Alas . . .
. . . still no Connie photos. It was sheeting this morning* so Jenny took her to the indoor school, which is not a lovely object, as anyone who has any experience of indoor schools for horses will know. Even fabulously upmarket indoor schools, which this is not, tend to be pretty depressing, although that may be the mirrors lining the walls so you cannot escape the awful truth about your riding or the fact that your horse really does have five legs, deny it as you will.*** I want Hampshire countryside for the background of my Connie photos, at least my first ones, and furthermore, an indoor school is indoors which means your flash is going to go off, which is not going to be popular with either horse or rider.† Connie went a dream†† but her dreaminess was especially spectacular on the heels of the horse Jenny had ridden before her.
Jenny has a new project: the night before Horse-for-sale, now Sold-horse, was to leave, she had a phone call from an angry young woman whose new horse was not receiving the training she was paying for at his present location and could Jenny take him? Jenny could. He’s a moderately successful off-the-track thoroughbred who hasn’t a clue about being a riding horse, and his new owner wants him able to do a bit of everything: so far so normal. The peculiarity in this case is that he’s ten years old. He’s been standing around in a field for the last five or six years. Which is bizarre, because nice-looking, nicely-built sound thoroughbreds are usually pretty desirable. But there’s nothing obviously wrong with this one–except his cluelessness.
And I mean cluelessness. I got there early so I could watch him too. He can just about lunge, although Jenny said he’d been all over the landscape yesterday when she tried him out the first time, not vicious or dangerous, just yipe what’s going on here??? You want me to do what? He’s suffering a major shock to the system and at present he’s not in favour of the change: you can also see worry written all over him. He did at least lunge in the direction she asked for today, but he can only barely trot on a lunging circle, he’s so unbalanced: he takes these tiny quick pony strides like he’s trying to keep all four legs under him at all times. Since he’d calmed down a lot (she said) she got on him . . . and spent an hour patiently–and from his perspective, relentlessly–trying to convince him that going forward from the leg into the hand was okay, was a good thing to do. He remains unconvinced. Jenny says there’s nothing in front of you; that he will accept no contact at all: that he will only move forward at all if you ‘leave the door wide open’. And you could see this happening. She’s going to tell his owner that he must at least have his teeth done, and a chiropractor would be a good idea. He’s not lame or tender anywhere but he moves so funny it’s hard not to think there’s something wrong. But then I’m not used to looking at ten-year-old horses who can barely trot in a circle. I was trying to remember what two- and three- and four-year-olds look like when you’re first asking them to do stuff: wobbly. Fortunately Jenny likes a challenge.
So after this poor confused critter was allowed to stagger off to a nice friendly field for the rest of the day and try to figure out what’s hit him, Jenny brought Connie in, who looked like queen of the world in comparison. Of course I have a huge crush on her not only just because I’m riding again but she is, as I’ve said before, so much better than what I’m used to. I’m used to the difficult horses, and her only drawback, as I’ve also told you, is that she needs some stiffish holding together, but with tower bells and hellhounds in my life this doesn’t really register. With Jenny on her she goes ka-chunk onto the bit and just stays there; and once she’s woken up a little she has lovely strong gaits–her trot positively floats, her legs cross beautifully at the half-pass and she does ten-metre canter circles like it’s absolutely no deal. She’s just longing to do canter pirouettes, I can tell.
And tomorrow I get to ride her.††† Beam.
The only problem is that two hours after that I’ll be in the dentist’s chair for two and a half hours. This is, cough cough, only the next step in the £1,000,000 of reconstruction work I’m due to have done; the reason this is such a blitz is that he wants to do two next-door teeth at the same time, which he says will take less time than doing them separately and be cheaper. These are strong arguments. But two and a half hours in the dentist’s chair? Whimper. Whimper. I’ve already put it off twice, once because the original appointment was the week Hannah was here with her lot, and the second time because the ME was acting up again. Well the ME is acting up again now, so I may be toast, or worse‡, tomorrow evening. All positive thoughts sent in this direction gratefully received: and at least I’ll have had my riding lesson.
