I Hate Robo-Calls
Ring. Ring. Ring. (I pick up phone.)
Silence. Followed by automated voice.
"Hello. This is a... call... for... {mispronounced name}. If you are not— {mispronounced name}, please hang up and dial—"CLICK. (I hang up.)
(I reconnect, listening for dial tone. I hear automated voice continuing.)
"800... 7... 5... 8—"CLICK.
(
Buzz? No...)
"...by staying on the" CLICK "—line, you ack-" CLICK "-ledge that you are—" CLICKCLICKCLICK!!!! "—{mispronounced name}. Please stay on the line—"(Rip cord out of phone jack. Wait 10 seconds. Reconnect.)
"—by staying on the line, you acknowledge that you ARE..."AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH
CLICKCLICKCLICK!!!! PUNCH RANDOM NUMBERS STAR KEY ANYTHING JUST MAKE IT STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!
"...this very important message for {mispronounced name}. Thank you."Silence.
Click.
Reconnect.
Buzz.
Star 69. (Fuming, because I am NOT {mispronounced name} and I tried like he77 to hang up so as to avoid acknowledging that I am... {mispronounced name})
"We're sorry. The last incoming call cannot be traced because it is out of the service area or marked private".Grrrrrrrrrrr.
Labels: whines and rants
Re: NoAnn's Fabrics and a Spout-Off
In response to comments...
Trillian, sorry to hear that your store is gone, too!
Emily, yes. Ben Franklin's is still here, but that is the issue. It's
only cotton and acrylic and a scant few Paton's skeins. I am glad they exist and I don't mind the occasional project made out of ack, but quite honestly? (and Emily, this is not aimed at you; your comment merely inspired the rant. :-D )
/begin rant
I like knitting socks out of fingering weight superwash wool and blends. I like wool, silk, alpaca, mohair. I weave, so I like to get my yarn on cones sometimes. I am learning to spin sheep fluff. BFs and Hobby Lobby don't carry anything like that, last time I checked.
As far as fabric, I like to sew using suit-quality wovens; I like fancy fabric (but not sequins or bric-a-brac). I am not a quilter (yet) but when I become one (highly likely), I would like to have a wide variety of quality fabric with modern options like batik prints.
I'll admit it. I am a yarn and fabric snob, and proud of it (lol). But it seems that my only options now (if I wish to shop in town) are to find a source for undyed yarn and fabric that is to my liking, and dye/print/weave it myself. Or open up my own bricks and mortar fiber shop.
I don't mind paying $12.99/yard for good fabric that hangs well and sews up well, or $20 for a skein of sock yarn. I
do mind having my choices limited to cheap fabric and man-made plastic yarn. After all, isn't this the typical stereotype of "homemade and handknit"? Granny's hideous toilet roll cover crocheted out of bargain bin Red Heart in colors that don't appear in nature? Homemade clothing that is easily differentiated from haute couture?
There's a reason for the stereotype, IMHO, and the dearth of better fabric and yarn stores in a town only promotes that image. /rant
Labels: whines and rants
I Don't Generally Complain, But...
/begin rant
Whomever is claiming my phone number and possibly also my last name and first initial but not first name, then signing up for things, not paying the bills, and letting the collections company give ME heart failure over it,
STOP IT RIGHT NOW.
First, it was Charter Communications last week. They left a cryptic robo-call message on my machine. It gave the name of the rep, the company name, and said, "please call the number at the bottom of your statement about this important matter".
Well, I've never even HEARD of them. So I googled. OK. It's a cable company. Still. I looked up their customer service number. I also googled to see if there were complaints about them (many, but not like my experience).
I called.
The rep said, "OK, if you give me your account number, I can look up the data, but it's about an unpaid bill."
OK... but I don't HAVE your service. Therefore, I don't have an account number.
The rep on the other end of the line asked for my zip code. I provided it. He was shocked.
"Uh, ma'am? We don't even service your state. So... it's not possible for you to have an account with us."
As I said. So... WHO IS USING MY NUMBER?
They said, because it's an unpaid bill, the service will eventually be disconnected, which doesn't affect me, of course, since I'm not a customer, but the calls should stop after that. So just bear with, and should an actual human attempt to make contact prior to shutting off services, try to intercept the call and explain to them this situation.
Nice. Let my machine fill up with these robo-things until the company gives up.
Oddly, there have been no further calls since.
Today, I get a robo-call from MCO or NCO Financial, stating it is an attempt to collect a debt.
Again. WHO ARE YOU? Nobody I do business with. They left a number. I called.
By the time the rep finished his rambling unintelligible spiel about how this was anattempttocollectadebtandthiscallmayberecordedforsecuritypurposes (at least, that's what I could make out), I was a bit irrational.
I said I'd received a call from your company and asked quite tersely who they represented (Charter, maybe?). He stated their own company's name. I said, "I don't do business with you nor have I ever heard of your company. And I've been having trouble with calls coming in on debts that have nothing to do with me, so I'd like to know who it is that is using my number."
He said "we're looking for a Ms. ______". And gave my last name. I repeated the name as if I'd never heard it before, just to be on the safe side.
He said "Yes, _____." And gave a female name that STARTS with my initial, but isn't my name.
I said, "Well, that's not me."
"Do you KNOW a _____?"
Nope!
"So then we have the wrong number."
I said, "Yes, and I'd like to know WHO this person IS because I'm tired of getting their calls!" I then told him about Charter.
He said jokingly, "Well, if you'd like to pay her bill for her, we'd accept that."
I said, "I have a better idea. How about SHE pay MY bills. That would work for me."
He chuckled and said "When we track her down, we'll have her do that."
I said good. He said my number would be removed from the list.
Now. Here's what I'm thinking happened. With cell phones and Vonage, it is possible to live in one part of the country but have a phone number from elsewhere. My friend moved to Minnesota for a year or so, but took a cell with a local Ohio number with him so he could call home for free. He never got phone service IN Minnesota. Didn't need it. So, it's plausible that he could have and probably did sign up for utilities in MN, and provided his Ohio number.
Same with my friend who stayed here a few weeks. He had Vonage. So his number was local to Nebraska. But he was in Ohio, and he got a cell phone here. Then he moved down South. I can only imagine...
So it is also plausible that someone either looked UP a phone number in another state bearing the same last name (sort of like identity theft but without the financial implications) so they could provide a number and get services without being easily trackable; or someone made up a number that happened to be mine; or... someone is purposely using my number.
I don't care which it is, just, whomever you are, STOP. Because I get enough calls of my own without dealing with yours.
/end rant
Labels: whines and rants
So Long, W!
Warning: liberal and full of Bush-bashingSo Bush's outgoing speech declares that we as a nation will "
never tire, never falter and never fail".
Anyone who has done an in-depth study of the
LOA and
NLP is shaking their heads in disgust right now because they know, as I know, that Bush's declaration is full of NEGATIVES: which means, if his desire is that we avoid experiencing these things, well, he Bushed it up as usual.
Remove the negatives and what do you get?
Tire, falter and fail!Bush just declared that our nation will do exactly that. Nice going, W.
And his White House took "decisive measures" to safeguard the economy? Whose economy, might I ask? Certainly not mine.
