Let us ride together, Blowing mane and hair, Careless of the weather, Miles ahead of care, Ring of hoof and snaffle, Swing of waist and hip, Trotting down the twisted road With the world let slip. Anonymous riding song.
Along for the ride:
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Still in a bit of a self-pitying funk, even after riding yesterday. I'm reserving judgement until I ride again with a small group tomorrow but I do think this will work out. I could not elevate my mood to a point where the usual euphoria of an equitation-buzz kicked in but that's more my own fault than the new barn.
The half hour before my ride I sat and watched a prior lesson. It was nice to see two young girls who were using their legs, a sight too seldom encountered here. The horses were both in bitless bridles, a great idea to preserve the horses mouths from all and sundry yanking them around. All the signs were of a place that educates its riders and cares for its horses.
My horse was prepared for me, a very nice looking chap. His story included a major neck injury, over jumps with his previous owner, which left him with scar tissue that prevents him from lifting his head to the usual position. A little non-plussed at riding a horse with his head basically at knee level and depressed by his disability, I tried to be thankful that he had found this niche in life, as opposed to being processed for dog food. There must have been some good schooling in his life, because the actual ride was balanced and forward moving, not on the forehand, as might have been expected.
My new trainer is ridiculously young and perky. I suppose there was a time when that was said about me. (That darn train left the station an long while ago!). She started by shortening my stirrups a couple of holes. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt on that. She hadn't yet seen me ride. I do ride long. I look as though I have short legs but I sit deep and make good use of them, and my seat. Keeping an open mind on this is imperative, although my dreams last night included crossing my stirrups over my saddle and riding without any. Subconscious rebellion already. I am obviously a bad person.
I did a couple of other things for myself yesterday. I went to have my chin and lip waxed. Thank goodness my hair is light colored as I always put off the grooming necessities of a civilized life until my mustache is beginning to draw unwanted attention. Ringling Brothers Circus is in town and I had reached the stage where I could have applied for a job as a bearded lady. Strangely enough I usually enjoy having almost-too-hot-to-bear wax smeared on my lip and chin and the rip and burn as it is torn off, taking my hair out by the roots. My fair complexion responds instantly with flaming redness so I have to make sure that I get waxed at a time when I can go home afterwards and hide.
I made an exception after yesterday's "beauty treatment" as I had seen a watch repair store in the same zone. My watch had died weeks ago and needed a new battery and strap. It has been in the cup-holder compartment of my car, making my bottled water rock dangerously at every turn. I don't like do-it-yourself shopping so I avoid buying such things in shops where they expect me to do the replacing. I was the only customer in Fred's Watch Repair shop. The owner came out of the back when the bell rang. I doubt his name was Fred, after chatting while we looked for the perfect strap, I found out he is of Persian origin and no longer stays open seven days a week as his wife was unhappy about it.
"Fred" had some difficulty at first, My previous strap was black and tapered. The watch is by Fossil, it was given to me after I volunteered at a Charity Golf Tournament in support of a childrens' organization. Coincidentally, I had a black Fossil shoulder bag that has seen me through a couple of winter seasons, although I don't use it for travel. There is no zip-closure and everything falls out if it tips over under the airplane seat in front of me. Been there, done that, lesson learned.
The available black straps had some fake croc texture which I didn't like. We started branching out to the possibilities of khaki, tan or dark brown. I noticed that the face of my timepiece is a dark grey-blue and "Fred", my new hero, produced a Kingfisher blue strap. Inordinately pleased, I snapped it up and have been admiring it ever since.
If I were a tree, I would be a London Plane. I am gregarious but enjoy solitude. I am English in my heart and soul, but still have room for other nations. I have lived in six countries and picked up a French husband along the way. We have a wonderful, kind, strong-minded daughter who has become a "Human of whom to be proud". I am a magnet for the lost. I foster collies (and collie cousins and the occasional, accidental, cat or crow). Those I have saved have saved me in return. I notice the world around me and often talk to strangers. Traveling alone is interesting, liberating and fulfilling. I am good at most things that I undertake but have few formal qualifications. I am able to have and treasure friends with whom I disagree about almost everything. My life is not over. Who knows where I am headed?
A ponyism is one of Life's Truths perceived from the perspective of an Effing Pony: - Life's a Bluff! - Those who aspire to make their mark on this world must expect to scrape some skin on the walls of experience. - The greatest value of money is as the currency of Hope.
- To be an Ass or an Asset, that is the question?
-Selective memory is but the first step on the path to magical thinking.
-Not all Baggage comes with wheels. -When your hero is a horse you are less likely to be disappointed than were he a human.
-Unfortunately, great wealth does not always equate with class.
-A dick, surrounded by puppies, remains a dick. -What better antidote to evil than kittens? -Any time you have something heavy, ready to drop, your cat will sit right below and look up at you.