Leaping Lena

Love and scratches for the spotty horse!

Lena says it is time for some spotty horse love on Spotty Horse News and she's right. Luckily, I was still at the barn last night for her latest jumping lesson with Allie and took photos and videos that I hope do them both justice.

Allie is a friend of Katie's who has been riding since she was 8 or 9 and rides really well. Soft hands and legs, good balance, just the right amount of input. She thought she was just going to get to ride a horse a little just to keep from (as she put it) going insane. "But I've learned so much with her!" Allie exclaimed while trotting around me in the arena last night.

Cow horse over poles

Lena is a cow horse and she has a lot of natural propulsion on top of a high level of athleticism. When she is unsure of what you're asking or decides you are not directing well enough, she has been known to use her power for a little bit of evil.

"She would come up to a jump and try to go sideways, but if you just shut the gate, she says 'okay' and moves forward," Allie said, smiling. Lena is smart and a little crafty, but she--like most horses--prefers to be told what to do. Allie's biggest challenges have been directing the energy but not squelching it and teaching Lena to think instead of just react. Forward is what you want, forward is a good thing, but forward with a brain engaged is even better.

And Lena is learning to think as she leaps. Lena is learning to relax and stretch down. Allie is learning how to train (convince) a smart, sensitive mare to do something she wasn't bred or trained for and to relax and have fun in the process. Well, Allie is usually pretty relaxed which is good because Lena is not. Or she wasn't, but she is beginning to be.

Steve is thrilled. "I am so lucky," he chuckled as we watched the videos I took, "to have someone training my horse and doing such a great job with her!"

Lena is lucky, too. And more than pleased to finally have a post dedicated to her glorious spotty self.

Hello reality

Every parents worst nightmare

I would just like to say that sometimes reality is, well, too real.

August has been a heck of a month--starting very first thing with the dog who attacked Steve and Kyle and ending up with my daughter in ICU thanks to a rude and unruly horse. (NOT one of ours!)

Thankfully, everyone is okay. Actually, the dog that attacked Kyle and Steve is a little too okay and was spotted off-leash again just last weekend. Really? Because I'm sure that dog will never again attack another dog because its owners are too damn lazy to hook a leash to its collar. People really annoy me.

And there may even be a horse or two that annoys me--one in particular comes to mind right now.

I wrote about some of the trials and tribulations of August for our horses and for Katie in this post on the Neigh Savers blog, but I did not write as a parent. I did not write about how terrifying it is to be able to do nothing but hope and pray for your child to heal, about wanting to trade places with her, please, just let her be okay.

Just over two weeks ago, Katie was at work leading a trail ride. The horse she was on took exception to her holding him back and reared, going over backwards. He started to step on her and she got out from under him but he nailed her in the left thigh as she stood up. She went to the ER that day and was discharged with some pain killers after a CT of her head showed no injury and x-rays of her pelvis and femur came back clean.

A few days later, though, all was not well. Her leg was swollen down to the ankle and so was her abdomen. We got her in to see a doctor and when they discovered a slight fever, we were sent for a CT of her abdomen and an ultrasound of her leg.

Lots of time spent in waiting rooms with a kid too big to hold and rock in my lap.

The ultrasound revealed a clot that went from knee to groin and we went directly to the ER. Apparently, Katie told the tech not to freak me out. It is a good thing I have learned to panic only when appropriate, though I really wanted sirens on the Miata. Lots of sirens. Get the heck out of my way sirens, as a matter of fact.

Through it all, Katie maintained a sense of humor and strength--even when faced with multiple IVs throughout the day followed by all her parents crammed in one tiny room in the ER. Tough chick.

Because the clot was so large, they were going to put a tube in that vein that would deliver blood thinners directly onto the clot and aspirate it at the same time. It was an awesome plan but it ran into a complication upon execution when they found a bleed in her abdomen. You can't very well introduce blood thinners when there is internal bleeding, nor can you stop a bleed with clotting medicines when you already have a clot.

They wheeled her up to ICU and started giving her blood, the first goal being to stabilize her and stop the bleeding so they could start the blood thinners. Her dad and I both offered to get hooked right up to her (I'm a perfect match) but apparently the blood bank is in good shape and they didn't need us. The doctor may have thought we were a little weird. He was probably right.

Katie spent six days in the hospital, half of it in ICU. She will be on blood thinners at least another three months, but has tentatively been cleared to ride (walk and trot only) in two weeks.

She is extremely lucky and she knows it. The bruise that extended down her entire thigh just last week is nearly invisible. She is young and healthy and doing a pretty good job of taking it easy and caring for herself.

The desire to pack her up in bubble wrap may fade in time, but only because I wouldn't want her to do it to me. And I know she's wanted to more than once.

Hello reality. Thank you for reminding me what's really important and what 's really fluff and nonsense.

Where Katie will be again--and hopefully soon

Dance partners

Trying to decide who is leading the dance.

Having a 1,100 pound dance partner can sometimes be challenging--especially when there is so much for both of us to learn. Our trot is a constant work in progress and while we are making headway, some days the discombobulation that ensues (literally) bounces between frustration and hilarity. What to do, what to do? Besides, of course, keep practicing. Well, the other night, he and I had a bit of an epiphany. Actually, I had the epiphany and he said, "It's about time!" On the heels of watching all these fabulous Olympic dressage horses dancing in time to music, I remembered how well Calabar responds to tempo changes when we do ground work. What if we tried it (gasp!) in the saddle?

Many, many people suggested humming to Calabar to help me work through my post-accident anxiety but I really hadn't done much with music. I talk to him incessantly while riding, but that doesn't help with keeping our timing on track. So the other night, I started singing to him as we trotted, encouraging him to keep a steady gait and playing with tempo as a way to get him to speed up and to slow down.

I got happy ears and we managed to do a much better job of moving forward at a steady pace than we normally do. Hm.

Steve contends that it is actually me keeping my own timing better which in turn directs Calabar more clearly. I suppose that is true, but my pony deserves some credit for pretending to enjoy my singing and for letting me lead. My equine dance partner is also a good singing coach--sideways ears and funny looks immediately occur when I wander off key. The look I get when it happens reminds me of when Katie was a little girl and didn't know what off-key meant, just told me I "sounded wrong."

