Wrong place at the wrong time
I’m struggling to understand why I am the only one at almost any barn I’ve ever been at who gets hurt. Repeatedly.
Yesterday I was doing in-hand work with Dundee and he had just finished up a very nice shoulder-in down the long side. We were coming through the haunted corner and he saw something move. Judging from his frantic leap it could have been anything from a leaf blowing across the ground to Satan himself ascending from the pits of hell. My guess is that the blue tarp covering a pile of who-the-hell-knows-what shifted, though it wasn’t even windy… Sunday it was windy and I rode bareback with a cavesson and he didn’t even flinch. I think it’s the accumulation of not enough work. Due to our saddle-fit issues I’ve been reluctant to get on him and exercise the demons out of him.
Okay, so Dundee leaped, I wasn’t paying attention or I would have moved in time (yes, my reflexes are that good…when I’m paying attention). I fell, he ran over me, then stopped and looked back at me as if to ask “what the hell are you doing on the ground?” It was a total fluke that I had my helmet on. I never wear a helmet to do in-hand work.
Well, I couldn’t very well ride after that seeing as I couldn’t move my finger or walk due to the outrageous pain in my leg, but he definitely needed to work. So it was back out on the longe line. I think he must have recognized the(homicidal) look in my eye because he was a prince for the rest of the morning, and his work on the longe was really beautiful.
Getting home was interesting. I hobbled. I would have crawled if not for my finger. I seriously thought about going to get my leg x-rayed when I saw that it was already four times the size, blue and bleeding(through my half chaps and pants! He’d just gotten new shoes an hour earlier…I have a lovely hole where the nail landed), but shock never hit, so I doubt it’s broken. It sure hurts enough to be, though. (I know this because I have broken my leg before. The same leg, in fact. Why is it always the left leg? At least that time I was riding…a lot more respectable than being trampled.) I have decided that my finger was dislocated. Why do I think this? Because this morning I slid it back into place with an unhealthy crack, and a string of curses and now I can move it.
You know, I expected to be hurt when I was breaking and galloping racehorses, but doing IN-HAND work with an eleven year old warm blood gelding?
Woe is me Pt.II
Bullet by Laurell K. Hamilton and Eternal Kiss Of Darkness by Jeaniene Frost finally arrived today. They’ve both been out for months, but I was waiting for Bullet to come out in soft cover. I so didn’t want to pay 17 euro for another crappy book, and let’s face it, Flirt was bad. Well, there’s the suck factor and the fact that I heard a rumour that some of Anita’s men get killed off. If Jean-Claude meets true death part of me will die inside. I love that vampire from the bottom of my frosty soul.
I have the first part of my Eternal Kiss Of Darkness review already. Front cover: LIKE. Where can I find this man who should be Mancheres, because DAMN!
Unfortunately, Crescendo did not arrive with the rest.
So apartment hunting…what a pain in the ass, eh. Called a woman about a damn near perfect place today. No dogs allowed. Perfect. Two more to call about on Monday. Cross your fingers one of them works out! Want to get moved before my birthday. *cough cough March 17th*
Writing…yes, well I remembered yesterday that I had planned to write a chapter from Lavigna’s POV. Amongst other things… At least I can honestly say that I’ve put some more work into the House Of Thorns sequel. I should probably be putting more thought into the new project(still under the alias Apocalyptica) but I love writing Alexa and Faine. I started digging for more lit agents, spreading my horizons to the UK and Ireland this time. It’s odd, but it would seem that they request different material in their submissions. For example, one agency asked for a breakdown of all characters. Of course, they didn’t accept anything remotely paranormal, so I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Sure I could do it, but I’d really rather not. Take my synopsis instead; it’s got all the blood, sweat and tears anyone will ever need- unless the agency in question practises voodoo.
