The Little Mare that stole my heart...Dumas Little Darlin', Champion Tennessee Walking Horse Mare

She was fourteen years old, and came back to Valley City to spend her much deserved retirement.  A shy and aloof mare not necessarily wanting to be handled or caught to halter or groom.  But as it came to pass, I made huge strides with her.  Never rushing, always touching her a I called "Hey Miss Reba" and slowly drew my hand up to her head to place her blue halter on.  I would always reward her with a piece of apple or carrot.  At first she was not interested in the treats, but would take them if I placed them in her feed bucket on top of her feed.  She was a finicky eater but after having the equine dentist come for a few visits, her eating became very good and her ribs covered over and her coat was sleek.  The equine chiropractor was very kind to her and came every three months to do an adjustment on her hips, pelvis, spine and neck and shoulders as well as her legs.  I loved that dear little soul and she finally got to the point that I could walk up to her outside in pasture and put a lead on and walk her back into the barn at night.  A little over two years ago she came home and always would stand outside on the pasture side of Gold Star's Stall window after she was done grazing for the afternoon. They were in fact good buddies and you could count on seeing her just standing at rest outside of his window until he was let out into the pasture.

A very strange occurance happened during the night.  Gold Star escaped from his stall with both stall guards in place...I don't know how, but he must have been out all night.  When I arrived at the barn this morning to feed the three boys I found him standing over Reba's body.  He looked back at me and did not move.  Very touching and very spiritual too!  Horses have souls, and it is up to us to nurture them.


August 27, 2012 8:00 p.m.

Sad night last night when I went to the barn (next door). Reba was down in her stall and there was no getting her up. I called four or five friends and didn't get any answers on their phones, just voicemail. I kneeled down next to her and realized that this was the last time I would try to help her up. There was no strength left in her body to push or get in a upright position. The arthritis ...

had taken it's toll. She apprently stumbled turning in her stall and went down in the doorway. She looked up at me as if to say, "I'm done, let me go". It was a hard thing to do, calling to reach her owner who was in center ring at the Walking Horse Celebration in Tennessee last night. A mutual friend got in touch with him and he called me immediately saying "I'm sorry you have to be there to do this". I called Dr. Wiley who had given his equine practice up, but thankfully said he would come right over to administer the drugs to allow her to cross the Rainbow Bridge and be free of anymore struggling. I sat next to her holding her head up and fed her little bites of carrot until he came. She went peacefully as I stroked her head. She was a grand mare, winning many many ribbons and producing four foals for Bruce and Linda. Sweet Dreams Reba, and a peaceful goodnight!

August 28, 2012, 9:30 a.m.





Reba has been laid to rest in the corner of the pasture nearest to Charvat's property. I wanted her there because it is in the shade of a large tree.


Dan and Dave Crocker came almost right away. Sarah came from dropping Daniel off at school and she was the one to take off Reba's halter and she climbed down into the grave and spread a clean sheet on the bottom so she wouldn't be laying on the dirt, and then she positioned her legs so they would be ready to run. Then she covered her with another clean sheet and clean horse blanket and gave her the two apples I brought out for her journey.

Jerry came over in case we needed help and Frank, Maggie's husband came too. It was very professionally done and now She is quiet, peaceful and free of pain.

God's speed Reba, God's speed.

The Hoosier State...and their hospitality

I just returned from a trip to the Hoosier State.  Specifically, Edinburgh, Indiana at the Johnson County Horse Park (or the Hoosier Horse Park, site of the 19_ _ something and the facility was built for the  Pan Am Games.  In it's day it was a beauty and it is still "servicably sound" more or less, but dang it is dusty and dirty.  The maintenance crew does the best they can with what they have to work with, but (or maybe not) the last day was the kicker.  I had to ask that the manure bins located in the front (10 feet away) of the stalls be emptied, as it was overflowing.  In the process of emptying the large bin (the size of an enormous pasture water trough) the bobcat and it's operator drove over our hose.  Said hose was connected to the hydrant at the end of the barn and lying next to the chain link fence that separated the horse park from the road.  As Sarah was leaving the ring on Saturday after showing a horse she noticed this bobcat driving down the road with a strangely familiar looking green hose attached to it's underside and trailing lots of feet of hose behind.  The driver appeared to be oblivious to this phenomenon and went merrily on his way.  Sarah chased him down, other exhibitors were yelling and waving their arms to no avail.

