Caution: Drama Llama Crossing

What a long, shitacular week this has been thus far. Monday was a total fucking wash as I spent all day wandering around the house randomly crying, and I woke up Tuesday feeling like death. I felt progressively better as the morning went on and the meds kicked in so I decided to suck it up and go to the barn. On my way there, I got a speeding ticket. Awesome.

For my ride, I set up a one stride to a two stride (or vice versa), and also set up a vertical with the big barrels under it on the diagnol.

what we ended with.

Bobby went through the line of xrails fine both ways. He started to get a little bull-headed as we progressed, so I moved on to the barrels. He was very polite the first two times, and then he got frazzled when I made him take the time to canter on the correct lead both in front and behind. Then he was not at all polite and I made him trot it. That went well so we tried the canter again. Nope. We turned in towards it and he started doing his canter in place "I'm about to freak the fuck out" routine. Sigh. Really, dude? I let him walk around on the buckle for a few minutes to decompress before trying it at the trot again. He did it fine, so I gave him big pats and ignored it for the rest of the ride.

Now, of course, he was having attitude issues and just waiting for an excuse for a temper tantrum. He was worrying the bit, curling under, and being a general ass. This is exactly why he jumps in an elevator. I would not be able to detach his face from his chest without it. He was being incredibly rude approaching the line, so I made him canter a circle over the striped X a few times to unlock him from the next jump. That settled him some, but when I let him continue on, he obliterated the next two Xs because he wanted to run right through it.

I was hoping we'd be able to get away with working over smaller fences this winter because the indoor is small, but Bobby made it very clear he still has zero respect for anything under 2'6. I knocked the middle jump up to 2'9, kicked the one stride out from 18' to 21', and brought him around yet again. Hmph. What a nice, polite horse. We did it a couple more times and ended there.

He's so pleasant over "bigger" jumps (mostly), and I guess there's no reason for him to be jumping under 2'6, but I'd really like a polite, calm, steady jumping horse no matter the height. He needs to get over himself.

admiring his lady friends.

He was pretty wet, though not warm, when we were done, so I threw his cooler on and sat on a stool in his stall while he dried. The ride must have taken a lot out of him because he abandoned his hay and mosied over to drop his head in my lap and take a snooze. Thanks for the drool spot, Robert. You wish your horse was as classy as mine.

Today was a dressage ride. BM asked how he was doing as we walked out of the barn and I foolishly told her was being a gem on the flat, but a maniac over jumps. She, of course, laughed and said that was hard to imagine. That's the general response I get when I tell people Bobby's difficult to jump. He's such a dope on the ground, even I  don't expect him to be such a tool. But he is. Ohhh, he is.

Today, he felt like being an asshole on the flat, too! Yay!

I threw a pole at X to do circles over and got on. Immediately, I could tell today was going to be a trying ride. He was so fucking lazy. And when he wasn't being lazy, he was being a giraffe. A forward canter got him stepping out a bit, but then he had to have a complete melt down about cantering over the pole. He'd either jump it or step on it. Going to the left, he'd land go over and instantly swap behind. (Yesterday, he was being a brat about swapping to the right.) If he was cantering down the longside or on a circle that wasn't over the pole, he was fine. Whatever, Bobby.

We had a long walk mental break, and picked up the trot again. Well, now he thought we were going to canter so he had to suck back and revert to late winter/early spring Bobby by dropping his back and sticking his face in the air.

AWESOME, BOBBY. I AM HAVING SUCH A NICE RIDE.

Despite feeling like beating his head against the wall, I took many (many) deep breaths and calmly worked through it. Guess what, Bobby? I can carry my hands wherever I please. You have to deal with it. Guess what, Bobby? I'll release the pressure on your giant asshole head if you give me even the slightest inkling you'll lower it.

For an hour ride, which was way longer than I wanted, we walked for probably forty minutes. He overreacted to every little correction or request. We finally finished with a sort of forward trot. On the plus side, his leg yields are installed. This was one of the things he had a temper tantrum about. He got them figured out, so any time we turned down the quarterline, he wanted to do one. I didn't. Sometimes I wanted to work on going straight off the rail. Oh my God, I was clearly trying to kill him.

SUCH. A. DRAMA. QUEEN.

also, his feet are looking fabulous.

Friday, I'm going to set up some bounces. We'll keep working through grids, we'll do work with ground poles, and we'll keep working hard on our dressage to get him more adjustable and balanced over fences. Fingers crossed his friggin' ulcer meds get here one of these days. Drama Llama needs to be medicated!

One Year.

last ride together.

