Updatus of Lifus Patheticus

[BEGIN HORSE TALK] I haven’t been able to ride Tag for two weeks! What made it easier not being able to hop on Stampy McHoofington is that he has had a hideous cold this last week. Yes, horses get colds… and yes, the cold-grossness we enjoy is proportionate to size, so we are talking green snot and horky, wet coughs in size and volume that shouldn’t be possible. It’s gross. I was busying myself fussing and cooing and grooming him the other day, and he coughed up a ball of greenish yellow goo the size of a golf-ball and it rocketed from his head and hit the pavement by the tie-rack and splattered like a paintball. Now that I’ve sufficiently grossed you out, I will move on. So, decidedly, Tag is in no condition to be saddled up and ridden. He’s gotten lots of rest time and he’s spent it eating and hanging out in his now dry paddock. The grass-seed I had planted has long since sprouted, grown, been eaten and digested, and his little space is now a barren wasteland. But he still seems to like being out there being bitten by bugs.

The reason for the two-week riding moratorium is my lack of saddle. I have an old Stübben all-purpose/jumping saddle I’ve had since the dawn of time. It’s the saddle you often see on my horse. It’s been used a lot, but not so much that it’s been worn down. It is at that stage that even with my fatter bum; it has molded itself comfortably to me, and is sort of a second skin. My dressage saddle on the other hand was bought when my butt was significantly smaller, and so it’s just too small for me now and I cannot use it. Since I do not plan to ride in contests any more, I will probably sell it. However, the Stübbey, that one is my go-to saddle. For the decade or so I was sans-cheval, it sat, unused, un-oiled in my living room or other similar space, drying up. So the laminated, bonded leather billet straps (the things you buckle your girth to) had begun to delaminate and split into two pieces of leather when I started using it again. I sent it for repair, and the saddler said; “Lady, your saddle needs to be reflocked BADLY.” What reflocking is, for the non-horsified set among you, is a fancy way of saying restuffed. She was right. The padding beneath was like a lumpy rock; compacted down into nothing. Poor Tag. So I sucked it up and had it reflocked.

The reflocking cost a good 25% of what a saddle of that quality would cost new… and if I’d taken that money, I could have probably gone and bought some cheap cardboardy-leather saddle of no particular brand or something… but quality saddles are like quality clothes and shoes… given the right care, they last FOREVER… and I don’t want to mold my butt into another saddle if I don’t need to. The saddle fits Tag really well too. So we sucked it up… the saddle will last me another eternity if I treat it right. So tonight, I ride with the ‘new’ saddle. Yay. I’m pleased with the saddler. This lady is apparently a certified horse Yoga instructor (yes, I’m serious--can horses do Downward Facing Dog I wonder?)  I’ve been out of the horse-loop for a while now, and I have returned to a lot of weird surprises like that… Horse chiropractors, horse yoga instructors, horse psychologists… Holy crackheads… Who pays for that? Aside from the granola-crunchiness of the saddler, she did an AMAZING job, and managed to disassemble the whole saddle to replace the full billet strap system, and re-stitched it so it’s not even noticeable. That's no small task.  I’m impressed, but for a while there, I was worried about my saddle, I confess. It’s hard to know just how good a saddler a horse-yoga instructor can be. Great ones, apparently. [END HORSE TALK]

On the Satan front, mother is back in her rental house after living with my aunt for a month, and nearly driving my tidy, fastidious aunt to lunacy with her bad habits, slobby nature and cantankerous attitude. The last day, they were full-on fighting, and we got a phonecall to this end: “Stephanie… Dan, you need to pick me up and take me back to the rental today… I won’t sit here and be INSULTED like THIS!” ::click:: I am taking her up to the assisted living facility to take a tour tomorrow. There’s a possibility she might end up in the same place as my husband’s grandmother. They’re both short-haired harridans (though hubby's grandma is this teeny little southern bundle of bones who looks so teeny and innocent... but far from it!) and I can totally see them getting along, sitting around complaining about all the insufferable people around them, and agreeing how ungrateful and horrible their children are. Hah! At least I can rest assured she’s having her house cleaned and her laundry done, which is something I’m fairly sure she isn’t doing herself right now. GREAT NEWS is Gollum has gone home to his mama.  Poor thing.  Higlet, this pic's for you:

My husband has been working on starting his own business; and on top of that he actually found employment again—at what amounts to moderately decent pay for this economy, but nonetheless, significantly less than he was making at Vestas. He’s starting his new job on Monday the 26th. It will be hard to juggle the business and the job; but at least for a while, he can do it to make sure ends meet. He isn’t too thrilled about the insane commute… I wouldn’t be either. It’s a full half-hour longer than mine and includes I-84 at early morning hours, which is an exercise in human torture as it is. Forget Guantanamo, just put your political enemies on I-84 at 7:40 AM. I will have to provide him with some serious cool-down time after work, I’m sure.

I am taking my first round of Clomid.  Trying not to get my hopes up or start thinking about baby-murals and sewing crib-dressings and tiny clothes...  It's only round one. :::keep it together Steph:::

Today I signed the petition to become my brother’s primary guardian. Then it will be up to me to make sure he’s set for medical care and such. I just wish all this would just square itself up and I can stop worrying about it. It’s affecting EVERYTHING… work, home, even my play.

HOWEVER, I confess, I am making myself a new regency gown. The picnic at Pittock Mansion looms near, and since it’s my event, I can’t just duck out like I’ve been doing pretty much since January. It’s time I dipped my toe back into the pond a bit; and started taking an interest. I think, as much as it daunts me to think about all the involvement and work of the ORS, that it is sort of crucial to keeping me interested in the world outside my little personal universe. I’ve found some lovely ladies to take on a lot of the tasks for upcoming events, so I’m glad of that. I just need to find the love in it again that makes me want to take part. Lately, it’s just not there. I have been enjoying the sewing bit, I admit. We’ll see how it all pans out. One event at a time.

I might make another pork pie this year. Not sure yet. If decent photos are made, I’ll share. ;)