Things Are Looking Up!!

Finally, a break in stride!!

 Seems it’s about time to saddle up the work-force pony, and taker her for a ride. I’ve just gotten a call back from a Spa I applied at a few weeks ago… I’m going in tomorrow to do Massage and see if the place and I mesh well enough. So Excited! With the economy like it is, I’m surprised it was a spa that called me back…but I’ll take it! I love my work as an LMT, and hopefully this place will work out. 

Any who, I’ve given my cousin the bug… the blogging bug, that is. Check out her page here. Like me, she’s a lover of equines.. But in a vastly different arena. While mine is varied in the fields of endurance, mounted police, dressage, hunters/jumpers, speed events, etc, her venue is more of the showing arena; specifically Arabian shows and Saddle Seat stuff. 

Aside:

Major funny of today: Was talking to my cousin (ironically enough the same one that started blogging), and we were discussing the finer points of alcohol. She’s actually not a drinker. I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘drinker’, but I do know how to enjoy a fine glass of something when the occasion calls for it. I mentioning that I couldn’t stand the thought of Vodka…that being my ‘sick’ drink. (any of you who have ever had a 3 day hangover, you know what I mean). Even the mention of the stuff sets my stomach rolling. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m like that with hushpuppies.”

…

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. 

Seriously. 

“Is that some hokey Texan drink I haven’t heard of?” (I was hoping…)

“No. I mean like real hushpuppies. The deep-fried, brown, eat-with-fish-and-chips kind. Can’t stand the dang things. Just the thought of them turns my stomach!”

I didn’t know if I should laugh hysterically or worry. But it gets better.

Our conversation moved on to slugging energy drinks. Her fav is the much acclaimed 5-hour Energy. 

“It’s horrid - you have to take it like a shot!! Close your eyes, pinch your nose with your fingers, and sling ‘er back,” she cried.

By this time I was rolling on the floor in hysterics.

“Some day before we get old and senile, I vow I will take you to a bar and MAKE you take a shot,” I managed to snorted out, “and if you actually take it like a kid drinking yucky cough syrup I’m going to fall out of my chair laughing - but there will be picture evidence, I promise you that.” 

Yes, I was laughing hysterically by this time. 


So what started out as a day of cleaning house and job-hunting turned into an extremely good day. There are only two things that can make it better right now… One of them being a nice long ride on my mare, and the other… well. I’ll save that for later. 

Ciao. 

A Good Day

Yes, A Good Day Was Had By All

Today was revolutionary. J Lots of smiles and happiness about. I swear, one or more of my ancestress must have been bitten by a vampire… or a werewolf… or have consumed some poison tea. Something. We’re coming up to a full moon in another week and a half or so, and I have gone haywire! Everything. Ugh. It’s so bloody exhausting. But at least I know why now! Makes life so much easier. 

Moving on. 

I drove the little zippy car today. Smiles, shivers and overall contentment. I love that car. Hopefully I can talk my cousin into letting me drag race his Camaro… now, that’s some serious car right there. I’ll have to get pictures soon. 

I wanted to ride today. The weather decided to give us a chance to thaw out, and it was relatively warm outside. Didn’t get around to it. Tomorrow though, I vow. I’m going through some serious withdrawals. I haven’t been on my horse in so long, she’s probably going to laugh at me when I try to pull my fat ass up in the saddle. Forget my usual grace that came from 17 years of hard riding. 

I need to trim the other four.. Sheebah looks good. Her feet have drastically improved from one year ago. Now I just need to get the other four up to her level. Time, lots of time. They’re really not terribly bad off, but since I haven’t been able to work with them consistently since I’ve moved up here, they seem to think that you’re supposed to fight the pedicurist every second. “If you’re going to be a leg,” they say, “well then dammit, quit bitching and be a leg! Don’t expect me to hold myself up when I ONLY have three left…”. Right. That’s what I’m in the process of remedying. And can they be petite, light little Arabs? No. they’re fat lazy quarter horses. Lol. Wouldn’t trade them for the world though. 

A little food for thought for you horse lovers.

