I have a new trainer.  If you're really stalky-stalky, you can figure out who she is (not a challenge, guys!), but on this blog she'll be Katy.

Katy is a level three certified USEA trainer who once rode Rolex ("many years ago"), has a seven year old Prix St. Georges horse (which seems like a lot of achievement to me), and swooned with me over Denny Emerson (who she's had a meal with!).

After returning from NYC last Monday, I vegged for a few hours and then headed out to the barn with the truck to hook up the trailer.  Whiskey and I were having our first official adventure.

Getting him on the trailer was a lot harder by myself, but I managed.  Definitely something we're going to work on and something that I'll practice between hauls.  Pony needs to self-load like a mofo'ing gentleman.

Fortunately, baby steps, Katy's barn is only about twenty minutes from mine.  As I was pulling up her driveway, I saw one of my friends pull in behind me.  Yay, an audience!

I was super fucking nervous, so I wasn't as appreciative about having my friends there, especially when the second one showed up.  They're invested in me and my horses and my success, so I need to be better about showing my appreciation.  I was so worried about everything else, I didn't have time to worry about Whiskey acting like Archie at a new place and trying to kill me.  This horse is a freaking saint.

When the lesson actually started, Katy asked about our history and our goals.  I want to run BN on this horse and then advance even further in dressage.  She absolutely adored him and remarked constantly on his confirmation and movement.  When I admitted that I paid a dollar for him, she said we were meant to be.  I saw something in this raggedly old Appy, standing in a field with horrible feet and a grass belly.

Lady, save me. 6/15/2016

• I drive with my seat.  I don't even think about it.
• Whiskey is slow to respond to my leg - which I've been using incorrectly.  I need to nudge with my upper calves, then my heel.  I just jump straight to heel and nag nag nag.
• I will forever be riding this horse from inside to outside.  When we're tracking right, it's going to be harder and more insistent and that much more important.
• He's a beautiful mover with a decent stride, but he's just as lazy as his owner.
• Oh and my stirrups, in my jump saddle, are no less than two holes too long.  Bummer.