Had a great weekend
I spent the weekend with Amanda and really had a good time. Amanda is a veterinarian, and makes emergency house-calls. So she's frequently "on call" and that means I have to visit her on those weekends.
Also, to be fair about it, we met through an on-line dating service. Since the only distance option was a radius from your zip code, and since I wanted to meet someone from Plymouth, MA to Bangor, ME, I used 100 miles (max allowable) from Portsmouth, NH as my search criteria.
Well that put my "location" inside of Amanda's search radius (she followed the rules) and anyway, she was not looking to meet a guy two hours away. So it's perfectly fair for me to do most of the driving to her place in southern Maine.
On my way up, Friday at about 8:00, I got a call. I was about an hour away and she had to make house call. If she wasn't home yet, let myself in, make myself comfortable. She'd gone to treat a horse who as it turns out had a bug bite. So she was back in time to greet me.
Saturday, we did some window-shopping for some high-ticket items. The new Toyota FJ Cruiser might be the replacement for my pick-up next year. It's the first genuine off-road vehicle that's been designed lately, in my (seldom humble, but often erroneous) opinion. Most folks don't need off-road capabilities, so the SUV has evolved into a 4x4 grocery getter. But, I digress. Amanda seemed happy that I was so excited looking at the little truck, but I don't think she "gets it" when I'm acting like a chimp at his first fire. Anyway, the FJ will have to wait until I rack up 200,000 on the GMC.
Saturday's dinner was pork-chops. Amanda is a wonderful cook. I might not be keen on all the signals women send out, but I got this one loud and clear. It wasn't vegetarian and it wasn't chicken. She's expanding what she'll eat, the compromise being I may only eat steak in restaurants. If she keeps cooking like this and I might forget what steak is anyway. Maybe I shouldn't publish this and then use it as some sort of bargaining tool for some later compromise. Nah.
Oh, crap. I just remembered she mentioned she bought roast beef for a sandwich. I then steered us to the local pizza joint for lunch. I think I was supposed to do the math and figure out she bought it solely for my consumption. But I was thinking that I wanted pizza from the store with the flashy lights and figured she'd have lunch meat for later anyway. I can be so stupid sometimes.
Saturday evening I met some of Amanda's friends she'd made through work over some wine and "hores due orvis" at Amada's place. These are folks who wanted to meet me, so I'm assuming they are fairly high on the food chain. We had some intelligent conversation, a bit of debate, and a good time. Obviously, with her profession and my hobby, the conversation always comes back around to dogs.
Early Sunday we (meaning she) had to be in Portsmouth for a horse show (for the NAVHDA folks, this is very much like a hunt test, except they have trained horses under judgment). Amanda was the presiding veterinarian. All the horses were given a quick once-over to check for obvious health issues prior to the show.
The big difference I noticed (other than the trucks are bigger and have trailers and the animals weigh 20 times more) was the buck-to-doe ratio. It's ALL women, and not like NAVHDA is all men. I'd say that at least 20% of the Attendees, and 10% of the PARTICIPANTS in NAVHDA events are women. I was one of three men there; none of us seemed to be doing anything. That joke about a fish needing a bicycle came to mind. It seems a dog club can't run without women, but a horse club can run without men. I knew it was a female dominated sport, but I expected men to be there to help with their families and all the little support jobs that the club has to have.
A lot of other things are the same: folks working hard, canopies, folks re-uniting with people they see only at the events, somebody scrambling to take care of this-or-that.
One horse kind of spooked and the young rider (who wasn't mounted at the time) lost control in a scary situation. I couldn't tell from my angle how close the girl came to getting kicked in the head, but it was the right height and she was in roughly the right position to take both feet to the face. Amanda grabbed the kid; I elected to not grab the horse as it ran by me. I felt my gut reaction to do so had a slim chance of making the situation better, and a huge opportunity to make it much worse. I left that up to the folks who know what they are doing. It crossed my mind that I'd have to become one of the folks who knows something if I'm to keep up with this. And had been wondering why folks were wearing helmets while just walking around.
Sunday afternoon (and just in time to interrupt lunch) the emergency phone rang. I've been wanting to go on an emergency run, and this was it. The initial news was the horse was on her side in the pasture. This IS bad news and the time to call for emergency service. I got to play navigator and got us there maybe a minute (yes 60 seconds) earlier than if Amanda had to do it herself. I pat myself on the back because that was my SOLE contribution.
Upon arrival, the owner informed Amanda that she'd gotten the mare on her feet, in her stall, and she was producing milk...
This particular horse is older (towards the end of the period you'd expect her to become pregnant) and underweight. The new owner has been bringing her back to health since she got her just a month ago. The horse gestation period averages 340 days -- almost a year.