A heated discussion led to "I will have you banned from showing on these grounds"! (I think not) and then the feud calmed down due to Sarah's negotiating skills kicking in, and shaking of hands occured.  The hose was wrapped four times around the axle, torn from it's coupling (thereby rendering the other hoses worthless with no way to shut off the flow) and so we were "Short Hosed" for the rest of the day.

The next day the young man appeared at the stalls, new green hose in hand and apologized for the incident etc.  He said that when he got home and told his wife of the incident, she yelled at him too!

A new green hose is better than no hose as the story goes....

Women everywhere unite!

My inconclusive travel plans 2012 .......

I have been in many places, but I've never been in Cahoots. Apparently, you can't go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.

I've also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.

I have, however, been in Sane.

They don't have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends, family and work.

I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I'm not too much on physical activity anymore.

I have also been in Doubt. That is a sad place to go, and I try not to visit there too often.

I've been in Flexible, but only when it was very important to stand firm.

Sometimes I'm in Capable, and I go there more often as I'm getting older.

One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenalin flowing and pumps up the old heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get!

I may have been in Continent, and I don't remember what country I was in. It's an age thing.

PLEASE DO YOUR PART!

Today is one of the many National Mental Health Days throughout the year.

Turn Loose the Horses

Monica Vlna was laid to rest today at the Strongsville Cemetary.  A sunny breezy day brought her friends and family to the graveside.  After the Priest said his words he said "Monica wanted this music played".
This was chosen by her daughter Dawn.  The ironic thing is this:  Her horses are always getting loose.  Sarah, Kevin amd Kelly were always looking out the windows and saying "Monica and Mark's horses are loose again".

The thing about the funeral that brought a lump to my throat and the tears to my eyes  was when someone brought a saddle rack, Monica's western saddle and her boots and placed them at the head of the casket.

It does'nt get much more poignant than that.

"Turn Loose The Horses"

I look down that winding road

I needed rest and a place to go

Sick and tired of running round

Flying high and falling down

I'm gonna leave these blues behind

For some other fool to find

He won't care and I won't mind

I can't lose what was not mine



Turn loose all the horses and watch them run

Take time to take in the setting sun

Throw back a keeper just to watch them swim

Forgive your enemies and love your friends



Life goes wrong it feels like too much bang

Surely broken hearts are gonna love again

I guess if your heart's torn around the seams

Just think about your favorite pair of faded blue jeans

And on and on about the things gone wrong

Every day it feels like the same old song

Poor tortured souls trying to pay their dues

But life's no fun when dreams don't come true



Turn loose all the horses and watch them run

Take time to take in the setting sun

Throw back a keeper just to watch him swim

Forgive your enemies and love your friends



Turn loose all the horses and watch them run

Take time to take in the setting sun

Throw back a keeper just to watch him swim

Forgive your enemies and love your friends

Talk is cheap and other bargains

I have been holding my thoughts and feelings in since I had my "episode".  I haven't talked about the fears, the stress, the anxiety, the embarressment, and the anger. Yes I am angry that this happened to me.  I am angry that it has made me afraid to live and afraid to die.

Yesterday was the day...finally I was at the end of my last nerve.  I did not realize that I have been testy, snappy, sullen or silent.  Apparently, I have been the only person to "not know".  Have you walked the other way when you saw me coming?  If so, I apologize. 