* * *
* Again. Okay, okay, you’ve watered my garden, thank you very much, will you please go AWAY? The bottoms of local hills are turning into fords. Why can’t the weather catch on that we want a nice drenching rain sort of every other night–every third night if it’s not too equatorial during the day, although I’ll probably have to water a few of my thirstier pots^–and then hellhound-walking, gardening, horse-riding weather during the days? This doesn’t seem to me all that difficult a concept. Cue those Camelot lyrics:
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/camelot/camelot.htm
^ I may end up planting my so-called patio lilac up at Third House because the fricking thing needs to be watered about three times a day. It’s not even what I would call a proper lilac; it’s a syringa+ all right but it’s one of those airy arty horticulturally correct ones. I want the big thumping suburban flower spike kind, with the fragrance that will knock you down at ten paces. Third House already has two of these++ so the airy arty one might do well there because I won’t be busy being cross it’s the wrong kind. That still leaves me lilacless at the cottage. As readers of the dedication of ROSE DAUGHTER will have surmised, my little Maine cottage was walled and moated by lilac bushes, and during that admittedly brief few weeks in spring when they’re doing their stuff I could leave my windows open +++ and wake up in the morning in a Bower of Lilac. I had to plant lilacs at the old house here. Peter had two and a half acres and no room for lilacs? His flapdoodling beauty bush#, which I admit was a stunner, was enormous, only in flower three weeks of the year too, and it didn’t even smell.
+ Word just helpfully respelled this syringe. Thank you guys!
++ It used to have three, but the white one met with a clearing-neglected-garden accident. That still leaves me with a very smelly lilac lilac and a very smelly purple one. Although they both need pruning so you don’t need a stepladder to stick your nose in the flowers, possibly to the consternation of visiting bees.
+++ You have, or you better have, screens on your windows in Maine. You’d better have screens anyway, but lilac season also tends to overlap with black-fly season.
# http://www.findmeplants.co.uk/plant-kolwitzia-amabilis-0625.aspx
*** It’s that Sleipnir blood. People will keep using it in their breeding programmes, but it’s very risky.
† If there’s a way to make your digital camera think it is using 400 speed film, I don’t know it. If I’d thought of it I could have brought my old fashioned camera with some 400 film in it. Although that still wouldn’t have done me any good tonight.
†† Pardon me while I repeat myself: How did I get this lucky?
††† Probably not canter pirouettes however. That’s a joke.
‡ Worse than toast? What is worse than toast? I feel that fish food is worse than toast, mouldy hay is worse than toast, a quart of cranberry juice left in the boot of the car for a week is worse than toast . . . oops.
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Good luck at the dentist. Maybe take a mp3 player to listen to good music.
I’m going to take my portable CD player but I don’t know if it’ll fit with all the dentist’s gear (including both feet, and his assitant’s feet, and . . . )
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The only problem is that two hours after that I’ll be in the dentist’s chair for two and a half hours.
Aw, hell. :(
Think I’m with your dentist, though–getting it all done in one go beats going back multiple times. Could you slip him an extra five to just hit you with a mallet beforehand, and shake you back awake at the end?
Hang tough.
If there’s to be any mallet usage it’s going to be going in the OTHER direction. . . .
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after reading your day’s entry, I’d help you with that mallet. :)
Okay, I’ll meet you there. Let me know your ETA. . . .
Will check the train schedules and get back to you. :)
Waiting eagerly. :)
OOdles of chocolate and a plenteousness of peace (imagine riding Connie?) during your time in the dentist’s chair — and no interruptions that prolong the session. I’d tie the ME down and put it somewhere else for you if I could.
Thank you!
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Aw, poor ten-year-old horse. He must be so overwhelmed with everything. I hope his owner gets him checked out. *pets him*
And Connie! Brilliant, beautiful Connie. You can daydream of her while you’re trapped at the dentist.
