It's raining. Time for music. Shout out to Dan for his influences of Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Young. (Playlist.com didn't have "Raining in Baltimore", or I'd have added that, too.)
Also, sorry to Dan that this list includes Adele. Because I know how he feels about Adele.
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5.20.2013
5.16.2013
Einstein Had Cable
"When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity."
-Albert Einstein
This is sort of how I feel when I'm home sick and totally miserable and there's been nothing on TV all day, and then suddenly COPS is on.
-Albert Einstein
This is sort of how I feel when I'm home sick and totally miserable and there's been nothing on TV all day, and then suddenly COPS is on.
5.09.2013
Deep Horse Thoughts
I love that I took two days off of work for a horse show. Showcation, as I like to call it. For work, I wake up at 6 so I can go in and sit at a nice desk in business casual attire and leave at 5.
For showcation, I wake up at 5, put on a button up shirt and choker, jewelry, breeches, and impeccably shined knee boots. I try all day to keep said shirt and breeches clean while I groom, braid, muck stalls, and ride like the dickens. I will go home around 8, and do it all over again tomorrow.
But that moment after your best and hardest class full of highs and lows, when It's just you and your horse taking sweaty tack off and together you exhale the day- wow. When a 1000 pound creature cozies up and closes her eyes when you hold her head and breathe in her nose- wow. When you realize this horse doesn't know you don't own her but merely sizes you up by the sum of your lovely experiences- wow. It's hard to describe without it sounding trite, but when a horse lets you in, you never forget it.
I have made peace with the fact that my time with Minnie is temporary because all horse relationships are. It's stupid that lives change, people change, horses go lame, and that we outlive them by 50 years. But it's reality. So you take and you give while you can with all your heart.
I've only been riding her for a month, and Minnie has already given me back her part of my old broken horse soul- affection.
And stuff like that just doesn't happen at the office.
For showcation, I wake up at 5, put on a button up shirt and choker, jewelry, breeches, and impeccably shined knee boots. I try all day to keep said shirt and breeches clean while I groom, braid, muck stalls, and ride like the dickens. I will go home around 8, and do it all over again tomorrow.
But that moment after your best and hardest class full of highs and lows, when It's just you and your horse taking sweaty tack off and together you exhale the day- wow. When a 1000 pound creature cozies up and closes her eyes when you hold her head and breathe in her nose- wow. When you realize this horse doesn't know you don't own her but merely sizes you up by the sum of your lovely experiences- wow. It's hard to describe without it sounding trite, but when a horse lets you in, you never forget it.
I have made peace with the fact that my time with Minnie is temporary because all horse relationships are. It's stupid that lives change, people change, horses go lame, and that we outlive them by 50 years. But it's reality. So you take and you give while you can with all your heart.
I've only been riding her for a month, and Minnie has already given me back her part of my old broken horse soul- affection.
And stuff like that just doesn't happen at the office.
5.03.2013
Confession
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| It's because of people taking pictures like this with their Friesians that Dan will never let me live it down if I buy one. |
But you guys, this one time when I was living in DC, I got scammed. Now I was lucky enough to get out of hot water before I lost anything, but a nigerian internet scammer did manage to convince me that he had a house for rent in DC for $700 that had a barn and a botanical garden. Even though the address he gave me was for the projects.
I was new to Craigslist, okay?
So yesterday when I was looking through the online horse ads on my lunch break, I was pretty steamed to see an ad that claimed to have a fully trained, 5 year old, purebred Friesian for sale in Utah for $1,000. Just to give you some perspective, a five year old fully trained purebred Friesian would normally sell for at least $10,000, unless he had some kind of lameness or terminal disease, and even still maybe that. Also, Friesians are the scammer breed of choice, because no horse loving woman on earth is immune to their hotness, and everyone wants a deal on their dream horse.
So I did a terrible, terrible thing. I trolled them.
I started by being upfront that I knew they were scammers, asked them to please take their ads down, and please stop pestering nice horse people. In that amazing google-translated scammer english, they repeatedly insisted they were not scammers, that the horse was in Portland, and if I give her my credit card number to pay my delivery fee, the horse will be on my doorstep tomorrow morning. (side note: please don't ever leave your horse on my doorstep. My house is too small.) And so, I changed my tune.
