Or, "What the Hell, 'Her Results Are Weird?'"

My girls came home last night.

They were both a little wanky.  In the equine world, we call it "off."  In small animal vet med, we have two terms, "ADR" and "NDR", depending on how ghetto/southern your clinic is.  It stands for "ain't doing right" and "not doing right", respectively.

The emergency clinic where they spent two nights is the only e-clinic in the city.  And they've got a pretty horrible reputation.  The 24-hr clinic I worked at had an okay reputation, but money was always an issue.  Money, money, money.  This e-clinic didn't take a deposit because I was in the field and actually ended up discounting a considerable chunk, due to professional courtesy.  The thing that's setting off little red flags, though, is the blood work.

The girls had blood glucose tests (BGs) done every two hours or so.  This is called a blood glucose curve, as your BG shifts in accordance to you eating (simplified, of course).  The normal BG for a healthy, non-diabetic dog ranges from 70 to 150, all depending on where they are in the curve.  My girls were fed multiple small meals to keep the BG up and were also on and off dextrose, also to keep the BG up.  The dropping of the BG is called hypoglycemia and was a result of the xylitol toxicity.  With me so far?

Here's the fishy part:  for the 36ish hours that they were at the e-clinic, their BGs were never, never in the normal range.  In my brief, stilted conversations with the technicians, I was told that they weren't stabilizing, that if they went off the dextrose, they dropped.  When I initially spoke with the vet (the one and only time), she said that it would be 18-24 hrs of fluids, dextrose weaning and observation and then they could go home.  The technician made the estimate for two days, though.  Like she knew.  Okay, I get it.  I was on the other side for so long, I understand that I'm a bitter dog mom and I just wanted my girls to come home, so of course they were doing something wrong.

Here's the fishier part:  they went off fluids yesterday morning at about 6-7 am (I think, who knows?).  They pulled a BG at about 6 am and both girls were in the 60s.  I picked them up at 7:30 am and I transferred them immediately to my rDVM (where I work weekends occasionally).  They pulled BGs at about 8 am to see how they were and if they needed to go back on fluids.  Scarlette was 150 and Savannah was 89.  Perfect, normal range.  I explained to my husband that sometime excitement can do that - raise the BG.  "Mom has come to save us!  OH MY GOD, it's a car ride!"  That effect, you know?

But the girls never went back on dextrose, never left the normal range, and all it took was crossing the doorway of my rDVM.

Fishy.

And the e-clinic ran two chem panels on both girls - an initial to get a baseline and a 24 hr to see if there were any liver changes.  My rDVM ran a third at the 48 hr mark, again to look for changes.  There are a multitude of panels that can be run - in house, it depends on your equipment and what you're looking for (diagnostic, complete blood count, etc.); for the lab, it essentially depends on what deal you've got with what company.  All of this blood work was in house, for both clinics, because we needed results ASAP.  ...But only my rDVM held a certain liver value.  A liver value that was inflated for Scarlette.  So, we have no idea if this value was inflated when she checked in (it would have taken 8-24 hrs to show liver changes) or as a result of the toxicity.  So, she goes back tonight to have that tested again.  I'm sure she's excited.

New toy!

Wiped out.

Photos, because I love my little furry bastard daughters:

Scarlette

Playing.

Jealous.

Savannah loves me.

Savannah

 

The situation with my girls isn't improving.

I don't handle emotional stress well.

It's hard to describe the relationship I have with my dogs, unless it's to another "dog person."  Horse people sort of get it, because that relationship is so atypical as well.  If my horse is my partner, my girls are my daughters.  People with kids don't get it, can't fathom that someone would love something with a shortened lifespan that they didn't push out themselves.  But think about it:  they are my first priority when I get up in the morning.  I set up my apartment, for while I'm gone, to meet their safety and entertainment needs: baby gates and a radio and a kong and toys.  The first thing I do when I get home, after greeting their smiling faces, is walk them.  I have them on special diets with additives for their respective ages and digestive needs.  The last thing I do at night is walk them.  Tell Scarlette to get her baby and let's go to bed.  Scarlette will take her baby for the night under the bed while Savannah will start arranging the dog beds next to me.  When I wake up, they'll be curled together on the dog beds and Scarlette will immediately pop up and start dancing around my feet.  Savannah is slower and takes her time stretching.

So where did my miserable story leave off?