The last bit of moosepucky to which I must respond is this bit of self-serving drivel:
As the years passed, most Americans were able to return to life much as it had been before Nine-Eleven.
Oh, really? I'm sure I and the other hundreds of thousands of people who have been struggling financially, who have lost their jobs and have been unable to find another even
with a PhD in many cases, would disagree with that statement.
For me, "life before 9/11" meant I had a house with a mortgage I could afford because I had a JOB that paid well and seemed stable. But AFTER 9/11, that changed. I was working in print production at a print shop. Our clients were ad agencies. Anyone who has ever been near the ad industry is aware of the parasitic symbiotic relationship between advertising and the state of the economy.
When the economy collapses, so do the ad agencies because the first thing businesses do is find an area in which to cut costs. The first area they look at is advertising, THEN payroll, because advertising is a "luxury" (in their eyes, even though we were taught in ad classes it's the opposite). So the businesses that provided the ad agencies with the meat, potatoes, bread and butter pulled their projects and tightened their belts. No ad work meant nothing to print. No print jobs meant nothing for me to do all day, and my company had to tighten its belt too, so...
To be brief and to the point: 9/11 happened, the economy crashed, and so did my job as well as my industry. And there it has lain for the past seven years.
The seven years following 9/11 have been the worst years of my life, financially speaking, coupled with the whole parental loss thing. There have been bright spots, of course, but...
I'd GLADLY go back to my pre-9/11 life. Sorry, Bush. You're full of it, and I am so looking forward to Tuesday January 20, 2009. Bring on the Obamanation.
Labels: whines and rants
Nobody's Mentioning the Steroids
So Big Brown didn't win the Belmont, and 30 years go by without a Triple Crown winner. I'm not surprised. When I heard the offhand comment, I knew he wouldn't win.
Trainer Rick Dutrow decided to change Big Brown's regimen. Brown had been getting monthly steroid injections. Of course, the racing society questioned it, and wondered if it affected his ability to win the first two races (Derby and Preakness).
So Mr. Dutrow decided that Brown would race clean and declined to give him his May 15th injection.
Y'know, when you have the biggest race in horse racing history on the line, you would generally not want to mess with a successful regimen. Would you?
Because he ran so badly, everyone's all in a lather about what might be wrong with him. They have vets looking down his throat into his windpipe searching for internal bleeding and so on. They're questioning whether the quarter crack in his hoof had anything to do with it. (My gelding gets those all the time. It's when their hooves are too long and they aren't wearing down properly or they are trimmed wrong. It doesn't stop him at all.)
But nobody is mentioning the steroids.
Could it possibly be as simple as that?
What is it they say? When you hear hooves, you think "horse", not zebra? (As in, look for the obvious)...
*sigh*
Labels: whines and rants
I Prefer My Faith Stirred, Not Shaken
Alas, we had an ice storm tonight, foiling my plans to attend InsanKnitty. Just going out to get milk was life-threatening. If I hadn't been down to the last tablespoon, I'd have just stayed in.
Now for a more serious note.
Usually, I'm upbeat, positive, a veritable fountain of wisdom and esoteric existentialism. Nothing seems to get me down, right?
Usually, that's the case.
Despite my latest epiphanies (which I haven't gone into here) about the nature of fear, how I realized I have nothing to fear because fear is just a signal to ask the Higher Consciousness for help, about how nobody can think my thoughts for me/only I can think my thoughts therefore what others say to me or about me should roll off because they aren't necessarily truths therefore they cannot control me...
Despite all of this, I'm in a spot.
It's a spot that is severely testing my ability to stay focused on the preferred outcome and stay positive. It all has to do with the estate, which has gone on far too long IMHO for something that is really relatively simple to settle.
It's very clear cut. There are two houses and a chunk of cash and two people to split it between. Mother gave me the option to keep one house as my residence because I'd lived there for most of my life and because I moved back home to care for them. The other house, which is being sold, appraised higher, so the deal is, when it is sold, the other party gets cash from the proceeds equivalent to the appraisal value of the house I've chosen to keep and we split the additional leftover and split the other cash.
Fair enough, right? The lawyer outlined the distribution in a very clear cut manner shortly after Mother died, and we were both fine with it, although this was
before the houses were appraised; we both thought the house I'm living in would appraise higher. (Surprise. Apparently a house on nine acres is worth more than a house on a half acre no matter what condition it's in.)
It was just a matter of waiting through the Probate process before it settled. And it was
almost over with last summer.
But then, a complication arose.
*sigh*
There is no way to discuss this without actually going into it, which I want to avoid. But it involves people who feel like they were less "loved" in life than others, petty jealousies, envy, greed, desperation caused by life choices that may not have been the best for them, and control issues. Somebody decided they were being, uh, less compensated than they felt they were "entitled" to be, and complained to the lawyer—
who took their side.
Note: the complainee was NOT me. I have always felt that the equal half division was more than fair to both of us. After all, it's a GIFT from our parents—not an entitlement.
This placed me in a rather defensive position last summer and I've been trying to take the path of least resistance rather than giving in and fighting fire with fire because frankly, I see a mess of negative energy being tossed around, and I want no part of it. I know that what goes out comes back multiplied. I'm doing what I can to lessen the burn marks, so to speak.
And then today I get some news regarding the distribution. More cow kaka. More upset. More twisted injustice. If I told you, you'd think that it sounded completely ridiculous. It is—except when it's affecting
you and your future personally.
It was difficult, but I chose with all my might to see this as a test, to prove that all the spiritual and emotional work I've done since discovering the LOA in May is actually sunk in. I made a conscious decision to look past the onslaught of negative emotions this news upended within me and to try to maintain the inner peace I'd finally won. I remembered something Joel Osteen said in a recent telecast, how when the enemy starts to fight you harder, it's a sure sign you're about to succeed because they're more determined than ever to stop your success.
OK, so maybe it's a sign I'm about to finally succeed, that this is almost overwith, that I can move on with MY life now, because it does seem like the closer we get to finishing it, the more some people have to fight to change how it's being meted out based on very shaky justifications. Justifications of a personal nature that have absolutely no business being brought into a discussion of clear-cut contract law and the distribution of
the wishes of the deceased.
I was successful in righting my mindset for awhile, but it took me four hours to talk myself down from the ledge (so to speak) and some deep meditation before I finally felt centered and at peace. I thought I was fine. But as it goes, night did its magic, and by midnight, I was a mess.
I'm OK for now. Sobbing into 16 pounds of blue purring fur seems to help some.
It's just that nothing seems to be budging for me lately. There is plenty in the works that when it finally gives, relief will come; but it just seems stuck. I realize this is the in-between time, the space of uncertainty between setting intentions and seeing them manifest.
But I'm all alone in this. Oh, I know that God, the Universe, the Higher Consciousness, the FSM or whatever you choose to call that great Divine Life Force is on my side.
On human terms, however, there is just me; and then there is the other party and the other party is bigger in support systems than I am, and the lawyer seems to want to side with them ever since last summer (don't get me started on the ethics of this kind of behavior in a non-criminal contract law case where our Mother paid him to act as mediator—not Attorney for... uh... which one of us is the defendant in a Beneficiary/Will thing? Oh, that's right, NEITHER of us.)
