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Wow. That was something.
Dec. 2nd, 2008 06:35 pmNeep below.
It was a strange Thanksgiving. I had planned to have turkey with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
casacorona and company, then visit the parental unit. Instead, just as I was leaving, I found that the Evil Gelding had let himself out, blocked the others from following, selected the alfalfa-pellet can (versus the 10%-protein-with-good-additions can, the Safe&Sound can, the daily-wormer bucket, or the cookie bucket), pulled it out into the aisle, unlocked the locking lid, and triumphantly scarfed down most of what was in it. 30-40lbs, give or take. Normally, per day, he gets two pounds. Max.( In which we go on colic watch )
So much for Turkey Day. I did, while too restless to sit down, discover a beautiful recipe for mushroom ragout, and decide to pick a handful of sour oranges off the tree and see if they really were, as advertised, a kind of sour mandarin, advertised as a lime (and the best marmalade fruit there is, superior even to the Seville orange, but we haven't tested that yet). And lo, we achieved Rangpur Lime Curd, and it was, indeed, sublime. Especially after, on Friday, it went into cheesecake.
And there was turkey on Saturday, because I wanted it, damn it. And it was good. And Sunday was quiet and contentedly full and I worked on the Rewrite That Will Not Die, and rode Pooka, who has been having a late-season attack of Stallion Whees thanks to Pandora's year-round enthusiasm. Strangers rode by as this was happening, and while I would have liked to go over and say howdy, the testosterone gauge had redlined, and there was passage, and very very very light but very very very strong stallion, and I opted for the better part of valor. I'm sure the passersby enjoyed the show.
As soon as they rode off, he flipped his switch and was all Mr. Dressage Horse. And we played with gaits and transitions and lateral movements. And it was good.
On Monday I excavated the storage shed. That's an annual ritual, but it was time for some serious reaming. Out with the empty boxes and buckets, but also the old unusable junk that had been there for years. That took much of the day and was exhausting, but now there is room for tack and horse blankets, as well as books and mss. and assorted other things. And that was good.
( And now, neep! )
The most interesting result however was how I felt after I'd finished and done the evening chores. I realized what a beautiful day it was--clear, mild, perfect--and I felt, simply, good. I haven't felt that way in a long, long time. It was a deep contentment, and a real joy in being here, doing what I'm doing. Again, it's been a long time.
And on top of all that trauma last week, too. Something's shifted, for sure. I like it. I hope it means we're headed for an up cycle, after much too long on the downhill side.
It was a strange Thanksgiving. I had planned to have turkey with
casacorona and company, then visit the parental unit. Instead, just as I was leaving, I found that the Evil Gelding had let himself out, blocked the others from following, selected the alfalfa-pellet can (versus the 10%-protein-with-good-additions can, the Safe&Sound can, the daily-wormer bucket, or the cookie bucket), pulled it out into the aisle, unlocked the locking lid, and triumphantly scarfed down most of what was in it. 30-40lbs, give or take. Normally, per day, he gets two pounds. Max.( In which we go on colic watch )So much for Turkey Day. I did, while too restless to sit down, discover a beautiful recipe for mushroom ragout, and decide to pick a handful of sour oranges off the tree and see if they really were, as advertised, a kind of sour mandarin, advertised as a lime (and the best marmalade fruit there is, superior even to the Seville orange, but we haven't tested that yet). And lo, we achieved Rangpur Lime Curd, and it was, indeed, sublime. Especially after, on Friday, it went into cheesecake.
And there was turkey on Saturday, because I wanted it, damn it. And it was good. And Sunday was quiet and contentedly full and I worked on the Rewrite That Will Not Die, and rode Pooka, who has been having a late-season attack of Stallion Whees thanks to Pandora's year-round enthusiasm. Strangers rode by as this was happening, and while I would have liked to go over and say howdy, the testosterone gauge had redlined, and there was passage, and very very very light but very very very strong stallion, and I opted for the better part of valor. I'm sure the passersby enjoyed the show.
As soon as they rode off, he flipped his switch and was all Mr. Dressage Horse. And we played with gaits and transitions and lateral movements. And it was good.
On Monday I excavated the storage shed. That's an annual ritual, but it was time for some serious reaming. Out with the empty boxes and buckets, but also the old unusable junk that had been there for years. That took much of the day and was exhausting, but now there is room for tack and horse blankets, as well as books and mss. and assorted other things. And that was good.
( And now, neep! )
The most interesting result however was how I felt after I'd finished and done the evening chores. I realized what a beautiful day it was--clear, mild, perfect--and I felt, simply, good. I haven't felt that way in a long, long time. It was a deep contentment, and a real joy in being here, doing what I'm doing. Again, it's been a long time.
And on top of all that trauma last week, too. Something's shifted, for sure. I like it. I hope it means we're headed for an up cycle, after much too long on the downhill side.
