I Got Picked for the George Morris Jumping Clinic!!

Nope, not the real one as seen in the monthly column in Practical Horseman magazine.  The parody, as seen on one of my favorite equestrian websites, Hillbilly Farms.  If you ever need a good laugh, trot on over to their site, or check out their blog, The Road Apple.  Warning: Not for the humor impaired!  I've turned my barn buddies on to this site, and we laughed so hard we peed ourselves.  Then again, some of us are of a certain age and have had children...

Anyway, Hillbilly Farms does a parody of the George Morris Jumping Clinic that appears in Practical Horseman magazine, and I think it's hysterical, so I submitted an entry. I submitted my favorite bloopers pic, one where Sugar is jumping so hard she jumped out of her shoe (look by her nose) and I am hanging on for dear life.

Happily the folks at Hillbilly Farms thought our entry had what it takes to give the equestrian world a good giggle.  Here's what they had to say:

Jumping Clinic with George Morris

Winning the Battle Against Perfection

This rider's heels are shoved down and she has turned out her toes. To compensate for this weak base of support, she is clinging to her horse with her heels. She needs to relax her legs and sink her weight into her heels.

This rider's insecurities have caused her to stay in the saddle over the fence. She needs to come up out of the saddle and slide her hands up her horse's neck for some semblance of a release. Getting off her horse's back and giving a release will enable the rider to flatten her back, bring her elbows in, and perhaps stop making faces. She needs to look up at her next fence—over a jump is not the time to contemplate what went wrong at her farrier appointment.

This horse is making a huge effort over this moderately sized oxer. Her effort has left the spectators gasping for breath. The horse appears to be jumping with power rather than style. The look on this horse's face tells me she would rather make the decisions than leave such things to her incompetent rider. (Blog Author's note: This is my favorite line in the whole thing - Sug would ABSOLUTELY be much happier if all decisions were left to her!)

This pair's turnout is unremarkable. Their casual turnout is typical for schooling jumper classes. I prefer fitted saddle pads to the square saddle pads that everyone uses these days. The horse is clean and well-groomed, but lacks hoof polish. This pair's performance would improve significantly if the rider invested in some extra nails for her horse's shoes.

       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it, and I'm about as chuffed as if I'd won a Grand Prix!

If you have the time and want a few more chuckles (assuming you found this amusing, and since you've gotten this far, I'm gonna assume you have) I'd recommend:

Hillbilly Farms Dressage Training Scale

Show Gear

Trainer Quotes

Hillbilly Hunter Show MadLibs

My understanding is Hillbilly Farms is located somewhere in Washington State.  It's a pity I'm on the other coast, as I think I'd fit in there...

I Love My Kids, I Swear I Do: Take 2

I had to update y'all after yesterday's post about the challenges of getting the kids ready for their riding lessons.   As much as it can sometimes be stressful (and really, I do realize that some of the stress I bring on myself) I do love the time together our riding brings us.

This morning I got up at o'dark hundred (on a Sunday!!) to watch the FEI Rolex World Cup Show Jumping qualifier from Zurich.  There I was, stretched out on the couch, laptop in lap, latte in hand, watching the best of the best jump GI-NORMOUS 1.60m obstacles and thinking "Why am I such a wuss that I go fetal at 3'?"

About 5 minutes into the competition the Boy wandered in and sat down next to me, and the Girl followed a few minutes after that.  So here we all were, cuddled on the couch and staring at the laptop.  I wish you could have heard the commentary from the peanut gallery. 

"Oh! He's a MILE off that one!"

"Ugh!  Too deep, too deep!"

"Let go of his face!"

"Outside leg, more outside leg!!

"Ride up!"

"Wait for it, wait for it."

"Good turn, sweet turn!"

"Oh, there's Ludger! When does Ludger go? Is that Chaman? I LOVE Chaman!" (Yep, we're BIG Ludger fans.)