I dropped them off at the emergency vets'.  They told me to call back around seven to see how the lab work went.  At this point, they'd been on the dextrose and their BGs had improved and the labs were WNL.  I was told to call back around seven the next night, to see if they had stabilized and could go home.  This was last night.  Instead of calling, being ever the optimist, the hubs and I headed over to the clinic with the leashes and big, stupid hopeful grins.  I was met with bad news:  BGs drop every time they go off the dextrose.  The second (24 hour) chem panel was WNL, but their BGs weren't stabilizing.  The vet (and I didn't even talk to a vet) wanted me to call at 11 pm to see if they could go home.  So we just visited.

It was strange to have them tell me things about my girls.  I told them that they wouldn't need to muzzle Scarlette, but something about the lack of my presence always results in her being muzzled.  That she was dog aggressive (no shit.. did I forget to mention that?).  That they were voracious eaters.

I called at 11 pm to see what the status was.  ..More of the same.  BGs still low.  Still eating, drinking, having BMs and urinating.  Vet wanted to keep them over night and transfer to my regular vet (rDVM) this morning.

I think "misery" describes it best.  I broke down last night, sobbing.  I had gone out yesterday afternoon and bought the girls tons of new toys and new ID tags.  And here's the kicker:  Saturday night, before all this mess, I'd had a dream that Scarlette died.  And Scarlette has been the bigger concern.

I'm just devastated.  It was torturous to sit in the waiting room in the emergency clinic, just waiting to take them to another cage, so they could undergo more tests and more stabs and more fluids.  And they were so happy to see me.  I'll post some details, when I get them.

Or.. Life was Fucking Stellar and the "Powers that Be" (which I don't believe in) Thought to Level That Shit.

Good stuff from yesterday first, so we can understand how ah-mazing it was.

1. Mexican.  I love Mexican.  I would eat Mexican every single day.  I would weigh a bajillion pounds, but I would be freaking stoked the entire time.  Oh, more nachos?  Sure!  Vegetarian fajitas?  Bring it!  Tequila?  Yup!  Margarita?  Yes, please.  ...Okay, so I didn't have all that.  Just the margarita and the nachos.  But it was on a patio and it was bliss.
2. Goodwill shopping.  I'm not ashamed to say that I buy used clothing.  I worked at Goodwill for two years as a volunteer coordinator, so I get the message.  I also see no difference between buying clothes from Goodwill and buying clothes from Plato's Closet, save that Goodwill is considerably cheaper.  It takes longer to find decent stuff and I work a pretty damn good system:  I only buy certain brands that I know wear well, I browse immediately for my size (and I only shop at the one GW that sizes), and before I even try anything on, I scan it for any issues.  Some items even list when they were manufactured, so unless it's relatively new or just that damn good, I don't buy it.  I've maintained half my wardrobe doing this.  I don't buy shoes and I aim for higher end things.
3. Dressage lesson.  The hubs was able to come to the ride and take video.  The Wild Western Pony was his normal self, but I got some compliments.  Kathy said that I was a good student (if I understand what she wants, I do it. The problem is trying to figure out what she wants.) and that the poor guy didn't understand my "sophisticated" requests.  It was a good, albeit hot, lesson.
4. Cupcakes.  More Gigi's!  This time:  Bourbon and Vegas Wedding.  Yuuuum.
5. Jazz'd.  Another opportunity for great food that I wasn't able to finish.
6. Tattoo!  Squee!  I have another session in a couple weeks to officially finish the damn thing.  I got my owl, some filler and my phrase.  Photos on that are forthcoming, too.

And then, this morning, I had a great ride on the kid.  We're all prepping up for "Tropical Storm Beryl" to come and wash us away, so it was a bit windy.  The other two geldings followed us into the pasture in which we were riding and, at this point in time, they were on one side and we were on the other.  There was a sudden tree cracking and the next thing I know, the two geldings are galloping towards us.  I was SO proud of Archie!  He got concerned, but didn't try to break or spook or anything.

Now, a down that equals all of that.

I bought a pack of gum.  I thought it was strawberry, but it was mint and I don't like mint gum.  So I gave it to my husband.  We go run errands this afternoon and he mentions, out loud, how he wonders where he left that gum.  I don't think much of it, but when we get home, we find the fucking pack ripped to shreds.

If you aren't familiar with dogs, or with sugar-free gum, there's an ingredient that can kill your dog.  It's an artificial sweetener called Xylitol.  It's perfectly safe for humans, but one piece of gum with Xylitol has the potential to kill a tiny breed dog.

