Category Archives: animals

animals, celebrities, complaints, condescending twatbags, social media

Wow! Who knew commenting on Facebook required sharing my resume?

The featured photo was taken in September 1988, right after my beloved Appaloosa pony, Rusty (Diamonds n’ Rust) and I won first place at the State 4H horse show in Richmond, Virginia. There were about seventy other ponies in that class. It was a great morning and a highly unexpected surprise to win first. Rusty bucked, but I guess the judge never saw it happen.

If you follow my blog, you probably know that I have a tendency to overshare sometimes. I often feel compelled to share the whole story, even if it’s not necessarily interesting or wise to do so. We all have lessons we could learn. I know I could use a few lessons in brevity. However, even someone who overshares, like I tend to do sometimes, can be surprised by other people’s expectations on social media platforms.

Before I get started, I will issue a half-hearted apology for the fact that my writing this week has been so much about stupid Facebook dramas. The good news is, I’m so annoyed by the responses I’ve gotten on recent comments I’ve made, that I now make a conscious effort to comment less. That could mean that I’ll move on to more hard-hitting or entertaining topics. One can only hope!

Anyway… on with today’s gripe.

A couple of days ago, Facebook suggested either a group or a page about Elizabeth Taylor. I honestly don’t know why it was suggested to me. I was never a big Liz Taylor fan. I mean, I certainly thought she was a beautiful woman, and as a horse crazy kid, I appreciated her performance in National Velvet. I do remember seeing her guest star on The Nanny, and I saw her in commercials for her perfumes and such, but I don’t know much about her acting career.

Liz Taylor was a little behind my era, and had done a lot of her most famous acting roles before I was born. I wasn’t into most old movies when I was growing up, aside from the major ones like Gone With The Wind, The Sound of Music, and The Wizard of Oz. When I was coming along, I heard more about her marriages, alcoholism, and celebrity activism, than anything else.

I think I was more familiar with her son, Michael Wilding Jr.’s, work as an actor. He was on Guiding Light and Dallas, back in the 80s, and I watched both of those shows.

Anyway, for some reason, Facebook suggested this Elizabeth Taylor page to me, along with a post about her love for horses. There was a picture of her, as an adolescent, with a horse– probably the one who starred with her in National Velvet. And there was a quote by her about how she’d learned to jump before making the movie, and had successfully jumped a six foot fence while riding bareback. She allegedly said it made her feel like she was flying.

As someone who literally spent a huge portion of my childhood in a barn, I find that story pretty hard to believe. Is it the truth? Maybe… but I still find it implausible. Not that many horses regularly jump six foot fences. Those that do tend to be very valuable jumpers. And, in all of my years around horses, I’ve never seen nor heard of anyone jumping at that height bareback… at least not on purpose! Could it have happened? I suppose. But I noticed a lot of people agreed with me that the story sounded a bit like bullshit. They were saying so in the comment section.

I added a casual comment to someone’s response, reminding everyone that National Velvet was made in 1944. So if she did try to jump six feet while bareback, it likely would have been extremely dangerous and foolish. She probably didn’t bother wearing a hat (helmet), and even if she did wear one, it was not as safe or effective as the ones that people wear today. If she tried such a stunt and was successful, she was damned lucky… and pretty stupid, in my opinion. But again… it’s just my opinion, and I realize I could be wrong.

“Velvet Brown, who do you think you ARE?”

When I left this comment, I was being totally casual. It was an offhand remark– the online equivalent of small talk. This is a very trivial issue to me, and not something I care to research or verify. Mainly, I was just gratified to see that I wasn’t the only one who was calling bullshit on the story’s veracity.

Naturally, people started tagging me in responses, reminding me that Liz Taylor allegedly started riding when she was three years old, so she wasn’t a “new” rider, as I wrongly assumed, based on what was written in the quote.

Again, Liz Taylor doesn’t really matter to me, so I didn’t look her up to see when her ass first landed on a horse’s back. If she really started riding at age 3, fair enough… although I doubt she was progressing that much in her skills at that age. I wouldn’t expect her to be good enough to be piloting talented jumpers over six foot fences, even if she did start riding at age 3. Certainly not bareback. That’s sheer lunacy to me. My opinion again. It was not something I really wanted to argue about. If it’s true, it’s true. I don’t really care one way or the other.

The evening wore on, and Bill and I went to bed. I spent all day blissfully unaware of that post and, in fact, had completely forgotten about it. Then, at about 5 PM, I got a tag from someone I didn’t know. Not knowing what she was referencing, I clicked to see what was up. And it was some twat who wrote something along the lines of, “Have you ever even been on a horse? Do you know *anything* about horses?” Then there was a long diatribe about how Liz Taylor certainly could have been jumping six foot fences bareback, and a link to some site that I didn’t bother checking. To tell you the truth, I didn’t read beyond her first two sentences, because I found them extremely insulting and irritating, and I was momentarily really pissed.