Calabar has always responded  to music, likely because it was a part of his life on the track. He will speed up or slow down based on the tempo of what I'm singing and always perks his ears when he hears music from anywhere. His taste is particular, though. He doesn't like minor keys or heavy metal, for example. The neighbors were playing Led Zeppelin one afternoon and Calabar's head went straight up, eyes wide, as Robert Plant blasted out, "Been a long time since I rock and rolled." Then there was some dancing sideways until we got into the indoor arena where the guitar licks were muffled a bit. My horse appears to prefer the mellower sounds of Bonnie Raitt and The Dixie Chicks, but with this new-found entertainment, it looks like we'll have to expand our repertoire.

That being the case, and knowing my brain will only hold so many song lyrics, I have dusted off my ancient (but still functioning) iPod and there is a new playlist on it called "Calabar" based on what I think will work and some friendly suggestions. Also based on what I think I can actually sing.

And the dance continues.

The perfect horse

He looks so happy and relaxed--dinner time!

Working in the world of re-homing Off-Track Thoroughbreds the last several months has been both rewarding and only sometimes annoying. (See my mild rant here). It has also made me appreciate my horse and the depth of commitment I feel towards him. Some might hear my story and say I have a blind spot where Calabar is concerned, but I prefer to think of it as a stubborn streak. It's still only half the story. The other half is the fuzzy brown horse on this journey with me--my version of the perfect horse because he has been perfect for me in many, many ways.

Perfect, but not easy.

Calabar, is smart and affectionate but he is not a push-button horse. It used to be that he was not easy for me to stay on, and there were more than a few times we parted company in spectacular fashion. Now that I ride better, he is challenging me mentally as we work on increasing his skill-set from trail riding and meandering around the arena to a little dressage work. "How much do you want me to trot in that circle, change directions and keep going? Okay, I did that can we do something fun, now? Like eat dinner?" Luckily, our goal is not the show ring--or if it is, I'm not in any particular hurry to get there--and we can take lessons and try things to see what works for us.

Cross over in back!

Neigh Savers does get people checking out our ex-racehorses as potential show horses, though, and we have had several very successful graduates, like Warning Zone. And some ex-racehorses can even go to upper level competitions--just look at this list from this year's Rolex to see an impressive list of OTTB competitors.

But all of it takes commitment, patience and at least a little time--even if your goal is just to hack around on trails. In some ways, it might be better not to take too much time--barring injuries--to at least get your new OTTB settled into a new routine away from the track. Forrest, for example, had hardly any down time and he is an eager beaver as far as work goes and has managed to stay sound. (Except for a self-inflicted gate injury, that is.)

Calabar had a couple years off before I got him and he perhaps thought retirement suited him. It doesn't. He is a much better horse now that he gets regular exercise and attention, even if we have to argue a little sometimes about how much is too much. He was a sprinter, you see, so we affectionately refer to his attention span as six-furlongs long. I use that limit to our advantage, though, because honestly it matches my own. There really is only so long I can do one thing and it seems we are twinsies in this regards. It also helps me to push him past his limit, teaching me to stay focused just a little bit longer each time until we get the right thing. Or at least a little closer to the right thing. Then we do something else for a little while before returning to what we need to work on. It keeps both of us entertained that way and we still make progress. That's a trick I wouldn't have if it weren't for the big brown horse and I suspect it will come in handy with other horses I meet.

Luckily, except for one abscess and the mystery football knee, Calabar has (knock wood) always been sound--even on his bowed tendon. Sometimes he is sore and stiff, especially in winter, and sometimes after a tough trail ride he likes a little liniment and a day off. So do I, so he gets both. I view his aches and pains from the perspective of my own aches and pains. He's an ex-super athlete, and like a lot of us--even those of us who were only mortal athletes--there are places that hurt if we sit still too long. My knees are actually noisier than Calabar's and the worst thing I can do to them is sit at my desk all day. The more we learn how to get him in frame, the better his body will work, too, but mainly it's important to keep him moving. I use yoga to strengthen my own core and stretch stiff parts and walk nearly daily for cardio. In fact, Calabar is my inspiration to stay in shape and keep my weight down--he has to carry me after all, so I try to do my part to make it comfortable for him. If I'm strong and active, I'm more able to move with him--or at least stay out of his way--and that makes us a better team.

"K, you were right. THIS is fun!"

That teamwork, this journey we've had, has changed me in so many ways--mentally and physically--and I love where we are now and where I can see us starting to go. Calabar is who he is and he always brings it all to the table. His challenge to me is to be a better horse person each and every day. My challenge to him is to trust me when I say, "No, really! This will be fun!" 

Other people's dogs

This is a post I never thought I'd be writing, a post that I would rather not be writing but that through the inaction of a bad dog owner, I must write. If you're a dog owner, own your dog. That doesn't mean just feed it and love on it, it means own it and take the responsibility to train it and teach it how to mix with normal society. If you don't, bad things can happen.

Remy. Can't believe how much I still miss this little dog.

Steve and I don't have our own dogs. Not because we don't like dogs, mostly just because we have enough on our plates with the horses. We both love dogs as a whole and most dogs as individuals. Ever since Remy, I have been a vocal supporter and defender of the bully breeds because my experiences had always been positive. 

Right up until last week, and honestly, it's not the dog leaving a bad taste in my mouth--it's the owner.

So here is what happened and why I'm writing this post I don't want to write. 

Steve walks our neighbor Jennifer's shepherd/catahoula mix Kyle every day. Kyle is not an aggressive dog at all. He is curious, but he is easy to work with and has never once been confrontational with another dog. Steve is the dog whisperer. Dogs love him. Even dogs that can't be approached by most people love him. It's uncanny. Steve and Kyle make a good pair. 

Kyle is lucky Steve was there the other day.

They were going down our hill like they always do when a black and white Pit or Pit mix came charging up from one of the houses. Apparently, the owner had left the dog with friends and neglected to tell them not to let it loose. 

Steve says there was absolutely no stopping it as it tore up the hill and latched onto Kyle's nose. Steve fought  off the Pit and got it to let go of Kyle, who wisely took off at a dead run with the Pit following behind. Luckily, Kyle was faster and on the way back by, Steve and the owner's friends were able to capture the Pit. Steve was okay, albeit scraped and bruised from rolling around on the cement protecting Kyle, but he was not bitten. 

The owner was called and agreed to cover the vet costs and also agreed to call Steve later that day to let him know what she planned to do with the dog. The friends indicated there may have been problems with the dog prior to this and Steve says the dog was absolutely single-minded in it's pursuit of Kyle. This is a man who walks up to dogs that scare most people and has never had a problem--well, except having them follow him around and drool in his lap--and I absolutely trust his judgement in this assessment.