I immediately took Scarlette and Savannah outside with our trusty syringe and bottle of hydrogen peroxide to induce vomiting.  Here's a side note:  if your dog has eaten something and you aren't sure if it's safe, call the vet before you induce.  When I couldn't get them to vomit, and with the knowledge that they had a three hour window to eat this crap and time was of the essence, I hauled off to the emergency vet.

They used a medication called apomorphine which, when placed under the eye, causes almost instantaneous vomiting.  They were able to determine that both dogs ate the gum.  The vet came in to talk to me about the concerns about the toxicity and I pretty much told her to cut the shit and run a blood glucose (BG) while I call the ASPCA poison control number ($60).  I'm not a vet and she probably hated that I asked if she had already done that, but I knew they ate the gum and didn't need to know the contents of the vomit to prove that.  I needed numbers.  I needed to know the damage.

After the BG had time to run (and I'm not sure what took them so long), she came back to report that they were both hypoglycemic and that, after talking to the ASPCA toxicity vet, she had a game plan.  This is what I'm talking about!  I gave the primary tech a head up that I had three years' experience in emergency veterinary medicine, so I don't know why they were pussy-footing around.

The bottom line is that they'll have to spend the night at the emergency clinic, getting intravenous (IV) fluids with dextrose, to level out the BG.  They ran a chem panel to get a base line for values (which, by the way, if your vet ever wants to run bloodwork when your pet isn't sick, FUCKING DO IT!  They need something by which to compare should anything go wanky.).  Everything was currently "within normal limits" (WNL).  They'll stay on the fluids until the BGs are normal and repeat the labwork in 24 hours.  The point, after having determined that they had a toxicity strong enough to cause hypoglycemic, is to see if there is any liver damage.  Unfortunately, that takes a minute to determine.


Yay for xanax and bud light.

Today was pretty amazing.

1)  Mexican lunch on a patio.

2)  Goodwill shopping.

3)  Dressage lesson.  With video!

4)  Cupcakes.

5)  Jazz'd.

6)  Super-awesome (and somehow cheap?) tattoo session.

I'm sooo tired that further details won't be until tomorrow.  :)

So last night was supposed to be my quiet night in with the "kids" while my husband went out of town.

Alas.. he came home.  :)

I still spent extra time at the barn, though I did stop riding earlier than anticipated.  We were trotting over half-raised ground poles (like, the opposite end of each was raised, to make life a little tricky for the Kid).  And suddenly, BAM.

There wasn't really a loud sound, but we had a hard almost-fall.  He caught himself, I stayed on.  I hopped off, checked his legs, checked his face, fixed the poles.  Walked him around, trotted him around and he felt fine.  I, however, was in excruciating pain half an hour later and couldn't move my neck.  Being special me, it took me until the ride to work to figure out what could have caused this horrific neck pain.  My husband, who looks at spines and necks all day, slathered on some Icy Hot while laughing maniacally and gave no further advice.  I've taken some Aleve and applied more Icy Hot.  That crap burns.

And now I'm at the point of trying to decide if I should continue to self-medicate, if I should beg his boss for some muscle relaxers, or if I should head over to the walk-in clinic.  I wouldn't care so much, but I don't want anything to touch my dressage lesson or tattoo session for this weekend.  Pain is not a priority until it impacts my riding!

          

I rode the Archman on Monday night.  And, even though his frogs look deplorable and that can't be comfortable, he was forward and he was interested.  He picked up both leads nicely, which was great because I haven't asked for the right lead in months.  Unless he spooks.. then I make him pick it up and go, go, go.  But I don't remember that happening recently.  Anyways, the other guys were being fed and I didn't realize that the BO had walked into the pasture in which we were riding until we flew past her hot pink self.  I was really, really proud of the kid.

In regards to his poor feeters, I'm at a loss.  I think it's either just an unfortunate case of all four sloughing off at the same time (weather?) or an equally unfortunate case of "dry thrush".  Either way, I'm going to start using Apple Cider Vinegar, which makes me feel incredibly ghetto.  I've got Thrust Buster, but I'm concerned about treating his hooves with a medication that may not be warranted.  There's no smell, there's no tar.  There's just the peeling of his frogs.  ACV is supposed to be gentle enough to not screw up the balance that's already there, so I almost feel like it's preventative meets treatment.

