Preparing for a show is NEVER the fun part...

Due to the inconvenience of bad weather yesterday, I decided to abandon my Netflix account and switch around my jumps. Since He Who Must Not Be Named has been rather unreachable these last few weeks, I had to come up with my own layout, dredging up lines and measurements from the few months I had with him.

Before I delve into my riding activities, I have to tell you the very beginning of this story. My trainer is from Colombia, South America, where of course, everything is in the metric system. I'm so glad that the horse world is converting to the same thing, but it would be fanTAStic if Home Depot would accommodate this. I went in there looking for a tape measure a while back. I told the handy man in the orange vest that I needed a measurement tool that had both meters and feet. He responded with, "They told me the U.S. was converting to the metric system in third grade, too. It'll never happen. We don't have those." Of course. Thank you for the patronizing lecture, sir.

So now, whenever I want to change jumps, (which thanks to 'HWMNBN' is weekly to twice a week) I have to use a handy conversion app on my iPhone and a lot of stupid brainwork. And here I thought I'd never need math...

Anywho, my day consisted of lugging my homemade coop across the arena to make three single jumps into a single and a 17m line. Yeehoo. We're moving up in the world. I'm hoping one day I'll figure out how to include pictures of all this stuff. I've learned some handy homemade jump-making tips these last few months. Any uncreative idiot can have quite a fancy course:D

So, after waking up horribly late and feeding my poor beasties at 11am this morning (don't worry, they're used to it by now), I pulled my lazy bum into a pair of ill-fitted, but wonderfully cheap, riding pants and faced the humidity. On a strange note, I lucked out and both Patrick and Bella were delightfully clean. Go figure. Notice how they're always clean when you're not in a time crunch?

I hopped on Bella first, and I figured it was going to be a rough ride because she had a meltdown when I turned her fan on and opened her stall door. Quite literally. She fell onto her butt. Apparently that breeze isn't supposed to relocate. Thank God it's not an oscillating fan...But anyways, I tacked her and attempted to mount up, to which she delightedly walked away from the mounting block without me aboard. Circle. Circle. Finally, I managed to climb up there. I love mares in heat about as much as I love heartburn at 3am in the middle of a hurricane...

Now, I've had my jumps in the ring for about a month now, not to mention they were all in Florida. So naturally the best course of action is for my horse to run backwards, creating a canyon in my sand ring, at my new jump setup. Heaven forbid that coop move somewhere else (mind you, it was the ONLY jump I moved, with the exception of adding some 2.20m ground poles). You know the drill. Mountain lions, cheetahs, packs of wild horse-eating extra-terrestrial space invaders...After a quick 10 minute collected warm-up circling that stupid coop, I finally popped her around my jumps. I kept everything little, something in the 3'0" range, since that's all we'll be jumping at Taylormade this weekend. I was somewhat shocked. She jumped around great. I took her in deep, long, sideways, collected, extended. No qualms. Go figure, right? I was especially concerned because I set the line on a forward 17m from the coop to a liverpool oxer with crosspoles on both sides. She doesn't like jumping off a stride out of her comfort zone, but she barrelled right down to them from both directions. I hope this means we're ready to win some eq classes this weekend! However, I wish they had ground poles to warm up over at shows...so handy.

Patrick, of course, being 4 years old and only in full training for two months now, paid no mind to the relocated coop, and flatted around like a little champ. Why, oh why do these things happen? Granted, he DID throw a minor temper tantrum when girthed...again. Thankfully, however, there was no flinging-of-himself onto the ground today. I love personality! *Groan substantially...

He's been having some trouble picking up the correct lead, and always wants to balance on his outside shoulder. His hind end has become much more enthusiastic (which just means it's easier for him to protest via crow hopping...), but he still likes to swing that outside shoulder in canter transitions. I really got after him for it the other day, and today he was perfect both directions. I took him out of the draw reins and into a standing martingale to work over some canter poles, hoping that he's starting to develop some balance on his own. I was well reward when he went through the 2.80m set nearly perfectly off both leads, holding when I asked, and extending when I told him to. I think he's finally ready to face his first jump when my assistant (also known as Nathan) comes to help me on Tuesday:D Raised canter poles and cinderblock stone wall here we come! Who knew cinderblocks could be used for more than foundations? I'm in love. $1.35 at the Home Depot, and you have the world at your fingertips!

Was that boring? Questions, comments, feedback, advice, suggestions on any of the above?

I consumed an unmentionable amount of strawberry bon-bons while writing this. Ew.

Let's List the Stats

I'm Anna. I'm a 23 year old college graduate who has no job and a meek outlook on that which is life. Unfortunately, I have a herd of seven 4-legged friends dwelling in my backyard. They eat too much and generally don't earn their upkeep. I try to tell them to work harder, but sometimes those leg yields are just too taxing. Bucking in protest is far less energy draining, and it usually comes with the reduction of weight on one's back. On the average occasion, I'm given a resentful equine eye-roll and then sneezed upon. Oh, life, isn't it grand?

So here's the scoop. I've recently returned from Florida (translate that to: "Been home two months. Just slacking off") and become rather...well, unemployed. Sitting on YardandGroom.com and complaining about the lack of jobs in my market only schmoozes over the parents for so long. Eventually, you have to send out that resume. Ahoy. We have problem numero uno. I haven't made a resume since my high school advisory class senior year. Oh boy. Google: Resume Templates. Asap.

So here we go. The main players in my life right now, other than myself, of course, are as follows.

He Who Shall Not Be Named = No, this isn't the eighth book in the series. I just don't want to get in any more trouble than I'm already in. I'm sure you'll hear all about that later. He's not currently in the picture anyways, but I rode with him in Florida and he decided NOT to come back and ride nearby, thereby leaving poor defenseless me with the following hooligans.

Bella = 8 year old Thoroughbred mare. Generally speaking, she's about as good as it gets in this little fairytale I'm writing.

Patrick = 4 year old Thoroughbred gelding. He's my little (and I don't use that term lightly) sale project. His interests include bucking, falling over when girthed (but only when wearing an expensive saddle), constantly picking up the wrong lead, fighting the draw reins whenever possible, and entertaining himself with a party cup for 45 minutes straight. He also knows how to fetch. He's really a doll, I swear.

Bailey = 3 year old Holsteiner filly. Ah, my pride and joy. When I can actually get on her. Here lately the mounting process usually puts me in the dirt and a bad mood.

The others will come and go. Gotta go fill out my Howard County Horse Show Association membership form. We have a show to prepare for :/ This could get interesting...

An Introduction to My World of Equestrian Chaos

Whoever thought up the idea of an Equine college degree probably thought they were brilliant. It's the ultimate slacker degree. You can walk through the hallowed halls of your local equestrian school with years of experience and tons of know-how. Yippee. Four years of sleeping in and boozing it up. What they fail to tell you upon entrance, is that you're doomed to face multiple years of whoring yourself out to the highest bidder. This usually includes the farm with the least amount of clover, the fewest stalls, and a mexican to do all the heavy lifting. I mean, really, who's with me here?

Anywho, some of us even still miss that memo, and continue on their quest to equestrian stardom. Does anyone else find it ironic that the word 'quest' is built right into 'equestrian'? I think I just chuckled to myself.

On that note, I decided to run myself straight into pandemonium. More of it. Yup.

So this is the documented account of my daily mishaps and the opposite of whatever a 'mishap' is. Prepare yourselves. More is to come.