You Know You’re A Horse Lover When…

*Your horse gets shoes more often than you do.

especially during Mardi Gras season. I’d put down 200 without blinking for barium and steel, yet I can’t remember the last time I actually had a new pair of shoes. 

*You're trying to get around a slow walking person and instead of saying "Excuse me," you cluck at them instead.

I’ve actually been yelled at for this. 

*You say "Whoa" to the dog.

guilty. And to the young cousins. 

*You pull change from your pocket at work, and hay falls all over.

of course? I still find horse treats in my winter jacket pockets. 

*Books and movies are ruined for you if horsemanship references are incorrect.

I cannot stand it if they’re wrong!!!! Or if the horses are an obvious switch, like in Hidalgo. 

*You actually get to a point where flies don't bother you so much.

they still drive the mother crazy, but don’t bother me much at all. 

*Your mother, who has no grandchildren, gets cards addressed to Grandma, signed by the horses.

but of course. 

*You kick the car floor and cluck to make it go.

and pull on the steering wheel while squeezing your thighs and sinking slightly deeper into the seat to make it stop…

*Your friends have to move your saddle or horse blanket out of the seat every time they get in your car.

Guilty. 

*Your non-horsey friend gives you a funny look after glancing into the back seat of your car, and you realize he's noticed your whips and spurs.

I still catch hell about this. Although the ex didn’t mind it too bad, lol.

*Your sole purpose in buying five pounds of coffee is to use the can as a grain scoop.

so when you get home, you dump the coffee out into a plastic baggie and take the can to the barn. 

*You stop channel surfing at Budweiser Clydesdale commercials.

those Clydesdales are so cute…

*You have more pictures of your horses in your office than you have of your family.

actually, I don’t think I had any pics of anything but my horse…

*Your horse seems the right choice when you need to talk something out with someone.

they always listen and never judge. What more do you want?

*You can find your boots in the dark by the aroma.

LOL guilty…

*You get a little whiff of the smell of leather and breathe deeper to get the full impact. 

every time. Every. Time. 

*You drive by ANY field ANYWHERE and look very hard for horses.

doesn’t matter if it’s obviously a hay field or a grain field. If it’s a golf course, it just pisses you off at such a waste of good pasture land. 

*You know more about equine nutrition than human nutrition.

sad, but true. And I’m a Massage Therapist!

*You don't even want to think about how your car would be paid for, your mortgage would be much smaller, and you might have some savings if you didn't have horses.

it’s pointed out to me regularly. But I don’t care. I’ll take the horses and the debt any day. My horses are my therapy. 

*You're totally grossed out by human hair in the sink or tub, but don't mind horse hair in your washer, on your clothes, in your food.

adds a little … ‘spice’… lol. 

For this post, that’s all. I’m probably going to post something else a little later. I’ve got to help make lamp chops and zucchini/squash for dinner. (lol, here’s another picture this:… sexy blond in a red Camaro… everyone’s watching.. She saunters her way to the grocery and slips a basket over her arm. In the produce section, she analyzes the zucchini carefully… right length… right width… right texture… then moves onto the squash. “mmm,” she thinks as she licks her lips. Two small bags of rice later, she moves to the checkout line and makes eye contact with the clerk. Smiles. Pays. Then slings her ass and hips side to side all the way back to that little zippy car. Wonder what she’s doing tonight? )

Yes, I had a few laughs at the store. Honestly though, it’s for Lamb Chops. Bon Appetite! 

Ciao, Babe.

Are All Men Really Created Equal?

Yet another woman pondering the circumstances of life, love, and the pursuit thereof. 


Are all men alike? The few men I’ve been seriously close to have had a knack for keeping me hanging on. And I, stupidly, let it happen. Thus, the curse of a woman. Even the Bible claims it, “and a woman’s desire will be unto her husband.” I think that is the curse of women, not necessarily only the painful childbirth. The man we choose to give our hearts to will forever want something more, something different. You’ll never be good enough. The Bible commands women to “respect your husband” and men to “love thy wife”. Know why? Because the farther along we get into the relationship, the man’s eyes and dick wander… and the woman looses all respect for him. She gave her heart, and he threw it away. They don’t love us, and we don’t respect them. Aaahh, what a wonderful relationship. Yet we keep hanging on, hoping one day we’ll be enough.