Oh, here's a story:  last summer, I was out fiddling with the kid while BO's best friend was feeding.  I think all of these people are crazy.  That should be understood first and foremost.  So, I was picking his feet and applying hoof conditioner while he munched on his beet pulp. And then I was getting ready to leave.  I didn't ride or do a thorough groom - I just wanted to take care of his hooves.  The Beastie asked me what I was doing.  I explained.  She then said that I didn't need to worry about all that and I should just get some bleach and it would take care of any potential problems.  Bleach. His. Hooves.  Fucking kidding me.

Most weeknights that I ride, I always feel a pressure to get to the barn really fast and to get done as soon as possible.  The Man is supposed to be spending the night out of town tonight in preparation for a surgery he's performing tomorrow.  And I am luxuriating in the idea of taking my time.  And it's more than just the extra time I plan on spending with the kid, it's the rest of the night.  He's forbidden me from working out without him, so no Insanity.  That means I can take a nice, long run if I so desire (I probably won't desire.  Just saying.).  I can turn off all the nights, eat too much pasta, and watch a chick flick.  I can invite the dogs onto the couch (which is strictly forbidden.  Rawrr!  Dog hair in addition to cat hair! Neevvvvarrr!) and cuddle like we used to.

And.. I'm pretty stoked about this weekend.  Saturday, Saturday, Saturday.  Oh, you'll never get here.

I've got a dressage lesson with Kathy Faulk out in Richmond Hill.  I haven't been able to take a lesson for two months because of show season impacting my ability to ride the Wild Western Guy.  Yeah, it's true:  I ride a primarily-Western downhill Quarter horse/Appendix for my dressage lessons.  We've accepted that there are some things that Zip won't do and some things that I have to rephrase.  The goal is to get Archie out there for a lesson, but two things need to occur:  transportation and conditioning.  I've been working on the conditioning and am still trying to figure out the transportation thing.  I never knew I was such a good Hunter/Jumper Princess until I started taking dressage and my body refused.

And after my lesson?  TATTOO!!!

I've mentioned it before, I think, that I have a lot of tattoos.  Not like.. a million.  You can still see my face.  :)  Kidding.  You can't.

See what the excitement does to me?!  My intentions are to post a page about my tattoos and as soon as I can get some photos taken, I will.  I've got about fourteenish.

I suck at soccer.  The thing, though, is that I really, really enjoy it and I want to be good at it.  But I don't understand all of the rules, the terms, and I'm just not fast or confident enough.  I didn't go into this thing thinking that I would be amazing, but I thought that since I was a runner, I would at least be able to not die.  And I'm not dying, not exactly, but goddamn if some of those girls don't try to kill me.  I marked a girl last night who easily was over six feet tall.  I'm exactly 5'5''.  I couldn't keep up.  I tried.  I tried until I was a wheezing mess, bent over on my burning legs.  And then I subbed out.

I asked our captains, who I think not-so-secretly hate me, what I could do to improve.  Their only suggestion was to join a bottom-level co-ed team and continue playing throughout the summer.  Unfortunately, those guys meet during the week and it's not feasible (I have Insanity/running/riding).  ..And, I'm sorta scared about playing with men.  So what else can I do?  We're about to start Insanity: Asylum, which is geared towards "sports training", so I expect that to help some.  Then I just have to learn how to handle a ball.  So, to be practical:

1. Build speed endurance
1. Lose weight
2. Get faster
3. Go longer
2. Get confident with a ball
1. Taking
2. Kicking
3. Dribbling

One of my worst photos, but it was really, really dark in there. That's baby food and Uncle Ben's, with some stuff shoved in a tomato.  Barf.

Or.. "The Rain is a Giant Pain in My Ass."

I didn't plan on writing today because I don't have anything substantial to say.  No body cares about work stuff.  :)

I rode Archie last night and he was pretty spry.  It was just a bareback walk-around for about fifteen (until it started raining, surprise!).  I spent some time braiding his mane.  Since we moved to Savannah and the luxury of showing at home was stripped, I haven't cared as much about his mane being pretty.  But, then I pulled it really short (for me/us), and it started going all stupid-like and I decided to try to tame that beast.  So far, I haven't been successful.   And today, it rained (surprise!).


Here's a topic I'm pretty interested in:  horsie massage.  Or "Equimassage".  Or "Equine Sports Massage".  Or whatever the fuck it's called.  Archie was previously seen by a super-fine chiropractor, out of Aiken.  Dr. Ridgway.  He did the full gambit:  adjustments, acupuncture, saddle fitting and massage.  I even got a little horse chart (COVERED in red) of what were Archie's problem areas.  I've gotten a connection for someone who travels to Savannah periodically, but I would have to find a way to get the Arch to the barn at which he visits.  Until then, though, I've been focusing pretty heavily on massage and stretches.

