The Big K

Today was a big day in the B house. Kindergarten registration.

As we walked through the halls of the school I attended as a wee-one, my heart climbed right up to my throat. The school has been totally remodeled- all except for the library, which is ironically where we had to register. So many memories flooded my brain as we entered the room that seemed so enormous when I was a student there. Little Miss was too excited to notice what I was doing. She soaked in the paintings on the wall, the teachers outfits, the books....oh, the books! Little Miss loves to read- and I'm not trying to brag but...okay, I am. She can read- like for reals read, ya'll. So she was pretty fascinated by the walls of books that surrounded us.

I filled out the paperwork (that apparently I could've done before we got there, whoops) and one of the kindergarten teachers asked Little Miss a few questions. Colors, shapes, letters, numbers- the normal stuff. Then the teacher asked her to turn the paper over and draw a picture or maybe write her name- whatever she was comfortable doing. Little Miss broke out all the crayons and homegirl drew a masterpiece. The teacher chuckled. When she was finished, she asked me how to spell the teacher's name. The teacher looked at me puzzled like, "She can't spell her own name? Really, you just said the kid can read?!" She peeped over the table to find "To: Mrs. ____ From: Riya" already written.

"She's so ready. She'll do wonderful- you don't have to worry about a thing."

Should I have warned the teachers that Little Miss thinks she'll be teaching kindergarten with them? Nah, we'll save that for the first day.

Tough Topic

This post will not give you the warm fuzzies. In fact, it may make you sick to your stomach.

Two words to test you to see if you can handle reading forward- horse slaughter. 

In 2007, the last active horse slaughterhouse in the US was shut down. Today, horses are transported to Canada and Mexico, crammed inside low-ceilinged trucks with no food or even a sip of water- to be slaughtered. Late last year, Congress restored funding for U.S. inspectors to oversee horse slaughter, making it legal once again for horses to be slaughtered in the U.S. Many "horse people" are all for this, shockingly, stating that 'at least the US can regulate the slaughter' and go on about how many unwanted horses there are.

When I was 10 years old, my family and I adopted a horse named Brandy. He had been abused in every way possible. He was hundreds of pounds underweight and terrified of almost everything and everyone. Everything was an enemy to him. Prior to meeting us, he'd been rescued by another horse-lover who knew he would never survive. Brandy changed my life.

Last year, my life was changed yet again. I walked into a horse barn full of gorgeous horses and saw one tall, sad boy with a blanket on. He was the one I'd driven hours to see. He was walked out into the aisle way- and when his blanket came off, my heart sunk. I could count every rib and place my head into his hip. He was terribly skinny- terribly helpless...I knew he had to come home with me. A little over a year later, he's "as healthy as a horse." Where would he be if there was a horse slaughterhouse nearby? I never would've found him. 

Let me ask you this- where do you draw the line? If horse slaughter is legal, when are the lines for the horses that are abused at their homes? The horses who are abused long before they reach the slaughter? Will these owners be fined or paid for turning in their horses for slaughter? How many people even know what slaughter really entails?! Do you? If you don't and you are squeamish, I encourage you to skip this part. I'm not squeamish at all- and when I say at all...I mean nothing makes me sick. Researching horse slaughter this last day or so- watching the videos, reading the articles, seeing the photos...even I couldn't handle it.

The following video cannot be embedded due to it's content. Click here link to find out the real deal on horse slaughter. (This video is from a slaughterhouse in Mexico.)

These horses are repeatedly bludgeoned with a "dead-bolt" gun- this gun drives a spike into their skull, rendering some, not all unconscious. (Keep in mind, the operators of the guns are not trained.) Many horses are strung up by their hind leg while squealing for their lives- just before their throats are slit and they're left to bleed to death. They're then dismembered and their meat is sent off for human consumption in foreign countries such as France and Japan.