Anyway, Amanda dons a glove and starts the exam by reaching up the horse's ass, manually removing crap so she can get her arm in deeper. So she's up past her elbow in the horse's ass, and I'm thinking "Wow! That's MY girl." I think most folks would have been thinking "Eeeeww!"
The pregnancy could not be confirmed, however, it seems more likely than not. Had she felt the uterus, it would have been "floating" in it's normal spot. Since it was lower than where it usually can be found, it's likely weighed down by a foal. Finding the empty uterus would have confirmed not pregnant, finding a foal would have confirmed pregnancy. Finding nothing means probably pregnant.
She drew blood (seemed like a quart) for analysis, and prescribed antibiotics in case this is an infection associated with the pregnancy. If pregnant, it would be considered high-risk.
I thought this was a great call for me to watch. Not so boring as a bug bite, nor has horrible as foundering. The worst likely outcome is a treatable infection, the best possible outcome is a foal, that the folks would love to have.
We talked a bit about what we found attractive about each other's on-line descriptions of ourselves. It was like "Wow, she keeps a horse and won't mind the dogs," and "Wow, he keeps dogs and will tolerate the horse." It was about a week before I looked at her profession. I had intentionally tried not to look too much at that information. I didn't want to let someone's job cloud my thinking; rocket scientist or oil-change technician.
But it got me thinking. Amanda's profession as a veterinarian (a horse vet is even better to this gun-dog guy's thinking) is one of the many things I find attractive about her. I think a lot of guys in the Gen-X and Y are looking at a woman's job and factoring it in just as many women did openly decades ago (and don't do often enough today, in my opinion). A friend's grandmother told me she went to nursing school so she could get a job in a hospital. Did she want to be a nurse? No. She wanted to marry a doctor, and you find doctors in hospitals. (She married a doctor.)
So after some meditation on the subject, I've decided there's nothing wrong with my attraction to her as a veterinarian. If she was an oil-change technician or a rocket scientist, chances are we wouldn't have so much in common. She has a job she loves, and I admire her for committing to the goal of becoming a vet and then going through the hard work and sacrifice to accomplish it.
I mean really, if she was a librarian who collected Hummels, would she put up with four dogs?
The fact that her job is well-paying (although she'll never be fabulously wealthy on what a vet makes) is a bonus to me. I don't think folks have to be rich to be happy. I think folks need to live within their means. It's easier to live within your means when there's more money coming in the door. Amanda and I both have some expensive hobbies.
Also, to be fair about it, we met through an on-line dating service. Since the only distance option was a radius from your zip code, and since I wanted to meet someone from Plymouth, MA to Bangor, ME, I used 100 miles (max allowable) from Portsmouth, NH as my search criteria.
Well that put my "location" inside of Amanda's search radius (she followed the rules) and anyway, she was not looking to meet a guy two hours away. So it's perfectly fair for me to do most of the driving to her place in southern Maine.
On my way up, Friday at about 8:00, I got a call. I was about an hour away and she had to make house call. If she wasn't home yet, let myself in, make myself comfortable. She'd gone to treat a horse who as it turns out had a bug bite. So she was back in time to greet me.
Saturday, we did some window-shopping for some high-ticket items. The new Toyota FJ Cruiser might be the replacement for my pick-up next year. It's the first genuine off-road vehicle that's been designed lately, in my (seldom humble, but often erroneous) opinion. Most folks don't need off-road capabilities, so the SUV has evolved into a 4x4 grocery getter. But, I digress. Amanda seemed happy that I was so excited looking at the little truck, but I don't think she "gets it" when I'm acting like a chimp at his first fire. Anyway, the FJ will have to wait until I rack up 200,000 on the GMC.
Saturday's dinner was pork-chops. Amanda is a wonderful cook. I might not be keen on all the signals women send out, but I got this one loud and clear. It wasn't vegetarian and it wasn't chicken. She's expanding what she'll eat, the compromise being I may only eat steak in restaurants. If she keeps cooking like this and I might forget what steak is anyway. Maybe I shouldn't publish this and then use it as some sort of bargaining tool for some later compromise. Nah.
Oh, crap. I just remembered she mentioned she bought roast beef for a sandwich. I then steered us to the local pizza joint for lunch. I think I was supposed to do the math and figure out she bought it solely for my consumption. But I was thinking that I wanted pizza from the store with the flashy lights and figured she'd have lunch meat for later anyway. I can be so stupid sometimes.
Saturday evening I met some of Amanda's friends she'd made through work over some wine and "hores due orvis" at Amada's place. These are folks who wanted to meet me, so I'm assuming they are fairly high on the food chain. We had some intelligent conversation, a bit of debate, and a good time. Obviously, with her profession and my hobby, the conversation always comes back around to dogs.