I believe I promised some bitchy little stories, and I’d hate to disappoint. Well, it’s official: the women at this barn hate me. And I’m not being dramatic this time. There’s the first woman whose life revolves around her inbred German Shepherd. That was one that Darby had it out with because the dog apparently doesn’t speak dog and continued to annoy old Darbs. She was the first one to complain to the owner of the place about me. Then there was the day that bitchy woman number two’s daughter had rollarblades on while I was riding. Darby doesn’t like rollarblades. Any my kids refused to tie him up…I was riding…did I tell this story already? Anyway, she complained about me too. The owner finally asked me to tie Darby up while I ride. No problem, though it would have been nice if the women had come talk to me rather than about me. Then there is another woman-who happens to know me from the old barn where Dundee was kept. She is the one who speaks to me like I’m a handicapped child, and who two weeks ago asked me if I’d gotten confused between hay and straw. I’d put straw in front of the stall, instead of hay, because a friend had had extra after doing her own stall. Hello?! I’ve been riding since I could walk, but please, tell me, is there a difference between hay and straw? If she had taken a closer look she would have seen that the stall was still undone and the horse was missing from said stall. Well, a few days ago I was cleaning Dundee up after our hack out and she comes up with her fat Haflinger and asks me, in the most condescending tone she could muster and the dumbest english ever spoken(not because she can’t speak english, but because I might not understand) if it’s okay to put her pony next to Dundee. Again, hello? You’ve known the damn horse for the past four years! It’s really too bad Dundee almost ran her over when I was finished and took him back to his stall.
Afterwards, my friend pulls me aside and says “I’m supposed to tell you, from, let’s call her bitch with the fat Haflinger, that Darby pissed in someone’s box.”
My face twists in confusion. “She couldn’t have told me that herself?” I ask.
“No,” my friend says, “I’m supposed to tell you what he did because you’re my friend.”
WTF?!?!?! I’m there every day, and have known the bitch with the fat Haflinger for years, but I’m still just someone’s friend hangin’ out at the barn? I mean, I agree it’s not great that he did it, but it wasn’t her stall. Ah yes, I was loud in my retort. And colourful. Something about her being an arrogant bitch and having a lot of nerve being so condescending when I have years experience on her, and if she had a fucking(spike in volume) problem she should say it to my face and not behind my back.
Yeah, I’ll probably be asked to leave.
Pity party for Danielle.
Another one out of Finland. This song is amazing.
Woe is me Pt. I
What a bloody week. I’m so glad it’s over.
The last two weeks have been Fall holidays for schools in Germany. I don’t really get the point. They start the new school year in AUgust, two weeks earlier than us, then have two weeks holidays in October. And as soon as we get into the ‘up and out the door by 7:30′ routine, it’ll be Christmas holidays.
Needless to say, with two youngsters around all day, I haven’t gotten much in the way of writing accomplished. Or anything else for that matter. And somehow no matter how early we arrive at the barn, we lose an entire day there. BUT because I haven’t written much lately, and because this week was an absolute fucking catastrophe, I have many words that I’ve (mostly)managed to suppress.
I believe it all began Sunday. Let me paint this very frustrating picture for you. (All you rider’s probably know it). You get on the horse, pick up the reins and the horse is hard. Hard through the mouth, neck, back. It’s a similar feeling to wrapping the reins around a tree trunk and asking it to bend. You ask, whisper, threaten, demand, beg, but no cigar. All he wants to for you to get off, put him back in the field with his friends and then drop dead so you can’t bother him with dressage ever again.
Such was the case Sunday. He was hard as a rock, escaped every circle and made a mad dash to the corner nearest the field where his girlfriend stood hollering for him at the gate. I have a vague idea of his reply. (“This bitch won’t leave me alone!“) I got off repeatedly to lunge once my arms got too tired to carry the front half of the horse around the ring, and at one point he galloped away, lunge line in tow. The other rider in the ring dismounted and helped me catch him, then said that his temporary insanity was normal, that I should just accept his rude behaviour and it’s the owner’s problem, not mine. “What?!” I screeched. “I have to ride him, more than the owner, so it’s kind of my problem! And I should just take this crap from him?! Oh, nuh-uh!” Then I proceeded to try ‘working it out of him’ for another hour and a half. With no luck, other than frustrating and exhausting myself. And for the rest of the night, I couldn’t get this terrible ride out of my head. Why? Because the terrible rides always seem to outweigh the great rides. One step forward, eight back. I couldn’t accept it as normal. There had to be an underlying issue. And by-golly I think I found it, and I do believe it’s a two-fold issue: asymmetry and saddle-fit(or rather, doesn’t fit. My saddle-fitting best-friend assured me this is correct.)
