked so she just stood there and shook. I yelled at Susie and she walked off to mean mug from a distance and pout. Baxter left with her.

I tried to coax the pony to come out the gate. No way Jose'. She was terrified that Susie would get her. No way was she moving out of that corner. I had to go shut off the hot tape and find a lead rope. Once I caught her, she was happy to follow me out of the gate into the area where my feed room is. I had to climb back through the fence to get my keys and unlock the outer gate to let her out. She was happy to exit the premises.

I have no idea how she got in my pasture. The fence (such as it is) was all in place, and the hot tape was on. I am just thankful that Susie didn't maim her, and Baxter didn't play her to death. She is a sad little thing. Whoever owns her doesn't seem to care that she runs loose. Of course she is so crippled that running is a figure of speech, and she stays close to my pasture because I throw her a handful of alfalfa when I feed. I wish I could afford to have her feet done, but I can't save them all.... Poor girl.

What would you do?

Ok, here's the situation...

It's 5:30am. It's freaking dark in the country at 5:30am. The main gate is open, so you drive up to the pasture where your horses are boarded. You see the little crippled pony mare who lives outside your pasture. You also see the stallion that lives in the next pasture, when he isn't tearing down the fence to get out and breed random mares, and try to kill your gelding. Then you see something big. And black. And it's coming at your truck! Holy Mother!! Oh, it is a loose horse. You don't recognize it at all. Well.... isn't that special? (church lady) The biggest problem is that the horse is *very* friendly. So friendly in fact that you can't get out of the truck because it is sticking it's vaguely moose-like face in your window. Thank goodness the foundered pony mare thinks you are her property because she actually drives the moose...er horse away.

So you get out, unlock your gate, and hurry through with your feed buckets. Check your horses over for boo-boos and feed them. Go back out the gate and carefully lock it, making sure your fence charger is turned on to the "fry the sucker" position and run to your truck to put the feed buckets back before any of the loose equines can mug you for grain. Use your spotlight to see where the meandering intruder is so you don't get mowed down, and watch him wander around looking lost.

In the mean time, a truck has driven past the pasture and left through the open gate... someone going to work I suppose. Next you see the barn manager coming up from the direction of the house. About 100 yards away he slows down and finally stops because he sees that you are shining your bazillion candle power spot light on something... Oh he says to himself, it's a horse. So he sits there for a few seconds watching the horse. Then what do you suppose he does? What would you do?

Would you:

A: Sit and stare at the horse hoping it's a dream and you will wake up.

B: Get out and see if the horse belongs here and return it to it's pasture, and if it doesn't live here, put it someplace safe so it doesn't get hit by a car or worse.

C: Stop and ask your boarder to catch and put up loose horse because you are late for work.

D: Shrug and drive off, leaving the gate open because you just don't give a shit.

Now hazard a guess at what was actually done. If you selected option D, you were correct. Drive off and leave a loose black horse wandering around in the dark, because you really don't give a shit if it gets out and causes an accident, possibly killing whoever hit it. After all, there is someone there who pays for the privelege of boarding at your top notch facility... they can catch the horse, or close the gate right? It's not your problem, is it?

I really want to beat someone....

I got to the barn today, and something was not right. Susie was *cutting* Baxter. Every time he tried to go to the east side of the pasture, she cut him off and sent him back west. She was as good as any fancy high dollar cutting horse. I couldn't believe she could move like that at 25. I saw a big bunch of flies on Bax, so I figured it was just the flies and got the hay out.

As I was feeding, Susie kept acting all weird. Running at Baxter and ignoring her grub. Not normal. She was not running him off, but herding him. I saw some bot eggs on her, and decided that must be the problem. She hates them and is always freaky when there are any around. I finally had to lock Baxter up for him to get enough peace to eat! She finally ate half her grub after I locked him up.

