Hello from the Land of 10,000 Water Bottles

And travel mugs.

Today's "Mouse Trap" adventure started with simply washing the 10 water bottles, sippy cups and travel mugs sitting on the side of the sink.

Because it is through that one must have an appropriate certificate or degree, perhaps, to property cleanse them.

I guess.  Otherwise why else do they just sit there and not get washed?  There is an adjunct degree which allows you to put them away once clean, as well, and, altho I do not recall receiving such schooling, here I am.  Up to my armpits in wash water with small bottle brushes and lots of vinegar and even some household cleanser trying to get them free from spots and coffee...

Then they are thoroughly rinsed in the hottest of water -- so hot, in fact, that my mother would call it hot water.

Up-ended onto the towel on the counter for a few minutes to drip and then the "find the homes for all these NEW items (even tho I just cleaned out the cupboards 6 weeks ago and divested us of all but 2 or 3 travel mugs and 2 or 3 water bottles), including the tops and the straws and the remote controls and all of the accessories you never knew you needed in an uber portable-drinking device.

I have all but one stowed into the cupboard when, out of nowhere, the large male cat who resides here decides that today is the day:  he's a shoulder-cat.  He launches from the cupboard to my shoulder.  I dodge appropriately because that's 4 sets of very sharp claws coming at my shoulder/back when I miss the cupboard with the water bottle in my hand and it tumbles to the counter.

Completely taking out my Diet Coke.

Which is a travesty unto itself.

However...it isn't that simple -- oh the Diet Coke tipped over and spilled on the floor.

Oh no.

The Diet Coke TOP was on.  But not COMPLETELY ON.  Envision it -- it begins to spin and spit on the floor, spraying TO THE CEILING a fine mist of Diet Coke.  The cat loses his fucking mind and heads off for the hills, knocking over the 4 coffee cups (with dregs of coffee in them) on the other counter.  I'm trying to throw myself ON the Diet Coke (and while it wasn't throwing myself on a grenade, it still felt mildly heroic) when I think "Oh shit, my computer is on the counter with that coffee" and I rise up to see the coffee inching nearer and nearer my computer.

I grab for the computer, knocking the Miralax all over the place -- the cap had been left off when  I was attempting to condense two bottles to one (and developed an ADD cleaning moment, walking away from that task to perhaps look blankly at all the dishes to be washed in the sink) -- and now there's a fine, but hardening, layer of sugar-free polyethylene glycol forming all over the counter, the floor, the dishwasher.

Cue the cat, who is now on a tear for no apparent reason and who comes bolting through the Diet Coke/Coffee/Miralax slurry.  The priority immediately shifts to catching the cat so he doesn't take it EVERYWHERE with him.

This is FUN GAME for cat, and he doesn't lose me completely but toys with me by running up the cat tree, across the comfy chair, down the length of one leather couch and then, vaulting the baby gate, turns and heads down the foyer.  BUSTED cat -- I dart back through the kitchen, intercept him, and immerse him in the dishwater in the sink.

Now we're just sitting.  The small child, who was sequestered in a high chair through all of this (which is totally unbelievable because think of the dimension of fun that would have added), is coated in macaroni and cheese, I have the cat wrapped up like a feline burrito, and it's time to move on to the next adventure.  I'm thinking of weeding a garden, but first, I want to order a Life Alert necklace.

And for those of you who say "she makes this shit up!" stop on by.  Any time.  I got married when it was 40 below ACTUAL.  There was no heat in the church.  We had 3 running cars between the two families.  I was prevented from moving into this house by a SNIPER.  I've had horses in my basement.  I don't need a sense of creativity because I don't need to make this stuff up.

If there's one thing that I DO know, it's that God is present in my life.  He gives me challenge.  Perhaps to slow me down, perhaps to give me some humility (I'm OCD crossed with Type A, and that, despite my best efforts, and a fact which makes my skin crawl like fingernails on a blackboard, doesn't spell anything).

So I hope you'll subscribe to my blog:  maybe you're here for the first time, maybe for the last.  But for me, it's time to get this done.

Barn cat 0, Pheasant 1

Today I saw a pheasant running pell-mell to pasture from the barn. I looked and saw one very diminutive cat preening and grooming...I think she caught it but didn't kill it "enough" and it got away when she got it back to the barn. Imagine a cat, not as big as your two hands, pulling down a full-sized pheasant...it must have carried HER to the barn.

Our first barn kitties, Olive (the mouth) and her sister Minnie, were brought here by our friend Tiff when they were days old. Their mother Tigger was never particularly possessive of them and those kittens rode in the hood of my sweatshirt even before their eyes were open. They were born the same day Casey was, and I was very maternal about them. Three years ago Minnie walked away on her final hunt. Olive developed a tilty-head that year -- inner ear, probably. She did well, following me from pasture to barn and often rode in my lap on the tractor. She talked incessantly and was my constant companion. It nearly killed me to have to put her down after a hard winter this year. She lived in the lap of luxury the last few months but she was down to bones and had lost her vive. I miss her terribly.

