Should I Post?

What should I write about? My mother's puppy named Lucy, who torments me but who I am trying every day to love? About my new car that is not an SUV but that does have very sexy tires? Should I write about the fiasco that was procuring them? The boy I had to flirt with shamelessly to get those tires?

Should I write about how my mother broke her toe underneath a horse? Should I write about the vacation I took from riding when my hopes and dreams began to fall apart at the end of February? Should I write about how, when my vacation from riding horses turned into a hiatus, I decided not to return to riding?

Should I write about how I feel like I'm missing a leg without riding but at the same time I'm so very, very happy about my decision? Should I write about how, every time someone asks me if I've quit, I feel like screaming "Yes, I've quit, because my fucking horse is dead!" Maybe that would be overkill, but maybe it would get people to stop asking.

Maybe instead I should write about the little boy I used to work with, and how I fought and fought to be allowed to still visit him every week. Maybe I should write about how every now and then, when I'm on one of those visits I fought to get, he looks into my eyes and the entire world is cured of its ills because he smiles at me. That's all it takes.

I could write about work but it would bore you to tears, so I won't even go there.

Should I write about my beautiful guitar that hung on my wall for about four years never being touched? About how I quit touching that guitar due to a burst of stage fright I had one night, which was when I quit playing and singing?



Maybe I should talk about getting back on stage again. How my anxiety is more related to fixing my hair before a performance than the performance itself.



I could equally write about how I've begun to sing and write music again. I've been playing my guitar until the unfortunate souls I live with have begged me to please, please shut up so they could have a moment's peace. I could write about the vocal lessons I've signed up for and the record label my vocal coach has recommended me to. I could write about the band I auditioned to sing with last week and how they emailed me again for a call-back. (Or is it a callback?)

I honestly think about writing on this blog every single day. I've no idea how to start or where to start.

I figure that a good place to start would be a picture of me doing what has currently captured my soul.

I Just Can't Believe I'm Here...

My life has become fantastic all of a sudden and I'm not sure what to do with it. (That is not to say that my life has not always been fantastic but certain stressors have existed over the past few years that have left me feeling rather overwhelmed).

I want to run screaming through the streets about how everything has turned out. I have finally landed that job that I thought I would never, ever get.

Sargeant and I had another ride tonight and I can't get over how well I'm doing with him. While I do enjoy Sargeant he is a little... well, he's a little powerful. He's kinda strong. He likes to go and leave me feeling like a passenger waiting for him to slow down, only he doesn't really slow down of his own free will.

Since my lesson a week ago I've been working on our transitions and I can't get over how well we are doing with them. I haven't been turning into a terrified slab of jelly on his back every time he does something and when I have a ride like I had tonight, I feel like I am on top of the world.

I am just so excited. I am excited to start living my life the way I wanted to live it, the way I've been craving to live for the past several years. I get to ride, I get to sleep at home every night, I get to sit on my couch, I get to socialize when I want to socialize.

I also have my own living room now that the Clifford Cave has been rejuvinated. Yesterday I gave Dixie a Thanksgiving bath, thinking that I would be thankful for a Beagle who doesn't smell like a combination of the creek, fish, mud, decomposing raccoon (Her favorite thing to roll in), and barn. I washed her thoroughly, starting out with dog shampoo and then giving up because it just wasn't cutting it. I then proceeded to wash my Beagle using Pantene shampoo and conditioner and OH MY WORD. Her hair has never shone so brightly.

After Dixie's bath, I used the blow dryer on her which left her feeling less than impressed. After that, however, I invited her for a nap with me in the Clifford cave and we curled up together, in all of her glorious smelling goodness, and slept the way a Beagle and the person who loves her should.

Things are looking pretty good.

A Golden Opportunity...

I went to a party the other night with all the other riders at my barn. (Well, my mother and I are both riding at the same barn, so I suppose it is 'our' barn). At this party was my present coach, and I happened to mention something about showing horses to her. The mention of riding competitively was done in an offhand manner and between shots of tequila so I certainly never thought that too much would come of it.

Two days later I was at the barn for my usual Monday night ride on Sargeant and his owner came to me while I was having my pre-ride smoke. She just walked in and said "Are you going to show Sargeant for me next year?"

Am I going to? The first thought in my mind was, Am I allowed to show Sargeant? Obviously her question answered my question in the affirmative.

