Okay, a few months ago, I found a company that offered all this invasive information about equine DNA for $99.  They confirmed that Big G was a TWH.  So when I wanted to find out what Whiskey is, I went with this company because it would also tell me so much more..

Well, fuck me, they don't tell breeds.

So now I've got all this great information about my pony and it still doesn't answer the question about wtf he is.  Which leads me to the other company, Texas A&M, which will break it down to the top three breeds that he could be.  The problem with this company, however, is that they don't include Appaloosa.  If Whiskey is 100% Appy, it's still going to break down the breeds that went into making the Appaloosa.

Also some North American breeds are not on the list, - example: Appaloosa, American Paint horse, because registries are open or partially open and allow crossbreeding. 

Or, "Fuck that fucking gravity."  Or, "Goddamnit, Horse, You're Too Old for this Shit."


I've often romanticized about the relationship I have with Archie - two minds, one soul; we think together; I need only visualize it and he's doing it.  Well, yesterday, Archie reminded me that he is still a freaking prey animal and fallen trees are frightening.  Derp derp.


My happy pills won't let me dwell too much on why the fuck I've fallen twice in three months and how much I must suck as a rider, and instead they remind me that I'm taking greater risks with my riding than I have in years.  I just need to be better about keeping my ass in the goddamn saddle.

Speaking of my ass, my badonk took the brunt of this fall.  And my head.  Alas, poor new OneK, I barely knew you.  I've got a cheaper helmet on order and I'm going to see if I can replace the OneK at the discounted price... again.  I'm still within the three years of the original purchase, but I don't want to abuse the system.  It did allow me an opportunity to explain to trail buddy why helmets should be replaced after a fall, especially a fall that leaves you on your knees in the dirt, swaying to the rhythm of your "oh shit"s.  I should be better at this by now.



I collected myself for a few minutes, put everything back together, and we proceeded to ride another hour.

As a side note, this was the first ride with my helmet cam since I fell off Ox, while also wearing my helmet cam.  I'm taking suggestions for exorcising demonic electronics.

We've talked about what your horse doesn't like to do, and I don't want to confuse this with that.  I'm not talking about personality quirks or training foibles.  Tell me:  if you could change something (or things) about your horse, what would you?

I would give Archie better joints.  His joints (and front feet) are shit.  We've been lucky that the level of (non)work that we do hasn't necessitated injections to keep him sound.  He's been diagnosed with ringbone, he's had his hocks and hind ankles injected, and at his pre-purchase, the vet said that he had shitty knees.  God, how does he even move?

So, beyond the joints, I'd changed the length of his back.  I know that the length of the spine affects the functionality and movement of the horse, but I really think it'd be easier for him to have a stronger back if there were less of it.  He's like two ribs too long.  And downhill, let's fix that.  Magic, everywhere.

Downhill is exaggerated, but you get the gist.

And, finally, if I can be a petty motherfucker, I'd give him like a hand in height.  I know that my just-over-16-hands-or-something horse is considered tall.  But Duke was 17.3 and I felt like that was the bestest, safest height.  Ponies scare me.  Drafts enthrall me.

As Koby reached across him, she said, "Oh, he's tall."  And I swooned.

Um......  I guess I'd just change his conformation.



get the InLinkz code

Here's to a certain 17 year old bay Thoroughbred gelding, who got a cool breeze up his butt today.


 

In which I turn $18 and a million hours of my life that I'll never get back into a saddle pad and half-pad cover.

The smallest sewing machine that could. Sewing on the finishing ribbon, because progressive photos would make too much sense. (The inclusion of my husband's feet and socks are free of charge.  You're welcome.)

Purchased:  ribbon, black fleece, teal-ish chevron fabric, white thread and quilting fluff stuff.

Not made for my dressage saddle, it was just super handy.  And dirty.

Fun things:  

Aka, That Time I Was Fucktarded.

I was going to try to get all fancy with electrical diagrams and stuff, but instead let's talk simply about the dipshit thing I did last night.

Let me go backwards first, though.  I had annual fasting blood work first thing in the morning.  I'm all excited about healthcare, but, for whatever reason, blood work fucks up my day.  I was that kid in high school who almost fainted giving blood, but not because I'm gushy about blood.  I'm just greedy about my personal resources, I guess.

By the time I got home, I was done.  Exhausted.  Went to lay on my bed for a minute, woke up an hour and a half later.  Finally dragged myself out to the barn to visit the kiddo.

He's pastured in the back forty right now, probably because he screams for the mares every time he rediscovers them.  Anyways, previously, we went through a different pasture to get to the back pasture.  Now, I go through the big pasture to get to him.  All of this is to say that there is a slip-through and I love it.  I normally disconnect the hot wire, grab his halter, slip the superfluous bit of the chain off the holder and dip under the hot wire connector.  No problemo.


Last night, though, I derped in two magical ways, which just made the experience that much more lovely:

I held on to the chain and didn't dip low enough.

And my wonderful, stupid self became a fun conduit for the electrical fencing.  I lost my breath, my jaw slammed shut, and I petered back out the way I came, clutching my head.  I texted D pretty promptly and he broke it down for me.


So instead of doing the little petty thing I'd planned on (bareback ride through the woods), I parked myself on a lawn chair and watched my pony eat.

