tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33000779980718745482024-02-18T22:39:39.976-08:00Bobbie No Socks -- The Life of Horse OwnershipAn Amusing Blog About The Life of Horse OwnershipUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-20873681366761833272013-12-07T20:14:00.000-08:002013-12-07T20:14:32.500-08:00While I was away...Yes, it's clearly been a while and oh so much has happened. My last post was in early 2012 and here we are in December of 2013. Since 2012, we've had a severe concussion (for my daughter caused by a horse), a couple of deaths (a great horse and a great dog, that later of which was caused by a horse), an extremely challenging hoof abscess (for Bobbie, the toughest little pony on the planet) and extreme anxiety (much of which was caused by a horse or two or three). Still not sold on buying that next horse?<br />
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To be fair, we've had many challenges in the last couple of years unrelated to our equine friends with a couple more deaths, surgeries, stress and etc., etc., etc.. If I seem a little casual about these horrific things, it's because we've been a bit beaten down and ...<br />
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On the bright side ... we've endured... and ... pause for dramatic affect ... we truly are closer than ever as a family and man have we learned a lot about ourselves and been tested to the extreme.<br />
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As soon as we start wondering, "why us?", feeling sorry for ourselves for what we've been through or proud of ourselves for what we've been able to endure, we look closer at the people around us (feel free to do the same .. no really). If we think about almost everybody we know really well, they're all surviving and enduring something. Whether it be for illness, anxiety, drugs, family woes, financial challenges, car repairs or anything else, we've realized that all of us are always fighting our way through something.<br />
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The beauty of challenge is surviving. The beauty of surviving is we're still here. The challenge of surviving is the fear of what's next. The fight endures and like Winston Churchill, "We never give in"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-79577681391863164452012-01-19T17:51:00.000-08:002012-01-19T17:51:37.846-08:00Frequent Flyer ... Horse ConstructionWhile I was writing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Frequent-Flyer-Hal-Wentworth/dp/1466373660/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1326732206&sr=1-1">Frequent Flyer</a>, I decided that I again had to write about what I knew. I'm certainly no expert on horses (that's my wife and daughter) and I have lots to learn, but I know what I see anyway... I think ... if that makes any sense. So when I created "Flyer", the title character, he had the traits, demeanor and history of 6 horses.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_Acngyk9BxmD-K7X-amAihkFSzmn3mv7lSxHBwpZTKxlkAGyiSPxUunah34eB9xUKyTmCW7in0t9DUJ1oahFR_0dDOgqaV76iS-8p5YIipLahGSR-YliioKYpg-A3eKEKTrimimcgm6H/s1600/More+horse+photos+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_Acngyk9BxmD-K7X-amAihkFSzmn3mv7lSxHBwpZTKxlkAGyiSPxUunah34eB9xUKyTmCW7in0t9DUJ1oahFR_0dDOgqaV76iS-8p5YIipLahGSR-YliioKYpg-A3eKEKTrimimcgm6H/s200/More+horse+photos+009.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
Flyer has the color, mammoth size and funny playfulness of Monty our bread eating Hanoverian from Germany. I can't see over his back when I stand next to him. I'm 6'2"... or I was before I starting shrinking... I'm probably closer to 4'9" now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaYpcXXjzQDQVsxFLcegyzg2sVSkMFq67HKgXKlU8N6jwiPt_ihcSw8rrWzTHqyrfD8xRVYxMtIISf8UEX6x9Lu7zlYaZgngMJ2ew_DZYpKuYj67YGrKVa1J5eIoJezBn1m2Fp_gVCfHN/s1600/christmas+break+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaYpcXXjzQDQVsxFLcegyzg2sVSkMFq67HKgXKlU8N6jwiPt_ihcSw8rrWzTHqyrfD8xRVYxMtIISf8UEX6x9Lu7zlYaZgngMJ2ew_DZYpKuYj67YGrKVa1J5eIoJezBn1m2Fp_gVCfHN/s200/christmas+break+013.JPG" width="200" /></a>He has Bobbie's lips, as nimble as fingers, the ability to pull a cart like Bobbie and the condition in which we first saw him. When we first met Bobbie, he looked like a giant ball of burdock. I honestly wasn't sure what my wife saw in him, he was covered in burdocks and dust. He oddly has the cleanest most organized stall in the barn now.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dr6FngpwrFBHaVZqjw1nN-fE3ArQS4g9a2U1fR2aEDiT-rHEEB7ehRPYkci6enlSTLVK-wOjoBDXbI1chtJkAR7TYRW5iGE7elIAR8thi2f2Eui-K0wQWKHz6K5gg873nigUO35uM7Jn/s1600/More+horse+photos+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dr6FngpwrFBHaVZqjw1nN-fE3ArQS4g9a2U1fR2aEDiT-rHEEB7ehRPYkci6enlSTLVK-wOjoBDXbI1chtJkAR7TYRW5iGE7elIAR8thi2f2Eui-K0wQWKHz6K5gg873nigUO35uM7Jn/s200/More+horse+photos+006.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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He has the unique facial markings of Evelyn ... that almost look like the swords you see in old pirate movies. She's a beauty and don't you dare tell her otherwise.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYmRkB9uv-Wr6GyGFrA1HdACKxblxLtY_YomVNsUM58z4tXrJsVA4c7-mMrgAzl7alUoJLgPgSCkzboLvNCKHJg_xG8JWoJz6wZ2P-ZlBCHhsz4j-4SmjFv9mCQkhbbvtVl8rdFTFAhHqK/s1600/winter+2012+196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYmRkB9uv-Wr6GyGFrA1HdACKxblxLtY_YomVNsUM58z4tXrJsVA4c7-mMrgAzl7alUoJLgPgSCkzboLvNCKHJg_xG8JWoJz6wZ2P-ZlBCHhsz4j-4SmjFv9mCQkhbbvtVl8rdFTFAhHqK/s200/winter+2012+196.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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For the most part, he has the relatively calm demeanor of Shane and Zeus (Couldn't find a photo of Zeus who passed away on Thanksgiving morning a couple of years ago). Neither horse would spook during a fireworks show, at a shooting range, during a thunder storm... yup ... atom bomb proof.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHLtmX2S4UnSic8-vdmTo-7kFyleOLlbxkBBHGw8QuLhJ064p_mn4xjnfIFdSuhGsLXWQQzSaZ0MnMbT1Fp2HfnudavrFQDfpcveqBO_RURA4UXHyYi3Wz5h-w9ugEq3hG4iRHdQ3pSTN/s1600/Snow+Days+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHLtmX2S4UnSic8-vdmTo-7kFyleOLlbxkBBHGw8QuLhJ064p_mn4xjnfIFdSuhGsLXWQQzSaZ0MnMbT1Fp2HfnudavrFQDfpcveqBO_RURA4UXHyYi3Wz5h-w9ugEq3hG4iRHdQ3pSTN/s200/Snow+Days+007.JPG" width="200" /></a>And, Flyer was a former race horse like Dion. Dion is 23 ish now (my wife will correct me if I'm wrong) and he still thinks he could beat Seabiscutt with 1 leg tied behind his back, on a full stomach. Given Seabiscutt's current condition ... I think it's a safe bet.</div>
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I picked the best qualities from each horse to construct Flyer. Flyer's bad qualities...those all came from me!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-22709110889395637272012-01-13T21:10:00.000-08:002012-01-13T21:27:22.807-08:00TGIS ... Thank God It's Snowing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDM3az1zVWU7zLtISj6tJNo1w8QQLqTKtbXxBNBNPVM2BX8i-CCBK6nMMv5rEzJ3QRBHI_rE85IAUL6LDH3fIg8pqRRGVJ_ue1Wr3oSLe-M67uVuO1ijnRSMXE257W7m8Qvwx56a1GR02Q/s1600/winter+2012+243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDM3az1zVWU7zLtISj6tJNo1w8QQLqTKtbXxBNBNPVM2BX8i-CCBK6nMMv5rEzJ3QRBHI_rE85IAUL6LDH3fIg8pqRRGVJ_ue1Wr3oSLe-M67uVuO1ijnRSMXE257W7m8Qvwx56a1GR02Q/s320/winter+2012+243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
It's Friday, but one can forget the, oh, so mundane "TGIF" salutation on this glorious Friday. For today in Central New York, it's all about its long forgotten cousin "TGIS"... Thank God Its Snowing! Oh, and it has been so so long. <br />
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Syracuse usually secures between 100 to 200 inches of snow a year. We pride ourselves on so little, but Syracuse Basketball and 20 feet of snow will make our chests swell with honor.<br />
