Subsequent to 1/21 Post

Well, I was right about a lot of things with yesterdays appointment with ATT, with a couple exceptions.  Probably the most annoying was the un-appearance of the "guy" at 4.  Nope, not here, not at 4:05, 4:10 or 4:15.  In fact it was nearly 5 before he darkened my doorstep.  Disgruntled is a good word to use here.  Disgruntled and bad tempered.  Happily the "guy" was pretty funny and so quite handily disarmed my ill humor and we laughed and carried on and bad mouthed ATT and the stupid tests he has to perform that take a lot of time and generally come to the ultimate conclusion that the DVR is ...wait for it...DOA.  Might as well just continue to use ANAGRAMS at this point.  Anyway while he waited for the little computer stupid test thingy  to analyze, diagram, assess and diagnose the DVR box to come, roughly 30 minutes later, to the conclusion that it was broken, he had time to go out to the truck to get the dreaded new box.  At least he had one in his truck.   And just to let you know, we did lose all the stuff we had recorded, but due to semi good technology, Big Brother, I mean ATT knows what shows we record and will quite happily continue to record all our favorites.  We'll  enjoy everything from A-Listers New York to Two Fat Ladies and all in between for some time to come.  I feel like I did after that cleansing breath in Lamaze class.  My world is centered.

Note the beautiful surroundings.

So the son in law who keeps popping up in these posts has reared his ever loving head again and announced I would be living in a yurt in my dotage.  A yurt in the foothills, where it gets real cold in the winter, well cold for me anyway.  My blood, such as it is, is thin.  So he proposes a yurt.  You should google yurt and when you see the picture of the structure made of skinny twigs with a mud floor and a canvas shroud you will understand what Josh means to have me live in  while I wait out my golden years...What...a sweetheart.  He has indicated that as it is just the spouse, presumably, and I, we won't be needing any real bedrooms as our "bed" aka the floor will suffice with a little padding. As we also are meant to live "off the grid", evidently I will have to power my...yurt from a bicycle to generate electricity or some damn thing.  Then too is the opportunity to purify my own water from a stagnant swamp or collect it in musty barrels from rain water.  What I'm supposed to do in the case of a drought is any body's guess.  Perhaps I join the hoards of So Californians and buy water from some sort of water magnate.  How's this sounding to you so far?  All I can say is it is slightly better than the other son in laws solution which is his basement.  It's wet down there and they've boarded up all the windows so there is no light.  They do store their wine down there so it does have an upside.  The third son in law has wisely not offered to take me/us at all.

Woe is me.  I'm thinking here that living well is not exactly the best revenge.

We took the grandchildren who can talk but not talk back to the movies a week ago.  Now you probably gleaned from the Christmas issue (Christmas issue you say?  Guess you'd best be steppin' back in my blog posting world to read that gem) I have girl children. Steve has a girl child.  Every time a girl child had to go potty do you think it was the boy husband who took them?  Uh. No.  So imagine my absolute joy when little Jack, God love him, announced to the audience in the middle of "Tangled" that he had to go.  I smiled sweetly and reminded Steve that he too is a boy and therefore he could take the little tyke to the toilet.  Good things happen to those who wait.  Small victories and all that.

Tomorrow I visit the acupuncturist.  The acupuncturist at Kaiser no less.  Well this should be pretty good.  I have a pretty good story about Kaiser from when I shredded my ACL and surrounding bits last spring.  I think my recollection of that beauty should be saved for an entire posting of its own.  But this Kaiser acupuncture could be either really good or horribly bad.  Let me get this part straight.  I love acupuncture.  I think it is weird, it does not hurt and it works.  I actually had an old Chinese guy give me my first acupuncture treatments back in my other life.  He had this little room set up in his house on the freeway and had the requisite incense and all the groovy Asian things going on.  He also spoke absolutely no English except the part about Thirty-five dollar.  He was amazing.  I think.  At any rate he enhanced the treatment by hooking his needles to something akin to a car battery and my limbs proceeded to jump madly about until he came back in and adjusted the current.  I didn't think that was really so groovy.  I also don't remember what I was treating but with the myriad of real and imagined ailments I have had it could have been just about anything.  Or maybe one of those charges did some brain scrambling.  What an excellent excuse.  Tomorrow's visit is for chronic whiplash.  If you ride you have chronic whiplash and a screwed up back.  It just has to be that way.  So if you read this blog again in the future, I will regale you with the adventures I had with Kaiser in 2010 and now my new adventure which begins tomorrow for 2011.

