Time on Ice

David and I aren't planning to have children, but we both enjoy the company of the kids in our respective families. My sister's eldest son had just turned one when we first met, and his nieces and nephews were all under the age of ten. David's sister in Ottawa has four kids, now ranging between 12 and 19, and we have been going to their hockey games whenever possible for years. They used to swarm down the ice after the puck, which I referred to as "bowling for 6-year-olds" because one fallen child would inevitably splay along like a starfish, knocking down half of the other players. Tonight we watched 16-year-old boys (called "midgets" despite their size and height) play three full periods of real, hard hockey.

There is nothing that marks the passage of time in my life like watching these children grow into adolescents and onto adulthood. Deadlines come and go, goals are achieved or abandoned, dogs get stiffer through the hips and grayer around the muzzles -- none of these provide the sudden shocks that come with seeing kids only once or twice a year. I never worry much about time and mortality, but sometimes it makes my breath catch in my throat.

After the game the family loaned us some skates so that we can enjoy the Rideau Canal tomorrow morning. I am also looking forward to enjoying a Beaver Tail.

IICFBD

That stands for International Ice Cream For Breakfast Day, which falls on the first Saturday in February. My boss and his wife host an IICFBC party every year, and I have been attending (usually with David) since 2002. The ambiance is getting more sedate as their kids get older (now 12 and 15), but the novelty hasn't worn off. Last year I sampled the craziest flavours I could find, but this year I stuck to small scoops of chocolate, vanilla and caramel.

After that we saw Coraline with some good friends, followed by lunch, followed by coffee. We all love Neil Gaiman and the movie was pretty great. The company was even better.

When David and I moved out of Vancouver we promised ourselves and our friends in the city that we would make a concerted effort to maintain a healthy social life. We are both deeply introverted people and Farcical Farm could too easily become our hermitage. So far we have honoured that commitment, juggling our schedules and the needs of our animals to make time with friends whenever possible and we never regret it.

Superlative Sunday

0730 - 1030: Making money
Although I enjoy sleeping in on occasion, my brain works best in the morning and I hate to let it slip away. Most days (weekdays and weekends alike) start with me grabbing Obsidian (my laptop, a black MacBook) out of his bedside holster and remotely logging onto Pyxidis (my desktop, quad core blah blah RAM out the ying yang blah blah) who lives in my office on campus. Pyxidis runs all kinds of models for me at night, and I like to see what he's accomplished while I've been sleeping. This morning I started tinkering with some troublesome code, and it was 10:30 by the time I got it sorted out. A professionally productive start to a warm and sunny January Sunday.

1030 - 1100: Food machine
David often refers to me as "the food machine" because he thinks that's how the animals see me. Each of the dogs got half a cow's knee, the goats got their flake of alfalfa and the horses got their morning rations. Still lots of hay in the feeders from Saturday.

1100 - 1200: Late breakfast
Thick plain yogurt with crunchy sunflower granola, into which I mixed tiny and potent chocolate chips. Yummy! And one of David's magnificent mochas, care of Mr. Giotto. Enjoyed at the sun-flooded kitchen table with David, chatting about nothing in particular.

1200 - 1430: Moving muck
I mucked out the paddock and then David helped me to move all that manure lying in the pasture (where it got dumped on the snow days) up into the compost bin. We worked slowly in t-shirts, chatting and goofing around with the dogs between bouts of shoveling. Probably more fun than having a front-end loader.

1430 - 1530: Grooming
The horses have been naked for the past week of sunshine, and they have been rolling around in the muddy parts of the paddock. I groomed them both while they stood and ate at one of the feeders and then I turned my attention on Titan. With daily practice he is becoming more tolerant of brushing, and yesterday he lay quiet on his side for 10 minutes while I work on his undercoat with The FURminator.

1530 - 1600: Late lunch
David makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever, and I was lucky enough to get one for lunch. Enjoyed with a Vietnamese coffee and David's good company.