So if you have a heart... please do me a favor.
Pray. Pray for me. Pray for a fast and favorable outcome. Pray for this nightmare to end. Pray for clear heads, reason and rationality to prevail. Pray for things to budge. See me posting an entry screaming with joy that Grandma's house finally sold, the estate finally closed and it all worked out, it went back to the way he said it should go originally (or better). See me writing about how relieved I am that my old house finally found a new owner. (Yes, there are three houses in my life; funny how I can be so rich in property and be increasingly worried about my bill-paying ability.) See me boring you to tears with more hippie dippie positive thinking BS when I finally manifest my preferred outcome.
Just pray, and send some good, helpful vibes my way. The cats and I could sure use the extra energy. While you're at it, send up a little for Tyler, too—he seems to be having a recurrence or it never cleared up to begin with.
You're all in my prayers. Be blessed.
Labels: breaking news, cats, estate nonsense, whines and rants
Niceties
Ah, yes, "niceties". These will be heavily in force as we enter the Hell That Is The Holiday Season.
Now, before you think I'm going all "bah, humbug", let me explain. I'm not anti-holidays. I'm anti-commercialization and anti-fake. If your good cheer is authentic, great! If you are focusing on the Reason for the Season and remembering the true meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas, wonderful. It's the "BIG SALE STARTS AT 4 AM!!!" stuff that I'm opposed to. I mean, come ON.
FOUR in the morning? I thought 6-11 earlybird hours were bad enough but things have gotten completely out of hand. Although... I can see the benefits of moving from eating festivities to naptime to night out on the town to closing down the bars at 2 AM, fortifying one's drunken self with breakfast at an all-night diner (or an after-hours party), then being first in line for the shop-off two hours later.
Yeah. That's gonna work out great.Just think. Now people can get in a good four hours of shopping before arriving at work.
But I've derailed myself here. The subject is niceties. Not "Nice Ties" as in compliments to your Dad, but "niceties", those inane blatherings we must endure when trapped amongst our relatives or our friends and their relatives for several hours in the name of holiday celebration.
My tradition for 43 years was to be with my parents, sister, nieces, and later their spouses (and the occasional boyfriend of mine), noshing on turkey at my parents' home, drinking champagne, playing cards, and having laugh attacks (because we genuinely liked being with each other, or so I mistakenly thought). Parents dead, I'm the only one here, and the rest of them decided almost on the drive out of the cemetery last year that they were scattering to the winds. One comment was "gee, I don't have to worry about getting time off this year". (Sorry to cause
such an inconvenience for you... uh, how many thousands is it you plan to inherit?)
Last year, I reluctantly spent turkey day with my friend B and her family. Not reluctant because it was her family—reluctant because I was still fresh from losing Mom and not sure I was ready to upend my traditions. In other words, I really just wanted to crawl under the covers the day before Thanksgiving and hide until January 3rd. Just make it go away.
But it turned out to be OK after all, so I'm comfortable with repeating the pattern this year. With a twist. This year, I'll also be attending the festivities held by the family of my ex/bf J. Yeah. Not sure I can sum this up in a few sentences, but... we began dating in January 1993. Dated for about 2 years. Played in a band together (yeah, I know, but this time, I'd already been dating him for nearly a year before he begged me to sing for his band so it wasn't like oooh I hooked up with yet another one of my musicians) for 2.5 years. Broke up but stayed friends because we were the main writers of the band and to be honest, our friendship was far more developed than our romantic interests. So we cut out the romantic stuff and became strictly friends. ABSOLUTELY friends. No booty calls, no "just this once". End. Of. Story.
And, as I seem to have a habit of doing, we stayed friends. It's been 14 years now. I was always very open about my dating; he was less open. So I never knew about his gfs except what I gleaned from chats with his sister (also my friend) but I could always tell when he was involved because he'd drop off the face of the earth for a few weeks. Then I'd hear from him again as if nothing happened. But I blew it off as being busy because I do that, too, sometimes. Just drop out of sight for awhile and don't return calls right away.
One thing you need to know about his dating habits. We met through the music store. Since then, the only way he meets women is online. The ONLY way. He's not on Match.com looking for his one true love, though. Nope, he, uh... as I put it when I first learned of this years ago, he "trolls the internet picking up cybersluts". Then he quizzes them to make sure they pass the criteria (decent-looking, no kids, not looking for step-daddy or marriage) and if they do, he chats with them for a couple of weeks then meets them. If they "hit it off", he "dates" them for awhile (a few weeks) until "they lose their flavor".
He has, however, maintained that he really IS seeking true love. We've had many an argument over whether his actions align with what he says he wants (
they don't, IMHO). I think he's going about it wrong (
moves too fast, only in it for physical and I mean if the girl he's known for 10 days hasn't put out by the third in-person date, he drops her and moves on); he thinks I'm "too picky" (
because I've been celibate by choice for far too long, no thanks to Rocker Boy who decided at the wrong time to join me on that road, dammit) and that it's possible I'm "frigid". I assure you, I am anything BUT. I'm just capable of keeping it in my pants until someone WORTHWHILE shows up rather than thinking "
OMG it's been three months I must feed before I diiiieeeeeeee...."
Well. J got his dream job in Minneapolis. He'd been dating someone locally, though—she helped him move. She's talking about selling her house and moving to be with him. J feels differently. He expected that having 700 miles between them would allow it to end naturally (avoid confrontation) because he was bored with her but...
gee. She has money and she's so helpful, so... he's not doing much about it but she continues to maintain it on her own. Most of what I know came from the sister, but J finally opened up about ALL his ex/gfs once he'd safely moved to Minneapolis. (Odd, eh?)
(About 700 miles being an issue? All it did for me and Rocker Boy was bring us closer. 997 miles, now, that's another story. *sigh*)
J arrived in town Monday. We had lunch Tuesday. All he did was talk about how bored he is with this girl, how being away provided perspective he didn't have when he was around her all the time and he sees things he didn't see before (in a negative light). She never ever wears makeup or dresses up—doesn't even
try. He's big on the natural look and he's not a dressup kind of guy, but he says once in a while, you know, if the occasion calls for it, he can dress decently and he'd think she'd want to but she never does. And she's
nice. Calm. Never gets upset. Too easy.
His Mother and sister both think she's exactly what he needs—someone "level-headed, calm, down to earth to balance him out" rather than "overly dramatic" like some of his other exes (meaning me—and they LIKE me, if you can believe that). They want him to marry HER.
Personally I think both of us are wrong for him. He needs someone level-headed, calm and not as prone to emotional expression as I am (I'm a singer—I'm neurotic)—BUT he also needs someone who will challenge him intellectually, stimulate him in other ways (and with as much enthusiasm *cough nymphomania cough*), and stand up to him so that he's never bored.
I asked what he planned to do about her. J said he didn't know. Because where would he stay the rest of the week? (
Uh... your Mom is nice, she has a big empty house, and it's not like you have habits you have to hide or anything... and there is your sister... or your friends?) I pointed this out.
But... she's letting him use her car.
