Wednesday, December 28, 2005, 07:09
What Took So Long?
After 83 hours of cleaning and painting, I finally did it.
I stuck my head in the paint.
Well, not my whole head. Just the left side.
And not my head, really. Just my hair.
It was while I was trying to paint a tricky spot above the cabinets that divide the kitchen and dining room Tuesday evening that I inadvertently brushed my hair against the wet paint on the ceiling. At first, I didn't realize I was sticking my head so close to the wet paint. When I finally did realize, it was too late.
"Did I get paint in my hair?" I said to Randy, who had come home from work only a few minutes ago.
"Oh, gosh, yes. From front to back. You'll have to take a shower," he said.
When I got to a point where I could stop, I went into the bathroom to look.
Sure enough, the whole left side of my head was 'frosted' with light green paint.
"I don't want to stop and take a shower right now," I said, going to the kitchen sink with a bottle of shampoo and a towel. "I'll just wash my hair. And hope that it comes out."
Fortunately, the paint washed out of my hair.
I am estimating that I have another 12 hours of work. And then I will be finished painting the house.
Thank goodness.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Tuesday, December 27, 2005, 07:46
A Brand New Trick
"What are you doing?" I asked.
For about the 20th time, Isabelle had turned her rear end toward me and was backing up, slowly, relentlessly and with great precision.
I can't begin to tell you how disconcerting it is to have a horse turn her rear end toward you and then start backing up. Behavior such as this usually indicates that the horse is sizing you up to begin flinging her hind feet in your direction.
Isabelle has been doing this for the past month. She follows me all over the pasture when I am going around with the stall picker and five gallon bucket to pick up horse manure. As soon as I set the bucket down and get to work, she swings her rear end toward me and starts backing toward me.
Even though I have watched her closely, I can't find any clues that would indicate she is planning to kick. Her ears are not pinned back on her head. She is not swishing her tail. She is not stomping her feet. And yet she is slowly and carefully backing up toward me.
One day last week, I finally figured it out.
Isabelle wants her tail scratched!
At first, I indulged her in this little whim. Whenever I set the bucket down, she would back up to me, I would take off my gloves, and then I would scratch her tail.
To begin with she was content with one scratching session, and then she would go back to eating her hay.
It didn't take long for Isabelle to decide to follow me wherever I went and then go into her backing up routine.
It didn't take long for me to decide I was not going to allow that particular habit. After all, I don't want her to get the idea that she should swing her rear end toward every human being she comes in contact with. Not everyone is going to know she just wants her tail scratched!
Whenever Isabelle starts backing toward me, I either whack her with the stall picker -- which doesn't bother her in the least. Or else I clap my hands. Which doesn't bother her, either. She does, however, stop backing up.
When I am finished cleaning up the manure, then I go to the barn and get the curry comb or another little brush that I've got for brushing tails.
Monday morning when I came back with the tail brush, Isabelle had already gone back to eating her hay.
"Look what I've got, Isabelle," I said, holding up the pink plastic brush.
Isabelle took one look at the brush, ran toward me, and then swung her rear end around.
"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," I said.
As I brushed Isabelle's tail, she turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were all soft and dreamy, and her upper lip was twitching slightly. When I finished with her tail, I ran the brush down her neck and on her chest and flanks and back. Isabelle stood as still as could be, enjoying the attention.
When I was done, she let out a huge sigh. Then she went back to eating her hay again.
This is all fine and dandy, of course. It's a way for me to give Isabelle some attention and a way for us to build trust and to bond and all of that sort of thing.
Except -- what I want to know is -- how did she determine that if she backed up to me, I could scratch her tail for her?
The only thing I can think of is that last summer, and earlier in the fall, when it was hot and the flies were bad, I was brushing her every day and putting fly spray on her. Maybe at some point she realized that getting her tail brushed felt good, and that if she could communicate to me that she wanted her tail brushed, she could get that same good feeling.
If that's the case, it means that Isabelle has a good memory. And it also means that she is able to transfer the outcome of an experience from one situation to a different situation.
Both of them bode well, I think, for the potential for Isabelle to become a very good saddle horse.
Painting -- I have one wall done in the dining room and half of the ceiling!
LeAnn R. Ralph