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Yet, this year has been different. No, not different in the way of Lady Gaga or the duck billed platypus. We've had no snow to speak of this winter. In mid January of 2012 and up until today (Friday the 13th), this winter has only blessed us with a mere pittance of a wimpy dusting of snow ... for the whole winter. Now if it seems to you that I'm one of those odd frozen ducks who loves the white frozen happiness that falls so gently from the heavens... I'm sure it was a lucky guess.<br />
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Yes, Al Gore's Global Warming has reared it's ugly head in Central New York. The shame of it all. We water skied the week before Halloween. We jogged in early December in tee shirts and shorts. The horses have been caked in mud from what seemed like the never ending Spring. This has been the first green Christmas since Nixon was not a crook.<br />
But today, Friday the 13th, behold the eternal beauty of snow. We've had close to a foot of the hardened H2O today and more to come tomorrow, the 14th. Yes, we're talking the proverbial "Winter Wonder Land" and "The Luster of mid-day of objects below"<br />
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We can make snow angels, snow men, snow caves, snow balls and snow forts like we were once again 10 years old with our frosted wool mittens barely able to bend in the subzero arctic cold. <br />
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We can trudge to the mail box watching our foot prints form deep craters in the alien like land ... and then carefully trace our own foot steps back as if to hide from the hounds sniffing the scent of our trail.<br />
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We can feel the cold pinching our rosy cheeks like an over affectionate grandma on holiday schnapps binge.<br />
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The horses can dance, play and roll in the snow and survive perfectly cleansed, except for the odd little icicles that dangle from their whiskers.<br />
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Yes, I love the snow. Yes, I'm a little different. No, not like Lady Gaga.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-78196887233996979822011-12-21T21:16:00.000-08:002011-12-21T21:19:46.941-08:00Writing a Novel ... About a Horse ... Of CourseIn March of 2001, I was a few months into a career move that I honestly was not happy with. I decided to do a couple of things with my life:<br />
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1) I had to find a way out of the environmental engineering firm that I had moved to.<br />
2) Until I solved problem 1, I needed to find a way to relieve the stress that I had with problem 1.<br />
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I decided to start doing something utterly impossible. No, not like eating asparagus, broccoli or 100 year old eggnog (No Fear Factor for me). Actually, I decided to write a novel and it had to be about the things that I knew a little about ... say ... baseball, horses and history. I know ... it would been easier to write a novel about ballet, the World Wrestling Foundation and 100 year old eggnog. <br />
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I told myself that I'd write a half page at a time, as I could find the moments. I actually got up to about 30 pages or so in June of 2001. However, that month, I left the environmental engineering firm to go back to the bank that I'd worked at before and the writing stopped, because suddenly I once again had a purpose. <br />
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Then came the day that changed the view of every human on the planet who thought they had purpose. I knew a couple people who died on September 11th ... not people who I'd met face to face, but a couple of distant voices on the other end of the phone that I conversed with, did business with, joked and laughed with.<br />
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The two voices had names, lives, histories, mothers, fathers, homes, cars, pets, spouses ... families, dreams and purpose ... and everything that I had...except now... all of that was gone for them, their families and friends... even for my distant voices on the phone <br />
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That was the day that I decided that I needed to expand my purpose. Don't get me wrong, I'm still incredibly happy at the bank and will be until I retire in 20 years. However, I just needed more ... another purpose. <br />
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On September 12, 2001, I once again put my two hands on my keyboard and started typing as I had time. I wrote a half page here and a half page there for ... 10 long years. It was a long decade of learning, writing, editing, copyrighting, query letters, rejection, rejection, rejection, self publishing on Amazon.com and then ... poof.... <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Frequent-Flyer-Hal-Wentworth/dp/1466373660/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324104367&sr=1-1">Frequent Flyer</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pv5nvQOzGie1O36e1qIsc9fkMUnVrrMs1z_zVlfLu-6p1OLnzoIuSmcbLhEGqZsahUlivP5_DMEvQ24Fi3Dw_DNzPlyGDQXzf07GD1RkiIqo4GVnG8dG6vR2aHTJ7-Qb_icVRQBn7Qnz/s1600/frequent+flyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Pv5nvQOzGie1O36e1qIsc9fkMUnVrrMs1z_zVlfLu-6p1OLnzoIuSmcbLhEGqZsahUlivP5_DMEvQ24Fi3Dw_DNzPlyGDQXzf07GD1RkiIqo4GVnG8dG6vR2aHTJ7-Qb_icVRQBn7Qnz/s320/frequent+flyer.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br />
After all of that, who knows if my novel is any good? I still find things that probably should change and even odd typos after reading it umpteen times (it's really hard to proof your own writing). However, I like the book a lot. It was fun, I learned a lot, achieved my goal and ... yes ... expanded my purpose.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-18500575680685865222011-11-25T13:23:00.000-08:002011-12-24T10:00:22.158-08:00Be Back Soon for the Winter<div><div><div>Winter is almost here. In fact, they received 18 inches of snow South and East of here a few days before Halloween. My brother, who lives 3 hours southeast of here, a bit closer to New York City, was without power for a week. He and his family moved in with friends until the power came back. You know you live in upstate New York when the kids have snowsuits under their Halloween costumes.<br />
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So much has happened since we last spoke... can't wait to tell you all about it.</div><div></div><div>"Bobbie No Socks The Life of Horse Ownership" will be back soon for the long winter.</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-70838177503210305232011-02-19T13:00:00.000-08:002011-02-19T13:08:01.590-08:00White Out in Orange Land<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVxadYdcRIMywt3sgkYroNMdB4svFXZtQE3DNSpRsmddd5efa4i2on2a0M6s2chlWRWWLCHLQ31iWfOkjcNS1LC0XCG3IIfjw-WZyb3OevrO3QVeLPmWNg1sYBwLVYw5ihG8LSTXbY_JL/s1600/orange+horse+020.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575509155067169618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVxadYdcRIMywt3sgkYroNMdB4svFXZtQE3DNSpRsmddd5efa4i2on2a0M6s2chlWRWWLCHLQ31iWfOkjcNS1LC0XCG3IIfjw-WZyb3OevrO3QVeLPmWNg1sYBwLVYw5ihG8LSTXbY_JL/s320/orange+horse+020.JPG" /></a><br /><div>In addition to being our horses indentured servants, we're also slaves to our passion for Syracuse University basketball. Last Saturday, the Orangemen were away playing Louisville. For the week prior to the game, our anticipation was building as we'd not beaten Louisville away in close to a decade.