The Asylum- Views From The Nut House

 Got to meet these three beauties the other day. 

Love me some Belgians. Would not want to OWN one,

but I sure can appreciate them!

 The Kid

"Dammit Auntie Mrs Mom- quit taking my PICTURE

and FEED ME already!!"

 The Merp. I can not MOVE with out her underfoot.

Cute she is.

Bright?
Yeeeahhh... not so much.

 Phine Phat Pony is doing his BEST to convince me he is 

STARVING.

He says he is SO hungry,

He is FORCED to lick the bucket.

For like... 15 minutes after the food is gone.

And here he is again- the Phinest Phat Pony

From a totally new angle. 

And there ya have it- 

some views from around

The Asylum!

Nver A Dull Moment!

Alternately titled, "Don't Trust TomTom!"


Phone rings the other evening. Good friend of mine says, "Hey! What are you doing tomorrow? I have to go pick up a pony for a lady- care to ride along?"

I check with Dear Husband (who is sick- but that is a whole 'nother story) and plans are set. I'm looking forward to the trip and getting away for an afternoon.

Friend shows up in the morning and we hit the road. As we prepare to turn (opposite from where I thought we were going,) I ask, "Hey- aren't we going to the middle part of the state? Like, umm.. west of here? That way?" (Pointing out the window to make sure I had things right.)

"Well, the GPS thingymabobber said turn left... so... let's just see where we end up."

Uh-oh.

Left we went. Got down the road a couple miles, and the voice in the box said, "Turn Left!" Left we did again. By this time I was giggling, because I was pretty sure I knew what the stupid box thingy was going to say.. and sure enough... a few miles down the road, we turned left again. Guess what--- we went umm.... 20 miles or so out of the way to go two miles from The Asylum.

We proceeded along... and next thing we know, the stupid box is telling us to take a left onto this other road. A dirt road. Not the smooth, paved road suitable for pulling a horse trailer on-- oh no. It was a DIRT road. Now, dirt roads are usually fine. I spent a lot of time on dirt roads in Tundra Country- it was pretty much all we had- dirt or gravel. But the roads up there were different. They were not SAND.

I peeped at the dash of my friends truck. Nope. Not four wheel drive.

Sand dirt road.

Least it had not poured much the night before, cause if it HAD we'd have been in BIG trouble.

Not sure what was coming next, the stupid box thingy pipes up and says, Bear Left!

I think it has a thing for LEFT.

Eventually, over and hour at what should have been a 45 minute part of the trip, we wound up back on the paved road and decided to stop and get something to eat. From there on out, the stupid box thingy gave decent directions- which I was extremely glad of as the sand roads where we were headed looked mighty bad.

We arrived at our destination safely, loaded the pony fine, and headed back this way to deliver her to her new home.

Well.

Ever have a stupid box thingy get pissed at you? I think we did. The damn thing kept INSISTING we turn RIGHT back onto the sand dirt roads. I said, "NO. We need to stay on PAVEMENT. NO. Dirt. Roads." As we passed the first turn the box told us to make, it got quiet. Then it said, "In one quarter mile, you WILL turn right onto XXX Road." In one quarter mile, we did not turn right onto XXX Road. The box pipes up and gets a 'Tude then, insisting we go back and take the damn right, which by then would have been a left.

I think we damaged the stupid box thingymabobber by screwing with it so much on the return trip. Which was fine by me. I did have to ask my friend though, how many times has the thingy gotten her lost? And did it often dump her in the woods like that?

At that point the stupid box piped up again and insisted we make another right onto a dirt road. When we did not comply, the snooty voice in the box said, "Fine. Continue straight. But don't bitch at me if you don't have any adventure in your life. It's your own fault."

I learned a few things yesterday.
One, I'm not going to purchase a TomTom navigational device.
Two, looking directions up on line is much easier.
Three, always carry a MAP when riding with this particular pal.
Four, I live in a very pretty but somewhat spooky looking area. I swear there were a few times I heard banjo music.

However, we survived. Delivered the pony to her new home and weather permitting I'll be popping out in about two hours to go trim the little mare.


