It’s officially official. We have a big hole in the ground! There was much debate as to whether our #littlehouseontheranch would have a basement or not. I was on team full basement with a walkout,… More
You know how they say that humans go “back to diapers” in their old age? It’s so true! (Some) old people go back to having the mind of a toddler. Well, Mr. Theodore Bearhug, my resident geriatric horse, has 100% proven to me that he has decided to go back to his toddler ways.
The last 5 years or so I’ve noticed that his give-a-damn has been slightly busted. In his younger days (you know, early twenties) he was this sweet old horse that anyone could ride. He has now been retired from riding completely, even little kids, because all he wants to do is prance around and be a turd. But you know what, he’s 31 and he has probably given about 1,873,024 pony rides in his life. If he wants to be done with the pony ride life, I don’t blame him.
It’s not just the riding part, he also sometimes “forgets” how to lead, and just in general decides what he’s going to be doing and when he is going to be doing it. Granted, I can take the blame for a large majority of this… After he hit the age of 26 I pretty much quit reprimanding him for anything. I figured once he got to that age he deserved to live out his life as he pleased.
But last nights shit show really took the cake and proved to me that Theodore has in fact “gone back to diapers” and is trying to give me a heart attack.
The farrier was coming to my place, so I got both horses caught and took up to the shop where they get shod. The flies were HORRIBLE and it was approximately 1,927 degrees in the shade, so I decided to give them a bath really quick, in hopes that they would be dry by the time the farrier got there.
WELL, I was starting to hose Alvin off and I left Theodore loose to graze around in the grass. Out of the corner of my eye I see Theodore make a b-line at a fast walk into the shop and over to a yellow bucket of used oil. When he reached his destination he dunked his face straight into that bucket. There was no hesitation, no sniffing around, just a very purposeful plunge into that oil, up past the nostrils. Of course I go into panic mode, drop Alvin’s lead rope and go grab Theodore up. I start spraying his face, up his nose, in his mouth, just trying to get all of this oil off and out of him before he can get too much of it ingested. His teeth, nose, lips, everything was black.
Sometime during this escapade, Alvin, who is a giant sissy/worry wort, thought that HE might be in trouble too, so he took off towards the pasture. Now I have a horse running off that thanks to all the corn around I can’t see where he’s going, a horse with oil all over his face that’s screaming for his missing friend and is running around me, I’ve got a hose and a bottle of VO5 trying to get all this oil off of him, and any oil that is coming off of him is going straight onto me and my glasses. So here I am, soaked in water/oil, blind because my glasses are covered, I have no idea where my other horse is, and my farrier is going to arrive at any moment. Just another day at my funny farm!
Thankfully, everyone was captured, bathed, calmed down, and alive when the farrier did get there. The ponies got their pedicures and we all lived happily ever after… except for my poor glasses. I have washed 3 times and they still have a little bit of greasy residue on the lenses. Seeing clearly is overrated, right?
All I can say at this point is T.G.I.to the F. For realz.
Have a great weekend!
I don’t know where I heard it, probably in some ridiculous Lifetime movie my mom forced us to watch, but for some reason it has always stuck with me: Life is just a series of firsts. First breath, first tooth, first day of school, first day of college, first love, first day of your first job, first house, etc. etc. Most of the time when we think of “firsts” they are good. But then sometimes we come across some firsts that pretty much suck. First heart break, first loss of a loved one, first broken bone, first wreck, and so on.
I’ve had a lot of really wonderful firsts with my sweet Theodore Bearhug. Catching the first steer I ever roped on him, first day of college, first college rodeo, first check in team roping, first rodeo short go, I could go on and on. He’s been with me since before MyFarmer, a full 10 years now. My parents bought him for me the summer between high school and college so the old boy and I have been through a whoooole lot of life and (me) growing up together. He’s been my faithful companion through it all, even when I didn’t deserve his love, and he has always been the sweet boy that puts a smile on my face. Sure, we have had some times that weren’t so good… like the time he tried to cut his leg off on a fence and that other time when he tore his suspensory ligament, but he came back from both of those injuries better than ever and went on to compete again.
He’s so adorable that it hurts.
I had yet another first with my sweet Theodore last week. And it was an AWFUL first. He is 31 years old this year, which is quite old for a horse, but I’m not really accepting his age well. I can see the changes in him, but I refuse to let myself feel them, until they come and hit me like a ton of bricks.
That day was the first time Theodore has gotten down to roll and wasn’t able to get back up on his own. And it was heartbreaking. Thankfully I was at the barn and saw him standing before I saw him struggling, so I knew he hadn’t been down for long. Also very luckily MyFarmer was planting sweet corn really close by so he was able to help in a hurry. When I got to Theo he had been trying to get up and had physically wore himself out. He just layed there with his head on the ground while I petted him and let him catch his breath… while I held mine.