Happy Trails,
Cheers,
Squidgy

Yesterday the DVR box that rules my world took a death spiral, and refused life support. It sits there in the living room, attached to the TV which has the giant red X of death on the screen.  That is to say we had to go an entire evening without Recorded Television.  Gads.  I considered wallowing in blackest depression, sitting on the couch, sucking my thumb with the lights out and refusing to speak.  That, however, seemed boring.  But in reality what were the spouse and I going to do without the comfort of knowing we still had 58 episodes of Cash Cab and 74 episodes of Curb Appeal to watch and in all likelihood they would be gone, gone, gone?  All I can say is I'm grateful this is not a three day weekend for Steve, because the ennui and moaning would be far to much to bear if he can't watch his favorite episodes of Swamp Loggers and Dirty Jobs.  I mean really...

To be honest I have recorded TV shows (for my own use FBI, I'm not sharing or selling...) since the advent of the VCR.  When the kids were little and the then spouse made me take a menial job at the Great City of Davis to support my horse habit, I would tape the soaps.  Then after dinner the entire family would sit around and watch the travails of Beau and Hope and the entire Horton Clan.  I really hated it when something the networks considered an event newsworthier than yesterdays cliff hanger intercepted the daily devotional.  Life was simpler then.  But there you are.

So here I sit today.  Being held hostage by the vague appointment set sometime between 12-4 when the possibility that a technician will arrive from ATT and fix the DVR.  As Steve helpfully pointed out, "They're just going to swap it out you know.  They wouldn't trust any of their guys to actually try to fix it..."  Cruel?...yes.   Accurate?...also yes.  Heavy sigh.  So here's what's going to happen.  The guy will actually show up.  At 4.  Then he'll futz around, moan about the overtime, moan about working 6 days a week, for no money to speak of, though he will speak of it and tell me that whoever hooked up the DVR, DVD and TV didn't have any idea what he was doing and proceed to moan about that for awhile.  Then he will tell me the DVR can't be fixed and assure me that a new one will find its way to my doorstep in a week or so and have a good time trying to figure out how to hook it up, because the box we currently have is obsolete and they haven't used it since the bi-centennial, even though it was just installed in August so a different one will  come my way with different verbiage as to what wire goes where and like that.  And oh yeah, have a nice day.  This is not my first rodeo, I know how things work.

Just because I feel like whining I also have to tell you that before the DVR died, taking the TV with it, I watched the final episode of 24 yesterday.  I feel like I've been watching it for centuries, and to be honest to watch 8 years worth of a TV show took me better than six months and now I am bereft.  I will probably have to cancel my Netflix subscription.  I've already watched all the Dexter years, tried to watch Big Love and I'm pretty sure I've seen all the Criminal Minds and NCIS episodes available.  So now what?  The first one of you who tells me to try getting a life?  Well just know that I know I need a life, if I didn't need a life would I be writing this drivel?  Well probably, but that's not the point.  I don't know what the point is either...so there.  wow such anger.

Happy wedding to Erin.  I wish I was in Hawaii watching you stroll down the aisle.  Or even just being in Hawaii right now would be nice, Mai Tai's and sunshine.  Yep.

Before I close, I have had 505 hits on the readership clicker thingy, thanks for that.  Also, after much badgering, two of ya'll posted comments.  Thanks for that too.  I know you won't be able to rest till I confirm the ATT appointment goes as I anticipate, but I will have to let you know later about that.  Take Tums and a nice Xanax.  It will help.

Cheers,
Squidgy

ps. the photo is from New Years Eve.  I don't know what happened to Josh's eyes.  They refused Red Eye Removal.  Look how forced everyone looks trying to pretend they don't mind having the old people crash an otherwise fun evening...

Happy New Year...What?

The spouse and I managed, somehow, to be awake on the stroke of midnight and thusly can state we celebrated with the best of them.  Amazing.  I forced the children and their collective spouses to let Steve and I barge in on dinner with them at the Buckhorn in Winters where we feasted on Vodka and red meat.  You may recall that red meat and alcohol are part of my happiness regime.  But never mind. So yeah, we crashed the party and left early.  The children went back to Woodland and had a proper see in of the new year en masse with clinking of glasses and what not.  I was curled up with my new Kindle and the spouse too was engrossed in suspicious You Tube Videos and we listened to NPR babble on about something or other.  At 12 we muttered Happy New Year Dear/Baby, depending on who you were listening to, turned out the lights and that was it.  Really.

