Monday, June 30, 2008
Here's where we are! Isn't it beautiful? La Hacienda is just wonderful. There is supposed to be bunches of firemen here, but I only see one. Really, we have no fire-camp near us. Just some haze from the very distant fire and that actually has cooled the weather down. The place is empty as usual and is so quiet all you hear the the birds and there's deer everywhere. The place even serves us breakfast here. Wow! I've decided that Tressa (the ancient one) Tressa, I mean you're an old soul, not physically old--you know what that would turn me into? Tressa needs to come stay here. It would be like staying at Rancho Cumulos with cable, Internet, showers, and cowboy rustic rooms. This place is so me--I could just go out shooting coyotes. (Never mind, the base wouldn't like that.) OOPS! The commander just returned, glad we weren't wondering around in his residence, he now lives in the gold dome. But, there are 4 more tower rooms. Yay, I love this place. I wonder what's in the basement. Your dad said, "Pee Wee Herman's bicycle." Actually, we thought of that at the same time.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Oh no, another horse was down. Night before last, Sonny was acting a bit weird. He was stuck under the heavy metal fence-not rolling; but he used to do that when he was a colt. Kiely called her vet office and the doctor came and thought he was all fixed. He was not drinking enough water and was very dehydrated.
We are having unusually hot temperatures here and horses everywhere are suffering from colic. My dear Steve found Sonny a bit wobbly this morning and took him to the vet for another "big" treatment this time. Steve caught it in time. My Kiely was already called in on her off-day for surgery on a big warm-blood with colic. All the stalls and corrals are full...all colic! I never thought I would be praying for poop.
This is so incredibly hard for me and I've cried all day. All my daughter's have been so supportive and my mother, who doesn't really like all the horses, she says, offered to pay for everything. Everyone in our family has been so good to us and we are scared. Marnie, even played mommy to Sonny this morning and honestly--I saw a tenderness that just brought tears.
I know Sonny isn't a person, but horses have been apart of my whole life. This is the point when I'm turning all of it over to the Lord. I just feel so sad. The picture of Kiely is on Sonny's "dred-locks". He's a Bashkir Curly and looks like a small Arabian, only fluffy. Waiting...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
I'm not sure posting a blog with me just taking Vicodin, is a real good idea. But, I just wanted to let everyone know how thankful I am for rooster heads. Actually, I think their whole body is very pretty, peacocks, and those funny New Guinea's Birds of Paradise, that really tap dance. I'm so grateful for God's creation of all birds, beautiful in so many ways. I never thought I would have my Doctor inject my knees with "Rooster Combs" (Synvisc). I had people tell me it was cadaver parts, so I waited until it was done to ask about it. Yep, it's rooster combs. Who thinks of this stuff?? It really works. Not with just the Vicodin, but I really, really and can tell a difference. If the three injections work and no knee replacement-I'm just so grateful! I think I'll go out today and pick-up my lone Rock Lobster, no Plymouth Rock Chicken, and give her a big smooch on her chicken lips. The lone old chicken, no name, just chicken, eats mice and attacks us. So, if you see me tomorrow with chicken bites all over my face...(That phase was hard to write, I could of said something really bizarre there) Anyway, just my thought of showing that I truly love chickens. Maybe I'll just hug her.
Monday, June 16, 2008
This sweet picture of Larin's goat doesn't even show her tail, she showed her tail to me quite a bit, I chased her more than any goat ever and there have been maybe now, over 500 goats that have lived on this farm. This goat was absolutely unforgettable! She knew how to talk, she knew how to play, she knew Larin, Kiely, Steve, and I, so well that she knew how to "get-our-goat." I think that's where the phase came from. Daphne was (I'm sure she's gone now--lived a very long life) and was absolutely the most mischievous goat in America. I don't know how the Greek or Spanish goats are--but for here, she gave the La Mancha breed their bad reputation. She was into, on top of, inside of, underneath, stuck, caught, bit, jumped, ate, ran away, demolished, and kicked everything! Now, don't get me wrong. She loved us and let us groom her, milk her, love her. She loved being shaved, her hooves clipped and shined, hugs and kisses, and she loved to be milked. She was the ultimate in high maintenance! Daphne loved to get in the car constantly because she wanted to be bred. We didn't have a buck then. Visitors would say to us, "Why did that goat jump in my car?" We would politely say she wanted to go get bred. They would ask, "Does need to get BREAD that much? She must really like it!" and we would laugh and say, "Yes,if you only knew," with a snicker. "¡Ay, ay, ay...!"
Back to the tails...Her tail would wag at the slightest mention of a rose. She should have been named Rosa. I learned after many, many months that all I needed to do to catch her was pick a rose and say, "Daphne! Rose!" She'd follow me anywhere.