Yes. Peter suggested I plot a new story. So I sort of plotted a new story with Connie in it. . . . :)
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But is it a *short* story? A *fire* story?
::giggles::
Best wishes on a smooth and easy dental appointment. Yes, music helps. Balance the CD player on your chest if you have to.
[Sends sparkly purple-and-teal healing and ME-begone vibes]
[Also virtual champagne to sooth your nerves]
We’d gladly take any rain you care to send this way, seeing as you seem to have a superfluity of the wet stuff.
SUPERFLUITY (or possibly superfluidy) doesn’t BEGIN to cover it lately.
And I’ll either FIND my CD player before next time or BUY A NEW ONE.
And we had REAL champagne for supper!!!! Very soothing!!!! It also DOESN’T REQUIRE CHEWING!!!!!
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Ouch on the dentist. I feel for you. Literally. Any mention of dentists’ chairs makes my side teeth hurt and the buzzing of their saws – sorry I mean drills – or any like-sounding drill, come to that, makes my jaw ache. So positive thoughts be with you.
On the home front we are slowly melting. It is going up into the forties (Centigrade) and staying there and we are not happy with it. I just walked into my kitchen and surprised the new resident: a pinky beige gekko, which took off behind the cooker. I had thought the cockroach population was down, and it appears our summer visitor can take credit. I love gekkos and am happy to share my pests with it.
Positive vibes are with you.
Oh, your very own bug-eating gekko! Lucky you! I don’t envy you the heat, but a **gekko**!
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Yes, unfortunately way too shy for photos. He squiggles away in the side-to-side motion gekkos have. I am very happy indeed that he is playing sweep-up. He makes up for lack of other bug-eating pets – with no need for additional care. The perfect apartment dweller’s pet.
Absolutely. My carnivorous plants do take *some* upkeep.
::lights the dentistry candle::
Last week Mum was away for a few days and removed her brand-new mouthguard…. along with the brand-new bridgework…… ::headdesk::
The pair of you seem to be trying to rival each other in who spends the longest in the dentist’s chair! LOL
All the best for tomorrow :)
I’d be HAPPY to let her WIN.
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Syringe!
I’m sorry, but I just can’t seem to be able to stop laughing – I had to, literally, wipe away tears and the keyboard is actually shaking while I try to write.
Just the thought of you planting a syringe – and they are such terribly thirsty plants too! Well, Word is wonderful and my sense of humour is, I confess, sick…
Anyway, good luck at the dentist! (Two hours – ugh!)
Two and a HALF hours! Plus forty minutes! LOTS of MORE ugh!!!
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Yes, I was reading about your Day of Horror – actually I’m not finished yet, it takes me some time to read (eyes, you know). I’m so sorry – the twit on the bicycle AND the dentist all in one day! The dentist I should like to hit – arrogant, self-satisfied idiot! The Urdu “badtameez” – someone who has no manners – was invented for people like him.
Hi there! I am an American fan and just found your blog from an Amazon link. I’ve also been a horse-lover all my life, and am really enjoying reading about your adventures with Connie. I can’t wait to see a photo. And bell-ringing has intrigued me since I read The Nine Tailors, so I look forward to exploring your links about that.
Anyway, just wanted to say Hi. I’ll be back, but right now I have to go track down some of your books that I have missed…
Hello and welcome! :)
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I will be sending positive vibes in your general direction. Poor you. I really don’t mind the dentist, but two and a half hours straight is a little excessive. A lot excessive. Ouchie.
Any rain you don’t want can be sent here and would be received gratefully. We had a “50% chance” of thunderstorms last night and tonight and even got the severe storm warnings, but ended up with maybe six drops of rain. 50% chance in May would have brought Noah’s flood. This is not a weather pattern that’s good for planting.