"Oh, okay. Well my horse trainer is actually in Portland right now. Where do you live? I'll have him come over and see him, you can ride him first and he will ride him after you. He's free all day today."
I was sure "she" wouldn't write back. But she did. She proceeds to give me the address to her house to come and see her horse, which is the address to what I believe is the tallest business tower in downtown Portland. Hilarious. She then pleads with me to "wear your understanding shoes and reason with me okay.I understand your situation but you have to take this brave step to have what you will never regret in life." Coincidentally, I am in fact wearing my understanding shoes today, guys.
I know. I KNOW I should have stopped this Tom Foolery. This is a human being. But I figure for every minute I tie "her" up trying to reason with me, she's not putting up more scammer ads. Does that in any way justify this abominable behavior against a fellow human being who happens to be trying to steal my money? Probably not.
"No, I want my trainer to see and ride the horse before I buy it. Where is the horse located? The address you gave is for a business tower in downtown Portland. Does your horse live in the Flying Elephants Delicatessen on the third floor? (there really is a Deli called that in the building she directed me to. I consider that notable.)
Oh, I almost forgot to mention. My trainer is an Olympic dressage trainer. He taught the great Warmblood, Ravel, how to shake hands like a person. He will be so excited to meet you and your horse!"
I was sure that this was over the top enough that they wouldn't write back. Wrong.
She didn't have anything nice to say about my trainer, who taught Ravel to shake hands. She was very hung up on this delivery service. Imagine that.
"Like i said,you are proving real stubborn accepting the fact that delivery will be the best.I talked with the company yesterday that i have a buyer who is very skeptical about delivery.I was told that at first the used to pay upon arrival of pets.Just that customers misused this opportunity and so the management passed a new law saying that all delivery must be confirmed by an upfront payment."
It's a law, guys. Now can I please have your credit card number for the delivery and all your other personal details for the purpose of identity theft?
Since she didn't answer my question, I didn't answer hers.
"I'm starting to wonder if Damon is maybe just a cat...."
Her response is genius, and does not address my question concerning cathood. To boil it down, (I had to read it about 100 times to get it) she says, okay, if you don't want to pay for the delivery, give me your credit card numbers to pay for the HORSE, and then SHE would pay to have him delivered. Yes, that makes ALL my problems go away.
I NEED FINAL DECISION, she says.
"Yes, absolutely, I have a final answer for you.
My trainer is there in Portland waiting to ride the horse! Once you tell me where the horse is, my trainer will meet you there, ride the horse, pay you the $1000 you asked for the horse (in cash), and then will drive the horse home in his horse trailer. We are not using your delivery service. Where is the horse, and what time should my trainer meet you at the barn?
Also, please have an obstacle course set up in the arena that Reginald can ride the horse across. I want to be sure he's not afraid of guns or snakes. Thanks!"
I was sure that this was over the top enough that they wouldn't write back. Wrong.
She didn't have anything nice to say about my trainer, who taught Ravel to shake hands. She was very hung up on this delivery service. Imagine that.
"Like i said,you are proving real stubborn accepting the fact that delivery will be the best.I talked with the company yesterday that i have a buyer who is very skeptical about delivery.I was told that at first the used to pay upon arrival of pets.Just that customers misused this opportunity and so the management passed a new law saying that all delivery must be confirmed by an upfront payment."
It's a law, guys. Now can I please have your credit card number for the delivery and all your other personal details for the purpose of identity theft?
Since she didn't answer my question, I didn't answer hers.
"I'm starting to wonder if Damon is maybe just a cat...."
Her response is genius, and does not address my question concerning cathood. To boil it down, (I had to read it about 100 times to get it) she says, okay, if you don't want to pay for the delivery, give me your credit card numbers to pay for the HORSE, and then SHE would pay to have him delivered. Yes, that makes ALL my problems go away.
I NEED FINAL DECISION, she says.
"Yes, absolutely, I have a final answer for you.
My trainer is there in Portland waiting to ride the horse! Once you tell me where the horse is, my trainer will meet you there, ride the horse, pay you the $1000 you asked for the horse (in cash), and then will drive the horse home in his horse trailer. We are not using your delivery service. Where is the horse, and what time should my trainer meet you at the barn?