Now, as we were on our way from dropping off the pony.... oi.

Friends cell phone rings and I see my home number pop up. It's Dear Husband!
I say, "Hey! What's shakin'?"

*coughcough* Lots of dirty words ensued, as it seems my fence charger was not working properly and The Kid (who is still here, as he thinks he now owns us,) decided that yes, the grass IS greener on the other side. And yes, he was pushing his way through the fence. Which upset Dear Husband greatly, as he was not allowed to be up and moving much. Which means fixing fence was a big no-no. Lucky for us, we were only a mile from The Asylum (take THAT TomTom!) and we were here in a jiffy. I fixed the fence and hauled butt to the supply store and got a new fence charger.

It did my heart good to see The Kid get zapped. Poor Phat Boy-- he was hanging way back, snorting at the fence. It seems that cleaning the grounding rod increased the charge as well, and he was telling me all about it. The Kid chose not to listen.

Sleep last night was pretty much out of the question, as worry over The Kid blasting through the fence kept me up hourly checking on the horses. They are tired today. Phat Boy flipped me The Bird at the last check, saying he was sick and tired of me flashing the damn light at him, disturbing his beauty rest. Poor poor Phat Boy.

Never.
A.
Dull.
Moment.

Ever.

But this is good- it keeps us guessing what will the morrow bring?

WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot Friday

WARNING:

This post is NOT horse related.

This post DOES contain reference to my favorite tool

A Mossberg Shotgun

It ALSO contains SHOOTING the shotgun.

So if you don't LIKE shotguns, snakes, screaming, Mrs Mom pissing herself kind of stories,

I strongly suggest you move along.

Nothing to see here, folks. 

That's right. What you read above? Yeah- Mrs Mom is in love with a Mossberg and seriously mega underwhelmed with fricken snakes right now.

This is the second time in a matter of weeks the Mossberg has been pressed into service to save us from something slithery. The first time I pulled the trigger (lots) and took out one. Tonight Dear Husband pulled the trigger a few times and took out four.

Not one

Not two

Not three.

Four.

On my elevated freaking front porch.

Seee.... it goes like this. Every night, we wrangle the boys into the shower. While they shower, I round up jammies, lock doors, adjust lights, potty dogs and bring in the DAT. 

Tonight STARTED that way and went fine- right up until the "Bring in the DAT" part. I opened the front door to see her perched on the railing, looking... well, psychotic. Not an unusual look for her by any means- so I - in my bare feet- clomped out onto the porch to get her down from the railing and bring her in. My normally placid (she's psychotic but not aggressive or dangerous) DAT was having none of it. I picked her up and she growled and hissed and me, clawing (DAT has claws? For real? She never uses them on us or the kids!) Having no choice (since keeping my intestines IN my abdomen was a priority) I let her go. She scrambled back onto the porch rail, fixating on something on the floor, about three feet from my bare toes. 

I turned my head to look and Viola! Snake. 

I screamed for Dear Husband- "HOLY FRICKEN SHIT--- SNAKE!" Which of course sent the kids into a frenzy. Dear Husband moseyed over, thinking "rat snake scaring the bejeepers out of the wife". Yeah.. umm.. not so much.

I was hiding on the other side of the porch. DAT was up on the railing, grumbling and very unimpressed. And Dear Husband was able to determine indeed this was NOT a rat snake but an eastern diamond back rattle snake WHO DID NOT RATTLE. 

He stomped his foot, the snake slithered away initially, and I made it in the door (DAT was on her own for the moment- I had to contain 2 stupid dogs.) Mossberg was retrieved and fired.

So.

One dead snake. Dear Husband stayed on the front porch to keep an eye on it and make sure neither of the dogs got near the head, and I went out the back door to round up tools to move the carcass with. (Carcass- yes. It was 4' long.) Rake and hoe in his hands, I hear him say some dirty words. (OK so between us? We BOTH said a lot of wirty dords tonight.) I hear, THWACK THWACK THWACK.... more grumbling and muttering... and he says, "Come here and hold the shotgun- cover me. There were 3 more small ones in the corner under the leaves."