1600 - 1630: Working Raven
While I know that hand walking and trotting are the best exercises for Raven right now, I can't actually watch her move when I am moving alongside her. With some trepidation I put her on the 25 foot longe line to take a better look. Trepidation because (1) moving in a circle can be hard on an already-painful joint and (2) longing thoughtfully can be hard for Raven. It's obvious that people have used longing as a method of tiring her out in the past, and she tends to start cantering in mindless circles when she hits the end of the line. I found long ago that she is more comfortable without a whip, which is fine because her upward voice transitions are instantaneous and sustained. The downward transitions only work smoothly if I keep my voice and my body as quiet as possible. Today I managed to get her from a frantic canter into a walk within three circles, which is a record. We did lots of walking and a bit of trotting in both directions, followed by some hand walking up and down the pasture. Based on what I saw and heard I formulated a plan for moving forward, which will be the subject of another post.

1630 - 1700: Working Tonka
Where Raven hits the end of the longe at a canter, Tonka sees no reason to do anything other than stand around unless there is a whip actively involved. Once he got moving he was great with a big steady trot that makes my heart glad. Like many standardbreds Tonka doesn't canter too good, so we just did lots of walking and trotting. His downward transitions are instantaneous, which I attribute to sheer laziness rather than good training (though he does hold his pace admirably when he gets going). After that I took him down to the end of the pasture for some hand grazing. Raven does not like being separated from Tonka, and I need to start working on this if I want to ride him out and leave her behind. Every time she settled down and stood quietly I would bring him 50 feet closer to her. Hopefully with time and patience she will get the message that he only comes home when she keeps her head.

1700 - 1830: Phoning mom
A long conversation with my mother in Toronto. We talked about books, politics, family, pets, airplanes, travel plans.

1830 - 2000: Crazy casserole
I enjoy cooking when I have the time for it. A few weeks ago Roger gave me the recipe for a tasty caserole he made, and I have been wanting to try it ever since. We didn't have a lot of the ingredients in the house, but I substituted liberally (my modus operandi for all cooking). Scallions instead of yellow onion, some carrots to make up for the lack of crunch, some squishy tomotoes from the fridge instead canned, the ends of three different types of salsa instead of tomato sauce, and some really old Kraft Parmesan cheese I found in the cupboard a few weeks ago. It turned out great!

2000 - 2100: Chores
Another round of feeding followed by a shower. Our water was off all day and I was wrapping my head around the reality of showering at work before my morning meeting (sitting on the commuter train after a day like this would not make me any friends) when it came back on. Delightful!

2100 - 2400: Strict machine
You know that Goldfrapp song? I make my living using computers and sometimes I feel like a slave to Obsidian and Pyxidis. One of the best things about Farcical Farm is that it forces me to spend a lot of time away from my machines each and every day (have you guessed that I am a workaholic?). And on sunny days it gives me a good excuse to delay computer-dependent work until the sun goes down. Today was productive and pleasurable both personally and professionally. Who could ask for a better Sunday?

It Seems Like Yesterday

Today is the 1-year anniversary of the first time I met Tonka (then Kelly). I clearly remember listening to this horrific story on the radio as I drove out to the barn. David had given me $300 for riding lessons on my birthday, but after falling in love with a picture of Tonka online I decided that it would be better spent on a 1-month trial lease*.

When I arrived Tonka was in a panic because Star (his companion of the previous seven years) was screaming for him from the pasture. He had ditched his handler after being tacked up, and he made a break through the barn where he got trapped by the sliding door at the far end. It is only time I have seen him truly undone by a situation. When they caught him I asked the girls in the barn to untack him -- I had no intention of taking a first ride on a horse in that state of distress. Instead I took him out in-hand and quickly learned that he had impeccable ground manners, even through fear. He turned gingerly on the forehand and the quarters in both directions. He reversed for 20 steps with agility and attention. No one knew that he had been a race horse, but I now assume this level of cooperation came from his early training. I fell for him completely on that first day and the founder diagnoses three weeks later was just a bump along the road of inevitability.

