Week 4 of December

It was a week.  I wish I could say that I made it all the way to Christmas without having a meltdown, but alas, circumstances conspired against me, and on the afternoon of December 23, it is possible that I had a little bit of a moment when I was out at the barn.

To understand how I got to that point, I'll have to walk you through my week.  Monday was actually OK.  I didn't accomplish as much as I probably should have, but I admit that I needed a break after the weekend.  I did get some last minute Christmas shopping done, and Gemma and I delivered a couple of presents to important people (namely the barn owner and Gemma's riding instructor).  That was definitely a lot of fun, and I was feeling pretty good about my week by the end of Monday.

On Tuesday, the day started like any normal day, except for the part where I had to glue a reindeer back together.  We suspect it was an incident with Hawkeye, one of our cats who is constantly messing with stuff.  All I had was jewelry-making glue, but it seems to have done the trick and the reindeer is back in service with most of him back together.

The reindeer's right ear and right front leg took the brunt of the damage.

Gemma gave the reindeer an important job of guarding a particularly important present!

It was about 11:30 when I got a call from my barn owner.  After assuring me that her call was not about Donut, she asked if I possibly had time to haul one of the other horses to an equine hospital because he needed to go immediately.  To be honest, I didn't really even think before responding.  Of course I would take the horse.  The owner didn't have a trailer and it was an emergency.  So I emailed my boss to let her know I'd be taking leave for the rest of my day, made sure Gemma had something to eat, and found something for her to bring with us to eat later in the day.

We got to the barn as fast as we could, and I hooked up my trailer.  I hadn't used it in several months, since bringing Donut home, so I double-checked to make sure the tires weren't flat and the lights worked.  Everything looked good, so I pulled up to the barn as close as I could so the horse wouldn't have to walk far.  I actually wasn't sure what was wrong with him, so I checked in with the vet.  I thought she said he had reflux, and I spent a good part of my afternoon trying to figure out how a horse could have some kind of reflux.  In reality, she'd said, "deflux," which is apparently the procedure used on horses with impaction colic to see if the impaction can be broken up or dislodged using a nasal gastric tube.  (I think - I got my information from another boarder who had been there when the vet was treating the horse.)

Anyway, the horse loaded like a pro onto my trailer, even though I'm pretty sure it had been 10 years since the last time he had seen a trailer.  He also hauled quietly, although it was easy to tell he was in distress.

I had assumed I'd be taking him to one of two equine hospitals that are the closest to the barn.  One is about 30 minutes away and the other, which is the one I took Nimo to, is about an hour away.  Instead, I found out I'd be taking him to a hospital that I had only heard about, but never been to.  I asked the vet how long it would take to get there, and she assured me it was about an hour.  She also gave me printed directions and told me that I needed to use those because my GPS would not give me good directions.  She also assured me that there was no way I could miss the turnoff from the main highway because there were a lot of signs for that particular road.  (I assure you, if there is even a remote possibility that a person could miss a turn, I am perfectly capable of it.  I just had a bumper sticker printed that says, "I don't always go the extra mile, but when I do, it's because I missed my exit.")

We got on the road and I tried to intermittently review the directions as I drove.  I was familiar with the highway I was on, but not quite sure how many miles down the highway I would have to go before seeing the turn.  As we drove, I became increasingly concerned about where that turn was and if I had already missed it, because I could see that our hour time frame was rapidly dwindling.  The same could be said of the amount of gas in my truck's tank.  It was a really windy day, and it felt like we were driving straight into gusts of 40 mph.  I was lucky to break 8 mpg, according to my gas mileage gauge, and I spent a lot of time hovering around 5 mpg.  So I decided to stop for gas just to take one worry off my mind.  Plus I could check on the horse, who was in the same condition as when we'd left.

I also took the opportunity to start my GPS.  Even if the directions weren't quite right, I figured I could get a decent estimate of time and make sure I kept my bearings.  Yeah, so the first thing that became clear is that the one hour time estimate was a complete fabrication.  I was going to be lucky to make it in an hour and 45 minutes.  I knew the vet at the barn had let the equine hospital know when I'd left the barn, and they would be expecting us in about an hour.  She'd asked that if I knew I was going to be later than that due to bad traffic or some other reason that I call the hospital and let them know.  So when I thought I was about a half hour out, I called the hospital.  The lady I talked to made sure I understood not to use my GPS directions and to use the printed ones, because the GPS would take me longer than I needed to go on the main highway.  That was good to know.  I figured that way if I missed the turn from the printed directions, I could still follow my GPS directions and get there without having to try to turn around.  (Seriously, do not listen to people when they try to give you directions.  They are just wrong.  Use a map.)