Weeee! Us again… probably in 1988.

You see, I spent years riding horses. I owned a very special Appaloosa pony for years. I took lessons, cleaned stalls, went to horse shows, showed hunt seat and Western, went on competitive trail rides, attended riding clinics given by fancy Frenchmen, fox hunted, completed 4 H horse projects, and I have a huge box full of over 200 ribbons, plaques, medals and such in storage in Texas. I even won a horse blanket one year. So yes, I do know my way around a horse, even though I gave up riding a long time ago.

Maybe I should have responded to the idiot with just a picture of my ribbons…

I realize this person doesn’t know me at all. I don’t know her at all. My guess, though, is that I was probably riding horses and shoveling manure when she was still a spark in her daddy’s testicles. I also suspect, like a lot of Facebook experts, she moseyed on over to my Facebook page to see if there was any evidence of my “expertise” with horses. When she saw no equine pics on the public version of my account, she wrongly assumed that I don’t have any experience with horses, hence her moronic challenging questions to me– a total stranger.

I was tempted to respond with indignance, but instead, I took a deep breath, and then sighed with a loud groan of utter annoyance. Then I posted something along the lines of this:

Yes, I have experience with horses. I grew up riding and showing my own horse. I still don’t believe this story. If you do, good for you. I really don’t care.

Then, just because I had a feeling it would inspire laughter from those who knew me when I was young, I posted this:

I was gratified when my former riding instructor wrote this…

A time or two?🤣🤣🤣. Try more years than I care to think about! 🙈🙈

I am honestly very indebted to my old riding instructor, because I certainly wasn’t the easiest person to teach… or even just to deal with, especially when I was going through puberty. And she was there to see me in all my moody, hormonal glory! Isn’t it awesome that I still know her as I’m now going through menopause! I’m not quite as moody these days… or, at least I cry less.

It’s because of her that I ever owned a horse of my very own. She taught me so much, and having unlimited access to her farm no doubt kept me out of trouble… and possibly even the psych ward. I had a tendency toward depression in those days (as well as today, but now I have booze).

The fact that I had a horse, and had to work to keep him, kept me productive and active, and helped stave off the darkest moods of depression. I spent hours riding my bike to and from her farm, cleaning the ten stalls in her barn, and doing the many horsey chores required when you have a horse. Even if you aren’t into showing, as I was in those days, there’s a lot of work to be done. I do miss it– and horses– very much. But I think the work might kill me these days. 😀

So yes, when some rando on Facebook asks me if I “know anything” about horses, simply because we disagree about a silly quote allegedly by Elizabeth Taylor– a dead actress I don’t even particularly care about– it does smart a bit. Was she really expecting me to post my horse experience resume on such a random comment between total strangers? Who’s got the time for it?

However, I was also gratified that my fellow horsey friend from those days, another of the many Jennifers born in the 70s, posted this in response to my peevish status update…

Ha! I was doubting that post from Liz too. I’ve never seen anyone do six feet bareback.

Jennifer and I were in 4 H together and enjoyed many a hot Saturday at horse shows when we were growing up in Gloucester, Virginia. She knows her way around horses, too. And anyone who knew me in those days, knows that horses were then my life. It’s almost hard to believe now. Seems like a dream.

I guess this incident can be filed away under yet another reason why Facebook sucks. But then, if it weren’t for Facebook, I couldn’t share a laugh with the people I knew when I was an avid horsewoman. It’s a testament to the specialness of that time that those people are still my friends so many years later.

Whether or not Liz Taylor ever jumped six foot fences while riding a horse bareback isn’t that important, at least not to me. She’s been dead for years, so it’s not like her feelings are going to be hurt if I don’t believe this alleged quote from her about her horseback riding skills. Maybe it is the truth, but I don’t feel like verifying it, one way or the other. Especially now.

Liz’s alleged quote kind of reminds me of that ghastly video of Alan Osmond, when he talked about how he was the best marksman in his Army basic training unit, yet he never saw a single day in Vietnam. Instead, he stayed behind at Fort Ord, where he served as a typist. Now, I absolutely respect Alan for serving in the Army, but I think his claims about his military badassery are probably hyperbolic bullshit. And this quote by Elizabeth Taylor is probably similarly hyperbolic. I base that on my experiences with horses, even as I acknowledge that I’m not an expert and I quit riding some time ago. I never claimed to be an expert. I just know what bullshit smells like.