Of course the only thing I could say was yes: Yes! I want to ride, I want to be on a horse in public, I want to try my hand and mastering some real skill.

Before Zydeco died, I always thought it was a slap in the face to him for me to be riding another horse. I will never love another horse the way I loved him. I will always cherish everything about that horse. I miss his face every single day.

But here I have an opportunity that I never had with Zydo: He couldn't show at recognized shows because of his arthritis.

Sargeant can. The conversation went on about whether we would do silver level or not, and there was some debate over whether I need the experience of a couple low-level shows before I move on to the big times.

I then tacked up Sargeant and rode him for all he was worth. And this part sounds stupid but this is what I was doing: I was listening to a caller in my head, calling out the moves as I rode them, practicing perfect form and wondering what it would be like to do so in white breeches for a crowd.

I'm soon to be out of work which has really, really gotten me down. But while that opportunity has shut its doors, this opportunity has come knocking and I feel like, in equestrian respects at least, I've landed on the moon.

Not Another Horse!

So, Princess and I made leaps and bounds through the months of June and July. I was so proud of us!

However, I work at an insane job and as a result, my hours are insane. This interferes with riding time and another woman also is riding Princess three days a week. Not wanting to interfere with her riding times (Because I know how precious riding time is) I inquired as to whether or not she would be willing to change her schedule.

She seemed like she wanted to accomodate me, but really, she wants to keep her riding days.

And then the lovely owner of the lovely Princess stepped in and said, "Amanda, why don't you try out Sargeant?"

And I said "Sure!"

And now I'm in really, really big trouble.

Because I kind of love Sargeant. I love his colour and his build and his gender (I'm sorry to be sexist on my blog, but I really prefer a gelding to a mare. That's just me) and I also like his delightful personality.

Oh, and his movement, since this whole thing is not about a love affair and is actually about riding.

I'm going to call him Sargy-Pargy-Pumpkin-Pie and I am really, really going to master the three loop serpentine on this guy.

It is the times like these that I feel like I am on my way to being a rider. A real rider doesn't just ride one horse. A real rider has experience with a multitude of horses. A real rider can handle what all the different horses throw their way. A real rider learns something from each horse they ride, and applies it to the next horse to build their skills.

I don't know if I'll make any shows this summer or this fall. I don't know if I'll ever ride competitively.

But I do know that I am on my way to something here, even if I don't know what, exactly, that something is.

I Want To Feel Like That Again...

Two weeks ago, I rode Princess. After two lessons with a new coach and much fight on my part, Princess and I finally came together as one. We were flowing, we were on the bit, we were working our best.

We achieved that which riding is all about: A partnership and an understanding. I was sweating furiously by the end of it all, soaking through my tank-top and my six hundred dollar George Schumacker breeches.

At the end of our miraculous ride, I was able to cool her out, long and low. There is nothing better than cooling out long and low, when horse and rider are moving forward with impulsion and are happy together. There is no relaxation in the world like cooling out, long and low. I don't care what kind of masseuse you have or what kind of pharmaceuticals you take: Cooling out long and low is the most relaxing and exhilirating thing in the world.

After the ride, I wanted to cry again. (Something leads me to believe that all riding successes and failures this year will result in tears. Tears because I'm happy that I can do it on another horse, and so very, very sad that I am not doing it on Zydeco, my one true horse.)

But, there were people all around and I had no desire to expose those poor, innocent souls to the emotion-ful-ness (Is there a word I could use there?) of my riding.

And so, like after so many other good rides, I cracked open a beer and smoked a cigarette, going over the ins and outs of the ride with my mother (Who, despite what I may say, remains my one true coach.)

The following rides were not as successful on Princess but I have been left with this: There is hope. Hope that another horse can teach me the way Zydo did, hope that I can continue riding and hone some skills. Hope that another horse may one day be mine who will fill the void that only a horse person can understand is there.

On Having a Blistered Ass

Our first ride together was spent weeping. Rides after that were both successful and unsuccessful. I have put more blood, sweat, and tears into this new horse than I care to think of at this point in time, but hey! That's what the sport is about! Right?

Anyone?

Right?