So we drove and we drove and we drove, looking for the name of the road we needed to turn on.  I put Gemma on duty to search for the road sign too, just in case I missed it.  With both of us looking, we never found it.  Finally, I was at the point where my GPS told me I needed to turn.  Figuring that I had somehow missed the turn despite my best efforts, I followed my GPS directions.  Which took me on some pretty crazy backroads (all paved, thank goodness!) which were narrow with hairpin turns and one-lane bridges, plus the steepest incline at an intersection that I think I have ever pulled a trailer through.  We were in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and pretty much all the roads were called "Something Mountain Road."  Those names were not for decoration.

I have had this experience more than once.  Virginia has lots of what appear to be rundown, crappy roads that actually go to legitimate towns.  My daughter had not, so she was clearly worried that we were in trouble.  I tried to assure her this was par for the course, but she still thought I was crazy.  Finally, my GPS directions lined up with the printed directions and we made it to the hospital.  The vet and a technician immediately came out to greet us, and I unloaded the horse without incident and handed him over.  I checked in with the front desk and then texted the barn owner to let her know I'd arrived before heading back to the barn.

For the drive back, I planned to try to follow the printed directions, so I could see where I went wrong, in case I ever had to come out to this hospital again.  That was an exercise in futility.  There was one intersection where about 17 roads all convened and while there was a road sign, everything was at such a crazy angle, I couldn't make heads or tails of anything.  So I decided to follow my instincts.  Normally, that would be a bad idea when it comes to anything related to geographic location because I really have no idea where I am half the time, even when I have perfectly good directions.  But I've been driving around the bowels of Virginia for quite a few years now, and I think I'm actually starting to get a feel for it. 

My instincts turned out to be correct, and we made it back to the main highway quickly and without all the crazy mountain roads.  I also discovered that my GPS had actually given me directions to turn BEFORE the printed directions did.  So I hadn't missed the turn after all.  (It was good to know that I wasn't blind, but it still sucked for the poor horse who had to ride through several miles of crazy roads.)  Basically, the printed directions were probably a longer distance but they avoided the mountain roads.  Good to know for the future, but I probably hadn't lost much time following the GPS directions.  It took us about an hour and a half to get back to the barn, and some of the time savings was due to me driving a little faster (I tend to drive a little slower when I have a horse in the trailer, especially one who is not in good shape), not stopping for gas, and just knowing where I was going.

When I had first agreed to haul the horse, I hadn't expected that it would take so long, and now Gemma and I were really pressed for time.  I have come to hate Tuesdays and Thursdays because Gemma has climbing team practice at 5:30 and getting through the stuff we need to do out at the barn in enough time so we can get home by 5 is always a bit stressful.  Normally, we take at least an hour and a half.  Now, we had less than 45 minutes.  Thankfully, the staff working that day were a little ahead of schedule, which helped, and we were able to quickly get the things done that we needed to do.  But we were still about 10 minutes late getting home.  And I still needed to get to the grocery store to get food for Christmas.  And I hadn't had any lunch, so I was really hungry.

My husband brought me some food and after I ate, I headed to the grocery store.  Which was actually not bad.  Everything I wanted was in stock, and there weren't very many customers.  So I was able to get checked out quickly and get home.  I definitely went to bed early that night.

I did learn a few things from the whole experience, though.  First, if you agree to haul a horse for someone, make sure you know exactly where you need to go and how long it is going to take to get there.  Second, make sure you know exactly what is wrong with the horse before you haul him.  Third, insist that you have direct communication with the owner of the horse to talk about the horse's history of being hauled, how he loads, how he hauls, and who will cover damage to your trailer if the horse causes an issue.  In this case, I never got to talk to the owner.  For some reason, she wasn't at the barn, and I never heard from her at all.  I felt a little too on-my-own for hauling someone else's horse.