So no, I don’t feel like qualifying myself with a rundown of my equine experience and expertise, just to be allowed to leave a comment on a random Facebook post about horses. I shouldn’t be expected to do that. I’ve got more important things to do, like manscaping Bill’s chest hair.

On another note… I notice that a lot of horse people really can be insufferable jerks. I don’t miss that.

Standard
animals, disasters, healthcare, Texas

When snakes and hawks attack out of nowhere…

Happy Friday, everybody. We have beautiful weather this morning. The sun is shining, and the weather report says the temperatures will top out at about 84 degrees, which is a bit warmer than it’s been, but still not super hot. I’ll take that over some of the weather I’ve been reading about in other locations in the world. I am, for damned sure, glad I don’t live in Texas anymore, even though I still vote there. The extreme weather is just one reason why I am grateful we’re not living there anymore. Another is because of the extreme wildlife in Texas.

This morning, as Bill and I were eating breakfast, I was reading The New York Times, and I came across the bizarre story of what happened to Texas resident, Peggy Jones, late last month. I’ve run out of free articles to share, so here’s the CNN link.

The reporter wrongly states that this happened on August 1st. According to other news sources and Wendell Jones’s Facebook page, it actually happened on July 25th.

Peggy Jones, age 64, and her husband, Wendell, have been married for 45 years, and they have four grandchildren. The couple own an investment property in Silsbee, Texas, which is about one hundred miles north of Beaumont. The property has been in their family since 1850. It takes about three hours to mow the grass– and that’s with tractors. But the mowing work has to be done, and Peggy and Wendell Jones have been doing it together without issue for many years.

July 25th seemed like an ordinary Texas day, with temperatures climbing into the triple digits. Peggy was out on her tractor, far from the treeline, mowing the grass. All of a sudden, out of the clear blue sky, a dark colored, four-and-a-half foot long snake landed on her arm. It immediately tightly coiled itself around her forearm. Naturally, Peggy started screaming bloody murder, while trying to remove the serpent, which responded by coiling even tighter and striking at her face. Fortunately, Peggy was wearing her glasses, so the snake’s bites weren’t making contact with her face.

As Peggy struggled to knock the snake off of her arm, her tractor continued to creep forward. She screamed for help but Wendell was in the front yard, and he couldn’t hear his wife’s cries. The noise from Wendell’s own tractor, and the sound of nearby traffic, were drowning out Peggy’s hysterical shrieks.

Then, just when Peggy thought things couldn’t get worse, along came a pissed off hawk, who had come to reclaim the unlucky reptile. Apparently, the mighty hawk had planned to have the snake over for dinner and wasn’t about to accept the snake’s regrets. 😉 The hawk swooped down and grabbed the snake, but it was wrapped so tightly around Peggy’s forearm that her arm was forced upward as the hawk tried to fly away with its uncooperative prey. Again and again the hawk unsuccessfully tried to take the serpent, beating its wings in Peggy’s face and obscuring her vision, as she tried not to fall off the tractor or get bitten by the snake.

Finally, after about four swoops, the hawk was able to recapture the snake. It flew off with its prize, leaving a stunned, shocked, and traumatized Peggy in its wake. She looked down at her arm and saw that the hawk had mangled it pretty well. Peggy’s forearm was covered in scratches, puncture wounds, bruises, and cuts, and it was bleeding profusely. She said the pain was incredibly intense, and she was still screaming and hollering when her husband finally became aware of what had happened.

Wendell hadn’t seen the joint snake and hawk attack, but he soon found his wife in complete hysterics. The two went to a hospital, where medical professionals cleaned and bandaged the wounds and gave Peggy a course of antibiotics. The story was so strange that, according to Wendell’s Facebook account of the attack, even the doctor wanted to know if Peggy was on some kind of hallucinogenic drug and had just imagined the whole thing. Fair warning. If you click the link, you will see a photo of Peggy’s torn up arm. It’s pretty gruesome looking.

According to the multiple accounts I’ve now read about this extraordinary incident, Peggy was sure this was how she was going to die… in what I think is an utterly absurd way. She screamed out to Jesus as she tried to survive the attack, not just by a potentially venomous snake, but also by a hungry and tenacious bird of prey with very sharp talons.

Peggy’s glasses were chipped from the snake’s repeated strikes, and they found a substance on them that might have been snake venom, although the stuff was never tested. Fortunately, the couple reported that Peggy never experienced any symptoms of a venomous snakebite that time, although according to the article in the New York Times, Peggy was also bitten by a different snake two years ago. I sure hope Peggy has good health insurance. This incident is probably going to cost a bundle in medical bills.