OH. Well, then... I told him I feel sorry for her because she is obviously head over heels for him (she even bought him a cell phone with a local number to ensure he'd keep calling) and is planning a future with him and he's ambivalent at best. He said he's not against
ever getting married to
someone in the future, but it damn sure won't be to HER. Except...
...it's tempting, because he'd be safe and comfortable for the rest of his life. Because she has a good job (in finance, in the boring sector thereof), her own house, he'd never have to worry about the bills being paid because she knows how to do all that...
I was aghast. A
guy telling me he was considering marrying someone safe simply to be taken care of?
I'm glad I'm not dating him anymore. It's OK to be friends with him, though. Different boundaries.
I told J, if you marry her, you'll get bored. Then you'll cheat. Just like your Dad did.
I struck a chord. But he wasn't mad. He was surprised at my honesty and insight. He agreed with me, too. Because Current GF reminds him an awful lot of his mother (who is perfectly nice but not challenging in the least).
Why am I telling you all of this? Because Current will be attending T-Day dinner tomorrow. Current has no idea that she's on the way out. Unless, of course, he took my suggestion to heart and did the only fair thing (break it off with her) and she opts out. Current knows all about me. Current totally supports (or at least doesn't fuss about) his friendship with me. Current let him have her car so he could meet me for lunch.
I know nothing about Current except her first name (which I had to pull teeth to get out of him), what she does for a living, what kind of car she drives, that she has a brother, that her parents live in town, and that she's short, quiet, and has "nappy" blonde hair. I don't know how old she is. I assume they met online. I assume the only reason she is still around is because she overlapped with his moving (see "700 miles makes dating a moot point", above) and because he has no shame in accepting whatever someone generously offers him. (He's not big on giving, though, that's why I dumped him.)
So. I'm a mixture of curiosity and a tad bit of dread. I feel sorry for her. If I were her, I'd feel all kinds of uncomfortable, being in the same room with the Ex That For Some Reason Is Still Around. It would be like dining with his ex-wife or something and having the family enjoying the ex-wife's company, all the inside jokes and stuff. Because I can't imagine she feels all that secure about him if she's clued in to his vibes. She invited him to her parents' holiday dinner and he flat out refused to go. What does that tell you? The way he described it, she's only going to his because she assumes she's invited. I was personally invited by J. In fact, he insisted I come. (As a friend. He attended several of ours as a friend long after we were done. They accepted him as part of the family and his family... vice versa.)
I'm also wondering if he's using my presence as an excuse not to go to her parents' if he needs one. Or if he's going to focus all his attention on me and ignore her to see if she gets the message. I don't have any idea how this is going to go down. It should be interesting. I just hope the poor girl survives it.
Then again, she may not even show up, if she happens to have gotten a clue in the past couple of days.
Y'know, as adamantly as he is about not having any intention of marrying her, he's also a path of least resistance kind of guy. I can see him dumping her, but I can also see her wearing him down until he weighs the options like a business deal, decides with a shrug that it might not be so bad to be a kept man, and marries her anyway. Not for love, mind you. The next chapter of that is him getting divorced (with a shrug) because she catches him cheating. He does not, as a rule, cheat. But he is deceptive. And if he were in a marriage and bored, I can see him going for just so long before he cheats.
Uh, he actually does have a lot of good qualities, too, just so you know.
So that'll be my day: noon with the J-Fam, dinner with the B-Fam. I'm taking Friday "off" from people.
But I'll close with my list of things for which I am thankful this year:
- every blessing that the Good Lord has bestowed upon me
- my cats
- my horses
- my friends (however insane they may be)
- that I had my parents for 43 years
- that I had a great relationship with my parents (overall)
- that I have a nice house in a safe neighborhood and it's mortgage-free
- that I'm still here and healthy *knock wood*
- all the "stuff" I have, even if I'm still unsure where it all fits
- that I have good food to eat, money to pay my bills, a decent car to drive
- that no matter how treacherous the future may look at times, I am, as I realized a couple of days ago, much better off financially and materially than my parents were at my age (and that's without a job, too, which is amazing)
- my talents, intelligence and skills
- that LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL and the best is yet to come
I'm sure there is more, but that sums it up well. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
Labels: gratefulness, holidaze, whines and rants
Nine Hundred
That is the amount, come first of the year, that I may be expected to pay in horse boarding fees if I have three horses AND if the barn manager does indeed raise the board by $100 by then. She called with information about Bella for me, and let me know that due to increased costs for hay and shavings (bedding), she may be raising the board by $50-100 in January.
Since my purple bracelet has yet to arrive and I'm under no obligation to withhold my complaining, I'm free to bitch.
I like this barn. I really do. I like the barn manager couple. I like that their philosophies resonate with mine. I like how they take care of my horses. My horses are happier and healthier than they were at the other place.
However. My old barn charged $225/horse/month for full care with a round pen, outdoor riding arena, and instant access to 18 miles of wooded bridle trails.
My current barn charges $200/horse/month for full care. When I arrived, there were only two pastures, no round pen, no place to ride. Now they've added a round pen and fenced off the back lot, so the two small pastures are suitable riding areas. But there is nowhere else to ride.
If a barn in this area is to justify $300/month per horse, then they need to have an indoor arena or trail access and a much nicer stable (not a barn) than either place has/had. For $300, I could board at a show barn with a heated indoor arena. Granted, they rarely turn out horses onto grass, they balk at Parelli, and I'd probably clash in philosophies, but really. That's a bit rich for my blood. If it goes up to $250, I can swing it for awhile. But if it goes up more than that, rather than increasing, I'll likely be culling my herd down to just one horse (Cheerios) and praying I can find Shaveya a better home. God, I just HATE to do that.
My horses basically exist 24/7 on pasture, only come in during extreme seasons (heat on summer days, cold on winter nights), to eat, or in inclement weather, and one of them isn't even being "used" (ridden, shown, etc). She's special needs, requires extra supplements. All they need is a pasture to live in and an enclosure of some sort for protection. They don't even really need stalls. Partitions to separate them when eating, maybe. But not full-on stalls.
For $900/month, I could own my own property and take care of them myself. (OK maybe a little more, but we're talking house, barn, horse food, etc.).
Maybe that's what the Universe is trying to tell me. Oy. But I'm not
ready. I want to do that test-it-out thing first, where I go visit Nashville and Austin and Vermont and any other place that strikes my fancy, live there for a few weeks each and see how it works for me. I can't just go out and buy a place yet.
Although... if I can swing the board for a little while, I could size up the locations and THEN buy a place. Hmmm.
Jus when you think you have it all worked out, another wrench is tossed into the toolbox.
Labels: breaking news, horses, whines and rants
Non-Responsive
Answering machine updates:
- The machine that was up at my old house, the one with all of Ron's old messages through the years and my Mother's messages, is safe. It was unplugged for well over an hour and it preserved everything.
- The machine my parents used that has my Dad's greeting is safe.
Note that both of those are little cheapo Sprint™ brand machines I bought at Meijer.- The machine I bought to use at my parents' house after Dad died (so I could preserve his message but stop freaking out everyone who called) is the one that commited suicide.
Note that it is a little cheapo GE brand machine that I bought at WalMart and actually thought was nicer than the Sprint machines.I just got off the phone with tech support.