We already do carrot stretches and I can tell that he thinks they're silly.  "Okay, Mom, I'll touch my side.  CARROT!  Head between my knees?  Fine.  CARROT!  Other side, okay. CARROT!"

And, because he is super back sore and Eventer79 has had good results with massaging, I started researching that.  I found a pretty good YouTube video by EquineMassageVA that was informative and easy.  We do this video almost every single time we ride, because it seems to welcome his back for a saddle: 
This group also has a website and never-updated blog: Mane-ly Muscles.

But you can't really do massage without some knowledge of anatomy and I found this to be informative (and short.. I mean, relatively short):

Or, I Sang My Song to the Rain Gods:  "Rain, Rain, Go Away, I Want to Ride My Horse Today!"

I got to ride last night!  *does little happy dance*


I shortened the amount of trot time, simply because I'm not a hundred percent that he's a hundred percent.  He got grouchy when I asked him to trot up a hill towards the right, which makes me wonder about his right shoulder and his left hind (and that's about as much as I know about impulsion.. or, rather, "think" because "know" is too strong of a word). He hasn't ever been super keen tracking right, but that's just the OTTB in him, I think.  And, man, did he want to jump!  I've got a couple little trot pole grids set up, with opposite ends raised, and he was dragging me to them.  :)

Regardless, it was a successful ride and I think I'll try him again tonight or tomorrow night.

In other life stuff, I was contacted recently by the woman who was my "BFF" in elementary and middle school. When high school came about, we went our separate ways.  She lives in Atlanta now, with her boyfriend and one of her two kids.  We.. uh.. don't have much in common.  Thinking of it, we never did.  She was pretty, thin, friendly.  I was average, chubby, and angsty.  She overplayed her seeming lack of intelligence while I sharpened my mind to a bloody knife.  She was remedial, I was advanced.  She liked the popular kids, I liked to make fun of the popular kids.  She went with the flow, did what was trendy, and I made as many waves as I possibly could.  So she sent me a text, written like a 14 year old girl, "Ur long lost childhood friend!... C what uve been up to... Stop by and c u!"  I cringe every time I read it.  I texted her back and told her that I'd give her a call when I had a chance, which I haven't.  Or I haven't made a chance available.  What can I say?  I'm fucking busy.  And I couldn't figure out why she would be reaching out to me.  Need someone to consult with about birth control?  So, due to my lack of response, she sent me another text saying that she was going to be around my city and wanted to meet up.  Ahh..

It's not that I have anything against the woman.  I don't.  She was my closest friend for several formative years.  I just don't know that I necessarily want her back in my life.  And I love that I'm in a place now where I can be selective.  :)

Sometimes, I have to wonder how much information to divulge.  I'm not worried about someone finding me and stalking me or anything, but sometimes things get a little personal.  Huh.

I rode Archie on Thursday and he felt.. weird.  He did everything I asked him for and performed in his normal superstar fashion, but something wasn't clicking right.  There was no head-bobbing lameness, no lack of extension on the hind end, no off step.  It might have been a slight shortening of stride, which makes me think of his feet being tender.  I checked him for heat and stones and any abscess blow outs, but I couldn't find anything.

I hopped on him Friday and it was more distinct.  There was some sucking back on the stride.  I could be paranoid and he could be lazy, but I felt like there was something wrong.  I got off him pretty quick, checked his legs again (nothing) and checked his hooves again (weird).  His frog on his right front seems to be in a perpetual state of sloughing off, but now it seemed like three of his frogs were sloughing off.  I know this isn't supposed to be a big deal, but I'm super paranoid.  The only thing I could think was the recent rain coupled with our high temperatures and constant high humidity was just acting like a too-long soak for his frogs.  And maybe that was making him tender.  I gave him Saturday and Sunday off and will hopefully be able to hop on him today and determine how he's doing.  I was also able to go by a tack store! This kind of a big deal, because Savannah has absolutely no tack stores.  Not including the poor carriage horses, the city only has about ten horses. So, even though I already had hoof conditioner, I got another bottle that was reputably supposed to have anti-fungal and anti-bacterial agents.  Because I'm paranoid.