Naturally, Peggy’s trauma and suffering isn’t confined to just the physical pain of the injuries she received from the attack. She’s now having nightmares, and has said that they range from a re-enactment of the attack to seeing snakes all over the place in her dreams. Honestly, as someone who is a bit prone to having phobias, I can hardly blame her for being completely freaked out about this. How does a person even process such a strange situation, let alone recover from it? It’s like something out of the Bible. Or, maybe, a Desperate Housewives plot? It’s just insane! I think it would make me agoraphobic.

It just goes to show you that life can be incredibly weird. You never know when you’ll be faced by a completely crazy threat of some sort. Peggy was just trying to mow the grass when she got attacked by wild animals… and not even from the ground. Since when do snakes fly? We certainly wouldn’t expect to have one fall out of the sky, right? But apparently, Peggy says she’s seen hawks catching snakes all the time and dropping them on fences, only to come down and pick them up again. I guess it never occurred to her that she might serve as a “fence” to a snake with a strong will to live and a hungry and very determined hawk, who also wanted to live, and needed to eat…

Peggy and Wendell Jones have seen the hawk flying around their property and they think it lives nearby. Hopefully, it will keep a tighter grip on its prey, the next time it hankers for a hunk of snake meat. Or, at least we can hope that next time, there isn’t a human being there to break the snake’s fall.

I am very impressed by Peggy’s pluck, as instead of immediately finding a good guy with a gun to dispatch the hawk, she says “I consider myself to be the luckiest person alive… I was attacked by a snake and a hawk and I lived to tell about it.” She wasn’t just attacked by a snake and a hawk… but a snake and a hawk at the same time! That’s a story for her grandchildren to pass down… not to mention the doctors who treated her wounds. File it in the “now I’ve seen everything” category!

I’m sure if I sat here long enough and thought about it, I could come up with a life lesson or moral to attach to this situation. Something along the lines of, “you never know what will happen when you come between someone’s life and someone else’s dinner…” It seems almost oddly symbolic, too… given the crazy political situation in Texas right now, and how certain people in that state are preying on the weak and gentle to stay in power and keep being “fed” money and power.

This story makes me even more glad to be living outside of Texas… where there are literal venomous snakes, as well as political ones.

Well… that about does it for today’s fresh post. Got to talk to one of Bill’s colleagues, rescue the laundry, practice guitar, and walk the dog. Perhaps I’ll be back tomorrow… Perhaps you will be back, too.

Standard
animals, housekeeping tips, pests

All of the creepy crawlies in our midst today…

A little mood music…

Today is Bill’s birthday. I woke up at 5:30 AM, having had a very vivid dream involving Bill, an 80s era luxury hotel in Switzerland, and fighting with weird people. The one thing I remember about the hotel in my dream is that it was very pleasing to us and dog friendly, and it had cool features like tunnels you could slide through to get to the next room. Maybe I’ve been reading too much about mass market cruise lines.

Anyway, that’s not really the focus of today’s post. Today, I want to focus on something I learned yesterday. It involves learning how to kill the creepy crawlies that have taken up residence in our wine/rain barrel in the backyard.

You may be wondering how I got into this disgusting mess. Here’s the story of how we came to acquire the wine barrel.

When we first moved into this house, back in late 2018, there was an old barrel in the backyard that was being used for rain collection. Previous tenants had built sort of a makeshift/IKEA’esque shelter on the patio. I could tell they made it, because no German would have put up something with such half-assed, shoddy workmanship. It’s still standing today, but you can tell it’s sort of “jerry-rigged”. Anyway, the previous tenants went as far as to design a sort of drainage system on the shelter, which connected to a pipe that ran into the old barrel.

Well, over the past few years, the old barrel basically disintegrated. It got so that it wouldn’t hold any water, but then it just fell apart. I was sad about the eyesore, which is still in the backyard, but I also liked having a rain barrel, because it made watering my plants easier. We don’t have a spigot in the backyard; one exists in the garage, but we also don’t have a hose. And I just liked the idea and look of the old barrel, when it was still functioning.

Still, I resisted replacing the barrel for a couple of years. I was afraid of the logistics of getting it into the backyard, and everything else that goes with having rain barrels. Then, during the spring of ’23, I got the urge to spruce up the backyard a bit. We spend a lot of time out there during the warmer months. I bought a barrel and we put it where the old one had been rotting. Click here to get to a post about the barrel when it was new. There, you can see a picture of the two barrels side by side. The new one is a vast improvement.

