Much of last weekend involved pre-wedding landscaping, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I've said it before and I'll say it again; I'd rather do scads of physical labour until my arms feel like they're precariously attached to my frame by coat hanger wire and my neck can no longer hold up my head than do almost any other kind of work inside
Katie, Chris, Kirk, Shoshana, Greg, Mum and a family friend braved Saturday's frigid winds and spotty rain to edge, weed, plant and mulch. We also got the last of the posts for the horse shoe gazebo (I have no idea what else to call it at this point - the 'structure' is just a little too ambiguous) cemented in. Things are looking good too!
The gardens are so much further along than they are here. Its pretty damned remarkable what a difference there is over just a two hour drive. Most of mum's bulbs are finished, save for a few of the daffodils with real staying power, and the lilacs are all JUST about to burst. There's nothing quite like the smell of blooming lilacs; I wish they could bottle that!
Between Chris, Katie and I about a third of the gardens now have a nice crisp edge (I forgot how anal retentive Bones is about her edging - about the fourth time I heard 'I'll just even this out for you' I snapped and there was nearly a shovel-duel. Afterwards, I may have been purposefully sloppy... maybe). Chris's arthritis wasn't terribly fond of all the physical labour, but Bones and I got into our regular rhythm, and Kirk proved he understands his way around the business end of a pitchfork.
Do they have pitchforks on Eve?
Maybe that's some kinda add-on.
There was also some drama - you can't escape that with family, and my mother's house is a non-stop circus like that. First, my step-grandmother proceeded to get drunk and....well, I can't possibly describe it well enough. We were all half laughing, half resisting the urge to crack out skulls like brittle eggs against the countertop just to make it stop. Grandad was embarrassed, understandably, and eventually carted her in a slur of affectionate terms I would like never to hear again.
Then my teeny cousin William who was visiting with his mum was not a happy camper, and had to leave early. The poor thing has mobius syndrome, and a great deal of trouble eating, as well as a slew of complications no infant should ever have to endure.
Then, proving trampolines are for clowns and masochists, my sister manage to break both bones in her forearm near her hand. That resulted in a trip to the emergency that lasted six hours. The emergency room on a Saturday evening; funfun. On the way home after having been in shock (and not even really crying - I would have been WAILING like a banshee personally) Alison informs my mother that 'it would be nice' if they stopped to get us doughnuts.
Cute kid.
I freakin' love doughnuts-er...I mean, my siblings.
So Katie's at the hospital right now for her sister's delivery - Liz had a long and uncomfortable pregnancy and was finally induced today after being more than a week overdue. Damned kid already doesn't know the meaning of a due date. I predict many, many late marks in years to come for baby Muscles.
Annnnnd in more happy news, I'm trying to decide between a couple of different options in the world of horses. After a little research I've found a couple horses for part-board that would be perfect - just picking one is the trouble. On the one hand, there's the lovely QH who's no more than twenty minutes away who's $100/month for me to ride once a week. On the other, there's the gentlemanly TB half an hour away who only costs me six stalls worth of cleaning and a nightly feeding/turn-in. And as already explained, I am the master of shovels. *flex*
So I'm not sure. On the one hand, I think it'd be good practice for Chris to learn exactly how much work goes into maintaining a horse. And you can bet I'll be handing him a pitchfork if I take Dashing Mr. TB. On the other, he'll be the one playing chauffeur, and I imagine between cleaning, feeding, grooming, riding and turn-in, it'll mean we're there most of the afternoon.
Mr. TB also I'm told involves 'complicated dressage tack' (owner's emailed words). I can only imagine she's talking about a double-bridle, which I'm not thrilled about. I was always taught that more metal means less actual riding, and while I realize you don't watch the big-boys compete without seeing all kinds of flashy hardwear, its never been for me. I'm also curious as to why Mr. TB needs it; I don't particularly want to get onto a horse with a hidden issue.
Sideline: One of the people I was emailing back and forth about part-boarding with proved that it pays to ask a LOT of questions. Her ad said 'calm, quiet, tb'. And through email it became, 'well, he gets a little strong when he's happy, but that's just a happy horse'. Okay well, strong I can deal with I thought. Strong isn't bad; energy just needs to be redirected right?
Then I got, 'do you have a really soft seat? Because his last owner had a really rough seat, and he had a lot of bucking issues'.
Heeeelllo.
Calm, quiet tb is strong and has had a history of bucking issues? Maybe not.
Anyway, I'm rambling, I'm going to stop now. Time for a fresh cup of coffee, then back to work.
Bones and I will be doing more commission work this summer - expect a post about that shortly.