Also, please have an obstacle course set up in the arena that Reginald can ride the horse across. I want to be sure he's not afraid of guns or snakes. Thanks!"
Sadly, I have not heard back yet.
4.17.2013
A List
1. I don't want to talk about America.
2. I would like to talk about Spain. Spain was beautiful. Especially the day that I tasted Falafel for the first time, got a massage at the ancient cave baths, and went to sleep in my darling little apartment with a balcony and a cobblestone street below.
3. I don't want to talk about horses.
4. That's a bad sign.
5. I do want to talk about how weird it is that Tim Riggins is my crush on Friday Night Lights. That is absurd. Except for the long hair, which if you knew my husband sometime between 2004-2011, would make perfect sense.
6. I don't want to talk about the weather, or the fact that I planted my tomatoes too early.
7. I do want to talk about the fact that I currently wear size 8 skinny jeans. It's true, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.
8. I don't want to talk about the direction of my life.
9. Well, I do and I don't.
10. Here's the thing. You know how if you're in a boat that's supposed to have two oars, but you only have one oar, you spend a lot of time either going in circles, over-correcting, or going very very slowly? I was one oar. And now Dan is the other oar. So now we go places faster and easier, and we have an awesome boat. I just don't know where I want to go in it.
11. Well, I do and I don't.
12. Jeoffrey the Cat has to have this goo every other day that keeps him from getting hairballs. It's liver malt flavored, and his favorite thing in the world. He eats it out of the tube, and when he's had enough and I take it away, he stands on his hind legs and swats at me, claws out, because he is so enraged that he isn't allowed to consume all the goo. Taking away this cat's goo is pretty much the only power I have over him, and I relish it.
13. What a terrible number to stop on.
2. I would like to talk about Spain. Spain was beautiful. Especially the day that I tasted Falafel for the first time, got a massage at the ancient cave baths, and went to sleep in my darling little apartment with a balcony and a cobblestone street below.
3. I don't want to talk about horses.
4. That's a bad sign.
5. I do want to talk about how weird it is that Tim Riggins is my crush on Friday Night Lights. That is absurd. Except for the long hair, which if you knew my husband sometime between 2004-2011, would make perfect sense.
6. I don't want to talk about the weather, or the fact that I planted my tomatoes too early.
7. I do want to talk about the fact that I currently wear size 8 skinny jeans. It's true, nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.
8. I don't want to talk about the direction of my life.
9. Well, I do and I don't.
10. Here's the thing. You know how if you're in a boat that's supposed to have two oars, but you only have one oar, you spend a lot of time either going in circles, over-correcting, or going very very slowly? I was one oar. And now Dan is the other oar. So now we go places faster and easier, and we have an awesome boat. I just don't know where I want to go in it.
11. Well, I do and I don't.
12. Jeoffrey the Cat has to have this goo every other day that keeps him from getting hairballs. It's liver malt flavored, and his favorite thing in the world. He eats it out of the tube, and when he's had enough and I take it away, he stands on his hind legs and swats at me, claws out, because he is so enraged that he isn't allowed to consume all the goo. Taking away this cat's goo is pretty much the only power I have over him, and I relish it.
13. What a terrible number to stop on.
3.29.2013
Dénouement
Despite my immune system's plan to thwart my every ambition, I've had good successes the past few weeks.
Stressful at times? Yes. Visual payoff? Harldy. Worth it? Imma say yes, because today is a good day.
I got some good connections out of the Expo, and I did not wuss out. I actually had a great time, and I almost, and I really mean ALMOST, bought one of the trainer's challenge horses. That would have been a mistake, but a good one.
You came here for horse drama updates, didn't you? OF COURSE YOU DID.
After much back and forth, feverish delirious mind-racing torture, I decided to call mom and make her an offer.
___________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________
In the end, Posie had some major question marks that could potentially stand in the way of her and I being perfect partners for each other, but those question marks meant absolutely nothing to my mother, who in the words of the Disney movie BRINK! is a "soul-rider". Like Brink, the talented in-line skater prodigy, mother doesn't ride for glory. She rides for fun. I only want a little glory. County Fair glory. Is that so much to ask?