Slowly, I filled up the new barrel, either with rain water, or water from our kitchen tap. It smelled of wine, but I didn’t mind. I like the smell of wine. Then, as the weather got warmer, I started noticing certain critters taking up residence in the water. I expected there would be mosquitoes, but I hadn’t considered there would be worms with long, stringy tails. I watched them grow, trying to oust the ones I could see. Then we went on vacation for over two weeks.

When we got home the other day, I was horrified to see that the rain barrel had come alive with disgusting pests! So, I immediately went off to Google to see what I could do about the problem. I then found out that the worms were actually red tailed maggots– larvae of the drone fly! Eeeew! But according to Wikipedia, they do have a practical purpose. They can be used as fish bait.

In any case, I determined that useful or not, I didn’t want these pests living in my rain barrel. So I purchased some pills that were designed to target and kill mosquitoes. The product is a type of bacillus that makes the water uninhabitable for mosquitoes. When we used it the other day, it did have a noticeable effect on the mosquitoes. Most of the mature ones disappeared. I also noticed that a big spider had helpfully set up a web in the shelter put up by the last tenants.

Good , environmentally friendly method for getting rid of mosquitoes and such…

But… even though we were seeing significant progress, it wasn’t working fast enough to get rid of the pests. It also didn’t seem to be killing off the disgusting maggots in the wine barrel–which, by the way, we also often see in our trash cans during the summer. So last night, I took action again. Enter Dawn dishwashing liquid!

I swear, that stuff is a wonder drug. It’s great for cleaning dishes, but it also does a great job of cleaning everything else, especially when it’s paired with hydrogen-peroxide or baking soda. And, if you have maggots in your wine/rain barrel, it’ll very quickly and effectively take care of those little fuckers, too. Another solution is vegetable oil, which, like Dawn, ruins the surface tension on the water and makes it inhospitable to waterborne pests. I don’t like the idea of using oil, though.

I squeezed about a tablespoon of straight blue Dawn into the water. Not only did it help make the water smell less rancid, but last night, it also put an end to quite a few maggot lives. This morning, I found a whole bunch of them floating on top of the water. I spent several minutes fishing them out. I do have a cover for the barrel and will start covering it up, and/or invest in a fly screen, to prevent this infestation from happening again. Or, at least prevent such a severe infestation. Sheesh!

I’ve also finally started to drain the water for use in the garden, as it was originally intended. This article informs me that I can also get some fragrant plants that mosquitoes find unbearable. We already have a basil plant, but we can easily get other varieties that will also serve a purpose of proving herbs for foods and drinks.

I know many people would find having to cope with these pests pretty unbearable. I grew up around horses, so I’m pretty used to dealing with pesky insects, rodents, snakes, and arachnids. And while I don’t generally enjoy killing things, I do get some joy out of killing mosquitoes and flies, since they spread disease and filth. Mosquitoes are pretty much the most dangerous creature known to man.

I just went downstairs to turn on the dishwasher and noticed a big black bird in the backyard. I’m sure it found a ready feast of the maggots back there.

Since I’ve been living in Germany, I’ve learned all kinds of practical, environmentally friendly solutions to pest control problems. We also have ants in our house, because there are parts of the kitchen that need to be regrouted. I learned that a good way to repel them safely is to sprinkle cinnamon near where they live. It isn’t a perfect solution, but it does cut down on the number of them invading the house, and I don’t have to worry about Noyzi coming into contact with poison. Pretty soon, they’ll disappear again, as the weather gets colder.

I’ve also learned a good way of getting rid of slugs. Put out a bowl of beer, and they’ll crawl in, get drunk, and drown. But I hate to waste good beer on slugs, even though there’s a whole lot of it in Germany.

This is just another life form we’ve found in the yard… to include mice, marders, hedgehogs, bumblebees, and a large variety of insects and arachnids. My biology teachers would be so proud. 😉

I just threw some more detergent into the barrel. I’m fixing to order a fish net for aquariums. That will make it easier to scoop up the dead maggots as they inevitably meet doom. Mwhahaahahahaaha…

Well, on that note, I’m going to write another post and get to work on making that birthday cake for Bill… after I’ve washed up, of course!

Standard
animals, family, nostalgia, YouTube

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming…

Mmm’kay… now that the drama of the past few days has passed, it’s time to get back to “work”. I know not everyone considers what I do “work”, but what do they know? Maybe I’m just one of those people whose true worth won’t be known until after I’m dead. 😉

It’s just after 9:00 AM, here in the land of Beer, Brats, and Broetchen. I’ve already gotten a few things done. I washed the sheets, cleaned Noyzi’s food and water bowls and refilled the water, did some more work on migrating and organizing my massive music collection to the newer computer, and paid a bill. And now I’m sitting here wondering if I want to upset my stomach by thinking about the news of the world.

