Oh, good. The gnarly yellow stage.

UGH!

So I decided to ride last night.  Husband gave me a curfew - I had to be home for dinner by 8:30.

Archie was a giant shit.

There was one point, while he was rearing and bucking and crow hopping, that I actually wasn't afraid of falling off.  I was more pissed off that he was being a jerk.

We went along pretty well for a while.  Both directions, decent (lazy) trot.  Downward transitions.  We were tracking right and he spooked at the dog.  It wasn't a normal drop-and-side-step spook. It was a dance-and-spin spook, which is new.  So I turned him back around and we continued in a high-stepping stupid trot.  I call it stupid because it was all up and no forward.  When he finally relaxed from that, I asked for a little canter on the left lead.  Nailed it.

Then I decided that ending with some trot poles would be nice.  We go through once.  We change direction and go up that tiny little incline (the same one he's exploded at twice before), headed in a circle towards the trot poles.

Then I have this leaping, angry beast below me.

I'll admit:  I lost my cool for a second.  I smacked him on the neck.  And when his feet landed, I made him canter out.  When the cantering was good, was smooth, we went back to a sit trot and went back and forth over the damn trot poles, both directions.

I cooled him out and sponged him with RefreshMint, which smells amazing, leaves his coat funny and seems less abrasive than the liniment. I just can't figure out what's going on with him.  I know his buddy left, but I'm his buddy, too.  And he's not completely alone: Sang is constantly there, asking for his attention.  I don't know if his fitness is to a point where he's going to be a cocky bastard until I can work him until he's worn out, if he just feels better than he has in months, or if demons pop out of that one corner.  I ought to take a picture of it.

After all of that, I went and ran three miles.  It wasn't nearly as far as I wanted to go, but I was home by 8:20.

Here's hoping the husband has a good birthday weekend!

So, the last day that BB and I rode together, we went on a trail ride.  I meant to write a post about this, but, le sigh, I forgot.

The initial part of the trail ride was fine.  We were walking.  Archie likes walking.  I found out, though, that Archie does not seem very keen on following.  We worked on it.

After a ten minute battle to get Duke to go by the rooster (because, of course, it's so much more reasonable for me to wait while she risks bashing her unhelmeted head on trees and stuff instead of just letting Archie lead the way by the damn rooster), we finally got to the road that we all like to run on.  Except, I'd already worked the poor snot and he had the chiro visit coming up.

First, BB says that she really wants to canter Duke.  Then she says that she's supposed to be cooling him out.  Then, she gallops off.

I had that brief thought that it could be like the movies - I'd kick Archie into a gallop and we'd catch them and when we'd pass her, I'd shove her off her horse, giggling all the while.  The snorting mess below me quickly brought me back to reality.  I had a few options: 1) go after them, not knowing how either ex-racehorse would react, but knowing that Duke had been a shit earlier and Archie was currently being a shit or 2) stand my ground and make the little bastard listen.  I opted for number 2.  Which, to my shame, ultimately required me to dismount and walk him in tight circles, until he was being more reasonable BB brought Duke back.

I mounted, we started to go by the way we came.  I asked if Archie could lead.  And she allowed it for all of fifteen steps.  (Okay, now?  I'm sorta glad she's gone.)

After that shit fest, last night I decided to take Archie back out into that area - the meadow/dirt road.  They'd recently mowed it, so I thought it would blow his mind a little and we could have some fun.

I didn't expect crow hops and eye rolls.

I didn't expect to have to press my bruised calf into his side to stay on.

We made a couple circuits around the meadow, before I thought I'd successfully gotten the message across that forward is always the answer, no matter the question.  Not up, not around, not sideways.  Definitely not short-strided and stupid.  Then we went to the front pasture, where I normally ride, and worked on going forward some more.  I guess we're going to be working on this forward thing for a while.

I'm tempted to ride tonight, even though it's my running night (do both?) because I think this weekend will be a small mess.  My husband's birthday is Sunday and I've got a few things planned.  He doesn't know if he wants to celebrate Saturday or Sunday, so I've already told the soccer team not to expect me.  And Tuesday is our second anniversary.  So, yeah.  Maybe get in as much riding as I can while I can.