<br /><br />However, our dreams of victory were seemingly squashed within milli-seconds of the tip off as the result of some insane 3 point shooting by the enemy Cardinals from Kentucky. Rick Pitino, the Louisville coach stood smugly on sideline while Syracuse's coach, Jim Boheim, tried to calm his team by screaming profanity at them (I'm sure he's warm and fuzzy on non-game days). Unfortunately, Syracuse was down by about 20 points by half time.<br /><br />When the second half began, I happened to glance up quickly from the TV to check on the horses outside in the pasture and noticed that it had started snowing lightly and that there was a slight wisp of a breeze. They seemed content and my attention turned quickly back to ESPN.<br /><br />Then something magical began to happen. Ever so slowly, Syracuse, with some wild three point shooting of it's own, clawed its way back into the game. Down 20 ... became down 17 ... down 13 ... to about down 9 or 10 with 3 or 4 minutes to go.<br /><br />During a commercial, I noticed that the wind had picked up incredibly (35 to 40 mile an hour winds the newspaper noted later) and the snow was coming down hard enough that it was getting harder to see the horses in the pasture.<br /><br />Normally, we'd see the horses out in that nasty gale and we'd race with our coat tails hap-hazardly dangling behind us to bring them in. But ... but ... there was less than 4 minutes to go in a game that had momentum clearly moving in our direction. What we couldn't see in the pasture couldn't hurt us ... right? Through the gust of whiteness, it seemed that the the horses just hunkered down.<br /><br />With 1:35 left in the game, Syracuse had pulled within 3 points. I was standing in the middle of the living room so I could see the horses with one eye and the game with the other.<br /><br />Fortunately or unfortunately (depends on your perspective) the horses were in a complete white-out. You couldn't seem them at all. They quite literally had disappeared. Oh well... at least I had the game.<br /><br />"They'll be fine. It's far too dangerous for us to go out and bring them in now," I said to my wife as the seconds passed in the game. Unfortunately, Syracuse's comeback also disappeared and they ended up losing the game 73 to 69.<br /><br />As the final buzzer sounded, we quickly grabbed our coats and boots and ran to the pastures. By the time we reached them, the horses bay coats were plastered in whiteness and icicles dangled from their whiskers, like great Arctic explorers about to plant a flag at the North Pole.<br /><br />Yes, some turn their horses out for the winter, but our pampered pansies were about as happy about being sacrificed for the "love of the game" as a turkey would be for the "love of the meal" on Thanksgiving day.<br /><br />Bobbie (the pony) had an incredible look of disdain and as if he were thinking, "Well, I hope your happy ... because I'm @#&@ing mad you stupid &@*#." Yes, he has a bit of a trash mouth. He's also a bit more warm and fuzzy when it's not game day.<br /><br />While we had a bit of February thaw earlier in the week and one could actually see some grass, in spots, poking through the snow yesterday. Today is once again game day and the winds have picked up again to 50 mph (plus). Syracuse plays Rutgers at home at 4:00 pm and the horses are sitting warmly in their stalls. We don't want to risk Bobbie's wrath again. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-14929130219530922522011-02-07T17:06:00.000-08:002011-02-07T17:10:59.436-08:00There's a Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWUw1PNH-co3Sqo1tcwYEmwD4B5dZLsy89MyjBRDIkP8HPm2iZBczY3bKhPoLvIZu9Ye9D37ZHJ3piSO3S_mOJZge0fpfGDnHHfD_aSyatl7imqQYHlrtJb6SPzjU7PmJy-skSFO7z6R9/s1600/Untitled.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 264px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570763175577162706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWUw1PNH-co3Sqo1tcwYEmwD4B5dZLsy89MyjBRDIkP8HPm2iZBczY3bKhPoLvIZu9Ye9D37ZHJ3piSO3S_mOJZge0fpfGDnHHfD_aSyatl7imqQYHlrtJb6SPzjU7PmJy-skSFO7z6R9/s320/Untitled.png" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>The schools here were a little quick on the draw this past week. For Tuesday, the weatherman had been predicting 8 to 12 inches of snow for the day. We got a call at 5:45 am that school was canceled. Only problem was ... it was a little bit like drinking flat soda. You anticipate one thing and you get another... no fizz ... no snow.<br /><br />Despite the lack of snow, there was a bit of excitement that day. My wife was walking horses out to the pasture and happened to look into the garage. As she walked by, she noticed that one of the empty grain bags by the trash can was standing straight up, shaking violently and inexplicably. She called for my 17 year old son who, anticipating a "mini-me" salsa dancer or perhaps a steroid laced mouse, tipped the bag over by tapping it with a shovel. The wild bag shaker was neither a mouse nor Charo, rather it was watermelon sized possum.<br /><br />Possums are nocturnal and normally won't come out during the day unless it's too cold, at night, during the winter to secure food (yes, I love the info you can find on the Internet).<br /><br />When the bag was tipped, the possum came running out of the bag like the Steelers front line towards my wife who was standing just out side the garage. She screamed running away from the possum. The possum, stopped on a dime, screamed on the inside like a horror movie heroine and decided not to leave the garage. The Possum, clearly shaken, curled up in a ball and ...decided to play ... well ... possum, just playing dead.<br /><br />My son decided to leave it alone to see if it would depart on its own and took off to his girlfriends house. The possum did eventually leave the garage, but circled the house like Kujo waiting to disembowel it's next victim. Possum rarely get rabies (yes, that Internet thing).<br /><br />It made its way onto our deck and decided to hang out by out back door, apparently, wanting to enter our warm home like a proper rodent would.<br /><br />My wife, trapped by the deranged rodent, made the ultimate tactical error ... she called me for my advice. I quickly responded, "Cool, did you get a picture." She didn't. I told her to grab a whistle and scare it. She grabbed a whistle out of the junk drawer, ran upstairs, as I suggested, to the bathroom window and blew as hard as she could to frighten Franken-Possum-Stein away.<br /><br />My advice was as useless as it always is ... as upon hearing the screeching whistle, the possum did what possums do and once again ... played possum (who knew that wasn't a myth).<br /><br />The only thing the whistle blowing accomplished was spook the horses in the pasture into a wild frenzy and irritate my wife. At that point I thought it best to play possum too.<br /><br />Fifteen minutes later the possum left on it's own... probably on its way to its girl friend's house.<br /><strong></strong></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-57328402936263786252011-01-26T18:44:00.000-08:002011-01-26T19:20:09.619-08:00The Fence Eating Snow Drift<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiej4CZkFX-zGDrVUtN7h49QM3Y_RGtPlLmcFQQzKobxVmNkTOaFfH29SkNfcq3s9RCgv5fVbtC1G0Eoh0K1PRH4IVeRd13WxneQA-7yDqDWudTxza3A6oxezdMTSSr7DC6764cUaUrLCwN/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565149027985273138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiej4CZkFX-zGDrVUtN7h49QM3Y_RGtPlLmcFQQzKobxVmNkTOaFfH29SkNfcq3s9RCgv5fVbtC1G0Eoh0K1PRH4IVeRd13WxneQA-7yDqDWudTxza3A6oxezdMTSSr7DC6764cUaUrLCwN/s320/007.JPG" /></a><br />No, we didn't get today's coastal snow storm that dumped another foot or so onto New York City, about five hours away. "Near Miss" was how they described it on the local news like we'd avoided a mammoth iceberg headed for our unsinkable ship.<br /><br /><p>Don't you worry about us "snow deprived" folks in Central New York though. To-date we've now been blessed with 110 inches of snow this season.