Then I took the hay out and put it in the feeders. Then I got the fly spray and sprayed Baxter who was grateful. Susie on the other hand was weird. She kept running over to the place where Baxter was locked up. As I was spraying her I looked east, and saw the stallion who lives in the next pasture. I looked again, and he was not in his pasture, but in the stallion lane.

Now I understood why Susie was hysterical. She was trying to protect Baxter! Then I looked closer at Baxter. That damn stallion had gotten him by the throat *again*. He also had several bite marks that I had though Susie did, but now I know the stallion did it.

I called the barn manager (BM - get it??) and of course he wouldn't answer the phone. Left a message. Waited for about 30 minutes and then decided that Susie was way too upset for me to leave the stallion there in hopes that the BM would put him away. I caught him and put him back in his pasture, and Susie relaxed a little. She was still circling Baxter, and any time he even looked that way, she would get between him and block his view of the stallion. She was on high alert, and any noise from that direction had her right at Baxter's head, pushing him away. I checked inside my fence line and there were lots of skid marks where Susie had run between them.

Wrote a note and went to the house. The teenage kid that lives there with his mother said he would give the BM the note. I asked him to have the BM call me. I am not holding my breath. I don't look good in blue....

There is going to be hell to pay if Susie is not right tomorrow. This guy is the most irresponsible person that ever neglected a horse. He keeps these stallions in fencing that won't keep anything in, with mares all over the place. One colt died trying to breed mares over the fence - impaled on a t-post! I have already spent a fortune on fence, tape, chargers, and t-posts trying to keep everyone else's horses *out* of my pasture. To say that I am unhappy is the understatement of the year!

We will see what his solution is, cause if he can't fix the problem I will, and I will take it off my board bill.

Just got a call from the woman who helps out at the barn. Seems that the power is off at the pole, so the stallion who is a fence tester knows that he can just walk through the fence. They moved him up to the house where at least there is a more solid fence to contain him. Supposedly they have the power company coming out tomorrow to fix the problem. In the mean time, the hot tape that blocks off the stallion lane is coming down tomorrow. Usually when he gets out he immediately runs up to the house, but today he was blocked in by hot tape that is run off of my side. Next time he gets out, he can run loose and not be tempted to get into my pasture.

It is not the stallion's fault. He is just doing what stallions do. He lives alone. Nobody pays much attention to him, so he wants to go where he knows his mares are. I feel sorry for him, but I am not going to allow my horses to be hurt.

I have got to find a way to get all the obstacles to moving taken care of. This situation just gets worse and worse.

We are having a wobbler!

Our new baby Smudge is having a wobbler. If you have ever listened to Ozzy Osborne talk about his daughter Kelly, you know what a wobbler is. If not, I will explain. It's a fit.

One minute she is sitting there minding her own business, the next she is zooming back and forth through the living room. While she is running, she is snorting. She sounds like a little pig. Her "other" name is Oinky Doink. She is pretty darned fast for such a little thing. Once during a wobbler, she ran right into my shin, so hard it forced a squeek out of her! Little turd.

The wobbler is over, and now she is harrassing Monk. Poor Monk. He is so good with her. The worst thing he does is is snap at her. Ever seen a picture of a wolf snarling? That's pretty much Monk when he is tired of her. He looks vicious, but he never lays a tooth on her. Even when she is pinching his feet or hanging off his ears. He should be put up for sainthood! She is relentless, but he always wins in the end! It's MY toy and you can't have it you little turd!

There's a Light....

Over at the Frankenstein place...and her name is Smudge!

My first little light went out. Our beautiful Blondie, the sweetest dog we ever owned was gone. We really *really* missed having our little bulldog around. They are great dogs, full of life and personality. With Blondie gone, there was an enormous hole in our lives. Our Monkenstein was depressed and sad because he could not find his Grumpy Nanny. Everyone was moping around.

My DH told me that I should find a puppy, and it would be my anniversary present. He is such a great hubby. He actually had to give the ok to the vet to euthanize Blondie. I was pretty much hysterical, and we were actually pouring concrete when the vet called with the bad news. He took the phone and talked to them. He is a better man than I deserve sometimes.

