Two Things You Might Not Know About Me

And One Thing That You Probably Already Do Know.

1. The singer I most resemble is Mandy Patinkin. This is because we are both handsome gentlemen; we both sing nicely but with a tendancy towards the shriller end of the spectrum; and we both have profiles tending more towards the convex. Other similarities: I would be intimidated by muppets, just like the villainous Huxley, if I met them. I would also be able to use a sword like Inigo Montoya if I had thumbs, because what I lack in thumbs I make up for in agility and wiles.

2. The nicknames that are commonly used for me include:
A. Mr. Grumbles. This is for when I am groaning while being girthed up. It is only for the FarmWife to use and I do not want to hear it from any of you, ever, unless you are willing to give me some pop tarts in exchange for name-calling privileges.
B. Ferris Muler. This is only for when I am being lazy and inattentive. None of you will ever find me being lazy and inattentive, because I only very occasionally permit myself this luxury.

C. FenBar the Barbarimule. This is for when I am very disheveled and less than perfectly groomed. I shall refrain from pointing out the obvious connection between the laxity of my groom, aka FarmWife, and the resulting condition in which she might find me after several hours of neglect.
D. Hungry Hungry Hippo. I am too embarrassed to go into detail about this humiliating moniker, but I will make no secret of the fact that I do occasionally exert pressure on the FarmWife in the form of desperate screams in order to beg for more hay.
E. Muleykins or Muley Baby. These are because the FarmWife loves me.

3. The thing I am best at other than being beautiful, sonorous, and clever is Surmounting Obstacles. This means that going up a precipitous slope presents me no challenge. It also means that no trailway blockage is too much for me. Within the limits of the FarmWife's judgement of safe leaping conditions, I can and will leap over absolutely anything in front of me, except when it is an obstacle designed to contain mules. I am very respectful that way.

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

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The Scoop on Bird

Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok. I have ridden him...

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That Which Was Foretold Has Come To Pass

After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1) it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway. 3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud. 4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous.

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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