Frustrating. Apparently this has never happened in the entire history of the company. Couple this with a bit of a language barrier and you can understand my irritation. (I'm not being critical here, it's just that usually I'm good at deciphering accents but this guy's was beyond awful, and I get the feeling his grasp of English is limited to the words on the tech support script. Attempts to veer away from the script caused him great confusion.)
He said "I'm sorry ma'am but if you unplugged the machine for longer than ten minutes, it will reset the machine and—""But I didn't do that. All I did was move the adaptor from one plug on the power strip to another. Unplug, plug."Silence.
"Yes, but ma'am but if you unplugged the machine for longer than ten minutes, it will reset the machine and you will lose all of your settings, I'm sorry? Is it under warranty?"Oh boy.
"I don't know.""Was the machine purchased within the last year?""Sometime in 2006, maybe in the fall, but I couldn't tell you exactly when and I damn sure couldn't tell ya where the receipt went."More silence.
"You purchased last fall?""Maybe. But if it was only unplugged for a half second, why is this happening?"Then he tells me to unplug it from the wall and the phone, wait ten minutes, then plug it back in. Then try to record a new outgoing message blah blah blah.
"So basically if I do that, I'll lose everything?""Yes ma'am I'm sorry. This model unfortunately has no battery backup and may lose data in the event of a power outage.""But that's wrong—we've had a couple of power outages this year and the machine has been fine. All the messages were still there." Y'know. Being that it's been digitally inscribed on a computer mini-hard drive chip somewhere and not dependent on a battery. Like the Sprint machines, which also have no battery backup and somehow managed to survive hellacious storms last year, lots of power outages and even transportation from one city to the next one a half hour away with a 45-minute pitstop at Barnes & Noble."Oh...""So in theory, if it wasn't unplugged for more than ten minutes, it should work fine and all my messages or settings and so on should still be there?""Yes ma'am.""OK... so why isn't it working? When I plugged it back in, immediately after unplugging it, the window displayed a solid number 8 and the buttons became unresponsive. No response when I push any button. Nothing happens. Why is that?" (I felt like following with
and the machine is fixed and dilated...)
"A solid eight?""Yes. A solid eight. I had like 30-some messages on that machine (
so it would be flashing 3, then 3, then the dash)
but it's just a solid, non-flashing number 8. What does that mean?""And you are unable to record a new message?""Yes. (No?) When I push a button, NOTHING happens. Nothing at all.""I'm sorry ma'am I don't know why this is. The machine may be defective and need to be replaced. If it is still under warranty, we can replace it for you."I said carefully (realizing it would go faster if I stuck to the script),
"if I want to move the machine in the future, is there any procedure I should follow to ensure that my settings are preserved?""I'm sorry ma'am, no, there are no other procedures. The machine should have worked normally if the power was removed for less than ten minutes. The machine may be defective and need to be replaced."
Yeah, I got that part. You're damned straight it's being replaced.
But NOT with another one just like it. Thanks but NO THANKS. I let him know this, too. Said that I need to trust that my machine will still work following power outages or random relocation.
Sprint, you have won my heart and my undying customer loyalty because so far, you've lovingly preserved my most precious messages, through thunderstorms, power outages, moving, and cats with wayward paws. May that hold true in the future as well.
Labels: things that piss me off, whines and rants
Hoard Any Good Yarn Lately?
So the stranded colorwork has been laid aside until I forget how upset it made me. In its stead, I finished the Waving Laces, started a pair of Embossed Leaves (same book) with the Araucania #310 (OMG is it pretty, I know, photos soon, it's dark out now), did a couple of rows on the CPH ribbing while debating whether or not to rip it out and reconfigure it for steeks except that requires actually reading Eunny's steeking tutorial, casting on a swatch and practicing first plus the whole frogging thing...
Oh, and I got the doors to the yarn closet to shut.
FINALLY!!! I have made goal.
What I did
not do was pull out all the yarn and photograph the stash. I should have. But as I could not even turn around in there until it was all put away, trying to take pictures was out of the question. Another day.
I also realized I have a serious problem. It's not just the yarn. I already knew I had a yarn problem. But I also have... a fabric problem.
All of my sewing projects are in one bin now. They were at the time of purchase stored with notions and sometimes patterns in individual zippered baggies. The baggies have been put inside a bin.
The bin is a 96-QUART bin. It is about 4 feet long, one foot wide, and a foot deep. Like a mini-coffin.
Full.
Of "future western shirts", "future vests" and "future tunics". Some of the fabric I bought when I was doing alterations.
That was 1997.
Problem.
OK, I admit it!
Hello, my name is Jeanne, and I am a hoarder.
No, not "whore"—HOARder. TWO syllables.I hoard yarn. I hoard fabric. I hoard books. I probably hoard cats, too, but at least they can't stack up like the other stuff does (or can they?).
Let's be honest. When one has every room crammed full of stuff (mine and my parents'), has two sheds and a deck room, and still has to pay for another large room to store stuff in, one has
too much stuff.
I gotta have a yarn sale or something.
Labels: whines and rants, WIP
New Beginning
How painful was it to frog eight inches of carefully-constructed stranded colorwork?
Indescribable. Plus I was mad as hell at myself for doing what I always do—forging on, not really
reading the instructions and advisements to carry the strands
loosely lest the work be too tight nor the admonishments that too-loose stitches can be tightened later.
I ripped back all the way to the ribbing. SAD.
I looked at my needles expecting to see that this here idiot had been knitting on 0's.
What do you MEAN, these are 2's? And it was THAT TIGHT?!? Well, then... Gawdeee, should I be on 4's? Does Addi even make Turbos in 4's? *grumble*
I re-knit the first four rows of colorwork l-o-o-s-e-l-y.
Then I put it down and went to bed.
Then I had nightmares of being strangled by too-tight knitting with visions of vicious Addi's dancing snakelike around me.
Right now I'm contemplating which pattern will be suitable for the Araucania and whether I should set aside the stranded colorwork, cast on the Araucania, work on the CPH for a change, or dig out the Traveler's Socks that got lost in the shuffle. Or fix the horrendous oversight on size on my niece's Christmas Socks (2006—too short for her large feet). Or try to finish last year's Christmas scarves for my nephews-in-law. I procrastinate. Can you tell?
Or maybe I should take up stunt flying or some other hobby with less risk involved.
Labels: sockaholism, things that piss me off, whines and rants, WIP
Missed It
Well, by golly, I missed Tuesday Insaknitty—Insanknitty—In—how the heck is that spelled, anyway?
My facial started late due to a mishap in the facial room at the salon involving a lit candle and a box of Kleenex. Did you know that Kleenex is extremely flammable? Neither did I. Neither did my poor facialist. Luckily we caught it just before it got to the curtain. Trial by fire, whoo boy! After she cleaned that up and aired out the room, it was down to business. My face feels and looks great if I do say so myself. But it put me off schedule. And traffic in Toledo was terrible today. Lots of idiots pulling out in front of me. One complete asshat in an SUV was in the lefthand lane at the light. I was on the right. We were both stopped by the red light. The green arrow came up—for the ones in MY lane to turn right if they chose.