I recently read that the North Carolina Horse Council supports horse slaughter. At this point, I wasn't surprised- as many horse people have argued the "pros" of horse slaughter with me recently. I've argued my point over on the NCHC Facebook page- mostly to have irrelevant questions tossed my way.


One said:
"How would you like YOUR horse to die if it had a broken leg right now? Poison it with lethal injection solution so that the meat is unusable and put it in a hole to rot?"
Like I said, mostly irrelevant. However, if my horse had a broken leg, I would call a vet. I wouldn't transport him to a slaughterhouse. Furthermore- my horses are my family. Not to sound like the crazy horse lady, but they are! Yes, I would poison my horse to guarantee he would be out of pain, kiss him goodbye and bury him in his pasture. I would not eat him, Hannibal Lecter.


Another said:
"PETA even supports it! It's in Horse & Rider!"
Is it? Interesting. Every article I've read regarding PETA and horse slaughter states they are against horse slaughter. However, they did state (supposedly, this wasn't a quote from their website) that they would be in more support of horse slaughter in the US, than transporting horses to Canada and Mexico. I can see how a journalist could chop that quote right up to fit a "Pro-Slaughter" article. (Remember, I majored it journalism...I'm part scumbag!)


Another said:
"This will stop overcrowding! Maybe it will slow down backyard breeding!"
Someone needs to smack the shit out of you. 


This issue clearly bothers me. It hits me where it really hurts. I'm a tenderhearted animal lover- but for reals, ya'll- I will turn into a raging, lunatic, psycho bitch over this. Please sign the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act of 2011  and encourage your friends, family and neighbors to do the same.

A Different Coffee Date

A few weeks after she passed away, I felt butterfly kisses on my cheek in the middle of the night. I knew it was her, my Mama Jennie. She was the most special person in my childhood...and I was the apple of her eye. We meant the world to each other.

I was in 5th grade and the only real death I'd experienced was when my horse passed away the year before. This was different though- as sad as I was, I knew Mama Jennie was her "old self" again up in heaven. I cried because I missed her, selfishly...but even at that young age, I knew she was happier looking down on us everyday, than she was in a nursing home, seeing us weekly. We joked that all her husbands were fighting over her when she arrived.

The butterfly kisses came nightly for a while- I told my mom that I knew it was her. They say children let spirits in easier than adults- who knows why, but I always believed it...and tried to keep my mind open so she'd always visit. 

This morning while making my coffee, I couldn't figure out where the smell of Oil of Olay, Oatmeal and chewing tobacco ("snuff") was coming from. The oddest combination of sweet smells, but where were they coming from? I smelled it everywhere I went. Then it hit me...Mama Jennie. I cried because I was so happy that I'd not been too busy to realize it was her. I cried because I was happy she wanted to come and check on me this morning...when I felt so terribly lonely. I cried because I missed smelling her, hugging her and being held by her. 

Then, I thanked her, dried my tears and smiled for the time we had together.

Kitty OD

I'm taking a break from editing to share a little story with you all...brighten your day a bit, make you laugh, gross you out, etc. (If you're not an animal person or are squeamish- you may want to skip this post.)

So yesterday morning, in the wee-way-to-early hours of 3am- I was  abruptly awoken when I rolled into a wet spot. (I can almost guarantee the 'wet spot' you're thinking is definitely not the one I'm referring to.) Sweet Pea was snuggled up next to me...and was soaking wet- all in the hind end area. I immediately thought it was his anal glands- but it had absolutely no scent and those of you who've ever smelled anal glands know there is definitely a scent. I put a towel under him & went back to sleep- he wasn't in pain or acting oddly so, I figured it'd probably go away on it's own. Whatever it was.

But it didn't. When I got up, it seemed worse. The uhmm, fluid, seemed like it was literally jogging right out of his butt. I still assumed it was the glands...so off to the vet we went.

