Those that know me know that I've always strongly believed in equal rights for gay people. I think it's really sad that there are still people out there who don't believe that gay people should be allowed to marry their partner simply because some part of the bible (the majority of which is no longer followed because we've discovered that it's no longer necessary to sacrifice a goat, lamb, or turtledove, and that there is no proper amount of money to pay for slaves because slavery is wrong) tells us we should hate it.

Tomorrow (March 5, 2009) the Supreme Court is going to hold discussions on the validity of Proposition 8 in California. It sickens me that a proposition that outrightly denies rights to a person who's only crime is to want to spend the rest of their life with their lover could be passed in a state that prides itself on being at the forefront of social change.

I believe there may be some confusion among the people as to what this proposition really means. I've heard people say "I believe that gays should be allowed to have equal rights, equal taxes, and the right to visit their partner in the hospital, but I don't think they should be allowed to be "married", because the bible says that's wrong." But that's what marriage is; it's the right to all of those things. Why would you call it something else just because instead of a man and woman, you have two women, or two men in the partnership? Although it may have started out that way, marriage is no longer something just for christians, catholics, or any other religious group. After all, if that were the case, athiests would not want- nor would they be allowed- to be married. Proposition 8 doesn't just say that gays cannot marry, it says that gays do not deserve those rights.

Opposing Prop 8 means that you believe in the constitutional rights given to us by our forefathers. "All men are created equal." You will not find the words "unless you are gay" written anywhere in that document·

I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to watch a horse get some eyeliner tattooed around his eye. No, this wasn't some vain owners attempt to make her pretty little show pony look perfect, but rather an attempt at saving his eyes, and maybe even his life. Paint horses are prone to skin irritations around their eyes due to the lack of pigmentation in the skin. It often manifests itself as sunburn, weepiness, carcinomas, and other forms of cancer.  This horse was definitely no exception, especially with his one blue eye. Ice Man, as he's called, already had a carcinoma removed from the eyelid of his blue eye, and had a good chance of having one come back. It was in his best interest to have some pigmentation added artificially. It certainly couldn't hurt. So here are some pictures of how it all went down:

The prep-work for tattooing the eye. Ice Man was unconscious for the duration of the event.



Mostly done with the first eye.



On to the second eye



He's all done, but since he's still under, Dr. Vos decided it'd be a good time to check his teeth as well



He's starting to wake up, so Doc's giving him a hand



Upsie-Daisy!



The finished product! So pretty!!



The tattoo artist, Jason and his team, did a wonderful job. He's the first person in the county to do this type of work. He really did save Ice Man and his eyes!!

Merry Christmas!
Yesterday, Kali and I made some Christmas Eve Truffles. Kelly helped out too towards the end, and really all I did was watch Kali make them and take pictures. But here you go.

Here's Kali pouring the cream into the mixing bowl



Now to add the chocolate...



Rolling the finished truffles in magic styrofoam rainbow sprinkles



The finished product!! Heck of yummy!



Strike a pose for a job well done!



Oh, the wonderful adventures of Marijke and Kali...and Kelly a little bit at the end.

I had this really great teacher when I was in horseshoeing school. His name was Bob Smith. He taught me about waaaay more than just shoeing. As a matter of fact, I credit a lot of the way I am today to Bob. He's like a second father to me.

But on the first day of school, he told us about how there are people out there in the world called "dream stealers." These people will tell you everything you need to hear to not accomplish your dreams and goals. They will knock you down, tell you you're worthless, and make you feel like you don't belong. The really fucked up thing is that these are people who supposedly love you: your friends, your parents, a spouse, a partner, whatever. They don't necessarely do it on purpose, but through their own selfish action of wanting to keep you close, they'll make you afraid to do the things you really want to. In my case, it was my mom, and my friend Jennifer. I could easily see my mom holding me back-she'd been doing it for years. She's always trying to get me to stay close to home, doesn't let me venture out and do things that could involve risk. But it was very hard for me to see my friend, my mentor, Jennifer, doing the exact same thing. It's not untill now, years later, that I see how much she had hindered me. Every time I got around her, I was 14 years old again. I was some little kid that she controlled, and who did everything she asked. I wasn't the adult, I wasn't the business owner. I was a kid.