Of course all of this was accompanied by hisses, groans, shouts, fist pumps and leg kicks (I have bruises - the Girl kicks like a mule and pays no attention to where she's kicking.)

I really feel so blessed, as I know the horses were the best part of my childhood, and I truly feel as though horses and the time we spend as a family with the horses will be the best part of my kid's childhood. 

And at least I had a good start to the day, which will hopefully stand me in good stead as we have another riding lesson today.  Am keeping fingers crossed that there will be less "cat herding" moments.

I Love My Kids, I Swear I Do...

That being said, sometimes I really feel like beating my head against a wall punting them selling them on eBay like I'm herding cats.  You remember that commercial, right?

You know what I mean, right?  When you try to get kids to go in the same direction at the same time, it's kinda like herding those cats.

Add time pressures into the mix, and you've got the kind of evening that has Mommy reaching for the wine.  The kids had a lesson the other night, so right after work I zipped over to pick up Soph at after school care.  That's an excercise in patience unto itself.  Ms. Social Butterfly takes what feels like an eternity to gather her crap stuff and say goodbye to her legion of fans friends.  Since we no longer had time to make a quick dinner, I swung by McDonalds to grab something for the road (wrong order yet again - FAIL!!!), jetted back home to grab the boy and let the girl get changed, and off we went through 45 minutes of rush hour New Jersey traffic.

Ms. SB has a herd of buddies at the barn, which means that she's easily distracted from her task of tacking up for her lesson.  I try vainly to ride herd on her and keep her on task, while making sure they boy gets Sugar ready in a timely fashion.  He's good on the time thing, just forgets some of the stuff you'd think would be basic by this point in his riding life.  For example, which side the leather part of the girth goes on and which side the elastic should be on, whether or not she should have jumping boots on (yes, you'll be jumping) and how there should be some space between her withers and the saddle pad for comfort.  Don't even get me started on how he puts on her bridle.  I give him a pass on this -- she is pretty tall. 

Meanwhile, the pony is still standing patiently on the cross ties, clad only in jumping boots and a saddle pad, and the girl child is nowhere to be seen.  I check the tack room -nothing.  The bathroom - nope.  I go upstairs by the tack trunk, and as soon as I get to the top of the stairs I hear a rush of little footsteps and when I round the corner,  Sophie is looking very busy in her tack trunk and her buddy is sitting innocently on top of hers.  I separate the two, sending Soph downstairs and manufacturing an errand for the other, buying time so Sophie can finish tacking.

Huge sigh of relief -- both horses are finally tacked, their children gloved, helmeted, and with pony clubs (crops) in hand and the lesson can begin.  I drag my exhausted self upstairs to the viewing room, and thankfully, my girlfriends (bless their hearts) have brought wine.  Sing hallelujah -- there's light at the end of this tunnel.  I nurse a Dixie cup of sauvignon blanc, munch on cheese, and watch the kids ride.  As I am driving and can only have the one glass, I decide it is best for my stress level if I don't supervise the untacking/tack cleaning process. I do check to make sure the girls are correctly put away, with all straps and surcingles in order.  Thankfully, they are.  We turn out the barn lights and head home.

We get home, I send both kids off to bed, pour myself a GENEROUS glass of wine, and pass out on the couch before I can even finish drinking it.  Yep, this parenting thing will take a LOT out of you.

Bonding...

A Boy and His Mare

Confession: I am an only child.  Perhaps you've heard the rumors that sometimes only children have difficulty sharing?  We are capable of learning but, yes, sharing can be a challenge.  There's a famous story in my family about my grandparents, some M&Ms, and a childhood friend.  Goes like this: Nana and Pop Pop came to visit and as they always did, they brought a bag of M&Ms. 

I was playing with a girlfriend at the time, and after the hugs were over and the candy was in my sweaty little palms, I started stuffing my piehole with the M&Ms.  Needless to say, I was not sharing with my girlfriend, and my grandparents chastised me for this.  As the story goes, I turned to Vanna Kay, handed her ONE blue M&M, and announced, "I'm SHARING!"