Here's my bruise, three days later:

Yesterday was sort of a weird day.  After work, I mean.

I told D that when I started averaging more than five miles in my runs that I wouldn't be working out with him at home any more.  Time to put on your big boy britches, son.

He got home before I did yesterday, so I fed the critters and immediately went upstairs to crash.  I'm having trouble sleeping because if I lay on my back, the back of my skull starts to throb, and if I lay on my side or my face, my jaw starts to throb.  It's really been a pain in the ass.  I've been waking up with head aches.

Last night.

I use an app called Sleep Cycle that tracks my movement during the night and does some fancy algorithm to determine the quality of my sleep and how long I've been asleep and all that.  It's also supposed to wake me up at the best point of my rhythm around the time that I need to wake up.  It's pretty damn accurate.  Last night, sleep quality was a 71%.

Where was I going with this?

Okay, so I took a nap and then headed out to run for the first time in about ten days.  The plan was six miles, an easy, breezy six.  The track was more crowded than it has ever been, which made for some entertaining people watching.  I feel horrible saying this, but I want to bitch at the people who are there obviously to lose weight and won't break a sweat.

At about mile five, which is my problem mile, I wanted to use my hip flexors more and my knees less.  I got into this weird stride pattern that made me think of the power walkers you see occasionally.  I mean, I was super fast (for me) and it wasn't nearly the effort I'd be expended if I were actually running at that speed, but I'm sure it looked weird.  Who gives a damn, right?  But then my abs started to burn and I had to go back to a normal jogging stride.  I could only maintain it for about three quarters of a mile.

The ginormous bruise hurt but the hurt didn't get worse as I ran.  So I ran.

I went and visited with the Kid afterwards.  Loved on him for a minute and then gave him his beet pulp/alfalfa cubes/SmartPak.  While he munched, I tried to love on Sang.  I've had this thing about not wanting to get attached to Sang, because it hurts when a horse leaves or dies.  More so when they die.  And I feel like I'm going to be here when he passes and it's going to devastate me, like Atlas' death did.  I'm the only one who knows the entire story of Atlas' death.  Eventually, I'll tell it.

But anyways, loving on Sang:  I'm worried that there is something neurological wrong with this horse.  I can't pin point exactly what seems off, but he was incredibly anxious.  He's always anxious, actually.  I wonder if she would even consider putting him on a calming supplement or if she would even notice if I did.  If I walk, he follows.  If I'm standing there, he stays.  It's like he's depressed and anxious.  I had a little talk with Arch to be nice to the old fellow.  I hope he was listening.

The plan for today is to hustle home, walk animals, ride horse and meet hubs at the gym.  Then cook dinner, drink the Malibu Banana Rum the hubs bought me, and sleep.  Wee!

After dosing on ibuprofen and leaving a work meeting a few minutes early, walking the dogs and changing clothes, I headed out to the barn last night.

I knew that BB and Duke were leaving, but it still made me sort of sad to see all of their stuff gone.  This was completely unlike when Atlas left us, because all of his stuff stayed.  It made me wonder what was going on in Archie's mind.  He and Atlas were best buddies and when Atlas died, he... I wouldn't say "accepted" Sang.  He tolerated Sang.  It saddens me that I can't make my horse play nicely with the skinny geriatric who so desperately wants to be his friend.  But then Duke came and Archie and Duke were best buds, yet again ignoring Sang.

When I got there, Sang was hanging out in Archie's stall and Archie was grazing.  He didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed.  Never looked, never called.  I have to guess that they moved Duke pretty early, though, because BO is as lazy as sin and the trailer was already back in its spot and the gaps made by the absence of BB's stuff were filled in with her crap.

I hope Sang and Archie bond more this time.

I'm not sure who the new boarder will be.  If it goes like last time, there will be a couple of months where she speculates about potential boarders and then one will randomly show up.  "Oh, didn't I tell you?"  Like I just happened to be there the day Duke showed up.  And, if they suck, I'll leave.  I'm so tired of this.  And I'm tired of my boy bonding with horses that either die or leave.

