Monday, June 18, 2007, 05:54
Izzy's Abode
"Hi Isabelle," I said.
I could just see the white nose of my little black filly with the white face beneath the west wall of her shelter. She was standing outside, with her nose next to the wall, watching me dig a post hole.
I certainly hadn't expected to be digging a post hole at 9 p.m. Sunday evening. But that's what I was doing.
Earlier in the evening when we fed the horses, I was putting fly spray on Isabelle while Randy was using the fork to clean out her shelter. The filly stands in there for most of the day when it's hot, making maximum use of the shade.
It was then that he noticed her shelter was almost off the blocks it was sitting on. A year ago last fall, right after we had gotten Isabelle, we got an old turkey shelter from the turkey farm down the road and modified it so Isabelle could have her own little barn, seeing as my old gelding, Kajun, wanted nothing more than to back her into a corner and kick her to pieces.
After being alone for quite a few years, I was hoping Kajun would be glad to have another horse around. He was glad all right -- he was so happy that he could have another horse to push around and chase around and bite and bully and lay his ears back at. Isabelle wanted to be friends. Kajun wanted to make her life miserable.
Anyway, it was while Randy was cleaning out her shelter that he noticed it was almost off the blocks we had put it on so it would be high enough for her to walk in and out of. From the moment we had put it in the pasture, Randy had wanted to spray paint "Izzy's Abode" on the shelter.
Of course I knew right away why the shelter was almost off the blocks. For quite a while now, Isabelle has been backing into the north corner so she can scratch her tail. She had pushed against the shelter so much with her scratching that she had moved it about six inches.
To tell you the truth, I've always been afraid that I would come outside some morning and see the shelter tipped over.
Randy and I decided we had to get it lifted up and moved back where it belonged right away. If Isabelle pushed against her shelter one more time, it could very well be pushed right over.
At first we thought we would have to get the tractor out to lift the shelter up. That's how we got it up on blocks in the first place. But then Randy struck upon the idea of using a jack to lift it up. We lifted up the south corner, repositioned the block and set it back down. Then we lifted up the north corner, moved the block and put it back down.
We knew, though, that if we didn't find a way to secure the shelter better, Isabelle would have it almost pushed off the blocks again in no time flat.
In addition to Randy driving spikes down into the blocks, we decided another post was in order. There was already one post we had put into the ground and had nailed to the shelter on the inside. Randy thinks the post was about the only thing that kept the shelter for going off the blocks. A second post sunk in the ground and nailed to the side of the shelter would make it just that much stronger.
So, I got out the post hole digger and went to work. A few minutes later, I could see Isabelle's white nose under the wall of the shelter, contemplating what I was doing. When I was finished with post hole, we sunk another post, and then Randy secured the post to the side of the shelter with a big spike.
Well, one good thing about it. At least it stays daylight for a long time now so we could fix Isabelle's shelter. I would much rather be digging a post hole at 9 p.m. rather than coming outside in the morning and discovering that Isabelle's shelter had been pushed over.
Isabelle's shelter, unfortunately, was the second repair job of the evening. When we walked down into the barn earlier, we had discovered that Kajun had nearly pulled the planks off the posts. His water tub was broken by the handle, too.
We figured that the horse got his foot between the braided twine string that we had used to tie the handles of the tub to the post. We tie the tub to the post to keep him from tipping it over. As the horse pulled back, trying to get his foot out, he broke the handle off the tub -- but not before he pulled the nails out of the planks that were holding the planks to the posts. I figured he might have some leg injuries, but I couldn't see anything.
My little kittens in the barn -- eight of them -- who are starting to eat more on their own and who are just as cute as can be -- were beside themselves. After I put out some food for them, they were all so jumpy they could hardly eat. Every little noise sent them scampering for cover. I can just about imagine the noise that must have been in the barn while Kajun was busy breaking his tub and pulling the nails out of the planks. The kittens must have been quite frightened by all of the commotion.
The funny thing of it is, too, is that the tub has been tied to the post like that for nearly 12 years. Kajun has never gotten his foot in there before. Although, as they say, I guess there's a first time for everything.
But with any luck at all, it won't happen again. Kajun only has one handle left on his water tub.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Sunday, June 17, 2007, 05:53
Birthday Bash
I put the key in the ignition of my little '95 GMC pickup truck and turned it.
Nothing.