</p><br /><p>The photo to the left was taken of our hungry fence eating snow drift. Don't get too close or you'll be buried up to your neck before you can say, "Hey, isn't that a fence eating snow dri..."<br /></p><br /><p>Yes, the Central New York sky continues dropping snow as fast as the little snow angels can make it. If it falters for a day or two, the sky is quick to reply, "Don't worry, I'll make more." My son has had six snow days so far (no, he's not complaining) and we still have February, March and probably some April snow days to come. </p><p>While it may sound like I'm whining slightly about the snow, I should mention that it's actually been incredibly beautiful -- "a winter wonderland" is how we describe it. And ... the snowboarding on the slopes has been heavenly with day after day of amazing powder. </p><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QbleEXN9eRvCz5rajSNr-HgHL4N9fC4vfl7yHAH5ZzawtiXod_k8puC0ncwEk6EnHDJ_iwW6AwftjZvWxuLcCg9Lb3tBxyVYND65SkiOlKmRn7W_0KTMmcZspazbKNG8QBtiSxrn7_iU/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566698100374813090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QbleEXN9eRvCz5rajSNr-HgHL4N9fC4vfl7yHAH5ZzawtiXod_k8puC0ncwEk6EnHDJ_iwW6AwftjZvWxuLcCg9Lb3tBxyVYND65SkiOlKmRn7W_0KTMmcZspazbKNG8QBtiSxrn7_iU/s320/003.JPG" /></a>Of course, back on the whining front ... earlier in the week my son's school was delayed two hours and the horses were in all day becomes of -13 degree temperatures, before the hint of wind chill. Needless to say that water buckets were frozen.<br /></p><p>However, it's hard to complain around here as somebody always has it worse. I guess a few hours North of here in Saranac Lake New York they had -39 degrees that morning. I'll keep my frost-bit whining to myself.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-34074162961353148892011-01-18T16:27:00.000-08:002011-01-18T16:42:40.796-08:00The Frozen Double Dog Dare<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8mRpDFI59tHu3QzytJeUWdaiZoqKLpNr_ZEuu6G1AShlSI9HGiDQ-WQz97NL_d_9C0p7Kf05VksmZSri2un8JwRPZQ-xVQ6uF9RFF-hSH0VrNDFlGSFDLiTGiG-gMCzedkMKKqxC59sy/s1600/christmas+break+013.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563688143561589106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8mRpDFI59tHu3QzytJeUWdaiZoqKLpNr_ZEuu6G1AShlSI9HGiDQ-WQz97NL_d_9C0p7Kf05VksmZSri2un8JwRPZQ-xVQ6uF9RFF-hSH0VrNDFlGSFDLiTGiG-gMCzedkMKKqxC59sy/s400/christmas+break+013.JPG" /></a><br /><div>It was negative eight degrees below zero yesterday morning before windchill and the horse's water buckets were frozen solid. While it wasn't quite as cold the day before ... it was cold enough to catch Bobbie off guard.<br /><br />Anybody whose grown up in cold climates has done what he did. It's a rite of passage of sorts for those who were plucked from the womb with ice tongs. You only know what I speak of if you were toddlers with frozen mittens, icy scarves and feet so cold they felt like walking on pin cushions.<br /><br />We recently heard on the morning news of unfortunate waif who had to have emergency services release him from his big brother's similar double dog dare.<br /><br />For those who view snow to be as mythical as leprechauns, you may want to put some more sun screen on and roll over so you don't get sun burned on this January day... for what I'm about to tell you will make your jelly fish sting burn a little less. Here goes...<br /><br />If one sticks ones tongue to any metal object (flag pole, chain link fence, car door or your coats zipper), ones tongue will stick to and occasionally be trapped by said object until it is released by warmth (hot water and global warming typically work best).<br /><br />Until the other day, I thought humans were the only ones who were bold enough to attempt the double dog dare. However, with the frigid temperature, Bobbie thought he'd try licking the frozen metal snap of the chain that holds his pasture gate shut. He, as we all are, was complete caught of guard by the fact that the tongue is 80% water. Who knew?<br /><br />In order to free himself ... he almost pulled the gate off the post with his super equine tongue. Of course he has little hope to out do those that tow tractor trailers with their tongues in the Guinness Book of World Records (although he's in training now).<br /><br />I think it hurt the poor pony a lot as he was smacking his freeze dried taste buds for a good five minutes or so. All I could say to my four-legged friend was, "Been there, done that."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-76665447694336459732011-01-11T16:46:00.000-08:002011-01-11T19:49:30.797-08:00The 600 Pound Sea Horse<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32LEgv_A7iFf0yqek7vsOtrW89deEp5FL2KMVn49Gpq3K5oQqauiyUG1ACn0qkqpNz4Cw1jH1wpNdGsatPHiGZS34sMdFpe41gBfCa0yjpTfRtV5U1KCgx4s21IbIMHnHkFq4_GVCE4Py/s1600/swimiing+horse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561094648062517394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh32LEgv_A7iFf0yqek7vsOtrW89deEp5FL2KMVn49Gpq3K5oQqauiyUG1ACn0qkqpNz4Cw1jH1wpNdGsatPHiGZS34sMdFpe41gBfCa0yjpTfRtV5U1KCgx4s21IbIMHnHkFq4_GVCE4Py/s400/swimiing+horse.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My amazing bride has been riding horses since she was a wee nine years of age. For the first three years, she happily walked, trotted and cantered a herd of nippy school ponies. However, the first hoofed beast that she could call her very own was a pristine 600 pound white Welsh pony named Suzanne who was given to her by a kindly old gentlemen in Pennsylvania.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />When my wife was fourteen her family moved to the North Fork of Long Island to a gorgeous home, barely a quarter mile from the Sound.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />The pony lived in the families attached two car garage. My wife would brush her for hours, ride her through the country-side like this were the dream come true that it was. They trail rode through the Long Island potato fields and sod farms, galloping through man-made rain storms generated mammoth irrigation systems.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />And... being so close to the salty sound, they'd also walk to the stony beach just down the paved road and swim ... more-like a pair of free range fish than than pony and rider. The photo is one of their actual sunset swims with my wife (a teenage version), pony and a shark-like Black Lab named <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dutches</span>. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-66669970874882695402010-12-31T14:04:00.000-08:002010-12-31T14:35:18.061-08:00The Lords of the Winter Hay Stomp<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHYPA90XDAJmimmTXFQn28iuw0pylbFjgbbCFu-jV_OKM-JKVxzbcdHNpqZypJszZ2WIbBw6f4cfYfykET_qsMo1TLJw0-2P1_yeMWaW4x85kI7GlQlCFJs2Bsc7OkBx1UL_jhv4LhrMz/s1600/More+horse+photos+001.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 227px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556971705075605874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHYPA90XDAJmimmTXFQn28iuw0pylbFjgbbCFu-jV_OKM-JKVxzbcdHNpqZypJszZ2WIbBw6f4cfYfykET_qsMo1TLJw0-2P1_yeMWaW4x85kI7GlQlCFJs2Bsc7OkBx1UL_jhv4LhrMz/s320/More+horse+photos+001.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div>On blustery winter days, turn out involves leading horses to the pastures while trudging our heavy insulated boots through deep tundra like snow, defrosting frozen lead rope snaps by exhaling warm air onto them and frequently fixing wind blown blankets (not unlike folding multiple flags in a wind tunnel). As the last remnants of the sleeping autumn grass hides under layers of frozen water (aka snow), we have to lug hay to the pastures via the kids old red plastic sleds.