Time, marriage and motherhood have improved my ability to share -- somewhat.  Case in point, I share my mare with my son.  And tonight I shared my "solo" barn time AND my mare with my son.  To explain, normally Tuesday nights are "my" night at the barn (aka Mom Therapy) and the Hub and the Boy take Sophie to soccer.  However, tonight the Boy wanted to come to the barn and ride.  So off we went.

We had a nice chat on the way down.  We practiced loon calls.  We discussed the migratory pattern of loons and music from the 1980s (not that one has anything to do with the other).  The chat continued while we groomed and fussed over Sugar.  Noah hopped on her first and warmed her up, and when they began to trot I found myself striding around the arena offering pointers and sharing some insights from from a video I'd just seen on EquestrianCoach.com. My ideas seemed to help, the boy felt improvement in his balance, and I felt good for being able to help.  Yay all around.

A Mare and Her Boy

After I rode her for a little bit we let her loose in the indoor to have a roll and play a bit.  Noah and I ran around trying to get her to play tag with us (only possible if we ran while crinkling peppermint wrappers) and after she rolled he groomed her and told her about his day while I cleaned tack.  We blanketed her, kissed her goodnight, made our rounds kissing everyone else goodnight, and headed home.

I started the evening looking forward to some alone time with my mare.  I spent the evening thoroughly enjoying time with my son and our horse.  I guess this sharing thing ain't all that bad.  Who knew?

Just in case you were wondering, I stiill don't share chocolate.  Ever.  Some things don't change.

The Sainted Mare Weighs In On The Hair Issue...

Supporting Cookie through the trauma of mane pulling.

We had a teensy tiny winter weather event here in New Jersey yesterday, which meant that the roads were fouled up for my early morning riding lesson and cleared up by the time my daughter needed to leave for the afternoon soccer game. Sigh. So, the girls had the day off and plenty of time on their hands, as evidenced by this communication from Sugar, which I found in my tack trunk:

Dear Mom,

I'd like to begin a dialogue with you on this whole hair obsession you have.  Or rather, this need of yours to make sure I have none. 

Let me make sure this is clear to you: I grow a long coat in order to stay warm.  You may have noticed that temperatures have been hovering in the teens recently?  When you use the buzzy thing to remove all my hair, I am no longer warm.  It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to render me naked, and then apply layer upon layer of claustrophobia-inducing artificial warmth and the irksome strappy things that hold them on.  You might think I look like the cute kid from A Christmas Story, whomever that may be, but I think I look uncomfortable and  annoyed.

You and your kind are supposed to be the life form capable of higher reasoning.  Based on the behavior mentioned above, I'd have to question if you are really using this ability.


What's wrong with the Po-Po Fro?



 And what's with this sadistic need to yank my mane out by the roots?? Really, the absolute HEIGHT of rudeness! Who arbitrarily decided that manes had to be a certain length or thickness in order to be in fashion? And I have no idea what a bikini line is, nor what it has to do with Brazilians or wax, but I don't think it's relevant to equines and anyway, if it's so painful, why do you DO it?  This makes no sense.

Mom, I love you, but I respectfully suggest you are not fully making use of this supposedly superior human brainpower you have.

PS.  The pony agrees with me.

Love,

Sugar
aka The Sainted Mare

More (Odd? Endearing? Outright Scary?) Horse Junkie Behaviors...

Doesn't Every Mare Owner Dress Her in Pink Ribbons
and Twinkle Toes? The Sainted Mare is Mortified.

I wrote this piece for Horse Junkies United, the wonderful blog for ammie riders that I contribute to.  Thought I'd plug it in here as well, for those of you that don't get over to Horse Junkies -- and if you don't, really, what ARE you waiting for??? ;)  You're missing some really good stuff!

The other day, The Sainted Mare’s supplements were delivered. My husband took the package from the carrier and took a quick look at it, then took a second, harder look. “Isn’t this the same stuff you take?” he asked.


Um, yep, guilty as charged. Different dosage, but essentially the same stuff. He was almost rendered fetal, he was laughing so hard. Hey, I don’t see what’s so amusing. What’s wrong with wanting a glossy coat and well lubricated joints?

This got me to thinking about those little oddities we horse people are known for. Not just the “clucking” at people to make them go faster, or the counting of strides between light poles/mile markers/cracks in the sidewalk, but the other, possibly even weirder, stuff we do.

For instance, have you ever had someone ask you what scent you’re wearing and you have to think a moment before answering, “Sore No More.”. Or Bigeloil, or Vetrolin. No kidding, happens all the time to me.

Or have you ever noticed that horse people have no problem taking their horse’s meds? I had a sinus infection the other week, had no time to get to the doctor, and remembered I’ve heard many friends who’d reported taking some of their horse’s SMZs when faced with similar situations. Heck, I’ve texted a friend asking the proper dosage for Robaxin, only to have her reply, “For you or for the horse?” Wow! I’m not going to dwell too much on that. I even know of one friend who’s been known to dose herself with dewormer. NOTE: Absolutely NONE of these behaviors are in any way recommended, yet (ostensibly) otherwise rational people are doing this.

Speaking of doctors and whatnot, I had to call mine the other week because the Boy was sick and my kids rarely get sick.  They prefer to bring contagion home, give it to me, and move on their happy, healthy way.  Bless their infectious hearts.  Anyhow, the Boy was lethargic and not eating, which is totally unlike him.  The conversation with the doctor started out like this: " Hi Dr. X.  Noah is off his feed."  Luckily my doctor knows about the whole horse obsession and was able to follow along.
Also, have you ever taken a look at a horse person’s desktop, phone wallpaper, or iPad screens? They may be proud parents or have 25 grandkids, but odds are it’s the pony pics you’ll see on the screens. Hey, I”m not judging, I ‘m just calling it like it is.

Then there’s the whole breeding thing. I bet you 90% of the population can’t go more than 2 generations back on their own family tree, yet they can recite their equine partner’s antecedents back to Alexander the Great’s Bucephalus. As for their own reproduction, heck, a couple of adult beverages may have been the impetus for that momentous decision. However, when it comes to deciding who is worthy of breeding to Madame Mare, a screening process more intense than the British Royal Family’s is employed, with dossiers, video, and spreadsheets with genetic info and traits going back 15 generations.

And know how you spot a horse family like mine at sporting events? All the other families are wrapped in fleece blankets or have rain ponchos. My family is wrapped in coolers, waterproof turnout blankets, and wool dress sheets.

Finally, you may realize you’re spending waaaaaaaay too much time in the barn when you’ve needed that “date night” grooming and realized it would be faster and easier to take out the clippers and the old 10 blade than go for the razor?

Again, no judgment here. Not even a little bit. Glass houses and all…

Equestrian Social Media Awards

Check this out: Horse Junkies United, the awesome/amazing/ammie-centric blog I contribute to occassionally has been nominated for 2 (count 'em, TWO!) PagePlayEquestrian Social Media Awards!  We're in the running for Best Blog (#17) and Best Overall in North America.

Congratulations and a round of applause to Patricia, our fearless leader (also the VP of Marketing for ECOGOLD, a leader in innovative saddle pads and horse boots) and the tireless, enthusiastic, knowledgeable and funny bloggers on the site - if you haven't bookmarked HJU as one of your favorite equestrian blogs, what on earth are you waiting for?!

If you have a free moment in your busy day ( I know, what's that?  A free moment? BWAHAHAHA!) can you do me a HUGE favor and VOTE FOR HORSE JUNKIES UNITED???!!!  Can you get your relatives, friends, co-workers, and strangers on the streets to vote as well?  I'd be very grateful.

Thanks, friends!

http://www.equestriansocialmediaawards.com/voting