*crickets*

Riding this new horse has blistered my ass. I am not making this up, this new horse I have a lease on caused an enormous, loonie-sized blister to pop up on my butt. Quite the uncomfortable situation to be in when sitting at an important meeting with a bunch of important big-wigs and you need to shift your position. And then you cry. Because your fancy pants and the chair you are in has opened the blister again. And the big-wigs are looking at you oddly but there is a lesion on your ass that causes you immense pain while sitting in an important meeting.

The thing about an ass blister is that it is ever-present. I have tried every variety of underpants I can think of to stop the rubbing on this ass-blister of mine and it continues to plague my life.

Poor Mal, all the way out there in Newfoundland, getting random texts about the blister on my ass. I feel for her. I really do.

I've been riding for over a week since the blister occurred and every time I do something, the blister is upset again and refuses to heal.

So, this new horse, this delightful Princess and I are working together and we have had a great number of successes together.

This ass blister though? The ass blister is not creating a great amount of happiness within me.

I'm working on it.

Weeping Uncontrollably

Now That Zydeco is back home and unable to stand any exertion, I have taken a lease on a lovely little quarterhorse named Princess. The next chance I get, I'm running straight to the saddle store and buying a ridiculous amount of pink brushes, because every horse named Princess should have pink brushes.

I've had my eye on Princess since I started at the barn because she is the perfect horse for me. On the plus side, she is kind of petite, and I've always wanted to try out a petite horse to see how I feel. My long, limbering legs might look a little silly, but I like being that much closer to the ground.

So, I got on Princess for the first time yesterday. She stood at the mounting block and I was oh so very happy because Zydeco does not stand at the mounting block. He's a bit of an asshat that way.

And then I proceeded to ride Princess with much success. She was wonderful and I have to say that there is a lot to be said for a horse with a nice, dainty trot as opposed to a horse like Zydo. His trot will throw you to the moon if you're not careful.

We continued our ride and I tried to do a few of the things I would normally do with Zydo and they didn't happen and I felt a little weepy. But I perservered.

Then Princess tried some tricks, just to see what I would do. And I dealt with them and felt a little more sad because I always know what to expect with Zydo's tricks. But this is a new horse.

So I carried on. And then Princess went sideways and tossed her head hither and yon. This is not the end of the world, just a mare testing out a new rider and I should know this and accept this.

But I burst into tears nonetheless because Princess was doing things that Zydo doesn't do to me any more.

I tried to pull myself together. I really, really did. I was here on Princess, the lovely little mare who I've always wanted to ride. She is very pretty to look at and quite well trained. She is sound, sane, and very, very fit. She has great feet, a beautiful mane, and a little sock on one of her hind legs.

But Princess is not Zydeco. And Zydeco is the one that I love and I couldn't help but think how unfair it is that we couldn't have one more year, one more kick at the can, one more go together.

I cried and cried and tried to make it look like I wasn't crying, which makes a crying situation even worse.

My mother came out to coach for the last twenty minutes of my ride. We had some very functional trot on the bit, some very good work. I did sitting trot, which I could never do on Zydo because of his bounciness, and I aced it. I aced a lot of things in that ride, actually.

And then I sat down for my post-ride smoke and tears just kept on escaping me.

Because my horse, the horse that I love, the one that I want has chips of bone floating around in his knee.

And I knew this. I'll say it again, I knew it. I knew it when I first laid eyes on a picture on the Internet. I knew that the horse had arthritis and that one day we would not be working together any more.

I'm riding Princess again tomorrow. I have very specific goals for our second ride: Do not cry. Do not weep. Do not scare the other riders at the barn with my crying and weeping. Be eternally grateful that despite the fact I can't ride my horse, I do have a very fit and sound horse at my disposal to learn from and to master.

This whole thing, I've decided, is going to be a mighty process. I knew three years ago that I would have to go through this process and so this is my beginning.

Fearless.

Just because the course has changed doesn't mean our theme song has to as well.

Oh, Didn't I Tell You??

My father purchased his mare, Darq Lucretia, three and a half years ago.

At the time I was away at university, studying to become a wonderful Sociologist who would go on to do great things with her life. In the meantime, I was working at The SubShack and when I found out about Tia's presence in our lives, I immediately went to all my coworkers and told them how I was going HOME that weekend and I would get to ride a HORSE.

For the first time in years! I would be back in the saddle!

My father informed me that, no, I would not be riding his horse and I was momentarily heartbroken. Because, really, Do you know who I am?

