Aug
26
Poor Developments
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The mosquito bites mentioned in my last post have multiplied. I have over twenty on one leg now, and I suspect that they might not be mosquito bites. I’m not sure, though, as they look like mosquito bites, and I did see a large mosquito in my apartment last night but there are just so many of them!
They are insanely itchy, too. Last night I woke up every two hours to find myself clawing wildly at my legs. I slathered myself with Solarcaine over and over again (right now Mom is probably either smiling smugly or shaking her head and planning to tell me that if I’d just used Solarcaine sooner, I wouldn’t have found myself in such a predicament), which worked to numb them for a little bit. It wasn’t a great night, but luckily I didn’t have class until 1:30 so I had plenty of time to rest up.
My first class of the day was Forage Crops, where we had a pseudo quiz (as in, not collected or graded) involving identifying a bunch of different forages. I got 3 out of 24 correct, though I did fill in the rest of the blanks with “grass,” which in my mind constitutes partial credit for most of them. I kind of wished that I’d listened to my brother-in-law Jake all those times he was identifying these plants around me. Maybe next time I’ll wait until after he says the name of the plant before I call him a Tree Hugger or a Prairie Nerd. No, I’m kidding, because everyone who knows Jake knows that when he’s identifying the plants he’s using their latin names instead of their common names, which is of no help to me.
Aug
25
Welcome Back!
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Last night was my first night at my apartment for this school year.
Sometime while I was asleep, a band of mosquitoes (or possibly just one really, really hungry one) bit my legs approximately 500 bazillion times.
Right now, even though I am a state away and across the Mississippi, I can hear my mom chanting, “Put Solarcaine on it!” over and over again. That’s her solution to most physical problems. And by “most,” I mean “whatever can’t be solved by drinking water and/or taking a shower.”
If I was at home, she would scold me for forming both hands into angry, stiff, rake-like appendages and clawing at my legs in order to remove a couple layers of skin and then she would hand me a bottle of Solarcaine, because we have approximately 40 of them throughout our house.
But I’m not at home, so adios, outer epithelial layers!
Aug
22
The Things We Do For Love
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Bradley is over thirteen years old now, which is quite old for a German Shepherd/Lab cross, such as himself. It seems like only a couple years ago when he was a teensy tiny puppy — the runt of the litter — who would sleep underneath the couch during the day because he was small enough to squeeze under there.
But now he’s much bigger, a teenager, and he’s a bit of an old curmudgeon. (Get it? Curmudgeon? Hohoho hee hee… don’t tell Bradley I said that…) But hey, I’m 22, and I’m kind of an old curmudgeon, too, so I guess it’s a good thing we’re roommates.
Bradley’s had more than his fair share of health issues throughout the years. He got run over by a horse when he was younger resulting in a slightly crooked front leg, has a low thyroid that requires daily medication, has all sorts of skin issues (also requiring daily medication) and now has some joint problems due to age (you guessed it: daily medication).
Recently I became suspicious that he could be diabetic. He’s been drinking the equivalent of the Ogallala Aquifer every time he comes in from outside, losing weight even though he’s being fed more than normal and has developed quite a sweet tooth. He had to go in to the vet anyway for his rabies booster, so I called and told them that I’d like to get him tested for diabetes while we were there. A few calls later and plans were finalized: I would take Bradley and Olio both, since Olio needed a distemper shot. Bradley would get his blood drawn and, if we were able to get a urine sample, they would test that as well.
The “we” I refer to in the above statement, luckily, actually translates to “Mom,” and she did indeed collect said sample from the aforementioned old curmudgeon.
So I struggled my way into the vet’s office the other day, trying to pull the belligerent Bradley and the scaredy cat Olio while also juggling my purse and a ziploc baggy full of dog pee. One of the office ladies tried to help me by taking Bradley’s leash, but he let her know that he was NOT doing ANYTHING she wanted, EVER. I handed off the pee bag and she gave me back Bradley’s leash and took Olio’s instead. Olio let her know that he would do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t kill him and also as long as I was in a two foot radius because HOLY CRAP SHE WAS GOING TO KILL HIM.