So, I searched...and searched. Frenchie puppies are fairly rare, and awfully expensive when you do find one. I knew what I wanted in a pup. Not creme or fawn. This puppy was not going to be a replacement for Blondie, nor should she be compared to her. I did want a female, only because The Monkenmonster is a boy. It was very possible that he would really resent another male coming into what had become *his* home. So that left me with a black, piebald, or brindle female pup. That narrowed down the search, but also the pool of pups available. We also had a price limit, which further narrowed the pool of possible pupsters. After several days of fruitless searching - apparently they sell as soon as they are born, I saw an ad for a rescue puppy.

I can't tell you how many times I have filled out what is euphemistically referred to as an "adoption application" for a dog. I have, over the years, tried to adopt quite a few dogs, and nothing. Not even the courtesy of a reply to the application. I didn't have any expectation that this time would be different, but I thought what the hell, and filled it out. Then I forgot about it. The next day, we were up finishing up the lake house we were working on and my phone rang. I answered it and was shocked when the woman told me she was with the rescue. What? Then she told me that she had checked my references! Hello? Are you sure you have the right person?? Then she said... you are approved... **THUD** I wake up and the DH is patting my hand and calling my name! (not really, but it sounds good eh?) Huh? Me? Us? You are going to let us adopt a puppy? Who paid you to be so mean?

She said we had excellent references, and not only that, but we could pick from five puppies! WOOHOO!! We made arrangements to meet that evening. We arrived right on time, and the woman was very nice. She showed us all the puppies. Talk about treacle. Dear Lord, not one, but five! The only thing cuter than a baby frenchie is two...five is almost unberable! Thank doG we had already decided we wanted a female. There were four brindles and one piebald brindle. Only two of them were females. Thank goodness! Smudge was the biggest girl. The other girl was adorable, but she was so tiny. One thing we loved about Blondie was her size. There are two different sizes of frenchie - the smaller ones are around 20 pounds tops, and the larger ones closer to 30. We decided that we wanted the larger one. We signed all the papers, promised to have her spayed, plunked down a sizeable "rescue fee", and were happily on our way home with our new little light.

The rescue lady had given them all names for the vet check, and had named our little girl Chanda. Ugh! We promptly renamed her Smudge, because the DH said she looked like she had fallen down a chimney. Smudge is quite charming. If she had little fingers, everyone she meets would be wrapped around one of them. She knows just when to lay back her big ears and wiggle her little bottom. She is cuteness in a brindle jacket.

When we first brought her home, Monkleman thought she looked absolutely delicious! At a mere six pounds, she was just the right size for a delicious midnight snack, he thought. He was quite territorial, snarling and lunging at her any time he saw her! Oh NO! I was afraid that he might never come around, but one day I took her out in the back yard and put her down, staying close enough to snatch her up (or snatch him bald) should he decide to attack her. He came over and smelled her, and it seemed as if he decided to give up and accept her. Since that night, they have been pretty much glued together. We still watch them, because she has oodles and gobs of extra energy, and while he has become what I would call a saint, even a Monk has his limits. He is patience personified when she wants to play. He looks so resigned sometimes. She pulls his hair, and his ears, and bites his feet, and steals prized pig on a rope toy.

She is a micro terrorist. I have never seen anything move so fast, or for so long. In typical puppy fashion, she plays until she can't stand up, then falls down and sleeps wherever she is. She is pretty grumpy when you make her wake up to go outside and potty before bed, but she almost has the potty outside thing down! She will also mostly, come when you call her name. She already sits on command. She is a good puppy, even though she has developed an unnatural liking for feet, especially when they are wearing socks. Damn, her teeth are sharp!

One light burns out, and a new light burns brightly. Long Live the Smudge!!

RIP Blondie - Queen of the World March 2010

A bright light went out for us on Friday, March 19th. Our precious baby girl bulldog was humanely euthanized due to some very bad circumstances.