I vowed that I would never do this to anyone I was in a relationship with-romantically or not. We all have these aspirations, but it's a lot easier for us to let them go and forget them if someone we love tells us to. Instead, I would rather you be happy away from me than miserable with me. And that's probably why I'm single....again. I can't stand to be in a relationship where I feel like neither of us are going anywhere. You have dreams and goals of your own. Stop living off mine. Go out and do your own thing. If it's meant to be, I'll still be there waiting for you.

Bob also told us about this book he had read, some science fiction novel. I cannot for the life of me remember the title or the author, but I am determined to find it. Anyway, in this book, there are these water-dwelling creatures called rock-clingers. They live in the swiftest part of the water, fighting the current by hanging on to the rocks. They stay on the same rock, all day, every day, until they die. Every now and then, one little rock clinger would say "Hey, what if I just let go of the rock and went downstream a little bit?" But his friends and family would say "NO WAY! You can't do that! The river moves too fast! You'll surley be crushed and die if you let go of the rock!" But then one brave little rock clinger will defy his friends and family, and let go. And he'll be swept away, and crash into the rocks, and bruise, and break, but then soon, he'll learn to swim. And he'll be able to go with the current. And his body heals, and he is free to explore all of the river, and live happily. Because he let go.

It's an amazing metaphore. I want to let go of the rock. In a sense I already have. I've definitely hit a lot of rocks along the way, but I think I found another one to hang onto. A smaller one, but one none the less that's keeping me from getting out there and showing the world who I really am, regardless of what they may think.

Wow. What a rant... I hope someone reads this and doesn't find it completely non-sensical. 

So, for some reason, while I was driving in between jobs, I thought "I wonder how I'm going to die... I'm sure It'll be something really ridiculous." And so I came up with these possible scenarios:

-I'll contract some sort of weird disease/cancer from bacteria found in some random horses hoof

-A horse will pull a nail through my hand AGAIN, except this time I'll get Tetanus because I refuse to get another Tetanus shot

-I'll get smashed by a Semi while driving my truck because it's the only vehicle big enough to do any damage to me

-While snowboarding, I'll see a lift tower. While I'm attempting to dodge this lift tower, I'll hit a tree

-I'll be at a childrens birthday party, and be gravely wounded in a "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" mishap

-I'll trip over absolutely NOTHING in a deserted parking lot at night and land on the only sharp object within a 1000 foot radius

So if you ever don't hear from me in a couple days, just assume something like that happened. And I'd like you to play "Set my Pony Free" from the "Flicka" Soundtrack at my funeral.

Last night, at 6:00 pm (after my normal work hours) I offered to go drain a hoof abscess for one of my clients, after the vet told her it would be fine to just wrap the foot for a few days and let it drain on its own. I was doing her and her horse a favor.

So I show up, the horse is really not that lame. Maybe a grade 3 out of 5, which for an abscessed hoof, is pretty sound. Normally they're walking on three legs. So obviously, the abscess is draining, and the horse is going sound. But whatever. I'll knife around in the sole for a while, see if anything shoots out. Nothing did. I tested with hoof testers, nothing. I tiny bit of heel soreness, but really nothing dramatic, and nothing that can be pinpointed to either heel. So I told the owner, it seems to be healing fine on its own. I wrapped it for her, and advised her to call me if the horse gets worse. Otherwise I would be back in a few days to nail the shoe back on.

I get a call from her at 8:00 this morning. I was still asleep, because I was out late last night, and my morning had canceled. The conversation went something like this:

me: (groggy) hello?

client: Hi. this is [client]. The wrap that you put on Brownie's foot came off.

me: Oh. No biggie. Those things never stay on *because you didn't put your horse in a stall like you were supposed to so it was walking around all night.* Just put a new one on.

client: Well, I'm just really busy. And I'm at work all day today. (She works from home, which is also where her horses are...)

me: ...........

client: .............Can you come out and put a new one on?

me: .............

Okay. Where the fuck do people get off thinking that it's okay to ask someone to drive a half an hour to spend less than five minutes wrapping a hoof, and then another half an hour to get back home?? Unfortunately, with our current economic crisis, I can't afford to be a bitch and tell her to buck up and figure out her priorities. I have to breathe, close my eyes, get rid of any dignity I have, and say, "yes. Sure. I'll be out in your direction at noon, so that's when I can do it." Of course, I will be billing her for drive time, and for the materials I use, but it's just the fact that she woke me up at 8:00 in the morning and spend more time talking to me than it would have taken her to walk out her front door and put the fucking bandage back on HERSELF!!!