So. Georgia peeps. Remember earlier this year when I posted the info about the massive rattle snake out by Fort Stewart (the over 7' long one) that did not rattle? Guess what. It's true. There are rattle snakes around that are not rattling. Watch where you are stepping out there folks. 

Four freaking rattle snakes on my front porch. Kids, in and out all day long, in bare feet. Cats, dogs, me.. in and out, all day long. Door open to catch the breeze today because it was so very very nice out. All day long. Good Lord was watching over us cause there is no telling how long those snakes had been out there, or how close any of us had come to potential harm. 

New rule at The Asylum. No one goes out, no animals go out unless I or Dear Husband clear the porch first. 

Fall is here. Critters are fuzzing up. Critters are seeking warm places to hole up. At this rate it could be a very long long fall/ winter indeed.

Note to self: get more shotgun shells.

~MM

The Plan

 Sunset from the other night- photo cred? Cub!

 Last Phat Boy post, I mentioned The Plan. The Plan at the time was basic.

I love love LOVE to shoot.

And I love love LOVE to ride.

Phat Boy is always up for something new.

So.. even though there are no mounted shooting teams near here (closest one I believe is 2 plus hours away,) it just made sense to me to round up a nice little Air Soft pistol of sorts and start blasting away at some balloons off of Phat Boy.

Of course, The Plan needs a strong foundation. Right? Right! Phat Boy needs to learn to work exclusively off my seat and legs, cause frankly, I am not so sure I can find a revolver style Air Soft pistol. So I'll need two hands- one to pull the trigger and one to rack the slide back.

Then I thought, "Well, heck. If we are going to learn to work like THAT, then why the heck not go with an Air Soft RIFLE?" I love me some long gun action. And I KNOW Air Soft makes some wicked sweet long guns.

First step though, is making time to begin refining Phat Boy's training level and getting his skillz updated.

Uh-huh. THIS ought to go over about as well as a turd in a punch bowl with my little red headed pal. But, better than being bored!!

 Meet The KID!

Yep. THAT picture above? For SURE is NOT Phat Boy. No way, no how. That is a little feller that came in for a wee bit of testing/ evaluation. HoneyMare (who apparently from what I hear is totally PISSED now, 'cause you know, she had to MOVE from Auntie Mrs Mom's casa de pony,) was doing so well that we thought playing horsie shuffle again was safe. This kid came in for a short visit. So far, the Kid (he has not revealed his nick name yet- all in good time) is a pretty nice little feller. He is kind, pretty honest, and once he "gets" what you are asking, he holds onto it and does his best to deliver every time. He looks to be a young 4 years old, and probably has not had the best advantage for food in his short time here. (Leave him here a month and THEN let's do another photo shoot.... I makes ponies ROUND!)

I'm pretty pleased with his mindset. He may not be the prettiest thing conformation wise, but a load of heart and a ton of try can make up for a LOT. The Kid is going to make the right person a wonderful mount.

 This is part of my parade. Every time I go outside, both dogs have to go with me. Remember that cute little bundle of wire haired energy? Well, Merp is not so tiny these days. And most times she honestly is not so "cute" anymore. But, she is still here. She loves to hear the words "FARM DOGS!" come out of my mouth, and starts her dance. Gotta tell ya- Merp? Yeah she is kinda.. umm.. nuts. Now, see the expression on Jo the Wonder Nanny Dog's face there? That is pretty much what she thinks of Merp 24/7. Jo has *always* been Queen Klepto. Now however, she has some SERIOUS competition. Merp. Is. Psycho. Merp consequently spends time in Doggie Jail (crate) to give us ALL a break from her intensity. Through and through, that little bundle of wire haired mess is a TERRIER. Known affectionately by me as a TERRORIST!

The dogs are just HALF the parade. Kitty DAT (a true psycho herself,) and Porch Cat (yes, she defied the "Don't name her and she won't stick around" rule... and became PORCH CAT. *sigh*) make sure to make their presence known strongly. DAT, my little incredibly SOFT psycho, boldly goes where no other kitty dares to go, and she will clean the entire paddock AND stick around to move hay, AND work The Kid with me, AND wash the water tank, AND feed mash. Porch sits and soaks up the sun, pretending to be a Supervisor. I think in another life Porch Cat was a state employee cause she has that whole Supervisor role down pat.

