He was in the pen with his Lady Friends, and we have a cold front moving in so I didn’t stay very long. I have to take The Kid to an open house at the local community college so we can learn about the classes she needs to take to get a license as a Veterinary Technician. Ultimately she wants to be a Veterinarian, but getting certified as a Vet Tech will be the litmus test to see if she really wants to go through all the years of school to accomplish it. Plus then she can “earn while she learns” which is good for us, because I think the tuition costs will, in the end, be far greater than any residual “Free Vet Services” we’ll receive in return for the college fund. Of course, having access to a syringe full of the “Pink Stuff” will be her leverage for keeping us in line in our old age. Not commenting on piercings, tattoos and choice of boyfriends lest we awaken one night to find her putting us to sleep.
Anyway, back to Stan. I arrived armed with my trusty Handycam and a pocket full of carrots. This was both a good and bad idea. The carrots make it so I don’t have to slog through the muck. However, it also made it almost impossible to get a good shot of Stan. Why? Because I got to see a lot of this:
He really likes his carrots.
So in between trying to hold carrots above my head to get a photo and avoiding losing fingers mistaken as treats, I did manage to get this:
Stan is looking a little dark these days, which Ro, who was at one time a Vet Tech, tells me is good. It means that Stan is slowly dying. He sure looks ugly doing it.
I finished Stan’s photo shoot at the same time I ran out of treats. Actually I had to, because every time I tried to take another shot of Stan there was a huge nostril in my way.
And of course, when Dreamer and his GF’s realized that the well had run dry, I got “The Pout.”
So I left, feeling like a heel, because I had not brought a wheelbarrow full of carrots. But before I got off of the property I took a few more shots.
This is the view from the barn.
It is a fourteen million-dollar facility built by the department of parks and recreation.
When we first moved here I drove a Le Baron convertible, which I loved. But after my first spring in Utah, I bought a Jeep wrangler. Why? Because I wanted a convertible, but to see my horse I had to slog through this:
Which makes the Jeep look like this:
But it’s all good. Because of the Jeep, whenever I want to I get to see him.
:)
6 comments:
I know the feeling about the jeep. I love my truck with its 4 wheel drive. My street is currently 8 inches of slushy muck. Yum. It's supposed to snow tomorrow.
bleter -- a lamb that can't keep a secret.
It's a shame that the LeBaron came to such a sad end. I loved my old LeBaron, but there is just something about an ex to kill a car.
I love the Jeep, too. And it's more practicle for here, anyway. Those mountains? I drive it up into them, over Guardsman's pass, comming out in the beautiful Heber valley. Sooo, "The Breeze" (That was the name of the Le Baron... you should always name your vehicle, it makes them feel special)was sacrificed for the good of my horse, but it was okay.
I never could have gotten it up the back of the Kennecott Copper mine, anyway.
largetba: You don't know exactly what it is, but whatever it is, it's gonna be BIG!!!
My truck is the big white hefelump (you know, hefelumps and woozles from Winnie the poohs honey acid trip) or just the white elephant works, too.
ovenelog -- what you call the roast that you left in the oven too long
Did you get that old suburban from your sister?
Ingstim: a town in Sweden where they use a lot of active verbs.
Oh Stan is drying up--YEAH! And I totally understand about springs, winters, non-convertibles, etc., in Utah.
Way to go Kid! :)
Allycen
Love the pout. Yay! Another vet tech and maybe another vet. At least that's a job that can't be outsourced.
thnesqam--do I look Swedish to you?
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