Which brings me to a point that I would like to make for anyone who needs someone else to haul their horse in the event of an emergency.  If you are the horse owner, please make sure that you thank the person who took your horse.  The sooner the better.  It would also be nice if you would offer to pay for gas, especially when the person hauling your horse is spending hours on the road.  The person may not want the gas money, but it is nice to offer, especially because what you would have paid if you had had to get a commercial hauler for an emergency haul would be pretty significant, and it probably would take longer too.  It's been four days since I hauled that horse, and I haven't gotten even the briefest of text messages thanking me.  It is possible that it is simply an oversight because of the stress of the situation and Christmas.  But I have to say that I'm not excited to do that kind of trip again if the person is not going to be at least minimally appreciative.  (And in this case, the quick timing resulted in a good outcome.  The horse did not need surgery and is already back at the barn, on the way to a full recovery.)

Also, don't ask the barn owner to go find transportation for your horse.  If you board and you don't have a trailer, you need to have a plan for how your horse will be transported in an emergency.  There are some barns where the owner/manager may have their own rig and can move your horse, but even then, I wouldn't count on it.  Trucks and trailers can break down or they might be in use for another purpose during your emergency.  

It's really great if you can ask the person yourself.  This was actually the second time in four days that the barn owner had contacted me to haul another boarder's horse in an emergency.  The first time had occurred on Saturday night.  The owner had texted me and I didn't get the message right away because I was baking.  

I made these little pumpkin pie pockets and they were delicious!  And yes, I absolutely ate them for breakfast.  Like I said, it's been a week.

 

I saw it after I had showered and was getting into bed for the night at 10 pm.  I still texted her back and asked if the owner still needed someone.  Fortunately, she had gotten a commercial hauler by then, but I would absolutely have gotten out of bed and hauled that horse that night.  Even though the horse is a known bad hauler.  But the owner in this case had procrastinated for three days about taking the horse to the hospital, even though the vet had specifically said that the horse needed to be euthanized or taken to the hospital because of the seriousness of his condition the first time he came out.  Instead, the horse languished in incredible pain for all of us to watch for three days while he got zero supportive care.  And then the owner decided to move the horse late on a Saturday night.  That is really not good decision-making, and the only reason I would have done it is for the horse, whom I simply could not stand to see be in pain for one more day.  (He is also back after a four-day stint in the hospital.  But this particular horse has an assortment of chronic, degenerative problems, and fixing this particular problem will not improve his overall quality of life.  He should have been euthanized, and it is heart-breaking to watch this situation play out.  Part of being a horse owner is having the courage to make end-of-life decisions that are in the best interest of your horse, not in the best interest of you being able to post on Facebook about how you are doing everything you can to save a horse's life.  You aren't saving him.  You are condemning him to years of suffering.)

After all the excitement and activity on Tuesday, I was ready for a slower-paced Wednesday.  I still had vague hopes of being able to make cookies with my daughter and getting some last minute cleaning of the dining room done, so we could eat at the table for Christmas Eve.  And the day started out just fine.  until I realized the washing machine was broken.  I did some trouble-shooting and then gave it up and called my husband at work to delegate that particular problem to him.  In the meantime, though, I had sopping wet clothes in the washing machine that were not going to wash themselves and another load for my daughter that really needed to be done.

Luckily, I had a set-up for handwashing clothes, or rather, a raw sheep fleece.  Earlier this year, I had gotten it into my head that I wanted to learn how to process a sheep fleece from its raw, unwashed state fresh off the sheep to a finished woven project.  I learned, of course, that there was a bit of a learning curve, and I hadn't gotten that far into my project.  But I had created a set up for handwashing, rinsing, and spinning the fleece dry (not spinning the fleece into yarn - that is a whole other process that is currently evading me).  So I got my bucket set up for soaking the clothes in soapy water, the sink set up for rinsing, and my spinning machine set up for spinning.  (The spinner is a great invention and it really spins anything almost dry in about a minute due to the impressive spins per second that it does.)

It took me about three hours to do those two "loads" of clothes, which is honestly about the same amount of time it would have taken me if I had used the washing machine.  Of course, I had to do a lot of work, but the result was still the same - clean clothes.  