If I tell you I am afraid...afraid when my heart races a bit, or starts to pound a little, afraid to go to sleep for fear I won't ever wake up, afraid to eat what is not "on the list" of things that are fat free, salt free, caffeine free or cholesterol free, afraid to exert myself, walk faster or even run, afraid that I didn't take the pills when I should that another attack would happen.  I am just plain afraid. 

My fear my seem irrational to all of you, but it is very real to me. What if?  What if indeed.  If I talked about my fears and my inability to have the stamina to go the whole day without sitting down and resting I felt like I was growing old at such a rapid pace that you all would put me in a "home".  Again, rational not, irrational perhaps, but the old adage "perception is reality" is what it is.

I know this is a "ramble" for a blog, but I am finally letting my guard down.  Monday I meet my new cardiologist and I hope to have answers to unasked questions.  There are way more fears going through my brain that I won't mention now, but you all get the drift.

I realized that the "Going Home"  instructions, like when I had babies, were a little sparse, like "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water" comment.  I wasn't told what I could and should or could not and should not do.  At least I don't remember.  I have read the brochures and pamphlets and still don't know.  Can I take a pain pill like Advil, Motron, Tylenol or not.  The prescription pamphlets are filled with "Danger and side effects" and they scare the crap out of me.  The bruising is painfull yet to be expected, I know, but how much is normal and when should I be concerned.

I don't ask questions of "Professionals" especially Drs.  They are the experts and if I needed to know something I assumed they would tell me.  The instructions "If you miss one Plavax, you will have another heart attack and we don't know if we will be able to save you" was the only instruction I remember. 
That put the fear of God into me.  So, I guess I will take a list of questions to the Dr. on Monday, because I won't ask otherwise.

I have not run my vacuum cleaner for two weeks.  The guilt alone of that non-act should put me in a coma.  My house looks like goats live here and quite frankly even though it bothers me a lot, I can't make myself do anything about it.  I have discovered "Wonder Woman" I am not.  That realization has me in a tailspin too!

I think I will change the name of my blog to "The Ravings of a Mad Housewife", or has that title been taken?

Thank you to Ellen, Sarah and Stephanie.  I really needed to talk about what is going through my brain and you all made me feel less ashamed for being cranky.  The meds added to the fear do not a pleasant cocktail make!

"Welcome Back...

.......Kotter", should be the title of this post.  I attended a fund raiser last night at the Eagles in Medina.

Realtor Political Action Committee puts on this fundraising dinner and live auction every year.

I have attended every event since I became a realtor 25 years ago.

Last night's function had a Pirate Theme (as opposed to the Margaritaville theme it has had for so many years.  Committee members came dressed as Pirates, but no Johnny Depp look- a- likes.  The food was good and it was catered by Terry Jones of Eileen's Catering (no more Eileen's Cafe and Catering, she sold the cafe) anyway, it was totally amazing to me that people came up to me and said "I just heard you had a heart attack, How are you?"

In Facebook, Texting etc vernacular...OMG!

I could not believe such a volume of people would come up and hug me, say they were so glad to see me, ask me how I was feeling, and on and on.  My friend Anita who also had her heart attack a week after me was there with her husband Russ and she and I felt like we truly mattered to people.

It was a very humbling experience.  Very humbling.  People I have known over the years who are professionals and who I have a professional relationship with, were just "gushy".

Unbelievable really.  I was very, very touched and thinking to myself.  "Glad to see you too....really!"

Welcome Back, Welcome Back, Welcome Back.

True Confessions - part Five

"Can I go home today?"
  "Let me check". 
"Not today, we can't get your blood pressure stabilized."
"Why not?"
"It takes awhile for the right dose of medicine."

And again, and again they pulled out the old blood pressure cuff.
Each time it squeezed and made black and blue bruises on my
upper arm.  The pediatric cuff was much more comfortable on
my forearm and very little bruising.  Still up and down, up and down.