And then my father went out on his first ride with Tia. It took my brother's assistance to hold her while my father got on and then they sped down the driveway in a flurry of feet flying and tail swooshing and I was all like, Dude, I am not getting on that horse.

Because Tia was kind of nutso. Not gonna lie, the girl had some issues. Before we got Zydo, six months after Tia's arrival here at The Ranch, Tia couldn't even go outside by herself because this big old world is just that scary.

I haven't since asked my father to get on his horse because I do not believe in interfering with the training others are putting in to a green horse. I don't believe that he should set back his progress with her in any way to please me, and as a result, our dearest Darq Lucretia has never been backed by yourse truly.

Until now.

Tia has grown as a horse since her arrival here. Sure, she has had her share of flipouts and hysteria. Sure, I used to call her The Dancing Queen. Yep, she is petrified if you carry a plastic bag by her stall and she will very much try to escape through the solid wall should you make a crinkling sound in her doorway. Once every three years, she will even try to kick you. (Or me.)

But she has also become phenomenally sweet. She is the horse people turn to when they come in our barn, not Zydo. She is the one people want to pet and kiss the nose of because she is just so darn lovable, that little grey mare. She is beautiful and curious and just so willing to pick her feet up should you ask.

And so, this past weekend, we were outside with Tia and her baby, and I couldn't help but notice how absolutely calm she has become. Dead quietness.

And I rubbed on her back, leaned up on her, and I thought for a brief moment, What if I were to hop on?

And then I realized, wait.

I can't get on a horse. I need a mounting block and a full ground crew to mount any horse and I demanded that my father come and place me on his horse's back. I love this first photo because of the "Oh, for fuck's sake" expression on my dad. Like, really this chick is 25 years old and she can't get on a damn horse? Really?



And then I was suddenly on our dearest Darq Lucretia's back and while I was kind of nervous, waiting for her to bolt or spin or throw in a buck, I really thought, Hey! What's the worst that can happen?



And then my father led myself and Tia down the driveway and I thought for a brief moment that this was how I started out 24 years ago. I was 18 months old and being led by this same man down this same driveway, past those same maple trees on a horse named Gentleman Jim Dandy. I remember the first time I trotted on Jim, down that driveway. I was five or six, and I was scared. My father told me that there was no time like the present to try it out. Jim and I trotted with great success that day and I bobbled around like a rag doll on top of that enormous horse with a grin on my face that I'm sure you could have seen from the moon.




So, here we are. Twenty five years later? Or three years later?

I'm not sure.

But my father finally let me ride his mare, that delightful grey little thing who is just so sweet you want to pick her up and put her in your pocket. I've always had an affinity for Tia because of who she is: A defiant little creature who states very clearly what her needs are. A lovely little thing who can be a beautiful mover if she wants to be. The one who brought my father home a ribbon the first time he competed with her because when it comes to, she really can do what needs to be done.

And also the one who brought us the next generation of riding:



I've told my mother that the theme song for this year is Taylor Swift's "Fearless". You should go and listen to it right now, really.

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless.

I Just Don't Know What I Want...

And I also just don't know how much of my blog titles I should put in capitals. This is something that weighs on my mind every time I write. Sigh.

There is so much that I want to do with my time and my life and I just can't make up my mind. I want to live elsewhere, and then I want to stay at home. I want to embark on a higher level degree than the one I have, and then I never want to look at another text book again. I want to find a new job, but I tend to think I should stay where I am. I want to ride competitively and then I want to just wander aimlessly in my yard.

My financial woes are starting to really keep me down. Zydeco's vet bills this year have been far higher than they have ever been, thanks to a miracle cure for his arthritis I decided to try. I couldn't afford the third treatment and so my mother so graciously offered to pay it as a gift to me and my horse. I'm behind on paying back my riding ring debt as well as a shoe-ing that Zydeco had, and I hate being behind in owing people money.

I haven't paid nearly as much of my JEEP off as I'd like to have paid. I've made much more than the minimum payments on it and for that I'm very proud; however, because I also decided to try and save paying interest on my student loans I'm paying a large chunk of each paycheck to either the vehicle or the student loan. As a result of this, the actual amount of money I have each month is very low.

I have the goal of having three courses completed by December 31st; however, I have no idea where the money will come from for this. I can put it on a line of credit or a credit card but the idea of going further into debt makes my heart stop. Momentarily, at least.

