Given that I am sort of unsociable, I have surprised myself by making acquaintances in my new neighborhood.  There is one fellow who is often out in his wheelchair because he loves the outdoors and hates being confined to his home.  We talk a lot about his progress with physical therapy/rehabilitation.  I saw him the other day, as I was headed to the barn, and stopped to ask him about his Christmas.  I told him that, while I can't complain about 2013 (points to house), I feel that 2014 is going to be a good year.  He said that he felt the same, had the same optimism, and felt it would be the year that he would walk again.

Let's just put that in perspective.  We bitch and moan about various things, our jobs, our friends, our petty inconveniences, and this dude is just hoping to walk.  It's been seven years since he was paralyzed from a gun shot and he remains ever the optimist.  I told him that when he was up and going, we would do a 5k.  :)

In that token of being grateful for what I've got, Ponykins has been a freaking champ.  We had four days in a row off and then three on.  I gave him yesterday off in preparation for riding tonight and tomorrow.  He'll get Thursday off so I can go to the gym and photograph puppies and kittens.  Then a ride on Friday, a lesson(!) Saturday and hopefully something fun on Sunday.  Rinse and repeat.

Someone split a rail at the barn so I used the two almost-perfectly-equal rails to make a skinny.  We've jumped a skinny before at the barn in Augusta, but this skinny fried the Kid's brain.  I had it as a little 18" vertical, which he promptly knocked down.  When I put it back up, he refused.  Derp.  I made it a microscopic crossrail and he jumped it as though it were going to eat him.  I left it up in the ring and OR told me that her horse cantered it beautifully, without any sort of monster-induced hairy eyeballs.

Maybe it was the giant standards.

Wet pony.

You can see our path on the right.

And, finally, I got this picture from the BM:

And this is what I did:

Laundromat.

My adorbs sewing machine.

I was sorta surprised that the little beast sewed through two layers.

Some reinforcement.

And on the Archer.

Speaking of, check out dat ass.

Without a plot or character development or a point, really.  tl;dr?  We went everywhere and saw everyone.

Christmas was a blur.  I worked a half day on Xmas Eve and then we loaded up my car and started the trek back to Augusta.  The first thing we did upon arriving in the city was to eat at one of our old favorite pizza places.  I actually served there for about nine months at the end of my college career.  If my personality is any indication, I was a fucking sorry server because I tended to not give a shit.  Anyways, the pizza was really good.

He's so freaking hot. That giant Budweiser sign is covering a fish tank.  Rumor has it that all the fish died or it cracked or something.

We headed over to Stop #1: the In-Laws.  A few months ago, I told them about a working-bred GSD for adoption at the Humane Society.  They adopted her and this was the first time I'd seen her since.  They said that she was superb when meeting people outside of their home, but inside, she was skittish.  After about an hour or so, she would walk up and sniff my feet if I stayed completely still.  We ended the visit with her sitting on my command and taking dog biscuits from my hand.  (Oh, you wanted to know about the actual Xmas?)

This girl!

My dad offered us a room for the night, but was unknowingly out with friends until about 9:30.  D and I wandered Target and got ice cream before heading over to Stop #2: Dad's.  Though, it isn't really his.  He lives with his long-time girlfriend in a nice, old subdivision.  D and I spent half the time there pointing out architectural details to each other.  Dad made us pancakes in the morning, which I'm not quite sure has ever happened before.  Honestly, I think it's been over a decade since my dad cooked for me.  The feels.  We all exchanged gifts and loaded up my car.

Stop #3: the Grand-in-Laws was.  It just was.  D shushed me because his G-ma was talking about how they wanted to help with some bullshit at "D's house" and I wanted, so desperately, to sprout off that it isn't his fucking house and maybe I don't want their goddamn help for our home.  Roar.  I was in a piss-poor mood after that.  And they didn't give me my normal moonshine.  /bitter

I did get this pillow, though.  Jealous?

We then took the almost-over-burdened Fiesta to Stop #4: D's Aunt's.  This was super interesting.  D's aunt got secret-married a few weeks ago and we hadn't seen her in two years.  We also had never met the dude.  In addition to that, we also saw his cousin who is, unfortunately, living through one of those Lifetime dramas:  live-in-fiancé cheats on her with younger, chubbier married momma who he then moves into the house that he bought with D's cousin.  All the stories that I've heard about the situation make his cousin sound horribly passive, so I was glad to hear that she stood up for herself.  She drove by the house, got black-out angry, and only came to when punching the ex-fiancé in the face for pulling her off of the other woman.  I mean, not ideal by any means, but it's something.

