The G-Spot

Time to introduce you to yet another of the "kids". For those of you with less than perfectly innocent minds- her actual name is "Georgia".. or "G". Registered name, "Accomplishment".. and well....... one thing sort of led to another- and if you find it.. well, that's an accomplishment of a sort now isn't it?

So. Anyway. "Georgia" is a 3YO filly, by Achieva and out a mare named Wana Sue. Yes, that makes her Timmie's half sister. And, yes, they have a lot in common. She is actually much .. well, if NOT smarter, at least she has a sense of self preservation. Still, she's the blondest grey horse I know. That said, I don't mind much. I know, at least, that I can have a bad day and STILL out-think her. She is also the absolute sweetest, quietest, nicest mare I've ever been around- even when she's in heat. Which, of course, puts her one up on most females of any species.

"Georgia" showed for the first time at the NYS Fair, where she did one class- but mostly went to be a tourist. Much like her older brother she was fascinated with much of what goes on with that show- the parades, fireworks, the other breeds of horses- the two of them are like taking twin grey children to the carnival. From there she then went to her first "serious" horse show- the ESQHA Fall Show in Syracuse, NY. Her owner, Jackie Allen, of Central Square, NY showed her for the first time in Nov. Amateur HUS. They were called back second in their cut for the finals. In the finals a blown lead dropped them out of top placings down to 8th. Still for a green 3YO and an owner who is only making their first foray into the HUS world- that's still pretty darn good. There were over 20 in the class. As you can see the pictures are gorgeous. She also does showmanship too- like a machine.

When this filly is on her game, riding her makes you feel like you're on top of the world. Shh... don't tell anyone, but it's almost better than sex. And you wondered where she got her name....

You Can't Fix Stupid

According to Alicia, one of her husband's favorite sayings is, "You can't fix stupid". Can you be any more succinct than that?

I consider myself to be of average intelligence, but often enough I come across someone that leaves me thinking about making an application for MENSA. The other truism, is that the more sub-standard IQ one has, the more their mouth runs. They say that the mouth opens and the brain closes- how true. You can not help but feel pity for such people. Can they not know how stupid they are? Or do they know, deep-down?

I have in mind, specifically for this, someone whom I was unable to respect much even as a young girl. I, of course, had the traditional respect one holds for someone older than oneself, and for those in positions of authority. Still, now that I'm older (and hopefully wiser.. wait.. I knew it ALL at 14 didn't I??) I now hold this person at roughly the same level of respect that I hold pond scum. Sure, they have their virtues- but so does pond scum.

This person has been trying valiantly (in rather brazen, but underhanded ways) to undermine my credibility; bad-mouth me, my program, and my horses (*THAT* part pisses me off... say what you want about me, but do NOT talk about my children) and make life difficult for my customers.

Have you done anything about it, you ask? Not yet. I admit, the temptation to confront this person has been strong at times, but I plainly refuse to get in a battle of wits with someone who is so clearly unarmed.

You see- the thing with blitherin' idiots is that they will, eventually, trip over their own tongues. (Or for a more satisfying visual- give them rope and eventually they hang themselves with it) They really don't need help in looking stupid. They do just fine on their own.

Timmie Gets A Monkey.. or.. Sometimes You Get More Than You Pay For

It's time, I feel, to introduce you to the entire cast of characters that comprise our endlessly entertaining environs. For your sake this will be done one at a time.

Here we have Achieve N Dreams, a 2002 gelding, by Achieva and out of Reserve Youth World Champion mare Elegance And Roses. Aboard is his owner/operator, Julia Blunt, and on the ground (but by no means in a safer position) is me- appearing as myself.

When Julia called us to look at a horse she was trying out- we told her; "Sure, as soon as we get a free minute. Next day or so." She said, "Um.. could you make that tonight? He's lame."

Uh-Oh.

Our initial reaction? Oh dear, what are getting yourself into now? For further background information, Julia had literally just foaled her third kid, and was now (with 3 college educations looming far in the background) was looking at potentially buying a lame horse. I believe her words to me when she started horse shopping were something like this- "I just want something to have fun on, do Open shows, and maybe the occasional Quarter Horse show." Remember those words, they take on new meaning later.

So we went to look at the poor lame boy, and lame didn't quite cover it. He wasn't exactly three-legged, head-bobbing lame. He couldn't be. He really only had one good leg to stand on. So, our verdict went something like this- Lame on 3 legs. Probably shoeing related. Shoes are way too small. Angles are horrifying. He's barely tall enough. (a bare 16H) and he needs groceries- LOTS of groceries. Still, there was something that said, if bought right, this could be a hell of a prospect. Now- if you were a mother of 3 (the youngest being newborn) and you've never won the lottery- what would you do? Run the other way just as fast as you could of course. Who on earth buys a lame horse?????? Considering her budget, and the fact I'm pretty sure she fell head over heels immediately, I'm not sure Julie ever really had a choice. It was, at the time, the best she could afford- being 2 steps removed from dog food instead of merely one.

Having the resources to rehabilitate Timmie that Julie lacked, I would not allow my best friend to embark upon a gamble like this without giving her all and any support that I could. Over the course of a couple of months we got the big boy (oh yeah... he grew when he got fed... and he grew.. and he grew...) sound enough and strong enough to ride. Those first rides were a lot of entertainment. Turns out he knew a thing or two, but definitely not three. He was pretty green. And he had his quirks. (Still does, and if I were to list them for you I would fill up all my designated space) One minute he was a blithering idiot- bucking, leaping, twisting. The next, he was stuck in park. Good luck getting him to move- and then it was with a "ho-hum.. guess I can plod around" attitude.