How did I let this happen to me?  You see, I blame myself for not
seeing the signs.  However, I now understand the "signs" of this heart
attack coming were very subtle and slow.  Apparently, several years
have gone by since the blockage started and I just attributed my
 "slowing down" to my advancing age. 

Not so.  Apparently we all have the same frame of mind as we get older,
slowing down was a state of mind with me...just push harder, that's all
I needed to do.  My priority list was long and my energy was getting
short.

Here's the kicker...I am not Wonder Woman!
 I know, I found it hard to believe too!

Canadian Guard - April 15, 1987 - April 21, 2012

Above photo:  Ann Marie Burrows and Canadian Guard.

In Horse Years, this grand Half Arabian/Half Saddlebred Gelding was 25.  In Human Years, he was only with us for a very short time.  He was bred by Susan Racey Phillips, and owned by only three other people in his lifetime.  His owners were:  Elizabeth DeSarle, Laura Georgevich, and his last owner, Ann Marie Burrows.

I remember the first time I saw him.  I was spectating at the COSCA Roundup in Ashland, Ohio when the Half Arabian English Pleasure Class was called into the ring.  Among the entries was this "tall, dark and handsome" gelding ridden by a dark haired woman who I knew to be Laura Georgevich.  She had a wonderful ride on him, he performed beautifully with lovely manners and lots of motion.  As she took her Victory Pass along the rail, I spoke out to her..."If you ever want to sell that horse, I bet I can find him a home"!

Well, as it happened, a couple of years after that show, Laura gave me a call.  "Hey, I purchased aother horse, a paint mare, I am going in another direction show wise, so "Guard" is for sale.  Sarah and I got our heads together and we found a couple of lady prospects who might be interested.  Sarah's client, Ann Marie Burrows was indeed in the market for a new horse as she had just buried her beloved "Starrlite Bey".  All of the pieces fell into place, and Sarah went out to see the horse, rode him, and pronounced him "fine" for a lady. 

So, he came to the farm and settled right in on August 30, 2006.  Ann Marie promptly called him "Romeo".  We all called him "Guard", but Ann Marie said he was "Tall, Dark and Handsome", therefore he was "Romeo"  Ann Marie showed him as a Hunter.  His "Big Striding"  Days were over, but a show horse is a show horse and is always a show horse.  He packed riding students around the ring, putting up with no sass.  He tested every single one of them, and his owner loved him with all of her heart.

An old eye injury raised it's ugly head this winter and the gelding had to take his daily "bute" to ease the discomfort of the eye pain.  He went outside everyday that was pleasant, or ran free in the arena on those days that were rainy or snowy.  He taught the youngin's whats what, took no backtalk from them, ruled the roost outdoors and definitely had his well deserved place at the top of the herd.

A petite 13 year old girl, Samantha Sampson (riding student with no horse of her own) came into his life three years ago.  Ann Marie generously gave Sam permission to "take lessons" on Guard and then ultimately show him at some COSCA Shows, and last year Sam and Guard took ribbons in what would be his last "Class A" shows. 

 Samantha came and spent an hour in his stall on Friday, Ann Marie came and said her goodbye, Kelly walked him out to the grass covered hill, the Vet gave him escape from pain, and he was laid to rest next to Zana Bey and Max. 

How do you define a gentleman? 

Look up Canadian Guard's name in the equine dictionary....

there will be the description of him...

Tall, Dark and Handsome!

God Speed dear friend, God Speed!

Photo below, Summer Sizzler Horse Show, Canadian Guard and 15 year old Samantha.

Blue ribbons to the end.

Yo' Adrienne!

Day four....after I took a hit from Jerry, the Grey Gelding.  A freak accident.  I was taking his bridle off in the grooming stall, Katie was standing next to him on the same side, as I unclipped the cross-tie to free the halter and bridle he just flipped his head to the left, clipping me on the bone over my eyeball.

The sound was like a loud "crack" of a hammer striking a nail in a board.  Just one quick shot.
No one yelled "Fore" or "Duck" so I didn't.