We left his aunt's and headed over to Stop #5: My Mom's.  Freaking melee.  Two brothers, one sister-in-law, three nephews and one niece, two aunts and uncles, two cousins and their respective kids and one significant other, my mom and her husband.  And later, another "aunt" and "cousin" and his SO, and another brother and his SO.  Food was good, companionship was good.  Less awkwardness than normal.  Towards the end of the night, when most everyone had left, the "cousin" and one of my brothers and his wife got into a conversation about old family history involving illegitimate children and friendships in the 1940s.  For whatever reason, I had the most information.  We spent the night there.

Mom loves Xmas.

Day after Christmas, I called the boarder to see what time they closed.  Our normal kennel wasn't available, so we were boarding the dogs at their affiliate vet office instead.  The chick told me one.  It's a two-plus hour drive to Savannah from Augusta and then additional time to the small town in which the vet is located.  D and I started scrambling to get all our crap together when I had the brilliant idea that I wanted the girls to get a bath before we got them.  I called the vet back and started the conversation with, "Y'all close at 1 today, right?"  At which point I learned that they actually closed at 7 pm.  The receptionist had my information, so I figured that they would call me back if the second person was wrong in stead of the first.

Given the sudden extra amount of time, D and I headed to downtown Augusta to eat at one of our fave restaurants, a 67-year-old, family-owned Jewish bakery.  It's super old and poorly updated and incredibly quaint.  The soup is amazing and given out with every sandwich.  We ordered the same stuff that we ordered three years ago and cried a little inside.  And got baked goods to go.  After that little brunch, we drove out in the opposite direction to a small town on the outskirts.  This town has two tack stores within spitting distance of each other.  We only went to the larger of the two and it was not as good as I remembered.  I remember a shit ton of stuff and overflowing aisles.  This time, they had almost nothing.  I still managed to buy horse treats and a new saddle pad.

Looks questionable, tastes amazing:  potato soup, egg salad sandwich and "sunshine" tea (Arnold Palmer).

It looks like this:  a weirder grey/green in person with teal accents and the embroidered diamonds.

We left the tack store and went to a Hobby Lobby, which Savannah does not have.  I love Hobby Lobby.  We got more hand-stamp stuff and a large, ornate frame for Archie's racing photo.  Then we headed to another favorite restaurants, this time Mexican (surprise!).  It wasn't as good as we remembered, which I think is the theme:  we're adjusted to the new stuff but still manage to idolize the old.  After lunch, we said good-bye to Augusta and headed back to Savannah.  It was a quick switch of cars and off to get the girls.

Little shit on his new cat thing.

Savannah protecting her new skunk.

Scarlette showing off her new fox.

At the barn party on Saturday, we didn't ride. I didn't expect us to. But I did shove cookies into the Archer's face and just love on his dirty self.

They move the hay bales and the little wooden thing every time they replace the bale, so that big patch of poop and old hay was where it was previously located.

Dirty boy.

Knows I have treats.

Hugs!

D and I ran a million errands on Sunday, to include the normal stuff like the gym and lunch and photographing animals at the Humane Society.  They had 22 pets go home the day prior, so I only had three to photograph.  And we also had to do a little last minute shopping.  I have no freaking clue what kids like these days - other than expensive electronics and shoes - so I postponed shopping for the nieces and nephews until the last minute.  According to my mom, this will be the first Christmas that all of her kids have been home in several years.  Meh.

I got to the barn a little before dark and OR was in the ring, riding.  I groomed and tacked up pretty quickly and met her out there.  It's so freaking nice to have someone to ride with.  She'd set up a small crossrail and we took turns trotting over it a few times.  Then she raised it a little bit and we continued taking turns at the canter.  Goober was a jerk tracking right and would pick up this glorious, balanced canter only to break into the trot a few strides out.  He did it twice before I started pushing for him to maintain the canter.

I feel like we fly over fences.  I'm feeling more competent in my seat and my ability to ride the baby crossrail.  Less standing on my tiptoes over his neck and more hovering above the saddle in a squat position.  I'm starting to trust that, no matter how ugly, Archie will jump whatever I point him at.  I talked to OR a little bit about jumping, as it's something she swore that she wouldn't do with her horse but has been venturing towards a little more lately.  He's a really cute mover and looks like he'd have a nice frame over the fences.  We also talked a little bit about her taking a lesson with T3, as her new potential lesson day is two weeks out.  I'm also trying to talk her into starting a blog, since she wants to document her progress.  :)

The little arabian, after having shoved his face into the bale.