Yeah. That's when I hate my job.

I was half asleep on the couch earlier. I felt Diamond jump up on the cushion next to me, and rub up against my side. I reached over to pet her, and found that she wasn't really there.

So, I have twelve horses to do today. Yes, 12. 10+2 Horses. Twelve. Supposing I manage to make it through all these horses, I will make $480. I could really use some of that right now. I have a $740 truck payment coming up, plus rent, plus my motorcycle payment, plus truck insurance, which is just about as much as the truck payment itself.

Not to mention that I saw diesel today for $4.46 a gallon. That's very bad news. Yeah. Almost $5.00 a gallon. I have a 35 gallon tank, so do the math. No, seriously. Do the math. I can't. I suck at it. All I know is that it's a fucking lot of money.

I've also taken a new doctor. Well, I started Arm and Hand Rehab, because I have tendinitis in my left arm, also known as my "tong hand". For those of you who don't know, the tong hand is the "smart hand", because it's the only one that moves around when forging. The Hammer Hand just moves up and down. It's strictly labor. Therefore, it's not that important. So, rehab is just yet another expense. BUT I need this so that I can spend more money on entry fees to go to the NCC in May and compete in a forging contest for 4 straight hours. Without rehab, my tendinitis will for sure not allow me to finish.

You know what, this started out as a bulletin, but I think I'm going to turn it into a blog. I feel like this is waaaay too long for a bulletin, and it's not really something that needs to be broadcasted in that fashion. Plus, I haven't blogged in quite a while.

I was just sitting at the dinner table at my parents house while they ate. I said something really stupid, and EVERYONE got really quiet. Then my little sister made the "awkward turtle" hand gesture, and I fucking LOST IT! I laughed so hard I was freakin CRYING! You should know that when I think something is really, really funny, I laugh really, really weird. I can't control it. It's been compared to a hyena. Well, apparently my tongue vibrates when I laugh. I didn't know about this till tonight, when Vickie's boyfriend pointed it out. So thank you, Bill. I'll never laugh in confidence again.

I had a lot of time to sit on my ass and think today while waiting for the Kerosene people to show up and fill my tank. They told me they'd be there "in the afternoon" which apparently meant any time between 12:01 pm and 6:00 pm. Anyway, I began reflecting on the things I did as a youngster. Being the middle child, I was pretty much doing anything I could to get attention, ethical or not. My little brother and sister were the tragic victims of my attempts.

I remember one of my very first "practical jokes" was played on Vickie, my little sister. I was like 5... We were still living in Lafayette at the time. Vickie was maybe three or so. For some reason, she really liked salt. Don't ask me why. She was three. Three year olds are always weird. Anyway, in the back yard, we had some white sand around our little treed area. I grabbed a huge piece of eucalyptus bark, piled it high with sand, and went in search of poor Vickie. When I found her, I showed her the 'salt' that I had found, and offered to pour it into her mouth for her. Ever trusting of her older sibling, she obliged. I poured a pretty good amount into her before she realized that this was not salt at all. She started crying, and told on me. I knew I was gonna be in BIG trouble, so I ran and hid. unfortunately, our small back yard didn't have a whole lot of space to hide in, so I opted for going behind a tree roughly two inches in diameter. I was found, and spanked.

Yep. That pretty much set the standard for the rest of my early childhood. Later on, we adopted my Pit Bull, Pinkie. I was 10, kirk and vickie were seven or eight. I told them that if they let Pinkie lick their Popsicles, and then they licked directly after her, they would absorb her ability to run really, really fast. This entertained me to no end, watching them lick their popsicles, then race against each other.

When we lived in Concord, we were on a pretty good sized piece of land, but we were only allowed to play in a small fenced area. Everything else was off-limits. I told kirk and vickie that if they went outside the fence, and ran down the hill, small blood-sucking animals that looked like dirt-clods would jump up and bite their legs. I called them "Leg Biters". I was very original.

I even went so far as to convince my little sister that I turned into a fox at night, and lived in a culvert at the bottom of the property.

I think we all turned out alright despite all that, however.

You know what though? I really suck at writing conclusions.