<br /><br />There is a wild dance of sorts involved with the turn out this time of year. We scatter flakes of hay around the pastures and then walk each horse out one by one. Shane stomps out first and has his only temporary choice of the vast universe of hay piles. Evelyn dances out next and despite a variety of unoccupied piles will, with little variation, go for the dried timothy pile that Shane is munching on ... who quickly is forced to move to one of the other hay piles on a safer side of the pasture. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Bobbie is then turned out next which disrupts the temporary equine equilibrium. With ears pinned way back, he immediately goes for the pile occupied by Evelyn, forcing her to the flakes being munched on by Shane, forcing Shane to yet another still unoccupied flake pile.<br /><br />Periodically, Bobbie, with a strand of timothy dangling from the side of his muzzle, like a tango dancer with a rose, will inexplicably and suddenly change his hay preference and begin the tango once again forcing Evelyn then Shane to rotate around the pasture like an uneasy violent tango.<br /><br />Dion and Monte have their own pasture and there own variation of the dance. Monte heads into the pasture first and will gallop quickly around the hay, bucking with all four feet off the ground. Monte then find the deepest snow drift he can find and drops and spin like a break dancer (see photo of break dancing Dion and Monte-- which doesn't do it justice) until he's properly floured into prehistoric sized powdered donut. Seemingly shaken by the sudden coldness on his body, he jumps up, bucks and dances around until he too settles on a pile of hay.<br /><br />When it's Dion's turn, he will tow whoever dares lead him out to the pasture, with the strength of a Budweiser Clydesdale (it's similar to snow skiing tied to a pack of elephants). When he quickly is let loose in the pasture, Dion will breeze around like the former race horse he was, whipping Monte and the hay piles into a frosty tornado until the storm dance abruptly stops and heads drop to the hay carnage strewn about the pasture.<br /><br />If anyone of the equine Arthur Millers misses a step or stumbles, not to worry, they'll get another chance to perfect their craft tomorrow.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-39205520360069957042010-12-27T19:07:00.000-08:002010-12-30T16:30:56.259-08:00The Best Horse Movies Ever<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfUKhbxuRZMbI8tUe6S8mVr1YJV_W_6Xfbo1sqMdGuOWDXtab5u1Jc4gOKuMyaDgtLEWxPODGxBCaEbJp2c_C9W_ZvNLztllfRITGa6FQGpsLYHEDVOKxJG0nbx8qmJJfoXd-BHVVzowf/s1600/More+horse+photos+009.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556637210456663586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfUKhbxuRZMbI8tUe6S8mVr1YJV_W_6Xfbo1sqMdGuOWDXtab5u1Jc4gOKuMyaDgtLEWxPODGxBCaEbJp2c_C9W_ZvNLztllfRITGa6FQGpsLYHEDVOKxJG0nbx8qmJJfoXd-BHVVzowf/s320/More+horse+photos+009.JPG" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div>On these wild, cold and snowy Syracuse nights (we had a 10 below windchill this morning), there's nothing better than hunkering in with a bowl of hot popcorn, a warm blanket and a GREAT movie. OK... the hunkering comes a little after we hammer on frozen water buckets for an hour. The list below clearly represents the best horse movies ever (in my humble and slightly frostbitten opinion). Of course, there is just the "smidgen" (not a word I use everyday) of a chance that you may disagree.<br /><br />10) <strong>Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron</strong> (Awesome!)<br /><br />9) <strong>Into the West</strong> (Most obscure movie on the list -- This is a movie you should see)<br /><br />8) <strong>The Black Stallion</strong> (Great)<br /><br />7) <strong>Hidalgo</strong> (What a story!)<br /><br />6) <strong>Secretariat</strong> (Haven't seen it yet ... heard it was good... Yes... I'm cheating on this one)<br /><br />5) <strong>Black Beauty</strong> (A classic)<br /><br />4) <strong>Justin Morgan Had a Horse</strong> (On the Wonderful World of Disney when I was 7 ... it counts)<br /><br />3) <strong>The Horse Whisperer</strong> (A chick flick with horses)<br /><br />2) <strong>National Velvet</strong> (A classic)<br /><br />1) <strong>Seabiscut</strong> (Great Movie... Great Book ... Great Horse)</div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-7335730163958075152010-12-24T17:26:00.000-08:002010-12-24T17:30:31.463-08:00Twas the Night Before Christmas -- Horse Edition<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMxQBxLPVh5heL5Tn2wbFYRKF_51iRNG3ciuT4VSx6r8x6NhgMpW_6NL26lPr2i8c8EMALEOiNjcG6ncYwCuoZiE6n-VfjF840fUbOQ9MpfoVFBELVkPxMZoZKXXylj36ke8hQjbt79zh/s1600/bobbieandsanta.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554426005846505218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnMxQBxLPVh5heL5Tn2wbFYRKF_51iRNG3ciuT4VSx6r8x6NhgMpW_6NL26lPr2i8c8EMALEOiNjcG6ncYwCuoZiE6n-VfjF840fUbOQ9MpfoVFBELVkPxMZoZKXXylj36ke8hQjbt79zh/s320/bobbieandsanta.png" /></a><br /><div>Twas the night before Christmas<br />And I believed all through the stable<br />Not a creature was stirring<br />As we watched football on cable<br /><br />When who should it be that knocked on our door<br />But Bobbie the pony plus horses times four<br /><br />They looked peaceful and coy<br />We did puzzle and gawk<br />Bobbie opened his muzzle<br />And then tried to talk<br /><br />The pony cleared his throat<br />Then started to speak<br />"<em>You've cleaned all the stalls<br />While they stunk and did wreak<br /><br />You've brushed and bathed us<br />You've fed us fine hay<br />For all of that kindness<br />We give you gifts on this day</em>"<br /><br />Of course I think of cash<br />My bride hopes chaps<br />Bobbie stomps his hoof down<br />And we're back from our lapse<br /><br />"<em>For you kind lady<br />We give you our trust<br />We know you've been there<br />When we've danced and we've fussed<br /><br />And we give you our hearts<br />With our long lasting love<br />With us you have friends<br />Cause you're a gift from above"<br /><br />"And for you Mr. Sir<br />We have what you need</em>"<br />Yes, I'm still thinking money<br />to fulfill my long greed<br /><br />Bobbie snorted and mused<br />As if he knew all my thinking<br />He spoke once again<br />With his big left eye winking<br /><br />"<em>This prize is well suited<br />Your gift is a kick<br />You expected fruit cake?<br />I ain't no Saint Nick<br /><br />Yes you check all our water<br />But you gripe and you grumble<br />Yes you give us some treats<br />But you swear while you mumble<br /><br />Your gift is the choice<br />If it was you or the horse<br />It's not even close<br />She'd pick us, Yes of course<br /><br />So your gift is that choice<br />It's quite simple and sweet<br />You can stop all the grumble<br />or be out on the street</em>"<br /><br />I looked at my wife<br />She looked at her shoes<br />She started to giggle<br />I followed the clues<br /><br />As I behaved from that day<br />The pony never again spoke<br />Except for this phrase<br />That I knew was no joke<br /><br />"<em>From Bobbie and All"<br /></em>For this he did cite<br />"<em>Merry Christmas to all<br />And to all a good night</em>!"<br /><br /><br />I apologize to Mr. Clement Moore<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em></em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-22514806470598398772010-12-18T18:43:00.001-08:002010-12-18T19:05:52.925-08:00A Bread Crazy German in America<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4u-IWCgsdRw59yORVLkuSgVuV9DRcC4w67Up_-pVyZDhijEph9mRnFfiDc-LBNMpIDwl85Tfwnxd8qVO67OvUQi7D04GwrUEfZP1XmiITQSdD5pTzRnwsCScBxMtq2kXbtQynQpCc5A2/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552218945880075138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4u-IWCgsdRw59yORVLkuSgVuV9DRcC4w67Up_-pVyZDhijEph9mRnFfiDc-LBNMpIDwl85Tfwnxd8qVO67OvUQi7D04GwrUEfZP1XmiITQSdD5pTzRnwsCScBxMtq2kXbtQynQpCc5A2/s320/008.JPG" /></a><br />We've had more pounding snow this week ... measured with yard sticks not rulers.