Let’s start with the asymmetry. I was browsing through a Dutch student of Bent Branderup’s blog, looking for something and I found this video:
I was chilled to the bone when it reached the ‘cripple’ stage. Have I ever mentioned that Dundee’s left shoulder cracks after working? Left is the side we’re always fighting…connect the dots…*goosebumps*.
I was wondering in my last post which method to go with, and after all this logical information and such a simple and logical solution, I’m sold. Perhaps I’ll even reach Knighthood one day. I don’t think there are any Canadian Knights yet…I’ll be like a bloody pioneer. Kind of. Not really. Whatever.
Back to the point. So just as a person isn’t created equally on the left and right side, neither is a horse. Which means that he lacks both the coordination and strength in one side of his body to respond correctly to the rider’s aids. I believe this may be to blame for his frustration and utter unwillingness to work. And why I believe that for Dundee’s physical and mental well-being typical dressage is the wrong path to travel. I mean, think about how you’d feel about someone demanding you write an essay with your left hand (or right for you Lefties), possibly being cruel when you don’t do it well enough. Eventually we may be able to write with our left hand, but we’ll probably hate both writing and the person who forced the essay out of us.
The other problem with asymmetry is a constant lack of balance, especially working on the left hand, where he throws his weight onto that left shoulder. How can an unbalanced horse possibly react correctly to a rider’s aids? They can’t. Instead they (can) become nervous, hard in the back and hands, unfocused and eventually shut off completely. Sounds about right. The solution: Work from the ground, and a butt load of lateral work, ie. shoulder-in, haunches-in, renvers, half-pass, pirouette, to strengthen each and every leg individually AND the back. Shoulder-in was coined as the aspirin of riding by the old masters. If you’re unsure about how to achieve it, check this out:
Everything you need to know about shoulder-in
Along the same lines of asymmetry is our mis-fit saddle(ha-ha), which is too low in the back, too low in the wither and possibly pinching on the right ride because his right shoulder is so much more prominent. Oh, and the tree is most likely collapsing on the left shoulder because the left shoulder is more sloped than the right side, creating a twisting, kick-back effect when he moves which is possibly why we both fall apart on the left hand. For the moment, we’ll have to manage with a Christ pad that we can pad a little in the back and left shoulder without bumping up the right shoulder as well. We’ll see…I see a Special Edition in my future.
I can only hope that with a more comfortable working situation, and more control over his own body, Dundee will change his mind and decide I’m not the devil. Though his opinion will never change if he talks to any of the bitches who hang around the barn all day(eating cake, NOT riding) and have all declared me evil reincarnate, but I’ll get to those super fun anecdotes in Part II.
Oh no, more dressage crap?
I am pleased to announce that I’ve begun writing again. The House Of Thorns sequel now consists of 8 chapters and I now have the first chapter of the new project, which I was calling Regress, but don’t much like the name. I think for now I’ll call it…Apocolyptica.
I feel the urge to begin researching literary agents again, which means Round 3 of querying is just around the corner. Think I’ll take another look at the query letter…I hate query letters with the fiery passion of my soul.
I know you’ve been dying for a riding update, so here it goes. Monday wasn’t my day to ride, but Dundee still worked. Comprende? I was a little terrified that I would have to A) reschool everything that we’d schooled the previous few weeks, and B) try to get Dundee’s back muscles back in working order. I was being a little bit pessimistic, and the tiniest bit dramatic. In fact, other than having to work extra hard to get him off the inside left rein and to stop dropping that inside left shoulder and ducking out of the haunted corner of the arena, Tuesday was quite good. I did warm him up on the lunge line before getting on though. After about 15 minutes on the lunge his back was solid and he didn’t flinch away in the least. It would seem Dundee is cold backed.
