Steps 2 and 3

Well, the vet is coming tomorrow to pull blood and maybe do a fecal. If she thinks Dee isn't sick or anything we're also gonna do spring shots. The dentist is going to come up April 2nd. While I'm not looking forward to all the bills about to head my way, I just want to get this sorted out... cover all my bases.

Step 1

I'm implementing operation "Get Dee Fat". Step 1? Powerpac. Do I think she's wormy? Not particularly. However, it can't hurt and you never know, so she started her power pac today. I've got calls in to the vet and the dentist, too. Those are the next steps. I want to get her teeth done and some bloodwork. Plus, she needs her spring shots, so I may as well have those done while I get her blood looked at.
Also, I feel the need to share this story, because it was really creepy. I know we all like to think our animals can understand us even though everyone says it's just intonation. Well, I was just talking to Dee while I groomed her today and asked her a question (just because I do things like that...). Well... she nodded at me. So I said, "Did you understand me?" SHE NODDED AGAIN. A little weirded out, I waited a little bit and then asked her, "Dee, do you understand english?" SHE NODDED AGAIN. My mother suggested that if I ever want to say something negative about her, I'd better learn another language. I love my little mare!

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return...

I think that Dee is beginning to love me, and I'm very happy about this. The last few days, she has been very snuggly. I mean, she still protests about the curry comb, but she's not as nasty about it anymore. Yesterday, she even let me give her a great big bear hug... HUGE progress!
That said, I'm anxiously awaiting a return call from the dentist, because I think she is in dire need of some mouth attention. She's a slow eater. Painfully slow. She takes about a million years to finish her grain and every other bite is followed by a huge gulp of water. Pellets fall out while she eats. Add all that to the fact that despite a good quality grain, rice bran, APF and now Mushroom Matrix, she STILL appears to be LOSING weight, and I think we've got a tooth issue. I can't think of another explanation. She's getting enough calories and nutrients in her grain and hay to feed a horse twice her size, but she looks terrible. She's been wormed and is on a daily wormer. She shows no signs of being ill... coat looks great, she's bright and chipper, no obvious signs of distress and seemingly no abnormalities. I just can't think of any explanation beyond her teeth. Unless it's ulcers. I mean, she had been INCREDIBLY sensitive when I curry her belly lately (more so than usual). I actually thought she might have some sort of cut or scrape under there today because she was SO reactive. However, running my hands all over her belly and putting pressure on it didn't reveal any cuts and didn't provoke ANY reaction... she could care less that I was poking and prodding her, but the curry comb? HATED IT. Now, she'll usually make snarky faces at me while I curry her belly, but today she was kicking at me and backing away from me like I was hurting her. I actually stopped grooming her because she seemed so uncomfortable. However, other than that, she really doesn't strike me as being ulcery. She's not a nervous type... in fact, she generally seems to be incredibly laid back 90% of the time. Then again, she WAS a racehorse, and it's very common for track horses to be ulcery. However, she came off the track in August last year... I would think the ulcers would have presented themselves by now. Plus, from what I saw, it looked like she was living the life at the farm I bought her from. Turn out all night, easy work 3 days a week... i'm not sure what could be stressful about that. And now? She's basically just been hanging out in a field with her best buds for the past few months and eating boat loads of grain and all the hay she could stuff into her face.
I'm just feeling a little lost and very upset. I'm hoping an appointment to the dentist will fix this issue, because I feel AWFUL right now. I cant stand being able to see her ribs as much as I can, and I'm doing everything in my power food-wise to fix it with NO results. None. It's incredibly frustrating. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this problem will be fixed soon... whether it will be fixed with a dentist visit, gastroguard or some yet-unknown remedy to a yet-unknown ailment is beyond me, but I WILL sort her out. I want my baby fat and happy.

Hello, Spring!

I would like to begin with this:

I mean seriously!? WTF?? I don't care HOW good a jumper it is... I would never let that happen. Not sure where the photo came from, it was sent to me on facebook and I just couldn't NOT put it here, it's too ridiculous!

Currently, the weather is absolutely beautiful but I am stuck inside feeling like a walking autopsy photo of myself. It's pretty disappointing. I'm hoping that I'll feel better tomorrow so that I can go up to the barn and get Dee working. Really, that's my only update. I've contracted the plague and just haven't been able to get up to the barn, so here's to getting better!

