I blame Cersei.

If you’re not a resident of the central/western US, you may not know about goatheads.

They are evil caltrops. They’re the seed of an evil plant and they cause evil wounds to people feet, dog feet, and bicycle tires. Not that I have a bicycle, but they’re THAT sturdy. If I had a laminitic horse, I would seriously worry about goathead caltrops in its soles! Happily, a quick Google tells me that goathead plants are the only native thing left living in my yard – I erroneously assumed that That One Vine wasn’t a devil plant. Since I removed all the other native spiny weedy plants – and by removed I mean I’ve filled up to six trash bags per week for three months – it’ll be easy enough for me to kill off the goatheads.

Anyway.

Two days ago I found one on a sock while I was slipping on my cheap imitation Crocs. Yesterday I found another one. Today I found a third and decided to Take Action – I turned on all the lights and crawled around the den carpet feeling for goatheads.

I hope I found them all.

edited to add: after I took this picture I found one more (and two Cersei-nail-clippings.)

I would really like to blame Cersei for this. Not that I would yell at her or anything – she is but an innocent dog – but, you know, cleaning up after the dog is easier than cleaning up after yourself. Sadly, ALL the goatheads were within a couple of feet of where I sit on my couch. (As opposed to Cersei’s couch – don’t all good dogs have their own slipcovered couches? Trust me, it keeps the People Couch much cleaner if you just give in and let the dog have her own.)

I’d really like to pin this one on the dog, but circumstantial evidence suggests it’s I who is tracking them in. :(

I blame Cersei.

If you’re not a resident of the central/western US, you may not know about goatheads.

They are evil caltrops. They’re the seed of an evil plant and they cause evil wounds to people feet, dog feet, and bicycle tires. Not that I have a bicycle, but they’re THAT sturdy. If I had a laminitic horse, I would seriously worry about goathead caltrops in its soles! Happily, a quick Google tells me that goathead plants are the only native thing left living in my yard – I erroneously assumed that That One Vine wasn’t a devil plant. Since I removed all the other native spiny weedy plants – and by removed I mean I’ve filled up to six trash bags per week for three months – it’ll be easy enough for me to kill off the goatheads.

Anyway.

Two days ago I found one on a sock while I was slipping on my cheap imitation Crocs. Yesterday I found another one. Today I found a third and decided to Take Action – I turned on all the lights and crawled around the den carpet feeling for goatheads.

I hope I found them all.

edited to add: after I took this picture I found one more (and two Cersei-nail-clippings.)

I would really like to blame Cersei for this. Not that I would yell at her or anything – she is but an innocent dog – but, you know, cleaning up after the dog is easier than cleaning up after yourself. Sadly, ALL the goatheads were within a couple of feet of where I sit on my couch. (As opposed to Cersei’s couch – don’t all good dogs have their own slipcovered couches? Trust me, it keeps the People Couch much cleaner if you just give in and let the dog have her own.)

I’d really like to pin this one on the dog, but circumstantial evidence suggests it’s I who is tracking them in. :(

Virginia City 100

For some strange reason I volunteered for the early morning shift of the VC 100 last weekend. I got up way too early and drove down to south Reno. It was cold!
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I got to vet scribe. Yay, that’s my favorite! The ride was quite small with only 25 entries. It’s been a tough year for most rides, plus VC is usually spaced out far enough from Tevis that people can do both – but this year Tevis will be just three weeks later than VC, so I’m sure they lost a few riders there. The first check is down on the edge of south Reno, just a couple of miles from The Fancy Mall. Nothing there looked interesting enough to take pictures of (plus I hadn’t had enough coffee to care). After the last riders came through, I went over to the fancy mall, bought some fruit at the farmers’ market, and hit Starbucks. Then up the bus plunge scenic mountainside road to Virginia City.

Basecamp is about a mile outside of VC, in the tiny (1000 people?) community of Gold Hill. There is a big foofaraw about a new open pit gold mine right down the road – most of the houses in Gold Hill had “stop the mine!” signs. I know that mining is pretty much the only thing keeping Nevada solvent right now, but I’d be pretty pissed if they were open pit mining a mile from MY cute historic house and MY well.

I think this is the mine in question.
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Here’s Six Mile Canyon Bus Plunge Road, which leads down to some little community between Dayton and Stagecoach. The pale stuff that looks like a sand dune is historic mine tailings (good for tourism), as opposed to current mine tailings (bad for tourism).
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Virginia City.
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Ancient Jeeps from Storey County fire/rescue.
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Inside the Ice House, which used to be a real ice house. (Where did the ice come from? Little lakes in the Sierras?)
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Pretty cool.

At one point there was a small brush fire down toward Carson City, but the crews got it contained fast and it fortunately wasn’t on the trail. (I think that’s the most hardcore Surface Factors pull possible – trail was on fire so we pulled everybody.)

People had come roaring in to the first vet check right on time with the historical averages, but they were very slow getting to the lunch check. I actually really enjoyed sitting around talking to the vets and volunteers. I’ve been forcing myself to volunteer at rides and be social and chitchat, and I’m finally at the point where I recognize enough people (and enough people recognize me) that I can just talk and listen without feeling agonizingly out of place. The vets actually spent a lot of time talking Theory of Vetting, which was fascinating to listen to – what they think the trail will sort out versus when they want to pull the horse to keep it from being hurt. Of course most of the talk was about the crash at the air race. So sad!

I eventually went home about 4, to a Very Angry Horse and a dog who didn’t really notice I left. She is the queen of snoozing on her back on my bed. :)

Blog bankruptcy declared

I’m too far behind to comment.  Sorry, yall.  I did read everybody’s blogs, but I hereby admit that I just can’t comment on them all.  Too overwhelming.  I have been all blah’d out and generally feeling emotionally sucky – I have nothing to say about my life and nothing helpful to say to other people, whine whine.  I took that big spotted horse out yesterday and got back on track, I think.

(Email bankruptcy is when you admit that your email is insurmountable and you’re just not going to try to respond to any existing messages.  I think blog bankruptcy should work the same way – I will go back to my usual commenting frequency starting from today.)

I’m putting up pictures from Virginia City and last week’s ride behind Peavine and I’ll get them written up and scheduled.  Yesterday I didn’t take any pictures – it was just another summer ride at Red Rocks – but I did convince Dixie to gallop fearlessly canter hesitantly toward some cows. They were hovering around the trailer, eating stray bits of hay. (I didn’t hassle them – they moo’d and gallumped about 20 feet away and stopped to glare balefully at us.)  I think she’s finally getting the idea that she’s higher up the food chain than a cow.

I have no idea if High Desert is still on for October, but if it is, I’m planning on the 25 LD on Saturday. I have convinced myself that anything longer will cripple my horse, and I just don’t want to ride Sundays. Everybody else wants me to ride Sundays, but that’s the day that G and I sack out and watch football and IM each other about it. It’s the only day of the week where it almost feels like he’s here and I don’t want to miss it.  None of my riding buddies understand this in the least, but there it is.

Disaster

(Not to me or mine – don’t freak out, Mom!)

I never blog about the news – that’s what the media is for – but this one is literally so close to home.  We live about five miles from Reno-Stead airport, and every year they have air races.  I kinda worry about a plane crashing on my house, but it’s far back in the ranks of worries, like a big earthquake or a wildfire.  Well, tonight a P-51 crashed into the stands on the last race of the night.  Apparently it’s pretty bad.  My heart goes out to the victims.

Volunteering at the