In the meantime my friend Sheena was having her dog Briggs laid to rest after a long, hard battle. January 12th 2008 was a sad day in many ways, but it was also the start of my life's longest dream coming true.

*In case it's not clear to FFF readers, David is my very best friend, my partner and my lover -- not always the easiest role to play in the life of a woman who is independent to a fault. The indirect conversion of a $300 cheque into a 1200 lb horse was something that he accepted with more humour and grace than I deserved. I do promise that this year's cheque will be spent on nothing more than vet bills.

Waimea, Big Island

Cattle country in the most unlikely of places. Grassy plains, rolling hills, perfect climate, yuppy township. Not surprising that it is sadly lacking in cheap real estate, I guess. Does dangerouspaniolo have a nice ring to it?

Hardworking Honu

At Turtle Beach we saw several Hawaiian green sea turtles (known as honu) bouncing in the waves and basking on the shore. They are lovely to watch, especially because the revival of this species has been such a big success story in environmental conservation. As we were watching the turtles in the water I wondered aloud whether they simply allowed themselves to wash up on the beach now and then, or whether they plan their rest periods. My answer came moments later when a youngster made its first very deliberate attempt at coming ashore. It missed, tried again, missed again, tried again and finally succeeded. Between attempts it would stick it's head out of the water to reorient itself, and it started each attempt from slightly south of the previous one. Fascinating stuff!

Man Hands

It's getting chilly (i.e. 2 degrees Celsius -- don't laugh) through the nights now and I find my fingers getting cold during morning and evening chores. Wearing gloves while working is a challenge for me, mostly because I have ridiculously square hands.

My maternal grandmother was tall and slim with the long, elegant hands of a model or a movie star. My mother and sister are very petite with tiny little hands that require child-sized jewelery and gloves. My hands are exactly like my father's, only 2/3 of the size. The fingers of any glove made for women are too narrow, and their tips inevitably extend half an inch beyond my own. The fingers of small gloves made for men are still too wide so that my hands flop around inside. Beyond Farcical Farm I am happy in mittens or those stretchy one-size-fits-most gloves, but neither is ideal for doing chores. Today I found these nitrile-coated nylon beauties. They are tight through the fingers but they are the right length and they make me look like the Incredible Hulk.

It was beautiful here today and I am finally feeling confident enough about Raven to voluntarily leave her unattended for hours at a time. David and I took the dogs down to the river for a walk in the chill wind and I snapped this picture around 15:30. Daylight hours are getting short and sweet.

And some more of the dogs, because it was too dark to take any of the horses by the time we got home:

Twenty Bucks!

At the beginning of the US primaries I (ever the optimist) bet David (ever the pessimist) $20 that Obama was going to win the election. I don't want to get all political on you, but I do want you to know that I cried like a baby during his speech this evening.

Domo Arigato, Mister Giotto

Tomorrow I want to talk about horse feed, but tonight I want to talk about human feed of the caffeinated variety. A recent exchange with BJC made me realize that the most important personage at Farcical Farm didn't make the cast of characters.

David and I are both coffee snobs, and we bought ourselves a very nice espresso machine when it became clear that we were moving to the boonies (away from our beloved Our Town Cafe in Vancouver). The thought of a mocha or a latte gets me through my morning chores.

Accidents Happen

And today one happened to me. David and I were struggling to get the west side of the shelter in place when the 4" fence rail we were using to take pressure off the corner post slipped. It fell forward into the shelter and the top caught me (completely unaware) on the spine, just above my right buttock. I screamed like a little girl, partly out of surprise, partly out of pain and partly out of fear.

Fear because my right leg stopped working briefly. It wouldn't hold me up, and I couldn't make it move after I went down. It lasted for less than a minute, and then the whole thing just went cold and numb. Our kind neighbors came by with a big bag of ice, and David hobbled me into the house where I lay iced, drugged and dazed for a couple of hours. Now that I'm up and about both legs feel as though they are made of lead, but they are holding me up and moving when I will them to move. A lucky outcome and a lesson learned.