Sunny’s Side of Life

Splendor in the grass.

Have you seen Sunny Bear the Wonder Horse?

NO? Well you should because she is all that and a bag of apples.

Sunny is my largest beast and this week is her birthday. Her 19th in fact, which is 76 in horse years. What is a horse year? Not sure, but it’s somewhere between dog and tortoise years.  Sunny is considered middle-aged but she’s still in her prime (and by prime I mean clocking 18 hours of sleep a day and hasn’t put in a good day’s work since 2005).

Our Miss May 2014 is a natural blonde, 16 hands tall (that is 64 inches in horse speak), weighs a whopping 1500 lbs and can bench press your fancy thoroughbred with ease. She is a draft mix made up of 50% Percheron and 50% Haflinger and ALL bombshell!

She enjoys, grazing on fresh grass after a spring rain and long naps between 10 am and Noon because breakfast is exhausting!

Likes:

• Apple with the cores cut out. We don’t do cores.

• Scritching (not to be confused with scratching, there IS a difference) on her face. If you just hold up your hand/brush she will actually do all the work for you.

• 

  You wanna make out?

• Her lesbian lover Rhea with whom she shares a sprawling 8 acre pasture and 2-horse barn.

Oh I’m sorry is our relationship threatening your horses’ marriage?

• Naps in the sun.

• Rolling in a pile of manure immediately after a good grooming.

• 

  Look mom, I’m rolling in my own poop!

• Don the guy in the white truck that brings her an over-abundance of delicious hay.

• Sneezing on freshly laundered clothing.

Dislikes:
Exercise- why shovel in all those calories just to waste them on running around?
Wind-It musses up her luxurious long blonde locks.
Gray Horses- just ask the Arabian she almost decapitated for merely looking in her direction.
Flies – because honestly, who doesn’t hate flies?
People who call her fat- she prefers “curvy”.
Medicine, even if hidden deep in a spoonful of sugar coated with more sugar.

Hey Mom, this apple flavored de-wormer tastes like apple flavored feet wrapped in a moldy beach towel.

Sunny may very well be the most documented horse in all of Colorado with an international following. * She is a big hit with horse lovers in Scandinavia, which makes sense…because blondes! She has over 260 friends on Facebook and even her very own stalker who has been blocked for conduct unbecoming of a grown-ass man.

Horse Selfie #nomakeup

Sunny is my original muse, she came before my dogs, and even before my husband. She is my therapist and best friend till the end who never shooshes me when I sing when out on a ride (she prefers Alt rock and 90’s pop hits).  I have loved horses since my dad put me on my first one at 3 years old. I dreamed of having a gorgeous flaxen-maned horse growing up and in 2001 I got the horse of my dreams.

Some say we even look alike…nope I don’t see it.

Happy Birthday Sunny Bear…now go out and get a job already.

Everyday is Sunday in Sunny’s world.

 

*You can like her page on Facebook @Sunny Bear the Wonder horse, or on Instagram @ trishkthedish for more shameless pictures of her eating grass and napping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If You Give A Mouse An Office…He Probably Will Ask For A Raise

Be sure to delete all your cookies or I just might eat them.

I am an animal magnet but not to be confused with a hoarder. I have two dogs, and a Horse and I find that to be more than enough legs for one woman to manage. Sunny Bear the Wonder Horse is my best friend and my dogs Bodhe and Tahoe are my babies. I have the biggest heart for all animals, well almost. All except snakes, because let’s be honest here, snakes are basically the Ass Holes of the animal kingdom.

But let’s not get it twisted here; I like animals in their proper place and not in places where you least expect to see them. Case in point, my office. This week a small tiny gray mouse has decided he is going all Cinderella on me and move in on my job like that Junior executive who is fresh out of college and wears argyle sweater vests and will work for pennies on the dollar. With no resume or even an interview, and armed only with his sneaky maneuvers, he just waltzes in like he owns the joint. I’m all for welcoming the office newbie, but not one who sneaks up under my chair to implement his hostile take-over.

It started on a Monday when I was at my desk minding my business (and by business I mean creating a new Internet radio station of my favorite Alt rockers called “The Indie-Ans In My Cupboard ”) when I thought I saw something kind of flutter across the floor of my office like a feather or maybe anything other than an uh, I don’t know…an RODENT! My immediate response was to not so much scream, but more of a chirp, like a really loud bird-like sound that only a very large macaw in a pair of navy chinos and sensible flats would make.

I jumped to my feet as he ran back into the office bathroom and disappeared under the heater thing that puts out hot air that smells like burnt dust bunnies. Oh goo! I’ve scared him back into his middle earth mice lair and he will never come back.  Such a relief. Because at this point I’m pretty sure this is just a big misunderstanding and he just took a wrong turn and was totally embarrassed that he ended up in our totally non-mouse friendly place of business. Not unlike that time In Vegas when I ran into the men’s restroom in the MGM Grand. No harm, no foul, let’s all just move on okay?

