Hot Potato Space Boots!

Yep, that's my Mexican Pony! I'd recognize her anywhere! Maggie was (somewhat) cooperative about having me apply therapeutic poultices and swaddling her left front hoof. Hence her "Hot potato space boot" look. (She was also very nosy about what my camera was- that's her pink nose attempting to snuff the camera.) But she's been "off" and ouch-y on this foot; hence we haven't been out riding in about a week. The only good thing I can say about that is that it's been so ungodly hot and sticky that if Maggie's got to be out of commission riding-wise, it might as well be when the weather sucks!

Here's a better picture to explain why I run late every morning: I assemble a fine goop of Epson salts, iodine and a bit of water, make a paste, lift Maggie's foot, apply the mixture and then (attempt) to gracefully wrap a disposable baby diaper up around her hoof, securing it all with duct tape. Hey! I'm nearly a pro, having to do both of Crispin's feet last year... remember that hilarity? Believe me, Maggie is much more tolerant and cooperative.
The vet came out to give Maggie her shots on Wednesday. I was able to have him take a look at her hoof, but same as me, he couldn't find any swelling, no sign of heat or abrasions or punctures... just her favoring the foot, every fifth step or so. The good doctor recommended I keep on applying the above dressing, saying if it's an abscess it might take a while to draw out.

Simply another picture of my Mexican pony attempting to do a handstand.
And here's Jules, as he gets jealous if Maggie has her picture taken more than he does. He's very photogenic, but sometimes, surprisingly, a bit camera shy.

He's been busy digging a hole beside the wood pile so as to lay in the damp dirt and cool off. I had been thinking to finish up my garden planting with the help of my capable assistant Jules, but the tree guys showed up next door with uber-loud wood chippers to finish off a brush pile. We were driven indoors by the awful noise. What is it about a suburban Saturday morning that abhors quiet?

What a Fun Guy!

Bob calls to me saying, "Hey! Come and look at this!" A remark like this can go either way: as in a really cool thing to see, or something so gross that you want to hurl.
We practice giving one another these kinds of experiences. I am especially fond of luring Bob to me with a "come hither" look, get him all ready for a kiss and then I transfer something from my mouth to his. He's on to me now, and I usually start laughing while attempting to prevent whatever is in my mouth from falling out... you get the picture. But it's especially effective when you haven't seen what's being "delivered" as just feel alone is sometimes pretty peculiar. Things like marshmallows, partially mouth-melted chocolate; I guess the possibilities are truly endless.
So my first response to Bob was a guarded, "Is it a good thing or a bad thing?" As seen above, it was a really weird thing. On the compost pile were these two orangey yellow blobs that I thought looked like some of that spray in insulation that comes in cans... or an alien's turds. I'm glad I captured this image (with Bob's hand for scale) as by the afternoon, the substance had already transformed into a black slime glop. It's nice to consider just how chock-a-block the universe (and our garden) is with strange life forms!
On a more wholesome note, take a look at how handsome Bob's vegetable kingdom is. Shaping up nicely, with Maggie the Mexican Pony and Compost Queen grazing in the back ground.

Bob's so organized with floating row cover protecting the baby lettuces and cabbages. He's got every square inch planted and we're already dining in high style on radishes, lettuce and peas. The peas! truly wondrous.

The Sophistry of Soffits

As with most projects undertaken, there is often more underneath than meets the eye on the surface. So it is with the beginning stages of Studio 2013. Bob and Joe, the extraordinary team that fashioned a chimney (with a bit of assist from me-especially the lower stages...) are back at it, finding corruption and rot. Just like politics!
Smart men that they are, they aren't going "too far". I mean, the idea here is to fabricate a studio out of a carport for me, that will last (the rest of) our lifetimes. Therefore, the agreement is to shore up what is there and move on. Joe maintained that if it were his house, he'd take the whole wall apart and rebuild. I hastened to admit that that was impossible, as I don't have enough money to do that and the studio. So my studio may help hold up the house wall. We knew there was water damage of long standing happening on that side of the house; remember the wooden cabinet zip screwed to the upstairs wall, hiding serious water damage? This is the outside of it! On Thursday and Friday, they repaired the soffit; or what could be repaired. Today, the started on the beam that will support the roof.

