Definition of insanity

I keep doing the same thing, expecting a different result.  I'm insane.  In this case I'm saddle shopping and I keep thinking it's going to go smoothly.  HA.

After my struggles with Smartpak and coming to the realization that my hard to fit horse needed more models to pick from, I branched out and started looking at other dealers of western saddles.  I stumbled onto horsesaddleshop.com.  Since I'm specifically looking at Circle Y saddles, they're an obvious pick since they have hundreds of saddles.  And a ten day demo program!

They also have an option to email back and forth with a non-brand specific saddle person to help you pick out a saddle.  Their reviews are excellent and I found their expert to be very responsive.

This beauty is ordered and on it's way to me.

We're going to try a wide and see if that works for mi papi's shoulders.  He's a tricky fit with his beastly shoulders and high withers, so fingers crossed.  If it doesn't?  Back into the mail and we send out the gaited version that may better suit his short back, giganto shoulders, and high withers.  The nice part is that they have all of these models in stock and ready to go.  The expert thinks this saddle with a cut back pad has a good chance of working for him.  I think it's pretty, that's all I've got for a contribution.

Since it looks like my transmission survived the incident and I only need the cooler replaced, I still get to buy pretty things.  I really need a source of motivation now that the snow is starting to fly.  Buying tack = motivation, right?

And I get to buy a matching bridle!  And colorful saddle pads!  And a breast collar!  I don't need a breast collar but come on, if I'm going to dress him up, I might as well go all the way.  My outfit is still a complete mystery to me.  Helmet, obviously, but the rest?  I dunno.  There's a lot of spandex and rhinestones out there and I'm . . . not as svelte as I used to be.  Hm.

Cuz your man is back in town

Aside from all of the drama with my truck and going by my lonesome to a rather high end clinic, I had one important take away:

My horse is the freaking bomb and he is back, baby!

Seriously, he's back and it's wonderful.  He was a model citizen for his visit.  He may have tried to escape every time someone tried to feed him/water him/clean his stall, but that's expected when he's suddenly thrown in a stall for three days.  He was a little ticked off about the whole imprisonment part of the trip.  So much hand walking and hand grazing to keep him from tearing the tent stall down.  He would sit with his muzzle between the bars, trying to convince people to come rescue him.

But he stood when told, only had little spooks in a rather spooky indoor with an audience and a heated observation room over his head.  He stood in grooming stalls, completely ignored a stranger climbing up on a mounting block to rearrange me, and napped whenever appropriate.  Young horses pinging off the walls, warmbloods losing their minds in the cold and needing to be lunged, and then there was mi papi.  Snoring.  He cuddled anyone that came into reach and built up his own fan club.

I worked on me almost exclusively because Theo was already in good shape.  He likes to pop his shoulders, but I already knew that.  It's something we've already been working on.  He went about his business and I worried about my quarreling seat bones and wandering chin.  Mary had absolutely nothing negative to say about him and said she was impressed to see a horse of his type showing such nice energy.  Then she pet his neck and said 'she must be terribly cruel'.  Theo says yes.

I was complimented that I didn't have to kick him and that it looked easy and flowing.  He did some lovely strike offs from walk to canter and showed off his starter turn on the haunches.  He looked, acted, and moved like a confirmed First level horse that's schooling Second with some confidence.  He stayed on the contact and, for one glorious moment, we had an actual honest to goodness connection with him seeking and me feeling like I could push my hands instead of pulling while trotting around with his back lifted. 

It lasted about 90 seconds, but it was fucking amazing.

Of course I have zero media, but I could see him in the mirrors and I heard from the other riders.  Theo was calm, correct, and downright zen.  Two people thought I was a trainer.  No, not in a long time, but thank you for the compliment.  He only kicked out once and that was on Sunday when he was tired from using new muscles.  But oh, what a stretch he gave me at the end of that ride.  Muzzle to the floor, back flexing, flicking along in the trot like it was nothing. 

I'll admit to a bit of vindication when Theo was such a super star when he was, far and away, the cheapest horse in attendance.  His fuzzy legs, fuzzy ears, and pony style forelock looked very out of place, but once he was going, no one questioned him.