Wednesday was absolutely awful. Total regression. He used the underside of his neck and locked his jaw and worked against me for the better part of an hour. Everything that moved in a 5 mile radius around the arena was a distraction, often requiring him to run off. I ended up taking more contact that I am comfortable with and driving him into it. It wasn’t fun or beautiful. We ended on a half decent walk/canter transition. Funnily enough, as soon as I put my kid on him and sent them out on the lunge line he transformed into ‘Dundee: Police Horse’.
Wednesday Dundee had off and I used my alloted ‘riding time’ to research some new approaches to training. I think the problem I’m running into with Dundee is lack of variation. I can only manage to hack out once a week, so 5 days a week we’re stuck in the ring. Lunging gets dull for both of us, and there’s only so many ways to be creative with one jump, one cavaletti and a handful of poles. I’ve tried in-hand work in the past and it was just a mess, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to learn. So a hunting I went for some new ideas. And ideas I found…so many methods and approaches, and most of them conflict! How’s a girl to choose? German or French. Classic, modern or Academy. Am I allowed to take certain aspects of each and combine? Ultimately I would love to learn the Nevzorov way to Haute Ecole, but I can cross that one off the list seeing as a student of the school you are forbidden to ride your horse. They see it as cruel. In many cases it’s true, but always? I’m not sold on that idea.
Anyway, I came across Bent Branderup, who is a pinnacle in the Academic Art of Riding. His work is quite beautiful and well thought out, and all about ‘the horse’ which is a nice change of pace.
Bent Branderup
In the same vein, Philippe Karl has sparked my interest. Actually, I just found out about him. To my understanding, lateral flexion is put before flexion of the poll and he teaches the French way of Légèreté. Obviously there’s more to it than that, but give me a break! I’ve known about it for 2 days.
“The founding principle of the School of Légèreté is the absolute respect of the horse. In this concept, Légèreté (French: lightness) is not a declaration of intent of a poetic or esoteric nature, but a philosophy bringing together clear, effective and measurable equestrian concepts.” – The philosophy of Légèreté
Philippe Karl: Philosophy
Then there is the modern teachers such as Ingrid Klimke and Conrad Schumacher, who are the leaders of the modern sport…
*Que me throwing my hands in the air in confusion.*
I must add though, that after reading and watching as much as humanly possible before ‘my time’ on Friday, I went into the ring with a very basic idea of how to achieve work in-hand according to Branderup’s Academy. And gosh darn it, it worked. I used reins on either side of the lunging cavesson for the ground work and managed shoulder-in, leg yield and volte in the walk, and just began the trot. It’s a tricky thing for Dundee to comprehend, this idea that he can trot as slow as I walk. To my utter astonishment, when I got on after the in-hand work, I had his back right away and he was thoroughly round. So round that sitting trot wasn’t an issue. And colour me fricking amazed, halt transitions were there after a half-halt, he sprang into canter transitions out of a walk, and stretched down into downward transitions, and when I asked for lengthened trot it was like he just uncoiled. It’s led me to think that perhaps this classic approach is perhaps not better, but simpler for Dundee to understand. That or he was just really appreciative that I let him have a day off.
Yesterday I rode out in a storm and he was a prince. So nice to know with winter approaching that I will still be able to work with some consistency rather than battling Dundee’s demons everyday.
Show me your horse, and I’ll tell you what you are
Xenophon
Riding this weekend was three days of trials and tribulations.
Friday I walked into the barn motivated to have a successful ride, but the second I sat in the saddle one of the maintenance workers began fertilizing the apple trees. I didn’t realize that fertilizing was the horse equivalent to target practise at the rifle range. Silly me. Just when I thought the torture was over the fertilizer wielder rolled out the yellow hose, also known as the yellow horse-eating serpent. He proceeded to water the apple trees. (Anyone else notice the theme?) I tried to convince him that unless he was a hell-spawn Hanoverian who hung upside down in his stall during the day and the guy was spraying holy water he shouldn’t be concerned, but he just wouldn’t listen. In fact, he learned a brand new way to escape my aids: extended trot. Thoroughbreds grab the bit and run. Dundee tucks his head into his chest and flies. It was very educational. At the end of 2 hours, and long after the holy water had run out and the serpent had retreated, I finally managed to get him walking through the tainted end of the arena.
