Or, "I Drank a Lot of Beer This Weekend."

After a crappy day at work on Friday that required I stay late being yelled at, I got to the barn later than I had hoped.  I managed all of twenty minutes in the saddle before I had to feed the Kid and haul ass away.  There was no peaceful moment or tranquil walk in the woods:  all forward, forward, forward, and go, goddammit.  The jumps were set up for the lesson that didn't happen last week, and I'll admit:  we jumped a little crossrail.  And by "jump", I mean he trotted over it like a school pony.

It was a rush and I have to wonder if the benefit of twenty minutes in the saddle and exercise and reinforcing stuff is worth feeling like I can't take my time.

He got hosed and fed, because I have to consider time to do that stuff, and then I ran home and picked up the husband.  We stopped by the pharmacy four minutes before it closed to pick up Savannah's second two-week dose of antibiotics for the UTI THAT WILL NOT DIE.  Then it was a quick dash to pick up her prescription dog food (which, vet has said, she'll be on for the rest of her life).  And, finally, beer.  And food.  But mostly beer.

Beer.

Whilest shopping.

Saturday started with orange creme cinnamon rolls (from a can).  A Harry Potter marathon.  Working out at the gym (biceps, shoulders, back, triceps).  A little bit of shopping and lunch of greasy, cheesy sammiches and fresh cut fries at Five Guys.  Cupcakes and breaking the lawn mower (I ran over chicken wire).  Going downtown and having more beer, some nachos and a veggie burger.

Sweet Potato beer!

Sunday, I pretty much demanded that we go to the beach.  And we were both in a foul mood that didn't resolve until I drug my personal Powder to the ocean's banks.  We spent a couple hours there and went to a new restaurant for lunch on the way back in to town.  Weren't good.  Neither was the Whole Foods.  Alas, it did not compare to my beloved Trader Joe's.

We needed space.

BABY TURTLES!

We spent a little time recovering and cleaning up and watching more Harry and eating leftover cupcakes.  Then it was a mad blitz to drop him off at the gym while I went to take photos at the Humane Society.  In breeches, Tevas and a tank top, because I'm super fucking classy.  The woman helping me yesterday was absolutely phenomenal and matched my enthusiasm for the photo-taking.  They walk a fine line - wanting to do their jobs, be good at their jobs, enrich the lives of the animals, but also not get too attached to animals that will be euthanized if they aren't placed.

Soda Pop is the floppiest kitten ever.  I wanted to sneak her home!

Then I picked up the husband and we went out to the barn.  Unfortunately, I have no videos or photos because the hubs opted to watch TV in my car instead.  :(

I grabbed the Kid and cleaned him up.  I had a can of Scarlet Oil explode in my tack trunk, so I'm still soaking some of my brushes.  PITA.  Anyways, I tacked him up pretty quickly.  I'm not sure why, but the jumps that had been jumps were knocked down to just poles.  I worked pretty hard on getting contact, while also trying to fix this whole I'm-posting-way-too-fucking-high thing.  After trotting him a bit, we did a little course of trot poles.  Then I asked for the canter.

I stood in two-point and something magical happened (as I'm supposing T3 knew would happen, as she recommended it).  My heels sunk to a new depth and I found so much more space for my legs that didn't require me to come half a foot out of the saddle.  I've really been having a problem with this.  It felt so much more comfortable.

We finished the work by cantering one of the trot poles in both directions.  I had to remind myself to sit tall, get my shoulders back, and ride him to the base of the pole.  I'm so ready to jump.

The mohawk mane is starting to flip, just to indicate how long we've been at the new barn.

We went on a little walk to cool out.

I eats.