I guess I'll keep him.  At least for another week.

Mary Wanless Clinic: Day 3

Sunday morning was an early start.  I needed to get to the barn so I could try to arrange for an earlier ride time and get my truck towed to the shop.  I cleared all of my stuff out of the truck and loaded it into my trailer.  Then I got mi papi out for his morning hand walk so they could clean his stall in peace.  Apparently he was trying to escape when they came to clean his stall. 

I'm out handwalking and spot a big flat bed pull into the driveway of the house the barn owner lives in.  Whoops, wrong driveway, but a common mistake.  I see the driver looking around and I put my hand up.  I meant to signal I was on my way over.  He took it as 'hey, come over here'.  There's no route for a truck to come over.  It's their outdoor ring, a wide path for horses and wheelbarrows, and then their beautiful barn.  The driver took the wide path without batting an eyelash.  He barely had inches between his truck, the barn, and the railing of the outdoor.  One of the barn managers was standing there, staring in horror. 

At this point, I was so overwrought that it barely registered.  Of course the tow truck is driving through the middle of the very fancy barn where I will never be invited back.  I pointed out where my truck was and he hustled right off to load it up.

I'm standing out there watching my truck get loaded on a flat bed when I get told that no one will trade ride times with me.  I was the last ride of the day and my emergency pick up didn't want to wait until 5:30pm to pick me up because he still had to haul me home and he gets up insanely early on Monday mornings.  How could I ask him to lose sleep on top of driving down to pick me up as a favor?  I gave up, told him to pick me up after lunch, told the organizers I wouldn't be riding, and hid in the observation room while crying.  Because really, talk about a waste of a clinic.  And it's not a cheap clinic.

One of the organizers found me, freaked out, and tried to make it better.  They offered for Theo to stay an extra night.  Which really didn't help because my ride works on Mondays and that would mean Theo spending another day in a stall.  What if I had a shipper move him on Monday?  I don't know any shippers and I'd have to do it all on the phone from a distance which is terrifying.  Okay, maybe a friend could pick him up on Monday and I could just leave my trailer with them until my truck was repaired?  They're not used to working with people that aren't independently wealthy, I guess.  Yes, I have to go home and go to work in the morning, it's important.  And even if Theo stayed the night, I still need a ride home.

She eventually got someone to trade ride times with me and while it was still going to be late for my ride, it wasn't bad.  I had my trailer completely packed and the plan was for Theo to carry his tack to the trailer after his ride so we could leave right away.

After that kind of a morning, I zoned on the couch and tried to convince myself not to get a migraine.  It mostly worked and I was able to mount up in a generally acceptable frame of mind.  I'm glad I was able to get that last ride in since we were really trying to dial in the combination of keeping my zipper and chin over the middle with both seat bones sharing the back.  Because once I have both of those things?  I'm not collapsing to the left.  It's a correction I can manage on my own.  It's very hard right now, both of my hips were screaming after my ride, but it's a missing piece that's plugging in.  Canter left my right seat bone was off doing it's own thing.  I have to kind of aim it at his left shoulder to keep me in the center.  Then I drop my right shoulder a bit to keep my zipper and chin over his spine and pop, I'm in the middle.  Our canter felt much more organized without me ping ponging around up there.  I felt more plugged in, which was lovely when he decided to spook at a falling broom in the corner.  Theo relaxed and gave me more of his back once I was settled in.

We also started working on how to inflate the right side of Theo's back so that he's more even.  While keeping my seat bones close to his spine, I have to draw more of his barrel to the right.  Like there's a suction cup on the inside of my thigh and I can kind of pull him over with my leg.  It's tricky, I don't have it, but it's a concept for me to play with over the winter.

And then I bolted out of the arena, threw my horse on the trailer, and got hauled home.

I just got the message that my truck blew it's transmission cooler.  $1,600.  Then they can drive it and see if the transmission is okay.  Plus $400 for the tow, but at least that's reimbursable through my insurance.  All I can do is cross my fingers and hope that the actual transmission is okay and we don't have to pay for a new one.

