I Wanna Be Sedated, part 2

So, now that the horse is drunk and sharp points have been removed from his teeth, he is in not much of a state to argue. He's still high as a kite.

Hmmm...what else could we do while the boy is too sleepy to argue? Oh yes, THAT.

It never fails to surprise me how squeamish people get about the mere topic of sheath cleaning! I choose not to own any animal that requires rituals that gross me out. This is why I don't have, say, a snake (needs live mice), or a baby (needs a whole bunch of gross things). I do sheath cleanings myself. The pony doesn't drop for me, and I'm not about to play tug of war with the thing, so I go in blind. I go in with gloves, KY jelly, and a dream. Knowing where the parts are, I fish around with my (gloved!) finger to pick out the putty-colored bean. Mind you, I'm going in blind, so I get what I feel is the whole bean, then clean up.

At a previous dental appointment a few years ago, the vet tech told me I had done a good job. I beamed! Why is the stuff I'm good at always stuff that simply cannot go into the annual Christmas letter?

This most recent vet check went a little differently. Turns out my going in blind had not been sufficient, and he had a large bean. Those pockets are deep! The vet was able to feel the bean by touching the outside of the penis (didn't think of that!), and remove it by pushing from behind where the bean was. How obvious! But nobody ever talks about technique. There's just a lot of nervous giggling and cringing and hoping a repairman doesn't crash the party.

Today while "it" was dropped (don't want to use the "p" word twice and scare anyone), I felt what it should feel like from the outside when it's clean. Perfectly spongy. I'm happy to know that I have kind of a baseline or "default mode" for a clean gelding. Life is good.

This information will not be divulged in a Christmas letter OR a Facebook status. Can you imagine vague-booking about that? "Half a tube of KY later and a bit of patience, my goal was completed before the drugs wore off."

Fun with Sedatives

Ponykins had a lot done yesterday - shots and teeth. This divested me of $211, and left my normally alert steed with a thousand yard stare and wobbly feet. I'm all "hey, buddy", and he's staring at his pile of hay like "I can see GOD". I helped keep him propped up while he fixated on the leprechauns or whatever he was seeing. I kid, I kid. He was just stoned as hell, not hallucinating. Though the antics of the new barn kittens may have added some element of trippiness.

It was a successful vet visit in that I received confirmation that he looked good, and I got to geek out at all the fun veterinary terms. Pitting edema! Occlusion! Dewormer chemistry! Swoon.

He'll get several days off as he recovers from the big day. I'll take that time to properly store his winter blankets, clean tack, and wash saddle pads. Ah hell, who am I kidding? I'll play with the kittens and ride one of the girls. I DO need to fix my half chap and order supplements. Aren't horse folk the only ones we know who spend an afternoon filling up baggies with white powder? Smartpak wasn't started to make our lives easier; it was an attempt to make us look less like small-time drug dealers! Baggies and white powder and syringes oh my! Um, I think we've established that my horse is the druggie, NOT me. I can't afford to get both of us high.

Most flattering helmet for when my house gets flattened?

It's supposed to be crazy hot this weekend! This is going to make a lot of people unhappy. I'm a fan of the heat, so I'm getting excited like most people do over a first snowfall of the season. "What is WITH this weather?" people say. A lot of people who hate the heat love its by-product: wicked storms.

As if I need a reason to indulge pack rat tendencies, I came across a PSA by the local weatherman: keep helmets on hand for severe storms. Most tornado deaths happen as a result of blunt force trauma to the head. My old riding helmets just became less Tally Ho and more Twister.

"It might look a little silly," he cautions. More silly than me crouching under the stairs with a death grip on the cat, grimacing in terror and trying to remember the words to The Lord's Prayer?

Being Judged

Oh, the part-time jobs we're willing to pick up in order to fuel the horse addiction! I'm not speaking of the barn rat type gigs. Another topic entirely.

I'm talking about the times when I become slightly touched in the head and think, how about doing something that doesn't involve shavings in the hair and boots that aren't allowed in the house? How about dangly bracelets and styled hair and nail polish?

I know, I'll become a leader with the popular weight loss company with which I was so successful. I'll be inspirational, I'll change lives, I'll make some mad cash!

I aced their interview, and filled out the mountain of hiring paperwork. This included a form solemnly swearing I wouldn't eat my feelings and no longer appear to be "the face of our organization." No problem. I've got breeches I need to fit into. I'm your gal. Solidarity and all that. Unless I have to move my horse and he goes on a hunger strike, or he colics, or dumps me out on trail. Then I'm embedding myself into a tub of ice cream like a tick on a dog. Legs waving in the air, and all.

I go through their extensive training and before I know it, I'm up doing my first presentation for actual members. What works in front of the judge? Good turnout, remember to breathe, don't grimace when you concentrate, needs more energy, add leg, look up, breathe, half-halt....I'm up there getting the job done, feeling composed, breathing, speaking, smiling. It's then that the person training me gets up, cuts me off, and finishes the spiel for me. It was as if the judge had leapt out of the judge's box in a fit up disgust, divested me of my horse, and finished the test. I was aghasted (hi, COTH'ers!).