Last-Minute Mason Mash

Two blue mason jars, metal tags and silver ribbon.

Alfala cube at the bottom.

Topped with a layer of beet pulp.

Followed by a layer of oats.

Flaxseed and another layer of oats.

Another cube of alfalfa.

More beet pulp.

Tying on the tag.

Not pictured:  topped with four peppermints.

And the recipients showing appreciation!

Or, "Did I Forget That I Had a Blog?"

I rode the other night in the ring with OR.  The sun had already set, the arena lights were on, and it was just a wee bit chilly.  Three ground poles were set up at the far end of the ring, but the damn things are the same color as the sand.  We spent some time trotting them, but not cantering.  T3 had told me previously to canter ground poles in order to build confidence, but Archie knocks them with his hind feet and I get discombobulated.  No bueno.

Dirtiest Pony Ever

Prior to coming here, I don't think I appreciated watching other people ride enough.  I've learned from watching OR the importance of transitions.  She seems to work on them every ride, asking for halts and backing in the midst of her canters and her trots.  And other than when I specifically set out to work on our 10/15s, I never really work them.  And man, she and her horse do them so well.

I will say that I feel like, when I correctly ask for it, our walk to canter transition has been something borderline magical.  I can feel that the transition is starting with his hind end.  I can feel him reach beneath himself, rocking us both upward and forward.  I have to think this new strength is a direct result of the lessons with T3 and the subsequent corrections.  Speaking of, one person can't lesson on Saturday, so I don't think it's going to happen this weekend.  At least, I haven't heard from her or the BM.

For $200+, you can purchase knock-off paddock boots and half chaps.  I tried to remove the half chaps.  They don't come off.  And there is no zipper.  I think they're taking this "equestrian fashion" shit a bit too far.

And on a weird note:  I stumbled upon the Instagram of the girl who moved her new horse to my old barn right before I left.  Like, seriously unintentional.  I was reading a post by an equine vet about the Clydesdales, and someone made mention that they came to her city every St. Patty's Day for the parade.  Well, shit.  That's Savannah.  So I clicked on her profile and, lo and behold, it's my old barn.  That old trainer has worked wonders.  Trees have been cut down, bushes have been cleared.  I don't know what the hay situation is, exactly, but they had a round bale set up, too.  (Um.  Totally told BO they would need that and she said no!)  Looked to be about five horses there.  The kid seemed really happy and satisfied with the barn and the conditions, so I'm glad things worked out.

Bestest wrapping paper ever.

I like to look at analytics.  I like data.  I like the presentation of data in beautiful fonts and with pleasant colors.  I have a friend who is an "Information Scientist" and, without knowing more than my imagination has made up based on a few impressions from him, I think I would like to have a title like that.

I have to go back and look at February, 2013. WTF happened then?

Um.  15 mile trail ride would be the contributing outlier.

In looking at that August, 2013, can totally see a significant improvement in my distance.  Compliments of the new barn.

But my mind wanders so much.

I can't remember much from my ride on Friday.  I have GPS proof that it did indeed happen, but I can't remember anything about it.  And Saturday, it rained.  All day.  Even with the reprieve from spending time driving to the barn and at the barn, I don't feel like the husband and I spent much time sitting down and relaxing.

On Sunday, after working out, having lunch, photographing thirteen kittens/cats and two dogs, and washing my car, I went out to the barn.  I waited too long and by the time I was in the saddle, I could barely see.  I'd hoped to get a little jumping in, but the BM was having a lesson and I didn't want to jump on the grass.  There's currently a line set up and a cross rail at an angle and I'm pretty keen on playing with those before they get taken down.

BM invited me to ride in the part of the ring where she wasn't, so we did a lot of work on a circle.  Working walk, working trot, a balanced canter in something of a frame, and loops of a collected sit-trot.  Even though the Kid kicked out when I goosed him for breaking, I still felt like I had a solid citizen beneath me.  He just keeps getting better and better.  Not so much for me, though:  my legs heard that I had bragged about the ease with which I've been doing this damn micro-posting, so Sunday I had sloppy butter supporting me in the saddle.  Super duper.

AND OH MY GOD T3 JUST SENT A GROUP TEXT SAYING THAT SHE WAS GOING TO BE IN TOWN AND DID WE WANT A LESSONNNNNNN????!?!?!?!?!

/squee

It is the weather, dammit.