So this is where my life is at. I'm wondering all the time if each choice I make related to finances, school, work and my horse is the right choice and how whatever choice I make is giong to affect future choices.

And then I start to feel overwhelmed and I'll go outside and stand beside my horse or take a drive in my JEEP with the music playing far too loud, and I think that perhaps maybe everything will find a way to work out in the end.

Happy Sixth Hundredth Post, Blog...

Zydeco and I had our first lesson of the season today. And oh, what a time we had.



We are currently working without the aid of a fenced in riding area and he has learned a neat little trick called "When she asks me to work, I simply run up onto the driveway."

For the first time in two years of working with Zydeco, I actually thumped him in the ribs while he was trying to escape my efforts. I can honestly say that I have never punished my horse before today. Those around me were thrilled that I have finally taken control of a situation and said what's what. I felt a little bit bad but did not enjoy the sensation of being stampeded into the trees across from the ring, so I don't feel too guilty.

Zydeco and I celebrated our first lesson of the season with quite the feat as well: Our first square halt.



Does the above horse have two legs, or four?

Oh, the dressage-y glory. Hopefully more framed work and square halts will follow through the season.

It has arrived....

After many arduous hours working away at the ring, it is complete.



We had to rent a tractor, which was a process in and of itself and I'm sure will become a post in and of itself. I am basking in joy right now and will not weigh down this post with my anger at the difficulties involved in renting a tractor in this county.



Both tractors worked in harmony to finish the ring in a record of about five hours. In all, it didn't take as long as we thought it would, but it was a long day for those out actually doing the work.

By six p.m. tonight, I was on the back of my magnificent Thoroughbred, having the ride of a lifetime. I was a little bit scared as this was the first time Zydo had someone on him since he hurt himself, but he never blinked or took a sore step.



This is what I continue to love about Zydeco, his willingness to go on and go forward regardless of what is keeping him back. I was only able to trot him for a very short period of time and I physically had to fight him to get him back into a walk. He just wants to work and work, and is very rarely crazy about it.

He was a peach the whole time I rode, never stepping a foot out of line. I could have wept in joy for how glad I was to be upon his fine back once more. Really. A tear nearly escaped me.



And now the real fun begins. Now I can ride every day at MY HOUSE. I don't have to drive an hour to get to my horse like I did last summer, or fight to get through fields of hay or worry about oncoming traffic while riding on the road. The amount of freedom I feel in all this is overwhelming: I honestly feel like I can do anything I want without a single limit.

The first task will be to get my fat, lazy horse in shape enough to be ridden for any length of time. After that, the world is my oyster.

Oh, the Sand-y Glory...

LOOK!



My horse is alive and moving!

And now, LOOK at this...



In celebration of my horse still being alive, we've decided to take the plunge and actually make a place for me to ride him.

Here is me on top of some of the sand we ordered.



I could be riding MY horse on MY farm in MY ring in a matter of days....

There isn't a receptacle big enough on this Earth to contain my excitement.

Winter Blahs and Riding Hurrahs...

I hate winter.

I detest the short days, the blowing snow, the infinite coldness, the dark, and the despicable driving conditions.

But.

Here we are in February. I've noticed that last week or so that the sun has a newer, different quality to it. It has joined us for longer periods of time each day, and it just feels... Good. I feel alive.

And part of being alive, when you're me, is to ride.



I have an entire collection of winter riding gear, from head to toe. I've purchased a new coat this year that was designed specifically for winter riding. It is super light, fitted at the waist, has a tonne of shoulder and arm room, and a bum flap! So you don't pull on your shoulders sitting on your coat! It outdoes the plaid jackets I was riding in last year by leaps and bounds. AND it is waterproof and windproof.



Zydeco has had two months off, which I firmly believe he deserved more than any horse in the world. He worked hard last summer, harder than he's likely worked in a few years. He went down in girth sizes, he muscled up like a body builder, he had the best condition I've seen on a horse in some time. He almost lost his leg at one point, and recovered swiftly enough to show off for a fourth level dressage rider and take me to my first ever dressage test. And, Hell, let's not forget the FIRST and SECOND place ribbons he allowed me to bring home.

The boy deserved a break.

And despite his two month break, he still remembered the fine art of maintaining my weight on his back while keeping his nose DOWN! What a guy!