The son of a bee hurt like hell.  I left the stall and walked halfway down the barn aisle so as not to
scare Katie, I guess that may have been a moot point.  Anyway, it immediately started to swell, swell and swell some more. 

It looked like I was smuggling a golf ball under my eyelid.  I got some ice from the concession stand and applied it for the required 20 minutes at a time.  Sunglasses covered it up but the next morning, I could not open my eyelid, it was swollen shut over my eye.  So, a bag of frozen peas from the RV freezer did the trick enough so that I could drive home from Springfield.

Remember...I am on a blood thinner and so the look is worse than the feel.  Well, almost.

Jerry, the gelding did go into the championship class and place third.  He should have won it, but he was hanging his head down with remorse!

There is no amount of cosmetic concealer that can cover up this puppy!

True Confessions-part four

Nothing even remotely ceremonial about the shearing of my groin area.  Zip,  zip, clip, clip, gone in the blink of an eye.  But, only partially.  Duh, have you ever seen a Bikini bottom????  Oh well.

The procedure started with some form of "let us allow you to relax" and so I was hooked up to something.

I did not feel a thing.  Well, not really, but yes I did.  Sensation would be the word I guess.  (I forgot to describe the feelings of heat throughout my body from the CT Scan dye, but I digress).  I felt pressure, movement, feathery stuff and the finale was "That's it, all done" said the surgeon as he pulled the catheter out...whish, whoosh, whish.  Felt it leaving a trail out of my arm.  I believe I was out of my room until abter 7:30 p.m.  Now remember...no food since Wednesday.  My stomach thought my throat was cut!
Bundled up and trundled back to the room where I was hooked up the assortment of medical spaghetti and machines and alarms.  More blood drawn, at last, food...well not exactly...heart healthy after the kitchen was closed does not a Food Network Star make.

I shushed my family home and settled down for a long nap, however, the bells and whistles had other plans.  The hospital is noisier than an airport.  Really?  Can a person take a snooze around here?

No, and that's the final answer on Jeopardy...

More in a day or two!

True Confessions Part three

Not on your life is right!  Just when I had been lulled into a false sense of security (it will be Monday so I can relax) there was a knock on the room door and three folks dressed in green scrubs entered saying "We are ready for you in the Cath Lab"....Oh yea.  It happened so quickly that I did not have time to prepare, object, flinch or protest "what about Monday"?  Zip zip around corners into an elevator and voila, into the bowels of the hospital (which looked slightly like Gordon Ramsey's kitchen nightmare with the exception that it was clean.)  Very industrial looking and people dressed in skull caps and masks.  Just as I was put into place next to the operating table the double doors opened and entered Dr. Cho.  She was dressed in printed scrubs, a lab coat and print skull cap.  She apparently was the one in charge.  "Good Evening and how are you, blah, blah, blah and then "you will have to wait, we have an emergency that just came in".  Back to Monday?, oh no, you just stay right here and I will get to you as soon as I can.
Aw shit!
Dr. Ryan, the redheaded Dr. finally came in and said "Okay Judy, can you slide over onto the operating table?"  Sure, can you?

The one trump card that I had was "I would like the procedure to be done through my wrist please".  Three skull capped heads turned in unison, "what"?  said they.  "You know, Dr. Cho wants to do the procedure in the groin..."Well Dr. such and such, with the bow tie said I could have the procedure done through my wrist" said I.  All production seemed to stop momentarily, a pregnant pause I believe you would call it.

"Okay then, the procedure is only 90 to 93 % effective some of the time".

"That's okay, I'll take my chances" said I.

"Okay then, but we will still prepare your groin in case we run into a problem".

Fine then I thought...just as the nurse turned on the industrial sized clippers.....