Everyone who needed vaccinations got them, no one is diabetic, no one emptied their anal glands out of fear and I returned home with even more daily medications for a certain old curmudgeon and covered in hair from a certain scaredy cat who spent a small portion of the appointment sitting in my lap and then hid under my chair for the remainder.
Aug
19
Ick.
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There is less than a week until I leave for school to finish up my last semester of undergrad. Yuck.
Less than a week. Bleck.
Five days. Ugh.
I’m not sure how this is possible, because according to my calculations, it surely cannot be later than July. And yet somehow, someone has decided to play a trick on me and say that it’s August and time to wind down the summer, and somehow they got everyone in on it and got them to agree to play along. Ick.
I’m not quite sure when time started moving so quickly, but I don’t like it. I remember when summers dragged on and the portion of the year spent in school took forever. And now I’m afraid of blinking, lest five years speed by. Disgusting.
I’ve been spending the last few days bracing myself. Come Sunday, I’ll no longer be waking up early every day to go ride Santana and spend time watching other horses work. I won’t go back to the barn in the afternoons to clean stalls. I won’t be able to spend hours mowing the lawn and working on the awkward tan line that goes right across my foot. Instead, I’ll be in my little wood-panelled apartment, working on school stuff or sorority stuff or trying to find a subleaser for the spring semester or trying to getting my ducks in a row to apply for grad school or applying for graduation or some such nonsense. Gross.
On another note, I realized that my contact form that was on the “About Me” page wasn’t actually working. My apologies if you tried to reach me and thought I was ignoring you. If you need to email me, you can do so at kalin@elblogdekalin.com.
Aug
15
The State Fair
Filed Under horse shows, horses, tennessee walkers | Comments Off
Yesterday was my annual trip down to the state fair. I go down every year to see the horse show and root on not only the horses whose stalls I clean, but also other various Walking Horse friends. One of the benefits of living in the Midwest is our great state fairs. I’m sure other areas have decent state fairs, or at least they think they do, but I for one am skeptical.
The trip always involves waking up very early so that I can run over to the barn and feed all the horses (since the family friends for whom I work stay down at the fair), then making the one-and-a-half hour trip to the fairgrounds, then navigating the parking area and walking the five miles between my parking spot and the coliseum where the horse show is held.
I made it in plenty of time for the first class I wanted to see, the Walking Horse Weanling class. A filly owned by friends was making her debut. She’s also the first daughter of one of my favorite stallions from work, Victory. Her name is Jewel and she definitely inherited her daddy’s pesky personality. She’s currently trying to figure out what color she wants to be. Part of her is palomino, part is chestnut and she’s currently got lots of roaning on her back and hindquarters.
This is Jewel and her owner John making the rounds in front of the judge. The horses are walked around so that the judge can see their movement (looking for a good head shake and back legs that take a big step forward, landing well in front of the hoof print from the front foot on the same side aka “overstride” along with some lift in the front end). Then they are posed (”parked out”) so that the judge can see their conformation, or how they’re built. Jewel did really well at the walk, though she had to be circled a few times because she was acting up. She refused to park until after the judge quit looking at her, though. She placed 3rd out of 5, but the judge later said that she’d won it until she acted up and had to be reprimanded, which dropped her a place every time it happened. That’s a horse show for you!
I used this class to put some finesse on my horse show cheer, which consists mostly of me going “WOO!” loudly. It’s special, though, because is sounds more like “wow!” And it also kind of sounds like a hungry Mountain Lion. That’s the proper way to do a horse show cheer, which should ONLY be done when the judge is looking at your horse. Furthermore, you should follow it up with something directly addressed to the judge such as, “Yep!” “Yeah!” “Yessir!” or my personal favorite, “Right there, your honor!” That tells the judge that hey, I know I sound like a hungry mountain lion, but I’m not, and I want you to place that horse first.