Sadly, the men are the intelligent ones. If the circumstances are right, they never promise anything. They tell you not to expect anything. Yet they keep talking. Keep delving little by little back through those walls you’ve painstakingly erected, only to once again leave you hanging. Will the women of our species ever learn? Namely, ME? Lol, sometimes I crack myself up. Oh, the heart is a time bomb; exploding with love, exploding with pain, exploding with indignity, exploding with rage, exploding with joy. 

Perhaps it’s truly time to dismount, hang up the chaps and spurs, and forget men for a while. I had though I’d already done that. But apparently that little horse of hope somehow managed to get me to climb back on board. And he threw me, hard. I had a helmet on; but apparently not enough padding. The bruises will heal and hopefully teach me the lesson I seem determined to repeat. 

Hope is a dangerous thing. Even when you think you have all the cards, he somehow slips an ace on you; blind sights you when you least expect it. You’re left picking your stupid ass off the arena ground, and that little pony bounds away bucking and nickering in mocking laughter. All you can do is stare after him and dust yourself off. 

Next time he comes around, you’ll know. 

Next time he bounds up to you with those soft eyes and silky coat, you hope you’ll be able to throw the lariat at him and drive him away instead of holding out a carrot to lure him in closer… out of hope. 

Next time, next time. 

Because there’s always a next time, isn’t there? 

Yes, YES!! MORE!!

Picture this: 

 A sexy blond with legs all the way from her ass to the ground. Long, curly hair. Full, pouty lips. And a cherry red 1993 Camaro SS. The engine growls; she shivers in anticipation. Behind the wheel, she handles the beast like a pro through the treacherous mountain roads. Finally at her destination, she cuts the engine and everyone waits in anticipation for her to emerge. Who is this girl? Where did she come from? She opens the door. Slings one long leg out. 

Then realization hits... She’s stuck. Growing up driving trucks and big 4X4s, she’s not used to getting in and out of little go-carts. 

“Shit”, she thinks. “How the hell do I do this?!” 

Only a tad bit ungracefully, she manages to crawl out of the tiny driver’s seat and land mostly on her two feet. Now everyone is for sure staring. She takes a swig of her Diet Dr. Pepper to rinse out her dry mouth… and misses her mouth, effectively spilling the sticky drink all down the front of her shirt. 

That’s right, folks. Sometimes you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. 

But, regardless of my somewhat lack of grace in getting out of small spaces (I have a tad bit of Closter phobia) I’m now addicted to go-fast cars. 

It’s sort of akin to climbing aboard a 16.2hh Thoroughbred and galloping around a 3’6’’ jumpers course. Nothing in the world to compare to the thrill… except driving a zippy little car with an orgasmic engine. 

Sea Kittehs... The Other White Meat.

You've got to be kidding me.



PETA has announced their campaign to save the sea kittehs...

I realize I may be a day late and a dollar short posting this, but I guess I had to wait for the information to sink in a tad. Don't get me wrong - I'm completely against puppy mills and hunting for the sake of killing. But I'm all about a well cooked steak with a dab of A1, and I’m not about to shrug out of a sublimely soft and warm mink coat when it's 17 degrees outside. 

But fish as the new 'sea kitten'?! Seriously?! 

If PETA gets their way Long John Silver’s and Red Lobster are going to be out of business before we can say “kitteh-nip”. 

“Given the drastic situation for this country's sea kittens—who are often the victims of many major threats to their welfare and ways of life—it's high time that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) stop allowing our little sea kitten friends to be tortured and killed. Who'd want to hurt a sea kitten anyway?!”

No, I don’t want to hurt the fish. I wan to eat them. 

“Sea kittens are just as intelligent (not to mention adorable) as dogs and cats…” 

Pretty soon we’re going to have circuses of little fish performing dare-devil stunts; jumping through hoops held high above the water and awash in tartar sauce.  

A friend sent me this the other day and all I have to say is .. Well Done. 

To Finish Is To Win.

Off on yet another tangent... 

You know, life’s major forces and be described as different styles of equestrian activity. 

