This means war.

Dear fleas,

I will defeat you.

Sincerely,

Woman wielding arm-loads of flea bombs.

We have set off eighteen flea bombs since we've been home. Between them and the newly blacktopped road, things are smelling pretty awful around here. Hubby and I got out of the house for a couple hours last night to take a visit to the ER to get a Prednisone shot and a week's prescription of pills for my poisin ivy. My throat was starting to burn and I knew I couldn't get by with Benadryl and Coritsone anymore. There's nothing quite like itching inside and out while battling fleas in your house to make you feel like taking on the world!

rejected. the mares didn't lift their heads once.

Wednesday has officially been designated Trot Sets Day. I got out to the barn at 8:30 and it was an awesome 75 degrees out. Bobby was being a monster the whole time--in a good way. The loop I took last week that I timed at five minutes only took us four today. He was in the bridle and pushing off like a downright beast. I actually had to give him a few half halts to keep him from getting too quick. Next week I'll add in another set of trotting. This week I added in another set of canter just to see if I could get him to breathe hard because the trotting wasn't doing it.

I don't know what it is, but these past two times I've felt so secure in my half seat when cantering, whether going uphill or even downhill. I feel like I'm levitating above my saddle and if I wanted to drop my reins and stick my arms out, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. I have no clue where this awesomeness has come from, but I'm not going to analyze it too much in fear of it going away! I did have a few moments where I had to remind myself to pull my shoulders back to keep myself balanced when going downhill, but overall Bobby and I both had a good rhythm with little effort.

We did have one moment passing between the banks downhill that I was focusing on staying back and quiet while keeping my leg on because last week Bobby broke to a trot to get down the same part of the hill. Well, this week he was determined to canter and I was determined to stay in my newfound solid position and neither one of us noticed the pile of sand that Bobby then tripped over and fell flat on his face. I muttered a "Dammit" at missing the stupid pile and Bobby hopped back up and carried on like nothing happened. This is a huge improvement from when I first started riding when I probably would have pulled him up to puke down his shoulder.

I let the beastly boy pick his own pace up the last hill on our last set and he galloped up it like the Thoroughbred he sometimes is. That finally got him blowing, but by the time we'd mosied on down to the bottom of the hill (a five minute walk), he was in fine form again. I'm curious to know what his heart rate is during this conditioning work because he's really not breathing hard at all--especially for a very mild roarer that had to be retired for bleeding so heavily. Add a HR monitor to my wish list....