A trip to the vet's office is never cheap. There are always a few things you didn't know you needed that you're told your cat will die without. (And Sweet Pea is Little Miss's cat..so you know I had no choice but to get him all better, immediately.) The doctor decides that what I was actually seeing was diarrhea, not anal gland 'juice' (gag) and it's caused from a bacterial infection. He got several shots and we were sent home with antibiotics and a sad heart. (I had the sad heart from the bill, in case you're wondering.)

Shortly after walking in the door, I notice Little Miss's chocolate milk cup from the night before sitting on the floor...empty. (Sweat Pea has been known to drink out of cups, then knock them over when he's finished.) Would chocolate milk cause a cat to have diarrhea like that??? Well, chocolate milk with an adult dose of Miralax mixed in it will. Ouch.

I looked over at Sweet Pea, as if to ask, seriously, dude? You drank that? And I was greeted by a what the hell are you putting in your child's food!?!?! THAT WAS AWFUL! kind of look. Poor guy, he almost-literally shit his brains out.

I think he learned his lesson. 

Bubble-Bath-Taking Elephant

I haven't taken a bubble bath in forever. Let's face it, what mom actually has time for a bath? A bath takes entirely too much time. I hardly have time for a 5 minute, all-business shower.

I'm also a paranoid, freak...I believe we've covered that, right? Right. I can't take showers when no one else is here- they're too loud I can't hear what's going on in the house. (Yep, with 3 dobermans and a chihuhua- the shower is what's loud.) Why do I even need to hear every creek or crack our house makes while I'm in the shower when I have 3 dobermans and a chihuahua? Because if you came into our house with a vaccum cleaner- the dobermans would throw their paws up, point you to the jewelry and beg you not to switch that satanic-monster on. Vi-cious. So tonight, I decided I'd take a bubble bath- complete with lavandar candles. It was the most relaxing 20 minutes I've had in weeks. Ah-mazing

Naturally, while relaxing my mind raised through some not-so-relaxing topics. I thought about my mother. She's gone through so much health stuff this year. The surgery she had back in January kind of...didn't work, in a round-about way. She will have to have a hysterectomy in a few weeks. She has a specialist who I'm more than confident in- but this is my mom we're talking about, I'm not confident enough in anyone to perform surgery on my mom. Ontop of that, Mom broke her ankle right after the hurricane & has pretty much been on bed rest since. (She's the absolute worst patient in the world b/c she's so considerate of others. She doesn't want to ask for help or have anyone do anything for her. I've caught her doing laundry and trying to figure out how to hop and drink coffee at the same time.) I am so thankful for my mom and for everything she does for our family. She doesn't stop with just our family- she treats everyone she comes in contact with like they're hers. She worries about them, she prays for them, she helps them in any way she can. It's been wonderful to see those people she's tended to, worried about, prayed for, etc, come by to return the favor. Her cast is full of signatures from family, co-workers and friends. (Oh, and I drew some leopard on her cast. A girl can never have too much leopard.) My thankfulness turned to anger when I thought about those who haven't even picked-up-the-phone to say hello. Whether it's a co-worker who's gone from seeing her everyday to not seeing her at all, or friends from way back that my mom would drop everything for, no matter how many years had gone by...the phonecalls and visits that didn't/haven't happened seemed to be screaming at me. I know I shouldn't focus on that- and if it was me, I probably wouldn't. I tend to be more protective over my loved ones than I am over myself.

I gave up on my relaxing bubble bath- but my mind wouldn't stop spinning.

The irony is- my mom would never bring up any of the negative. It's not her style. She won't bring up who didn't call or come by- and when she's healed, she won't hold it against them. I understand that everyone has a life to live, and many don't have much spare time...but you have to learn how to make time for those who make time for you. My mother will stay up way too late to accomplish her obligations, after she's spent all afternoon helping someone else accomplish theirs. It's just how she is- she is the most giving person I know.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those of you who've called or visited my mom. It means as much to me as it does to her. And to those of you who haven't...think of me as the bubble-bath-taking elephant in the family- I never forget. ;-)