So happy, calm, thinner Posie will go back to her real mother, to roll in the mud and scratch on ranch posts, and groom her mustang boyfriend Ralphy in the hot summer ranch sun. And I am going to be brave, and branch out. I'll start tonight by signing lease papers, and trying out every available horse for rent in the barn. Leasing grants me lessons, and leasing grants me horses I couldn't otherwise afford for awhile. How long that will last or what will come after? Don't know.
But I do know that Posie will be happier, and I will somehow learn to live without her noisy hungry chatter greeting me every day. Her fake hysterics when I fill her water buckets. Her gooey eyes and drooped lip when I scratch her jowls just right. (who else on earth likes getting their jowls scratched??)
I feel like every horse I ride now is giving me back one piece of the complete puzzle I had with horses as a kid. Posie's piece was Laughter.
That was a good piece.
Stressful at times? Yes. Visual payoff? Harldy. Worth it? Imma say yes, because today is a good day.
I got some good connections out of the Expo, and I did not wuss out. I actually had a great time, and I almost, and I really mean ALMOST, bought one of the trainer's challenge horses. That would have been a mistake, but a good one.
You came here for horse drama updates, didn't you? OF COURSE YOU DID.
After much back and forth, feverish delirious mind-racing torture, I decided to call mom and make her an offer.
___________________________________________________________________________
"Hello Martha." (this is what I call my mother as of late, despite the fact that her name is not Martha.)
"Hi Stinky, whatcha doing?" (This is what my mother has always called me. It's my name.)
"Well, I was at the barn, and I think I found the perfect horse for you. I know you're still sore and you'll have to take it easy, but this is a nice horse. Older mare, 13 years old, mustang, pretty short, great on the trails, totally adorable, and she has been getting ridden all winter. The only problem is that she doesn't pick up her right lead, so she'll never make a show horse."
"Ha, how nice of you to horse shop for me. Your father LOVES that idea, I'm sure. Get MORE horses."
"Ummmm, would it help if you knew that she was free?"
"There's no such thing as a free horse-"
"OHGOODLORDMOTHER, YOUR HORSE, I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR HORSE, POSIE, AT THIS BARN, THAT'S FREE BECAUSE YOU ALREADY OWN HER."
"Oh. Yeah, that might work."
____________________________________________________________________________
In the end, Posie had some major question marks that could potentially stand in the way of her and I being perfect partners for each other, but those question marks meant absolutely nothing to my mother, who in the words of the Disney movie BRINK! is a "soul-rider". Like Brink, the talented in-line skater prodigy, mother doesn't ride for glory. She rides for fun. I only want a little glory. County Fair glory. Is that so much to ask?
So happy, calm, thinner Posie will go back to her real mother, to roll in the mud and scratch on ranch posts, and groom her mustang boyfriend Ralphy in the hot summer ranch sun. And I am going to be brave, and branch out. I'll start tonight by signing lease papers, and trying out every available horse for rent in the barn. Leasing grants me lessons, and leasing grants me horses I couldn't otherwise afford for awhile. How long that will last or what will come after? Don't know.
But I do know that Posie will be happier, and I will somehow learn to live without her noisy hungry chatter greeting me every day. Her fake hysterics when I fill her water buckets. Her gooey eyes and drooped lip when I scratch her jowls just right. (who else on earth likes getting their jowls scratched??)
I feel like every horse I ride now is giving me back one piece of the complete puzzle I had with horses as a kid. Posie's piece was Laughter.
That was a good piece.
 |
| Doesn't she totally look like she is saying something condescending in this picture? |
 |
| Like Tina Fey, she is not only funny, but super hot. |
 |
| To quote When Harry Met Sally, "I love the way you get that little crinkle over your eye when you're looking at me like I'm nuts." |
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| Angry Serious Model Faces (you have no idea how hard it is to try and fit a whole horse head in a selfie. Pretty much impossible.) |
3.13.2013
Exposition
This weekend is the Utah Horse Expo. I'm excited. I'm scared.
