Neigh, Neigh, No, No.

 

                                              This was popular in the 1950s.

"Why use plain ole butter when you can use… horse fat? The ad boasts using the finest horse hooves and fat that money can buy. It also says that it’s great on bread, toast and pancakes.

Just the idea of this is disgusting to most of the world today, let alone to those concerned with animal rights. The one redeeming thing about this ad is that it shows the contrast between yesterday’s world and ours. I don’t think that using horse fat is even legal anymore, but in the 1950’s it was simply an alternative. Still, this gives the phrase “I can’t believe it’s not butter” a whole different meaning." Retro Dee's, Dickman's (made from the goodness of ponies.)

1950s, burping pen, Grooveyard, Horse fat salad, jello salad, Kraft foods, potato fudge, Retro Dee, tonsils in a jar

 

You want it, we got it.

 Some of fellow bloggers have questioned its validity, as rightly you should. While there is butter to use on horses for their health, nothing is written about this product, dang it. Ponies were popular in the rural areas where I grew up. The Dept of Agriculture wanted to use ponies as alternative to beef, so farmers were encouraged to give this a run. That was in the 1950s.

Give it a try?   

Some readers may consider this a hoax, but it is not. Neighbors did this experiment. A neighbor Jim tried this, still had one pony left which I saw in the field a few times. 

This was a 2022 blog post.  I hope you all will find this inspiring.

My daughter lives in Switzerland and their fine eating is different from ours.  

culinary heritage Swiss

This will tell you more than you ever needed to know about this Switzerland delicacy.

 

 

 

My Secret Desire

My brother Bill with 'Sonny'

I have always been a secret cowboy, yes.  In my mind, I am riding a white Andalusia horse across the golden hills of Santa Barbara.  I would be young again, with long chestnut hair; my horse would fly across the golden land, and we would never stop.  Yes, that is my dream.

In reality, the only ‘horses’ I have ridden with any success are on the carousel at the fair or the ponies who miserably plod around in a circle. 

My brother Bill was a real cowboy; he bought a two year old quarter horse when he was in high school. When he became an adult (well, he grew to adult size, anyway), he lived in Texas and had several horses.  He even talked like a Texan.

My brother, Bill, in 1992

I came home from college one weekend after Bill had gotten ‘Sonny’.  He asked, “Wanta ride ‘im?” Sensing no subterfuge, I eagerly climbed up, and held the reins the way I remembered from my pony-riding days.  I even make that click-click sound, the one I’d heard in all the cowboy shows ever made.

Sonny took off, and I mean he took off like a rocket.  As he headed up the road, Bill’s laughter filled the air.  I was hanging on for my very life, and he was laughing. 

When Sonny finally stopped after going a quarter mile (I swear), I jumped down, and lead the blasted animal back home.  I didn’t sit for two days. 

My red boots next to my spinning wheel, things I have collected

I will never ever ride a horse again, I think.  I don’t want to hurt something that may not heal.  So instead, I bought something that will have to substitute: red cowboy boots.

Yup, pardner.  I may never fly across the plains on my white horse, but I will strut like nobody’s business in my red cowboy boots.