More later

True Confessions, Day Two

Several hours spent in the ER at Medina. I was hooked up to a machine (an EKG I suspect) and people were coming into the space and leaving, taking my blood pressure multiple times and telling me nothing.  At least, I don't remember them telling me anything until it was "time to go".

"GO?"  Well yes, new EMT's, new gurney (I was able to slide off the bed onto the gurney in the ER and then out into the side parking lot of the hospital, slam, bang and thank you Ma'm and I am in the ambulance quicker than you can count to ten.  Go where????  The Cleveland Clinic?  Seriously?
Sigh.....Two EMT's stayed with me in the ambulance "innards" and one EMT drove.  Sirens until we got onto I-71 and punched it into cruise mode.  Sarah followed  the ambulance in her car.  One of the EMT's, Amanda and the other young man, whose name I don't remember were sure to give me their home addresses and contact info to have me send them pierogies....that's another story.

Arrival at the clinic around midnight, give or take and I was again whisked away to what I later found out was Cardiac ICU.  Big white room, lots of bells and whistles, machines, dials and levers, whooshing and wheezing, and that was me...Hospital gown and my two nurses introduced themselves.  I don't remember their names, however one was a "trainee".  Dr. came in and gave me an Echo Cardiogram.  I don't know what that was or the meaning but he seemed very intense and thorough.

By this time, Nathan and Traci had arrived and joined Sarah in the audience.   I had not eaten since Wednesday at dinnertime so I was fairly hungry.  The nurse finally brought me a Yoplait yogurt, peach flavored "light", and a small turkey sandwich.  She said "I don't know about the turkey, maybe you want to pass on that one".  "If they take you to the Cath Lab, tell them you haven't had anything to eat!"

It seemed I was destined to have a CT Scan and then a heart catherization test.  I had no idea what was going on, blood taken, more than once and multiple vials, also a shot of something that's name started with an "L" directly into my abdoman. Hooked up to IV Nitro and Heparin.   That was fun.  Needles to the left...needles to the right and still no cath test.  That test occured about six o'clock on Friday night after the cath team had said there was a whole lot of gridlock in the cath labs (21 of them to be exact) and they did not work on the weekends.  I may have to wait until Monday.  "Fine by me" said I.  That meant in layman's terms, "she's not so bad off and we can afford to wait"...NOT!  So in conversation with the Dr.s on Friday afternoon I learned that I had a choice of "location for the cath".  Groin or wrist.  No kidding?  Which would you do Dr. head of the cath team Dr.?  "Wrist" said he.  Well he was the oldest member of the team, and wore a bowtie, he must be a tenured Dr. so I went with his suggestion.

Finally, (no food since Wed, remember) I had lulled myself into thinking that I was on the "Monday" list and would spend the weekend lounging about in the Clinic.....Not on your life missy!

More tomorrow!

True Confessions

At 2:00 this morning, I celebrated the two week annversary of my heart attack.
That's right, the anniversary.  Two weeks ago at 2:00 a.m. Thursday morning I woke up from a sound sleep feeling chest pressure and heart burn.  I sat up in bed for a few minutes, assessing the situation and decided to get up, go to the bathroom (always an option with me anymore) and then back to bed by way of the hall closet where the over the counter meds are kept.  I took two Rolaids and went back to bed.  No, sleep did not return.  Instead, the chest pressure remained, no worse but certainly no better and then I noticed the heartburn was still there along with some discomfort between my shoulder blades.  Sigh, what next, take a Zantac?  Sure, that will do the trick.....it did not, two more Rolaids, chomp, chomp...lie down and turn on the TV.    Crap, shift my position to get some relief, no dice.

This went on until it was time to get up at 7:00.  Coffee, two or three cups, work on the computer, take the dog out, get the papers, get dressed, putter around, get organized.  Maybe if I lie down on the sofa (by now it was lunch time) and turn the family room TV on, okay that done, still discomfort.  2:00 talked to Sarah, "call the Dr Mom", okay!