The owner finally called Jennifer and--after he made two calls to her--eventually called Steve back as well. Jennifer felt like there was no remorse and Steve is convinced this will happen again because there was no real commitment to do anything. Theoretically, the vet bill will be handled directly as the hospital would not take Jennifer's money once they found out it had been an attack. We'll see.

This is not the dog's fault. This is complete and utter failure on the owner's part to do what the dog needed before it got to this point. And I honestly don't see how the dog can be salvaged, which is the real tragedy. I hope I'm wrong, but with the owner the dog has it seems unlikely.

As cute as Remy was when Katie brought him home, his potential to be aggressive was obvious and had to be curbed, sometimes very firmly. He was going to be a big dog and we knew he needed to be socialized with cats and horses and other dogs from day one to become a dog we could trust. Sadly, he never got to be a big dog and we all still miss him, but that was the responsibility we took on when we welcomed a Pit mix into our home, and we took it very seriously. The reward was a funny, smart, self-confident puppy who was loyal and happy, could go to the barn and out on walks without eating evil Pomeranians even when they deserved it.

The dog that attacked Kyle and Steve has an owner who doesn't care or assumes she will always be there to control the dog. Guess what? She won't be, and that dog will hurt or kill someone else's dog.

It's absolutely NOT about the breed of the dog in question. I LIKE the bully breeds--A LOT! I met a lovely Red Pit on my walk today who was calm and respectful and--even though she was nervous--never once did anything that worried me. I wouldn't care if the dog that attacked Kyle and Steve was a Pomeranian or a Golden Retriever--the actions and behavior are the problem.

It is very much about an owner who chose a dog they can't or don't choose to handle correctly. What sucks is it is always the dog that pays. I just hope this one doesn't take any more with it.

Two hobbies, one set of shoulders

Now if I could only teach Calabar to dive...

It occurs to me that my two hobbies--one older, one newer, both represented in the photo above--are not going to reduce the size of my shoulders. Not that I want them to, no. I have worked hard to have this set of shoulders and they serve me well in all things.

Swimming and diving in various surface and not-so-surface conditions--check. Lifting and moving jumps and jump pieces--check. Carrying 40 pounds of scuba gear on my back through a fancy resort in Hawaii--check. Lifting saddles up over my head on a regular basis and rubbing down big, brown horses who don't always like to be groomed--check.

Some people think muscles on women don't look feminine. I think I am who I am--including the set of shoulders in the picture--and I like who I am. Shoulders and all.

Forrest the student

Forrest and his unicorn braid

I love Katie's horse Forrest. He's like an unspoiled vision of a horse--kind of like Lena, only even more trusting and eager. Lena is trusting, she just thinks she knows better than you do most of the time. Calabar is trusting.. primarily of me, and then only most of the time. Neither of them can match Forrest's eager-beaver nature, though--not by a long shot.

Maybe it's because he's young? Maybe our two horses are too jaded by the arena to attack it with as much energy as the young unicorn pictured above?

Thinking about it, as much as Forrest is like Katie in most things, he is like me in one thing. He is the kid in the front of the class trying to get the teacher's attention by coming up with an answer--any answer--as long as the teacher picks him. This was me as an older student, not me as a younger student. I had to realize there was something interesting out there to learn. Looks like Forrest has already figured that out.

Calabar says welcome home!

"Oh, you're home! More treats!"

I feel a little spoiled coming back from swimming in warm salt water and having this lovely brown horse greet me with a whinny of enthusiasm. Okay, so maybe he was just hoping for more treats, but there was a touch more snuggle than normal, too. Steve says it was obvious he missed me. Steve is a wise and loving man. Calabar has me wrapped firmly around his hoof but was also a very good  boy for our first post-vacation ride.

The trip was indeed awesome. Not only for the diving, which was incredible, but also because I. Did. Not. Work. Not once. I actually deleted my work email account off of my phone so I couldn't even see when I got an email. (If I see it, then I look at it.. you know the drill.) I will re-install it. Soon. Maybe.

What was also awesome was the fact that Calabar did not forget what we'd been working on when I left! His trot is evening out, he's responding to the cadence of my posting, he is using his hind end and making nice circles with me--it's fantastic!

Of course, he is still a little on the lazy side, but once I wake him up, he gets into it. He (as always) prefers to not drill on the same thing for hours, but to mix things up a little. So Saturday we went out to the outdoor and did some trot poles--ooooo! He thought those were okay and then we circled around the vaguely scary pile of sand. It got the eyeball, but I just kept him moving forward around it and he forgot it was new and terrifying after a minute. Or maybe he saw Lena and got distracted. Either scenario meant he didn't spook, which was the goal.

We went down the driveway to the road, bouncy walk and ears up the whole way. My horse is the only horse I know who slows down on his way back to the barn. Yes, he does. Just have to figure out how to get that big forward-ness IN the arena. (Bribery, Calabar says.)  It would be so nice to have a gallop or trail around the property where we board so I could skip the arena sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. The road is okay, but it's cement and there are other distractions (like idiots who drive too fast). But for now, we will just expand our arena obstacle adventures and keep on keepin' on.

Meanwhile, Lena has been getting ridden pretty regularly by the wonderful Allie--there are now two very colorful English saddle pads, one purple and one orange. The purple looks fabulous on Lena Rey and I'm thinking I'll have to try the orange on Calabar. Sometimes Lena gets ridden twice in one day, but that does not appear to be doing her any harm and in fact she is very calm these days and moving beautifully.

Love my ponies. Glad to be home. Still miss swimming in warm salt water, though.

Another risky expensive hobby? Oh yes.

Jess and Steve underwater at Molokini, off Maui

As if horses are not risky and expensive enough, Steve and I have decided to take up scuba diving as well. No, we don't actually expect to get life insurance any time soon. 

Steve was a diver many moons ago and introduced me to snorkeling on our first trip to Maui twelve years ago. We stopped traveling to the islands shortly after acquiring horses (no regrets), but managed to put away a few pennies over the last ten years for another trip. And this one had a goal--to get both of us our PADI Open Water Dive Certifications.

We did all our book-work online and then arranged to do the dives here where the water is not freezing cold. I love Northern California, but diving in clear, blue, warm water is quite delicious.

Do I miss my horses right now? Yes. Yes I do. Am I trying to figure out a way to get my horses and my diving in the same vicinity? Oh, heck yes. Did you know you can ship horses from Oakland to Hawaii on a boat in 4-6 days? There is even a company right near us that does it. Do I think my horses would approve of this? No. No I do not. At least not that part.

But back to the diving.

