Archie threw another shoe.  I should be tracking this shit, but I haven't been.  I know the last shoe was about three months ago, because I ig'd it.  As it is, he gets shod every six weeks.  The farrier wants to move up to a five week schedule, because all the horses' feet look like crap.  Yay, crumbly feets!  Thanks, summer storms!  Hopefully, the farrier will be by and will tack the shoe on and we can resume what had been my plan for the remainder of at least July:  trot poles.  Trot poles out the ass.

Old photo.

We did this configuration a couple of weeks ago, which I hope to repeat, but harder:

The trick is to not just go down the center, but either side.

I took Friday off from the barn due to rain.  Instead, I compiled the little mementos that I'd kept from our "first" show, coupled it with some photos I'd printed out at CVS, and shoved all that shit into a shadow box.  Still not sure where I'm going to put this stuff, because I want it to be somewhere I can regularly see it.

I got the text about the shoe on Saturday morning.  Since it'd been raining, I still opted to ride because I knew the ground would be softer.  We only did about a mile and as soon as I felt him shorten, we stopped.  I know it's poor form to ride a shoeless pony, but I also know this Kid like the back of my hand.  Really need to invest in boots for him.

I don't know if this is a spider carcass or a spider molting.  Regardless, freaked me out.

And then we had pony cuddles.

Unexpected things happen unexpectedly.

A couple of weeks ago, the Eventer mentioned that she would be having a shindig at her house to watch a movie and talk show season.  The eventing show season, obv.  I filed this in the back of my mind and forgot about it.

OR asked me a few days ago if I was going.  I was still wavering up until the very last moment, but did actually make an appearance last night (proud, L?).  I only stayed for about an hour, but before I left we talked about clinics.  Everything happens at least two hours away.  Sad face.

I told them that I would be interested in a clinic, in these fancy trainers.  Names were thrown left and right (a Misty?  Missy?  A Shultz or something?), but they flew right past me.  And then I left.

Quarter sheet, FTW.

Fast forward to today.  I've got a lesson with T3, who I haven't seen in what feels like a really long time.  And I won't see her again for about six weeks.  She gave us notice that she would be in town and arranged private lessons for the three of us that normally took... as well as for OR, who wanted some jump schooling.  I was second in the line up and made sure that I rode last night, since he had a couple of days off.  It was 38 degrees last night and dude was not happy.

Right before my phone died.

So, I pull him out of the pasture, pull off his sheet and start grooming.  He's got a hind leg cocked, but almost always rests that back end.  And then I notice a scrape.  When I touched it, he flickered just a little bit, but the wound wasn't warm.  I kept grooming, tacked up, and mounted.  The first lesson was running behind, so I ended up walking him in the grass for about twenty minutes.

When I entered the ring, I told T3 that Archie had been nailed in the hind leg, but that he seemed sound on it.  I picked up a trot and she told me to push him a little more through his back end and he responded by kicking out and then cantering.  I brought him back to a trot and she asked if he felt off to me.  He didn't.  She said that he wasn't quite right.  She thought maybe he could work out of it, so I changed direction.  She then told me to do a circle.  And Dude was off.

I dismounted and we looked at the wound.  I put my hand around it and he actively flinched and it was obviously warm.  Conclusion?  Archie got nailed right before I pulled him out of the pasture.

I cold hosed his leg, buted him and applied some topical ointments.  I'll check him tomorrow, but won't try to ride again until Monday.


Since I had a shit ton of free time, I pulled my camera out of the trunk of my car and started taking photos of OR riding in her lesson.  She did great and her horse is just developing into a freaking beast.  It's awesome to watch.

After her lesson, I asked her what happened at the shindig after I left.  She said that they had discussed going cross country schooling in a little city outside of Columbia, SC.  It's about two and a half hours away.  In the discussion.. um.. space wasn't left for me and Archie.  OR said that they could try to shuffle some things around to make room, but it would be difficult.

I feel naive.

I went to the barn last night, already dark, to ride.  I encountered the BM, who sent me a text about a trail ride this weekend, and the other boarding OTTBer.  In conversation about the trail ride, to better distinguish if it was going to be another marathon on the highway or a mild gathering of wood walkers, BM said that the Eventer wasn't going to be there, of course.  Er, what?  I had to get clarity on the "of course", because it wasn't obvious to me.

And then I find out that her horse had surgery on Monday.  It wasn't the medical-emergency sort of surgery, thankfully.  And I have to give her the benefit of doubt that I just haven't seen her in a couple weeks and that's why she didn't tell me in person.  You know, because now we aren't going to the November show either.  Bootgate?  Null and void.  Gots plenty of time for those babies to arrive!  I'm a cynic who got her hopes up, but not that far up... because, dude.  Still a cynic.

BM also gave me news that devastated me considerably more.

T3 is leaving.

This.

She got an offer in North Carolina.  In respect for her privacy, I've always tried to be a touch evasive about her personal information (hence the nickname).  But... she's a USHJA certified instructor who has experience teaching at colleges.  And by far the best instructor I've ever had.  I'm kicking myself for not having taken far more lessons with her, but there is nothing I can do about that now.  She's not going to be available next week, so my last set lesson with her will be 11/20.  If she comes in to town, BM said that she would be available for lessons, but that'll be sporadic.  I asked if we could kidnap her.

I was able to clear my mind of all that clutter and got in an incredibly good ride.  Archie was responsive and balanced and just.. everything I've ever wanted from him.  He didn't give a single damn about riding by arena light.  I actually remembered to move his hips over tracking left and he just flowed.  I had contact, I had lift and I could see his tail swinging by shadow.  Dude felt amazing.

These lights were AMAZING.  Also, that's the moon in the upper left.