Daphne knew how to open the door at our kitchen, and Dustin's room was right there, door open. Beautifully clean, bed made. And I found her jumping on the water-bed like a Brahma Bull, watching herself in the mirrored, bookcase headboard. Honestly, my son didn't believe me when I told him and her tracks were still all over his bed. What does a goat think about when they're jumping on a bed? Whoa! "No tan de prisa..Soy Daphne, el gran que pisa fuerte el anillo. Soy uno que es valiente y muy feroz a los hombres. Puedo alancear todos que se atrevan para lastimar a mis amigos preciosos con mis cuernos largos, agudos. ¡Soy valiente, soy un toro, y conseguiré los vaqueros y los caballos malos! ¡Pise fuerte! ¡Pise fuerte! ¡Pise fuerte! ¡Bravo!" She was Spanish, you know. But, to set the record straight, she wasn't a bull and she didn't have horns. She pretended.
This sweet goat liked to use her imagination so much that she sometimes pretended she was a human and walked around like shown in my picture. Udder right out there "Does Gone Wild." I tried to blur that part for you.
At the fair, Daphne even showed her enthusiasm for fair. She thought in Spanish...Fair is not fair, so I'm letting everyone free. Everyone meaning every goat in the barn. Yelling, "¡Esto no esta bien! ¡Esto es terrible! ¡Esto no es realmente JUSTO nosotros debe estar libre!" Most other goats only knew French, Swiss, or English--but they did know an open gate and free food! Daphne didn't want, "Es demasiada dificultad. Lo siento tan." So, she quietly tip-toed and returned to her pen, of course, closing the gate behind her. Then, looking about she would say, "¿Qué? She learned that from her owner, Larin, but of course, she would say that in Spanish. I knew that word even in Spanish. Yeeeeaaahhh! We have muy witnesses! Daphne didn't get spanked, just dogged, I couldn't never slap her sweet rear where there were large dots in the shape of Mickey Mouse. She would gesture with a tear in her eye, because she knew she disappointed us, was it? Did she say? "La sienta tan muy."
Daphne retired in Mexico, not too far away, at a large rancho near Rosarita Beach and yes, roses, everywhere. Perfect place and sweet new owners. The new owners would call me year after year to tell me she had many beautiful sons. I know she was very happy, and finally everyone spoke to her in the right language and she never got in trouble and she lived a very fulfilled life, free.
We miss our funny friend. We actually have a new one, just like Daphne. She came into this world, "muy loco" and her name is Miracle. So, we all continue with our goat tails.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Have you thought that a blog was similar to a Christmas letter that you get from your friends? All good and nothing really bad, stupid, or even real? It seems a lot of ones I read, seem like everything in their life is perfect. I would like to set the record straight. NOTHING is perfect! I don't really like reading other people's problems, mainly because I worry about them. But it's okay...I like someone to pray for or help. I like knowing that I'm not the only one that has money issues, fears, fat, or even if they are mad at someone or something, or even that they are just plain having a bad day. Not good to put details of any of that on a blog. Like...who your mad at...'cuz it just might and usually is, just a misunderstanding and we get over that stuff fast--blog is there forever. It's read by a lot of people and sometimes their thoughts affect... well you know, they could easily NOT forget it. BTW I'm not mad, unhappy, fearful, etc.--just thinking about journaling, or writing our family history. It SHOULD contain trials and point the way of getting through our exasperating experiences. This is part of the reason we keep a record. I wrote down ever phase of my pregnancies because I wanted to change the bad choices to how I could improve to make them better. Loose ligaments, walking, starting labor, all of that was a great relief about, during, and after each pregnancy. Interesting how we forget what Braxton-Hicks feels like or how after pains get worse with each baby. Those both are uncomfortable subjects to write down, but for me, having five miscarriages, I needed to know every detail and you know what? It saved me from crazy.
I love to read my family's blogs. Sweet and straight to the point. I know they have courage. Courage is something that you fear, but go ahead and do anyway. Like moving to Arkansas, changing jobs,shaving your head for a school fund-raising event, building a house that is almost an impossible task, or thinking about another job. Where will our life be in 2 years? Where will I find the cowboy of my dreams? (we know who that is) We all have those things swimming around in our heads and I promise, Marnie, your donkey/goat problem will soon be fixed! I love you all and your blogs...it makes us close. I love it and look at my babies everyday. Mom and Grandma
Monday, June 2, 2008
I bore my testimony. Not so strange, actually, except not one of my family members were there. Not one. I think Abby and Holly came later. I really felt weird, I looked around and couldn't find anyone, but I was comfortable and felt okay about it. The reason I mention it is that I haven't been alone, that is without my family at church, since 1972. I don't know why I bore my testimony. I found myself at the podium without remembering even walking up there. I wasn't taking any pain meds (thank you very much my children) I read a scripture and had a compass in my pocket and it reminded me of my scriptures being my compass. I know I said that because when I looked at the compass I gasped slightly because I thought it was pink or red and it surprised me to see it was bright yellow. Do you ever wonder if you made sense when you are up there? I sorta' floated up there and floated down, and I know I didn't speak long and wasn't nervous at all, not at all! What happened? No heart pounding decision, what?