Coming into ride on Saturday I had decided that, since I had already felt this amazing extended trot, perhaps it was time we developed it with slightly more control. Like a request to move forward, followed by a calm downward transition rather than slamming on the brakes because he’d seen something else that might have caused bodily harm(such as the plastic fertilizer bag). It was the first day I started carrying a dressage stick while riding. I had feared that my hands weren’t steady enough to carry one, and honestly, I’m not a big fan of whips and spurs. Fascinatingly(good word) my hands were more quiet than normal because the stick made me more conscious of keeping them steady. Not only that, but his gaits really came through. It was one of those rides where you can finally feel how all the hard work has paid off. Light, supple, forward. I think so. And through an exercise I watched Conrad Schumacher work his students through, which consists of a walk pirouette at the end of the arena, blasting off into a strong(but controlled) trot down the long side, to a walk transition and pirouette, then back, I really felt him dropping his hind end and engaging. His self carriage was truly fabulous and I was cloud 9.
Yesterday I went pumped from the great ride the day before and planning to attempt the impossible and start working on sitting trot. Then when I was tacking up and ran my fingers along his spine, as I always do, he sucked away from my fingers! Back pain! Again. After a week of finally be totally sound through the back. At this point I was experiencing a nearly psychotic episode. I suppose we will see what tomorrow brings. It may be back out on the longe line and over cavaletti for Dundee.
I got some interesting information yesterday as well. This past week I’ve thought a lot about how it might be a good idea to start working with a second horse. If I really plan to train hard enough to work through the levels in a couple of years, I need as much time in the saddle as possible. The problem is that Dundee hasn’t had serious, consistent work for quite a few years, and it takes such a big horse a long time to get up to a fitness level where he can work hard everyday, for over an hour. Amazingly enough, by the end of our rides, he is more exhausted than I am. Yesterday I discovered that the horse I’ve had my eye on since my first day at this barn is for sale – for 1000 euro including all his tack. Now, I can’t very well afford to buy my own horse right now, even if she gave him to me monthly fees would be tricky(read: impossible). BUT maybe she’ll be willing to work something out…just an idea.
Click
This one is going to be another mish-mash, with a large focus on pony woes – except instead of bitching, this time I’ve had a break through. Three cheers for muscle memory!
I would like to mention that I’ve started reading Torment, and so far it’s as good as I anticipated.
Walking through the city yesterday I met one of those bat-shit crazy Germans. You know, the ones with glasses like bloody magnifying glasses, wiry grey hair pulled up in a wild chignon, pushing a stolen shopping cart(back to the grocery store so she can go shopping, by the way). I was in a pleasant mood, walking with Darby and my youngest to the bus station so we could ride. Then along comes Miss fucking Daisy. Her eyes dart back and forth between me, Seline and the dog(I could see this – no doubt from across the street-because of her gigantic bug glasses). Her look of disgust deepens. She passes me, turns around and calls me crazy. I mean, I have my moments, but it’s a little like the pot calling the kettle black. Or a more orignal analogy. She goes onto to say that I am a terrible mother for having such a large dog – no, not dog. She used the word köter, which is usually followed by a curse, so I’ve always gotten the impression it’s negative. I laughed(even though comments like this coming from stuffy, unfriendly people who are likely to poison your dog when your back is turned make me see red) and instead of telling her to shut the fuck up and drop dead, I simply said ‘you’re not all there, are you?’
She stormed off with her shopping cart and I went and had a great ride, with my faithful beast at my side.
As for my break through…it would appear my inside left leg has remembered it’s purpose(bend the horse!). My outside hand is quite a bit steadier, and my inside hand is actually responding when I tell it to soften the horse to the inside. It’s so fabulous when your own body obeys you. My friend said she had similar problems in the past and then one day there was a click and everything fell into place. Something finally clicked. I’ve been watching a lot of old USDF National symposiums and I have to say that I think it’s helped a lot. It’s given me new perspectives on how to ride and new exercises to get things working a little smoother. It’s also great for visualization. For example, I keep seeing dressage riders with nice, quiet seats who sit UP. I visualize myself sitting up, instead of constantly tipping forward, and ta-da. Sitting up, legs more effective, horse off the forehand. I even felt his back come up yesterday. He got a whole bucket of carrots and apples after that.