Well, not "nothing" actually. I heard a buzzing in the steering column. But the engine was not turning over.
So I turned the key again.
Still nothing.
"I guess we're not taking this truck," I said to Randy.
It was Wednesday evening -- and Randy's birthday, to boot. I had made reservations at a restaurant by the lake, not far from where we live. We've only been to that restaurant one other time in the 12 years we have lived here. I thought it would be fun to take Randy out to dinner for his birthday.
Except, *I* wasn't going to be able to take him. We were going to have to take his truck. We didn't have much time to spare, either, seeing as I had made the reservations for 7 p.m.
So we switched trucks.
Unbeknownst to Randy, I had invited a close friend of his and his wife to join us. It was a tiny little bit of a surprise party for my husband. And he was surprised, too. Thank goodness.
Dinner was good. The place is famous in the area for its prime rib, so that's what we all had.
Still, I couldn't help thinking about my little pickup truck. I needed the truck the next day to get into the newspaper office to pick up some copies of the school district administrator's contract. The administrator has resigned, and there is discrepancy between what the contract stipulates and what school board members thought they were approving for the contract.
The "discrepancy" amounts to more than $200,000 in payout for an administrator who resigned and took another job. It's a situation that the school board thought they were going to avoid by amending the contract. Other administrators have resigned to take another job and then have come back years later claiming that they "retired" and are eligible for early retirement benefits.
I highly resented having to worry about my truck -- not to mention the district administrator's severance clause. It was my husband's birthday, after all.
By the time we had finished dinner and had finished chatting, it was nearly 9 p.m. Not so bad, though, because at this time of year it is light out in this neck of the woods until almost 10 p.m.
The gentleman we had dinner with suggested that the GMC's battery might be the problem. I'm no car expert, but any batteries that have gone dead on me before this have gone deader than a doornail in the blink of an eye. One time the vehicle starts. The next time there's nothing -- no beeps, buzzes, whirs. No radio. No heater. No fan for the defroster. No horn. Do dome light Nothing. I still had buzzers and a dome light, so it didn't seem like the battery.
When we arrived home, Randy changed his clothes and got out the battery charger.
"This is a great way to celebrate your birthday," I said. "Just lovely."
My husband put the battery charger on the battery, and then I gave the kitties their medicine. And then we took the dogs for a walk. By the time we got back, the charger had been on the battery for almost an hour. But the needle which indicates the battery is getting charged up had not moved one little bit. It seemed that the battery was not going to take a charge.
"Now what am I going to do?" I said. "I'm going to have to drive you to work and then come back and get you tomorrow night, I suppose."
Randy drives about 25 miles to work.
"I suppose that's what you'll have to do," Randy said. "Unless we can get your truck jump started. Then maybe the battery will charge enough so you can get it started tomorrow and get into town to buy a new battery."
This did not sound like a good idea to me.
"What happens if I can't make it into town?" I said.
"There is that, I guess," Randy said.
"What about," I said, "if we get a battery tonight from Wal-Mart. The store is open 24 hours."
I really did not like to suggest this because I don't like giving my business to Wal-Mart if I can help it, but at the same time, I couldn't see that I had much choice.
"Hey, that's a thought!" Randy said. "If we put the new battery in and it still doesn't start, we'll know it's not the battery."
A few minutes later we headed to Wal-Mart. When we arrived at the store it was 11:30 p.m.
We found a battery that would work in my truck, and at midnight, Randy was trying to get the old battery out so we could see if the new battery worked. He had gotten out his little handy, dandy portable, magnetic light -- which gave off quite a bit of light. The light didn't make up for the fact that it was midnight, though. Changing the battery would have been *much* better in the daylight.
Finally, the new battery was installed.
With a feeling of dread, I put the key in the ignition, turned it -- and success! The GMC started.
"Hey!" Randy said. "Good deal. It *was* the battery."
"Yes," I said, "but this didn't turn out to be much of a birthday for you. Who wants to change a battery at midnight on his birthday?"
"I do," Randy said. "Because if I change the battery and the truck starts, then I don't have to worry about you being able to get some place or getting stranded. Plus, I'm glad it was *only* the battery. When you think about it, that's a pretty nice birthday present!"
Well, maybe so. But I still would have rather not put my husband through changing a battery at midnight -- birthday or no birthday.
LeAnn R. Ralph