I was going to the barn anyway. I just wanted to bitch about how cold our house is. Woe is me.
Since the sun was shining on one of its rare, fake "it's almost spring!" occurrences, I initially went up to the outdoor to ride. Bobby longed fine up there, though he made sure I worked ten times harder than him once he realized I was not in possession of the longe whip. Dick. I got on, walked for awhile, and picked up the trot.
He wasn't particularly comfortable on the footing which wasn't as soft as it had been over the weekend. It needs to get dragged, but who wants to drag the outdoor when next week it's supposed to snow again?
Answer: NO ONE BECAUSE FUCK YOU, WINTER!!
So down the hill we went to retreat to the indoor. He was one sassy monster once we got down there so I let him have a bit of a canter before going back to the trot. It probably had something to do with the hussy of a mare in the back pen that had her tail flipped over her back and her butt pressed against the gate peeing all over herself at the sight of my giant, awkward gelding. Seriously. Mares. I don't know how people deal with that.
|said slutty mare hoping to gain access to bobby's manliness from outside.|
bobby, meanwhile, is shooting me The Look for making him stand still for this picture.
Amazingly, the canter seemed to do the trick and he settled right into his work. And by work I mean mostly aimless trotting and a few circles of canter thrown in as I pretended we were getting ready for the Novice A test.
After which, of course, we ran through the Novice A test. Easy peasy, well done Robert, moving the fuck on, back to outside.
We were all set to walk up the hill for a brief trail ride when Bobby suddenly decided that he could not step down the two inch drop that was filled with a two inch strip of ice that would lead us to said hill. I finally got off to address this new and totally uncalled for problem.
|"no. i cannot do it."|
After several unsuccessful attempts at getting the pig to take one fucking step down, I stomped back to the arena and grabbed a dressage whip. Oh, ho, who can walk forward now? I didn't even need to touch him with it. He gave me a dirty look and marched down beside me over and over and over again. There is nothing scary about a strip of ice that's thinner than my arm and about as long, tool bag.
I finally got back on and we made it up the hill and back down again without incident.
Feet soaked, blanket changed, and back to the ice cave that is my house.