Asshat actually blew through the light and turned!!! Right in front of me!!! A right-hand turn from the left-most lane!!!!!! Good thing I wasn't turning or I would be a squashed puppy.
Ass! Hat!
Then I got some news today I did not ever want to hear. Brace yourselves.
Tommy Hilfiger is no longer available in stores, according to the kind folks at Elder-Beerman and Dillards. AGGGGGHHH! This pains me greatly, as my very favorite jeans (Tommy's Boyfriend jeans) have developed holes in a most unsightly place. I will be sitting cross-legged from now on if I wear them in public again. I'd gone to E-B for a replacement pair only to hear this news. *sob* Nothing in their stock fit me well enough or looked nice on, so I changed course and went to Kohl's. This was not on the list of To-Do's. This was, however, on the way to another To-Do (return unopened music software I'd purchased last week).
Kohl's was having a sale, how thoughtful of them. I'm amazed. I found THREE pair(s) of jeans that fit, look nice, and are comfy. And they were on sale. Yay! This is good, because there will be events upcoming for which new jeans will be required. Then it was on to the music store to return the software. What happened was that I had purchased a lesser version of it at one store, not realizing it was not the most
current version despite what I was told. (Big Box Guitar Store. Hate it.) Happened to call Old Haunt guitar store to inquire and confirm this, and found out the truth. Headed over to Old Haunt to buy current version of more expensive software. (Why I didn't just go to Old Haunt in the first place was because I'm "known" around there, haven't been there in over a year, and wasn't in the mood to share "whatcha been dooin'" stories that day.) Got a discount. :-) So today I attempted to return lesser software to BBGS.
Entered store. Waited an interminably long time for the Receipt Police to acknowledge my presence at the door. They must frisk you coming and going, you know. Wouldn't want a guitar pick to escape unpurchased.
Did you know that anything returned to BBGS before the ten day period cannot be refunded? You must return it precisely between Day 10 and Day 14. Excuse me while I sneeze (
*bullshit*) —ah, that's better. Because I'd paid with a check, I would get a check in return. IF I returned it after Day 10. Make another special trip up to Toledo to return it after Day 10. The other option was to get a credit account for stuff in the store. I asked if I could get a refund on that later. I was told the guy was pretty sure I could.
I said "OK. Would you please confirm that before we process it?"
"Sure", says the guy. "I'm pretty sure they'll do it."
*ahem*. Pretty sure? Sorry, not good enough. Before I sign over the rights to my money, I wanna be SURE, not
pretty sure, that I'll be able to get it back in greenbacks when I want it, not take it in guitar picks and strings because I have no choice.
One more time.
"Yes, but I'd like to have that confirmed as an absolute, please, before processing it. If you wouldn't mind." *big smile, bat eyelashes*
Guy looks nonplussed. Blinks. Picks up phone. Dials number. Asks question. It's confirmed. Thank you, go ahead and process it. Wait an interminable amount of time for a receipt.
Then head over to Target because my toilet paper is on sale (hey, ya can't beat a deal where you get two 12-packs for $12 bucks, right?).
Then darnit I was on E, so off to the gas station. Well, by this time it was after 7:30 and I was starving. I resigned myself to a knitless night and headed for home. So, here I am. I wonder what juicy news I missed tonight? Sadly I am all out of juicy news for the time being. Hopefully that will change. Soon.
Labels: breaking news, knit night, music, nothing important, things that piss me off, whines and rants
Exhausted
Oh, I really underestimated this endeavor.
The size of the (very small) truck outlasted the size of our energy levels and enthusiasm. We packed and loaded and crammed that puppy to the gills. This sucker holds four rooms' worth of furniture.
There was still stuff left at the house.
I hauled four rooms' worth of boxed up crap back to my house and there is STILL stuff left to bring home later.
Where in Almighty Heck did all this stuff COME FROM?!? No way I could move into a studio apartment now.
The remaining stuff is smaller, though. It can be easily transported via the car (if I make several trips). It doesn't necessitate renting a mammoth for the day.
I'm upset about one thing, though. After dismantling the computer, then disassembling for what will probably be the last time the poor old computer desk I was using (particle board DIY that has been moved to at least four homes, has moved within those homes, first to second floor, vice versa) to make room for the lovely newer corner workstation I bought a couple of years ago, I had a grave disappointment.
The newer one lived upstairs at my old house. I looked long and hard to find one that would hold all my equipment satisfactorily and allow me room for scribbling. I have a scanner, printer, tower, monitor, keyboard, and a Wacom tablet. That means I need space. I was overjoyed to find this one and waited patiently for it to go on sale. I think I got a year's worth of use out of it. Then I had to move. But it would not quite fit in my bedroom with my bed in there. So it was partially disassembled and put into storage and I used the smaller, older one.
Apparently particle board made in 2005 doesn't hold up as well as particle board made in 1997 because it broke. (Maybe it's the difference between good Sauder and off-brands.) The wood gave way in the move. Of course, it's the base of the thing which the corners branch off of, and the part where the very expensive tower portion of my Mac would reside. We tilted it and it collapsed like it was made of butter and fur.
Mad.
Mad, mad, mad.
My friend thinks it may be salvageable with L-brackets and/or wood glue, but I don't know. I nosed around online, and cannot find anything that looks like it would work as well as the broken one, or looks as stylish.
I am so mad.
The OTHER desk survived all the moves really well, and it was disassembled, moved and reassembled several times. Why did IT survive, while my beautiful *snif* wonderful *sob* spacious newer one not?
Tomorrow I'll look at a few desks and see if anything strikes me; if not, off to Home Dep*t we go for L-brackets. You probably wonder, well, what is she typing on, then?
Tsheh.
I plugged in only the monitor, modem and tower (bare minimum). The monitor and keyboard are sitting temporarily on a UTILITY CART. *sigh*
Well, I guess I
did say I wanted to purge and downsize...
Labels: whines and rants
I Had No Choice
I worry too darned much. It's my nature, I guess. Mother always said I overworried. (They are always right, aren't they?)
I wound up having no choice in the matter of Law vs. Econ.
Meaning, I didn't have to choose one over the other. Law Prof had no problem with me taking the test after Econ. It was a non-issue, which I, of course, mentally blew way out of proportion and gave myself a conniption over it.
So, I went to Law, listened to the guest speaker; went to Econ, ACED the quiz because it was lifted from the quiz at the end of the chapter, so if you'd read it and done the self-quiz, you were golden (which I had); then I went back and took my test. I did OK, I think.
Hell, maybe I'll wind up pulling a B after all in BOTH classes.
I worry too darned much. I really have to stop this. But I thank you for your support and the "buck up it'll all work out" comments. It helps.
Tomorrow after class I'm leaving for Pittsburgh for a day. My fiber arts prof (K), a visiting scholar from Korea (whose name I can't pronounce), and me are attending the Fiber Forum at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts Saturday. It will be very strange sharing a hotel room with my professor. I know, she's just a person, but, y'know, weird. I haven't even met the other girl yet.