The Rainbow Bridge

By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,
Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.
Where the friends of man and woman do run,
When their time on earth is over and done.
For here, between this world and the next,
Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.
On this golden land, they wait and they play,
Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.
No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,
For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.
Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,
Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.
They romp through the grass, without even a care,
Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.
All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,
Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.
For just at that instant, their eyes have met;
Together again, both person and pet.
So they run to each other, these friends from long past,
The time of their parting is over at last.
The sadness they felt while they were apart,
Has turned into joy once more in each heart.
They embrace with a love that will last forever,
And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

Spring 2006.

Wild Ride.

Sunday is going to be our weekly trail riding day. Mostly because it's the only day we're allowed to ride out during hunting season, but also because I can hitch a free ride from Hubby who drops me off while he checks his traps the next town over.

that's right. that is a opossum in a christmas hat.
hubby is one cool kid. or something.

BO went out with me this time which was awesome because as much as I love trail riding, it's always more fun the more people you take along with you. Especially when the other person is mounted on an equally batty horse.

bo's horse tyler.

They were both pretty good trotting up the first hill, and then we came up the path to the galloping hill and we had a race on our hands. BO was trying to be polite and wait for both of us to get organized, but Tyler was like "We're going to ruuuuun!" and Bobby obviously knows what this hill is all about. I may or may not have gone rogue on us and kicked Bobby into a flat out run without warning. The poor guy's gotta win a race once in awhile! Even with the jump on Tyler, we finished right next to each other. Oh, Robert. Worst racehorse ever. Beaten by a 17yo. slightly crippled Paint. And let us not forget how many times we've been beaten by 21yo. Blackberry.

Tyler was quite insulted Bobby got away from him, so we walked most of the rest of the ride to tell the boys to get over themselves. Neither was happy with that, and we spent almost as much time bouncing up and down and trotting in place than we did walking. Brats.

We had one more canter before heading down a steep hill that Bobby had a lot of problems with this Spring (when he was having problems with everything). Today, he strolled right down it on a loose rein. Both boys seemed to chill out heading home, until we got to the very last path.

Bobby's brain finally broke and his crazies, which he very much internalizes trying to be a good pony, exploded. He started flying backwards until I whalloped him with my legs and let out a growl. BO was like, "What's wrong? What did he do?" Oh, nothing. He just likes to go backwards when he doesn't get his way. He finally got tired of getting kicked in the ribs, so he decided that if I wanted to continue up the path, he'd do that--by spinning around and hopping backwards. Um, no. BO let Tyler run so they could get some forward motion, and I kicked Bobby into a canter, having to beat him forward every step so he didn't get stuck in place.

We schooled a little bit in the indoor so the ponies didn't feel like they had won. He really needs to get his bratty booty out there more than once a week, but that's not going to happen until the spring. I said I wanted him to act more like a nutty Thoroughbred, didn't I?

The butt, and nothing but.

Such a highly inappropriate title, but (lol) I had to do it. Bobby had Thursday and Friday off, so I did another dressage school today. Rolling around in the mud for two days is enough of a mental break between rides to do a repeat.

there's a ghost in bobby's stall!

We wandered around the arena for five or ten minutes while the lesson that was running late finished up, and then we walked for another five minutes. We started out with a bunch of trot-walk transitions, really making sure I kept my leg on so he didn't sputter out and die as soon as we dropped down. It took a few tries, but I finally figured out the right mix of leg and seat without confusing the shit out of poor Robert. "Waaalllk....nope, she means trot. Ah! No, she meant walk! WTF?!"

Then I let him choose his own way of going as we made a bunch of figures between the jumps set up. If he wanted to stretch down and out, we did that. If he got distracted or unbalanced, I picked him back up and we went around with more contact.

We finally brought in the canter from the walk (flawless). I made sure to mind my own business with his front half as my tendency to be grabby and pully probably contributes the most to his on-the-forehand way of going. Instead, I really sat back and used my seat and core to try to bring that far away booty into play.

Holy cow, can this mother fucker move.

He is some fancy when let loose without a rider, but today we finally started bringing enough of the pieces together that he gave a glimpse of what it feels like to ride his fancy pants gaits. He was like a friggin' cloud in the front, and I finally understood what people mean when they say his canter "has jump." I may have drooled a little. And then I may have had to take a break in the middle of the arena and hold my side to try not to die from the cramp there. Yeah, about all that sitting trot? We need to do a lot more. My core is pathetic.

After that most uncomfortable break, we went back to the trot--sitting work this time to focus on that uphill carriage. Sooo fancyyyy. He is so getting this, you guys. I know it's mostly to do with my riding, and I don't mean that in a "pat yourself on the back" sort of way. What I mean is, I'm finally starting to really, really focus on my riding more than his way of going, and his way of going is changing because of it.

We only did a few laps of sitting trot because he was so fucking in tune to every little thing, I asked for a leg yield. I made sure to really organize the both of us as we turned down the quarterline, making sure to keep him straight as his shoulders really like to bulge. I wasn't ready to ask until E, but when I did, he did the dreamiest leg yield I have ever ridden on any horse. I watched us in the mirror as we slipped back onto the rail and I couldn't bring him back to the walk fast enough before throwing my arms around his neck.