Just to get an idea of how it looked last weekend…(and this is one of the better pictures)
I know, I know…he’s behind the vertical and not stepping through . More leg, less inside hand. Oh, and sit the hell up! Next weekend’s pictures will look much different :S
In the spirit of updates
Always the pessimist, in my last post I was moaning about how I wasn’t going to have the opportunity to ride this weekend. Minutes after I hit publish I had a text conversation that made my night. I was in the clear to ride all weekend. Last night we hacked out. It was the first time I took old Darby out with me on a hack in years…he’s a little stiff this morning. Today is bright and warm, with very little wind. Where Dundee is concerned, wind is not my friend. I’m trying to think of an interesting way to use the two jump standards, two cavaletti ends and 9 poles available to me…I have jumping fever. It’s almost a good thing that there’s not more jumps available, not to mention no room in the tack locker for the jumping saddle.
Much to my displeasure, Torment hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve got high hopes for tomorrow morning though. Come on, DHL!
Hush, Hush fans: Less than 2 weeks until the CRESCENDO release!
So I’m on MySpace now, but I’m not really sure why. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I’m wondering if there’s much point…at the moment Danielle’sSpace is a waste of cyber space.
Yesterday I found myself brainstorming for that new book that I wrote the first chapter for. It’s a more flexible plot outline than the original, and a hell of a lot more organized. This is good.
Here we go again
Yes, yes. I know. I’ve finally posted the review for FALLEN that you’ve all been going mad to review and are ‘falling’ into a frenzy to read. I’ve ordered Torment already and expect it tomorrow(if it’s not DHL will have hell to pay). I can’t wait to read it!!! I read the end of Fallen again last night, I love it that much.
So riding…No apologies. In fact, expect more posts along these lines in the future. I think I was complaining in my last riding-related post that I was have something difficulties on the left rein(difficulties meaning that I couldn’t get him flexing, or TURNING, to the left, or get him to stop running into the ground). I realized the source of my problems: a reluctant inside leg. Oh, I basically threw away my outside rein and hung onto the inside rein(a cardinal sin in dressage). Once I made a conscious effort to ride inside leg into outside hand, maintain steady contact with the outside rein and GIVE with the inside rein, things started looking a little less…catastrophic. I have to thank Ingrid Klimke, who is absolutely amazing by the way, for her advice. She gave a series of lessons at the 2006 USDF Symposium posted on youtube, which demonstrate excellent riding technique and fantastic cavaletti excercises that I have already begun implementing. (What? Were you thinking I was possibly the only person in the world to have a virtual lesson with Ingrid Klimke? Yeah, not quite.) Yesterday I even had a very successful ride. I set up my trot cavaletti and a cross pole gymnastic. I spent the first 10 minutes developing a nice swinging walk(which is apparently the only gait that can’t be correct(only ruined)). The next 10 minutes were spent long and low. There was a lot of bending, transitions, and encouraging Dundee to ‘chew the bit out of my hands’. And then I picked up the reins and asked him to work. And he, for the most part(he thought the guy digging a ditch ext to the arena was occasionally trying to kill him with his shovel), he obliged. The cavaletti were a big hit(not literally-for such a putz, Dundee is quite careful with his feet). But he was stretching down and picking up his hocks. Canter on the left rein was nice, not as nice as the right rein, but with at least some measure of control and balance this time. Then came the mighty cross pole. It was about 2′ high, but Dundee jumped it like a 4′ oxer. And I was riding in a dressage saddle. It was…interesting. Over the course of the ride we managed to get the air time down to about a 3′ vertical. Dundee likes to jump. As do I. But I’d forgotten how much. I will never be able to describe the incredible feeling of being pressed up against a horses neck as you’re suspended in the air. It’s freedom. So that ride was really great. A ride to build from. Of course that won’t be happening this weekend. It sucks not to have you’re own horse I mean, it’s not like I can tell an owner ‘No, sorry. You can’t ride today-I need to ride so that I can reassure myself that I still can(ride on the left rein). I also have some saddle-fit concerns…I’ve been summing up Dundee’s sore back muscles to the sudden work load, but after three weeks, it should have receded. Yet still, he sucks away from the hard brush. Luckily my best friend is a saddle fitter and I can take some pictures and see what she thinks(she charges too much for a saddle fit analysis, considering I would also be paying for her flight out here). My life would be complete if I had no choice but to ride in a Sommer Special Edition dressage saddle. If you’ve missed the pics of this amazing saddle on previous posts, check it out here:
Want to see the very helpful symposium videos as well? Sure you do! (This is the first of a 5 or so part series)
I watched Wolfman the other night. Or THE Wolfman? I don’t know. Who cares. It was really good. He was a sexy werewolf. Then of course the girl shot him. Not a really happy ending.