No one could ever have asked for a more loyal, funny, sweet companion. She was always good natured and happy.

All my dogs have touched my life in some way that made them special, but this little dog was my baby from the day she came running up to us in the park, skinny, covered with ticks, and an eye so crusty we were afraid we would have to have it removed. She never complained about any of the uncomfortable things she had to endure. She always came running with her ears flattened, a smile on her big wide face.

What happened to her was a sin. I have always believed that we owe our animal friends a dignified end. It is up to us to make that hard decision to end their suffering. It is the hardest thing we have to do for them, but we owe it to them. They cannot tell us with words when they are too tired, in too much pain, and need to rest. It is selfish to make them suffer simply because we lack the courage to make the tough decision. I have always erred on the side of dignity for my friends. I would rather let them go a day too soon than a day too late.

This time, I depended on a veterinarian who was ego driven, and apparently believed that she could cure the world. My poor little girl. She had to suffer because the vet I trusted either didn't care, or was too busy, or just made a poor decision. In the end, she was released from suffering, but not soon enough. It hurts my heart to know her end was not dignified, but painful.

We gave her the best life we could. She was a good dog. She deserved better from the professionals whose job it is to heal and ease suffering.

Rest in Peace my pretty girl. I shall miss you greatly.

You know...

I have been thinking (you smell smoke, right?), and I just wanted to add (re: the post about the hypocrite and the amber) that perhaps if they knew as much as they think they do, they would be grateful for all the years I spent defending them against all the folks who told me that said person was an arrogant, pompous ass. They might also like to know all the effort we went to regarding getting them recognized for all their service to the hobby.There are volumes more that they don't know, but it would be a supreme waste of a sunny day to post it all today.

I suppose I should have listened to all those folks who told me time and again that I was wasting my time, and would eventually get a knife in the back. I do sometimes exhibit a woeful lack of judgement when choosing friends. Ah well, live and learn. There. I feel better.

Water...water *everywhere*

I will be the first to admit that I am nosey. When we are working on a project, I look around. I want to see what the house looks like inside. Sometimes we are lucky and the project manager will actually give us a tour. Those are the best. Other times, we only get to look in the window, or sneak a peek when other trades are working.

We are currently working on a lake house for a guy who is very particular. He wants things done the way he wants them done, and is kind of hard to deal with unless you just stand toe to toe with him and bash away. Once you have done that, he is your friend and things go pretty smoothly. If you don't join in the bash fest, you are lost, and nothing is easy. All this is leading up to what being nosy led me to find...

We drove to the job to cut the concrete we had poured the day before. I do not like to be around when he saws a slab because it is noisy and dusty and icky. I had seen a bald eagle the day before and went to the back of the house, number one to escape the ick, and number two to see if the eagle was there again. No dice. So...here is where the nosy part comes in. I wanted to check and see if anything had been done with the pool. Nope, still the same. Then I noticed that the strand board they had placed to protect the pool deck was wet *under* the covered patio. Hmmm I thought. I looked along the board, and the water led right to the back door. So, I went to the door and looked in. Holy Mother! It was a miracle! It was raining *inside* this almost finished million + dollar home!!! Water, water EVERYWHERE! I thought, shit, that really sucks. Then I thought, thank goodness this wasn't our work, 'cause someone was in really BIG trouble.

I got on the phone and called the builder and delivered the bad news. He sounded so resigned. I felt sorry for him. He asked if we could turn off the water, and I told him that we had our personal truck, so we didn't have any tools. He said he would call security and thanked me for letting him know. A few minutes later, he called me back and asked if any of the doors were unlocked. Now, I will look through a window, or step in if someone else is working, but I am not *that* nosy. I don't go inside someone elses' house! I told him I would check and found one door out of about 11 that was unlocked. He walked me though turning off the water from inside the house. We checked, and water was still pouring out of the ceiling. Then he asked if we would use the shop vac's there to suck up what water we could. We did what we could, but it was still raining, and we had to drive back to Tulsa - over an hour away. We ended up putting the shop vac's under the worst leaks and leaving.