Two weeks left, then finals, then freedom (of a sort). Freedom from scheduled daily obligations. We don't want to tempt the Universe, now, do we? I plan to fill the void (left by 70 hours of schoolwork per week) with FUN stuff, stuff I WANT to do, not "have" to do. Like weaving for myself. Knitting. Sewing. Horseback riding and horseplay. Dyeing yarns and scarves. Painting. Sunning myself. Having a social life. In between cleaning and organizing the houses and finishing the Estate stuff, of course. But you know what I mean.
So, Universe? Don't get any ideas about rushing in to fill that void. I already have the Void rented out to other opportunities waiting in the wings. My Void has NO vacancies.
Have a great weekend, y'all. When I return, I'll remind myself to post my thoughts about Creative Abrasion. Laterz.
Labels: college life, whines and rants
Woe Vent
If anyone can catch the fiber-related pun in the title, then you're obviously as sleep-deprived as I am.
I apologize for giving my readers horrible flashbacks to grad school. LOL! But really. This is just the
test semester for grad school. I'm not even officially
in grad school yet. But at least I know better than to overload myself.
I think.
Still haven't won the lottery. Some lucky person in New York won my $105 million. Darn it. (OK, it wasn't mine, or I'd have won it, but I really was hoping.)
School Update:- C&I: finished the Journal, turned it in on time
- Econ: read all seven chapters, survived the test (I think I did well, I felt confident)
- Law: grazed the chapters, marked the vital passages with P*st-its, survived Part One (Part Two is Monday)
- Weaving (in the lab): spent an hour and a half calculating measurements for the doubleweave (to figure out what part of the warp to pick up to make the design fit), realized it was FUBU; spent an hour ripping out 5 inches of double weave (which is really 10 inches because it's, well, double); spent a good 6 hours re-weaving it with minor ripbacks because I kept screwing it up; repaired a broken warp thread; got about three inches past where I'd been when I realized it was FUBU and quit for the day (at 1:00 AM on a Friday night, boy, talk about social life)
- Surface Design: did the quilting portion of the piece that's due Monday; only have to turn the edges under and finish cleanly. Sounds easy; except it's blind stitched by hand. Ow, ow, ow, carpal tunnel pain, ow ow.
Now if I can just get started on next week's crop of work:
- write a Reflection for C&I on the team exercise we did
- write a huge paper (when?!? class from 9-9 Monday) about my Two Great Innovations that was supposedly due the 19th but is suddenly due the 10th
- read the rest of Law for the test (which is first thing Monday, for which I shall spend all day Sunday studying along with finishing Monday projects)
- read three new chapters of Econ*
- read stuff for C&I
- finish doubleweave
- I'm sure there is something I'm forgetting....
Oh,
taxes. Yeah. Those. Well, I've done nothing for five years, collected no income. Except I'm trapped in a self-employment loop because right after I lost my job five years ago, I was still smarting over it, so I told the IRS I was
self-employed, because I was honestly trying to start a freelance business and was too proud to say
un-employed. Because I worked a whole nine weeks in the last five years (in 2002 and 2004), I had to claim the income; self-employed, home business (because I did it from home), expenses, etc. Then Turbo Tax made me take a Net Loss.
Therefore, I am forever screwed. I should have visited an accountant ASAP rather than try to get out of that loop by myself. I still have a week. My parents' accountant knows I'm on the way with my tax info from the past five years.
All of today was taken up by my
horses. Toenail-trimming day for the equines. My apologies in advance if anyone reading this is a traditional farrier. I have become rather passionate in my endorsement of all things natural and sometimes I may offend traditionalists without realizing it.
An issue has developed with the current barn managers over my mare's ongoing lameness problem. I started studying natural hoofcare last year and took a few seminars, bought the equipment, but then the parents got sick and I discovered how much the farrier position hurts my knees and back. But I learned a LOT about how horses are affected by food, grasses, environment, different ground surfaces, chemicals, trimming methods, shoeing, etc.
When I got my mare May 2005, I wasn't expecting her to be lame two months later. It's been a long process. It involved seeing a couple of different vets, a chiropractor/acupuncturist, a nationally-ranked farrier, a psychic (yeah, don't laugh), having her xrayed, blood drawn, etc etc etc. They ruled out the Big Nasties: navicular, laminitis, founder, coffin bone rotation, cancers, other diseases. They diagnosed a little sidebone (ossification of the lateral cartileges) but nothing big enough to cause severe lameness (she looked like she needed a wheelchair at her worst). The farrier recommended shoes on all four feet, but our barn doesn't allow hind shoes and I'm philosophically opposed to pounding nails into their feet anyway, so that lead me to Natural Hoofcare and the
AANHCP and my Natural Hoof Care Practitioner (NHCP).
My mare was trimmed to go barefoot. Barefoot trims are based on the way wild hooves look and function (wild hooves are self-trimming, and wild horses don't suffer the hoof problems domestic horses have). It looks different from the traditional farrier trim. In the Jaime Jackson method endorsed by the AANHCP, hooves are
not trimmed to a specific, standard angle; rather they are trimmed according to how each individual foot angles (natural angle). One hoof might have a different angle than the other. It's hard to describe how it looks.
...The quintessence of the model is to mimic, through regular trimming, the natural hoof wear patterns that take place in wild horse country... it is a matter of removing what nature would have worn away under natural circumstances... the excess growth and waste material, that, just like iron shoes, hampers the hoof from functioning properly and growing strong. The wild horses themselves have proven that natural wear stimulates the growth of strong healthy feet. Likewise, the effectiveness of the wild horse model for improving the hooves of domesticated horses has been confirmed by experienced practitioners around the world.
If you're really interested,
this article in the Paint Horse Journal explains it better than I can.
The object is to balance the HORSE—not the hoof, if that makes sense. Logic would tell us that Nature made things asymmetrical. The common method is to have the hooves look even with perfect industry-standard angles. But, let me ask you this: are both of your legs exactly the same length? How about your feet? Do both feet point perfectly forward, are all your toes a uniform length and shape?
Probably not. I know mine aren't. One of my knees kind of cocks inward (the opposite of bow-legged), and I stand like a duck.
Horses aren't made uniformly, either. So, why trim them so that the
hooves ascribe to uniform perfection? Now hold that thought.
Her diet was changed to oats, mineral supplements and Organic Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar. NO sweet or pelleted feed. No sugar. No molasses. Also no chemicals. Natural non-chemical dewormer. No grass! It's because of the sugar factor. The thought was that my horse may be insulin-resistant—sort of like diabetic.
Within six weeks, her demeanor had changed, she was bright-eyed, happy, trotting, cantering, all but the smallest trace of soreness was gone. It took my NHCP a full year of correction through trimming (and diet) to get my mare about as sound as she could be (comfortable, pain-free, and rideable), and to develop a good hoof wall and thick soles. I thought we were on the road to recovery at last.
But the feeding regimen is a PITA for the barn managers. Our barn has also changed managers five times in six years. The previous BMs were very efficient and did what owners asked. The new BMs? I'm not so sure.
My mare has gone lame a few times over the past two years. Every time, I've traced it back to going off of her feeding regimen. They ran out of something so they switched to sweet feed in the meantime (because it couldn't possibly
hurt the horse any, it's mostly corn, right? RIGHT. Which converts to SUGAR. And Sweet Feed—ahem,
sweet—has molasses in the top five ingredients. AKA sugar.).