This is the 20 foot long beam that will be the cross member in the above slot that Bob and Joe carved out. They screwed the joist hangers on today and then are hoisting it up to the carport roof and attaching it. I was surprised when I returned from visiting Mommy today, to find Joe and Bob hard at it, zipping and screwing and saws-alling. Surprised and thrilled! Every bit done gets me closer to a new studio.

This is the first day (Bob's wearing a different sweatshirt). Can't you just feel the constructivist enthusiasm? (And you will remark that I have my feet safely on terra firma. They will stay that way!) I love a good project underway.

Anticipation

I couldn't sleep (again) last night so I got up and did a computer drawing. Drawing on the computer is great! Totally unlike drawing with a pencil or crayons yet still physical- in some cyber way. I am just starting to learn about various tools and how to bend them to my nefarious will. Last night, I experimented with the gradient tool. That's how I made the back ground and the interiors of those sort of flower forms.
I think I partially couldn't sleep because I'm excited (in a good way!) about the impending beginning of work on my studio. So much will change when my studio is complete. The dynamic of the house, and our use of the spaces we have to move through and live in; hell, we'll have a living room! There has been nothing wrong with using the living room as my studio but this artist needs a separate, private space. (And a space to make a mess in.)
I am a realist. I know it will take a while for everything (like walls and a floor) to come together, but I'm patient! I watched my mother and father (aka Mommy and Daddy) build their house. It took years and honestly, they never did finish some parts of it. (Like the cupboards in the living room, flanking the fireplace. Or the bathroom wall. There was this weird gap where there were exposed two by fours and the backside of the hallway wall. How hard would it have been to close that off?) But the house was interesting (my siblings and others may disagree...) and who really cared that we never had a real basement door? Now it's starting to sound like we lived under a tarp in a construction site! It wasn't that bad, but parts of it were odd.  I guess I didn't think too much about it until I'd have a friend over who lived in a normal, suburban house that had things like closet doors or actual hardware on the front door. Then you kind of saw it through their eyes. Anyway, there is some preparation work although Bob and I cleaned most of the things that have lived under the carport for the past several years. I can't wait.

It's a Dog Eat Dog World (and it ain't no lie...)

Tragically, it was no walk for yours truly and her trusty canine side kick Jules this morning. Despite the wet and chill weather conditions, we booted and slickered up to face the elements; and set out for adventure and fun. Half way down the driveway, I realize that the resident deranged pit bull (I'm sorry: is there any other kind?) who lives in the house at the end of our driveway, is apparently loose and his attendant is frantically attempting to re-secure him. This dog, correctly, spends most of it's miserable, ravenous existence in a chain link enclosure.
But the dog has slipped security and is running amok. I am overhearing this as a large wild rose bush intervenes between our driveways. Suddenly, I see the pit bull sprint past the end of the driveway, so I turn Jules and myself around to proceed post haste back up our driveway, out of harms way. Meanwhile the snarling beast- who, needless to say, is built like a tank- is hurling his way across our other neighbor's lawn in a direct bee line collision course with Jules and myself. We might as well have had large targets or signs reading, "Please Bite Me O Savage One" on our backs. The young man is also running full out. bellowing at the top of his lungs for the dog to stop (and having no visible luck in that department). I'm terrified.
At the absolute last possible second, the possessed hell beast is only four or so feet from Jules and myself and our certain evisceration, and the young man throws himself through the air, directly into another large wild rose bush and tackles the pit bull. Tragedy is averted but my heart is racing and Jules and I fled back up the driveway to the safety of our enclosed backyard to play ball instead.
Okay: we all know, I'm a complete and unabashed dog lover. I go all stupid and droolly and googly when met by almost any dog breed out there. Even dogs I'm not entirely convinced by- things like goldendoodles and little simpering lap yappers and dumb Labradors- are nice until proven otherwise and worthy of a chin scratch or a pat on  the head. But pit bulls? I just don't get it...
Why get- or worse- breed dogs that want to attack and mangle? I suppose I do understand that pseudo-ghetto idea of proving your toughness and having the dog to back you up, but it's still really unnecessary. Dogs (and pets in general) should be fluffy and soft and happy and bouncy. Pets should not be scaly or cold or vicious or substitutes for your small dick. Pit bulls are not nice dogs.
I am so tired of hearing apologists for pit bulls. The people who claim they're lovely dogs, and only trained wrong or handled badly. Not true. They have been bred to have huge jaws that clamp down and hold on. Their prey instinct is legendary. That dog coursing across the lawn at Jules and I wasn't thinking, "Oh boy! Time to play!" He was thinking, "Get! Kill! Now!" Dogs do have a tremendously long history of being hybridized to do very specific activities. Australian Shepards and Border Collies want to herd, Retrievers want to retrieve (just ask Jules...) and terriers want to terrorize (and do a good job, too!). I know that the people who have pit bulls will tell you they are loyal, loving dogs with their families and I'm sure this is true. It's just that you can't take them safely out in public because they view other dogs and cats and animals as dinner. That dog meant business and the poor guy attempting to capture that dog knew it. He was as scared as I was only he was terrified that I was going to wind up bitten and in the hospital and Jules was going to be killed. I saw it on his face...
So, only my morning walk was ruined and Jules is sorely disappointed that he was unable to go on his daily routine- very important business in the dog kingdom. But now I'm scared about the next time I encounter the Hound From Hell.
(The picture of my garden is there as I was hoping to put up a nice post about all the good things going on. Niceness will have to wait!)