Before I can even exhale,  five minutes later, armed only with his arrogance and a flair for the dramatic he was back! And this time he wanted blood. In what I can only assume was an attempt to tie my shoe laces together or even possibly murder me, (in broad daylight mind you!) he crept  all the way to my chair.

Right. Next. To. My. Chair.

As I shifted my seat, I startled him and there I saw and HEARD him run from directly beside me back out my office door. Gone. Pitter-patter-PEW! I proceeded to actually levitate and let out a cry that is still echoing in the northern Colorado foothills today, I lost all ability to function as a dutiful employee and was now a hysterical Loony Tunes character from the 50’s.

Racing to the hallway to see where this brazen beast had gone, there was nothing but a trail of wind where he had tore ass out of site, leaving nothing but my sheer panic in his dust. Speedy Gonzales is now retreated into the shadows and the darkest places in my brain. Lurking…waiting…planning his attack. The remainder of the day was spent stomping my feet loudly everywhere I walked to be sure to warn him I was coming and to dare not jump me. I figured if I kept moving it would throw him off his game. (and Yes I decided the gender of the mouse because even though I am terrified of him I can’t with my bleeding heart call him “it”)… and if he is anything like that spider that once had crawled on me in bed as a kid, I’m convinced he will be waiting for me until I have “proof of death”, his or mine (whomever’s comes first).

I needed a plan for the rest of the work week. Not sure if that plan consists of a Haz-Mat crew, A Swat Deployment, or hiring mercenary cats for a seek and destroy mission? There was no way I was going to be able to work knowing that little demon is lying in wait for me as I tried to be a productive employee. Nor was I looking forward to encountering a bloodied carcass on my way to refill my water bottle.  Obviously we would put out a peanut butter trap for him, how can that not work? It would TOTALLY work on me. You put peanut butter on just about anything and you will have me crawling naked through a storm drain to get to it, so how would a mouse be any different? Is that too barbaric? Is PETA going to shame me for this? Then how about a broom and just gently sweep him out the door?  Or get a butterfly net and catch him? Oh man, I am soooo not getting any sleep this week.

At approximately 4:57 am Tuesday morning, after a night of tossing and turning and contemplating my imminent death by a rodent the size of my thumb, I came up with a solution. I will bring my own protection to the office, not in the form of traps or poison, but fear. Good old fashioned I’m-scarier-than-you Fear! If I can make the enemy afraid to pass into my realm, then I can defeat him without bloodshed. All I need is to plant the fear of death into his tiny head so he can turn skinny tail and never dare return.

So I decided to bring my trusty brute squad to work with me and so far she is protecting me with her fierce fighting stance and ability to scare even the most ferocious of beasts with her big brown eyes and soft pink belly. Luckily one look at her sleeping belly up at my feet will surely terrify this menace and send him back to Mouse Town with a cautionary tale of the white wolf in suite A-202. *

Meet Tahoe the Terrible. Mice better recognize.

*Mouse wars update- it has been two weeks and still no sight of the mouse. However, we did hear that he is now in our neighbor’s office next door. They also are now bringing their dog to work.

May the fourth be with you

This is one of my favorite fake holidays of the year. It’s better than Administrative Professionals Day but not as cool as Senior Ditch Day. I was hardly 8 years old when my mom took me to see Episode IV: A New Hope in the theatre. I remember young Luke Skywalker on that screen with his hair blowing in the Tatooine desert wind and had me at “I want to be a Jedi like my father!”

Unlike Mark Hamel’s good looks, my love for the saga never died. I’m not so much an attend Comi-con in a gold bikini fan, but more of a watch a Sunday marathon on spike for the 20th year in a row. I can recite all three movies by heart. My husband isn’t nearly as impressed with this as I would have hoped. He definitely married me for reasons other than my obnoxious ability to quote endless amounts of 80’s movie dialogue.

I don’t have collectibles (because that might turn into hoarding) or attend sci-fi conventions. But if I had a dollar for every time I used my Star Wars knowledge to save an extremely awkward date, I would have enough money to buy myself a 2 for 99 cents tacos at Jack In The Box on my way home from that date.

I grew up assuming everyone could speak wookie and only found out in college that having this talent made me popular at parties. Chewbacca-ing out really impressed drunk people and even a few people of the competitive water polo playing variety *wink*.

Once Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back came out I was over Luke and his darker hair and that whole weird crush on his sister thing and started my lifelong one-sided love affair with Han Solo. That scruffy-looking Nerf Herder was my obsession for years. My crush continued to follow him right into Blade Runner and Indiana Jones.

Is it me or were the 80’s the platinum age of adventure movies? Because it sure was chocked-full of light saber wielding, dreamy leading man romancing, kick-ass princessing, Light vrs. Dark side battling fun!

I have a glimmer of Hope for the next movies. I have no doubt that JJ Abrams can make a great movie, but being able to re capture that magic that was in the first three films is what I doubt. No matter what happens they can never take the originals from us.

Oh and this was my favorite Star Wars Day meme on the inter webs today. My favorites are collapsed At-At and reclined Jabba.

Namaste!