The next class we had to get ready for was the yearling halter class, where we had two horses entered. Ritz and Legend (aka Cute Little Blazey Face) were entered in this class. Legend decided that he had had enough of being a colt and was going to be a full-fledged BIG MASCULINE STALLION right then and there. No one agreed with him, though. He, too, got marked down for having to be disciplined in the ring and ended up 4th.
Ritz, on the other hand, did a bang-up job. He parked beautifully and was backed by some very enthusiastic cheering, resulting in him winning his class.
The last class of the morning session was the TWH Model class for horses over two years old. Victory won this class easily.
I set out later in the day in search of fried pickles. I’ve heard of this little treat and was dying to try them. I ended up having to wander around a large portion of the fairgrounds before finally finding a food vendor that sold them. They fry them up right in front of you and give you your heaping portion of pickle spears and slices that have been dipped in a slightly spicy batter before frying. You dip them in ranch dressing and I must say that they were quite delicious. I ended up eating about half of my order before pawning them off on a friend. Ahh, fair food. So rich and fatty and tasty.
Aug
11
The BIG ANNOUNCEMENT
Filed Under horses, tennessee walkers | 1 Comment
Ha ha! I’ve toyed with you all long enough, taunting you with the promises of the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT.
So here it is. And by “it,” I mean “he.”
This is my new horse.
His name is Santana, and he’s a three year old Tennessee Walking Horse gelding.
For the past five summers I’ve been working for our family friends who breed Walking Horses. They were the ones to sell me Beam when I was ten or eleven. I bought him for $1 and had him for a decade or so before he passed away (at the ripe old age of 32). Beamer was kind of a wily old guy, but he taught me more than any other horse ever has.
The day I got Beam (note his obvious concern at my overalls/Shakespeare festival t-shirt combo… He’s clearly saying, “You sold me to a NERD for HOW MUCH?!”)
So the majority of my life has been spent as a Walking Horse owner. This spring, I sold Masterpiece to Mom so that he could be her personal lawn ornament and for the first time in over a decade, I found myself horseless. That was kind of a weird feeling, but not one that lasted long.
Late in the spring, the family friends for whom I work asked if I needed another horse. I told them that I thought that I probably did, so they told me to consider taking Santana as my summer wages. They also assured me that I could be paid as usual if I didn’t want him, so I did what I always do when I need to make a big decision: create an elaborate spreadsheet (did I already mention my nerdiness in this entry?).
Long story short, I decided to take Santana. I’ve known him since he was a little yearling they picked up from Tennessee and he fast became one of my favorites. His grandfather on his dam’s side is Generator’s Santana, the 1997 World Grand Champion. His great-grandfather on his dam’s side (his mom’s mom’s father) is Gen’s Armed and Dangerous, the 1994 World Grand Champion. His mom’s a pretty well-bred horse. His dad is kind of a nobody, but hey, it happens.
Santana as a two year old.
He’s not home yet. He’s still at the stable where I work so that he and I can get in sync with riding, which we’ve been working on almost every morning. He’s such a sweet horse who’s really eager to please, which makes him a lot of fun to work (unlike other horses who shall not be named *cough cough*MASTERPIECE*cough*).
So that’s the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT. Look forward to more Santana updates in the future!
Aug
10
Fall on the Farm
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I know, I know — It’s not fall. Do you hear that, nature? It’s NOT FALL!
So cut it out with the crisp, cool air…
and the golden sunlight…
and the plants putting on their last hurrah for the season.
I’m not the only one startled by this is sudden preview of fall. I mean shoot, there’s still over a month until it’s officially fall. There’s only two weeks until I go back to school (excuse me while I quietly retch over in the corner).
Where the heck did my summer go? It seems like just yesterday I was arriving home after a grueling finals week, ready to prop my feet up and relax for a few months.
And now here we are. The crops are grown up…
Tall enough that you have to jump over the soybeans in order to see (if you’re a hound).
I’m so not ready for fall.
(BIG ANNOUNCEMENT tomorrow!)
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Kalin is twenty-two years old.
Contrary to popular belief, she's not bilingual (though after 4.5 years of Spanish you'd think she'd know more than she does).
She loves Herefords and Tennessee Walkers. . . [READ MORE] -
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