<br /><br />It normally takes me 45 minutes for my drive home from work each night. This week, as a result of the snow, I had two nightly drives of 1.5 hours and one that took close to 2 hours. That night I'd been gazing at tail lights and snow flakes for two hours which can be hypnotizing. For part of the drive I was thinking back on the blogs I'd been reading recently.<br /><br />I remembered reading "A Horse Crazy American in Germany". She noted that when moving her horse to Germany, her horse was going to have to get accustomed to eating bread. Apparently, it's been common for centuries to feed horses bread in Germany.<br /><br />One of our 5 horses is a mammoth 18-2 Hanoverian named Monte who was actually born in Germany. We never actually met his owner ... but he was shipped with a his passport (he has one ... I don't), a box of raisins and a note that said "he likes raisins". So, he gets raisins. He flips out when he gets the box, acting like a goof swinging his head and tongue around like he's experiencing extreme equine ecstasy.<br /><br />Remembering the blog, I decided to give him half a slice of bread ... same reaction ... like he was remembering his youthful days frolicking with some Fraulein Phillie in Frankfurt. He loved the bread. However, his boorish American siblings were not as crazed about the bread.<br /><br />Note: if you're going to try bread with your horses ... you may want to Google "feeding horses bread" <em>No, not everyone in the world is convinced bread is a good idea</em>.<br /><br />That being said, I think perhaps I'll try Monte with some raisin bread. I'll probably put the poor guy into a coma. I just Googled "feeding horses raisins." See above disclaimer and substitute "raisins" for "bread".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-45534548996400453282010-12-11T17:16:00.000-08:002010-12-12T08:56:44.539-08:00We Live in a Giant Snow Ball<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtBlpCevqIXPzaA2T4_87SpTNDu-78UncSsBEFyagj8IiEvcBiBuiZyDXwPEbFMw18VWripYvHLEk6k1T9k_spfYkhmS0UbimNaz5T6psCZX-cMQvCjPXGqBMIxHX8txaSd8dFF6iS8gcw/s1600/IMGP4135.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSQFdfys6M8KpCz-30jwgAfKzXsM3iSlGG7AJQPouKTHihKs1QYdqT8b-6lSVX8cOdZoXl6XgvQW_DqvGRdL0EYf4o_lu_8ncfTnANYNzYeWv3xDZyoJCvJ1zZGhf8rWX_s3Wp-XmzmjQ/s1600/IMGP4136.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549831028688500754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSQFdfys6M8KpCz-30jwgAfKzXsM3iSlGG7AJQPouKTHihKs1QYdqT8b-6lSVX8cOdZoXl6XgvQW_DqvGRdL0EYf4o_lu_8ncfTnANYNzYeWv3xDZyoJCvJ1zZGhf8rWX_s3Wp-XmzmjQ/s200/IMGP4136.JPG" /></a>Just off the east end of Lake Ontario, Syracuse New York (the area we live and survive in) annually averages 121 inches of snow. The last few sadistic winters have been closer to 150 or 200. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The recent snows you may have heard about on the national news (we don't brag about much but snow) helped push us to almost 50 inches through December 10th of this year.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My son had 2 snow days off from school and the horses stayed warm inside their cozy stalls for 3 straight days. This of course make stall cleaning more challenging ... but at least we don't have to worry about our wimpy thoroughbreds freaking out because a couple of flakes hit their muzzles just wrong or the wind messed their manes up. A bunch of divas those thoroughbreds are ... always asking for limos, fruit trays and bottled imported<span style="color:#ffff00;"> </span>room temperature water.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When it starts snowing and blowing, we can't get to our pastures the normal and easy way because we have an eight foot snow drift that drops right in the middle of the desired path. So, when the snow is not blowing sideways, for winter turnout we have to walk the long way around and normally take down some rails to get the horses in. Yesterday, I built a gate to eliminate the rail removal portion of the process. I talk more about our winter snow struggles in my February 2010 post "Equine Snow Angel": </div><div></div><div><a href="http://bobbienosocks.blogspot.com/2010/02/equine-snow-angel.html">http://bobbienosocks.blogspot.com/2010/02/equine-snow-angel.html</a></div><br /><div></div><div>When I went into our shed to get some gate materials, I scared the walnuts out of a squirrel who in turn scared the crap out of me. Apparently, he'd be nesting in the shed for the winter ... the whole thing led me to have an odd dream last night about a talking squirrel, with a trash mouth and anger issues.</div><br /><div>Anyway ... we thankfully have a little warm up today. The saying in Syracuse is ... If you don't like the weather ... just wait a couple of hours. There's a big ice storm coming.<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-19634464828652350792010-12-03T20:45:00.000-08:002010-12-04T12:21:33.747-08:00Frigid Night Checks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2D37DBEFxrq-SRPbfO77Q2feF_-p2GDpJy0HwRK7YkMy3-7d6HMuvRBCzssUlwT8BVTeg-9I0kUHrwNEiRlCDbSLA3qg9Ese1QrfRjateZfC7mfDC-78-PNZuRT-fCLg_jnuN418hF6c/s1600/IMG00158%255B1%255D.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 138px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 106px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546922871623437202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2D37DBEFxrq-SRPbfO77Q2feF_-p2GDpJy0HwRK7YkMy3-7d6HMuvRBCzssUlwT8BVTeg-9I0kUHrwNEiRlCDbSLA3qg9Ese1QrfRjateZfC7mfDC-78-PNZuRT-fCLg_jnuN418hF6c/s200/IMG00158%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtwoTJljrSY5eSS2DmlMVqDWdoofV5lNJVesrtmyDvqv_VE3LdSt9rXGy6sxy3YFTBHlhTXKdZSFOa_lXuKkiXlZvNtPqx2W_iCfFkMckNrvs8cETXjYU9dlFRpU8D3wc_1zYXVOOSUwV/s1600/189.JPG"></a><br />It's 25 degrees and snowing on our tiny chunk of the planet tonight.<br /><br />Part of my self imposed function with the horses are the nightly checks. On summer nights I can walk to the barn in 5 minutes in shorts and flip flops. In the winter, it may take 5 minutes alone just to find my gloves. Eventually the 25 degree nights become 15 degree nights. Fifteen degrees soon yields to 5 degrees which becomes negative 5 ... with a windchill of 35 below zero.<br /><br />Night checks themselves are simple enough for me. I just check the water (sometimes needing to break the water with a hammer), adjust the blankets (sometimes needing to fix the buckles with a hammer), drop each horse a mint or carrot and make sure that no horse is suffering from colic, casting or bed wetting (equine bed wetting, of course, is a common incurable affliction).<br /><br />Our whole family actually loves snow ... crazy yes... but we love skiing and snowboarding as much as any family. Our kids, growing up, would even superstitiously wear their pajamas inside out magically guaranteeing a school snow day.<br /><br />However, opening our back door on a snowy and windy winter night for the long walk to the barn is like standing at the end of snow covered dock peering into an icy lake wearing only a bathing cap and a smile. <strong>Jump ... the waters fine.<br /><br /></strong>Gotta find my gloves!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-86563607832349129742010-11-26T12:02:00.000-08:002010-11-26T12:33:51.339-08:00Amusing Horse QuotesNever send a man to do a horse's job.<br /><br /><strong>- Mr. Ed</strong><br /><br /><br />“They think they can make fuel from horse manure - Now, I don't know if your car will be able to get 30 miles to the gallon, but it's sure gonna put a stop to siphoning” <br /><br /><strong>- Billie Holiday</strong><br /><br /><br />It's a lot like nuts and bolts - if the rider's nuts, the horse bolts!