Another Finnish metal band…Charon. Love ‘em to death. Ha ha ha.
The Storyteller’s weekend
I had the opportunity to catch up with one of my most favourite people in the world this weekend. It was probably two years ago that we had the chance to get together last. (I hope it isn’t a pattern!) I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone feed me riddles and actually make me think-in English-during a conversation. It’s not like I don’t have conversations regularly, but I find that because the conversations are generally in German, all my effort is put into translating. I’m just happy to follow along the conversation and insert an answer where appropriate.
It’s terrible. A tragedy. To waste my clever wit is a sin.
*Que the dramatic piano music and wailing mourners.
Long live sarcasm.
Anyway, we met up in Essen and due to unfortunate timing, I was there considerably early. There were lots of interesting people around. Three monks doing Tai-Chi. A skater who propped his skateboard up against a piano standing in the middle of the walkway and sat down and played like he was born to do it. A guy standing in another walkway reading a passage from a Fantasy novel aloud. He had a sign out in front of him. He was The Storyteller. I really wish I’d had a camera with me. Of all the days to forget it…Of course when the aforementioned friend arrived all of these people were either gone or resting so he couldn’t understand the hilarity of it all. I think he’s still convinced The Storyteller is one of my alter egos and I just won’t admit to reading aloud in the streets of Essen.
This weekend the owner of the pony we’ve been leasing went on summer holidays so we were there to clean the stall and what not. The kids wanted to ride, so I went out to get the pony from the field across the street. I hate it when the horses are over there because the street is so busy and people drive to fast. We finally get over and catch the pony, and I’ve got Seline on my hip so she can’t get trampled and what have you. The pony decides she doesn’t want to come, turns and nails me in the upper thigh. Seline learned a new word. I decided I hate ponies- especially Fjords!
Finally got her to the gate and Seline, who I had finally put down, ran past me, through the other gate to the street and promptly fell in the ditch. She was screaming, I was panicking thinking that just when she was lucky enough to miss out on a swift kick to the head, she was going to drown in a ditch. Got her out – thank god it hadn’t rained much and she was just muddy. Yeah, well, tell a two-year old that. Screaming bloody murder took on a new definition.
Back at the barn, Seline was in new pants, the pony tied up to be groomed. I was already watching the cranky pony carefully, my trust in her a little shaken. I pick out her feet and what does she do? Cow kicks me, catching me in the other knee.
I was…enraged. Images of sausage ran through my mind.
Pony went back in the field. We went home. There will be no more Fjords in our lives.
It’s not the first time I’ve been bruised or broken by a horse or pony. In fact, a saner people may wonder why we(horse people, in general) persist despite the endless injury and premature aches and pains. But honestly, if we have to explain it, you won’t understand.
I am digging Being Human. Apparently an American remake is being made, but honestly, why? It will lack a certain spark, I’m sure, when the story is set in the States rather than Bristol, and when the characters don’t have any charming accents. Come on, admit it. Everyone, Canadians and Americans alike, love a good accent.