I only rode for a short period today, because I didn't want to kill him on his first day out. He stood like an angel while I got on, took off at a fast paced walk for about twenty seconds, and then said: "Yes? What is it you would like me to do for you today?" He's like a high class maitre'd some days.

And damn, do I love him for it.

Sports Highlights

Zydeco and I entered our first show today. We went with my coach's daughter who was riding Stetson. The intention was to compete in a class in equitation, and two dressage tests. Zydo put up quite a fuss about getting into the trailer, such that I leaned up against the truck, plugged my ears with my thumbs and covered my eyes with my hands.

We arrived too late to enter into my equitation class because of the fit that Zydo had over loading. We (and by we, I mean everyone who went to the show EXCEPT me) spent close to forty five minutes fighting with him. Eventually, we (my father, my mother, and my coach) won the battle and were on the road.

Once we arrived at the show, Zydo spun out of the trailer and commenced conversing with every horse there. He called, he howled, he screeched. He tossed his head, he skittered, and at 8:05 a.m, I was ready to tie him to the trailer and be a simple observer of the festivities.

We got to the warm-up arena and my nerves nearly got the best of me. At that point, I said to my father "Put me on the damn horse. NOW." and without missing a beat, he grabbed hold of my left leg and tossed me swiftly into the saddle.



The first warm-up was something else. Zydo skittered about the arena, popping his nose out the open walls, spooking at umbrellas outdoors, and generally being a pill. I made my best effort to keep it together and eventually he settled down. We took a quick fifteen minute break, and then headed back to the warmup ring to have another go and calming his (my?) nerves. Since we missed the first class, I just did extra work with him in the arena.

I rode my first dressage test on time and in good spirits. About five minutes into my warmup, I realized that OH MY WORD, I was at a SHOW with my HORSE. After that, elation set in and stayed with me the rest of the day.

I thought I had done fairly well when I left the ring. We walked out, all smiles and WHHHEEEEE! We did it! Then I had time to cool him out, pee, and hop back on for my second test.

The second test was somewhat worse than the first. I actually went off-course while I was riding. I lost points there, which surprised me because I was under the impression that going off-course was a disqualifier and that I wouldn't be counted for scoring in that test.

I spent the day feeling genuinely pleased with myself because I had overcome the morning's fears and actually gotten on my horse. He was beautiful beyond words. He is in great shape, he's well-muscled, he's not sore on his bad knee... And I was riding him for all the world to see.

We waited after the second test for our scores for what felt like hours. All I wanted at that point was to get a ribbon, any ribbon at all. I wanted someone to believe that my wonderful, gorgeous Thoroughbred deserved a piece of silk to wear in his bridle at the end of the day. The ribbons went all the way to tenth place, and there were fourteen people entered in the classes I was in. I waited on my horse, feeling perfectly at ease and begging the Universe to please, please give me a ribbon.

The woman with the scoring sheet eventually came out carrying ribbons, and my heart soared because I was so hopeful one of them was for me. I was baffled when she held out two, because I thought that I hadn't even qualified for two ribbons.

And then she handed me a first and a second place ribbon along with my scoring sheets.



I scored first place in my first dressage test, and second place in my second dressage test. I was sort of speechless and then she handed me something else: A prize for having the top adult score in my division.

I've spent the rest of the day in a sort of semi-speechless reverie: I went to a show that started out disastrously; I got on the horse when the last thing I wanted to do was even be near him; I rode him through a warm-up ring that he was scared of.

And all I really wanted all day was ANY ribbon. And now I'm sitting at home admiring my first and second place ribbon and I am absolutely stunned.

And so very, very thrilled to own the most wonderful Chestnut Thoroughbred in the world.

Blast from the Past...

I have to make a confession here, and announce that my recent falls off of horses have scared me. Or scarred, me, whichever you prefer.

After Zydeco moved back home and was treated for his injury, he needed some excercise. He was ready to ride last Monday.

I rode him on a hack and he was generally OK, if not a little crazed. There is nothing I can stand less than a crazed horse, and so when he swung his head from side to side and skittered, I leapt off him like SuperMan and wept quietly into his neck.

After I had wept for a period of time, my mother quietly asked me what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was put him back in the barn, and so that is what I did.

I know that I need to make some decisions here, and I'm not sure how to make them. I have always been weary of horses, scared that they will pitch me to Heaven's End, and now that it has happened, I am more scared than ever.