Much like backpacking, only minus the food and with the addition of the dangers of running out of air, diving is so wonderfully self-contained. It's AMAZING!

Steve at Molokini

We had an interesting juxtaposition of experiences. Our first 6 dives--including the four certification dives--were all boat dives with Lahaina Divers. They are a well-oiled machine of a shop. The operations crew gets you checked in, waivers signed, gear rented and on the boat seamlessly. We had great instruction and support from the entire crew and some fantastic dives. Steve had some issues with seasickness and even that was handled with professionalism and pragmatism--never a hint of discouragement. 

Molokini (actually a crater left over from a vent off of Maui's volcano Haleakala) was incredible. We had 200 feet of visibility and it would have been so, so easy to just keep diving down the water was so clear and there was just so much to see.

I've decided that warm salt water is really the only thing I want to swim in. This means I'm out of luck for awhile, but oh well.


On Thursday, our last day on the island before we head home Friday, we tried a different shop. We wanted to do a shore dive and Lahaina a) doesn't do shore dives and b) didn't have enough equipment to rent because they were booked so they sent us to Maui Diving. This was a totally different experience. 


The owner is there in the shop and on Wednesday afternoon, booked us a shore dive to Black Rock the next morning. We showed up at 9 a.m. Thursday, geared up, climbed in Kevin's van, and headed out. This crew is a little more laid back than Lahaina Divers but no less passionate about diving.

Here's the difference between a shore drive and a boat dive. You have to hike in to a shore dive WITH YOUR GEAR on. It's kinda heavy, in case you're curious. But on the plus side, it is less likely to cause nausea and if you want to cause a stir at a fancy resort? Well. Strolling through in a wetsuit with a tank strapped to your back will do it. Hawaii has no private beaches, so any resort must provide unfettered access to the shoreline. Some of them don't like it, but in the long run, they have to provide it. I admit to a small amount of evil delight hiking back through in our gear.

It was awesome.

Hawksbill turtle at Black Rock, Maui

So was the dive. We swam around the point, encountering turtles, eels, fish and narrowly avoiding tourists jumping off rocks above us. Forty minutes of bottom time, warm water and I hear there is video coming soon. 

I would definitely dive with both shops again. Lahaina can take us out to some great places by boat and Maui Diving can get us in the water fast and easy.

The next question is how to wrap all this up in one perfect lifestyle package. First step is convincing two 1.200 pound horses that a 4-6 day boat ride is a reasonable thing to do.

Magnetic personality

Not a band-aid, no. A teeny, tiny (but powerful) magnet

When Karen came out a couple weeks ago to work on Lena, she also took a look at the big, brown "do-not-massage-me" horse. I don't know why massage is such an issue with him, but it is. "You're touching me! Ow! That's too HARD!"

Karen made it easy on him. She went to him. We didn't trap him in the cross ties this time, no. We went to his paddock and she didn't even try to massage him--she used the laser.

We got maybe 20 minutes.

Stubborn, twitchy brown horse.

Just in case we thought he was relaxing about the body-work thing, she did try to massage him after the laser. How fast can a Thoroughbred side step? Pretty fast as it turns out.

"Does he always twitch like that? Because.. there aren't a lot of flies."

"Um. Maybe?"

Later, upon recounting the story to Steve, the excessive non-fly induced twitching was confirmed.  Drat.

The twitch was first noticed during last year's trip to Slide. I thought it was the saddle pad--and it's definitely more prevalent when there is pressure of any kind on his withers, especially when it's hot outside--but since it seems to come and go, that's unlikely.

Calabar--as I've previously mentioned--has what we gently refer to as "junk" in his withers. Even an amateur such as myself--or at least a person familiar with her own knots and nodules--can feel the globs of mess in there. That's not the only place, mind you, but it is a very touchy and sensitive area as far as he's concerned. And he is very concerned.

When Karen applied the laser/magnet device (apologies, I don't actually know what it does, only that it works), there was a very immediate response. Thankfully not a swing-my-large-brown-self-into-you response, either.

The next day, the twitching was noticeably absent.

Karen recommended trying some magnetic therapy and even directed me to a rather inexpensive source of therapeutic magnets.

We have learned duct tape is required and even then, you're lucky to get 24 hours.  This makes it very difficult to monitor effectiveness, I might add. I haven't clipped Calabar yet to make him more adhesive, but it may happen. Though I don't (gasp!) have any electric clippers. 

Steve says he wants to document that process but I'm afraid he'll be laughing too hard to capture it.

So the general upshot is that I can't tell yet if this is helping, but I'm certainly willing to see how it goes. On the plus side, there is bit by bit less resistance to actual massage--as long as it's me doing it and only in very limited doses.

Lena says that's fine--more for her that way.

Helmets and short attention spans

Calabar modeling my helmet

Okay, I admit it. I barely noticed the helmet after a few minutes. (I wore it, Bar did not.) It also did not in any way make me over-confident, oh helmet nay-sayers of the world. I did have helmet-hair after all was said and done, but I was also--as usual--covered in horse snot, so vanity is really not an issue.

While I was helmeted and not feeling like I could slay dragons, we did more work at the trot and the walk, concentrating on direction changes and staying forward. We also discussed working past the six-furlong-long, spit-the-bit OTTB attention span someone seems to have. 

We discuss this often, as you may guess. 

"But it's dinner time." 

"You had grain already."

"But I didn't get any of my hay. What if Peter forgot me?"

"He didn't forget you and if he did, I'll feed you." 

"BUT EVERYONE ELSE IS EATING!!"

"Suck it up and go."

"Fine. But I'm starving. Just so you know. Hard....to......concentrate... think.. blood.. sugar.. is.. dropping..."

"Give me a good trot this direction and we'll call it a night."

"How about this?"

"I said a good trot and you can't stop until I say so."

"FINE. Here? Are you happy now?? Crap! What was that?"

"Nice spin. That was Forrest and Katie and you knew they were there. Again with the trot."

"YOU'RE TORTURING ME!!!!!"

"Right. Again. Now, the other direction."

(I can't share this part because I'm pretty sure it contains curse words not fit for "print.")

"And there we go, thank you for the nice trot!"

"Can I eat NOW?"

"Yes."

"Awesome! I love you!" Smearing of snot on shirt occurs here.

"I love you too, Calabar."

Helmet feedback so far

I love my readers and my friends, I really do, so just wanted to do a quick follow-up to last night's post. I actually have a pretty good helmet. It's green and hanging in the tack room right now, gathering dust. It's even fairly comfortable, though I'll let you all know how comfortable after I put it on today.