I'm scared because I'm going to be there representing myself as the Editor of The Utah Trotter. Once people put my face to this thing, there's kind of no going back. And I don't want to wuss out like I did two years ago. (So much wussing out. I talked to one guy shaping hats before crawling into a dark hole of fear and shame. I can laugh about it now. Or...a week from now, maybe.)
I've been trying to read lots of motivational quotes about how good ideas look crazy at first, and how to overcome fear, and how you should do what you love and BLAH BLAH BLAH.
So this weekend I'll be at the Expo as a lone representative of my crazy idea that someone ought to be telling the stories of the horse industry- the struggles, the conflicts, the heroes. We ought to start getting to know each other and finding each other's experiences relevant. We ought to be resources and mentors for each other more than we are competitors. We ought to collectively care about the welfare of the industry, the sport, and the animals themselves more than our own isolated experience within it.
With all the differences between people to be mad about in this world, don't you think it's crazy that people who do Show Jumping in Park City think they have nothing in common with people who Barrel Race in Tooele? I do.
So this weekend, I'm going to walk around the Mecca of Utah's Horse Industry and talk to people. I'm going to ask questions and take pictures and not totally wuss out. I'm going to wear my website shirt and hand out business cards. I'm going to try and make sure that enough people know who I am at the end of the day that I will feel too guilty to ever give up.
I covered a story last month about some people who ran out of money, got caught up in a lawsuit, and let their whole herd of horses starve this winter. I had to take pictures of one of their emaciated colts seized by the sheriff's office, who was still alive, fighting, even friendly in spite of all the odds. In my heart, I accidentally named him Jiminy Cricket. He was my conscience.
We should never, ever, get so caught up in our own experience in this industry that Jiminy Cricket ever stops mattering to any of us. I want to help people do better by Jiminy, and this is my way. Connectivity, support, education.
I've decided I'm totally willing to make a fool of myself in order to even try fulfilling that mission. In fact, making a fool of myself should really not be such a stretch. I am 27 years old, and I blog about corn dogs, The Bachelor, and Breyer Horses. You might say I was born to shamelessly insert myself into bizarre situations. I was born to do this. Yeah. I like the sound of that.
.
I'm scared because I'm going to be there representing myself as the Editor of The Utah Trotter. Once people put my face to this thing, there's kind of no going back. And I don't want to wuss out like I did two years ago. (So much wussing out. I talked to one guy shaping hats before crawling into a dark hole of fear and shame. I can laugh about it now. Or...a week from now, maybe.)
I've been trying to read lots of motivational quotes about how good ideas look crazy at first, and how to overcome fear, and how you should do what you love and BLAH BLAH BLAH.
So this weekend I'll be at the Expo as a lone representative of my crazy idea that someone ought to be telling the stories of the horse industry- the struggles, the conflicts, the heroes. We ought to start getting to know each other and finding each other's experiences relevant. We ought to be resources and mentors for each other more than we are competitors. We ought to collectively care about the welfare of the industry, the sport, and the animals themselves more than our own isolated experience within it.
With all the differences between people to be mad about in this world, don't you think it's crazy that people who do Show Jumping in Park City think they have nothing in common with people who Barrel Race in Tooele? I do.
So this weekend, I'm going to walk around the Mecca of Utah's Horse Industry and talk to people. I'm going to ask questions and take pictures and not totally wuss out. I'm going to wear my website shirt and hand out business cards. I'm going to try and make sure that enough people know who I am at the end of the day that I will feel too guilty to ever give up.
I covered a story last month about some people who ran out of money, got caught up in a lawsuit, and let their whole herd of horses starve this winter. I had to take pictures of one of their emaciated colts seized by the sheriff's office, who was still alive, fighting, even friendly in spite of all the odds. In my heart, I accidentally named him Jiminy Cricket. He was my conscience.
We should never, ever, get so caught up in our own experience in this industry that Jiminy Cricket ever stops mattering to any of us. I want to help people do better by Jiminy, and this is my way. Connectivity, support, education.
I've decided I'm totally willing to make a fool of myself in order to even try fulfilling that mission. In fact, making a fool of myself should really not be such a stretch. I am 27 years old, and I blog about corn dogs, The Bachelor, and Breyer Horses. You might say I was born to shamelessly insert myself into bizarre situations. I was born to do this. Yeah. I like the sound of that.
.
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