And so, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I called in another rider.



Adam is a longtime friend I have, and he has made it to fourth level dressage riding. For those of you not in the know, that's pretty freakin' good. Like, I'd kill to ride at the fourth level. I don't even think I've made it half way to the first level at this point.

I wanted to see if Zydo's behaviour with me was due to my riding, or due to some other factor. So Adam saddled him up and rode him until he was in a frothy lather of sweat. And Zydo did all the things that he does with me and more, the head tossing and the skittering hither and yon...



But Adam was able to sit it through and deal with it.

So this is my new goal as a rider, to suck it up and deal with it, to not leap off of Zydeco's back and weep when he takes a sideways step.

Zydo moves back to my coach's farm on Monday, now that he is back to his old self again. I have another show coming up in September, and I need to ride him like I own him so that the two of us can compete together.

It is all about the baby steps when it comes to riding... getting over the fears and qualms that I have, and moving forward onto something better.

Bring it on....

Let The Show Begin...

Zydeco and I are heading off to our first show in seven days. Well, technically, eight days, but seven days from now I'll be clipping and bathing and brushing and shining.

I have to say that I am absolutely thrilled that my coach has found a show that Zydo can enter. The problem with Zydo is (And this is the ONLY time I will ever say 'problem' and 'Zydo' in the same sentence, because he is ever the perfect horse) that he has arthritis. It is quite manageable at this point, but the medication he takes precludes him going in a recognized show.

I've wept over this countless times, because there is nothing I want more than to take my perfect boy over fences for all the world to see. Were it my choice, I would buy him a bionic leg and take him straight to the Olympics.

I am entering him in two command classes and one class over small X-rails. This is minimally due to his arthritis, and mostly due to my lack of skill as a rider.

Here you see Zydo and I leaping over a log fence. I love this picture because of the look on his face. If you put a fence in front of this horse, he perks right up and his expression states clearly that he MUST proceed towards it at a perfect pace, bound effortlessly over top of it, and land on the correct lead every time.



I know that, in reality, this show is really not a big deal, but I could be going to the Olympics for all the excitement I'm feeling right now. I have no idea if we will be good enough to warrant a ribbon or not; I don't really care.

I just know that I'm taking my boy to a show, that he will do exactly as I ask, and that he will be amongst the most dashing horses there.

In Which My Ass Meets Grass....

I came off two horses today, within the same hour. If I keep my right arm propped up on my knee, and my knee propped up in the chair, I can mostly type without screaming out in discomfort too loudly.

First I fell off Zydo, and I have to say that it was nothing short of thrilling. A dog leapt out of the fenceline, taking Zydo by surprise. So, he did the only rational thing he could think of: He reared high, high up in the air, and took off sideways at top speed.

I remember looking at his belly and his right leg, and then seeing hooves above me before I realized that I was on the ground. My right leg was above me and still in the stirrup, and as a result I was dragged for a very short distance in the grass. This is how my new show breeches looked at the end of the day:



After that, I hopped back on (Hopped being a relative term, as my legs are not that strong and Zydo is impressively tall) and finished out my ride without fuss.

Next, I hopped on Winter, a lovely little quarterhorse who was in a bit of a mood today. First she deaked out from in front of the fence. When we went at the fence again, she simply stopped in front of it.

I, however, continued on in a forward motion, such that I landed with my head in the sand, and my left hip on the fence. I daintily bounced off that, wrenching my shoulder in the process. I'm kind of confused myself as to how the whole thing went down, what with being upside down and in excruciating amounts of pain and all.

I'm not gonna lie here: I cried like a baby. After I'd done some deep breathing exercises, I shakily remounted the horse and continued on, but the pain in my left arm was too much to bear. Getting off the horse again was a whole new experience for me, and once I finally was off, I collapsed again beside the horse and began weeping.

All of the mobility was lost in my left arm, the pain was shooting down into my elbow, and I couldn't move it. We iced it, we left it alone, and an hour later I was in such pain that I couldn't speak without screaming obscenities and begging Our Heavenly Father for assistance.

I was examined briefly at the hospital and told to not move my arm for two days, and keep it in a sling for that time to a maximum of a week. If it hurts I'm not to move it.

