Weekend Stew

I am currently listening to My Radio on Yahoo! They are playing a Middle Eastern artist I love, Hakim, the "Lion of Egypt." Knowing my tastes, he may be the Arab equivalent of Justin Timberlake, but I can't get enough of him (Hakim--not Justin). Here is more on Hakim...

After finally reaching my roofer earlier this week, I arose at 7 a.m. on Saturday to phone him, as he requested, for a reminder to come out and look at my new bat condo on the upper level. Those of you who are surprised to hear that he never returned my call or showed up, please raise your hands. That's what I thought. Why would he wish to raise my ire? That he raised my roof is inarguable; that he should raise my ire is downright unwise. Keating Construction, out of Columbus, WI. I'm just saying...

As the bat's morning sleep did not need to be interrupted, I made my way to Madison to partake in a mini family reunion. Per my usual social self, I spent the entire time playing with my niece and had to keep reminding myself to play with everyone equally. When you are like a child, it is inevitable that you should be drawn to the child at the party. Not an excuse, just an observation. Here I am (on the left) trying to wrench her from her mother's grasp.

But mom always wins:

I did score the coolest pair of moose socks (yes, I said moose socks) from my Aunt Sharon. Can't beat these! Even little Jordan didn't get any new socks out of the deal.

I also spent some quality time with my main man, Julian. He reminded me that we can never really take anything for granted--like the fact that a mounting block he has seen me use for two years might suddenly turn into a ferocious lion if I were to set in an a previously unused spot in the paddock. I had set it out under the trees to use after grooming, tacking and lunging him, but as I brought him in from the front field, he caught a glimpse of it throught the leaves out of the corner of his eye and nearly became hysterical.

Let me just remind my audience that this is 1600 pounds of hysterical on the other end of a rope to which I am attached. I tried to convince him it was the same old blue mounting block, but he was having none of it, and began backing into the electric fence. I had seen this story before and nearly came out of it with a broken ankle in Arizona back in 2003, so I unhooked him so that I might adjust the location of the object causing so much fear. Free of me, Julian spun and galloped back to his herd mates. I dragged the forty pound block all the way out into the field, in full view of everyone. Jack immediately came over and flipped it upside down, then turned and threw Julian a taunting look, which Julian might have been offended at had he not already gone back to eating.

I went back for Julian then, and we walked right past the block as if nothing were there. However, as we approached the entrance to the paddock where the lion had last been sighted, he balked once again. This was too much. Now I had to explain not only that there had never been a lion in the first place, but that I had moved the damn lion, and he had already walked right by it. It took almost ten minutes to get through that gate, and I was convinced this would be my third broken toe. I was gratefully proven wrong.

Once in the arena, I turned him loose to let out any leftover hysteria, which he did, in fine form. He moves so beautifully when I am not on his back. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and only caught him when he got tired of running and had grown too curious about why I wasn't paying him any attention. (Want to catch a horse? Let him catch you.)

It's still dicey grooming and tacking the guy up, as he has more dance moves than Fred Astaire, but I did it. Then I noticed his tail was matted from all the rain and wind of late, and started to work.

Oh--he loves that. I am always sure I am going to get an imprint of his size 6 back feet when I spend time untangling his 4 foot tail, even though I am very careful to stand to the side of him, and close to him, so he has no space to really wind up first. Luckily, the lion had worn him out, and he surrendered to my playing Barbie with him for the next twenty minutes. Once or twice he raised a back hoof, but he always put it down again. I think he was just making sure I didn't forget they were there. As if.

Still, he was quite the picture when we finished.

Shortly thereafter, we moved outside, where he let me get on using the same "lion" that so startled him earlier. By this time, though, he was spent. We circled the herd a few times, but I got little more than a disinterested trot out of him. The few times I urged him into a canter, it felt like I had left the parking brake on. I kept checking to see if he had injured himself battling the lion, but he showed no obvious signs of lameness. Still, owing to his obvious mental trauma, we walked or trotted casually for the rest of our time together that afternoon. Perhaps we were both just grateful to get out of our latest adventure alive and unscathed. I know I was. I always am.