Meanwhile Back at the Ranch...

That's right! We're just here at the BauHaus Chicken Coop, kicking back and not bothering to do something as exhausting as posting a blog! Life's just a big bowl of plastic packaged store bought cherries.
In truth, I have no idea how I ever snapped this picture. Bob and I rarely sit still and to have Jules hovering in range is really peculiar. Generally, Jules is chasing balls and Bob and I are erecting fences or producing masterpieces or at the very least, pushing vast wheel barrows of compost or manure across the back forty... But how do we know this is really us? I mean, those are my sneakers and little striped socks, and those look like Bob's red boots but how do we know? Maybe aliens staged the whole thing.
I apologize. I have been so busy hosing warm turtle piss from my clothes and planting and trying to get all that needs to be done, done and I have had good intentions to post blogs... really I have! I even have a few new photos to prove it. Not like the entirely phony picture above. (It's true: we almost never sit still.)
In any event, I promise to post a real entry tomorrow; something tantalizing and fun. To tide us all over, here's another picture:

Isn't that a nice bouquet? Okay, the tablecloth was filthy and there was junque on the window sill, but I like to take time and have flowers in the house. I especially like these fancy picotee iris with chive blossoms; not an everyday arrangement! Just another thing to try and get done before running off to do amillion other things. How do you stop?!?!?!!?

No Good Deed... (Involving Further Reptiles)

The above picture has nothing to do with this post. It was an attempt to try and capture a puddle on our deck that had the weirdest little band of distant sky and trees reflected at the top; oh well, you probably had to be there.
On the other hand, be glad you weren't with me yesterday. On my way into work I had to slam on the brakes, make a U turn to go back and save (another) turtle, halfway across a somewhat busy road. A woman coming from the other direction put on her emergency flashers and made sure that the turtle and I made it safely to the other side. We gave each other a big thumbs up. Second one in as many days!
Later that day, on my way home, I see a turtle (hopefully a different one!) a bit further down the road and I again pull over and pick up this bit of pre-history and lift him/her to safety.
Except this particular reptile is feisty and not only doesn't retract placidly into it's shell, it starts scrambling with all four scaly little hooves and then lets loose a furious stream of explosive, warm turtle pee all over my hands and legs. Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuukkk!!! Not what I had in mind as thanks for saving a life.
I deposited the little ingrate on the roads shoulder and wiped my hands as best I could on the grass. As I drove off, I kept glancing at my legs, thinking maybe turtle liquids are like sulfuric acid and would eat away the fabric of my pants (glad I wasn't in shorts!) As you may have guessed, it takes quite a major episode to gross me out, but it was hot and sticky and I'm covered with alien piss. Just gross.
So about a mile later, what do I see? ANOTHER turtle clamoring across yet another road. I start wondering if there's a quota for rescues and maybe I've reached it but I dutifully pulled over and delivered this little monster to safety, too. I sure hope the turtle gods are smiling on me and offering some kind of good karma.