I had two crown replacements (neighboring teeth) done last fall. It’s not the time in the chair that’s the problem, it’s the time with your mouth open and people’s hands in there. But there is something to be said for getting it over with.
****You have, or you better have, screens on your windows in Maine. You’d better have screens anyway, but lilac season also tends to overlap with black-fly season.****
We once stayed at a B&B in central Massachusetts that was an 18th-century house that had been put on the National Register of Historic Buildings. This meant that nothing could be done to make it look, from the outside, unlike an 18th-century house. The relevant details for us were no air conditioning and no window screens. We were there around the Fourth of July , so it wasn’t peak black fly season, but there were plenty of other flying critters wanting to share the bedroom and it was too hot to think about closing the windows. There is such a thing as too slavish attention to historical detail. Those people in 17-whatever would have LOVED window screens.
Good luck with the dentist :: lights candle for Robin and sends evil thoughts to ME ::
AND IT’S GOING TO RAIN AGAIN TOMORROW. ARRRRRRRRRGH. We need some kind of a *passing*-the-rain dance.
Yes. The whole ‘grading’ system over here is a nightmare. You really DON’T WANT your house on the list. I’m in a Conservation Area at this end of town (Peter is spared) and that’s bad enough.
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All fingers and thumbs are pressed and several virtual candles lit.
You’ll be fine. You’ll be more than fine. You’ll feel fantastic (or at least very, very relieved to have that piece of dental work over and dealt with.)
Enjoy the riding.
VERY RELIEVED is exactly right. :) I’m not even popping handfuls of arnica.
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How can there be a beauty bush which doesn’t smell? Do other people agree it doesn’t smell? Is it definitely a beauty bush and not secretly a non-smelly viburnum? Bafflement.
Resonate with the indoor-arena ugliness thing; I do all my riding in an indoor arena because my instructor always says it’s too hot/cold/muddy/dusty in the outside ring, or possibly there is one of the Wrong Horses in the lesson for being outside. She did let us go outside once in the last year – it was glorious, your eyes could focus on the horizon (green Ohio fields and trees and split-rail fences to infinity) instead of all these walls suddenly looming up, and the horses went so much better. Unfortunately, she was constantly twitching at the weed-whacker in the next field/ the dirt bikes 3 fields over, etc etc. The horses just looked a little, she stressed out. Still, indoor arenas are very handy when it’s 95 or 20 (F, obviously) or rainy.
Well *ours* didn’t smell. But it’s only a nickname so you may be calling something else that.
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“So after this poor confused critter was allowed to stagger off to a nice friendly field for the rest of the day and try to figure out what’s hit him…”
Ok I was so laughing after this post. I’ve been there done that with horses. One of my husband’s favorite stories about a horse I worked with was the day he was being particularily obnoxious/studly and tried to bite me in the paddock. I forced him to back up and listen to me as well as telling him exactly what I thought of him. After he got submissive I turned and walked back to the gate my husband said he dropped his head, looked completely bewildered and sighed if to say, “Ok I obviously screwed up and I now know you are the boss but I need to think about this a bit.”
I love reading about your experiences with Connie and the other horses!
HOrses are brilliant. The planet would be a much poorer place without them. :)
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It’s been raining depressingly here in Wisconsin, too, and to cheer myself up I made some salsa (although I think it’s more like Pico de Gallo, but the recipe was given to me as salsa). It’s very fresh and light, and helps take your mind off the humidity. I also invented a black bean bake to put it in, but that’s going to need a few more test runs. Anyway, here’s the recipe!
Eryn’s Pico de Gallo for People who Hate Cilantro
3 whole tomatoes
1/2 an onion
1 tsp salt
1/2 a lime’s juice (or 2 tsp)
3 cloves garlic
1 tbsp white vinegar
fresh chopped parsley
3 serrano peppers
Mix all the stuff together!