I rode him last night for about twenty minutes.  I had a valid excuse of needing to meet my husband for grocery shopping, but with the giant bruise on the inside of my knee, it was all I could really tolerate.  And let me just say:  my equitation, which is questionable on my best days, was horrific yesterday.  I know knees should be light anyways, but I couldn't bare to have the knee touch the saddle.  So I was doing this weird thing with the leg all jacked out to the side and standing on my toes.  He was such a good boy.

The chiro visit yesterday was awesome.

When the doc arrived, I was teaching BB how to pull a mane.  I was sort of horrified that she had never learned this and has owned Duke for years, but she explained that she's only ever had mediocre teachers and was really self-taught on the whole horse ownership thing.  Previously, she's only ever cut his mane so it was pretty stinking thick.  She'd also managed to do a weird partial hack job at the base of the top side with some of those thinning blade things.  It was a hot mess.  I explained to her my method and also said that people disagreed with how I started.  I start at the withers.  I've had people flip out that I didn't start pulling at the head, but I think my logic is pretty sound:  pulling near the head tends to piss off a large percentage of horses, so rather than carry that pissed-offed-ness down the neck, I'll just get to it when I get to it.

In the hour that the doc was there, BB did another third and I finished the job.  She went a little short, but it still looks good.  He's actually leaving today to go trial as a lesson horse at her work barn.  I wish her the best and am only mildly jealous.  Jealous because it's an amazing barn (they have lasers! for flies!), but not jealous because I would never let Archie be a lesson pony.

So, the boy was only a little bit of a brat for the chiro.  And she was really impressed with his improvement.  She did her assessment and his pain has moved, which is a good sign. When she finished the adjustment, he actually did not flex at all on either side of his spine, which I have not seen in years. I couldn't be happier.  She did get a little weird I'm-a-horse-whisperer on me ("See him looking into my eyes?  I'm doing this is with my eyes!" or something.  I tuned out.).  We've been given permission not to see her for another four weeks, but she's all booked around that time, so it might just be three.

Yay, improvement!

After the chiro left and finishing Duke's mane, I changed into my soccer stuff, grabbed my camera gear, and met my husband for a quick bite at Subway.  I <3 Subway.  Then we hustled to the Humane Society and took photos.  A photog hadn't been there in a week, so there were tons of animals to shoot.  I got lucky and some of them were actually kittens being adopted while I watched.  They were doing a feral cat TNR (trap, neuter, release) day, and some of the staff were being stressed-out assholes.  Oh well.

I finished my bajillion (admittedly, not amazing) photos and went next door to the soccer field.  Okay, this is a weird tangent, but it was in the news today.  I play at the Jennifer Ross Soccer Complex.  I never knew the story of Jennifer Ross, but figured that she was someone who did something with soccer on a level well enough to get recognized.  What I didn't realize until I was distributing the newspaper today and saw her name plastered: she was a 19 year old Mercer student, local Savannahian, and she had been killed in a botched armed robbery the night of her debutante ball.  I have more respect for the fields now and for her family for doing something like that in her memory.

As far as the actual soccer game:  we lost.  But it was an awesome game and we were only down by one.  And!  Missing our star keeper (who got a bloody nose last week playing - she's that hardcore).  I accidentally knocked a girl over (seriously - it was an accident).  We later collided and she busted my jaw and knee.  I saw stars.  It was almost half-time and I had to sub out.  I was really, really worried about having a concussion, my head hurt so badly.  I knew my knee hurt too, but I couldn't get past the pain in my jaw/head.  I went back in the second half and got carded for pushing her to the point of breaking her stride. Again, not intentional.  Just close marking.  I took a hard ball to my right knee, which was sort of achy at this point.

At the end of the game, when I sat down to take my cleats off, my legs and hands were shaking.  My jaw was throbbing and an egg was forming on my knee.  I texted D to meet me at the Mexican restaurant and to bring some ibuprofen.  In talking about my ouchies, I got the distinct feeling that he doesn't approve of me playing.  I think he likes that I enjoy a sport so much, but he said that if I got another concussion, I would be done.  Eh.  I can only hope that his bedside manner is more pleasant and empathetic with his patients, because that whole I-told-you-so attitude sucked.  But I'm in it now.  They said that I played well.  I tried.  I enjoyed it.  And I felt like I contributed something to the team.