As Timmie developed into a horse, he developed a striking personality... or should I say biting... or more aptly... pinching. He's famous for sneaking in a pinch. Favored targets are breasts (he's got an unerring sense for nipples- male or female) or that sensitive area of the tricep. I swear, he does this just to make people squeal, flail, and jump up and down. In his mother I think he found the perfect squeaky toy. He never, ever, misses an opportunity to drag, pinch, squish, or stomp her. All in the most loving of ways, of course. In spite of the torture he puts her through for his own entertainment, he takes good care of her (as you would a loveable, entertaining pet.. such as a monkey or a 'Tickle Me Elmo'). This is best exemplified in his very first trail ride.

It was hotter than blazes, and the barn had no power. This was due to a semi ripping down the power lines when it pulled into the business next door. So.. for entertainment, and to see when we might get power back, Julie and I decided to ride down and ask the crew working, how much longer it was going to be. Timmie tromped past the trucks, the cones, the lights, past the cherry picker.. you name it- and never batted an ear. On the return trip to the barn he still plodded on steadily until Julie, who was not yet used to split reins, dropped them. He stepped on the end of his rein and stopped. This allowed Julie to hang virtually upside down out of the saddle to retrieve the wayward reins. Not bad for a horse that'd only been riding less than a month and was outdoors, unfenced-in, for the first time. On another trail ride he was a bit more... um.. lively. He tried (and failed) to walk through trees. One can only assume that he was operating on the premise that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Following that logic then- regardless of how the trail curves- it is quicker and easier to go straight. No matter how boldly he marched however, the trees failed to yield way. No amount of persuasion from his rider could dissuade him from this course. Julie returned to the farm with most of the forest in her hair, shirt, and even underwear.

This was Timmie at the beginning. After 60 days of riding he went to his first horse show and won the Jr. HUS, the Nov. Am HUS and the Amateur HUS. He continues to be a professional in the show pen, but is too much of a diva to attend Open shows. In the Timmie Saga, however, that is a story for another time.

The ME factor

As a horse trainer you have some customers that seem hell bent on driving you insane. On the other hand, bless the lord, you try to balance them with the customers that are the bright shining lights of your day. For those you would walk through burning lava, turn yourself into a pretzel.. whatever it takes- for they are the fresh air that keeps you from turning into a raving lunatic. The rest of your customers tend to fall in into various places in between, and mostly all even fluctuate to and fro.

The hardest thing to deal with, when you're fried from the road, trying to get everything primed for the big fall shows, you're running on nothing more than caffeine, a few hours of semi-shut-eye and a whole lot of Advil, is what we'll term the "ME" factor.

The people with the "Me, Me's" are everywhere. You've probably met more than one. They don't want to hear about your horse, or anyone elses. They want to talk only about theirs. They don't want to know what they can do for you, but what you can do for them. You can never spend enough time with THIER horse. (What? You mean you have others????) Because of the fact that in their world, only they, their goals, and their horse exist, you must certainly have time to do more for them. Why should they take the time out of their busy vacation/ social life/ free time to attempt to do for themselves when it's much simpler to ask someone else to do for them? Oh, I know you're REEEEAAAALLLLYYY busy, but could you........?

The reasons why they can't do it themselves vary, of course. They're going to the movies, have a hot date, washing their hair, or they haven't even tried, and truthfully don't feel like it. They feel somehow entitled to more than their fair share. And that's the moral of the story: Share.
You know something- when you do, you really do get more.

Walk a Mile in my Horseshoes

I had a Stepometer once. You know- those nifty gadgets McDonalds gave out when they went on a health kick. You got them with your salad. Better than a side of croutons.

I wore mine out in the first day.

According to the number of steps I take in one day (and only about half of those registered) I should be an ultra-fit, super lean, heath machine. Don't laugh. Of course, those in the know are aware that I do my very best to counteract my active lifestyle. The old Russian proverb goes something like this; "You don't drink, you don't smoke, you only die healthy". Alas, I digress.

I love my job. Do not get me wrong. However, 12-14 hour days, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, for year after year, do take their toll. (Do not forget I wore out a stepometer in ONE day) In this line of work, there really isn't such a thing as a day off- least of all when you really truely care about your horses, and pride yourself on your hands-on approach to ALL aspects of care for the horses entrusted to you.

Now I do not envy the non-horse people. I do however find it hard to relate to them sometimes. Especially when they start to make demands of my time. The 9 to 5er's find it hard to understand why I can't just go out. Why I can't just change my schedule on a whim. I work for myself right? Sort of. My schedule's flexibility is set around the progress my various horses are making toward the goals I've laid out for them. Each horse has a differant program, and progresses at a differant pace, toward differant goals. Generally, these are long term goals, but still set within an indentifiable time limit. Each day is precious and important. To get them all where I want to get them, when I want to get them there, and do it so that they're both healthy and happy- I have to work my A$$ off day in and day out. The few hours I have to myself everyday are SACRED to me. In order for ME to be healthy and happy I need to rest too. .....(I'm hitting an age where bionic body parts are looking attractive)...

I want to know why I need to be the one working everyday for 12+ hours, but I can't be too busy to go out and be social, when the ones with weekends, holidays, and paid vacations can't come see me, because they say I'm too busy....?