Poetry.

Right now I'm sitting here editing some stuff for the Tapestry and I decided to post some of my own stuff. I don't generally like to put my stuff on display, but hey, why not. You only live once, right? Plus, it's my blog... it doesn't ALWAYS have to be about horses.

Elaborate Facade

A plastic smile
On a face made of steel,
And mechanical arms and legs
That move in a soft and practiced way.

But beneath the charming,
Beautiful exterior
Lies a festering,
rotten mess.

The blood has turned to sludge
That trudges sadly through the veins,
And the heart is black and tired
From thumping through the pain.

In the world the thing seems happy,
It is confident and composed.
Behind closed doors it sheds its’ armour
And it crumples to the floor.

The mirrors are all broken,
The windows are blacked out,
And the shattered mess of feelings sits,
Unraveled and alone.

Most days it drags the suit back on
And slogs into the world,
But at times the mess is just so big
That the armor will not fit.

So it spends the day in shambles
Screaming nonsense at the moon,
Who is an alabaster nitwit,
But he listens pretty well.

Intimacy In A Snow Storm

White powder falls

Down down down,

Behind a plastic curtain.

Icicles form—

Bright bright bright

In our pupils as we watch.

A smile,

A touch,

We plan to break outside.

The door opens up,

Swish swish swish,

And the cold rips through our clothes.

Snowballs clutched in

Red red hands,

And we both toss them, laughing.

We dance,

Fall down

In a heap on the ground.

It’s skin on skin,

Cold cold cold,

Our fingers freeze together.

Now lip to lip,

Hot hot hot.

Our bodies make the ice melt.

the satanic seduction

paint that hurse like a fireball, boy,

it's the hottest thing at school.

starve yourself into a waif, sweet girl

cause it makes you seem so "cool".

kids, we'll shove that stick into your mouths,

so you can prove you're "down",

and once you're hooked they'll chase you out

for stinking up our town.

paint your fingers,

dye your hair,

dress those bones in black.

get your cloves,

smoke 'em up,

and we'll supply the crack.

we'll lure you in,

we'll drag you down,

we'll poison you with lies.

we'll steal a baby,

to cook alive,

and snicker as it cries.

girl, make your face as white as snow,

and make your lips real dark,

those boys will look you up and down,

and make some nice remarks.

boy, become as thin as twigs,

and put on that girl's dress.

i'll bet she loves you all night long,

and drowns you in excess.

i'll bring the booze,

you bring the drugs,

and we'll all dance like fiends.

the room is cold,

your body's hot,

let's screw where we'll be seen.

tell your mommy,

tell your dad,

that you're "quite gothic now",

and when they're mad,

you just blame me,

and i'll come take my bows.

Shattered

Those stars burned holes in my dazzled eyes.

That cold drew clouds from my parted lips.

I dangled blindly over a velvet cloak,

Supported by the cold, cracked tar.

I reached out for miles and found a cloud,

Then pulled it round myself for warmth.

Then I dropped from the tar in a fit of defiance,

Landing in a vast black bed.

There was perspective gained from the white hot stars,

And I stayed transfixed for decades.

A hundred years ears passed in an instant,

But my body refused to grow old.

All these years in my head made my thoughts change,

But the world stayed just as it was.

So I made my way back on a Sunday,

To collapse where my saga began.

A door closed as my eyes did,

And the numbness crept into my fingers and toes.

Skeletons

Bones clink and clatter awkwardly

As the skeletons dance by,

And we sink deep down

Into a semi-conscious state.

It’s a festival of decadence,

Governed by the dead,

With ghosts and specters skipping through,

Their voices in our heads.

We hold each other tightly,

Gripped by terror and by awe

As they rattle, rattle, clank and crash,

Dancing in the dark.

Our flesh begins to drip away,

Our clothes are melting off,

And in a horrid state of half-decay

We slip into the throngs.

There you rip off your shirt,

As I peel off my dress,

So we both can go dancing

On this holiday.

We’re only skeletons.

All I need is my Pony.