Take, for instance, school. That ride has been much like an endurance race… go figure. Long stretches of trying terrain interspersed with restful vet-checks. You keep yourself going by loving the ride - and when you’re not loving it so much, you’re patiently racing (lol, juxtaposition much?) toward the finish line. Our motto in the AERC - American Endurance Ride Conference - is, “To Finish Is To Win.” Some might think that leaves a little competitiveness to be desired, but understand the complexities in a 100 mile race… you only have so many hours to finish… you MUST be fit enough to continue… your horse MUST be fit enough to continue… Much like school. I’ve been to many different schools. After I graduated from high school, I went to Animal Dynamics in Ocala, Fl. I’m a certified Equine Sports Massage Therapist. After Ocala, I went to the University of South Alabama. I thought I wanted to major in International Studies. But, no. So I went to massage school. One year later, I was a Licensed Massage Therapist. The learning doesn’t stop there! Now I’m taking classes at Wallace State Community College. From there I hope to transfer to a four-year university to finish my Bachelor’s. 

It’s been a long and challenging race. Who knows where the trail will lead next? I just know that my vet-check is over, and it’s time to saddle up and ride the next loop. Keep that Finish Line in sight!


Then, of course, there’s dating… oooohh! Everyone loves to hear juicy gossip about another‘s love life. That particular beast has given me a rough ride. I’ve temporarily dismounted and hung up my chaps. I need to reinvest in a new helmet and glove. THAT genre of life is akin to bareback bronc riding… Bouncy, Bouncy, Bouncy - “Oh Shit! That ground’s coming up fast!” But, like all good rodeo riders, we keep coming back for more. As soon as the wounds have healed completely (baggage isn’t cute) I’ll be striding bow-legged into the arena once more to hold my hat and pray to God this round will last the full 8 seconds. (no, not a sexual slur… in my arena 8 seconds ain‘t no ride!) 

Work is sort of like dressage. You start out low-level and train your ass off. You work hard, your horse works hard. Competition, clinics, lessons, ass-chewings, research, reading… and suddenly it all comes together for that next big raise and promotion. Eventually you’re the one giving clinics. Hard work, but rewarding. Dancing with horses. Juggling people, politics, and self goals. Being willing to put in the work to get the desired results. Sometimes you get instant gratification, sometimes not. It’s all a learning process.  

Much as the trail of life. You jump obstacles in your way, swim through treacherous heartaches, climb seemingly endless uphill battles, carefully negotiate the downhills, pick up a few ride-buddies along the way, and have intermittent stops to rest and recoup. Sometimes you’re ready to go on, sometimes you need to be pulled and just go back to camp. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be up at the crack of dawn, saddled and ready to go with all of life’s other competitors. It’s important to keep the fact in mind that it’s not the destination that counts… it’s the ride along the way. To Finish Is To Win. 

Ramblings From An Inventive Mind.

And here we…GO

So today I watched the Presidential Inauguration. I wonder what we’re getting ourselves into with this one… Only time will tell. I know I’ll keep praying and hoping that President Obama will make the best decisions regarding our wonderful country. 

In the past, I’ve never been much into politics… rather, I’ve always had an interest but never enough to get off my ass and do something about it. Odd, coming from a military family. Not to mention my ex-fiancée is a former Marine and delves as deep into politics as he can get and still remain relatively sane. I guess being with him has rubbed the political itch off on me, so to speak. I’m not going to be blogging any of that jargon right now - I don’t want to sound like an idiot. I want to have a firm platform to stand on and right now my collective information is like Swiss cheese. 

Sometimes life throws unexpected curve balls at you. Well, I guess life always does that… that’s what makes it life, no? So strength is, in essence, how you handle these curve balls and whether or not you learn from your past mistakes. I firmly believe everything happens for a reason; not necessarily preordained, but a reason nonetheless. What can be so unequivocally frustrating is the reason isn’t always (if ever) clear. Why do some things have to happen? It seems like some choices are presented and then others thrown on top of them just to make things interesting. And all above mentioned choices are completely relevant and potentially life-changing! 