Tonight, assuming that I can, I'm going to do a light ride and maybe work out.

Right leg.  It already looks bigger than the left because of the angle, but it's the swollen spot by the knee.

Okay, it's the lightly purple blob. This is from last night.

You can see it better in this one.  This morning.

This is the bag I bought at the tack store.  It's by AWST International.

So, yesterday, the hubs and I took a psychotically short trip to watch the University of Georgia whoop Vanderbilt. The game was in Athens, GA, which is a four and a half hour drive from Savannah.

We left at about eight, dropped the girls off for boarding and headed out. We drove straight (except for potty breaks) to Athens and immediately had lunch at the Taco Stand. Lunch was followed by shopping at a tack store just outside of Athens. I got a belt by Equine Couture, a bag, two containers of Nicker Makers (he loves them!), a 2 quart rubber feed bucket (for when his stall is locked and he needs his beet pulp), and a wound spray, since the blue ointment exploded in my mes box. And hubs bought a cat scratching post. I tried to talk him into buying me a racehorse Trail of Painted Ponies. No go.

After that, we headed to downtown Athens for shopping and drinking. We had a few at one bar and then were walking towards some shops when D magically disappeared. I was able to discern that he had darted into another bar. They had a sign outside advertising his favorite seasonal: Southern Tier Pumpking.

In our shopping adventurers, I acquired a new Kavu purse and a Kavu clutch, both in shades of blue and gray. We went into one store that had Sugar Gliders. In my inebriated state, I educated everyone within listening distance about everything I knew of them.

Dinner was at my favorite vegetarian restaurant, the Grit. And then on to the game.

I don't know anything about football.

We left in the third quarter and drove an hour and a half to my mom's new house. Then got up at eight and drove back home.

Now, I'm waiting on the chiro, then I have to take humane society pictures and a soccer game in three hours. Lunch?

Grumble. The blogger app doesn't tilt to offer a larger keyboard. So I'll make do!

Let's start with yesterday.

I took the girls to the vet. When I made the appointment, they asked if there was anyone I didn't want to see. I replied that the doctors didn't matter because, hey, tech only appointment. But then I thought that it would be AWESOME if a tech who I hate and who sucks didn't touch my girls. This is me being a neurotic bitch, but it's also the five years of vet med telling me that this tech lacks skills. If I have a choice, this is it.

After the appointment, when I was paying, one of the other receptionists came from the back and said that this idiot tech was bragging about having touched my dogs. I was furious.

She didn't administer the vaccines, but the fact that she willfully touched them and then bragged. Ugh.

D and I talked about it. Nail in the coffin. Switching vets.

After I recovered from that, we went to the tasting. A few very nice cupcakes. And alcohol.

Today, I bought a red belt to go with my black shirt for the game tomorrow. I've got a training this afternoon and then riding the kid. If I'm lucky, I'll get a ride in before we leave tomorrow. And then the chiro comes out at some point on Sunday.

Before I got all sorts of into the chiro's demands (downward transitions, lots of work, work, work, sit ups, freaking out over muscle sensitivity), I really enjoyed devoting Wednesdays to riding bareback.

So I did that again last night.  And I'm, normally, the lazy bareback rider.  I'm not going to ask him to jostle me all around his back at a trot - that's not comfortable for either of us, what with his high withers and sore back - and I'm not going to ask him to canter me, except occasionally.  Just don't do anything stupid and we can meander on at a slow pace for a little while.

Last night, though, I asked him to get more forward.  To work at the walk.   To frame and maintain and get that almost trot walk, with his head bobbing and his ears pricked.  I worked on moving my hips, which tend to get stuck.  And bringing my legs forward, grasping with the calves, toes up and in.  It was actually sort of a hard workout and we both had a little bit of sweat at the end.

This is sort of a fun week.  Tonight, we're going to a special cupcake tasting for the fall selection at Gigi's.  I feel like cupcake elite.  I feel like I might need a blog specifically for my cupcake addiction.  We can make a correlating graph between my weight and the number of cupcakes I eat a week.  And, of course, the corresponding photos of me standing on a scale, crying, as I shove down another cupcake.  Ah, bliss.  But, hey, they're gonna have champagne!