On the bright side, Theo is home and safe.  The trailer is safe and at the barn.  The truck is in the hands of a shop that I trust to not screw me over.  I'm at work, at my desk, safe and sound.  I have lots of sore muscles and some new concepts to work on.  So it certainly wasn't the worst possible weekend.  I didn't end up on the side of the road with a dead truck or anything.  It also wasn't the best weekend.  I did feel like I missed out because I didn't get to watch as many rides, I didn't get to go out to dinner with everyone, and generally was stressed out.

Going to a clinic like this by myself was challenging.  Everyone else had an entourage to take pictures, carry things, be supportive.  I was totally on my own and that seemed to weird people out.  I got a lot of compliments on my nice horse, my riding skill, etc., but I was definitely the odd one.  Also the poor one that had a backyard horse.  Not an easy weekend, even without the truck problems.  I'll have to think long and hard about whether or not I'll try to go next year.  While the progress is great, it's expensive and being completely on my own took a lot of the fun out of it.

Mary Wanless Clinic: Day 2

Trailering isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Saturday morning I got a lesson on how quickly complete freedom can become complete panic.

I headed out of my hotel this morning thinking about managing mi papi and life in a stall.  I was worried about him overheating since I blanketed him so aggressively (a Baker blanket and a medium weight turn out with a neck rug). 

 
By my second stop sign, I was only thinking about how I would get him home.  My transmission wasn't acting right and slipped twice when I was at stop signs.  My 'service engine soon' light came on.  What the hell?

I completed the twenty minute drive to the farm and called the hubby.  I also texted Trainer A and told her to alert her dad as he was the only person I knew that could haul a goose neck.  If my transmission is slipping, I'm not going to try to haul my most precious cargo.  It was scary enough trying to get around without the trailer.

Fun fact, Trainer A's dad runs a GMC repair shop.  I own a GMC truck.  A couple of texts and I was told to check my transmission fluid.  Yup, it's low.  I located an auto parts store and headed out after the lunch lecture (and a long hand walk/hand graze for my horse that's convinced he's in jail).  At the auto parts store, it occurs to me that I can get my error codes printed.  This is what I get.

That's freaking terrifying.  I went back to the farm with two quarts of transmission fluid and a funnel.  I added a quart, but something was bothering me. The hubby is good at truck maintenance.  Why was my fluid low?  I climbed under the truck and saw this.

Mother fucker piece of shit.  I've got a leak.  And guess what I learned when I sent the picture to Trainer A's dad?  Transmission fluid is highly combustible.  Like diesel levels of combustible.  So not only did I run the risk of my transmission acting up, there was the chance of it igniting on a hot engine.

I called in the rescue crew and arranged for being picked up.  Fortunately I'm only 1.5 hours away from home.  A tow truck was arranged for my truck and another truck arranged to bring my trailer and my precious cargo home.

Oh, right, I'm at a clinic with my horse.  As my hubby said multiple times, I need to get something out of this weekend.  And my session with Mary yielded the usual plethora of observations.

I need to weight my seat bones 50/50.  That's much harder to do when my horse isn't 50/50.  Theo tends to have his right side more stretched out, extended, and not tight.  I need to make his right side as high and tight as his left side.  I shouldn't feel like my right side is just falling off the right side of his back.  If it is, I need to make his right side tighter and higher to support my seat bones as I pull them in to his center.  He likes to bait me, lure me to be less effective.  Also, my seat bones don't like to share.  When my left seat bone comes in to his spine, my right seat bone gets shoved off.  It's like managing temperamental twins.  Share already, damn it!

We refined my feel for a narrowed pelvis.  It's not a minor task and will take me awhile.  I'm taking notes to bring back to Trainer A.  Theo likes to turn like a semi and jack knife at his withers.  He doesn't like it when I straighten him out and tell him to turn like a bus.  As much as he doesn't like it, it's been very good for getting him even behind.  I'm also being told that I've started to drop behind and I need to advance my collar bone.  That's going to be interesting since Trainer A has been yelling at me for leaning forward.