Maybe it’s not quite so complicated… Just a thought… Maybe you’re supposed to repeat a particular lesson until you actually LEARN it and CAN move on.. So the choice is there, and the education is judged by present circumstances and decisions made therein.  

That cleared up a lot. 

Finally, a semblance of peace in an overwrought mind. Maybe my daily fight to die to the old way of thinking and take up a more present-oriented structure is starting to take effect.  

Blogging: Take Two.

Today has been filled with emotion. 

Humor: My nine year old cousin informed his Uncle that they eat the “butt cheeks” of the deer that his Daddy kills. 
 “Really,” said Uncle. “I eat the back strap.”
 “Well, my Mom cooks the butt cheeks,” my cousin proudly declared.  

Solitude: This morning I happened to look out one of my bedroom windows and see a young doe wandering around. She was beautiful. And so very peaceful. She walked; stopped; listened; foraged; walked some more. The threat of danger was imminent, as hunting season is still in full force. Yet her entire being was quiet; watchful. Observing her for those few minutes was one of the highlights of my day. Such beauty and serenity sometimes cannot be found but in nature. 

I had planned on writing more, but I’m too bloody exhausted. Perhaps tomorrow will prove more fruitful the recounting of my daily conquests. 

Rampant emotions and White Zen seem to work in accordance to effectively drain the body and mind of every last reservoir of energy. 

Ciao for now.  

To Blog, Or Not To Blog...

So I finally bit the bullet. To blog, or not to blog. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. My previous view of blogging insisted that it was a waste of time and energy. We’ll see how long I last. Being a full-time college student, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to expound on the daily adventures of my life. Or even if that’s the road I’ll take with this one. 

I’ve had a lot of changes in the past few years so maybe this will be one I stick with. Or maybe not. Perhaps this is simply a ruse of my intellect in order to retrain myself with the basics of writing. College is definitely a motivator. 

Right now I’m going to a small community college until I get a few more credits under my belt and decide from were I want to obtain my Bachelor’s. From there, on to bigger and better. No, I haven’t decided on a major. I’m enjoying the novelty of living each day for the moment instead of constantly trying to plan and look too far ahead in the future. That particular way of thinking has gotten me in trouble more than once in my past… so now time to change it. I’m simply relaxing into the routine of life. 

For now, my priorities consist of loving on my wonderful Shagya/Percheron mare, finishing this semester with as close to a 4.0 as I dare challenge myself, once again getting my physical standard back to what it was when I was competitively racing (Endurance Racing), and making the most of my time here up on Farfel Mountain (as the family fondly calls it). 

I have five horses up here to torture, (yes.. I torture horses with apples, carrots, kisses, and love), and couldn’t be happier. 

My pride and joy is a Shagya/Percheron mare named Sheebah. We jump, play dressage, kick-ass at mounted police work, and can climb any mountain you put in front of us. Yes, she’s my endurance horse. (although you wouldn’t know it now looking at her! Her feet {finally have recovered} and gotten huge - so has her ass!) We’ll be taking care of that as soon as the weather cools off a bit. 

My other four are actually my aunt’s horses.. But I have pretty much free reign over them. Stormy is my red-roan appendix gelding. He jumps, LOVES cows, and would be amazing with mounted-police work. 

Sweetheart is my palomino quarter horse. She’s a doll…as her name implies. Once I get her up and going again, she’ll be my dressage diva. 

Scarlet is a kick-ass little bay mare out of the Zipps Chocolate Chip line. Would go for $8,000 easy on the pony-hunter circuit. So that’s more than likely her destination (pony hunters). 

Scarlet’s baby is the pistol of the bunch. Lilly is a sorrel and white paint that’s as sassy as they come. She can turn on a dime and give you nine cents change… I’d like to get her turning around some barrels. 

If I end decide to keep this up, I’ll post some pictures of the others. Right now they’re fuzzy and fat with the winter woolies. 

I absolutely love my horses. Nothing in the world can compare to the sight of five magnificent creatures cantering up and nickering to you in the pasture. And when that one special one softly whuffles in your hair and nuzzles your back for more attention, your heart melts all over again. 

However, I think this will suffice for my official first blog entry. We’ll see how to progress from here. 

Ciao.