This is what I get for trying to sneak a picture of Her Royal Supervisor-ness. Yep. I got SPANKED by Porch for that. Oh well- it was worth it!


The rest of Life is rolling along. Keeping up with things is a challenge, but-- well, Dear Husband and I like a challenge. (Obviously. We have a set of Irish Twins to keep us on our toes. THAT is a Challenge.)

At least the weather is almost cooperating. Mornings are cool and it is easy to get lost out playing pony with the Locust Brothers. The sun is a good reminder though of when to call it quits, because it is still pretty dang intense out there. Things are still dry, and I've heard rumors hay will be tough to come by. Not as bad as the folks in Texas though.

Well folks, it is time to clean up and hit the hay. Daylight will come early (not AS early but still early) and there is a LOT of stuff to be accomplished tomorrow!

Happy Hoofin!
~MM

9/11/01 - 9/11/11

I met the sunrise this morning, with a weariness in my heart. A sadness that never *quite* goes away. In years past, the mornings leading up to 9/11 were met with a mixture of worry, fear and anxiety. Would THIS be the year? Would THIS be when they struck again?

Long time readers have come to expect the graphic images of that day, with emotion charged words reminding them- everyone- that we must never forget. We must NEVER. FORGET. Too many already have.

Oh sure- terror levels are "heightened" and the general state of awareness is maxed out, thanks to the terror threats placing all major US cities on high alert. I'm willing to bet though, that in a weeks time, the general populace will shrug their shoulders once again and say, "Yeah- that's what I thought. Nothing is going to happen HERE." Guess what kids-- that same thought is what made the FIRST 9/11 possible. Just sayin'.

It was with *vast* amounts of utter disgust that I first read that idiot Mayor's statements from NYC barring any clergy or first responders from the ceremonies at today's dedication of the Ground Zero Memorial. What? Are you KIDDING me? Oh no says he, *OTHER* ceremony will be held "At a later date in other locations" for the brethern of those we lost that day. Here's a thought for you, Mayor man--- what if those first responders had said, "Yeah- no. I think we'll respond some other day, another time, in a different location."

But they didn't.


And THEN that man had the nerve to say, "Stop calling it Ground Zero!"

(And people WONDER why I left NY, never to return again.)



I'll never forget what I was doing, where I was, who I was with on that fateful day. Never forget the feeling of helplessness, hoplessness. Fear. Overwhelming sadness. Worry.

Anger.

Anger at how supposed "leaders" of our great nation have chosen to handle this sacred day. Anger at how many citizens of this great country have gone out of their way to forget.


This post was going to say how my life changed in the ensuing ten years. Instead I find the weariness in my soul taking hold- a desire to soak up the sun. To listen to the horses eat hay, the DAT purr beside me, the Locust Brothers playing in the bushes. I hear the traffic passing by on the highway. Sounds from the neighbors building next door. Murphy, panting in my ear. Porch Cat, perched on the rail rumbling away. I find I don't want to talk about things. I don't want to stir that ember back to a roaring flame. Instead, I think it is time to quietly remember the people I knew, that we lost that day.


May We Never Forget.






Mrs Mom
III

Product Review!!

 First though- to lay to rest any doubts that Phine Phat Pony is indeed, P-H-A-T (fat?), feast your eyes on that big belly... the cresty neck... the excessively rounded apple like rump!

And THEN tell me he isn't fat!

Now - onto the fun stuff.

Not too long ago, I entered a contest over at Equine VIP. (Never been there? Why not! Go! It is a fantastic site!! This week they are talking to an NFL player who in the off season rides cutting horses. How cool is THAT?) Anyways-- I entered a contest and was fortunate enough to actually WIN!

We got all KINDS of good stuff- a CD, some Sore-No-More spray (LOVE.THAT.PRODUCT. Hooves down- LOVE IT.), some Laser Sheen Shampoo, and some Laser Sheen detangler.