Thank you to both Kate and Suzanne for not pestering me before now. I am doing my research and you're right--while not the most common injury, head injuries are the most likely cause of death. 

And--while I agree with Kathy's comment about not caring since I'd be dead--I also agree with her and Kate's sentiment about not wanting those I care about to have to wipe drool off my chin. (AND sooo glad to hear from Kathy, by the way. Glad Bert is okay and you are both still riding!)

Imel, I may never convince Steve to wear a helmet, but I found a reference that likens riding risk to motorcycle riding--and he always wore a motorcycle helmet even before it was the law.

I do accept the risk of riding, and have the battle scars to prove it. I have two mounted injuries (arm and butt) and one unmounted injury (ribs). It's likely not an if but a when that I bounce my noggin on something. My noggin has to keep functioning for a lot of years--I can't retire for another 27 years--so risking mush-brain is risking a lot.

My friend Sasha--who has very personal experience with someone with a TBI--reminded me that even a full recovery may not lead to it being the same person they were before the injury. 

Your arguments are all very compelling and I truly, truly appreciate the feedback. It won't stop me from being irritated at the helmet-police on Facebook, but for my own personal thought-processes, this has been invaluable.

The helmet question

My last post drew the question (from Suzanne): 

"One thing... why no helmet? I've been curious about that given your safety concerns..and working with a young horse. Curious..."

I don't honestly have any reason--let alone a compelling argument--as to why I don't wear a helmet. I used to when I rode my bicycle to commute. I don't have any vanity issues--trust me, vanity is hard to come by when there is always horse snot on your shirt.

My flip response is, "I never land on my head," which is true but not the real answer. (I really need to be wrapped in bubble wrap, if we get right down to it.) The other not-so-flip part of my answer is that Christopher Reeves was wearing a helmet and it didn't prevent the injury that changed his life forever. 


Steve, who has had a concussion, still doesn't wear a helmet. He hates things on his head, always has. I don't have that excuse and you'll see me with a hat on more often than not. 


So why don't I wear a helmet? 


I don't really know. 


Since I don't know, I'm going to try a helmet-wearing experiment this week and see what I find out. 


Will it change the way I ride? Will it annoy me? Will it do absolutely nothing except keep my noggin a little safer should my horse do anything odd? (Which, by the way, he has not done since our accident in April of last year when I broke my butt.)


There are certain things that, were I doing them, a helmet would be worn--jumping (I'd like to) and eventing (not likely) among them. But it is my right to choose--my head, my decision--helmet police be damned. 

Yep, here I am, without a helmet.

And there are a lot of helmet police out there. Every single time someone posts a picture on the internet of someone riding without a helmet, the helmet police start yammering in the comments.


I am not including Suzanne in their numbers AT ALL. Her comment--based on the history she has followed for quite some time--is exceedingly valid and she's given me a lot to think about and consider for which I thank her. I'm talking about the folks who are compelled to comment on every. single. picture. of riders without helmets. Stoppit already.

Could a helmet prevent a concussion or other traumatic brain injury? Yes. Can it prevent other catastrophic injuries like paralysis? No.

The best prevention is staying on the horse--something I continue to improve on--and learning to fall. All things considered, I fall pretty well. Broken arm and butt, but no head so far--knock wood. 

I don't know (yet) if I'm making the right decision, so I'm willing to experiment with noggin-coverage to see how I feel about it. But in the end, it is my risk, my choice. Steve and Katie--those who would be most affected--respect my decision and we've had the appropriate discussions about all the "what ifs" that could be.

Gabrielle Giffords surely did not expect to rebuild her entire life--from motor skills to speech--but she is doing it with an amazing determination. I at least know and understand the risk I take, each and every time I get on that horse, and I accept what it could mean. She had no warning, none, and yet she survived and continues to improve. 

Life is short. Life is unpredictable. I drive a tiny convertible because I love the sun on my shoulders and the wind in my hair but I also wear a seat belt. 

I don't know where the horse-helmet-safety balance is, yet, but I do know I have accepted all the risks. Or at very least accepted that despite my best efforts, I can't always control every nuance of the universe.

The journey is the journey, no matter what path it takes.

Time to push a little more but nag less

Having gotten to a point where I can ride Bar without hyperventilating, it's time for us to do a little more. He needs it, I need it and the right kind of training will make both of us stronger and more supple--meaning we will be in good shape to ride together for many, many adventures which is my real goal.

First, I needed to see what all we are doing so I have a better idea what to work on next. I have lots of tools to try, but have gotten so caught up in thinking I don't know what I'm doing and/or am not riding well, we aren't really progressing--either of us.

My friend Katie Dougherty-Kunde graciously came over to my barn to shoot some video of the big brown horse and me and--miraculously--she didn't fall over in hysterical laughter. Just kidding! She actually even voiced some reminders of the things Bar and I worked on with Ellen in our last two clinics. Being able to watch and see exactly what is happening underneath me and relate that back to what I know I asked and how I asked it turns out to be a hugely valuable tool. The video also showed that while not perfect--not by a very, very long shot--I'm also not as spastic as I thought I was. That was just enough of a confidence boost to help me realize I can keep going and get both of us riding better--and doing it together.



Watching the videos, it is obvious my horse is a hair on the lazy side. An ex-racehorse? Lazy? Yes, yes he is. I will be adding some motivational tools as we work on getting him to carry me versus me being a constant nag. Nagging is actually completely out of character for me. In fact, an ex-husband once told me I didn't nag him enough. Since we were divorcing at the time, it was a moot point, but the fact remains that I do not like nagging. I don't do it to Steve and I try very, very hard not to do it to my daughter Katie.

Apparently, I save it all for Bar and that's only under specific circumstances. I simply don't ask him to work very hard and that is primarily because I'm afraid of what might happen if I ask for more. Oh, the epiphanies abound after watching the videos.

Katie, understanding my fear, had a great point about asking a horse to move forward--even when you're afraid of what they might do. "If they are moving forward, they have a place to go with that energy." Steve has also reminded me on more than one occasion that I actually ride better than I think I do and have actually managed to stay on Calabar fairly well of late--even in some tricky situations.

Once Calabar and I had done some work--including our version of the trot and some direction changes--he did loosen up and give me a more forward and engaged walk. I think he actually likes the work--even if he is lazy and even if I'm still nervous--so there will be more asking and more doing.



I think we are both actually ready this time and--really--I hate to nag so it's time to push this to the next level for both of us.