There is no telling how much damage was done. The visible stuff was bad enough. The walls had big oozing tracts of water behind the knock down treatment, all the woodwork kept oozing as we were vacuuming, water in the electrical boxes in the floors, and the ceiling...well.... scary that was. We heard later that over 400 gallons of water had been pumped out of a humidifier system that was damaged by some heat tapes. Fortunately, it was limited to about 1/3 of the house from what we could tell. The owners were planning on moving furniture in this week. Not happening now unfortunately. They must be *very* upset. I know I would be, and have actually experienced the same thing with our office. We were almost ready to move in and I drove up one morning to find water pouring out from under the walls! Ugh. Fortunately our office is a tilt up concrete building, so no real harm done other than not being able to move in as fast.

The thing I find most interesting is that nobody can understand why we won't give them a bill for turning off the water and vacuuming up what we could. I happen to believe in Karma. I know how I would feel if it were my house. We did it because it was the right thing to do, not in hopes of a reward. There is absolutely no way that I could have just walked away after seeing what was happening. That would be so wrong. It is actually pure luck that I went along for the ride that day, because if I hadn't, that water would most likely have run all weekend. When Bill goes to a job to cut a slab, he doesn't mess around at all. He cuts it and leaves. He would not have gone searching for the eagle, or looking in the pool, nor would he have noticed the wet strand board, because, he just isn't nosy like me :)

Sadly, it won't end there. Now there will be legal stuff, and firings and lawsuits. I can only imagine how disappointed the owners are. It is a beautiful house with, I am sure, years of thoughtful planning and happy anticipation. I can feel their pain. Fortunately (I'd think) it happened before they moved all their belongings in, and the damage can be repaired. I am exceedingly glad that I am just a stupid concrete finisher, and not involved in the finer points of interiors! I do not envy anyone involved in what went wrong. I am sure that the owner is not going to go easy on any of them.

Oh really...Really??

I have gotten a few "letters" (real letters, raggedy notes, emails, bricks with stuff painted on them) from people who for one reason or another, had a problem with me. Some of them were well deserved, and some were not. I am sure everyone has gotten at least one. So, you can color me unsurprised - it's a shade of jaded - when I got one recently. Now usually, being the hotheaded person that I am, I will fire right back, but this one, for some reason just made me feel a great deal of pity, and some surprised amusement.

Let me give you some background. My DH and I are fixing up our house so that we can move out of what has really become a war zone. It was a nice neighborhood when we moved in 23+ years ago, but has become a really bad place (TM), with over 12 murders and a few other assorted deaths in just the last 2 years, all within a mile of our home. So during the process of throwing away a huge accumulation of stuff, we found things we no longer needed, from a hobby we used to be involved in. I posted about the things on a newsgroup for the hobby, and put up the previous 2 pages of pictures of some of the amber and opals I was selling...

I got several emails asking about stuff, and a few people bought some things. Great! Then I got an email from someone who I had thought was a friend. The first email was nice enough, asking about some things we had for sale, and saying how nice it would be to get together and remember the good old times, and how they wished we would reconsider not coming back to the hobby, blah blah blah. It was an email that appeared to be from a concerned friend who would like to see us participate again! Unfortunately, when we quit the hobby, it was not under fun circumstances, and I have since decided that it was a total waste of time after looking back while totally uninvolved in it. I was pretty bitter about how my DH was treated, and had no desire to talk about something that could still make me pretty angry. So, I wrote back, explaining plainly why I didn't want to talk about it to them, or anyone else. I didn't hear back, for about a week, so I figured they had changed their mind about buying anything... Ok. No problem.