Every have those times when life just gets so stressful that you need that ONE thing you can turn to? For me, that has always been my horse, and Dee hasn't let me down. I'm the type of person who is very black and white. I don't like it when people are are misleading, and I don't like it when my life turns into shades of gray. I think that's why I've always loved horses. They tell you how it is no matter what. My life has been full of gray lately, and it's been driving me nuts. But yesterday, Dee and I trucked over to Nancy's and had an amazing ride, which made everything that little bit better. She was really fabulous... forward, straight and totally relaxed through the whole ride. I mean, she had bobbles here and there (mostly at the scary, horse-eating side of the ring), but even those were very minor. Nancy seemed very happy with her, and we only did about 20 minutes of work, but it was plenty for my little out of shape baby.
She even dealt with another horse in the ring like a total pro. When I first went in there, Nancy was jumping Bunny around a bit. Needless to say, I waited to get on because Dee's little eyes were rolling around in her little head trying to figure out what on EARTH was going on. Eventually, Nancy went out to jump outside, so I jumped on and started working. A few minutes later, Bunny came back in to walk around and cool out (so that nancy could give me some pointers) and Dee could CARE LESS. Trot by Bunny? No worries! Bunny left? Who cares! She was a proper grown-up about everything and I was SO PROUD.
For me, horses have always been a way to regulate my life... keep things on track. They let me know where I stand every step of the way. Dogs and cats are similar, sure, but we don't ever work as closely with them as we do with our horses. If Dee is mad at me, she'll let me know immediately. If she's happy, she lets me know that, too. Granted, she often seems more peeved than anything else when I work with her on the ground, but that's only because she's momma's little princess and has to make sure I keep that in mind!

I used to dream that one day I would run away and live in the wild with my horse, like the people of olden days. I wanted it to be just me and my horse depending on each other and no one else. I'm a firm believer that there is no better thing than spending a day at the barn... in the tack and just hanging out with the horses.
At eleven years old, balmy summer days were spent as an Indian – bare feet and bare legs on the bare back on a horse. I would sit and scan the horizon, supreme upon a grassy knoll, held close by the haze, which hung in the air like a tapestry. Sweat, dirt and hair leapt from the horse, gluing me to his back, securing me in my position. A cotton lead hung loose in my hand, hardly a form of control, but I trusted my steed to remain on the hill, gorging on the fragrant green grass. Enveloped in the hot, humid air, we were safe, we were wild Indians, unconcerned with the world outside our field. There was no future, no past, just a perfect fantasy. We didn't worry about future horrors. They didn't exist. I was blithely ignorant to the future, a future where my sublime golden pony would be ripped from my life, a future where Indians on grassy knolls were a crumpled memory in a photo album.
I miss those days constantly. I always secretly wish that those dreams could be reality. All I need is my pony, who speaks in black and white and doesn't feed me bull shit.

And just as an aside... I'm watching Moulin Rouge right now... this is my favorite sequence ever:

Misha

My mother brought him home when I was 6. I had begged and begged for a cat, and finally, I had one to call my own. He was born in a ballet studio, so we named him Misha, after the renowned male ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov. When he was a kitten, I used to carry him around in a basket, telling him that he shouldn't have to walk because he was the prince. We always used to joke that Mish thought he was a dog, because he was always there to greet people at the door, he would come when called, he was even a good boy for baths. My friends and I also used to call him a little russian spy, because he always seemed to be sneaking around and partaking in shady business. We figured he was really evil and plotting world domination, but we could never prove that.
Over the last few years, he lost a lot of weight, and this summer he was diagnosed with a thyroid problem. Once on the meds, he started doing a little better, but we just couldn't get him to gain any weight. I thought we were going to lose him over Christmas, when he spent about a week just sleeping and not wanting to eat (this was a cat that was ALWAYS hungry and would bite your hand off for any morsel of food). He bounced back, though, and I thought he would be fine.
This morning, I left at 5:30 to go up to Washington. When I got home at 9, my mother's car was in the driveway, which was odd. When I walked inside, she told me that she had just gotten back from the vet. She found Misha seizing in the laundry room this morning and just couldn't wait until I got home. There was nothing the vet could do. Maybe it was for the best, not seeing him in pain like that, but I'm just so upset that I never got to say goodbye. I hope he knew that I loved him. That I wish I could have been with him. I hope he wasn't in too much pain. I hope he wasn't scared.
Goodbye, Misha. I wasn't with you for your last moments, and I'm sorry for that. I loved you more that you probably knew, and you gave me 18 wonderful years. Thank-you.