Once MyFarmer got to us we were able to push his front end up and hold him there until he was able to get his back end under himself. Once he was up he went right back to grazing like nothing happened. MyFarmer looked at me and said: “Don’t you start crying now. He’s okay.” And with those seven words the water works began. Tears that he was fine, and tears that he’s not fine. He is THIRTY ONE years old. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. No amount of love, attention, nutrition, therapy, can slow down time. And that sucks. But it also served as a reminder to truly cherish the time I’ve got left with him, until I have to endure the very last first we’ll ever have. The first day without him.
Some people are reading this and it totally get it. They know the love a person can have for an animal and how much it hurts having to watch them age or lose them. Other people will think to themselves, “He’s just a horse. Get over it.” And that’s fine too. It’s impossible to explain the love between a girl a her horse, but trust me, it is a force to be reckoned with.
P.S. I feel like I need to add this in:
A few days later I got to witness another first for my Theodore… but this one was precious. MyFarmer (a self proclaimed “horse hater” *eyeroll*) came down to the horse barn to talk to me and was standing next to Theo’s pen. Theodore got this mischievous look on his face and reached over the panels to playfully nuzzle on MyFarmer. He started at his hip and worked his way up to his face. If a horse can smile, Theodore most certainly was, as was MyFarmer. My heart almost exploded in that moment. That little show of affection between my two favorite 31 year old’s in the world will forever be engraved in my brain. ❤
While I have never been to the “real” Paris, like the one not in the United States, I have been to 3 Paris towns in my life, all with varying levels of buzzkill for me.
Of the three Parises(?)Paris, Kentucky is my favorite. Lots of rolling hills and beautiful pastures as far as the eye can see. It’s very close to Lexington, KY, so thoroughbred horse farms are everywhere and it is breathtaking. The area itself is beautiful, but man did I have an interesting experience with some less than beautiful people. I went with a friend of mine that was “Racer One” (Murray States mascot) to be a part of some kind of alumni function. When we pulled into this estate you would have thought a prince lived there. Anyway, we were treated like servants, not offered anything to eat or drink all evening, and had to deal with a devil horse that tried to bite you every chance he got. All while maintaining a smile for the photo ops with the richie riches. The only reason we got any food is because an awesome lady (who obviously wasn’t like the others) made us some to go plates and sent us out the back door. But I’m not going to hate Paris, Kentucky just because of that night. I’m sure not everyone there is a rude snob.
I’m pretty indifferent about Paris, Tennessee. It hasn’t ever done anything bad to me, but nothing necessarily great either. It is known for having the worlds largest fish fry, and probably even better known for the Jason Aldean song. “Climbed a water tower, in Paris, Tennessee…” I don’t eat fish, I’ve never climbed the water tower, and the rodeo they have during the fish fry is always a muddy mess, so I don’t have a lot of love for that town. The one reason I do have some fondness for the town is because in college it was the closest place we could buy liquor. (I never bought any of the cheapest vodka ever made while in Paris, but I would ride down with my friends for THEM to get some.) Yup, MyFarmer and I went to college in a dry county. And yes, dry counties still do exist to this day in Kentucky. Anyway, I’ve had some fun times in Paris, Tennessee, so I don’t hate the place, but I’m not dying to go back.
Then there is Paris, Texas. By far the biggest let down of the 3 Paris’ in my life. And it didn’t have to be that way. But now it is. And we can’t change that.
My BFF AnnieLisa and I went on an awesome road trip last summer to go see DanaDoodle in south-central Oklahoma. The trip was amazing. Neither one of us had really been on a trip without towing horses, so it was nice to be able to travel at a leisurely pace and stop at all the historic landmarks in Northern Texas… and all the western stores. We stop at this killer western store just outside of Paris, Texas right before lunchtime…
We spend about an hour skimming through the store in awe. Cute clothes, tons a boots, some tack and jewelry. It was a winner of a store for two girls like us. As we were checking out the sweet lady was asking us where we are from, what brings us to Texas, etc. etc. and we told her that we were actually just killing time on our trip because we were running about 6 hours ahead of schedule. (Yeah, we were a little overzealous and excited to see Doodle.)
The sweet lady hands us a couple of Paris, Texas magnets and says with so much excitement that she can hardly stand it, “You HAVE to go see the Eiffel Tower! It’s HUGE! There’s a GIANT cowboy hat on the top! It’s SO COOL!” Hook, line, and sinker AnnieLisa and I are IN. The lady gives us “directions” and off we go with extremely high expectations. We pull down the road it is supposed to be on, and start excitedly looking to the sky. We couldn’t see it until we were literally in the parking lot, and the let down started to set in. There is was. Maybe a couple stories tall, with a big-ish cowboy hat. A couple stories tall of black metal. In the 10 minutes it took us to get there we had built up the excitement to a really unattainable level. And let me tell you that Eiffel Tower wasn’t even close to reaching the level we wanted it to be. As much of a disappointment it was, it was equally as hilarious. But hey we were there for the experience, so take pictures and enjoy the experience we did.
