Oh Lawdy

Can we move back to Pennsylvania yet? I'm so over New York. Not that I was ever down with it anyway, but the fact that it snowed every fucking day last week, and thought about having an encore Monday morning is not okay.

NOT OKAY.

trudging through the mud from the melting snow.
NOT OKAY.

So the move is officially over. At least I hope so. We have the interwebs now, so my life can go on even if there are a few boxes that need to be sorted through still. INTERWEBS IS MOST IMPORTANT.

My giant bay donkey got moved as planned nearly two weeks ago. We got to the barn at eight, and I barely refrained from being a big sobbing mess saying goodbye to my barn family. I plan on going back down for a few days in July for the rodeo and one of the camps. I need to finish the rest of Bobby's costumes after all, and BO has pledged herself to help.

Bobby and Memphis said their goodbyes with some bittersweet face licks courtesy of our favorite Dutch Hippo, and then we headed out for the new trailer's first loaded adventure with us. Hubby was like, "I hope he goes on this." Psh, Hubby. Please.

Bobby rounded the turn in the driveway and proceeded to drag me very rudely towards his open chariot. I actually had to get very rude back to get him to stop before he dragged us both right into the still latched butt bar. Bobbys love adventures, especially if it means the jumping and the running.

Of course he didn't know he'd be standing on the thing for five hours with no jumping or running at the other end. Worst road trip ever!

surveying the new grounds

I followed along behind in the car with our two kitties, one who whom went right to sleep and didn't make a peep the whole ride. The other one spent the five hours continuously yowling to be freed so he could puke on my seats. Nice try, fat cat. You shut your mouth.

Bobby alternated napping, playing with his hay net, and occasionally actually eating his hay instead of just flinging it through the air. He is the best at traveling.

When we were finally able to unload him, he wasn't too impressed with these horse show grounds. He refused to enter the barn and stood there like a good mule staring around him for nearly ten minutes. After a long stop and start process, I finally got him in his stall so he could pee and get unwrapped before going out to his temporary isolation paddock.

That, at least, was uneventful. He sniffed around, rolled in the dirt, drank some water, and started eating his hay. Seriously the best at traveling.

A couple days later, he got turned out in the "big" paddock (coming from a twelve acre turnout field, nothing looks big up here) with three other geldings. They walked him around for all of thirty seconds before getting bored and playing halter tag with each other. Bobby ate some stubbly grass and ignored them.

just doing donkey stuff.

I haven't seen any of the other horses go yet. I've run into a couple of people as they're coming or going, but I've mostly been flying solo. No doubt these people are loaded enough to just have pretty ponies sitting in a field if they wanted.

Last weekend, Hubby and I walked out of the barn to find my thirteen year old Saturn sandwiched between an Escalade and a brand new Camaro.  When I got done riding Tuesday, I'd been joined by a shiny black Range Rover.

Is that downsizing? Upsizing?

I'll tell you what it is: boarding too close to Rochester proper.

Maybe I'm still feeling bitter about how badly we're being raped on rent for our house, and how I could go snag a couple of racetrack ponies from Fingerlakes to let stand in a field and look pretty if my soul hadn't been used as collateral for the security deposit.

dear leg, let's get married. i love you.

As a whole though, the few people I've met have been very polite. I wouldn't say friendly because they simply do the little closed mouth smile thing, say hello, and scamper away. The woman who does stalls is very friendly though, and she's the only one I've carried on a conversation with that was more than, "How did you come to live here? What part of Pennsylvania are you from? Okay, bye."

Although twice now I've also experienced this:

I say "Eventer" and they say, "I've been to the Genesee Valley Hunt races! They're amazing."

And then I say, "Well. That's very cool…but totally not the same thing."

Speaking of, our dressage is perhaps not as fancy as it could be since the indoor looks into Bobby's turnout, but hot damn is my horse acting like he's been trained to go over fences without killing anyone.

What. A. Concept.

He's been relaxed, attentive, adjustable, and just downright rideable. I actually came into a small bounce over the weekend, half halted a little with my shoulders, and he came back to a trot. I had to leg my horse on to canter the last stride!

Such magic.

He hasn't been backing off of course, he's just tuning me in instead of tuning me out. Yay for him trusting that sometimes I might know what the fuck is going on!

Of course it might help that my position is mother fucking on point lately. Srsly. My leg, it's like, "Imma be there for you" and my arms are like, "Imma go forward with dis horse, yeah?"

We're all one big happy jumping family.

To celebrate, or just to get the fucking ball moving here, we're doing a CT (dressage and stadium only, non-eventers) at Novice next Saturday in Geneseo. I thought about sticking on a Training stadium round, but I'm going to be flying solo since Hubby has to work, and I don't want any extra pressure added on to that.

There's a H/J show the weekend after that that I hope to go do the 3'-3'3" jumper division at, but we'll see what the money situation is. And from there? Who knows! I hate New York! I hate New York shows! Fuck you, New York!