A Day Late and ... You Know

I overheard a conversation last week wherein one person wished another Happy New Year, then asked if there is a set time after which it is no longer acceptable to do so. They agreed that you should say Happy New Year the first time you see people that year, but not beyond the month of January. I made it: Happy New Year, dear blogger buddies!

You may have noticed (or not) that it's been awhile since I posted. There are a number of reasons for that. My dental emergency just before Christmas seems to have compromised my entire immune system, so it's been a battle to stay well and mobile. The prolonged period of inactivity has taken its toll on my creaky body, but I believe I'm finally on the upside of all that nonsense.

Work has been busy, and after writing for eight hours a day, the last thing I feel like doing when I get home is writing some more.

I haven't ridden since about Thanksgiving, either due to other commitments, stinky weekend weather, or just not feeling up to it.

If you look back over my posts since Daylight Savings Time kicked in, most of them are either subjects I've researched, or revolve around feeding time at Casa Fry. I commute an hour each way to my job. This time of year it's dark when I leave in the morning and close to it when I get home in the early evening. Whenever I am able, I cut out of work a few minutes early so I get to see the Boyz in a few minutes of daylight.

When I get home, I change my clothes, bundle up, and spend 45 minutes to an hour in my role as Cafeteria Lady, in good weather and bad. I have to stay with them until Daltrey is done eating so he gets his full portion of food. The ironic part about only seeing the horses to feed them during the week is that I'm actually spending more time with them on a consistent basis. What has surprised me is the quality of that time.

Would you look at our BIG, butt-high baby boy? His butt is up to my shoulders, but his withers are a good 4-6 inches below that. He's holding his weight well. He's super social and curious. He is 10 months old, so his attention span is still short (or nonexistent), and he's a bit of a spaz. We're learning basic manners, such as being touched all over, not nibbling people, leading, picking up feet, and (to me) the biggest one — stay the hell out of my space, goober. Mike and I jokingly call him an "empty kettle" because he doesn't know anything, although he's not dumb, by any stretch.

It's a joy to see Jaz in such good health. This time last year, we were battling strongyles, which he likely had for a long time. We call him our "delicate grey flower" because he's always the first to react to the weather. No joke: I used to have to blanket him if it dipped much below 60°. Although temps have dipped into the 30's, he's been warm and happy. This evening they are forecasting a "wintry mix," and this is the first time I feel like I probably should blanket them.

In the evenings, when Jaz and Poco have finished their token portions of food — neither of them need it — they hang out, waiting for the OK to finish the food Daltrey has flung. Jaz and I have a game we play. I'll be sitting in my chair, and Jaz will come up behind me and put his nose on the top of my head or one of my shoulders, and wiggle his nose. That's my signal to make a pinching motion in the air with my hand, and he puts his nose between my fingers, so I can gently grab it and wiggle it. If I try to ignore him, he will gently muss my hair or nibble my hat or hood. He loves this game.

>sigh< As you can plainly see, Poco is as broad as a freakin' barge, and his attitude screams that he needs to be ridden BIG TIME. At meal time, he and I play head games. So, what else is new? He and Jaz both know the routine inside and out: they may stand and watch as I load their buckets, but as I am closing the grain locker, they make their way to their pans, where they are expected to stand at a respectable distance while I dispense the food. Jaz gets fed first, then Poco, then Baby. Lately, Poco marches his fat ass over to Daltrey's pan and waits there until I run him off. Then he goes over and runs Jaz off, grabbing as many mouthfuls of Jaz's food as he can until I can get over there to herd him over to his own pan.

Surprisingly, Poco is not as pushy at the waiting game as Jaz, who is stealthy and relentless. Poco finds a place close to me, and parks himself until I give the all-clear to grab the spoils. He likes to put his nose just next to my ear, or he'll put his head down so I can whisper in his ear, which he absolutely loves. He's not above a bit of gentle nuzzling to get my attention.

Most nights, the sun has already gone down by the time I get home, but sometimes I get lucky.

Actually, you know what? I'm lucky every darn day.