And then Saturday, the hubs and I are going to the UGA game.  I'm not a big football fan, but you can't marry a Georgia alumnus without having a little bit of black and red pride.  Also, I like to drink.  And I like to dress up.  And I like to travel (or, by "travel", I mean sleep in his car as he drives).  But this requires that we get the girls' vaccines updated, which I'm doing tonight, and board them Saturday night.  And return to Savannah by noon on Sunday to rescue them from doggy jail, so we'll be driving from Athens to Augusta in the wee hours of Sunday morning, sleeping at my mom's and her husband's new house for a few hours, and hitting the road again at the butt crack of dawn.  Wee. (This is when I wish, sincerely wish, that I had fostered better friendships with the people here so that I could just ask someone to spend the night with the girls or to pick them up from the kennel and drop them off at home.  Gotta work on that.)

After the eight miler (and the cycling, the riding and the soccer) on Sunday, the ride and workout on Monday, by Tuesday, I was dead on my feet.

I sent my husband a text, begging him to have a quiet night of dinner and a movie.  He got off early and consented, though I think his OCD mandated that he work out before I got home.  The gym shorts sort of gave it away - and his face.  He can't lie to me.  :)  And he gets that sort of giddiness of an evil toddler when he does something he knows is naughty.  I'm not married; I'm raising a 27 year old kid.

So we settled down to what will probably be our last meal from an amazing Japanese restaurant downtown (they're closing) and the movie the Grey.  Great food.  Less than stellar movie.

Today is going to be another ride, probably an at-home work out, our normal dinner, and cleaning the 1,043 photos off of my iPhone.  What's equally scary:  I have over 10k photos on my mac.  I need an external hard drive or something.  And the mental ability to delete some photos.

Oh, and I have no reference for this, but it seems like a good deal: two sets of oxer-style standards, poles, and three cavalettis for $320.  A coworker's husband does woodwork, so I gave him the specs and requested a quote.  I'm not sure how many poles, but he has the machine that can turn a 4x4 into a round pole or knock the edges off.  I'm sort of excited, though this won't be a soon thing.  I told her I thought maybe towards the end of October.

Or, "How I Started to Love Big, Angry Bay Thoroughbred Geldings."

When I was nine, my parents, my brother and I were driving in our minivan on a road not too far from our house.  I'm not sure where we were going or why we decided on this road, as this area wasn't very commercialized at this point.  And we passed one of those lit-up marquee arrow signs, advertising riding lessons down a scary dirt road.

I begged.  I pleaded.  My mom relented and offered to call to get information.  I still remember: $20 for a two-hour lesson.  In today's standards (or the standard of trainer that I would use today), that is absurdly cheap.  Even then, back in 1992-1993, it was still pretty cheap.

For my first lesson and for the first several months, my instructor was Bev.  Something was always a bit off about Bev, but I didn't know better.  (This "off" has nothing to do with the fact that she was the first lesbian I ever met.  Or, at least, that's how I remember her.)  I remember that Bev always rode during our lessons and, sometimes, things progressed too quickly.  For example:

• When teaching the canter (though we didn't know what diagonals or leads were), she slapped helmets on our heads, gum in our mouths, and put us on the lunge line with one of the regular lesson horses in a halter.  Maybe the lunge line is an okay way to teach the canter, when you're ready to learn.  None of us were.
• After learning to canter on the lunge line, it came time to canter in our lessons.  One girl (who I later competed against in IHSA and whooped) (I was always jealous because her family has money.) wasn't able to get Duffer, the old, bucking quarterhorse, to pick it up.  Bev came cantering behind her with a crop and smacked the tar out of Duffer, who proceeded to gallop and buck off.  This girl ended up under Duffer's neck, holding on for dear life.
• Bev sent a large group of us out on a trail ride, with no consideration for the skill set of that group.  A trot out of the woods (led by moi) resulted in one girl's horse (Duffer, I think), bucking and cantering off.  She fell.  Her foot stuck.  She was dragged.  This was a shining moment for me, one I remember distinctly twenty years later: dismounting, going to her, screaming for one of the better riders to gallop to the barn to have Bev call 911.  Holding her hand until the ambulance came.  That was the first time I met E, as she was untacking the horse I always rode: Teddy Bear.