Dr.'s office passed me off to the nurse who advised I go to the ER.  Okay then, but first, make out a bank deposit, write some checks out and put in the mail at the post office, stop at the office and then I finally made it to the Urgicare in Brunswick. 

"I think I need an EKG" said I.  The receptionist said "We don't do that here"...just as a nurse walked around the corner ( later I found I was a little pale) and she said "come with me"!

So, I obediently walked "this way" to an exam room where I had an EKG hooked to my body and an IV in my left hand.  The IV was not connected to anything, it was there "just in case".  Thirty minutes of waiting for "just in case" proved to herald the arrival of Three very serious EMT's.  Off to the hospital in the ambulance, sirens wailing and speeding down the road.  Nitro pill under my tongue along with baby aspirin and in between blasts of the siren I answered a staccato of questions passed by me with military stiffness.  The EMT's  were nice but all business.

The arrival at the hospital seemed swift and fortunately Sarah walked into the ER shortly after I arrived.  "What the heck Mom, trying to get out of work?" she joked.

Continued tomorrow......

A big dose of reality..

This is a post from Sarah to Facebook yesterday.  I picked Daniel up from School yesterday and he got into the car and said "I am so sad Nana, Dozer is going to die and I don't want him to."  I know Daniel, I don't want him to either.  We are so lulled into "this is the way life will always be, when reality of the circle of life hits us in the face and slaps up back into the real world of "time goes by and we can't freeze frame it".


Sarah Vas


Ugh. What a long night. explaining life and death to a seven year old who is learning that the dog he has grown up with has cancer and is going to die. Lots of sadness and confusion. lots of hard questions. Lots of honest answers. Thank you to my parents who allowed me at a young age to take part in the cycle of life so I could be prepared for this part of parenting. Thank you for never "sending fluffy off to live on a farm in the country". I know the truth and want Daniel to know too. Please keep Dozer and Daniel in your thoughts as a little boy loses his first pup.

.

Spring is too early this year at least that is what my body is telling me!

It can't possibly be this warm on the 19th day of March. 79 degrees is just not right! 
 Yesterday I spent the day working with Sarah at the barn.  She has horses to go to a show in Ky. in 15 days.  Three horses that have never been to a show, and are "green" as spring grass.

My body is telling me that I am another year older and probably two decades behind the times.  I mostly groom, get horses bitted, watch the horses work in the arena, give my opinions, then help untack them and hose them off,  put them away and  get the next one ready.  The aisleways are cement and the arena is deep sand.  My legs are now used to the walking back and forth in the sand and the cement.  But my arms and shoulder (the right one)  ache all the time.

I feel like the first day after the first day of spring.  You know the day you walk around outside, the sun is shining and you start bending over and picking up sticks in the yard.  Then you pull leaves out of a flower bed, trek across the lawn bending and picking up,  bending and picking up.  That next day you can't move.  Muscles and tendons, ligaments and joints are protesting  in a loud and violent way.  My hands are swollen, fingers don't close, they look like gourmet (you thought they would look like plain old sausage?) sausages and my muscles burn.

Well, welcome to the world of the "assistant groom". When I go to horse shows and look at all the farms participating, I think the average age of a groom is about 20.  I am going on 70!   I know it will get better with time as my muscles acclimate to the physical stress but gheez louise, every morning my body complains!

But boy oh boy, am I aching now.  Even though I have been doing this for several weeks now, I still have arguments with my torso and limbs.

My friend Jo Ann has been excersing every day for 30 mintues for the last eight to ten weeks and is losing weight and getting really trim and fit.   I haven't heard her complain!

Me?  Still flab and sloppy! My legs don't hurt however, so I guess that is a good sign.

Photo at right:  The real Athlete...Sarah Vas!

Wait now, is this what they mean by "getting to the burn"?

