Red, White, and Blue -- EVERY DAMN DAY

I have a few new "followers", people who like to stalk my blog trying to find something really cynical and/or incriminating about me. Oh, it's not so bad now, is it? I'm not the bad guy am I? Nope, what I am is a true blue American Patriot, who just doesn't happen to take crap from anyone. I'm not racist, I'm not prejudice, I'm not going to discriminate either; if you're unloading on me, you're going to hear about it. I should probably have the "Don't Tread on Me" emblem tattooed on my forearm so that when the idiots try it, I can give them the ol' back of the arm treatment with my clinched fist held high in the air! Maybe do a little salute, and start quoting the Pledge of Allegiance!  (Too much? LOL) You can't see me, but I'm laughing just a little, my mom didn't raise a pansy, no way.  My mom raised a tomboy who learned the art of staring a man down by practicing with snakes. My own snakes. Maybe you don't realize it, but snakes don't have eye lids, they don't blink. I don't either.

One of the best things about being the daughter of an American hero is that when I grew up and had a son of my own, having named him after my father, I watched my son grow into the fantastic military man that he is today. I gave birth to my victorious protector after being able to be his for the first 18 years of his life. He's paid it back in spades. Protected, loved, honored, given to bragging just a little bit, this Patriot is never going to let anyone put a mark on me without that person being worn the worse for trying.  I may lose a job, I may not be accepted into the club, or allowed to hang with the cool kids for what I say and what I believe, but you'll sure as hell know where you stand with me. You'll never have to worry about it, I'll flat out let you know. Just ask. If you dare. Besides, I have a few good attorneys who feel the same way I do about the way people treat other people.

Now, having said that, welcome to my blog. I hope you find it to be both entertaining and enlightening. You'll find out more about me, and you'll either respect me or you won't. You have to understand, I don't give a damn what you think. I'm the only me I could ever be, and I've been me for far too long to be anyone else. My kids love me. My mom loves me. My daddy loves me, and watches over me from his place in Heaven.  My dog loves me, and if nothing else ever happens to me in this life, I've been loved by more dogs than most people have ever known. I am born again, a child of the Living God, and having been born in the GREAT STATE of OKLAHOMA, I am Sooner born and Sooner bred, when I die, I'll be Sooner dead.  There's not a lot anyone can do to upset me, but there are things they can do to piss me off.  Getting back to my upbringing for a second, my mom taught me that if I couldn't say something nice about someone I wasn't to say anything at all. Well, sorry Mom, Daddy taught me to say what I am going to say, and leave it at that. My yes is my yes, and my no is my no.

If you're my friend you'll be my friend for the rest of my life. I will defend you, and everything you do. If you screw up I'll let you know, but I will never throw you under the bus.  If you've chosen another path, and you don't want to be my friend, I won't stop you. I am who I am, and I'm damn good at it. You'd be lucky to call yourself my friend.  It's a very selective group of people to be a part of.   I hope you have yourself a good day now, and I hope you understand that when you step on me I bite back.  What's that Toby Keith says? "We'll put a boot up your ass, it's the American way"...that about covers it.   Army strong!

Ava, My Sweet Horse.

About six weeks ago, in August, 2018, I was asked by my daughter Laura to look at a few horses she was following online at the Stroud Kill Lot on Facebook. We live in Oklahoma, and Stroud is a smaller city just about an hour East of Oklahoma City off the turnpike.  At the kill lot, there are good horses, some very good, just sitting around waiting to be sent off to slaughter.  The owners of the kill lot realize that some people would rather work and ride these horses, and they can actually sell them for more money, or about the same as they would pick up from the meat buyers who only buy the animals to slaughter so they can produce dog food, cat food, and other by-products. It's a terrible, horrific story, but it is a reality not only in our state but in most.