Then it was time to go out to the barn, and I was envisioning a nice time with no time constraints on getting Gemma back home.  So when I got there and discovered I wouldn't have that, I was kind of upset.  What happened is that I found out that one of the boarders who had tested positive for COVID and had some bad symptoms was going to be at the barn.  She owned the horse that had to go to the hospital on Saturday night, and she was planning on meeting the horse at the barn at 4:30 when the hauler brought him back.  I know that the CDC has stated that people who have had COVID symptoms for at least 10 days and have been clear of those symptoms for at least three days are cleared to return to public interactions.  In this case, I knew that wasn't possible.  I had personally heard this lady on the phone on Saturday afternoon while one of the staff tried to once again convey how much pain her horse was in.  She did not sound good at all.  The chances that she had miraculously felt better in one day and been symptom free for the past three days was just not possible.  So she was bringing her infectious self out to the barn anyway, and I had no intention of exposing either myself or my daughter to her presence.  (She didn't even bother to wear a mask or social distance from other people.  It was mind-bogging that she had been quarantining herself for quite a while and had admitted that the illness was pretty intense and was still so willing to expose other people to her sickness.  And the next day, another boarder who is more confrontational than I am confirmed that she is still not symptom free.  I can't even...Especially because I would say almost 100% of the other boarders have been really limiting our time going other places outside of the barn to just essential activities or the occasional lower risk social situation since the end of March.  It is our one "safe place," and it was destroyed in a minute.)

I rushed my daughter through our chores with our horses.  We had half an hour.  So once again, I got no time to spend with Donut.  (I haven't blogged about this particular problem yet, but I am having the worst time being able to find a consistent schedule.  Between life interruptions and other obligations, I'm really struggling to get quality time with Donut, and it is making me quite aggravated.)

And this is the point I had my meltdown.  Between hauling the horse on Tuesday, having the washing machine break down and handwashing clothes instead of doing the things I'd expected to be able to do, finding out that a COVID positive person was going to be out at the barn and take away the only possibility I had to enjoy my day with my horse, worrying about the package that still hadn't arrived with my daughter's present from Santa - the latest tracking information showed that it had been held for ELEVEN days in one location before moving and it was going to be a crapshoot in terms of whether it would make it on time, and finding out that Mini's owner had just been there and not taken care of her was too much.  

You may remember that I've been leasing a pony named Mini for my daughter.  We are losing the lease on the pony at the end of the month because the pony's owner wants to move her to a new facility.  On the one hand, it makes sense.  The pony's owner had moved her other horse to a new facility several months ago for competition reasons and she's been having a really hard time getting to both barns.  So Gemma and I have been taking care of Mini pretty much full-time, even though we only have a lease for two days a week.  The reason the pony needs so much care is because she has heaves (the equine equivalent of asthma), something that was not disclosed when we started the lease.  It has been a pretty significant problem the whole time we've been leasing because the owner refuses to employ even a single daily management strategy to help the pony breathe better.  Instead she is reactive and wants to give the pony medicine only if she is having a flare-up, which she does every 5-8 days now.  That is not good.  With that kind of management, the pony's life is in danger.  I know this because I managed my own horse with heaves for 15 years.

On the other hand, moving the pony to a new facility means that I'm not sure anyone will be really managing her care.  The owner has shown no inclination to do it.  I think she expects the barn staff to be more involved, but honestly, that is an unrealistic expectation.  I have learned that very few people can recognize when Mini is having a flare up, so she gets overlooked unless I check her breathing every day.  Which I do.  And that day, the pony's owner had been out at the barn.  The pony had been in an empty stall because the lady working at the barn that day is very good and she brought Mini in, anticipating that Gemma and I would be out to check on her, and wanting to save us a walk in the increasingly muddy field (Virginia in the winter is unpleasantly muddy).  It was really nice of her, and it meant that Mini's owner only had to walk a few steps to look at her. And she didn't even bother to check her breathing.  So when I checked it, I discovered she was wheezing and texted the owner.  She agreed that I could give Mini medication after I negotiated with her a bit.

And that was when I lost it.  And a bunch of unpleasant things came out of my mouth about the pony's owner.  Mini is an exceptional pony.  Her temperament is second to none.  She carts the owner's four year old child around at shows on demand, even though that child almost never comes out to ride in between shows or invests a single minute in that pony's care.  In fact, the owner took Mini to an overnight, two-day show while she was in the middle of a flare-up and administered what I'm pretty sure are prohibited substances so her daughter could wander around in a lead line class.  It is unconscionable that the owner was at the barn and couldn't be bothered to take two minutes to check on Mini's well-being and give her medication to help her breathe better.