So I trotted around, trying to keep my seat bones together, keep his back as a wide, even shelf, and turn him like a bus.  This will all be important because when I asked him to leg yield to get him off my leg, I immediately felt myself fall off the side of the saddle.  Ah ha!  We may have a clue on where my leg yield troubles start.

And then I limped my poor truck to the hotel, parked myself at the bar, and poured out my sorrows to a very patient lady.

 
Stay tuned to hear the final installment of As The Transmission (Doesn't) Turns.

Mary Wanless Clinic: Day 1

Despite my worries, I arrived at my clinic all of fifteen minutes behind schedule and with a full seven hours of sleep.  The hubby was done with his distillery showcase a little earlier than planned and I was able to get my own packing done before heading to bed.  By 8:45am, Theo and I hit the road.

I'm kind of glad I was running a bit late.  This was my first foray into Massachusetts with the trailer and the jaunt down 95 is no joke.  Especially not where there's construction and I had a bare few inches between my trailer and the concrete barricades.  YIKES.  The term Massholes is very appropriate for the drivers and Theo had a few less than ideal moments in his ride when I had to hit the brakes to avoid idiots whipping across three lanes of traffic (in a construction zone) to make their exit.  I'm so glad I did my trailer training in New Hampshire.  The interstates in Massachusetts are terrifying in a passenger car.  With a horse trailer?  I totally ordered a margarita at my hotel.

The clinic is a bit bigger this year.  More auditors, more people trailering in.  The parking is a bit nuts and I got some good practice backing in with the trailer.  I didn't manage to get into my assigned spot, but the lady I blocked in is also here until Sunday so it's all set.  We know each other, it's fine.  At least I turned around without help. 

The cold weather and high winds put a little extra pep into Theo's step.  He's in a tent stall this year and he spent about an hour figuring out that he wasn't going to die.  I'm glad I packed his turn out since he's not actually in a barn and it's down to 16* tonight with a wind chill.  His beautiful new Baker blanket is under his medium weight turn out with a neck rug.  Not that he minds, he has a beautiful young mare as his neighbor (he moved his hay to that side of his stall) and all the food he can stuff in his face.

For my ride, Mary remembered him once I said he was half Canadian.  She commented that he was much better at going forward than she remembered and complimented me on my insistence on him being correct.  He was also a very good doobie in the contact, keeping his neck long and his moments of resistance to a minimum.  I was genuinely proud to unleash his new trot in that fancy indoor ring, showing his progress.  Unfortunately, this means that all eyes were on the rider.  Clearly the horse was fine.

I came in with the goal of addressing my collapsed left side.  I've been riding like that for so long that I think I'm straight.  I'm not, so that means I don't know where the center is.  We started out with a check of my current status and I got another compliment for hanging on to what she'd asked me to do two years ago and sends her compliments to Trainer A for helping me hang on to the right things.  Woohoo, not having to start over!

When we started to address my asymmetry, my weight on my seat bones popped right to the front.  I tend to weight my right seat bone, but I'll ping pong around from side to side when turning.  That's incorrect, of course.  So she flagged me over and apologized because things were about to get crude.  I need to stay balanced and symmetrical over his spine.  Okay, yes, that makes sense.  The human pelvis tends to be rather wide and because of it's structure, kind of flops on either side.  I need to tighten up my pelvis, almost make it more narrow so it can stay tight and balanced over his spine.

I need to pull my asshole up into my buttcrack.

Yeah, that's a direct quote.  Followed by a discussion on whether a zipper, sutures, or super glue would be the best visual for me to think about tightening up my pelvis.  Theo voted for super glue.  No, seriously, she suggested super glue and he turned his head around and touched her arm.  So I'm . . . supergluing my butt cheeks together to keep from letting my asshole drop down and my pelvis get wide.

It's a strange, funny way of describing positive tension in the rider.  I'm taking control of my pelvis and putting my seat bones in the right place so they don't ping pong around and keep me off balance.  But suggesting that I should superglue my butt cheeks together is much funnier.