While the Paris, Texas Eiffel Tower was a total let down, I do still suggest that you go if you’re in the area. In all fairness it really isn’t that lame… it just definitely isn’t as cool as we were led to believe. HA! Plus there is a really nice veterans memorial right next to it. The memorial totally made our hunt to find the tower with it. We also found a little diner that had amazing cheeseburgers close by. #winning
I hope that sometime in your life you can make a 24 hour round-trip road trip with your BFF. We had such an amazing time, and too many random stories that I could never share all of them. A couple highlights:
- “Have we passed Memphis yet?” … As we were closing in on Little Rock.
- The first time we saw a “Watch for Rattlesnakes” sign.
- When a random loose heifer on a back road in North Texas called our bluff… in the truck.
- Sleeping with a knife in the motel room because our door didn’t have a secondary lock.
- The look you get when asking about the Clinton family in Bill Clinton’s hometown in Arkansas. (Hint… it’s not a good one.)
- Exciting announcing “There’s a cactus!” every time we saw a wild cactus.
- Trying on every single piece of clothing at the discount western store.
- Laughing. Lots and lots of laughing.
A few pictures of one of the funnest weekends ever.
Stopping at all of the historical landmarks in north Texas was for sure a highlight of the trip. I’m kind of a nerd (as if you haven’t picked that up yet) so every sign we saw we would whip it off the highway.
That stupid Eiffel Tower. I hate it, but actually I love it.
The veterans memorial. Go there.
I’ll go to any Paris as long as these girls are there!
I just had 950 words of the dramatic story of a heifer calf’s first days of life, but I somehow deleted it all with the accidental hit of 2 keys. I don’t know what two keys those were. Kind of wish I did. Oh well, I’ll save you all the long saga and get to the bread and butter of the situation.
Daphne had a heifer calf!
And we didn’t know it was coming!
We knew she was bred, and the day before she calved ScubaSteve proclaimed that she would calve sometime in the next month or two. Or, you know, tomorrow. Apparently.
At first Daphne was being a bit of a dead beat momma, but she’s gotten her act together. Plus the best cow in the whole wide world, Delilah, has stepped in to help, and that’s much appreciated by me… and Daphne I’m sure.
Here she is, Miss Sookie St. James Snider, born 4/21/17. Truth be told, there’s a good chance she was born on 4/20, but I don’t want her birthday to be international pot smoking day, so 4/21 it is.
She’s not spoiled at all.
By the way her name comes from the Gilmore Girls show. One of my other favorite TV shows besides Golden Girls. MyFarmer and I have already decided that Faycee’s future calves will be named after Big Bang Theory characters. And I need another cow for The Office. Then we will have to start watching more TV. Ha!
And for those of you wondering, Laszlo is still doing great. Although he really wasn’t stoked about losing his only child status so quickly. But he has adjusted well and is a lazy little momma’s boy compared to the spunky little heifer calf that has invaded his life.
So there you have it. I have 2 baby calves now. And my life is perfect.
The good news: Delilah finally had her calf!
Little Laszlo Richmond Snider was born yesterday afternoon, which happened to be National Women in Ag Day! I specifically asked the Easter Bunny for a red and white speckled heifer calf…I got the red and white speckled part, but not so much the heifer part. But I am ecstatic because I have a healthy and happy baby and momma. Life is good!
In case you all are new to my life, I name all of Delilah’s calves after characters on the greatest TV show ever made… The Golden Girls. I was going through a character list for the show with MyFarmer and when I said “Laszlo” MyFarmer said, “That’s it!” I don’t ever recall them giving Laszlo’s last name in the show (but if you do happen to know his last name, PLEASE let me know!) so for the middle name I went with the street the Golden Girls live on… Richmond Street. Laszlo Richmond Snider. It has a good ring to it if I do say so myself. Now on to the real reason you all clicked on this link: Baby calf pictures!
Fun side note: Delilah was bred to a black Corriente bull last year, and that bull has thrown all solid red calves out of solid black mommas, and now a speckled red calf out of a black and white speckled momma. The first time Delilah was bred to a solid black Corriente bull she threw a solid back calf, but she has been bred to a black Angus twice and threw white and black calves. Last year she was bred to a Hereford (red) and threw a red calf with some white. I know very little about color genetics in cattle, but I do know that black hair coats are usually dominate to red, but if both the cow and the bull are recessive carriers of the red gene they will produce red calves. It appears that the Corriente bull is not a homozygous black… and neither is Delilah. But that’s quite alright, little red calves are pretty adorable. And black or red they will rope just the same. 🙂
Now on to the bad news….