Then, I got pretty damn sick. I had an abscessed tooth, and was in total misery. I was in bed for several days. During that time, they wrote back and said ok we won't talk, but I would like to come see the stuff. Being as how I was sick, well, I hadn't even sat at the computer for a while. When I did get back to it, I read the email and was trying to figure out a time that I could meet them. Our work schedule changes every day, so it's kind of hard to make a date and time that is firm, and I hate to inconvenience people. Everyone is busy. I had finally figured out when would be good, and intended to email back when I got home, only to find... da da da... The email.

Now mind you, I am a pretty blunt person. I say what I mean. Sometimes it is not too pretty, but I am not about to sugar coat things for anyone. I am also not going to be offensive, unless you really just ask for it. I was very blunt in the email I sent, explaining why I didn't want to talk about "the good times". I laid it all out in black and white, so there was no wiggle room. I guess that my blunt email must have offended this person. A LOT. My goodness. Here was a steaming pile of vitriol that might have made anyone who is not a fairy princess concrete finisher cry. It contained this person's perspective of the stuff I had so bluntly written about in my email. The more I read, the more I snorted. I completely understand that perspective is everything, and yours is going to differ from mine, perhaps greatly. That's fine. I get it. I don't expect everyone to see things my way. I do however believe that in any given situation, the only people who know what went on are the people who were there. In the situations that were being discussed, this person was mostly not there, yet just knew that they knew the facts. The longer the email went on, the more amusing their "facts" were. The single most amusing thing was they thought I had committed some heinous act against their spouse. Of course, the act itself was not named, so I have really no clue what it might have been. I do remember very vividly things being the other way around, with said spouse being the culprit in a situation. I won't go into any detail, other than to say that I was there, and they were not. Two people know what happened :)

At any rate, this Paragon of Virtue proceeded to pretty much do their best to be spiteful, mean, and just downright nasty. I was sort of surprised at just how vicious the email was. I am not big into personal attacks. It's really just a waste of time. Telling someone that they are pretty much white trash just isn't my style, and I didn't think it was theirs either, but apparently I was wrong. According to them, I am scum. The main thing that amused me so much is that over all the years we participated in the hobby, this person was just as sweet as pie to me. People who know me well know that I am not nice to people that I don't like. I am not mean, but I do not have time to speak to people who I do not like. I do not hang out with them. I will be polite, but I don't enter into conversations, or eat dinner with them, or any of the other things that friends do. They had treated me the way I treat my friends. So I was asking myself, just how long had this person I thought was my friend hated my guts? How long had this stew of meanness been brewing?

How can someone be such a hypocrite? Why would they even write the first email, asking to get together and remember all the good old times? It was obvious to me that I had things for sale that they wanted. Fine, their money is as green as anyone's. I don't care if someone likes me or not. If they want something I have for sale, they can buy it. It's all good and the world will still revolve in the morning. There is no need to try to be nice, it's business. In fact I sold some stuff to a person who has never liked me and also never kept that fact a secret. Nobody died.... The funniest thing in the whole email was being told that they didn't want my amber. I could keep it and be buried in it for all they cared. I really hate to burst their little bubble of venom, but I would be happy to be buried in it. I am not desperate to sell any of it, I'd just rather not move it if I can get rid of it. I guess that was supposed to upset me, perhaps make me cry. The only thing it did do was make me question my judgment when selecting friends.

I really just pity them. To think that they have been carrying this hatred around for all these years. It hasn't hurt me one iota, but they have been seething inside a for a long time apparently. How sad. I hope that at least they feel better for finally getting it all out. If their intent was to hurt me, it was a big fat FAIL. I stopped caring what people think about me a long time ago, so while I am grateful to finally know the person's true feelings about me, I am certainly not hurt by it.

Life goes on... I found another huge stash of amber to sell. Maybe I should email back and see if they want pics, you think?

Andamooka, Yowah and Koroit opals

Ok, the pics suck, but here they are. If you want more pics, I will do my best, but obviously opal pics are not my speciality LOL!

Baltic Amber for sale

This is the baltic amber that I have for sale. I will be happy to answer any questions, or take different pictures if you need them. You can contact me at sigen3@aol.com