So the tack room project is proving to be a LOT more then I thought it would be. The junk, mice, spider webs, power washing, chicken shit (never own chickens....fresh eggs are not worth it...more on that later), oiling all the leather, bleaching all the grooming stuff, washing blankets and wraps, and the hardest part...throwing away all the meds for my beloved Bullet James that were too hard to go near right after that angel got his wings...it's gone from trainwreck to not quite reasonable! Sigh. Sometimes I wish my Father had raised less of a perfectionist (this only pertains to my barn/horses....everything else I really don't care). Also one irritating thing....2 horses....6 damn blankets....WHY?
Being out here however has brought back some amazing feelings that in the last 2 years of a drunken stupor I had completely forgotten about. I remember being in this barn organizing or playing with the horses and seeing a small issue. Then trotting over to Dad's barn where he would be doing whatever men do...no doubt it was incredibly manly... and I'd tell him a little issue. Something absolutely tiny and stupid, give him some easy solution, ask for the tools to fix it and assume I'd be on my happy barn rat way. Oh no....Dad would come back to my barn...see the thing and he and I would start brainstorming....next thing you know the we are knocking down walls and drawing blueprints for NASA's new space center because somehow it made sense. Seriously if he was in his barn and it was related to horses and I caught it....world hunger would have been solved in this barn...shit and because he and I would get so into it we would probably figure out a way to build them all 4 bedroom homes with a pool....all before Mom called us in for dinner of course! This is because my Dad was/is a F'in badass!!
Now about chicken HELL! So the idea of chickens and fresh eggs probably sounds amazing to most people....that's because you (and us 3 years ago) are an a hole. One big stupid thing about my family is we care way too much about animals...32 chickens and 3 awful satanic roosters that Dad (after building the Ritz of all chicken coops) decided would enjoy life more if they could roam the farm freely. He read books...they told them this...the only time I will ever say this....F books!!!! Chickens will roost on everything....cover everything in shit and roosters will attack you...until you DIE or run screaming to your convertible where you will wait for hours until a family member comes home with an umbrella (they are scared of those) to chase them away and be your bodyguard to safety. They will attack you when you are tacking up your horse. Which is worst case scenario if you have a nervous horse and you are running around it in circles screaming because the seed of Satan with feathers has found you and decided it is now your time to die. I hated them....Dad loved them...I now required a bodyguard at all times to walk out of the house....so never, under any circumstance, if you like having nice things or living, acquire these monsters!
And some pictures....tackroom progress....I want to paint it next....can't pick a good color....maybe a dark brown...maybe a stain.
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