Laura had me looking at the horses for another reason, other than just to show me how pretty they were, or how healthy some were. There are some that are being sold that have fundraisers going on, where outsiders online will donate funds toward the "bail" of a horse, and then if the kill lot receives a "home" offer from someone who is willing to pay a full half of the needed bail, the fundraiser's money goes in with the home offer, and the horse(s) finds itself home, safe and sound.  This was the reason Laura asked me to look at one horse in particular. Her name was Mora she was a Missouri Foxtrotter, about 9 years old, dun in color, and she had a baby on her side. She wasn't just any ol' baby, the baby was a mule! She had a little Jenny Filly on her side, that the fundraisers were calling Molly. They were such an attractive pair, both gaiting in step while a young boy rode the mother mare hap-hazard around the muddy arena online.

"She's only $410 mom, she's gaited, a good age, and look, you'd get a little baby mule with her!"   A little baby mule? Hardly.  The mule was about ten months old and darn near as tall as her mother, who was just under 15 hands. Laura was right about one thing, with this horse having a fundraiser going for her all I would need to pay for the pair was half the bail, which at $410 is a steal for a broke to ride gaited Missouri Foxtrotter, not to mention a gaited filly mule I could sell for twice that amount even before she was trained to ride or drive.  I said OK, it's a deal, and I made a call.  It was agreed that I would become the home offer for Molly and Mora.  The following day I paid the remainder of the bail, and there you have it, I owned a new horse and a mule baby! LOL...that was easy. PayPal is a wonderful thing.

As you can imagine, most animals coming out of kill lots are not all that healthy, and not all of them are broke. This pair was exceptional, and I knew there would be hurdles to jump for sure.  First thing, I needed to convince my friend Angie to pick the pair up with her rig and truck, and to keep them at her place for at least a month while they sat separated from other horses. Horses from kill lots can bring sickness to new barns; something like strangles or EPM could go through a barn-like wildfire and harm any and every equine in the place. It could be expensive, time-consuming, and even deadly. Angie has a place between Stroud and Oklahoma City, a 260-acre farm where she keeps and rehabs several equines for the Remington Park horse track. She has her personal animals on the farm as well. Keeping my new girls separated wasn't a difficult task, but it did take a bit of planning and work on Angie's part, for which I am very thankful.

The conversation went something like this:  "Hey, Angie, do you want a mule baby?"  At first, all I heard on the other end of the phone was silence, then a resounding "YES!! What do you have in mind? When?"  That was easy!  "OK, so I bought a pair of kill lot specialties today, a mother mare, a Foxtrotter, and her baby mule filly. You can have the filly if you pick them both up and let me keep my mare at your place for a month or so."  I waited for a response...it came rather fast. "OK! YES! WHEN!"  I told her anytime, I just paid for them to be bailed....maybe in a day? Would that work, I asked.  It worked, and she was off to the kill pen the very next morning with bells on!!

I had already decided I wasn't and couldn't name the horse Mora, it didn't suit her. I liked the name Ava, and Angie liked the name Georgia for her new little (big) mule baby. When they arrived both were skinnier than they had appeared online, it had been an older video I think. They were certainly underweight and sad from stress and sickness.  It's taken Angie and I (and my daughter Laura) a good month now to get them fatter, dewormed, clear from a bout of strangles, which can be described as snotty nose, throat, and eye discharging, leading to lesions that open up on the throat and under the neck to drain. It's disgusting and can be deadly if not cared for immediately. Georgia had it the worse, being a baby, but my sweet Ava was affected as well.

From the very first moment she arrived at the farm I knew she would be an amazing friend. She had no issues with me loving and rubbing all over her. She enjoyed being handled, loved, and groomed. I was even able to spray her with water, lessen her fever a bit, and help her with her healing through prayer and singing to her. When a horse has strangles you can't give them antibiotics, it could kill them. The disease is an odd one for sure.  Angie was taxed with daily feeding, watering, giving of herbs, prayers, and love. Georgia took to Angie like no other. It's obvious these two love us both, and we're tickled pink to be their moms. 

In about another month I'll take Ava from Georgia, and move her to a barn much closer to my house, but we'll ride often as we can together after Georgia is trained in a year or so; it won't be that hard to wait. By that time Georgia will probably be 15.2 or taller and outweigh her mother by 200 pounds. 
As the weeks go by I'll keep you posted on all of the good news about them. They are truly gifts from God, and we couldn't feel more blessed.