Something Lovely

Beautiful. Voice and young man. 

Horses

 

The old boys club.

Laddy 27, Ben 26, Bounce 24, and Scamper 23. 

My oldest is a mare, Babe, the first born to my foundation mare, LF Diamond Rose. Babe is 32. Mama Rose died giving birth to Zing in 2001. His registered name is WF Last of Roses, his barn name, Zing is also a tribute to his dam. If she wanted something she would zing her teeth up and down the stall door bars. She was also called Jailhouse Mama when she did that. That was a tough year, six foals, one an orphan. I didn't have a chance to grieve her loss, so I carried the pain for a couple of years. I adored that mare.

Mama with Topper (WF Impressive) 1997-2025

I think the horse infatuation is born into us. It tends toward the female but not exclusively. There is just something about them that grabs and holds. There is a saying in the horse world. "How do you make a small fortune in horses? Start with a large one."                                                                

Not Much

I didn't watch the bloviating buffoon. From what I've gleaned I was wise. I did read he called this the Golden Age. It may have been Golden Years. I guess he doesn't know what that period was, the few years before the crash which brought on the Great Depression. Opulence, wealth beyond imagination for a few, all built on a house of cards. Of course he doesn't.

So, anyway. We are in single digits right now but have temperatures rising to the 40s F in a couple of days. I would not be unhappy with spring making its appearance in April. I want to play in the dirt.

I made breakfast for lunch yesterday. It was a nice break from the usual grind.                                                                

 

Just a Hello

No explanation necessary.

 

A House Cat's Life

A new toy for the boy.

I'm not particularly chatty these days. The mess of the US has been affecting me in a not good way. I'm going to put in some effort to get the things I talk about doing and then don't do done. The three Ds.

February Has Returned

And I'm glad.

 

Food. Again

Dollop of Daisy? Why a dollop when you can have a wallop. I don't particularly like to make lunch. Yesterday I had nothing on hand. I need to make bread, saints and sinners help me, no sandwiches. I had one bratwurst, black beans and tomatoes. A little hot sauce, cheese and sour cream and it was one more lunch. 

Our weather has been way too warm. Wednesday it is going back to "normal". I'm not sure what that is anymore. I wouldn't mind an early spring, one that is spring-like and not the hot and humid of the past few. I have a desire, it may even be a need, to get out and play in the dirt. In the meantime, I must make the blueberry clafoutis I've planned for the last several days. Somehow I don't get to it. I'd like to say my schedule has been just too hectic but I don't want you to laugh while drinking your coffee. I'm thinking of your keyboards.

Carrying on....I made linguine and meatballs for dinner. I made enough meatballs to have something for the dreaded lunch. Meatball sandwiches. I don't bake or fry the meatballs first. They cook in the sauce and are light as air. No egg, either. Milk as the binder.

You all have a good day and have a wallop of something 

 

The Valentine

My father 1939

Happy Birthday

I grew up without much affection, except for my grandmother and a bit from him. He was a smart, athletic and extremely selfish person. He loved to ice skate and had me on double bladed skates by the time I was three. He taught me to ice dance. There was an ice arena near our home and he got into long blades sometime in the late '60s. I carried my ice skating skills to roller-skates in my early teens. We also had a rollerskating arena near home.

He was the reason I got my first horse. He loved horses and had an American Saddlebred as a boy and an Arabian as a young man. Guess what I have owned for forty years. My first horse was a draft cross, he encouraged me toward a steady, well trained fellow, which was the right thing to do.

He is also the reason I was able to ski. I joined the ski club in junior high and he encouraged me. I spent years on downhill skis. He taught me how to change car oil, how to change a tire.

What he didn't do was protect his two children from our mother.

Chatty

Blackberries

While at Costco I picked up blackberries, something I haven't had in I don't know how long. This recipe called itself a cobbler but I wouldn't call it that. Anyway, whatever it's called it's good. I have developed, at my advanced age, a sweet tooth. My thought is that I'm stressed, depressed and all around out of sorts. Somehow, not only eating, but baking desserts is comforting for me. I am cutting the recipes in half. 

We are an ice rink. Melting during the day, freezing at night. I won't be making anymore adventures until this changes. My balance is terrible. I don't need a broken hip. I have been using the treadmill and my little peddler machine to help build lower body strength. I faced a tough fact recently. I'm not getting younger and there will be no magic wand waved over my head to fix me. I need to dig into myself and find a thread of the very determined person I once was.

Back to food. I bought steelhead trout, a favorite of mine, yesterday. I've been depriving myself because the cost soared and I balked. I gave in yesterday. So that is happily tonight's dinner. Fascinating, I know.

Life in the Eavestrough

What happened to decorum? Basic manners? Someone who knows what they are doing?

 *Credit Ann Telnaes