The shampoo I gave to my husband's niece, who just got her very first horse. The kid has a clean OCD going on, and well.. I feel sorry for her as she got herself a cremello. From what I understand, the shampoo has come in quite handy thus far! (More on that at a later date.)
Edit: Niece said shampoo lathers very well, rinses easy, and leaves coat feeling soft and silky. Four hooves up!

The detangler though... oooooo baby. I kept that for Phat Boy.

 Before Primping, above and below

 As you can see, the boy routinely gets a big case of bed head going on. Combing it out took ages. Literally. I was always afraid of damaging the hair in his mane and tail, so I spent extra time finger combing each and every little snarl out.

And when you have THAT much tail.. well.. let's just say my fingers got mighty dang sore.

 You have NO IDEA just how excited I was when the note hit my inbox saying, "You Won!! Look for packages in the mail containing your prizes!" I let out a squeal and a demented giggle (you should have seen the looks I got for that from my family. *sigh*)

And then when the package ARRIVED! I did a happy dance. Giggled some more. Told Phat Boy about it. And TODAY I made time to test out the detangler on his long lovely mess of a mane and tail.

 Post Primping, above and below

Here is what I learned:
- A little bit goes a long way
- It is not greasy and did not leave a residue on my hands (AMEN! I hate that greasy feeling from some products out there.)
- It is a nice, thick formula that does NOT drip and run all over the place (AMEN AGAIN!)
- Phat Boy's mane combed out wonderfully. His tail did too- in less than half the time it would normally take me. Which means my arms did NOT feel like they were about to fall off at any moment.

EDIT To Ad: Twenty four hours later, it was still incredibly easy to finger comb both mane and tail! No greasy residue, no nasty silicone/ plastic feeling on the hair. Love it!!

The only thing I don't care for about it? The scent. I'm not a big scent person- most everything I buy and use, I try to avoid things with perfumey smell to them. Most times it is because it bugs my allergies. The rest of the time it is just because I really can not stand foo-foo smelling crap. But for the results I got today? I'd tolerate the foo-foo scent to use this on a regular basis on Phat Boy. (Who also does not like foo-foo scents. Pony has good taste!)

Will I buy more? Oh. Heck. Yes. This is some GOOD stuff!


Next up on the agenda? I have a PLAN. More in depth on this in the next post, but let's just say I've felt a bit lost for quite a few years now, with no particular direction to go in. But NOW! We have a PLAN! And Phat Boy is going to learn some new skillz! BUWAHAHAHAHAHA~ (Oh.. shoot.. did I do that out loud? Sorry!)

Happy Weekend everyone! Hope you get in loads of saddle time!
~MM

A Phine, Phat Pony!

 This picture is from early this past April. I love it.

 And this one is from the other day, during our one and only

SHAMPOO bath. 

Lutin says, "Woman, I'm warning you! Get that crap AWAY from me!"

 Lutin says, "See? I TOLD you to get that crap away from me!"

 HoneyMare, "I'm outta here. He's nuts."

 "Now WATCH me, Woman! I will run all that crap off me!"

(Hey I never said he was the BRIGHTEST pony on the block.)

 "If I run fast enough, I'll smell like a HORSE instead of foo-foo crap."

 "Must! Go! FASTER!"

 "Omphff... My belly is getting in the way."

 Merp: "WEEEEEE!!! RUN PHAT BOY!"

 "I've got your PHAT BOY right here you miserable little punk!"

Comparing this photo to the very top one, I'd say his royal mane and forelock have grown considerably.

I confess. 

As a child, 

I always dreamed about having a pony or a horse with a long mane. 

A forelock that would hang down past my regal mount's muzzle.

A tail that would drag the ground and float along as my majestic steed effortlessly trotted along.

Obviously I had too much time on my hands.

Lutin the Phine, Phat Pregnant Gelding has a tail that drags the ground.

A mane that is getting longer and thicker every day.

A forelock that is creeping down his expressive face.

And I have a heck of a time keeping up with all that dang hair!!

Careful what you wish for kids!

Happy Labor Day Weekend. I hope everyone can ride, play, and have a slew of horse time.

~MM