Since the calf was not born on or before the 11th of April… I lost the bet with ScubaSteve. The details of the bet can been seen here. And boy is he proud of himself. I’ll never hear the end of this you all. BUT I did get one little piece of victory on Easter:
A very rare side hug from a very happy ScubaSteve. I’ll take it.
Have a great week friends! I’ll be getting me real camera out this week for better pictures of Mr. Laszlo to share with you all. 🙂
It’s like making a deal with the devil. Except instead of horns he wears a UK ball cap.
As you all know, my father in law ScubaSteve and I have a relationship that most people would find odd between a DIL and FIL. We love to hate each other and the more irritating we can be to one another the better. He has truly met his match with me when it comes to hard headed and stubborn, and that is why we “get along?” so well. While I know he absolutely worships the ground I walk on (if he actually read these blog posts he would have choked on that last statement), he doesn’t ever outwardly show his affection for me. Like, ever. In fact it makes him extremely uncomfortable when I tell him that I love him (hence why I say it all the time) and it has become my life mission in the two years to try to trick him into saying it back to me. So far all of my efforts have failed… until now.
Scuba gives me crap all the time about Delilah (the most beautiful and wonderful cow in all the world). When I saw what I thought was her mucus plug going over a month and a half ago I was sure that we would have a baby within 3 weeks… but alas there is still no baby around. He was giving me a hard time a couple weeks ago that I didn’t know what I was talking about, she wasn’t anywhere close to calving, and “I bet you that she doesn’t have that calf for another month.”
Oh son, them are fighting words in the world of Scuba and Laney.
I stuck my arm strait out and said, “You really want to bet me?”
While we shook on it I laid out my terms of the bet: If Delilah calves on or before April 11, Scuba must tell me he loves me while shaking my hand AND looking me in the eye, followed by a hug. BOOM!
What does Scuba want if he wins the bet? Nothing. Why? Because the simple fact of knowing that he is right and can continue to harass me with his “right-ness” for the rest of eternity is enough for him. [Y’all I CAN NOT lose this bet]
So now we wait. Scuba and I have both been checking Delilah’s utter on a daily basis both wishing for what we want to see. I tried to get him with an April Fool’s that she calved and it only worked for about .2 seconds before he caught on. He’s a sharp old tack.
I’m starting to get a little nervous as she’s just now started to bag up, but I’m still hopeful. She’s got a week to make this happen for me.
Side note: Can you give cows Pitocin to induce labor? Asking for a friend…
Wishing for luck and a heifer calf,
What is the weather like in your neck of the woods? We have been going from tornado watches to winter weather advisories on a daily basis around here the last couple weeks. Mother Nature really needs to go home, she’s drunk.
Anywho… even though it’s just March we have been working on all kinds of stuff for Ruby Branch this fall. Really January-March are our only times to work on projects and crafts for the fall because starting in the middle of March all H-E-Double hockey sticks breaks loose on the farm and at my job. Moral of the story, we make wooden pumpkins in March.
I bought a cheap little pumpkin decor thing off of Amazon and presented it to MyFarmer. He looked at it and said, “I can make this, no problem.” “Good,” I said,”Because that was my plan.”
And make awesome little pumpkin decor things he did. They are so cute!! He’s been telling me not to share them with the world yet but I just can’t help it! We have some that are more finished and fancier than the picture I have here, but I want to save the surprise of how awesome they really are for later. Some of them are painted, some stained, some just plain, some have chalkboard paint. Ohhh the possibilities!!
I MEAN SERIOUSLY. He has some that he’s made from barnwood and pallet wood and all of the “pumpkins” are made from at least partially reclaimed wood. Most of them actually have realllly old hard wood flooring as the base which I think is really cool.
Over the course our relationship MyFarmer has continued to amaze me with the stuff he can make. I’ve learned to never doubt his abilities since he honestly has yet to let me down with any of his craftsmanship. He’s made all kinds of tables and desks and minion straw bales and random stuff that always turn out amazingly. But when he started talking about making sushi a couple weeks ago I got scared. Really scared. So scared that the night of the sushi making I sat in the truck in the driveway for 10 minutes mustering up the courage to go inside.
When I walked into my house I was in shock. There, in my kitchen, was sushi rice, crunchy shrimp, avocado and seaweed wraps. And there was MyFarmer constructing sushi. And it was DELICIOUS. I will never doubt him and his sushi bazooka again.
THE MAN MADE SUSHI, Y’ALL! And the table it’s sitting on, actually.
I think I’ll keep my handy little farmer sous chef around.