You could not have whiped that silly grin off my face for anything.

The canter.

An update on the Christmas lights:

I made Hubby write out a note saying thanks, but no thanks and he hung both lights and note on their mailbox this morning. Hubby asked why he had to write out the note. Really, Hubby? Do you know how espionage even works? I can't be traced back to these lights. "Lights, Anal Neighbor? Hm, no, I don't know what you're talking about. Hubby must have seen to that. Why, no--I wasn't home yesterday when you knocked."

Bobby's clip job is even worse than I remember. It looks like someone tried to clip him with dull scissors. It's so awful, I think I'm going to have to tidy it up this weekend.

We went up to the outdoor to avoid the lesson in the indoor, and also because I wanted to ride outside, and also because it was sloppy and I want Bobby schooled to a T (what does that saying even mean?) on all footing for next season. He didn't seem the least bit concerned with splashing through puddles or going through the deeper spots. He did seem concerned with the pile of remaining jumps stacked in the middle of the arena. After he had a looksie, he ignored them. Much better than trying to jump them, the tool.

I overestimated my walk warmup and we had a few laps of awful trot before I brought him back and spent some more time walking and bending and softening his jaw. After that, our trot work was golden. He's really picking up on the uphill trot super quickly. If I make a point to ride correctly--which should go without saying, but this is me after all--he's makes a point to try really hard to get the concept.

We finished with a big jag of canter work--his first since vacation ended. He tried to take off with me when we first started. Cold, windy day after warm weather + newly clipped horse + cantering in a big area = Yeehaw! I sorted him out and he gave me some really solid work, including the most amazing canter to walk transition ever.

It was purely by chance that I asked for a downward transition at exactly the right time, but of course I couldn't leave well enough alone. Let's work on walk-canter-walk transitions! We didn't get a singe one without a few trot steps coming back into the walk, but I think by the end of winter, he'll be able to knock these out pretty easily.

hanging on the bridge while i set up my camera to video.
the video was an epic failure where we rarely made an appearance.

Red and Bobby both picked up on walk to canter transitions pretty seamlessly. That is, once they both learned what cantering even was. Red could halt, back, and canter off like it was his job last year, but Bobby's not quite there yet. However, he really steps right into the canter like it's no big. Once in the canter though, he's still so heavy on the forehand. First time doing real canter work in awhile makes it excusable, but it's something we're really going to have to work on.

foamy face!
my camera made the coloring come out so weird.

The amazing news is that not once did he swap behind while working! Even in the deep, churned up ground and sloppy puddles, he maintained the correct lead at all times. Finally! Body work has paid off!

I should probably stick to ponies.

I have a quick confession to make that's doubtless going to make me sound like an idiot. Nothing new to read here, right?

I had glanced at the clock in my car right before I pulled onto our street coming home from the barn. It was a few minutes before noon which I absently took note of. I let the dogs out, went inside, washed my hands, and spooned out some left-over chili for lunch. Punched in three minutes on the microwave and wandered away. I drifted past the microwave shortly after and glanced at the numbers.

"Hm. It's already 2:09. How did it get so late?"

And I totally thought nothing of it until the timer beeped and I opened the door to clear the "Food Ready" message. It's now 12:03? How....?

Dear Self:

Should that story not impress you, or at least cause you to shake your head sadly, I have another one for you.

Yesterday morning, I was in the shower. (The is pertinent to the story, you guys. I'm not oversharing.) I heard someone knock on the door and the dogs sounded the Invader! alarm. I was basically like, "Uh...oh, well. I have one leg covered in shaving cream and half a pound of conditioner in my hair." But this knocking was fucking insistent! I finally relented by rinising off my leg, piling my slimy hair into a bun, and pulling on my ridiculous Chicago Bulls pajama bottoms and my hot pink bathrobe. Because I am classy and that's all I had in the bathroom with me. Judge all you want.

By then, the emergency that warranted such frantic knocking must have been over because no one was at either door. I jumped back in the shower, rinsed the conditioner out my hair, and resigned myself to having one wooly mammoth-like leg and one silky smooth one until the next day. I didn't want to be caught off guard should the neighborhood be on fire or something.

Finally, once I was dressed in my new normal people clothes (which included a t-shirt because it was so warm out yesterday), I checked the doors to see if anyone had left a note on the door. Erm, no, but there was a big Sears bag hanging off the front door. I looked warily out of the windows to see if anyone was lurking, and snatched the bag inside.