What the doctor doesn't know is that I have my first ever horse show in TEN DAYS and, God help us all, I will be there with bells on. And whatever casting will be needed by that time.

Bliss...

I rode my horse again today, that wonderful Thoroughbred who I'm pretty sure I will name my firstborn child after.

As soon as I was on him, he charged away from me. He did this three times, in fact, and I did not feel an ounce of terror in my heart: Instead, I felt joy and wonder, because all that horse really wants to do?

Is go.

He wants to run and canter and leap over fences. He wants to have the correct number of strides between his obstacles, and if he doesn't get it, he makes up for it. He wants to run until his neck is lathered to froth in sweat and then? Once he is lathered?

He still wants to keep going.

Today I had to forcibly stop him from trotting or cantering. I had to force him to walk in a forward motion until the froth had dissipated from his neck.

And I must say that I am jealous. I wish I had that much urge to please the people around me, I wish I had what it took to keep running despite the fact that I was already huffing and puffing. This horse wants to move. He wants to go. He wants to run and he wants me to stay with him.

And for that, I love him, and the glee in my heart simply can not be spelled out in words for the Internet to understand.

And as a result, you'll just have to take my word on it.

Float-y and Nice...

I took Zydo over fences for the first time in a year today. I rode for a little over an hour and the entire time was pure, unadulterated bliss.

And I think that this must be what doing drugs is like. I've never had involvement with drugs, and sometimes I think it must be the same as riding: Everything is floaty and nice, full of adrenaline and hearts pounding and joy. And then you come off, and your muscles are aching, you have a headache, and you grin like an idiot because of the trip you just took.

I nearly burst into tears today when I worked on a transition into canter, because for the first time in my life, my legs actually did the thing they were supposed to do when sending a horse into canter. And then he ran, and ran, and ran. There was wind in my hair, his mane was flying around my fingertips. Zydo ran his heart out for me, and didn't want to stop, not once. My coach started setting up a jump for him, and as soon as he saw it, his ears perked up and he started charging towards it without my saying so.

I left his new farm with a smile plastered on my face, and an aching seated very deep within my ass.

And I was the happiest person on the planet.

Zydo's New Home...

For weeks now, I have been deliberating on whether or not I should move Zydo to a new location. Preferably one with ground suitable for riding a horse on. Fortunately for me, my riding coach happens to have a spare stall in her barn for the next six weeks, and so that is where Zydo is currently living.

I've been contemplating this for ages. Can I handle driving every day to see my horse? Can I handle having him away from The Ranch? What if he gets hurt on someone else's property? But, after hours and hours discussing the topic, I decided that my parents should take the plunge and move my horse for me. They moved him last Friday.



I was far, far to riddled with anxiety to be on the premises of The Ranch the day that Zydo moved, and as a result, I went to a little town about eight hours away. The train ride was tedious, the beer was delicioius, and my heart was pounding so hard by three p.m. on Friday that I nearly stopped being alive altogether.

I spoke with my coach's husband at three, and he informed me that the move itself had gone smoothly and that the horse was still, in fact, alive.



Once he had settled in to the barn, and met the Chestnut Trakheiner named Stetson, Zydo proceeded to terrorize his new farm. I received a text message at around nine, after not nearly enough beers, that said: Your horse is behaving like a damn Arab. Call me.



At that point, all the matter in my stomch nearly spewed out of my eye sockets, because I bought this horse SPECIFICALLY because he does not behave like an Arabian. He is an elderly, arthritic THOROUGHBRED, and that is what I expect him to behave like.

Zydo did laps of the entire farm after pulling himself away from my coach as she led him to the ring. He ran, he cavorted. My coach owns a three year old who attempted, briefly, to run and cavort with him.

She couldn't keep up and gave up racing around the pasture after three laps. Zydo continued and ran another two, just for good measure. He was so sore by the next day that he could hardly trot.

And this is what I love about my horse: He was achey and hurt-y, and still, once I threw the saddle on, he was desperate to please me. He wanted to work, he wanted to pull himself together and work off the bit. He tried and tried in everything I asked him to do. He aims to please his rider, and sometimes I wonder: does he know how much I love him? Does he know that my heart melts when he licks the palm of my hand and he nuzzles into my shoulder?

Regardless, my horse now has a new home for the time being, with a sand ring and jumps and other horses to frolic with. I can ride him every day of the week except Sunday.

My heart is happy.