I know I haven’t been writing as much about current events lately, but trust me, I’ve been watching what’s going on. I suppose it depresses me too much to comment on the epic political shitshow that is projected for 2024. I hate the idea of DeSantis or Trump in the White House. I’m not overly excited about another four years with Biden, either, mainly because he is so elderly and people say such awful things about him. I know it probably wouldn’t be any different with another candidate in power, but at least someone younger and more dynamic would seem more like a fair target. I have respect for Joe Biden. He truly inherited a circus when he entered the White House. It can’t be easy cleaning up Donald Trump’s messes… especially give his penchant for Big Macs and Whoppers.

I was never a fan of politics. Today’s political scene is especially heartbreaking to me, when I see idiots like Lauren Boebert holding court. I’m not proud of it, but whenever I hear her speak, I have a tendency to hurl insults at the TV. I respond to her much like I respond to hearing Trump speak. It’s safe to say that I despise her, and her ilk. But I didn’t used to be anti-conservative at all. In fact, for well over half my life, I identified as a Republican. Not anymore.

This morning, as Bill and I were having breakfast, we talked a bit more about what went down over the past few days. I wrote down my honest and candid thoughts in my blog, as if I were writing in a diary. I upset someone in my family, who in fairness, upset me first. It’s regrettable when people are negatively impacted by the things I do. However, I think I can glean some good stuff from my posts… and if I can, I’ll bet others can, too.

For instance, yesterday I wrote about the “Bless your heart” mentality so prevalent in the South, and how it leads to excessive bullshitting. Some years ago, I remember hearing an interesting metaphor about the different types of people one encounters in life. I don’t remember exactly where I heard this concept, but it’s stuck with me. And, forgive me, but I’ve also written about this previously. In the interest of full disclosure, here’s a link.

Some people are like “peaches”. They are soft, fleshy, fuzzy, and sweet on the outside. They look and smell delicious, and they attract everyone with their mainstream appeal. But, deep down, they have hearts of stone. I picture the stereotypical mean Queen Bee bitch who’s all “honey lippin'” sweetness and light to everyone to their faces, but then stabs them in the back. I think some southern people are kind of like this by nature– or by virtue of that whole “Bless your heart” mentality that we have down there. Be “nice”, no matter what… even if you’re being profoundly disingenuous.

Other people are more like coconuts. They have rough, tough, hard outer shells that are abrasive to the touch. They aren’t easy to crack, nor are they easy to enjoy, but beneath that rough exterior, there’s exotic sweetness that can be very refreshing. I picture the weird, grouchy, eccentric old lady on the corner who is a wonderful, sensitive artist or talented musician… or tells wonderful, vivid stories to enchanted children. The lady who collects homeless cats or dogs and lovingly cares for them as she screams at people to get off her lawn might be more of a “coconut”. I think of certain northern folks as coconuts– the people who are very gruff in the subway station as they help you validate your ticket.

And then there are people who are just plain nuts, like me… 😉 Crunchy, salty, and occasionally oily, maybe? I don’t know. Or maybe I’m more like a crab… or a lobster, like Leon, the lucky crustacean who was rescued from a grocery store by an enterprising YouTuber who makes educational videos about him.

The latest on Leon…

I like peaches, and I like coconuts and nuts in moderation… I’m not a fan of eating crabs, although it’s fun to catch them in rivers. It’s probably fun to catch them from certain sexual partners, too, but the aftermath isn’t much fun. I suppose I could say that I enjoy people who resemble those types, too. I have some friends who are like peaches, and a few who are like coconuts. Having a hard “stone pit like” heart doesn’t always mean someone is inherently evil. And being sweet and fluffy on the inside doesn’t always a person is easy to love, once you break the shell.

I’ve mentioned before that I grew up in Gloucester, Virginia, which is a small, conservative, southern town in Virginia. I didn’t like Gloucester when we first moved there. Even though I was born in Hampton, which isn’t that far away from there, moving to Gloucester in 1980 was a big culture shock to me. It took a long time for me to appreciate Gloucester. I don’t think I ever really liked it when I lived there, although I did eventually fit in better, and other kids finally stopped bullying me. Now that I’m an adult, I appreciate it a whole lot more. Not enough to move back there, mind you… but more than I did when I was a child. It is a beautiful place with really good people… many of whom are very religious and politically conservative, and like to catch and eat crabs.

