Talk about a lame hurricane. Lazy. Wish they would've predicted that instead of the 60 MPH winds-- we might not have busted a gut doing Hurricane Prep 101 all over again. I shouldn't complain. We still haven't recovered from Irma.
With Tommy taking up the spare stall we use during storms, another temporary stall was erected in the middle of the aisle. Camping in the barn is the best! All the horses were kept up all day during the wind and lightning events. A day spent feeding the crew small snacks of hay to keep them busy and scooping bucket after bucket of manure.
Meanwhile, the clowns in the office amuse themselves.
Does Peter ever love his baby. Dax gets a head to toe bath every day.
Lunch break is spent relishing a chocolate cake that just materialized this morning.
Sorting through recipes for an upcoming catering event--- see, I'm resting during recovery. I can behave for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, the monsoon, Part IV.
15,000 lbs of animals in the barn for a whole day makes for a spectacular poopfest.
The horses released an hour and a half ago, finally I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. One more big push and I'll be done.
The recipe for a proper birthday begin days in advance. Firstly, a cake or two must be baked and sampled for the next five days.
My favorite: rose geranium tea cakes. By the time my birthday rolled around on Friday, I was out of cake. I went out for ice cream to make up for it, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Friday morning was spent dealing with issues on the farm and then the dogs and I made our escape-- to another state no doubt!!!
The mushing team invaded Roosevelt State Park, Georgia. Dax insisted on being the lead dog, which will eventually be his position, ONCE he learns Gee and Haw, and how to stay on trail. Much time was spend untangling them from trees.
Our fearless leader. Great training opportunity nevertheless.
Some of the trails were very technical and required my little man to use some brain power.
There must always be play.
And ice cream.
Dax was so tired, he fell asleep in his bowl.
Comatose the entire hour drive home. We only hiked 4 miles, but it did us all in. It had been a couple days since I'd had the kind of pain that stops you dead in your tracks, catches your breath and makes your eyes water. Found it again at mile 3. No, I will never learn, quit even thinking that in my case, age brings wisdom. All I think, each time, is that I can outsmart, out maneuver the inevitable. It's one of my most charming qualities. We all perceived ourselves differently. I think of myself as an unflappable, tenacious 46 year old. Y'all probably see a pig headed middle aged woman who needs to be smacked upside the head. Yup, I like my view better, ha, ha!
Spending a few weeks in bed recuperating from surgery seemed like a vacation the first couple of days,
then the heebie jeebies set in when the medical bills began rolling in. Alone the hospital's portion of the surgery is over $14,000. Every day a new claim pops up on my Blue Cross account. Every other day, I'm on the phone trying to whittle it down. Thus far, I'm on the hook for $11,240 (my $8000 deductible, +%20 overage Blue cross won't cover and $2150 ultrasound performed by a clinic that was out of network). Canadian readers are all confused at this point-- just be grateful.
No use laying around worrying when I can be busy...
Providing shuttle service for Tommy back and forth to the vet school! He's home now, enjoying the room service in his Hilton Club Suite.
In a week, he'll be cleared to rejoin his wench in the ox pasture.
I've commandeered a pokey little golf cart to get around.
Low to the ground, all the dogs can get in unassisted and slow as molasses so I can't hit any potholes at my usual Mach 2.
We plod to the Boonies every day to let the dogs romp.
Peter needs his 2 mile hikes daily to keep his hip dysplasia from getting the best of him. And my surgeon said to walk, she neglected to impose a mileage cap!
Dax, no longer cast out at a boarding facility has begun to grow again.
4 pounds gain in a week, we're catching up.
Every day brings new training opportunities.
My little troop isn't synchronized--getting close!
After a long day, the little tyke crashes at my feet over supper.
He's quickly figuring out that his two weeks of lounging around in a crate while being boarded are over forever. Now it's go, go ,go!
Who said work had to be all tedium?
Flynn and I have embarked on a habitat study of our resident alligator:)
One must know thy neighbor, from the 5 footers to the 5 inchers.
Ran off the trail to avoid crushing this beauty. Larval form of the Regal Moth. Oooh, ahhhh.
Back to the tedious task of preparing for the impact of another potential tropical storm.
Nate doesn't appear to be as ominous as Irma, but we've rolled in the welcome mat as a precaution.
No, I'm not following doctor's orders. Call me a conscientious objector. I did try (worst two days of my life). I have things to do, man! Flynn is at the helm for the next couple weeks, alas, he didn't expect me to be his auxiliary pain in the ass by Day Four.
A concerned friend did send a care package to help me wile away the time.
Sneakily effective.
When's the last time you played with crayons?
Staying within the lines is for the less adventuresome.
And Play-Doh, who can resist?
My masterpiece. Please, no flash on the cameras, it might harm the artwork.
You know you're kindred spirits with someone when their dog sends you a guardian angel.
Kindred spirits also know how to get you killed: send you a chicken suit when you have a bird dog.
I say, I say, dammit boy!
I even received a new rock for my collection.
This one being a representation of my little family. Yes, I have many things to be thankful for:
Thanks indeed for sisters. That package took me hours to savor. Ever so thoughtful Gina even included sustenance for the job.