Lena gets a spa day and Bar tolerates magnets

Yes, I know. My horses get more massages than I do but always for good reasons. Calabar needs one, but he is not a good patient. Lena needed one and she is a good patient, so it was her turn today. Why did Lena warrant a massage?

Well, it goes a little like this. BANG!! Thump, thump, thump. BANG BANG BANG! Kadiddididah, kadiddidah. BANG BANG BANG! (Yes, I did make up that word, but if you sound it out and you've heard it coming from your trailer, you know what I'm talking about.)

When we came home from our trip to Slide in May, we put Lena in the front of the trailer. Normally, Calabar rides in front because Lena tends to scramble. Actually, she always scrambles and nearly always bangs up her hind legs.

As it turns out, this time was no exception and she also ended up jamming her butt into the side of the trailer and apparently tweaking her spine in a couple different ways. Even though Lena has been moving fine, I wanted Karen to come out and take a look--mainly because a little corrective care now is better than Lena Rey hurting more later.

 Note to self: Lena likely won't get over the aversion to the front bay of the trailer so (at least for now) she rides in back. Calabar seems to be okay with that and has been loading without a hassle so this will be status quo until further notice.

Ahhhh... butt rub.

Lena was mostly relaxed--with only a couple minor "no, don't touch there" spots. (Right scapula was the most sensitive) and did a full-on cat stretch during the laser part at the end of the massage. Karen even commented that Lena's neck looked longer and the muscles there look really healthy--no doubt thanks to the dressage work Allie has been doing with the spotty mare.

Karen did great work and pretty soon there was yawning. Big, jaw-cracking yawning.

Letting out the toxins

As she worked, Karen and I talked about her business and how it's evolved from just massage to leg and foot care to proper training and riding. Karen says it has all built on itself as she realized it's all inter-connected. Good foot care and proper, balanced riding means less of a need for massage--so in some ways, she actually tries to work herself out of a job these days as she focuses on some of the other aspects of a balanced horse.

Karen also takes each horse into consideration. Lena was fine being manually massaged and manipulated in the cross ties. Bar? Not so much. Last time we tried, teeth flashed and even connected more than once.

Today, we went to him. There are no pictures because I was holding his halter and being nuzzled (a lot) while Karen used her laser/magnetic therapy on his withers. That's all. Just his withers--and just the left side at that.

He has developed a sweat pattern up over his left scapula of late and it was time to have it looked at. Knowing Calabar doesn't like being trapped in the cross ties and has a hard time with pressure of any sort, Karen took the laser beams to him.

He managed to hold still for a whole 20 minutes and the twitch that is not caused by flies was a little bit better at the end of it all.

We call it junk in the withers. Calabar calls it his own personal baggage that he might let go of someday.

Lena says he has no idea what he's missing.

Horses and the jobs they do

Horses need jobs. There, I said it.

There are those out there who disagree, who think admiring a horse is enough and your equine friends will be happy to be free and loose in a field just being horses. "Look at wild horses," they say, "They are happy and free!" 

But wild horses do have jobs--they have to survive. They have to move constantly, find food, mate, defend territory and raise foals. It's hard work and they don't live nearly as long in the wild as our more pampered companion horses do.

OTTBs do NOT chase bags of socks. So there.

This makes a job even more important for domesticated ponies, horses who don't actually toil hard for a living running ranches or plowing fields. In my case, this is simply working and playing in the arena and on trails and teaching Calabar new things as they come up. Like how to ignore a mechanical cow, for instance. Our current challenge is breaking up the arena routine enough that--while we still get work--we don't get bored. Oh and getting me to be brave enough to step up his training some more.

Ex-racehorses are used to having a job and a routine and plenty of people around them to help them carry that out. They are used to being busy, watching the action unfold around them and figuring out how that action may or may not affect their daily business. They are very sensitive, these athletes. Horses in general have to be to be part of the herd and also to keep from being eaten. Racehorses spend so much time with people, they sometimes seem to go on overload trying to understand what we want, what we're doing. 

Forrest View showing an OTTB can slide stop, too.

So what are good jobs for ex-racehorses? Traditionally, OTTBs have gone onto careers in eventing and dressage, as well as hunter/jumper, polo and even barrel racing and other speed events. These are all events where their speed and athleticism come into play and that use the forward propulsion they already know. The rumor is that they have the hardest time with dressage simply because of the controlled nature of it, but there are plenty of examples that they can perform at high levels as well.

Silva Martin and Sea Lord - from offtrackthoroughbreds.com

Oddly enough, that hum of energy under their skin can also be turned towards calmness and teaching in the right circumstances. The Square Peg uses several horses--including some ex-racehorses--to work with children and families dealing with autism. Yes, entire families because that's what it takes to make it all work out. In fact, they are doing a clinic on the HorseBoy Method (yes, that HorseBoy) this month and if I weren't already booked to go to Hawaii, I would be there.

Joell with Square Pegs lights up when she talks about the effectiveness of the method as a way to foster healing and communication. The workshops themselves are not designed for the kids, they are designed to give caretakers tools and exercises to "better serve the child at home." 

Why would I be there? Because I don't know enough to really understand why horses can do so well with autistic people, but I know enough to be intrigued. What is it about that energy that can make a horse know to be still and calm, as Zenyatta was when she met Jack. (Jack's dad even commented on this blog post I did way back when--quite a thrill for me.)

There are other programs out there that I'd love to learn more about, too--including OTTBs working with inmates at the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation and with war veterans at places like the Saratoga War Horse Project and BOK Ranch. 

Why do these sometimes high-strung horses work in these situations? I think it's precisely because of their sensitivity--it turns them into energy mirrors. They are also smart and curious and many of them love humans--particularly their own humans. In a world where so many people are in a zone where real communication--not Facebook, email or texting, real face-to-face communication--is sorely lacking, a horse can often remind us how to be human. For people cut off from feeling human--or cut off from feeling "normal"--a horse, any horse, can be a path back from that place. The horse doesn't judge, no. They don't do anything but respond to you, as you are, in that moment. 

Calabar being sure things are safe before coming out

Here's what I do know about my own horse. Calabar is extremely sensitive to people's energy, emotions, volume level and moods. He watches everything around him always and reads me like a wide open book. We have, however, made progress and he now believes me when I tell him everything will be okay and I'll take care of him. He may not be the perfect candidate for a therapy horse--indeed, children make him nervous for a reason I have not yet fathomed--but he is an excellent teacher and mood regulator. My energy is immediately telegraphed to him whether I like it or not, so he has helped me tap into my inner calm place. (I do have one, really.) He has shown me when I'm distracted, not paying attention, out of focus. And it is instantaneous feedback. From an ear-flick to a buck, there is always a response. 