Early Sunday we (meaning she) had to be in Portsmouth for a horse show (for the NAVHDA folks, this is very much like a hunt test, except they have trained horses under judgment). Amanda was the presiding veterinarian. All the horses were given a quick once-over to check for obvious health issues prior to the show.
The big difference I noticed (other than the trucks are bigger and have trailers and the animals weigh 20 times more) was the buck-to-doe ratio. It's ALL women, and not like NAVHDA is all men. I'd say that at least 20% of the Attendees, and 10% of the PARTICIPANTS in NAVHDA events are women. I was one of three men there; none of us seemed to be doing anything. That joke about a fish needing a bicycle came to mind. It seems a dog club can't run without women, but a horse club can run without men. I knew it was a female dominated sport, but I expected men to be there to help with their families and all the little support jobs that the club has to have.
A lot of other things are the same: folks working hard, canopies, folks re-uniting with people they see only at the events, somebody scrambling to take care of this-or-that.
One horse kind of spooked and the young rider (who wasn't mounted at the time) lost control in a scary situation. I couldn't tell from my angle how close the girl came to getting kicked in the head, but it was the right height and she was in roughly the right position to take both feet to the face. Amanda grabbed the kid; I elected to not grab the horse as it ran by me. I felt my gut reaction to do so had a slim chance of making the situation better, and a huge opportunity to make it much worse. I left that up to the folks who know what they are doing. It crossed my mind that I'd have to become one of the folks who knows something if I'm to keep up with this. And had been wondering why folks were wearing helmets while just walking around.
Sunday afternoon (and just in time to interrupt lunch) the emergency phone rang. I've been wanting to go on an emergency run, and this was it. The initial news was the horse was on her side in the pasture. This IS bad news and the time to call for emergency service. I got to play navigator and got us there maybe a minute (yes 60 seconds) earlier than if Amanda had to do it herself. I pat myself on the back because that was my SOLE contribution.
Upon arrival, the owner informed Amanda that she'd gotten the mare on her feet, in her stall, and she was producing milk...
This particular horse is older (towards the end of the period you'd expect her to become pregnant) and underweight. The new owner has been bringing her back to health since she got her just a month ago. The horse gestation period averages 340 days -- almost a year.
Anyway, Amanda dons a glove and starts the exam by reaching up the horse's ass, manually removing crap so she can get her arm in deeper. So she's up past her elbow in the horse's ass, and I'm thinking "Wow! That's MY girl." I think most folks would have been thinking "Eeeeww!"
The pregnancy could not be confirmed, however, it seems more likely than not. Had she felt the uterus, it would have been "floating" in it's normal spot. Since it was lower than where it usually can be found, it's likely weighed down by a foal. Finding the empty uterus would have confirmed not pregnant, finding a foal would have confirmed pregnancy. Finding nothing means probably pregnant.
She drew blood (seemed like a quart) for analysis, and prescribed antibiotics in case this is an infection associated with the pregnancy. If pregnant, it would be considered high-risk.
I thought this was a great call for me to watch. Not so boring as a bug bite, nor has horrible as foundering. The worst likely outcome is a treatable infection, the best possible outcome is a foal, that the folks would love to have.
We talked a bit about what we found attractive about each other's on-line descriptions of ourselves. It was like "Wow, she keeps a horse and won't mind the dogs," and "Wow, he keeps dogs and will tolerate the horse." It was about a week before I looked at her profession. I had intentionally tried not to look too much at that information. I didn't want to let someone's job cloud my thinking; rocket scientist or oil-change technician.
But it got me thinking. Amanda's profession as a veterinarian (a horse vet is even better to this gun-dog guy's thinking) is one of the many things I find attractive about her. I think a lot of guys in the Gen-X and Y are looking at a woman's job and factoring it in just as many women did openly decades ago (and don't do often enough today, in my opinion). A friend's grandmother told me she went to nursing school so she could get a job in a hospital. Did she want to be a nurse? No. She wanted to marry a doctor, and you find doctors in hospitals. (She married a doctor.)
So after some meditation on the subject, I've decided there's nothing wrong with my attraction to her as a veterinarian. If she was an oil-change technician or a rocket scientist, chances are we wouldn't have so much in common. She has a job she loves, and I admire her for committing to the goal of becoming a vet and then going through the hard work and sacrifice to accomplish it.
I mean really, if she was a librarian who collected Hummels, would she put up with four dogs?
The fact that her job is well-paying (although she'll never be fabulously wealthy on what a vet makes) is a bonus to me. I don't think folks have to be rich to be happy. I think folks need to live within their means. It's easier to live within your means when there's more money coming in the door. Amanda and I both have some expensive hobbies.
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