Tomorrow we'll start addressing the fact that I don't know where center is anymore with my upper body.  I can tell when I'm ping ponging in the seat and correct it.  I can't tell if I'm straight or not, and that's a problem.  I can't correct if I don't know where center is.  Mary said she has a plan, that she knows how to show me where center is, so I'm confident that I'll have new descriptors and exercises after tomorrow to take home.

Tonight I'm chilling in my hotel room, thawing out with the thermostat turned way up and recharging for tomorrow's adventure.

The art of procrastination

I travel with my horse a lot.  It's something I do.  Clinics, camps, shows, I'm totally comfortable packing up and heading out with my equine partner.

Keeping that in mind, it is a damn wonder I get anywhere with appropriate gear.  I am the queen of procrastination and this time I might have taken it a bit too far.  I leave tomorrow morning for a three day clinic with a big name clinician at a very fancy barn.

 Said fancy barn with the infamous Dorkzilla

Have I packed?  Not a damn thing.  When I left for work this morning, my truck and trailer weren't even facing the right way.  I hope the hubby has got them turned around.  I'm supposed to be there at 10am, so I need to leave the barn around 8:30am.  So far this is all pretty standard.  I pack up the night before, show up, throw the horse on the trailer, and go on my merry way.

Two things have derailed me.  One, Mother Nature is off her meds and the temps are plunging tonight.  We're getting down to 15* this weekend.  This necessitates some extra packing to keep mi papi warm, even if he's in a stall all weekend.  I had a mad scramble last night busting out the full winter gear, including his square cooler to go with the fleece dress sheet I was planning on packing.

Two, I apparently have plans tonight.  A couple months ago I agreed to go to a distillery showcase for the hubby's birthday.  There will be lots of fancy food and spirits and we'll be out until about 11pm.  I need to leave the barn at 8:30am.  I have not packed.  At least I'm the designated driver so I won't be hungover while trying to load Theo into his trailer.

If you're doing the math and coming up with the same numbers as me, you can see where I'm starting to regret some of my life decisions.

 And judging by my artwork, this is an ongoing situation.  I'm a very slow learner.  I am expecting to get up around 6am, throw everything horse related that I own onto my trailer, and sort it out once I'm there.  At least I don't ride until 4pm so if I'm running a bit late, I'll just miss lunch lecture stuff.  I really don't want to miss anything, but it's better than having the 9am ride time.  Though I'll be wishing for that ride time on Sunday when it's time to ship home.

Fingers are crossed I get there on time with a saddle, a girth, a bridle, AND a helmet.  Anything more than that is a nice bonus.

Saddle shopping hell, trip 3

I do NOT know why I thought shopping for a western saddle would be easier than my dressage or jump saddles.  At least my horse is shaped like a dressage horse and isn't freaky looking at a jump show.  When I took Theo to his Vitor clinic, it was at a working cow ranch.  Everyone thought Theo was gigantic.  Everyone.  That should have been an indicator to me that he's not the typical western disciplines type.

He doesn't exactly look like a QH or a Paint.

Still cute.

It seemed simpler since there was just the two options:  semi or QH bars.  And clearly, with those withers, he needs a semi-QH bars tree.  Clearly.  Easy peasy.

So my saddle showed up and I, with great excitement, tacked my poor dressage horse up.  And realized I still can't tie a cinch to save my life.  Fortunately someone that knows western tack was there to help me check fit and help me get my tack on safely.  With her help, I was able to get things cinched up and hop on for a few minutes.  I'd already ridden him in a lesson, so it was strictly a test ride.  No need for a bridle.  We jogged and loped around with just a lead rope to let me steer.

The saddle fit me well and fit his back well, but was too tight on his shoulders.  I put my fingers under the front edge of the saddle and got a rather painful squeeze.  Damn it.  Such a pretty saddle, but no dice for the magnificence that is mi papi.  Back it goes to Smartpak.

I'm going to order up this saddle's very close sibling that comes in a round skirt since the saddle looks big on Theo's short back.  I'm also going to try a wide to see if we can give his shoulders some room without dropping the pommel right on his withers.  If that doesn't work, I have to start branching out.  There's a gaited version of the tree with extra room in the shoulders . . .

I hate saddle shopping.