Saturday, I worked at the veterinarian's office.  I've spent almost five years in small animal veterinary medicine and feel like I can do some of this crap in my sleep.  The clinic I worked at in Augusta was phenomenal.  It was money-hungry, but blatantly so: emergencies were, without fail, $100 to come in.  And it ran like a small business; you knew the owners, you knew the staff, you knew how everything functioned.  The care came first, but we had to get paid, too.  The facilities were.. absolutely gorgeous.  It was built in the style of an old cathedral, with wooden beams and church pews.   There were only eight kennels and we focused on "quality over quantity."  Dog families could board together and they would go out no less than four times a day into the large fenced-in yard.  And each suite had a kennel camera, so the neurotic owners could watch Fido sleep.

The clinic in Savannah.. not as amazing.  I really like the coworkers, but the owners leave something to be desired.  They model themselves after a corporation: office manager, practice manager, policies, policies, policies.  They'll work with you more on payment issues than the Augusta clinic, but they've got "preventative care" packages that are virtually worthless.  I could get more done in Augusta for the same amount. The boarding creeps me out and I won't let my kids board there.  Every dog is separate and only goes out twice a day: 7:30 am and 4:00 pm.  Little dogs don't get to go outside to potty, they have to use a "run" inside.  The smaller dogs sit on plastic crates and occasionally they'll give them blankets.  I just.. hate it.  My primary experience is in emergency medicine and there is an emergency clinic here, but I don't think they do nearly the business we did in Augusta and run on a skeleton crew.

What was the point of this comparative analysis?  Oh, yeah.  So I worked at the shitty clinic.  Brought lunch home for the husband.  Met a friend for dinner.  Went back to Augusta yesterday and spent way too much money at the Academy Sports store.  That's another thing that Savannah doesn't have: a reputable sports store.  There's a tiny mom and pop place, but the hours are erratic and the selection limited.  It blows.

I actually was able to ride the kid last night (god, that sounds dirty!), and it was a pretty good ride.  I'm going to have to tally my time for the 2pt Challenge, but I think it's safe to say that I suck.  I got Archie a new girth and it came in last night.  I don't know if he noticed a difference, but it felt pretty great to me: elastic on both ends and a soft, fleecy center. I needed something that would match the "new" Stubben.  (Side note:  my Stubben Siegfried is about a million years old, fits my horse exceptionally well and hurts my butt.  It's a step up from the Wintec I had for six years.)  I actually made him push it a little more: ten minute warm up, fifteen trot, ten walk, fifteen trot and a ten cool-down.  I took him out of the pasture that we ride in to offer him some water and the little jerk didn't want to go back in.  I actually had to pop him twice with my hand!

Excuse the dirty saddle pad!  Post ride! Also: the hubs got me this saddle pad for our first Christmas.  :)

After the ride, the hubs and I went and got Mexican.  I'm a sucker for Mexican food.  Nachos might be my life's weakness.  With pico de gallo.  And a 32 ounce Miller Lite.  I went in my tall boots and britches and, I swear to god, I got checked out.  D swears that it was the weird clothes, I swear it was the hot body.  This is a relatively new feeling for me: I've always battled being a porker.  My body likes being fat.  It likes food.  So, after three and a half months of doing Insanity almost every day, coupled with running and riding, I'm in what might be the best shape of my life.  I weigh eight pounds more than I did when I got married (10/2010), but my wedding dress might actually be a bit looser.  I can certainly wear more clothes than I was able to then.  I'll have to suck it up and post some real-life,-I'm-not-getting-paid-for-this-shit photos.

Or.. "I Hate the Rains."

I realize why there are so many blogs about horses and our relationships and progressions with them.  For those of us lucky enough to have an equine in our lives, it's the biggest part of our day.  Nothing tops going out to the barn, to the pasture, to the ring, and spending some time with our favorite kids.  A minute of warm whiskery breath on your face or a hand trailing down a neck, down a shoulder, over a flank.

I once put on facebook that my religion was "Equestrianism", because I feel that these little demi-gods are so incredibly deserving of the worship that we give them.  Carrots, time, new shoes, a gentle rub.  Money.  I wrote before that I worked three jobs in order to make ends meet and one of the biggest questions, insults, almost, was why I would get a horse if it was so hard to keep a horse.  And it's easy.  It was never a question for me.  When I was barely, barely making ends meet, there was absolutely no regret for the acquisition of my gelding.