The original recipe, which I got from a friend, called for no vinegar, no garlic, and 1/2 Cup of cilantro. I think cilantro tastes like soap, and I didn’t measure the parsley, I just chopped a bunch of it, put a big handful in the salsa, and dried the rest. If you like cilantro, feel free to use that instead.
Obviously, you can use whatever type and number of hot peppers you want. 3 serranos makes for a pretty spicy but not overwhelming taste, if you’re good at spicy foods. If not, you can try jalapenos or try seeding the peppers (or both!). Make sure to insulate your hands with something when cutting the serranos. If you have kitchen gloves, great–I just used the plastic bag that I brought the peppers home in.
My friend says that she often puts it in the food processor to make it smoother, but I don’t have a food processor, so I didn’t.
You could probably use the whole lime’s juice if you don’t mind it being runnier–I used half for the pico and half in the rice for my bean bake.
On a last note, I seeded the tomatoes on a suggestion from my friend. Next time I think I’ll leave the seeds in (it seems like a waste not to eat them, and it’s already pretty runny, so what’s a little more?).
I think you must have bad cilantro. I can’t even imagine it tasting like soap. And I’ll probably eschew the hot peppers altogether. But anything with lime juice gets my vote.
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By the way, I came across this:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/main.jhtml?xml=/earth/2008/07/08/scimolecule108.xml
and thought it might interest you, as it concerns a potential cause for certain auto-immune reactions.
This is Susan from Athens by the way, from her work computer and in too much of a rush to sign in.
Yes, very interesting, but I wonder how many of us AI sufferers also HAVE to eat red meat or our energy level disappears altogether? I can’t go vegetarian–I can’t even survive on chicken and fish. It has to be red, and it has to be about twice a week, and it has to be fairly generous. If anyone has studied this . . .
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Also interesting, regarding the part of the article relating to cancer, is that cancer cells seem to thrive on carbohydrates and a “cancer diet” is low-carb, high-protein, which generally means plenty of meat.
I took Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter to my last dental marathon – sounds like yours 2-3 hours – arrgghh!. This was okay because I actually find Fry’s voice rather soothing but less good because the dental nurse wanted to listen in. So what is the ideal read aloud for the dentist? Dickens could be good but I think that Alan Bennett reading Winnie-the-Pooh or Wind in the willows would be fab….
I couldn’t FIND my little portable CD player (and I wouldn’t know an iPod if it bit me) . . . so I had to lie there and listen to the DRILL.
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Oh Goodness! Two and a half hours in the dentist’s chair? Yuk! You poor thing.
I’m guessing that it’s probably all over now, so here’s hoping you’re not feeling too crappy.
*sends chicken soup* (or another type of soup if you prefer)
*also sends liquid Green and Blacks*
LOL! Chocolate *melts* in the mouth–no chewing required!
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All positive thoughts sent in this direction gratefully received: and at least I’ll have had my riding lesson.
Keep your lovely ride in your mind’s eye the whole time. Connie will be good company in the chair and not steer you wrong!
I know it’s a bit late, but every finger crossed that your recovery from the latest dental onslaught is very quick and not complicated by the ME.
Toast? Toast is Not Evil. Kenneth Grahame:
When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one’s ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes, sipped his tea and munched his toast, and soon began talking freely about himself, and the house he lived in, and his doings there, and how important he was, and what a lot his friends thought of him.
Toast has curative properties, QED
But, much sympathy re the dentist.
You can indeed set your camera so that it acts as if it’s using 400 speed film. There will either be a button or a setting in a menu called ISO and changing those numbers is like changing your film speed. On many, if not most digital cameras, though, that high of an ISO produces very “noisy” pictures, so unfortunately, it won’t solve your problem. If it was something like one of your flowers, you could just slow down the shutter speed to get a good picture despite the low light, but that presents obvious problems with something that moves.
Hmm. Must force myself to read the, er, INSTRUCTIONS. In my copious free time. I’m doing well when I remember to TAKE it anywhere, *and* press the little button. . . .
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