Unlike my sisters, I had the experience of mostly growing up in one town. I lived in Gloucester from the age of eight until I went to college at age 18. Then I boomeranged there back a couple of times before I finally left for good at age 27. Like it or not, that place had a huge effect on me. Even today, there are still a lot of people there who know me. One of them left me a comment on my link to yesterday’s post. She and I have probably known each other since 1981 or so… Her mom and my dad used to sing duets in church. We are the same age, and graduated in the same class. She also went to Longwood for awhile, although she didn’t graduate from there.

My old friend had kind words for me yesterday, which I really appreciated. Another friend also had kind words, even though we have never met offline. I think both of those ladies, who are living in the South, might understand the whole “bless your heart” thing… where you are expected to be nice, even if it means being dishonest. The weird thing is, I was always proud of being southern… but now, I feel divorced from the culture.

In fact, I feel divorced from my family, too. It would be easy for me to blow off what happened the other day, with my cousin’s wife. But it’s not the first online altercation I’ve had with people in my family, and I’m feeling pretty estranged now… like, most of them are now strangers and don’t care about me. It makes me glad there’s an ocean between us… even though there are lots of times when I wish I could live in my own country. I don’t know when, or even if, we’re going to move back there. Situations like this make staying abroad more appealing. I don’t want to fly eight hours on a plane to go home to people who are shitty to me because of petty Facebook dramas. But, like I wrote yesterday, most of them don’t understand me anyway… and seem unwilling to try. The bright side is, I don’t feel guilty when I plan lavish Nordic vacations instead of not having gone home to see my mom for the past 8 years. Actually, I wouldn’t mind seeing my mom. She’s got common sense, and a sense of humor.

A couple of years ago, Bill and I met a German woman at a Christmas market. It turned out she had lived in the United States for some time, working for Seagrams in Tennessee. We traded a couple of stories about our experiences living in different countries from our origins. She looked at us with empathy and said, “The United States will never be the same for you again. You have now become Europeanized.”

She’s right. I don’t see the USA the way I did when I was younger. I don’t see “home” in the same way, either. Germany’s not quite “home”, but it’s been where I’ve lived for over half my marriage. I don’t even speak the language, but it’s become a familiar and comfortable place to me… and in many ways, it’s more welcoming than home is. At least here, no one knows that much about me, or where I came from. And no one cares that much, either, except they usually do want to know what state we’re from. Germans, by and large, seem to love Florida… but I’m sure it’s strictly because of the beaches and beautiful (hot and sunny) weather. If they had to live there under Ron DeSantis and religious wackos, I suspect a lot of them would hate the place.

Well, it’s now getting close to 11:30 AM. My work on this post has been interrupted a few times by music migration breaks. I think I’ll end this entry and get on with the other activities of the day. Noyzi needs a walk, and my guitar is calling me for a quick practice session. Hopefully, I won’t alienate anyone with today’s musings… but if I do alienate anyone, I suspect they’ll just shitcan me without a second thought, too. Oh well.

Standard
animals, complaints, condescending twatbags, rants, sexism, social media

Some people should always wear a bra… over their MOUTHS!

The featured photo represents the judgmental attitude some people have about an obvious lack of undergarments on women… but, to be clear, it’s not MY attitude.

Once again, I’m amazed by the things people feel emboldened to comment about, especially to perfect strangers on social media. The vast majority of people who make shockingly rude or offensive remarks would never have the nerve to say those things to people’s faces. But online, they feel quite free to sound off, sometimes over things that are really none of their business. Like whether or not to wear certain undergarments, or how to take care of a beloved animal family member.

I follow a Facebook page run by a lady who has a mini horse as a service animal, rather than a dog. I don’t know this person at all, but I like to follow her page, because I think it’s cool that she has a service horse instead of a service dog. It makes good sense to have a horse as a service animal. They usually live longer than dogs do, and they’re bigger and sturdier, which can be very helpful for those who need help standing up. However, a lot of people don’t realize that mini horses can make excellent service animals. I think it’s great that she so generously shares photos and videos that educate people about having a service mini horse.

Some people have been following the story of “Flirty” the miniature service horse for a long time. They know the lady’s story well, and have watched her progress with her mini horse. Other people simply like to chime in, even though their comments are ignorant and offensive. Such was the case this morning, when I read about how Flirty’s mom had a new outdoor paddock built with a privacy fence. This is not an enclosure where the horse spends all of her free time. It’s just a small yard for her to go outside, eat some grass or hay, and maybe play with some toys.

Flirty’s mom was obviously excited to show off the new paddock for her mini horse. Yes, it’s small, but she’s a mini horse, and there’s plenty of room for her to move around. It’s bigger than the stalls where a lot of full sized horses stay. And she doesn’t spend all day in the paddock. It’s just another place for her to hang out with less supervision.