He is never--not ever--checking his phone, his email, his text messages. And he bumps me with his nose when I do it to him, which is only fair.

Horses are incredible therapy for all of us, but for those who are looking at the world through any kind of barrier--mental, physical, psychological--they can lead the way back through the maze and reconnect us to ourselves, to our humanity, to each other.

That may be their most important job of all.

Escape to the beach

Sweaty, shiny, happy ponies post-beach ride. 

I admit it, my house did not get cleaned this last weekend. I thought about it, really I did. It just hit the lowest priority on the "things I need to do" list. There was work and there were bored ponies. Bored ponies, as I've said other places, can cause problems.

Saturday, I had a call with my side-job boss to plan out what needed to happen on the website we're working on. Right after that I met with someone to help them figure out Constant Contact for their email marketing. Since I'm having a lot of fun doing what I'm good at, it's really not like work, but then suddenly it was Sunday and I really wanted to get out with the horses.

They wanted out, too. Calabar has been exhibiting symptoms of extreme arena fatigue for weeks now, as has Lena by all accounts, and neither of them had gotten enough work with the Sacramento/Miata fiasco. 

But I knew I had work to do on the website and the house was also in dire need of some sprucing up so I had a bit of a moral dilemma on my hands.

The house lost, but the horses won. (So did the website, but this is not Spotty Website News.)

They ware so anxious to get away from the arena, loading was a breeze. Bar went in first without any hesitation--none, zip, nada--with Lena prancing around anxiously until I got the divider fastened. I just barely ducked out of the way fast enough!

"Uh, I guess you guys are ready to go?"

We just went out to Doran Beach and wandered through the deep sand to the end, skirting the waves and watching the activity around us. Then we turned around and trotted back, adding a canter or two on the way. (Plus one buck on Calabar's part when he didn't want Lena to pass him and I had the audacity to insist he slow down.)

Then came the best part as far as Calabar and Lena were concerned.

We un-tacked at the trailer and walked back to the beach, the horses snuffling the ground at every third step. "Just hang on, we're almost there!"

Post-roll, sandy Thoroughbred shark-fin withers in the background

We walked them onto the sand and the rolling commenced. One side, then the other, then the first side again. Then one more pass. I was holding the end of Calabar's lead rope when he went down for his last pass. I watched as he dug his back deep into the sand and when he became vertical--feet to the sky--I could barely believe it. To my knowledge, he has never been able to roll all the way over because of his shark-fin withers. He tries, oh how he tries, but I've never seen it happen. 

He teetered, all four feet up in the air, then "fwump" went over on the other side. I cheered. People looked at me like I was crazy and I didn't care. He got back up and shook, looking surprised and quite pleased with himself--then gave me a big, sandy, slobbery kiss.

And today? Today I got a very forward and enthusiastic horse in the arena. "Sure, we can keep trotting, no problem! So what if it's dinner time, let's work!"

Best decision I've made in a long time. Even if the house still needs sprucing.

Except now Calabar wants his own sand pit. Preferably a very deep and soft sand pit. Negotiations have begun.

Adventures without horses

Well without my own horses, that is.

This past weekend was the annual Western States Horse Expo in Sacramento and Karen and I volunteered to help support Neigh Savers in the CARMA booth--enlightening the world about the value and versatility (aka awesomeness) of the Off-Track Thoroughbred.

Apparently, it was also the weekend my clutch (or some part thereof) decided to crap out on me. While I am still stuck in Sacramento, the weekend itself was a marketing success and a solidifying of our mission. I also found out what a completely rock-solid travel companion Karen is--hard to find, truly appreciated.

The weekend started out early on Saturday, me my usual ten minutes late. I picked up Karen at her house at 6:40 a.m. with the goal of being at the Cal Expo Fairgrounds by no later than 9 a.m. and we made it in good time, even with a breakfast stop.

We had a great day in the booth, talking to people who loved Thoroughbreds and people who didn't know anything about Thoroughbreds--great stories one and all. We met a man wearing a Vietnam Veteran's cap (and his daughter) who loves the launch his OTTB exhibits on the trail and that makes other people say, "Uh...., should he be doing that?" To which this nice man just smiles and rides off ahead of them.

Jess and Karin Wagner, CEO and founder of Neigh Savers, by the Brag Board

Karin had our brag board done with plenty of pictures of Neigh Savers horses doing all kinds of fun things with their owners and it helped attract people to the booth to tell their own stories. There is so much TB love in the world, so many people doing different things with Thoroughbreds--eventing, barrel racing, trail riding, everything--you name it, they can do it--and it was great to talk with so many people who enjoy the breed. We also met owners of Quarter Horses, Arabs, Standardbreds, Drafts and draft crosses--you name it, most breeds were well represented in the attendee pool. And it seems we all have pictures of our ponies on our phones.

We were right next to the California Thoroughbred Breeders Association and had live racing to follow when there was a lull in the crowd. They sponsor the Thoroughbred Breed exhibitions at the Expo-a good example of something I'd like us to start doing up in our neck of the woods with our own OTTBs. There were three very different-looking OTTBs doing different things in the arena--from Polo to jumping. One was Calabar's age and build--dark, dark brown all over with no white. One was a stately older gentleman of 21, very tall, with the classic Roman profile. And then there was the gray--he is just four and had actually gone to an owner who tried to make him into a cutting horse. They said he was too tall and intimidated the cattle, so now he is learning to jump. And jump he did. And then for a fun finale, she took him around the arena at a fast gallop. He was quite pleased with himself after that.

Polo demonstration

Stocky gray and very talented OTTB

Having Karen there to explain the subsequent Dressage demonstration was quite helpful, too. I saw lots of things Bar and I could aspire to with a bit more seriousness in our work. Okay, maybe a lot more seriousness with plenty of trail rides tossed in the middle for good measure.

We also perused an impressive selection of trailers, including one that would look so pretty behind the new truck. Alas,while the prices were very good, no one was giving any away for free or at least as close to free as I need right now.

Wandering through the sale barn, we caught sight of a tiny spotty horse and a tiny stripey horse! Yes, a baby zebra. They made quite a pair and definitely deserve a mention on Spotty Horse News.

Spots and stripes

Besides more horses than you could shake a stick at, not that I did, there were tractors and trucks and lots of things to buy. Mostly, I refrained except for some joint supplement for Bar, a new pair of breeches (only $20!!) and some lotion that will supposedly cure everything under the sun. Mostly, it just felt nice and didn't smell. The miracle is yet to be seen.