About 18 months ago, we picked out new barn kitties from a hoarder. They were tiny little things but already 8 months old. We let them live in the house for the first winter as they WERE so little, and because we wanted them to love us and not leave. Punky, the little black and white, has a weird eye and she mostly just keeps it closed. It functions and is healthy, she just apparently likes to look like Popeye. Her sister Bella is a grey and peach calico type cat. She's a hump-back -- she has scoliosis or something because she walks more like a bunny hops. Despite their physical imperfections, they are deceptively quick and strong. While Olive and Minnie were Mohammed Ali and George Forman, Bella and Punky are Bruce Lee and Sugar Ray. They love to show me how many mice, moles and other rodent-type animals, as well as birds, they can bring down in a day. They, like their predecessors, are very careful to leave them right where you will be sure to step in them as you walk through a darkened barn doorway or as you descend the back deck steps.

Ever slip on fetal mice?

Punky has taken over the role of "The Mouth" and she sat atop a stall tonight and talked to me. She was telling me PLENTY and it made me miss My Sweet Olive a whole lot.

Rest in peace, wonderful kitty. Know that your pawprints will never been filled, but your territory is being well tended to.

Dads: Useful guys. Not so heinous in hindsight.

If there's ever one thing I'm truly appreciative of my dad for is the fact that he made me self-sufficient.

I can fillet a fish.

I can paint a house.

I can mow the heck out of a lawn.

I'm not afraid of a chainsaw.

And most certainly, I can change a tire in record time. In record temps.

7 minutes flat. I timed myself. New tires are being installed on the G20 at this moment. They were shit when we got the car, now they're history. (OK the fact that that thing has only 4 lugs helped. But the fact that jacks now-a-days suck because they disassemble as you are cranking them...)

Yes. I remember being pissed off on certain Saturday mornings when I had to clean the basement, scrub the garage floor and rotate the tires...but on a morning like this, I'm grateful.

Thanks Dad.

Eulogy from my Sister

Here's my sister Jackie's eulogy. She did a wonderful job. Parenthesis show what she wrote but didn't say in church -- she should have. It was perfect. Thanks, Jack. You really captured him.

These are the things we learned from our dad:

Study your catechism.

Go to confession.

Obey the 10 commandments -- with the exception of one. He wanted the wording in "Honor thy Father" to be changed to "DOTE on thy father."

We have learned to be honest.

Be Kind.

Be Rowdy.

Have fun, get wild.

Be a good neighbor, be a good friend.

Stand up for what you believe, eve when it makes you unpopular.

And every now and then its is okay to say and do outrageous things, in fact EVERY DAY it is okay to do and say outrageous things.

Be stubborn.

Be fair.

And when life deals you a disability, pick up the pieces and go on.

Read.

Read again.

Learn.

Learn more.

Give -- give to your family, give to your friends, give to your neighbors, and give to your church.

Pray OUT LOUD. Pray out loud at church, pray out loud in the doctor's office, on the urologist's table, in the waiting area of a restaurant, in the lobby of your apartment - just PRAY!

And we have learned that is is not important what you say, rather it is more important what you do.

(And it certainly IS okay to pinch a good looking woman on the butt.)

We have learned to persevere in times of hardship.

Have principles.

And, above all things, put your family first.

My sisters and brother and I Have learned those things from our dad. These are the things that Dad has embedded in our souls and that no one can take away from us. These are the things hat made up the fabric of my dad's existence and that now make up the fabric of OUR existence. These are the things we hope that all of the grandchildren, the great grandchildren, and the nieces and nephews will learn.

These are the things we learned from our dad.

A few of my favorite things

Chip and I laid in my bed watching TV one night. The girls were elsewise occupied, and I can't remember where Joe was, but he and I were all snuggled in the new bed.

A commercial came on for super smoothing shaving gel.

"Yup. That's what I need. You gotta get some of that for me," he stated.

I was perplexed, so I said "OK. But you won't be shaving for a few years yet, probably pretty close to 5 or 6 years from now."

He sat up on one elbow and looked at me and said "Oh, no, I shave now!"

I traced my finger over his chin and asked "Why? You have no stubble..."

He whipped a leg out from under the covers, shoved it skyward and said "I just cannot STAND the feeling of hair on my legs!"

Passing the Torch-A new era

Casey and Tarj after their ride

Casey and Tarj in the practice arena

Casey and Tarj just waiting for his hooves to dry

Casey getting Tarj all prettied up.

For years, my little bay gelding and I have competed for the chance to ride at the Fall Championship Show. And we've been there, repeatedly. He busts a gut to run hard -- he's my partner, my friend, my love.

And now, he carries my daughter. And whats more, he cares for her. He makes sure she doesn't get hurt, that she has fun, and that she knows he loves her.