<br /><br /><strong>~Nicholas Evans</strong><br /><br /><br />If horses knew their strength we should not ride anymore.<br /><br /><strong>-Mark Twain</strong><br /><br /><br />The horse I bet on was so slow, the jockey kept a diary of the trip.<br /><br /><strong>- Henny Youngman</strong><br /><br /><br />Horses are uncomfortable in the middle and dangerous at both ends. <br /><br /><strong>- Attributed to both Christopher Stone and Ian Fleming</strong><br /><br /><br />One way to stop a runaway horse is to bet on him.<br /><br /><strong>- Jeffrey Bernard</strong><br /><br /><br />I can make a General in five minutes but a good horse is hard to replace. <br /><br /><strong> - Abraham Lincoln </strong> <br /><br /><br />No matter what you weigh, the little fellow is your equal on a horse.<br /><br /><strong>- Will Rogers</strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-34058696774459662222010-11-14T10:36:00.000-08:002010-12-04T12:21:56.298-08:00What Makes Me Happy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHQ7cjeZRWQ9GcuLaGGXzCjdrJcamxqfc-YSJQN2TYs3pFvjn-Eew8eyZ8_9PudILW5HcxqJsx4BleSXrR6Bc01xLDcq6SYi7bflAy5ydOg6QeDqfqCfLravnY4CbEDdKUdiaNX6omab2/s1600/189.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 145px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 83px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546923403652818210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHQ7cjeZRWQ9GcuLaGGXzCjdrJcamxqfc-YSJQN2TYs3pFvjn-Eew8eyZ8_9PudILW5HcxqJsx4BleSXrR6Bc01xLDcq6SYi7bflAy5ydOg6QeDqfqCfLravnY4CbEDdKUdiaNX6omab2/s200/189.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I'm frequently asked by the curious non-equestrians at work, "How often do you ride?" My typical responses are "Me ... Oh ... not since the Nixon administration" or "They don't let the wretched ride."<br /><br />The truth be known, I did ride almost daily while courting my wife 23 years ago. She was teaching riding lessons and I was taking riding lessons so I could actually see her when she wasn't exhausted. She even convinced me to go into a little schooling show. True story: I almost ran over the judge and then cut off a 75 year old woman in a flat class causing her to fall from her mount. After my primary rival was taken away in an ambulance, I got second in the class, much better than I expected.<br /><br />I now rarely get on a horse...maybe every 5 years or so if the stars line up just so. Yes, it usually does take 5 years to recover. Even when I do ride, it on the pony Bobbie. I'm 6 foot 2. If he starts getting fresh, all I have to do is straighten my legs and he just trots out from under me.<br /><br />Truth also be known that none of this is or was ever about me. The quicker I came to that realization the better. My role is cleaning stalls on the weekends, picking up the feed at the store, doing night checks, trailering horses here and there, fixing stuff, helping with turn out and yes paying some bills. The horses are as much about me as breathing is about smelling the flowers. I'm only a side benefit that comes with the entree.<br /><br />However, I love (and I do mean love) to watch my wife and daughter ride. The horse and either rider float so effortlessly around the ring with such grace and beauty that it's almost like a spiritual type of experience for me. OK ... before you think spiritual in the sense that I'm channeling my long dead fore fathers ... no ... nothing Casper the Friendly Ghost here.<br /><br />Watching them ride somehow makes me feel like I'm part of something bigger.<br />I always have to stop and watch for a moment. I'm always at least tempted to grab a camera. I always get tears in my eyes.<br /><br />It's not truly about their riding either. Yes, my wife and daughter both are accomplished riders and no I don't get the same feeling watching others ride (that would be weird), no matter how good they are. I do, however, get the same feeling watching my son snowboard effortlessly over powered snow. See the Link...<br /><br /><a href="http://bobbienosocks.blogspot.com/2010/03/eating-dirt.html">http://bobbienosocks.blogspot.com/2010/03/eating-dirt.html</a><br /><br />The watery eyes, the spirituality, the sappy stories do not come because of the beauty of the ride of horse or snowboard or because I live to peal onions.<br /><br />It comes because someone I love is doing something something they love. It makes them happy beyond happy, which makes me happy beyond happy.<br /><br />Ride Happy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-71769868833572344022010-11-11T03:08:00.000-08:002010-11-12T17:32:39.006-08:00Ode (or Odor) to Stall CleaningThere's no way around it.<br />The poop just keeps coming.<br />You clean stalls every day.<br />While horses clean their plumbing.<br /><br />No shavings aren't that cheap<br />You shake and toss and sift<br />Your backs about to break<br />What the heck was that I sniffed.<br /><br />This ain't no perfume factory<br />The urine reeks and ranks<br />What did that horse drink<br />A thousand water tanks?<br /><br />It's like any of life's struggles<br />Where should I begin<br />This stalls a wicked mess<br />There's no way I'll ever win<br /><br />But persistence wins the day<br />Each poop I find and pick<br />The stall is finally clean<br />And I avoided getting sick<br /><br />Tomorrow starts anew<br />The crap will drop and roll<br />I plead to my horse Friends <br />Just use a Toilet BowlUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-75192582703308049882010-11-07T21:55:00.000-08:002010-11-11T05:21:06.050-08:00The Wet Pasture DerbyThe horses had been in for a few days because of the rain we've been getting this week. As a result, they were all freakish at turn out yesterday, dancing all the way to pasture as if they were 2 year old race horses, not the 13 to 26 year old Geritol jumpers that they are. <br /><br />When released from their lead ropes they'd all canter out to mid pasture, drop, roll, race around a little more, buck with all four feet off the ground and then gradually put their heads down to graze. Everything was actually fairly predictable until Czar Bobbie, the tiniest terror of all, was turned out. <br /><br />At first, he too dropped, rolled and bucked. However, after his final leap, he took off like a turbo charged Secretariat chasing the other horses around his personal killing field like he were an evil barbarian Hun looking for the fresh peasant kill. <br /><br />The other horses on typical day would be spooked by as little as deer, kites, umbrellas or a Republican landslide election (Yes, horses, by nature are very liberal creatures). However, this time the fear was more primal as if they were the antelope being hunted by the "mini me" lion.<br /><br />McGuiver would have defused the Bobbie bomb with some chewing gum and dental floss. However, his services weren't needed here. After 15 minutes or so, an uneasy calm returned to pasture. <br /><br />Unfortunately, you never know when the angelic creatures of calm will return to the wild beasts of turmoil. We often have talked about having a bucket of grain in clear box by the pasture with a sign that said, "For emergency break glass. Hurl grain towards the little one."