Several people were commenting on how inappropriate the paddock was, as it’s enclosed with a tall privacy fence. More than a couple of people wrote that she should have had windows put into the privacy fence so Flirty could look out. Flirty’s owner explained that she didn’t want windows because she didn’t want people or other animals messing with her horse, trying to feed her things she shouldn’t eat, like grass clippings.

Horses should NOT eat grass clippings, because they can cause serious health issues that can make them very sick or even lead to death. A lot of people don’t realize that if a horse gets a bad stomach ache (colic), they can die. Grass clippings can conceal poisonous plants that horses shouldn’t eat, because the cut grass mixes with other plants and covers their taste. Mowed grass clippings also ferment, which causes them to put out gas. A horse that eats the clippings can soon end up with gas that they can’t get rid of. Horses can’t vomit or burp, so built up gas in the gut can be deadly for them. It can lead to bloat, laminitis (founder), colic, or even botulism.

Flirty’s owner also wrote that there are dogs in the neighborhood who run loose and are capable of jumping lower fences. She doesn’t want them messing with Flirty and possibly hurting her.

The comments about the fencing were annoying enough, but what prompted me to write today’s post are other offensive comments made. Flirty’s owner showed herself in her video. She was wearing a t-shirt, but was obviously not wearing a bra. I counted at least three comments from women demanding that she put on a bra. See below:

Holy no bra…

put a bra on wow

Wear a bra please.

I was glad to see Flirty’s “mom” tell these women to mind their own business. Contrary to what they might have heard, bras aren’t something women are required to wear. A lot of us women wear them because they help support our boobs and maybe make them look nicer in clothes. But plenty of us, myself included, don’t like wearing bras all day. They can be uncomfortable. I remember my mom had grooves in her shoulders from wearing bras. I don’t have them, because I only wear bras when I’m going out somewhere. But honestly, if I (or any other woman) didn’t want to wear them at all, that should be my choice and my business. I would tell anyone who complains to quit staring at my boobs.

Besides the comments about Flirty’s “mom’s” lack of a bra, other people were claiming that the new enclosure was “cruel”. One person even had the audacity to write this comment:

Do her a favor and let someone who can properly care for her adopt her. I think you’ve done your best to do what you can but you don’t have the proper set up for her to have a happy life for a horse and this is really sad.

Really? I just don’t know where people get their nerve. This person is a complete stranger and only knows what she’s seen in the posts on Flirty’s page about what her actual “set up” is. To me, Flirty appears to be happy, healthy, and much beloved. And obviously, Flirty provides valuable services to her owner, who is kind enough to share information and educate the public about service horses. It would be one thing if Flirty appeared to be in poor health. But she looks very well taken care of to me, and I spent many years with horses in my life. No, I’m not a horse expert, but I do know what a healthy horse looks like. Flirty is adorable, and she’s obviously doing fine.

I have to say, Flirty’s “mom” was a lot nicer to that rude commenter than I would have been, if she’d made a comment like that to me. It would be Taylor Swift time for sure. 😉 This was Flirty’s mom’s response:

You realize that the accepted stall size for a mini horse is 6×8, right? And some minis don’t get turnout from that? Go bug those people, if you need to complain about horse welfare. 

She will get daily supervised turnout time in the larger yard. She will have toys to play with in this paddock. She is not unhappy.

I tend to get very annoyed with people who make uninformed comments about horses and their welfare, because a lot of them either don’t know what they’re talking about, or feel like their comments will be effective. A person who is truly abusive isn’t going to care about their input. A person who loves their animals, as much as Flirty’s mom obviously does, is just going to be offended. I highly doubt that Flirty’s mom has plans to do as the commenter suggested and let someone else adopt her service animal. That’s just a ridiculous thing to write or say, and it’s simply not gonna happen.

Janis Ian shared this in July 2020 and the annoying comments surged forth…

On another note, I searched Facebook for more comments about people who don’t wear bras. The first result that came up with Janis Ian’s page, and a two year old post about how face masks are the “new bras”. There were over one hundred boot licking posts from followers about how wonderful face masks are, and how they are a necessary evil, like bras are. Thank GOD that didn’t turn out to be true on a permanent basis. Hooray for science, and effective vaccines, because even if the masks were helpful at the beginning of the pandemic, I don’t want to wear them for the rest of my life. But I probably shouldn’t read too many of those comments, either, because they’re also pretty triggering, and God knows I’ve vented plenty about masks!

Well… I guess I’ve yammered on long enough about this. I think I’ll end this post and dive into my new book. Have a good weekend y’all. I plan to spend mine braless for as long as possible. 😉

Standard