That's a hard thing to swallow, for multiple reasons.  Like: 1) It means I'm not in control.  2) It implies that something "greater" is at work.  3) And it's generally a platitude spewed when things don't work out your way.  Imagine my surprise when my there-is-no-greater-than-us husband said it to me, as I sat with my smokey Subie on the side of the road.

That's not good, right?

I was super excited.  I had another surprise and I didn't want to tell anyone about it because it made me incredibly nervous.  Like, pop half a Xanax before leaving the house because the nerves are eating me alive already and I'm not even at the barn yet.

BM had invited me on a group trail ride.

I knew, from another boarder, roughly what to expect.  Five or so riders and an easy two hours in the surrounding trails.  I've joked with her multiple times about our trail-sucking OTTBs who either chase off the other horses, chase after the other horses, or refuse to enter the woods altogether.  I'd also lamented the fact that it has been years since I've cantered a horse in the woods and, dammit, I miss that.

But it wasn't meant to be.

I texted BM to tell her that my car was acting up.  They offered to wait a while for me.  After inspecting a pipe spraying the overly-hot radiator with fluid, I told her that I wouldn't be able to make it at all.  It took me about an hour to get the Subie the three miles back to the house, stopping frequently to let the engine cool.

Britches, half-chaps, boots, a gallon of water, and a piece of shit.

When I stole my husband's much nicer car to go to the barn yesterday, I learned that the trail ride had reached epic proportions.  Not only had there been ten horses with eleven riders (a kid tucked up front), they had gone out for three and a half hours.  Part of their journey had involved walking BESIDE A HIGHWAY.  You know, with CARS.  Aw, fuck no.  BM even said that she wasn't keen on that part, but wasn't leading.  I'm not even comfortable riding trail-broke horses beside active roads.  People are idiots (I'm no exception when it comes to driving).

So maybe it happened for a reason.

Friday night, compliments of Wallpaper's Good 4 It.

Hi, Mom!

Oh, hey, check out the last post for a freaking giveaway, guys!

I feel like this weekend was an odd mixture of success and failure.

On Friday, we worked more on what we learned on Wednesday.  She told me to intersperse the hard counterbending canter work with regular trot, so that's what we did.  I know Archie was still sore because I could feel it in his body.  I'm vacillating between two sets of spurs on SmartPak.  One is the regular Tom Thumb that she recommended and the other is like the Tom Thumb with a tiny nub.

I dropped the whip somewhere half way through the ride, because, let's face, I'm a giant pansy.  We still had two brilliant moments of movement.  I felt float tracking right at the trot.  He couldn't sustain it for more than a few strides, but he lifted up and his front end became light and airy.  And at the canter, we were counterbending tracking left and we achieved in a lap or two what had taken most of the lesson.  Smart Kid.

I figured that we were due for some lighter work on Saturday, so I hopped on and bypassed the ring for the trail.  We've made a point to walk on the trail every single ride.  It's been two weeks and I've probably ridden nine or ten times or something.  So he's been on the trail a lot.  Color me surprised when he completely lost his shit because a tree fell way off in the distance - it had already been cleared to the side, so the trail was passable - but Archie was absolutely positive that it was an alligator crawled out of the muck or some other horse-eating monster.  No amount of cajoling worked.  As soon as we got to that part of the trail, he would slam on the brakes and spin backwards.  I would have let this happen, except he almost backed into a ditch.  I finally dismounted, dragged him the necessary five feet, remounted and kept going.  Glad, too, because we found the end of that branch of the trail.

I could totally see myself enjoying a few beers here.

We worked in the round pen on Sunday.  I needed a break from the saddle (I hurt!) and I really wanted to see how he was in the pen.  He listened to my body language pretty well and after a bit of trotting and cantering in both directions, I started getting some lip-smacking and chewing.  I turned my shoulder to him, facing mostly away, and in a few seconds I had a horse huffing at my elbow.  It was one of those magical moments that reaffirms all this stuff that we go through for them.

This is better, right?  Stepping up with that outside hind?

I gave him a bath last night as the Kid gets dirty.  If I leave a fly mask on, he's almost guaranteed to have sand under it.  And he's sweating a ton!  His coat will be covered in salt crystals by the time I see him in the afternoon.  It also rained before I got there, so he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to roll.  Love this guy.

See the sandy eye-boogers and the coat?!

In other life stuff, the largest crisis at home happens to be moles.  And Savannah's affinity for digging up the yard in pursuit.  We've spent a lot of time and money growing grass in our previously-weed-infested yard, so this is disappointing.  We spent Saturday morning burying chicken wire at the base of the fence.  Then mowing the lawn and spraying mole repellent into the grass.  I'm not a fan of the mole traps, but D purchased one.  So far, it's been unsuccessful.  (Woo?)  Tonight, we're going to try some other homeopathic things to help Savannah stop digging.

I'm an artist.

After all that hard work on Saturday, we skipped out on the gym.  We ate lunch at the local Mexican restaurant and picked up some sweets from the local grocery store.  The afternoon was spent sitting in the darkened living room, watching Harry Potter, eating sugar and drinking beer.

Sunday, I photographed at the Humane Society.  They've had a lot of structural changes lately with three of the regular staff leaving.  So, things are messier and more complicated and I have less help.  I won't work with one or two people because they think that choke holds are appropriate.  Beyond all that, though, I left the shelter really, really disheartened.  A fully trained pibble/Shepard mix is (was?) slated to be euthanized because "he's been there too long."  I knew this place was a kill shelter when I started there.  And I know that some of the pets that I've spent time photographing and playing with have since been euthanized.  But this dog.  Man.  I told him to sit and his butt slammed into the ground.  I told him to lay and he immediately dropped.  I tossed a treat and he jumped to catch it.  He's no longer on the website.