I'm just so tired of seeing all the horses (and other animals) being treated as if they are dinner plates.  Kept in a stall without regard for their well-being unless they are needed for service.  Kept alive in pain so the owner can claim the dubious virtue of "doing everything they can" to keep it alive, as if horses think about life and death the same way humans do.  And I was scared for Mini.  She deserves the best life and the best drugs and the best comfort she can be given for as long as it can be given and then she deserves a pain-free death when those conditions can't be met anymore.  And I'm 95% certain that will not happen.  It was tough to think about so close to Christmas.

So going into Christmas, I was not in the best mindset.  But horses aside, the other stuff worked out.  Gemma's present from Santa arrived at about noon on Christmas Eve.  I got the house clean enough for us to have a nice celebration.  All the food I made turned out and we had a fun informal dinner on Christmas Eve with a friend of mine who is single and would normally travel to see her family over Christmas.  (I definitely try to be mindful of the risk of COVID, but after a co-worker's teenage son tried to kill himself a few weeks ago as a direct result of the stresses brought on by COVID, the collateral damage on people's mental states is something I'm trying to be more aware of.  My friend is an extreme extrovert and all the isolation has been hard on her.  There was no way I was letting her spend Christmas all by herself.)  Gemma always requests my tuna casserole on Christmas Eve because it is her favorite.  Then we opened a few presents and watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas before heading to bed.

The presents are all wrapped and ready for Christmas!

 

I managed to play Santa once again without Gemma suspecting, and on Christmas morning, she was delighted to find a rainbow headstall and rainbow reins plus a pair of purple Hands-On gloves in her size from Santa.  (Isn't Santa amazing to have found such a colorful bridle and who knew you get the Hands-On gloves in purple? ha, ha!)

The bridle is already hanging in my tack locker at the barn.  Gemma was insistent that it be ready to go at a moment's notice!

We opened our presents at a leisurely pace on Christmas morning, and I started cooking for a midday meal at about 9 am.  I made the traditional ham, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, pasta salad, dinner rolls, and pumpkin pie.  

We also enjoyed a little "white Christmas" when it started snowing on and off throughout the morning and early afternoon.  We only got a dusting, but it was a pretty snow and it definitely made it feel like Christmas.

The view from our backyard deck

 

After resting for a bit after our big meal, Gemma and I headed out to the barn to hang out with the horses.  It was cold and windy.  A cold front was blowing through, which was causing temperatures to fall from the previous day's high of  65 degrees to 19 degrees overnight.  Gemma still went on a short ride on Mini, and I finally got some time to spend with Donut.  She was even reasonably clean on her top half, so I got her cleaned up as best as I could and tried to convince her to pose for Christmas pictures by the tree.  Gemma managed to get one shot that wasn't too bad.  The barn aisle is dirty and I am wearing my typical footwear for slogging through mud, but at least Donut was not too fussed about having to wear the antlers:)

And then Gemma and I headed back home for some leftovers and a viewing of Christmas Vacation.  (Which is absolutely not an appropriate movie for an 8-year-old, I discovered.  Gemma was completely traumatized by the scene where the cat is electrocuted by the Christmas lights, and she has banned us from watching it in her presence again! - lol!)

So Christmas is over now.  I survived it in much better form than in the past, and I think I am finally learning how to manage my time during the month (surprise emergency hauling and washing machine breakdowns notwithstanding).  But I was sad about exactly how many things I had to give up to keep my mental stability.  We didn't make gingerbread cookies or a gingerbread house, which we had planned (although we might still do them anyway next week).  I didn't get a chance to make homemade gifts for all the people I wanted to make gifts for (although I may do them next month and they will just be very late).  We didn't watch a bunch of Christmas movies and read Christmas books like I had imagined.

I now understand why so many people take a lot of time off of work in December, and I'm thinking that I might need to do that too.  I haven't in the past (except for one year when I did take the first week off in December, but I felt so guilty I haven't done that again), but my commitment to my job has really waned during the past couple of years.  It isn't that I don't still try to do a good job.  I do.  But I have stopped caring about the outcomes as much.  There really isn't any way to fight against the machine that is Federal bureaucracy and for now, there are too many factors outside my control.  Maybe things will change in time, but they never have in the last 20 years, so it is folly for me to keep thinking that they might improve.  I am working on making my peace with that, and maybe next year, I will be able to take a lot of time off in December with a clear conscience and work on incorporating some of the things I missed this year.

That said, I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas!