I could have gone my whole life without seeing that...

I took this pic today after a really weird rainstorm. It was the most incredible rainbow I've ever seen.

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What a day! Actually, it was quite uneventful until the late afternoon. Shaved my legs, ate a salami pizza for lunch (the equivalent of a pepperoni pizza in Canada), played around on the computer, watched some Olympic fencing and....ping pong? Like, what the? Did they know that no one would be watching the Olympics on August 13, hence all the boring "sports"? And if this offends you please don't write me any nasty comments explaining your opinions on what makes something a sport. This is MY blog and in MY opinion ping pong should not be in the Olympics. And neither should shooting a pistol at a target. Even fencing barely makes the cut, as far as I'm concerned. SO THERE. Go pout about my ignorance on your own blog.



Ah! You have decided to keep on reading DESPITE my little temper tantrum. Well, you win the prize, because today really was a GEM. At four o'clock Irene (the super nice horse lady I wrote about a few days ago; in the pic on the left) picked us up in front of Maike's house for a few hours at the stables. Maike was supposed to be getting a riding lesson from her. However, once we got to the stables it turned out that one of Irene's horses, Hera, was sick - CHOLIC. The scary horse ailment. Now, I'm no horse expert. In fact, if you wanna get technical, I'm probably more of a horse idiot (I love horses and I love riding them, but I really KNOW next to nothing about them). But even I could tell that Hera was not feeling well AT ALL. She kept wanting to lie down, which is apparently one of the signs of cholic. She kept turning her head towards her hurting stomach and she was breathing 80/min...aka WAY TOO FAST. And then she would just stand there all pitiful-like and hang her head, almost leaning against Irene. Imagine a giant mare, a few horseshoes short of one ton, leaning against you. Yeesh. Anyways, basically Irene told me cholic is bascially really bad gas getting stuck in the horse's intestine. And apparently the horse will get itself all excited (in a bad way...) about the pain, which just makes it all worse. Then they lie down and basically suffocate themselves to death. Doesn't that sound terrible? Death by indigestion? Basically, they had to make sure that Hera didn't lie down. So, after calling the vet, Irene and Susi took her into the arena to walk around and keep her moving. Maike got Traki ready and just went riding in the arena on her own instead of getting an actual formal lesson from Irene. And on the way to the hall, guess what I saw! A HORSE ON A TREADMILL. THEY MAKE HORSE TREADMILLS. At least, I'm assuming it was a treadmill made especially for horses. I can't imagine what size of human being might require a machine of that magnitude. But seriously, it was the funniest thing I have ever seen. I don't even think you can comprehend how comical it looked without seeing it in person. It's like watching one of those movies where all the animals talk and act like people. Veggie Tales, but replace the veggies with barnyard animals. Ok, bad analogy. But seriously. I can just picture this horse running on the tread mill, saying to itself, "I CAN DO IT. 20 more minutes, 20 more minutes .... must ... lose ... 5 ... more ... pounds. Must...fit...into...that...HOT NEW LEATHER SADDLE!!! Ow, cramp, need...Vitamin-enriched...mineral....water. NOW!" So that was the first strange thing of my day.

I sat at the front of the arena to watch Maike and I felt so bad for poor Hera. She looked so miserable! Especially with all the happy horses exercising in the arena around her. And then...drumroll please, Jordan...the vet entered. This is when my day really took a turn for the...uh...stranger. So, he walked over to Irene and Hera, stuck a thermometer in her rear end (HERA'S OF COURSE, YOU SILLY PEOPLE) and stood there for a while. I was like, "well, that's a little awkward. Poor Hera." But whatevs, it's just a skinny little thermometer. Then he did some more check-up stuff. You know, the usual, stethoscope, checking eyes, blah blah blah. So I turned my attention to Maike, who was still riding Traki around. Ok, now remember, poor Hera was just standing there in the middle of the arena. Other people riding around her, more people just watching like me from the sidelines. That's when Mr. Vet pulled out this long plastic bag thingy. Like, long. And then he started putting his right arm into it ... And suddenly my attention was once again turned fully towards the chronicles of a sick horse. I mean, I had an inkling. But I thought, "surely not. Not in front of everyone. In the middle of the arena. IN FRONT OF MY VIRGIN EYES." Oh, oh folks. HE DID. He deflowered my innocent sensibilities. Now I know that some of you probably don't find this so gross. Auntie Kathy, Kara, and Shelly, you guys lived on a dairy farm. You've seen things come out of the back of a cow that I can't even fathom. And others of you just aren't bothered by this (I'm guessing: dad, Auntie Helena, Tim, maybe Rebekah M...I dunno.) In fact, perhaps it's just me who would get all traumatized at this point. But I'm a LOWLY English major, as my siblings like to remind me every so often. I dissect unimportant poetry, not indispensible life-preserving body parts. So, for those of you who might not have clued in yet, he pulled the plastic bag up, up, up his arm, all the way to the shoulder. Then he took this giant white squeeze bottle and poured a bunch of stuff into the plastic-covered hand. I'M ASSUMING A LUBRICANT OF SOME SORT. AT LEAST I CERTAINLY HOPE SO, for the horse's sake. And then he stuck his arm up. Up. Up THERE. Like, honestly. Do I have to say it? Ok, I'll say it. Up the bum. Let me repeat. He stuck his arm up the horse's bum IN FRONT OF ME. Did I mention already that he did it right in front of me? So in he went. About half-way up the forearm. Then he pulled it out and dropped a bunch of crap on the ground. Literally. So I thought, ok, well, my pizza is still INSIDE MY stomach and I'd prefer to keep it there. Just cuz the horse's intestines aren't doing too hot doesn't mean mine have the green light to go all screwy. So I've got that going for me. And now...ah yes, it's over. Oh goody.

Well, let me just tell you I was quite mistaken. Oh, I have rarely been so frighteningly mistaken. He went in for more. This time just past the elbow. And I'm starting to squirm in my chair. Let me just say, the horse hasn't even FLINCHED yet. I'm sorry, but I would notice an arm up my butt. I would, I'm quite sure of it. No, I'm gonna be bold here and say I'M CERTAIN OF IT. So then he pulled his arm back out and released another handful of half-baked feces. So now, I'm feeling, pizza is really threatening to make a grand reappearance. But it's over now. Right? Heck NO. This vet apparently wasn't satisfied. I was beginning to think he was enjoying himself. I mean, I know it's a chilly day and it must be warm in there, but come on. There are much more ... hygenic ... less ... VOMIT-INDUCING ways to get rid of goosebumps. A blanket? Car heater? Walking over hot coals? I'm just saying...

Ok, so dive # 3. All the way up to the shoulder this time - and let me just quickly mention at this point this it doesn't just nicely slide on up there. There is thrusting involved. And he stays up there for quite a while. I actually started to feel physical pain for poor Hera. Yet, horse still not even moving. I mean, how does the flash of a camera or a spontaneous burst of laughter scare the proverbial PANTS off of a horse, but sticking an entire limb up its behind doesn't even warrant a well-placed kick to your head?

Well, I’m happy to report that the pizza decided its reappearance might not be as pleasurable an experience as its ingestion so we were all good on that front. But still. EW. I CAN’T STRESS THAT POINT ENOUGH. EW. And by the way, do you have any idea what it looks like when you pull your hand back out? Something to consider if you haven't ever before...I'M SO FUNNY. Strangely enough no one else in the arena seemed to find this seemingly never-ending process very note worthy. I'm guessing all these horse-people had seen it a few times before. Or, like I said earlier, I'm just super sensitive to seeing arms up butts.

Then the vet came back with a relatively harmless-looking needle, which he proceeded to stick into the thick, muscled neck of brave Hera. But this time she noticed. Eyes got wide, neck lurched. I wanted to walk over, slap her across the face, and inform/remind her that she just had half a human inside her bowels. How can she plausibly expect me to believe that this eeny weeny needle was bothering her? Again, I reiterate – I AM NO HORSE EXPERT. But if I had to choose between a needle and a colonoscopy, I’m fairly certain THERE WOULD BE NO HESITATION. "You can shoot a needle arsenal into me from 10 feet away (like Grindhouse!) with your eyes closed, Mr. Doctor! Just PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t bring out the arm-length plastic sleeve and giant white squeeze bottle!"

So how was your day?