My audience left and trainer lady glares at me and has one word: "Sit!" Which I do quickly in a submissive state that annoys me. I chalk it up to the fact that I've spent so many hours and dollars LEARNING how to sit. Then I realize that I just followed this command for someone who can teach me nothing about riding. Her feedback: I hadn't given the presentation right, I left out sacred phrases and added in unnecessary information when, I don't know, I was answering someone's question. She's going on about my screw-ups and I'm doing the math in my head....how many hours do I have to spend with this harpy to pay for a month's board? The exchange rate is not looking good.

I'm wanting to get some dirt back under my fingernails. I use my best "this isn't a good fit" verbiage to extricate myself from the situation. So many times though, in and out of the horse world, I want to tell someone: "They make pills for how bitchy you are. Ask your doctor if being heavily medicated is right for you."

Run Away!

My horse's home is for sale. A beautiful old horse property, put on the market and priced to sit long enough for me to forget the Sale sign is up. No, I can't afford it. I don't even know that I'd want to. Boarding gives me such freedom, and I don't know that I want to be tied down to this place. Don't think my ears have been closed when barn owners talk about their to-do list and how tired they are. Not for a moment. And managing a boarding facility? Sounds like herding cats. Not the LOL cats, but semi-feral hormonal cats.

So conversation casually turns to what would happen to the place after it sells. Barns torn down and a new shed put up? Gross! Everything torn down and a subdivision built? "That would be really ghetto," I said. The words came so fast I forgot I live in a subdivision. I covered my tracks easily: "The last thing this place needs is another goddamn field of beige houses"

I'm a pretty hands-on owner, in that I don't like to let more than a day go by without seeing my horse in person. He can be in the best possible care, but if I don't see it with my own eyes, it's all imaginary. Thanks, ancestors before me that passed on the worrywart gene. I've seen the family records and photos, by the way, and their toes looked a tad long.

Came across a quote the other day: "You can't run away from trouble. There ain't no place that far." - Uncle Remus.

Oh YEAH? Well. Some of us got into horses because we wanted to at least try to outrun trouble. Sometimes you go as far as possible from where the trouble started. Sometimes you need to physically, geographically, leave the scene of the crime.

My greatest fear isn't that I'll die riding a horse, it's that I won't be allowed to. And I'll be the old woman leaning over the back of a ship dropping jewelry into the sea.

Shit People Say to Horse Owners

Happy Friday! To pass the time, cruise on over to YouTube and look at "Shit People Say to...." videos.

Here's my "shit people say to horse owners/riders", with a few handy replies!

"I rode a horse once, but it bucked me" ...It did what, exactly? Bucked while you were on it? Bucked and unloaded you? Can you be more specific? You know what, actually, don't - because the phrase "bucked me" gives me the creeps.

"I rode once, but my horse was really stupid" Oh, so you mean it ignored your clumsy cues and elected to eat grass instead. Sounds smart to me.

"Horses are really expensive...*uncomfortable pause*" I know, if I didn't unload all my disposable income on horses I'd have so much more money for recreational drugs. Care to hook me up?

"I would never have time for all that, what with my children's activities. I'd feel too selfish. Don't you want kids someday?" .....I'm barren, but thanks for the reminder. Just kidding! The judge recommended I not have children.

"I'll have to stop out and ride sometime" Yes, you will! I always prep for my ride by de-cobwebbing the barn and medicating the barn cats. Later we can check the live traps and see if that skunk has still been hanging around.

"Nice pants" (from some rando at the gas station) Thanks! They're deerskin fullseats, my favorite. They're a little spendy but so worth it. Guess my husband will have to give up beer and cable tv for the next few months!

"With all the money you spend on horses, you could buy a luxury vehicle/Eat Pray Love vacation/kitchen remodel!" No Lexus deserves the dust/animal hair/dirty blanket collection that I tend to create. Eat Pray Love translates to Groom Ride Cuddle. And nice kitchens are for people who underestimate the value of a kick-ass mud room.

Got any of your own? Feel free to post them! You don't have to sign up to comment - none of that password crap :)

Hoarders

I'm still trying to decide whether or not War Horse left an impression on me. I'd better decide, because I'm sure to receive it on DVD within the next year. I did like it more than Secretariat. Too much Diane Lane, who I tend to think of as Susan Sarandon's LifeTime Movie twin sister.

My very favorite is National Velvet, which I saw after reading the book. I read the actual BOOK (haven't touched paper since I got my Kindle) and did a damn book report. Poor sixth-grade teacher. We were each to read our favorite passage from our book, and mine was paragraphs of tack gifted to Velvet. (I'm going to paraphrase here) "bridles, martingales, head collars, saddles, reins, surcingles...." He had to stop me. I was lost in a fictional account of what I would later know as components of a tack swap. Wheeee! A garage sale comprised of all horse stuff!

It's a maddening rush of great things that go great together....shopping and acquiring horse stuff. Right after I acquired my horse, I felt more and more the horse owner with each new item I got. I keep raising the stakes on myself.

I own all the (horse) things! (Real horse owner) Some of them are in my car! ( Real horse owner) My trunk is full of rice bran! (Real horse owner) Nobody but the dog would ever want to ride in my car! (Real horse owner) There are saddle pads drying on the Bowflex (Real horse owner).

Okay, seriously, the arms race toward enmeshing my life with all things equine needs to calm down. But part of me will always be a middle school kid dreaming about the horse lifestyle, so I can't help but drape myself in it. Where do I draw the line?

At the actual acquisition of horses, of course. One's my limit. But one is my bare minimum. I won't be horseless again, and my surroundings may be less pristine for it, but they're a lot more blessed.