|you know it.|
On the riding front, it was limited activities. Bobby had a massage scheduled for eleven Saturday morning so I jumped on him quick before then. He was surprisingly really, really good. No drama about a thing, not even the canter. He wanted to break to the canter when I cued for the medium trot, but once I started posting instead he went prancing around like a mother fucker.
For the massage, he was--as always--sore in a million different places in his hind end. He's got previous stifles issues, a mile long back, and he does a lot of dressage work. Massage Lady wasn't concerned with anything out of the ordinary. He was more sore in his neck than usual, but that seemed to show up right after he got vaccinated about two weeks ago. He also likes to play Fighting Giraffes with his pasture mate where they bash each other with their heads and necks so, again, nothing too concerning. She gave his back an A++ though and said his new saddle is perfecto!
|giraffe chomp mark.|
He was still stiff overall in his body after his ride as she watched him go on the longe before working on him. I was bemoaning how tight he's been lately, and she reminded me that this type of weather is the worst for Lyme positive horses. I don't know why I didn't put two and two together and think of that myself. He's had it for so many years now that I guess I just kind of forgot about it. We should have one whole day of warm up this week though. I mean, that's basically spring, right? Ugh, fuck you, New York. I hate you.
|contemplating life after his massage.|
We ran a bunch of errands to round out Saturday, and then Sunday we hooked up the trailer and used it to haul ten million pounds of landscaping timbers home. While it was so conveniently parked in the driveway, I gave it a thorough scrub down both inside and out. I also bossed Hubby around and made him do some quick fixes to it to get it ready for show season. He put a new spare tire on (Hubby loves changing out tires, just ignore all the swearing.), dug out a bolt to secure my saddle rack (ask me how long I've been trying to get him to find me the right size in his super special only he understands organization system), and I had him rip the old western saddle racks out.
The last owner had welded them onto this aluminium sheet and the welds were barely holding. I couldn't actually put anything heavy on there for fear of ripping the thing off the wall. It's hard to find someone to weld aluminium, and they were such a giant waste of space anyway that I said fuck it.
|drilling holes for a second english saddle rack|
higher up and out of the way
It left an ugly strip when it finally came off. We'll put a new sheet of light steel or something there one day, but for now it got smoothed down with the grinder and bandaged with tape. It wouldn't belong to me if it wasn't a least a little bit ghetto.
|much better! just needs the second saddle|
rack put in once it gets here
The rest of the day was spent doing way, waaaaay too much yard work. At least I got my own wheelbarrow out of it? Do I really need my own? Probably not. Did I really want my own. Yes I did.
Today's festivities include painting my kitchen cupboards and a trip to Mendon with the brown stallion. Even if all we can do is walk because the ground is so saturated, neither one of us can do one more day in the indoor.