So, I haven't been able to ride Archie since Sunday.  Monday, it rained.  Tuesday was a running day.  And Wednesday, it thundered.  I've got plans to go out tonight and work his little bottom off, though.  When I last rode, I went with 10 minutes of walking, 10 trotting, 5 walking, 10 trotting, 5 walking, 10 trotting, and a fifteen minute trail ride to cool down.  It was a lengthy ride and that old Stubben sure hurt my butt, but he seemed okay with the workout.  Lazy once we got to the third 10.  Tonight, I've got renewed plans to ride with the lessee from the barn.  And!  I have a SmartPak coming in today with a new girth, fly mask and fly spray.  I thought I bought new paddock boots.  Damn.

Or.. "But Pizza Tastes Just As Good the Second Time!"

This is a random photo I stole. I hope I have the same stupid smile.

Okay, so I didn't really barf.  I just felt like I needed to for about twelve hours.  Yesterday was an Insanity/run day, which, shamefully, I didn't do at all last week.  Last month, I'd been training for a 5k, so all I did were three mile runs.  Over and over again.  The next big run I've got is a 7k "mud run", so I had to up the mileage a tad.
I am stupidly excited about this run.  I've never done a mud run and I was stoked when one of the women (when did I get to the age that I stopped calling my peers "girls" and started calling them "women"?) from my soccer team asked me to do it with her.

So, anyways, back to the almost-barfing:  I did my hour of Insanity with the husband (Max Cardio Plyo, in case anyone cares) and decided I absolutely needed to go get my miles in.  I'd only burned about 450 calories doing the Insanity, so I didn't think I was wiped out or anything.  I got some water, my iPhone, and Archie's beet pulp/SmartPak mixture and headed to Lake Mayer.  And I started.  I should have known something was off when my pace was super, super sluggish, but I kept on.  I normally start a bit slow, anyways.  So I cruise, slowly, through the four and a half miles (52:59, average pace of 11:45), call the hubs and ask him to put my very special pizza in the oven.  I went by the barn, gave the Kid his happy treat (I'll have to do a special post just on my obsession with my horse's nutrients), and headed home.  By the time I got there, the pizza was ready, so I started scarfing.

It was like slow-motion.  Eat a bite.  Eyes get wide.  Swallow slowly.  This is the best pizza you'll* ever buy in the grocery store, so I wasn't going to not eat it.  I was just going to suffer the consequences and hopefully learn to give my body some down time before I shove carbs and cheesy veggie goodness into it.  Poor husband had to listen to me bitch and moan about being disgustingly sick for the rest of the night.  :)

*If you are a lacto-ovo vegetarian who shops at Publix and likes thin crust, organic pizza.  I'll admit:  I pick off all the mushrooms.

This is the Spinach & Feta version.  Not nearly as good, more calories and it'll leave spinach in your teeth.

Or,.. "The Rainy Weather Inclines Me to Acknowledge That I'd Rather Sit on My Ass, Reading a Book and Drinking a Beer, Than Do Any Sort of Work.  Whatsoever."

I have a pretty intense schedule.  It'd be scary to some if they weren't accustomed to my history (see below).  But it's my schedule and I've been developing it for months, so I'm pretty freaking unimpressed by it.

	Insanity	Riding	Running	Soccer
Monday	X	X
Tuesday	X		X
Wednesday	X	X
Thursday	X		X
Friday	X	X
Saturday	X	X
Sunday		X		X

Today, though, it's raining.  Since I ride in a freaking stick and manure infested pasture and not a spacious dreamy indoor, riding is out.  I thought, briefly, about dragging the kid out and taking him on a water-logged trail ride, bareback and in his halter.  But something is screaming at me that I might die.  I could go log a few miles on the treadmill at the gym that I haven't entered in months.  But I'm also thinking that I'd rather not.  I should have put a calorie column on that chart, because that shit is crazy.  I should be a stick.  Thank god I eat enough for two of me.  :)

• Monday:  Work 8am - 5pm, feed from 5:30pm - 8:30pm, train at vet's from 9pm - 12am
• Tuesday:  Work 8am - 5pm, work at vet's from 6pm - 12am
• Wednesday:   Work 8am - 5pm, feed from 5:30pm to 8:30pm, train at vet's from 9pm - 12am
• Thursday:  Work 8am - 5pm, work at vet's from 6pm - 12am
• Friday:  Work 8am - 5pm, ride Archie
• Saturday: Work at vet's from 6pm - 12am
• Sunday: Feed from 8am - 1pm, 3:30pm - 6:30pm

Carrot Cake.  Obviously.

Or.. "Not a Single Fuck Was Given."

