Since it has begun to rain in earnest, the attire de jour for my children consists of shorts and rubber boots. It seems the mud at our house attacks you as you step out the door so rubberized footing is a mandatory necessity to avoid destroying anything below your knees. It is cute seeing the kids running around with their white knees peeking out between the top of their rain boots and the lowest part of their shorts. We have a ritual that when coming inside; almost everything gets stripped before entry into the house is permitted. We probably go through three or four sets of clothes per day. Yeah, I know, that's a lot of laundry. PG&E loves us in then winter. Not only do I have to use the drier for the clothes (I line dry all summer), but I do more loads cumulatively.
On to the next topic, Max, one of our horses, was "re-homed" last weekend. Max has been with me for about four years and here is his long story as short as possible. In 2003, one of my friends called me and said I should go look at this "colt" at her friends house since she had too many horses and needed to downsize. Sucker that I was I went to inspect him and decided to give it a try; and I rescued Max as long yearling from a quagmire of mud and manure. Max had a bastards family history of which to be proud. His dam, a retired 23 year old thoroughbred, got knocked up by a rouge-escaped Arabian stallion when out in a pasture. Romanced by the exotic foreigner and left as a single mom in her old age after a one night stand, the mare produced Max, who was unwanted by his moms, owners. But since I was not so discriminating and thought I could make something of him I adopted this misfit and supported him through his adolescence.
Max turned out to be something of an Einstein horse, since he could open his stall door, his stable mates stall doors, and even gates. If not locked in Max would let himself and his stable mates out and party. I guess this is how his father got to his mom... I broke him to riding when he was almost 3 and found him fabulously trainable, although I looked like an giraffe riding a thimble, since he only grew to about 14.3 hands. My six foot body just did not look aesthetically pleasing riding Max. But size aside Max turned out to be a super smart horse who wanted to DO something. My problem was three horses, two kids, no time. And the other horses got priority since they were my size...
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine in Sacramento said she would take him on lease and keep him if they hit it off so I will keep my fingers crossed. I must feel kind of like a parent sending their pesky teenager off to collage. I am thankful he is out of my hair but hoping he behaves himself so he is not expelled.
Then on to Halloween. Going into town for tricker treating was a total bust. There were lines to get candy and the mobs of people just made us claustrophobic. We brought the crew home after 20 minutes of exposure to the mauling crowd seeking high fructose corn syrup treats. Then all the boys activated their glow sticks and played for about 30 minutes making light designs by swinging the florescent green and orange colors in circles and waves around their bodies. I asked them what they liked best about Halloween and I got a rousting cheer for the glow stick fun. We all agreed that next year we would not go trick or treating, but instead I would buy a big pack of the glow sticks and we would all play at home. That was easy... And NO the kid on the right (cousin Trevor) is not flipping you off. He is pretending to have guns. God help us when he learns the finger.
Last thing, we ordered and received a camcorder for video fun so now I can actually make little movies of our simple life escapades. Stephen Spielberg, Quentin Terantino, or the Farrelly Brothers, I am not sure which genre will emerge from our cast. Probably more like pathetic amateur with a shaking video camera. We shall see.