Happy Anniversary - I think

Three years ago my high school sweetheart and I celebrated our 50th Wedding Anniversary.  And, yes, we were children.  I was all of 20.  Sharon w2as 18.  Sharon was of majority age, so could sign for herself, but I had to take my Dad with us to Visalia to get our Marriage License.

Our children had splurged on a huge 70th Birthday party for me the year before, so were not able to throw a big party for out 50th.  We decided to do something on our own, just the two of us.

Morro Bay and The Galley Restaurant have long been a favorite place to dine, so we made reservations with Roger at The Galley and made sure Sharon was going to be able to get a nice big piece of Halibut for her dinner.  We also hunted up a pet-friendly motel, so we could minimize the expenses by eliminating the kenneling fee, and loaded our three dogs up on the folded-down back seat.

All was happiness and light until we got to Kettleman City for a late breakfast.  We pulled into a chain restaurant, gave the dogs a brief walk and left them in the truck.  After a nice breakfast, we again walked the dogs, and congratulated ourselves.  This was going well.

Sharon was snoozing by the time we were approaching Paso Robles.  Then the phone rang.  The house-cleaning lady reported that our aging mare had fallen, and was having trouble getting up.  Her husband was hurrying to help her.  We had to turn around and hurry home.  If we had that kind of problem, our anniversary would have to wait.

Two hours back to home, and we drove into the driveway to find the old mare contentedly grazing and suffering no lasting effects of a fall.  Make a cup of coffee for Sharon, and we were once again off to celebrate 50 years.

As we crossed the cattle guard at the bottom of our drive, Sharon looked at me, panic in her eyes. "Where's my coffee?"

The coffee had spilled off the side of the pickup bed, onto her suitcase, soaking the blouse she wanted to wear to dinner that night.  Nothing would have it, but we had to wash and dry that blouse. While we waited, I called the restaurant and canceled our dinner reservation for we were going to get in too late.  We'd just stop on the way, then go to The Galley tomorrow.

When we pulled into Kettleman City for dinner, the same chain restaurant seemed a logical choice. We were told it would be a twenty minute wait.  Thirty minutes later we were seated, and then after another twenty-five minutes of being totally ignored, without even a set-up, menu, nor water, we decided that was enough.

A few miles further, we stopped at a gas station, and bought our anniversary dinner.  Back on the road for Morro Bay, we ate two cold sandwiches, shared a bag of chips, and two big waters.  Happy Anniversary, Darling.

No more than one mile further west than the spot we'd turned back to attend to the mare earlier in the day, the water pump came apart, punching the fan into the radiator.  Fortunately, I had a friend who lived less than half a mile away, and we were soon parked in front of his shop.

I called a friend in Paso Robles, and we were taken in to their house.  The next morning, when I called the guy with our truck, he said he'd found all the parts we'd need, and had another friend who was willing to fix the truck. All I had to do was meet him with my credit card, and  he'd even gotten me a discount.

By 4:00 PM the truck was fixed, and I was on my way back to the friends in town.  I called Sharon.

"Do you still want to go on to Morro Bay?  The motel is already paid for, and we could probably get our dinner at The Galley tonight, if you'd like."

Her answer was almost predictable.  "I think I've had all this kind of fun I want to have.  Let's just go home."

This week we celebrated our 53rd Anniversary.  We even considered going to Morro Bay to finally get that halibut dinner.  But, with Sharon's recent surgery, and subsequent hospital stay, the trip is just a bit too much.

"Happy Anniversary Dear."

Strawberry and Ruby Are Shedding.

White winter-coat hair litters the ground where I curried Strawberry.

Last Thursday I wrote about currying winter hair off Strawberry, my big Belgian mare.  Today I grabbed the curry comb and went back for another session of removing the heavy winter coat.

When I started working on Strawberry's big back, Ruby, our Appaloosa mare was a little put out that I was paying attention to Strawberry and not to her.  She promptly walked between us.  It was almost as if she was saying to me, "Hey.  I've got a coat too.  Scratch my back."

Ruby is a much shorter-hair animal, but even her back gave up a significant amount of dark gray fuzz.  Scratching Strawberry, who is a strawberry roan and is mostly white with flecks of red, fills my comb with mostly white hair.

Ruby has spots of white on her black coat, mostly on her rump, with more white spots around her body, The winter coat is not nearly as dark as the rest of her hair. Currying her fills my comb with a dark gray, very fine, hair.

In the cold weather, the animals grow a "winter coat" which is not apparent to the eye, until it begins to shed.  Then it looks patchy, sometimes with clumps of hair waiting to be removed.

Strawberry sheds a large amount of winter hair, enough so that this afternoon the ground where we were standing, is white with the results of combing.  Even Ruby produced a full comb several times, though not nearly as much as Strawberry.

The dry spots in the "horse posture" have become spots for Strawberry to roll and scratch the winter coat she wants to remove.  There are several white patches in the pasture where she has already rolled multiple times.

The lighter patches in the green grass are coated with Strawberry's rolling efforts.