So when she qualified for Champ Show, we didn't tell her we were gonna send her. We told her that we weren't sure, that finances were tight...and so when we were watching High School Rodeo at the State Fair, she remarked that it seemed that there was very little room after timer (in the Coliseum) to get the horse stopped. I told her "well you better watch and figure it out...you're gonna have to do that in a few weeks." I might as well have told her she was gonna be Homecoming Queen. Her eyes went starry and she leapt up and was so excited.

The big day came. We loaded up the truck and went to the Fairgrounds. We decided to leave Tarj home til the day she was going to ride as he gets an upset tummy being in that noisy barn. So we unloaded all our stuff and padlocked into the stall.

By mid-day I realized she wasn't gonna want to leave when I wanted to, so I reasoned that she needed a shower before she competed. She was so dejected -- she didn't want to miss any of the experience. That's when it dawned on me: part of the Champ Show experience is LIVING there. So I told her we'd shower her there. They have a (nice?) shower facility and we found a place that had shampoo and conditioner samples. Well by the time we got to their booth, only conditioner samples were left, so we bought some tea-tree shampoo (for horses) and picked up a condition (DOG CONDITIONER!) and grabbed the ShamWow out of the tack trunk. We rinsed it out and wrung it out, then waved it around in the sun for a half hour or so.

We got her into the shower and lathered her up. Got her squeaky clean, and then dried her with the ShamWow. It was hilarious -- this cloth was only 12" wide by about 24" long. Worked great!

So we got to stay later, we stopped on the way home for KFC, and got home to sleep.

The next morning we were up early, loaded Tarj in the trailer and got him to the fairgrounds. He wasn't thrilled about going into the stall but he did. Casey and I went to watch an event and I explained the holding pen system to her and showed her how to get up the ramp into the Coliseum.

We then went back to pretty Tarj up. We put blue glitter on his hooves and haunches, in his mane and in his tail. He loves this attention so he stood half asleep with a little cud of hay in his mouth, lazily chewing with his eyes mostly closed...

Joe, Hannah and Chip showed up about the time she needed to saddle up and get ready. There were over 100 kids in her class -- I knew she had no chance of placing, but she kept saying "When I place, I'm gonna give you and Dad the money I win!" I let keep that dream.

Tarj carried her calmly into the Coliseum and waited patiently for his turn. I walked beside them and when she said she was ready, I turned them loose. It was a major thing for me...I've seen her show before but this was a new day. I felt like I not only lost something but gained something as well -- my baby rode away that day and my fellow horsewoman rode back to me.

She knocked the last pole but her smile was as wide as the sky. Dan Dolan, the voice behind the mike for WSCA said "She tips a pole but DID SHE HAVE A GREAT TIME!!!!"

We loaded up and headed out soon after that. A storm was brewing but we stopped for dinner anyway. Tarj was loose in the trailer and eating. The family headed into the restaurant and I stood with him for a minute. He put his head out to me and I whispered a "thank you" as I kissed him.

A cold fall morning

The horses are starting to feel the effects of the cold and rain, so we've been keeping them in the barn for periods of time to fuel up with hay and grain, and to let them dry off. Tarj, my 23-year-old, usually hates being in the barn. To him, it means a loss of control over his subjects. The other morning it was POURING so I decided I would drag him in for his grain then trap him in to eat hay.

He walked right in, no prompting. He was cold and wanting a break from the elements.

Last night we kept them in. Fresh shavings, water, grain and hay, and then tucked them in. This morning they were anxious to see me for more grain, but didn't act like they were mental to get out of the barn.

Til I let them out. The dew was heavy on the pasture, the alleyways and paddock were slick with mud, and it was cold. They walked out of the barn, flatfooted...I noted for the first time how much winter fur has come on and I was happy to see it. We've also been blanketing the two older guys, JB and Tarj, at night on occasion due to the cold. Now that we have round bales for them to munch on all night, we haven't blanketed them in hopes their coats will fill out.

Well the easy walk soon turned into raucous, hoof-flashing, full-out running. Calvin stayed back while Tarj, Simon and JB (! -- for the first time, he's playing!) raced out to pasture and reared, bucked, kicked and farted. Watching them run and play is much like watching a acid-induced ballet -- they move so gracefully but frenetically. Their energy is so pent-up and then it just explodes.

Finally Calvin made his move. He raced, head level, down and charging, into the herd. It was like shooting your favorite marble into the grouping -- they scatter: one popping up before it takes off, one scooting off at high velocity, another seemingly "stunned" by the impact. Then more rearing, and then they move off at a gallop, legs moving in unison, like a well-choreographed dance.

Thundering hooves, snorting and neighing carry loudly across the water-laden scene. I stood transfixed in the slowly warming backyard, loving the feel of the sunrise on my face. I took another sip from my coffee, then turned, dog at my heels, to start my day.