In it were several strands of white christmas lights. I knew instantly who the culprit was: our anal neighbor (AN). AN and his wife apparently think our four house road in rural Pennsylvania is a gated community. There are rules and traditions that must be followed, including only putting white christmas lights up on your house, and no earlier than Dec. 1st. Now, clearly I do not actually live in a gated community. I live in the middle of a fucking corn field. Literally. This ostentatious asshole is on some power trip to rule the community.

However, we did put up white christmas lights this year:

on our fucking chicken house, dick.

I don't like how our house looks decorated in lights and I didn't feel like going through the hastle of putting them up. So Hubby and I bumped our redneck fists and decided the chickens would carry us this year.

Well, apparently that does not meet gated community standards!

I promptly hung the bag back up on the front door and called Hubby to share in the complete absurdity of the situation. He suggested spelling out "Fuck you" in lights. I mean, in all honesty, what  do  you do? I am literally at a loss of what to say to this guy.

So the next day (being today) I went to the barn early and spent my sweet time there, relishing being out of the neighborhood. I came back, ate my chili at noon and not two, and then a sudden realization dawned on me--what do I say when he comes back? Because he will come back.

I grabbed a book and sought sanctuary in the bedroom. About an hour later, I heard it--a knock on the door. I froze as the dogs jumped off the bed and sounded the Invader! alarm once again. And then I did what any nonconfrontational, slightly anxiety-ridden hermit would do.

I pulled the covers over my head and thought up excuses on why I was hiding in bed when the person knocking on the door strolled into my house uninvited. Because apparently this was a real concern at the time.

I was not meant to interact with society.

I'll give you a riding post later.

Sunday.

First, some good news. My friend's pony Plato got to go home yesterday! He's been under care for a sand impaction colic for nearly a full month. Go, Plato!

Sunday was mid-sixties weather. No big! Hubby found the clippers and we bought new blades for them. Sprayed some WD-40 on them and greased them up with the last of my Oster oil. Pulled Bobby out, switched clippers on, put the blades to his yak coat, and....

Nothing.

Gah! BO was nice enough to look at them really quickly. She tightened the tension a bit, but that did nothing. She said I'd probably just have to soak them a day in oil. I hate clippers. I don't hate clipping, but I hate clippers. I was so pissed at them, I decided to forgoe clipping until Hubby came back and go out on a trail ride.

"there iz monsters EVERYWHERE!"

When was the last time Bobby's been out on the trails? Mm, no clue. Before our last show which was at the end of October; at least a month. He. Was. Wired.

He gave the hairy eye ball to some trees that had been cut down and pushed off to the side of the trail that hadn't been there the last time we were out. He gave the hairy eye ball and a few sideways steps over the "bridge" that covers the culvert pipes (it's really just leveled out ground). And then! Then!! We saw it. A log that used to be over the path. Bobby has jumped this log. Bobby has walked past this log after it got cut down and moved aside. But today it was going to kill him.

We had a solid five minute fight about getting past it. Wheeling around, running backwards, and snorting before I finally gave him a serious Pony Club kick and he cantered by it, scooting sideways towards the woods. Only what was right ahead of us? ANOTHER LOG! Ahhhh!!!!

Once we cantered by that, scooting sideways the other direction, I made him trot on. We trotted 95% of the ride. Every time we tried to come back to the walk, he found something to have a mega spook about.

Trotting seemed to take care of most of the issues, but we did have one moment where he tried to break into a gallop down one of the paths that I usually let him run down. I pulled him back so his front end stopped, but the back end didn't and he tripped over his own feet and fell right on his nose. That, of course, was cause for a scoot, buck, and another attempt at galloping forward. Two thrumbs up for my trusty, foot perfect event horse. Or not.

We spooked at pretty much everything, trotting or not, on our way back. Bobby's spooks are pretty lame, but he was putting in some effort Sunday. We finally made it back to the driveway soaking wet.

Needless to say, it was awesome! I love working with Thoroughbreds and all the silliness that entails. Bobby finally showed some OTTB crazies, and I loved every minute of it.

so sweaty...
and thinking about spooking at tyler and simon.

I threw his cooler on and played with Sunny and Sue who were posing with a Santa hat. Of course Bobby and I had to get in on that.

Bobby's so used to people playing with his giant donkey ears, he had no issues with me slinging the hat over his head--especially not when there were cookies on hand.

He was dry enough in some spots to clip, so once again, I borrowed a pair of BO's blades and started the abuse. Bobby's such a chill dude on the ground. He stood like a statue the whole time. He couldn't see what I was up to, of course, otherwise he would have been trying to run. Dirty, sweaty horse? Not a good idea for clipping! He has track marks up the wahzoo, but we're not going anywhere so I don't really care. Give it some time and he'll look lovely. Maybe.

I uncovered some gross skin funk on his shoulders, so I gave him a Microtek bath afterwards. That, my friends, is how you clip completely bass-ackwards.