In case anyone was wondering, I didn't accept the job offer from the vet's office.  I told her that I would pass the word that she was looking, but that I was content where I am.

The weather has been random lately.  Friday, after the vet visit, I had all intentions of riding.  As we were leaving the office, I had to scrap those plans due to the rolling thunder.  Is this a me thing?  Rain, fine.  Thunder?  Fuck no.  I ended up just going out to the barn and giving Archie a solid grooming, some treats and his beet pulp.

This was disgusting.

You can kinda sorta see the sprinkles on his sun-bleached coat.

While he ate his beet pulp and generally hung out, I opened my most recent SmartPak and discovered that my newest bottles of fly spray had exploded.  I got a whopping $10 to cover the clean up and loss.  Woo.

It leaked all over the cardboard box and the wrapping on the supplements.

Or, I'm an asshole.



The video:
→ First two goes from right to left, jumping 2' at the center and then 2'3" on the left.  Does well.

Pretty.

→ Course change, 2'3" on left and 2'6" at center, poles removed from far right.
→ First go, from left to right, I bury him.  I do nothing to assist through the line.

Hanging knees of doom.

To your grave, Wonder Pony!

→ Second go, from left to right, he does everything correctly.  I get air time after the second fence and evidently pretend that I'm jumping down a bank.

Weee... I'm an asshole.

→ Third go, I kill our motor and Archie peters out between the fences.  I don't count this as a refusal, I consider this a stupid rider.  You can sorta hear me say something like, Gotta go faster!
→ Fourth go, Archie, tired now, nails the fence with his hind left.  His shit head rider just feels that things are "off", not that her horse is three-legged lame between fences.

This is what a three-legged canter looks like.

→ Course change to 2'3" on left and half an X in center.
→ Pony is very cautious the first time, but hits the rail on the 2'3" the second time.

Ugh.  I feel like a shitty horse owner and a shitty rider.  I keep watching this video, over and over, and seeing all the things that went wrong.  I will say:  confidence is not an issue.  2'6" looks just like 2'3", even when I discover that it's not actually 2'6".

Pros:
→ My horse is an athletic beast who can still carry us safely over fences even after his shithead rider buries him grave deep into the base.
→ Archie has an incredible, incredible, work ethic.
→ He forgives.
→ I have sort of enough sense to say "this isn't right" and to make the questions easier.

Cons:
→ I lack skill.
→ While the Kid can successfully (though, that's debatable) clear the heights I ask him to jump, he is not at the fitness level to do it multiple times.
→ I offer no direction between fences.  Pushing him forward so that he chipped less would have solved the majority of our problems.  I know the line works as a one-stride.  There's no reason that he shouldn't do an easy land-stride-jump instead of a land-stride-chip-eat fence-scramble over.  Also, forward would have helped with the actual clearing of these little fences.  Derp derp.

What now?
→ More jumping.  This might be adverse to common thought, but we need to practice the motions and build the muscles.  Except, not at 2'3 - 2'6", because he wears out too quickly and gets sloppy.
→ More pole work, strengthening that hind end.
→ Add in some long, slow distances to build his stamina.  Maybe Sundays just need to be our trail ride days and we need to go out for a couple hours and intersperse walking, power walking, trotting and slow canters.

The best.  Before I got air time.

O RLY?!

I was super duper excited about offering another tutorial.  Because I've got the fucking patents on drilling holes in 4x4s and screwing walls.

I was at Joann's a few weekends ago, buying fleece fabric because Savannah has destroyed all 400 beds that she gets to lay on unsupervised.  She digs into them in an attempt to reshape them.  After duct-taping the last one's shredded fabric and pulling out the chunks of foam, I realized that I didn't want anyone to walk into my house and think that I was supplying my dogs such a fucking ugly bed.  So, piles of fleece it is.

Anyways, while wandering for the fluffiest fleece, I stumbled upon the tulle.  I have no use for this stuff, never really thought about it before.  I make neither tu-tus nor those weird tulle wreaths.  But I thought that by layering the mesh, I could have a fabulous fly boot option.  I'll keep this (somewhat) brief.

Measured, cut and folded.

Sewed pieces together and along the diagonal, for stability.  Added fleece remnants to the top for comfort.

Added industrial velcro and secured with additional fleece.  Also, FYI, sewing through something with an adhesive back will fuck up your needle and cause your machine to make angry noises.  Since my machine is a mini, it growled like a kitten.

Finished pieces!

Little big, but seemed secure!

And the next morning.  :(

This warrants more explanation:

• We have crossed this bridge multiple times:
• As a group of seven in my post, Trail. Hell.
• With OR, Bene-Fiber-Ficial.
• And with OR and TE, At the Starting Gate.

With OR.

• It was approximately a mile and a half back to the barn.  I hand-walked him for a little while until I was sure that he was sound and the excitement of having something collapse beneath you had passed.
• I dismounted again when it came time to cross the major street and proceeded to hand walk him until we had passed all the muddy areas and were back on flat, solid land.
• When I was untacking him and checking him over, I noticed the blood.  It was probably a dime-size-ish and a scrape, not a puncture.  Archie got completely cleaned up and given a little bute for the ordeal.  He also got the next day off.

First notice, while untacking.

After cleaning up a bit.

And prettier, happier photos: