Role Models...

Soph doing her thing.

You know, having a kid is a complicated thing.  As a parent you're supposed to teach your kid right from wrong even as you continue to make your own mistakes.  You  try to lead by example and hope that in the end you've done more good than bad and that you've raised a decent human being.  Notice I'm not setting the bar overly high here.  I said decent. I'm not expecting the next Bill Gates or Mia Hamm (Although that would be nice. Think of the horses they could buy me!)  I just want them to be good, happy people.

Sophie is now 13, a tricky age at best. Some days we're besties. Others?  Not so much.  Those are the days of  the eye rolling/foot stomping/aggrieved sighing variety where you start to think piercing your nipples and pulling your lower lip over your head would be less painful.  (Yeah, I went there. My blog, my rules.) To paraphrase a friend of mine, many days we're like boxers, punch drunk and just bobbing and weaving and praying to make it to the end of the round.

I think Soph and I really do like each other (Yeah, that bold statement is probably going to swing back and bite me in the ass somehow).  I am continually amazed by her. One second she's a somewhat goofy 13 year-old freckled chatterbox.  On a soccer pitch she's laser-focused and a fierce competitor. Heaven help you if you think you're taking that ball from her.  She's a strong field general, communicating with her team, setting up plays. She has growing pains in her joints that that sometimes leave her hobbling when she walks on the pitch, but she plays through the pain and when she runs down the field you'd never know she was hurting. 

Same thing happens when she rides.  The goofball goes away and she has the intense focus of someone years older. She analyses every move she and her horse make, and rides as if she's thinking five steps ahead all the time.  Me? I'm just thrilled to get to the other side of each jump alive.  If I were to be honest, on one hand I'm totally in awe of her ability to do that, and on the flipside I'm just a bit envious. (Okay, more than just a bit.)

I tell her how she impresses me quite often. 



At the World Cup 
with show jumper  Marco Kutscher.  Squeeeeeee!

Last Sunday were on the way to a soccer match and had stopped at a highway rest station for a Starbucks fix.  As we were climbing back in the truck Sophie says, "Mom, I'm so proud of you for getting this big truck and learning how to drive the trailer.  You are not afraid to try new things, even if you're scared."  She then went on to say how cool it was that I worked so hard to be able to afford to ride, and that I'd started my blog and parlayed that into writing for Horse Junkies United.  She thinks I'm cool because the HJU connection has allowed me to cover competitions like Devon and the Zoetis Million and most recently the Longines FEI World Cup in Las Vegas. She thinks that the fact that I get to talk to and interview famous riders that we watch on live streaming and FEITV "is, like, totally awesome!!"

She inspires me to be stronger, physically and mentally, to go forward even when it hurts.  She's watched me get an EMBA, do I think from that understands the importance that education offers in terms of getting to a place where you can afford to realize a dream. I think she sees from watching me that you can be a woman that succeeds at work in a man's world.  That you can have a family, a passion, and a career, but that it takes a lot of  hard work and you have to go after it, not wait for it to come to you. That you can try new things, even if they scare you, at any point in your life.

Her comments absolutely floored me. ( And damn, did I wish I'd recorded them!) They also got me to thinking: So often we think of sports figures, business tycoons, or other famous folks as role models. I think it's pretty cool that my kid and I found role models a little closer to home.

A Horseless Horse Show...

What do you do when it's a gorgeous Spring day, you're finished with your homework and it's the one day a week when you don't have soccer and/or riding? 

If you're my daughter, you set up some jumps in the front yard and spend an hour pretending you're a famous show jumper.  I think she pictures herself as McLain Ward's Rothchild, because they are both small and feisty and damn good jumpers.

I call this clip "The Jump-Off" as it's clearly a shortened course. The fences are 3'9" and 3'6".  No big deal if you're on a world class show jumper.  More of a big deal if you are a 5'2" girl, albeit one with springs for legs.  "Don't video!" she said to me. "I'm not at my maximum height."  (In case you are wondering, so far that's been just over 4'."

What do you do when you're bored with jumping the high stuff?  You start asking yourself some technical questions, of course.  Can you lengthen and shorten?  Are you quick enough with your legs?

Clearly it's time to set up some gymnastics.  Jim Wofford would be proud.

"The Bounce"

"Bounce to a One Stride"

"Going the Other Way"

Seriously, the kid never stops, bless her heart.  If she were a dog, she'd totally be a Jack Russell. No joke. She asked if I wanted to try a course or two.  Uh-uh. Nope. Taking a pass on that one.  The kid got me to do a cartwheel the other day and I damn near killed myself. 

No thanks, kiddo. I choose life.  You jump, I'll video.  

F*&%k Winter. No, Seriously, F*&%k Winter. C'mon Spring!

No riding.  It's too cold and I already have my pajamas on.

Ok, so yeah, I know winter's almost over and Spring is coming and we had Daylight Savings Time and the days are longer and blah blah blah.  (Spring ahead, my ass. All I know is I lost an hour of sleep that day.)  Almost over doesn't quite cut it for me, because saying something is "almost over" means it is still here.

Why am I in such a strop?  Because winter is not quite gone, it's still cold, and for the umpteenth time I damn near killed myself trying to get out of my Under Armour. You know what I mean, the base layer you wear in the vain hope that you won't freeze your ass off. . You come home from a ride and you're all sweaty and you have to be a flipping contortionist to get out of  your sweaty Under Armour.  It's bad enough trying to get into it in the first place, but getting out of sweaty Under Armour requires the skills of a Chinese acrobat. Seriously, when I try to take my winter weight turtle neck off the neck hole is so tight I feel like I'm trying to hang myself.  Inevitably during the struggle to get my top off I trip on something and go down like a box of rocks. So then I am writhing on the floor, still trying to extricate myself  and swearing like a sailor. Cue the inevitable trip to the chiropractor, where I feel like I need to make something up because saying I threw my back out while trying to get out of my workout gear just sounds wrong.

My winter riding apparel usually consists of a base layer (Under Armour or something similar) and then a long sleeve technical shirt and a 1/4 zip pullover, which is usually made of fleece or technical fabric. Which brings me to another issue.  Why does every piece of technical/workout clothing make a mildly-fluffy middle aged women look like the Michelin tire dude?? Seriously?  We're trying to deal with work, the kids' schedules and the onset of hot flashes and hormone changes and you want to piss us off by making us feel fat?  You know one day we're gonna crack and force those skinny stick figures who design this stuff to eat dozens of donuts. An hour.  For a month.  And then we'll make them wedge

 

Not a good look.
 

Another issue riders who spend their winters in the frozen tundra face is shrinkage. As in, when you put on a base layer under breeches and a top, it feels like everything is a little bit smaller.  If you are already shoehorning yourself into a pair of breeches that are a size smaller than you really need (because dammit, you're not going to go out and buy the bigger size, you'll duct tape your mouth shut before you'll go there) this can be difficult.  As in, Chinese acrobat difficult.

 

For example, ever try to go to the bathroom with 2 layers on?  You can't wait until the situation is dire, because you know it's gonna take five minutes to wiggle out of your layers.  Then when you're done, you have to wiggle struggle back into them. This is why I hate wearing side-zip breeches in the winter. Everything's tight, so I have to suck my stomach in. Then I have to turn to the left side while trying to use my arm to push my boob out of the way so I can see the hooks and zipper.  Then comes the suck-in-shimmy-curse-pull-say-heartfelt-prayer-last-yank-before-you-pass-out maneuver and for a moment I'm giddy with success.  That lasts for a split second until I realize that I've given myself the mother of all wedgies and my underwear is halfway up my digestive track.  Sigh.

 

Then there's the whole temperature management thing that happens when getting the horse ready.  You curry, you brush, you comb, and suddenly things are getting a bit warm, so you take off your jacket.  You're fine for a few minutes until you actually get on the horse.  While warming up at the walk you start to feel the chill again, so you put your jacket back on.  That doesn't last long, because after five minutes of trotting you're breaking a sweat.  Off comes the jacket. Although it's never that easy. Nope, because you try to pull the jacket sleeve off over the glove, where it gets stuck. So then you're holding the reins with one hand while trying to pull the glove off with your teeth.  You get the first arm off and proceed to the second one.  This involves additional contortions where you then find yourself blinded because you've gotten your jacket caught over your head and the other sleeve is stuck on your glove and you're pulling and swearing and praying to God that your horse doesn't decide to spook at the cooler that's laying over the edge of the arena wall.  And now you've given yourself another wedgie.

 

So you've groomed and ridden and groomed again and where does that leave you?  If you're me, on the floor of my bedroom, kicking and pulling and yanking and cursing as I try to remove my sweaty Under Amour/sausage casing.  So yeah, I'm looking forward to Spring, mostly because my breeches will fit better without the extra layer underneath and I can indulge in the fantasy that I've lost weight.

 

 

Remembering "The Other Sugar"

The "other Sugar." Such a pretty girl.

Sometimes things come out of the blue and completely throw you for a loop.  I felt that way tonight when I opened Facebook and read a friend's post.  She'd written that her mare had sustained a serious injury and had been euthanized.  I'd be devastated to learn that any friend had lost their beloved horse, but this one?  This one hit very close to home.

My friend is someone I'd met through A Work In Progress, a fellow blogger who was originally from New Jersey and, in one of those bizarre coincidences life will throw at you, also had a mare named Sugar.  Through our blogs and Facebook friendship we kept up with each other's equestrian ups and downs, and shared news of our exploits with our Sugars.  We even met up when I was on a business trip to her area, and I got to meet her Sugar, a gorgeously voluptuous woman of color. (That was another thing we had in common, lusciously curvaceous mares!)  When I spoke of my friend and her mare to my family, I spoke of them as "the other Sugar and her Mom."

When my Sugar left this earth, my friend was one of the first to reach out to me, and she supported me from afar with words of support, both on the blog and on Facebook.  A few years ago I'd had a saddle pad trimmed with a pink and green polka dot ribbon and embroidered with Sugar's name.  After I lost the Sainted Mare, I wrapped that up for my friend and sent it up to her, thinking it would look wonderful on her "pinto pony" and that maybe it would be a way to keep the "Sugar connection" going.

A friend of hers left a post on my friend's Facebook page, and I think it does a better job of saying what I mean to say better than any words I can think up on my own.  My heart goes out to you, my friend.  I'd like to think that both our Sugars are up there together, comparing notes and swapping stories about their crazy mothers.

If you bury her in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, she will come to you when you call – come to you over the far dim pastures of death, and down the remembered paths to your side again. And though you ride other living horses through life, they shall not shy at her or resent her coming, for she is yours and she belongs there.

 People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by her footfall, who hear no nicker pitched too fine for insensitive ears. people who may never really love a horse, smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth knowing.

The one place to bury a horse is in the heart of her mistress.


Author Unknown

Godspeed, Sugar.  You will be missed.

Putting the Cart Before The Horse. Literally.

My new wheels

So I just looked at the date and it's been an age and a day since my last post. Yikes.  Guess there's a
lot to catch up on.  So let me get started...

I still don't own a horse.  Just haven't found the right one. That being said, I've been super fortunate to be able to ride a horse named Presidential, who I call Mooch.  Mooch was coming off an injury and needed to have an easier job than his previous gig as a Big Eq horse, and I get to ride him until for a while until he goes back to that job.  Sadly, I don't have the bank account to keep him, but I'm enjoying the heck out of him while I have him.  He's a big ol' love bug, and wants to be best friends with everyone he sees.  I baby talk the heck out of him, which is something I never did with Sug, but it works with him and he seems to like it.  I think he really wants to be a Momma's boy, and he has an endearing tendency to take the the cuff of my sleeve into his mouth and suck on it.

The kids are still riding Tiki, the lovely grey boy we lease from my trainer.  He's wonderful, so full of personality and smart enough to do calculus.  He's quirky: He'll jump anything you put in front of him if you put him to the middle of it, but he's petrified of cavaletti.  I love that he has all the buttons, but that he's not push button, so the kids do really need to ride him.  Here's some video from the kids' first show on him.  I think you'll be able to see why he's such a treasure.

Noah and Tiki

Sophie and Tiki

So, the big news...I bought a trailer.  Yep.  You read that right.  I bought a trailer.  Didn't have a horse of my own or a truck to pull the trailer with, but I bought a trailer. When I told my good friend Tara, she laughed and said, "You literally put the cart before the horse!" I hadn't looked at it that way until she said it, but yep, that's what I'd done.

I now had a trailer, and needed something to pull it with.  Off I went to find something big enough to pull a trailer, yet functional enough to work as my business vehicle and my mom-mobile as I ferry the kids to and fro.  Managed to find a used SUV that fit the bill, and now all I need to do is take it to a trailer dealer to kit it up few things and I should be in business.  Well, at least in business enough to learn how to drive the thing.  Which should prove to be interesting.

I have to admit I'm a bit nervous about the whole thing, but determined as well.  This was something I always wanted to do when I had Sug, as I wanted to have the ability take off and do clinics and trail paces or just go wherever we wanted to whenever we wanted to.  I have wonderful friends who were happy to trailer me when they could, but you know, sometimes schedules don't align and it wasn't fair to them to bum a ride all the time. I suppose I could have gone with using a shipper, butI really just wanted to be 100% independent. Hence the trailer. I regret that I didn't do it when I had Sug, so I am doing it now.

Which basically means that if you're on the roads in NJ, well, you might just want to be extra careful around any horse trailers you run across. Just saying.

Horse People Aren't Like Other People...

This was originally posted on Horse Junkies United, but I figured I'd post it here as well.

 

Rearing Horse and Rider

When horse people talk with each other, we often find ourselves laughing at how we view the world versus how non-equestrians see it. For instance, other people see the spacers in sidewalks, we see them as cavaletti. Non-equestrians note the mile markers on highways, we count the number of "strides" between them.  Other people simply get on the moving sidewalks at airports.  When my son misjudged how to get on one, he turned to me and said he "chipped in." Most people politely wait for others to move out of their way.  Equestrians poke the person in the side, cluck, and say "Over!" (I'm not joking. One day while traveling for business I absent-mindedly did that to someone in the TSA line at La Guardia. The poor man I poked was so shocked he just grabbed his stuff and hurried off.)

 

I was reminded of this when my son was on a school trip in New York touring the Body Worlds exhibition in Discovery Times Square.  The exhibit is composed of preserved human and animal bodies and body parts that are preserved using a technique called plastination, which shows the inner structures, muscles and tendons and ligaments, as they would appear without the covering of skin. Pretty cool, seeing how everything under the skin works while performing a task, right? While other kids were noticing the various muscle groups in action, my son saw something completely different. He sent me the picture to the right in a text with the comment, "His heels aren't down."

 

Later in the day he sent a text from the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center: "Watching the skaters at Rockefeller Center.  They look like they're doing spiral-ins and leg yields. Excellent crossover of the hind legs."  That little observation caused me to spit my coffee all over my laptop keyboard.

 

A few days later we found ourselves at our favorite Christmas tree farm for our annual evergreen sacrifice to the gods of Yule (Or Amazon, depending on your viewpoint.)  Now, anyone else might look at discarded evergreen branches as garbage.  Others might look at them as greenery for wreaths or garland.  An equestrian, however, sees nothing quite so mundane.  Nope, an equestrian sees that pile of evergreen branches as a brush jump, specifically fence #1 in the Cherryville Farms 2014 Hunter Derby.

 

 

 



 And of course, there are the hay bales, which to most people might appear to be outlining the parking area for Christmas tree patrons, but to an equestrian is clearly fence #2.

 

 

Yep.  We're equestrians.  When your viewfinder in life is between two furry ears, you just see things differently.

Giving Back Update...

Just wanted to give a little status report on this so you all don't think I'm slacking over here.  So far I've donated every day this month.  Well, if I'm being honest, while I was traveling for business it got difficult so on several days I've had to donate a couple of times to make up.

This isn't a complete list (just what I can remember off the top of my head), but so far I've given to:

Mane Stream Therapeutic Riding
New Vocations
Second Call
CANTER MidAtlantic
Water.org
Land Conservancy of NJ
St. Jude's
Make A Wish
Midwest Horse Welfare
Victory Reins
Nowzad Dogs
A Cup of Joe for a Joe
Wounded Warriors
A Horse Tale
Mylestone Equine Rescue

So there you have it.  Just wanted to let y'all know I'm keeping my promise. :)