I hit six months with the municipal corporation for which I work. If you aren't familiar with what that is, it's a city. Excluding my three days for my surgery, various doctor and dentist appointments, and federally recognized holidays, I have consistently been at work. Until yesterday.

Merry Margarita.

Yesterday, I took a half day after a legal training and met the man for lunch at a nice, ritzy restaurant. It's called Toucan Café, and the owners actually have couple places in town. I think the sister restaurant, Sweet Potatoes, was on Food Network a couple times.

After a fancy lunch? Pedicures and cupcakes. Cupcakes are normally reserved for a Saturday guilty pleasure, but we were killing time for a 3:15 movie. If you've never been to a Gigi's, go. ASAP.  I had the "Merry Margarita" and D, being a ginger, had "Carrot Cake."  I have the tendency of only eating half of the cake itself because all I really want is the frosting.  Oh, and this is one of those places that won't reveal how badly they're killing you.

And then we went to the movies.  I know he really wanted to see the Raven, because we both love suspenseful horror-ish thriller things, but I also wanted to see the Avengers.  I figured a matinee 3D might actually be a cost-efficient idea.  And, man, it was a damn good movie.  I had no idea who the Black Widow or Hawkeye were and asked loudly (he says) if they were the Wonder Twins.  I've since learned that no, I'm an ignoramus.  As badly as this failed the Bechdel Test, it was still an entertaining movie.  I have to give props for women who fight.  And, naturally, I wanted Black Widow to be the best character ever.. but I kind of loved Hulk's character.  "That's my secret:  I'm always angry."

...Or, "How I Learned to Stop Being a Mega-Bitch."

I never intended for this blog to be all about my horse.  So, I'm going to try to make it more about "life in general... for a horseowner."  But this post is pretty heavy in the horsies.

I board the kid at a small, private barn.  It's about eight acres in deep Georgia, covered by oaks and spanish moss.  Three stalls, three bay Thoroughbred geldings.  Sounds blissful, right?  There's a dirt road into some marsh land and a relatively peaceful walk to some other peaceful roads.  It's less than a mile from my house.  The location is phenomenal.  The setup is great.  The management blows.

We've had to have talks about the importance of manure control.  When I first got there, I was all sorts of gung-ho about picking up sticks and making things pretty.  I try to clean out the single water trough at least once every two weeks.  I've cleaned and bought shavings for Archie's stall on a regular basis.  I'm so burnt out.  For the first year and a half that Archie and I boarded there, I was the sole boarder and the owner had two geldings.  She ended up euthanizing one of her geldings (horrible story) and started looking for another boarder.

So, the new boarder came and I tried to discretely tell her that, while the owner gave a great story about her intentions, she'd pretty much be expected to do her fair share to keep things clean and functioning.  It didn't go so well.  Every time after that, whenever we talked, she was telling me things.  Not asking questions, not being interested, but like I had a problem - couldn't ride my horse, wasn't riding my horse enough, wasn't brave enough for my horse, shouldn't be giving my horse this supplement, blah blah blah.  I'm at the point that I don't even say hello to her.  If she's there, I ignore her.  Literally.  She asked about riding Archie.  I gave her an explicit no.

The boarder is a poor college kid with a part time job.  I won't get into how I have no sympathy, though I should be the perfect person for such sympathy.  As a result of her financial and time constraints, she decided to lease her horse out.  When that rider started showing up, I blew her off.  It wasn't intentional - I didn't set out to make her uncomfortable or not want to be there.  It was just the chain of events.  I hate the person that she's connected to.

I was thinking about this yesterday as I was driving to the barn.  The lessee is normally there on Wednesdays, so I was hoping I'd see her.  She was and I did.  We ended up hanging out for about two hours, which started with me apologizing for being standoffish.  I explained that I didn't care for the boarder and that carried over.  We ended up having a lot in common - a history in hunter/jumper with a recent passion for dressage.  Same age, same car.  She wants to go into the same field as my husband.  And she watched me ride the kid and was so incredibly complimentary.  She talked about how he's a giant asshole in the field, but completely different when we ride.  How well we communicate.  How springy his trot is and how smooth the transitions were.  I talked about how important it is to be assertive with him, to be the boss.  How he'll get pissed off and you have to keep pushing forward.  And he actually showed her what I was talking about!

We have a date to ride together on Monday.  I'm actually really looking forward to it.  It's been a while since I had an equestrian friend who did what I do.  Everyone else I know is all into Western and thinks I'm crazy for how spoiled my horse is.