Our replacements in the booth on Sunday were from The Square Peg and they are doing some really cool things with horses--including several OTTBs--and autistic kids. Joell told us some wonderful stories about how they use the horses to help whole families deal with autism--starting with putting the mom on the horse to be carried, to learn to trust the horse, to direct. They are having a workshop in July with the Horse Boy Foundation. Would be really cool to get down there to see that.

You're waiting for that car thing, aren't you?

We drove the Miata because I didn't need the truck with just Karen and me. Besides, it is fun to drive as well as extremely economical. We had a smooth drive up, no issues--despite the wind blowing us all over the road. The multiple loops we made trying to find the hotel, while irritating, were also a source of amusement. Did Karen get grumpy? Did she start to whine? NO!! I honestly can't thank Karen enough for her positive attitude. This could have been worse in so many ways--the Miata died in the parking lot, not on the freeway, it didn't catch on fire or strand us on the side of I-80--having a travel partner that didn't make it worse was fantastic.

However, it did die. A clutch pedal should not hit the floor with absolutely no resistance. Bah.

Steve's estimate was I'd be here until Wednesday but luckily the service department at Maita Mazda up here--despite being booked solid--squeezed Lenny in to do the diagnostic. Lenny apparently wants a slave. A slave cylinder that is, and apparently he wanted it when I was 120 miles from home, rather than politely dying around the corner from my mechanic like a good car.

Why yes. I anthropomorphize my car, too.

The part was delivered today and they will put it in for me tomorrow. And then I will drive as fast as is reasonable all the way back home to Sonoma County and my own ponies.

As much as the staff here at the Hilton in Sacramento has made my stay quite lovely, I'm ready.

Horse work versus house work

There is a project here I'm neglecting for the ponies, I'm sure of it.

Those of you who know me and love me know that I am not, nor will I ever be, Susie Homemaker. I don't cook--except when forced by absolute necessity and then a bowl of cereal is often the go-to meal. I do not go into psycho-germ-killer mode when cleaning house, and dusting is at best a semi-annual activity.

Luckily, Steve not only likes to cook he does it well and with conscious thought to both our waistlines. He also does the grocery shopping which means we actually have good things to cook. My own choices are often expedient, get-me-out-of-here-fast choices.

Because he does the cooking and grocery shopping (and car/house/trailer maintenance)--not to mention 98% of the paddock cleaning so all I have to do is show up and ride--the house cleaning is my chore. Let's rewind a minute--NOT Susie Homemaker. The best I can say is I keep chaos (and outright toxic conditions) at bay. Dusting usually occurs to me laying on the floor doing yoga staring up at wisps of cobwebs highlighted by the sun coming in the skylights.

It is a good thing that Steve does not require a spotless, sterile house with matching drapes and bed skirts. It is also good that he tolerates the "I-don't-want-to-forget-this" pile next to my purse. A pile that frequently gets recycled a few months down the line anyway.

Before you say it, yes, I know--I am totally spoiled. Rotten. To the core. Just like my ponies.

I used to clean a little more regularly every weekend--when I had a smaller space to worry about and, you know, BH. Before Horses, weekends were the time for movies, laundry, weekly cleaning and even yard work when I lived somewhere that was required.

After horses, well, honestly--it is much more fun to ride than scour my toilet. Heck, it's more fun to pick up horse poop than it is to scour the toilet. Yesterday, we re-graveled a few spots in both Lena and Bar's pens, moved mats around AND cleaned up horse poop--all way more enjoyable than dusting, let alone toilet scouring.

But today I beat back the chaos and germs and helped with the laundry so that next weekend I can put on my marketing hat and help represent Neigh Savers and CARMA at the Western States Horse Expo in Sacramento. Granted, this is not horse time with my own horses, but it is horse time of a sort--as in doing something that involves supporting and loving horses.

Even my version of cleaning knows that going two weeks will only make it take longer to get to the barn.

Summer arrives in Sonoma County

Pismo Beach, November 2011

Suddenly, it's June and time to enjoy longer days and warm weather with the ponies. It really seems like yesterday that we were in Pismo Beach for Thanksgiving--enjoying warm weather in November before a winter that was just weird. We had roasting hot days, then rain and storms just when we thought it was all over--twice delaying our trip to Slide Mountain!

Suddenly it is convertible and tank top weather--and time to stock up on sun screen. My Irish heritage makes this a necessity if time in the sun is to exceed 15 minutes. And that's with anything below SPF 30. It is also the time of the year for perpetual hat hair as I strive to keep the rays off my often-burned (over the years) nose.

It is also the time of year I get lazy horse. "It's hot," he says. "I'm sweating, ew," he wiggles under saddle. Now in some ways, this is good. I got a very lovely and gentle canter today due to the lazy factor.

In some ways, this is bad.

"Yes, you need to continue trotting."

"BUT I'm HOT."

"And my riding breeches are sticking to my thighs, do it anyway."

"Fine. But just so you know, I am not happy with this situation. I'm just too hot to bother spooking or being exceptionally evil."

"Well that's good. Maybe we can both learn a little."

"Pah. It's too hot to learn."

It occurred to me that the two races Calabar won were in the fall--October 15th and November 22nd of 2003. I'll bet they were crisp, cool and sunny fall days. Those are his favorite days, usually involving great displays of bucking and farting and rolling--days you let him get at least some of it out before climbing on. Then you hang on for good measure once you're up there.

But warm weather and sweating are definitely not his favorite.

"Did you notice I'm dark brown? I'm like an equine solar collector."

Big brown solar collector

"We'll ride in the covered arena."

"I'm still hot."

"You're a sissy."

"No, I'm a delicate flower and it's hot!"

"Suck it up and keep trotting."

"Fine, keep posting. We'll see who's tougher."

At the end of the day, it's usually a bit of a draw--especially when temperatures creep above 80. I get just as tired and sweaty as he does--no, I do not glow--and if he at least gives me his attention and tries, I call it good.

Luckily, because we're in Sonoma County, the fog will no doubt make a cooling appearance soon and none of this comes with air you have to swim in as it happens in the Midwest or back east. I'm quite sure Calabar would never get above a walk were we to live somewhere like that. I wouldn't, so why should he? I admire those of you who do swim and ride at the same time. I don't envy you, but I do admire you.

On the plus side, the beach should be PERFECT this weekend. Time for ponies and riders to escape the arena! With plenty of sunscreen for some of us, of course.

Hello, summer!