Today I met someone

Today I met Christine.  Let me back up a bit.  Sarah had to haul an Arabian Gelding to Brecksville to his new owner, Stacey Giere, co- owner of Maple Crest Farm.  All was uneventful, perfect trip, no problems.  Even though the gelding was not an experienced traveler, he has matured living as a boarder at Sarah and Kevin's Farm and trusts Sarah even he may be cautious.

He arrived unscathed, walked out of the trailer, around the barn, moved into his new stall, with just a tiny bit of anxiety and then started munching his hay.

We are longtime friends with the owners of the farm, Meredith and Stacey (mother and daughter dynamic duo) and so we took the opportunity to visit with them for a bit before they had to get back to work and Sarah and I had to get back to the farm.

One of the owners said "I want to introduce you to someone, she's new here and she is our inspiration".

I turned to look and was shocked.  I tried not to show my shock, but I was sincerely shocked.  We said hello to one another and Sarah asked how long she had been a participant at the farm.  "I came here in January I think."  She had been riding on the trail with one of the owners that day and was tidying up, waiting for her ride to show up.

She had been involved in a house fire.  She had no hands,  two prosthetic legs and burn scars all over her neck, face, head and the arms that were showing out of her tee shirt.  Bad, bad scars. 

She had been riding.  She also is learning how to drive a horse hitched to a carriage.  She said "I prefer to ride in the back (navigator's seat)!

She had no hands.  She had two artificial legs.

She made me so humble.  She had the most beautiful eyes and smile.   "Nice to meet you, I have to go now".

And I am complaining about what again?

How many children?

My friend commented something to the effect of "how many generations of children do we have to educate".
My response, "as many as educated me and you".

Though some are childless, they too received an education.

Though some are on fixed income, they too received an education.

It goes on and on and on.  One foot in front of the other till the job is done.  And then, the jobs that those educated children take, will pay the taxes and social security of those that have gone on to educate them.

At least that's my take on it.  Someone did it for me and I will do it for someone else.  Even though my children are now supporting families of their own I will still support education.

If there is no good system there will be no good rewards.

I guess I just don't agree and that's okay.

Right?

What's Wrong with this Picture?

Yesterday's election results were an interesting read in the newspaper today.

The most interesting two issues affecting Liverpool Township were a surprising comparison.
On the ballot were the following:

Vote for the Jilbert Winery to have Sunday Wine Sales Yay or Nay-  results proved to be Yay

Vote for the Buckeye Schools levy Yay or Nay - results proved to be Nay.

Although I know Mr. Jilbert and have been to his winery many times, it just seems frivilous to pass this ballot item and defeat the school levy.  The levy was not an increase in taxes.

I wish the residents of this community would realize...the quality of the schools will dictate part of the value of the property.  No one wants to purchase a home for the prices that this community is expecting if the schools are not great. 

Spend a little, save a lot!
Don't even go to the place where "how much is your education worth"!

School Shootings don't happen here...

...or do they?  Apparently the answer is yes.  How does a 17 year old boy wake up one morning and say to himself "today I will shoot someone".  Were the victims tormentors?  Were they just random boys caught up in the tragedy because of their close proximity to the shooter?  What was the shooter's intent?  To hurt, to maim,  to kill?

I can't even begin to understand the dark place a mind goes or lives in that would cause that kind of chaos.

My prayers go out to the families, the victims, the friends, the teachers and the shooter and his family.

Why didn't someone see this coming?

A Thousand Marbles

An excerpt from

Charging the Human Battery

by Mac Anderson

The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday morning. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whomever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.

"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. It's too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital," he continued; "Let me tell you something that has helped me keep my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand marbles."

"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years.

Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3,900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I'm getting to the important part.

It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1,000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear.

Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life.

There's nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight.

Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time.

It was nice to meet you Tom. I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the band. This is a 75 year old man, K9NZQ, clear and going QRT, good morning!"

You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter.

Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."

"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. And hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles."

Note:  The reality of the passing of Pat Seeley this week made this a very, very real excerp, one that I intend to take to heart!