Walking back to my car from my office, roughly a mile through the scenic and beautiful historic downtown Savannah, I was elated.  I couldn't take my eyes off the clouds, the bright blue sky, the beauty of the spanish moss in the trees, the crunchy yellow, orange and purple leaves peppering the brick walkways through the squares.  I had a perk to my step and I made the trek in record time.  I hopped in my car, thinking about riding the horse and the exercises we would do.  And somewhere in that forty-five minute drive to the barn, the sun set.

And I thought, Fuck this shit, I want to go home!

But I didn't.  I went to the barn.  BM had just finished a lesson when I got the Archie out.  I was bundled up while I groomed him and she and I talked about random things.  Her daughter had been invited to a camp at a local college.  The other girl who rides in her jumping lessons went too.  That girl and her mother talked to the college about their equestrian team and were promptly told not to bother if she hadn't shown A circuit.  Ouch.

Bleached.

We also talked about trainers.  They trailered out to try a friend of T3's.  I'm not sure if they liked her or not, but no mention was made of her coming out to our barn.  And another trainer will be coming for her second lesson tonight.  If I had known earlier, I would have come out to watch her.  It's like T3 opened my eyes and I'm not going to settle now.  I would ask to take a lesson with the lady, but she charges nearly twice what T3 did for a private.  I want to know she's good before I blow nearly a hundred dollars riding with her.


While we talked, the wind was howling and Archie danced in the cross ties.  The BO and his son were replacing the round bale in the gelding pasture and Archie was whipping his head around to watch.  At my old barn, I would have been pleased to mount and walk around in these conditions.  But here I have cojones.


Mounted the eyeball-rolling beast and he almost immediately settled.  The ride itself was pretty uneventful.  Rather than ride as we normally would, I spent a lot of time controlling his pace and transitioning down in the turns to compensate for the weird soggy footing.  We worked on our collected sit trot, walk/canter/walk transitions, working trot/halt/back/working trot.  And counter bending while asking for different leads down the diagonals.  Pony was stellar.


And then the next day I completely flaked on riding.
And the next day.

But I'm totally going tonight.

I don't know if it's the weather or the drive or the holiday season tapping my reserve, but I couldn't coerce myself into going to the barn last night.  I went straight home and threw on an over-sized tank top with some leggings and looked up Christmas gifts online while the cats cuddled with me.  It was blissful and relaxing and I appreciated spending those extra two hours on my couch.  Awesome juxtaposition with the last post being a fitness book review, right?  Speaking of which - Carly has offered up her copy of said book to any brave soul that might be more inclined to get a gym membership.

So my last ride was Sunday night.  I ventured out to the barn at about 4 or so.  It was cold and misting and I thought I would be the only one at the barn.  OR was there and had just finished lunging her horse.  We talked a little bit about jumping and saddles and her recent lesson with my former dressage instructor.  OR really likes her, but I'm not convinced that I want to take lessons from her again.  Hope springs eternal, T3.

She was still riding by the time I got Archie, groomed and tacked up.  I gave him a little bit of a longer warm up because of the gross weather and wet footing and then worked on our trot and canter.  My posting has gotten worlds better, but I find that I can only achieve it if I allow my own legs to warm up first.  So the habit has been to trot around on a loose rein while posting sky-high, and then collect both of us.  My cheap little Saxon field boots have been amazing and comfortable and actually quite helpful in the heels-down-calves-gripping-low-posting thing.

Per the last lesson with T3, I've been working a little bit on getting Archie to maintain when we canter the contact and roundness from our trot.  This isn't easy for the Kid, who would rather llama around at the canter, with his spitting head in my lap.  So our canter work has been brief and praise has been pouring.  Muscle development is hard.

Found this on Pinterest.  It came from some tumblr, so I couldn't list the originating author if I wanted to.

I finished my ride by giving OR my saddle to try.  She's roughly my height, no idea where her legs start, but she's riding in a 16'' saddle.  My Collegiate is a 17'', so she wanted to see how it felt.  Girl might actually need a 17.5".  She's also got a Collegiate dressage saddle, but doesn't feel it's big enough for her either.  I told her that I would bring my old Wintec Bates out to see if it fit better.

Other little tidbits:  Archie rejected orange-flavored sugarfree generic Metamucil.  BM said that he is the absolute first horse she's ever met that wouldn't eat it.  I purchased some regular-flavor sugarfree generic and we'll try again at the start of next month.  If that doesn't work, there is another version that's a different texture and has a little bit of sucrose in it.  And if that doesn't work, we'll get the damn Smartpak crap.

I also recently measured wood. Our little crossrail is just shy of 2 feet, which makes me feel amazing.  And I verified our wanky standards:  they start at 1 foot and have a hole every six inches.  Woo.