<br /><br />We've all survived another day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-90398399439307188302010-10-31T11:42:00.000-07:002010-10-31T12:11:23.752-07:00Icy Horse HalloweenHalloween played a cool little trick today with some icy snow, not so gently falling from the heavens. Clearly there must have been a cold front moving through heaven. I picture angels bundled like Green Bay Packer fans with icicles dangling from their wings and frost on the halos (or probably on their cheese heads at game time). <br /><br />Today the horses are all bundled in blankets. They wanted to go out regardless and are now munching on freshly chilled grass in the pasture. "Frost on the Pumpkins" is a phrase you hear around here a lot and we've been using it this year since mid-September. <br /><br />As I took a wheel barrow of manure out to dump, my fingers burned from the cold and I was quickly reminded that I needed to get new barn gloves. My old ones were thrown out on a warm day last spring. "I'll get new gloves", I can remember announcing to the world as if I were moving from the Cavaliers to the Miami Heat. Of course 90 degree days in the summer aren't always the best for marketers of winter apparel. They do seem to be good marketer's of the Miami Heat. <br /><br />You know you live in Central New York, when parents annually jam snowsuits under their kids spiderman and princess costumes. Yes, they'll be a lot of overstuffed miniature ghosts prowling for candy tonight. <br /><br />Time to throw another coal in the fire. Time to defrost the candy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-43417912651683184002010-10-29T19:12:00.000-07:002010-10-29T19:41:04.111-07:00Pay Back Time -- She's Sick NowOK ... now is truly the time that we separate the men from the boys. Yes, I was sick for a few days. Yes, my wife waited on me hand and foot. I had the life of home made chicken noodle soup. My medicine and tissues were brought to me like I was the Prince of Persia. I had hours of rest and relaxation. <br /><br />Yet, all of that's over now. It's all a distant memory. I'm better, cured and she's the one now with the horrific cold and the fluid filled chest. I'm the one bringing her cold medicine, tissues and providing the foot rubs. Surely, I'd be the one making her home made chicken noodle soup, if she wasn't a vegetarian. Sadly, Tofu noodle soup just lacks the taste and medicinal qualities... of it's poultry laced cousin. <br /><br />Oh and don't forget... I'm also the one take care of five horses before I go to work in the morning. I'm handling the hay, the grain, the endless supplements that I need a cheat sheet to dole out, the turn out, the stall cleaning and the sweeping of the barn. Like the Marines, I do (or did) more before 6 am than you do all day. OK ... OK ... make that 9 AM. But, still it's my pay back. <br /><br />Days like this are the days when I truly realize what a sainted woman this is that I married. She does this everyday, 7 days a week, every freaking day of the year. She only gets breaks when I help her on the weekends and on the off chance we actually go away for a real vacation every couple of years or decades. <br /><br /><strong>She needs more breaks</strong>... heck, I did it by myself today. One day and I need a break.<br /><br />I know what you're thinking. Stop being a baby! You have a horse or two or thirty at your home ... you live this. I feel sorry for you. Yes, you're all saints. You all need vacations ...or at a minimum... get a freaking cold once in a while so you can finally get that break you need. <br /><br />Gotta go... she needs another tissue.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-58055381711113379142010-10-25T09:42:00.000-07:002010-10-29T17:52:11.420-07:00A Horse... Is it worth it?We question ourselves quite often with the whole horse thing. Are we crazy? Clearly "yes" is the quick answer. If you're kid was interested in softball, it'd cost only the price of a glove, a bat, some balls and maybe a $50 annual fee for the league. If it was bug collecting, I'd buy a %10,000 bug net and still come out ahead.<br /><br />With horses, the glove becomes a Pessoa saddle, the Louisville Slugger - a $500 riding helmet, the Rawlings balls become a $40,000 plus horse or two and the $50 annual fee becomes trainer fees, boarding, shoes, etc, etc and etc. Yes, NASCAR or golfing on the moon probably beats this. Yet, people who think Hockey or golf or skiing is expensive haven't got a clue what an expensive sport really is. <br /><br />The question remains. Is it worth it? I can tell you only this. After riding since she was three, my daughter, now 19, is one of the most confident people I know. She's thinking about either medical school or a degree in business. She's dedicated her life to horses and thus she's stayed away from some of the typical teenage temptations. She handles herself extremely well with all types of people, whether young or old, nice or nasty or rich and poor. She was extremely busy growing up which taught her unbelievable organizational skills.<br /><br />Could that have happened if we'd said "NO" more often, maybe. However, while it's expensive and at points we'd have to say we couldn't swing this or that, as a parent you search hard for the things that your child will be passionate about, whether track, softball, acting or (gulp) horses. If you find that one thing... that one very special thing that supersedes all, you've won. <br /><br />The answer is that you have to figure all this out for yourself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-31749649840724659182010-10-24T09:45:00.000-07:002010-11-11T05:24:02.240-08:00Sick TodayI'm sick today with a bad cold and some chest congestion. Yesterday, I helped my wife clean stalls through that hacking and wheezing. Today's a different day. Maybe if I stayed quiet yesterday, I wouldn't be seeing the loving light at the end of a long tunnel today. <br /><br />The guilt maybe the worse part of being sick on a horse farm. My wife cares for the horses all week and only gets of a bit of a break on weekends when I help her with the stalls. Not only does she not get the slight break, she's trying to nurse the prince of wimpyness (that's me) back to health. She's actually on her way to store now to buy stuff to make chicken noodle soup. "You don't have to," I wheezed out through a congested airway to no avail. She ignored me a usual and went anyway.<br /><br />Who knows? I'm glad I'm not a sick horse.<br /><br />If I'm sick, I can pretty much tell people where and how I'm ailing (and believe me I don't hold back). For horses, Vets have to be sleuth-like Sherlock Holmeses to deduce the virus or injury crimes by following the clues. Instead of following the money trail, finger prints or trail of broken hearts, they follow by listening to heart, belly and breathing of the sicko horse patients. They'll look at the poop, watch for biting at the sides, do pinch tests, nerve tests, watch for oozing or dozing or pacing or panting. <br /><br />Vets will do anything, stick their arms up horses butts, stick tubes of concoctions (eye of newt and wolf bane come to mind) down their throats... all in the interest of helping to ease the discomfort of a frequently irate and often ungrateful patient. <br /><br />We've had horses with colic so bad that it took forty feet of intestine removal and a$6,000 charge. Yes, we have insurance now. <br /><br />We had horses that could barely stand due to hoof abscesses. It's good for them to walk, the vet would say, but it pained us to watch.<br /><br />Ooh just thew up in the back of my throat. Yes, it stinks to be sick.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3300077998071874548.post-44430164551400744962010-10-22T22:46:00.000-07:002010-10-23T07:44:19.796-07:00Top 10 Reasons to Own a Horse10) You didn't need your toes anyway.<br />9) Cash ... It's just plain over-rated<br />8) They just don't make poop, like horse poop ... just ask my dog.<br />7) Horse chiropractors, horse psychics and horse dentists ... jobs to cool to be real. <br />6) Flies ... need I say more.<br />5) The stress keeps me lean and agile.<br />4) I love those rewards points from my Vet, Farrier and hay deliver guy.<br />3) Cool equi-vocab words are killer at parties... oxer, martingale, two-stride, in and out, hock.<br />2) Horse Snot ... life just doesn't getter better. Yes ... Living the Dream<br />1) Dover Catalogs are so much better than Victoria Secret<br /><br />Perhaps you have some other suggestions for the list... send me a quick comment let me know your thoughts.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0