Foxhunt on Duffer.

This is my favorite of us.

In the Archie news, we had a beautiful ride last night.  Short.  Downward transitions with a smaller walk break between the trot.  Here's to hoping it's working.

Saturday

Sunday - TOO EFFING MUCH

I don't know where this week went.  Pretty damn quick, though.

I rode on Wednesday night.  The plan was pretty simple and one I'll probably alternate with, so we work that topline: two laps at a brisk walk to warm up; four sets of a lap and a quarter at a trot with a downward transition to walk and about twenty feet of actual walking (I might need a crop for this in the future because when we go to walk, we lose all impulsion); reverse and repeat.  I had a slight issue of him bulging right when tracking right down the small decline.  I remember my trainer telling me once that Archie wasn't the sort of horse that you just sat on - he appreciates the communication, even if it's a correction.

My new paddock boots are in!  I haven't even opened the box.  They are Saxon Equileather Zip Paddock Boots.  Size Giant, Color Black.  Before I bought them, and when he came out to take my photos, I showed my husband how thoroughly the sole had separated from the rest of the boot.  I know he was joking, but he asked me if I'd gone through all the proper ghetto boot repair steps:  electrical tape, gorrilla glue, duct tape.  I think it sort of surprised him that I said yes.  And I had!  I can't remember how long I had those boots in Augusta, but they were starting to fuck up when we first moved here two years ago.  I just hope these new things fit well.

Wednesday night, we also did a secret Insanity ab workout.  I found three videos online that weren't released with the kit, so D was super-excited (..... yay....) to do them.  And then!  I cooked!  Just for me, though.  D had his own dead thing in the oven.  I don't have a finished product photo, or, really, any decent photos, but I made spaghetti out of spaghetti squash.  Let me just say:  those people who say spaghetti squash tastes the same?  LIARS.  It was sort of gross, but yeah, I'll eat it again.

Raw spaghetti squash.  Then you cook it (bake) and the insides turn to little spaghetti strands.

Last night, we went grocery shopping because we were out of ketchup.  Ketchup is that important in my household.  I'm sort of ashamed and sort of not.  Then we spent a minute talking about birthdays, as both of our birthdays and our anniversary are all coming up within the next thirty days.  Scary.  I told him what I wanted as my combined birthday/anni gift (and it meets the 2nd anniversary cloth requirement!): the Contender II.  He gave a brief "holy shit, that's expensive", but I showed him all the reviews.  Maybe it'll help with the chiro costs!  And after all that, I ran, we did a recovery workout, ate, and had our weekly cupcakes.  Yum.

Tonight, I'm going to try to ride again (in my new boots!).  I also got this fancy effervescent brush cleaner that I'm going to try soon.  I meant to try it last night, but I got lazy.  It has good reviews on SmartPak.  I'll post pictures when I actually do it.  I feed tomorrow and I also plan on giving the Kid a bath in a liniment shampoo that I also just ordered.  I know.  Wasn't I just talking about money?  And soccer starts Sunday.

A photog I like specializes in dogs and "crazy ball face." This is "crazy fly face."  (His.  Not mine.)

Even with the bottom muzzle chopped off, I think Hubs did a good job.

One of my favorites.

"I EEEEEAT IT!!!"

Oh, hello there, handsome man with a camera.

I can't tell if I'm on the wrong diagonal, but it wouldn't surprise me.

"Crazy fly face."

Trainers have spent years and hours trying to teach me to stop crossing my arm over my body.  It goes back to the hunt master and her "indirect rein."

Posting, but check out that neck!

Canter!

Blurry, but he reaches under pretty well.

Grumpy ears.

Into the light and still listening and/or grumpy.

Ohh, correct diagonal.  Go me.

The hollow at the start of the right lead canter.  I probably wouldn't be keen on the dead weight driving her force into my spine, either.

A tiny bit better.

Done, Mom?

Little crossrail.

Happy Kid cantering.

Our little vertical that the right front promptly knocks over.