A couple of weeks ago, I got a call from the barn manager's manager complaining about my horse, she was dead lame, lying in the pasture for 4-6 hours at a time, could hardly move, and "you have to get out there and
do something about her". I called the barn. I asked questions.
Yep. They ran out of oats, didn't bother to let me know they'd run through the five bags already, and put her on the house feed. Pelleted. Not sweet. So it's "better". Took her off her supplements, her ACV, her dewormer. So she'd been back on bad food for nearly a month.
Thus began the discussion. It is evident that it is becoming a clash of philosophies. BM is trying to convince me it's her feet, she's body sore, she's dead lame, it's probably navicular or laminitis and she needs xrays, and she'll probably need shoes and diet isn't the cure-all (it's a coincidence). I maintain that my NHCP and I
ARE doing something, have been for nearly two years, she's made dramatic improvements (ask anyone in the barn who has witnessed it), put her back on her feed and follow the plan and see, and I can't do more than that until I'm done with finals in three weeks.
My NHCP is mentoring a practitioner-in-training who is within a closer travelling distance, so my NHCP-IT is handling the trimming with her Mentor consulting and overseeing. My NHCP-IT was out today doing the trims. My mare, oddly enough, looked FINE. The NHCP-IT commented that she was moving better than she was five weeks ago. She sure didn't look dead lame to either of us. She looked downright rideable.
Today, NHCP-IT and the BM had a discussion about my mare while she trimmed. I thought we were all on the same wavelength after she explained to him why we were doing what we were doing and how it works. It was all good—although he did comment, "you
are aware that the angles are different on those front hooves", to which she replied with a smile, "yes" (because that's
naturally how her feet angle). Then she left, and the tune changed.
I get the feeling that because she's in training, BM doesn't think she knows enough to know what she's doing. While I stood there shivering from the bitter cold (having much earlier lost the feeling in my feet), he proceeded to fill my ear with a half hours' worth of HIS opinion on what needs to be done, a rather scathing comment about the trim method, how it was pretty close to what he'd have done except he'd have done
this or
that (please note that the
this and
that is exactly what we DON'T want done because the
thises and
thats are what contribute to lameness in the first place!!!) and then he emphatically stated, "I don't care what she says, that horse is DEAD LAME" and provided me with "evidence". Funny. I didn't see any of that (neither did NHCP), and I was looking at my horse very very very closely.
Did I mention the BM is also a farrier? One whose main business income is from shoeing? And there is a baby on the way in their family? And that the mother is also a farrier/shoer, who in her current condition is no longer able to trim or shoe for awhile?
Hmm.
What irks me is that people are making decisions about my horse and changing things to suit
them, when it is MY horse and they have no business interfering. Their job is to make sure my horse is fed according to my preferences, watered, turned in/out, and that the inside and outside environments in which my horse lives is kept safe and comfortable (no dangers that might hurt them). They are also to ALERT me to problems. That's it. ALERT. Not "make decisions about how to fix it without the owner's knowledge or input". I didn't decide to feed her some crazy diet on a whim. I'm doing it after much research and consultation with both my vet AND my trimmer (who are in agreement). I am most certainly "doing" something to help her. But there are no quick fixes. Transitioning to barefoot takes time; so does overcoming major issues related to the health of a living organism like the hoof. It happens gradually. Natural hoofcare only fails when people are too impatient to follow the program for the six months it may take (or longer) to see noticeable results.
Y'know, I bet these would be easier to read if I'd just post smaller chunks throughout the week rather than put in a marathon procrastination-by-blogging session. I'll try to do better. End of my rant. Time for bed.
*Source: AANHCP Press Release, 10.27.2006, "About the new AANHCP Natural Trim Guidelines", www.aanhcp.net
Labels: college life, horses, whines and rants
I'd Like Some Cheese With My Whine, Please
Ever wake up with a headache? I did this morning. It's likely muscular. Yesterday after Econ and a lunch break, I went to the art building and worked from 3:00 PM til 10:00 PM on my fibers projects. I bounced back and forth between the rooms. First I worked on the painting for surface design, then I let it dry for a bit while I worked on warping the loom for my wall hanging. Then I'd give my fingers a rest and go back to painting. Or, stamping, that is, because on this project we're recreating on a yard of fabric a famous Impressionist work of our choosing (I've chosen Pierre Bonnard's "Nude in Bathtub", below) but we are NOT allowed to use brushes—we are to find another way to apply the dye. Then we'll be whacking it up and embellishing it somehow (more to come on that once we're told what we'll be doing).
And on it went, until I finished the painting, hung it to set for steaming Monday, and got to the point of rolling back the warp in preparation for tying onto the front and discovered not one, but two, errors.
In between, there was a lot of bending over and hunching.
So my head hurts. It feels like someone took a baseball bat to the back of my neck. The Tylen*l is helping a bit. It sucks because I'd planned to warp my home loom for making scarves for the Market Day at the end of the month. I warped three separate warps for it—boy that sounds redundant, but how else do you say it?
Warp is a noun AND a verb when referring to weaving. The point is, dare I hunch over another loom in this condition?
My friend wants to have dinner and SnB tonight. Can my fingers take it? For anyone who has yet to warp a loom, there is a considerable amount of tedium involved prior to the actual weaving part (hence ya gotta love it to do it) and much of it involves lining up the ends of the yarn nice and neat in little rows before tying knots just so and tying to the loom. The wider the piece, the more lining up and tying you do, and it gets to the fingers after awhile. Fingers, neck, head... I need a massage!!! SPA DAY! I call a spa day. Let's go. Where is there a spa around here?
Oh. The errors? Relatively minor. I somehow crossed two yarns while threading the heddles (Error #1). I've set up for doubleweave, which means I have two warps at once on the same loom, one on top of the other. Normally, each dent (hole) in the reed holds one warp thread. In doubleweave, each dent carries one warp thread from each warp, so there are two threads in one hole. My error caused one of the warp threads to be trapped under the crossed ones in the other warp. Argh. It's easy enough to fix, once I've rolled back. I can just rethread those yarns in the reed before tying to the front.
Error #2 is A-nnoying. I carefully warped two warps of different colors, both 15 inches wide and two yards long, individually (for my own sanity). Somehow, I mis-wrapped one go-round on one warp. I discovered this as I was combing the warp with my fingers to separate the yarns in preparation for winding back. My finger caught and I thought, HUH? Yeah. I looped it too soon. I have to make a mini-warp two yards long consisting of two whole threads to replace the two threads that are actually a short loop of yarn just long enough to fool me when I sleyed the reed and threaded the heddles. It's annoying for that reason and because I now have to untie a very firmly tied overhand knot to pull out the shorties and replace with the new ones. It also means lining up that chunk again (oh, the pain). Argh.
Oh, well. Could be worse. Could ALWAYS be worse.
Eh, apparently ranting and whining helps. I seem to feel a bit better now. Dinner and SnB is suddenly looking rather appealing. Good thing, since I'm supposed to meet her in a half hour. Better run (or jog, or limp...)!
Labels: college life, whines and rants