Have a resolution?  Not I said the goose.  I quit doing that many years ago.  I think in my heart of hearts I do make resolutions.  But if you don't say them out loud it doesn't matter if you break them.  I think it's a little like if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there, does it make a noise?  Try real hard to make that connection.  So any way I'll try not to bounce checks, try to keep my job, or find a better one, and try not to piss anyone off.  But I am not fully resolved.  So there.

I don't know what this year has in store for me.  I don't foresee any fabulous vacations or the purchase of an idyllic farm somewhere adorable on the horizon.  But it's really nice to be surprised, so I remain ever hopeful.  Perhaps new grandchildren will appear though.  That would be nice.  As luck will have it, they will probably  be born about the same time 1385.77 miles apart.  Now what would you do?  How do you pick which offspring you honor with a visit?  Goody, something to stress about.

I have googled folks I knew from ages ago and  friend requested them.  Sometimes that works out really well.  Others. Not so Much.  Entertaining though.  How about this?  My brother and I do not see eye to eye and have not spoken in probably five years or more.  Now considering the history I don't really get too fussed about it.  Well anyway, my cousin invited Steve and I to his house for dinner just before Christmas, fine I thought, they are probably going away to some place fabulous and won't be here for the big day, so they're doing a little something early.  Yup, you guessed it,  the brother was there.  Talk about your elephant in the room.  To say it was awkward would be an understatement.  To say that he got up, went outside and smoked furiously, that's what you do when you smoke, btw, and never came back in was the honest truth.  Soooo more stilted, uncomfortable chit chat ensued with the cousins, aunt and so forth, then the spouse and I made our excuses and hit the road.  I am not going to enthrall you with the history of the sibling and I, though I could be persuaded given enough begging and tithes, but suffice it to say I can be taken advantage of and probably deserved what I got, but I super resent being slapped in the face with it.  If you are reading this, family, that's where that stands.  Well, that was a happy little aside now wasn't it?

On the other hand some of my friends have very exciting hopeful plans this year and next year as well.  When you are young you can plan a couple years in advance.  My peers know what I'm talking about, the youngsters in the group figure that that is just some weird psycho babble old people wallow in.  You see this year is the Pan American Games.  The equestrian events will be held at the Guadalajara Country Club.  Just a little FYI in case you were wondering.  And 2012 will be an Olympic year as the Summer Olympic Games will be held in Merry Olde England.  What this means, in a nut shell, is that everyone who is a hot shot will be angling for team positions, new and improved horses, and working themselves in to a proper lather.  They will be stressing about  fitness, money, competitions, money, conditioning, money, soundness, money, travel, money, having a couple in the International string of horses, money.  You see the pattern?    Time to listen to more Pink Floyd if you get my drift. 

In light of the performance of the Americans in the Show Jumping and Eventing this past year at the World Equestrian Games, there is a lot to stress about.  In my not so humble opinion, the WEG results were just another day at the office.  Some days you got it, some days you don't.  I felt really badly for the rider who had a brilliant round on the cross country all the way around...till the last fence.  As I have told you before, you fall off, no matter how gracefully or not, you are eliminated from the rest of the competition.  So yeah, she had a silly mishap, but that was it.  Our teams finished, just not in first, second or third, but they did in fact finish.  And there were more behind them than in front.  We got beat.  Full stop.  Get over it.  You have this year and the next to do it again...maybe.  This is very easy to say from the comfort of the BarcaLounger, but I don't believe you can argue the rationale.

On that happy note, I'll sign off and wait breathlessly for your comments, which never come.  But here's to a productive, fruitful New Year to all ya'll...
Cheers,
Squidgy

Let the Holidays Begin...I'm ready...not

So about two weeks ago whilst I was listening to the I-Tunes DJ serenade me on my computer, I began the holiday shopping for the grand children.  Yes I know...I'm far too young to have g.children but they're here anyway and are of an age to demand tithing at Christmas.  To prepare the mood I listened to the favorite old tis the season standards.  I began with "Money", Pink Floyd,  "Whoop De Do", Mark Knopfler, "The Chanukah Song", Adam Sandler, "Angels from the Realms of Glory", The Choir of Tewkesbury, and of course, "I'm Gettin Nuttin For Christmas", Stan Freberg.  Once the songs were indelibly burned in my brain, I was sufficiently motivated to get to the nuts and bolts of gift giving.

I have five adorable (what else?) grandchildren.  Four are boys and one is a girl.  Ladies first. 

It seems Little Mila Bird wants, and will get, the Breyer Classic 3 Horse Stable in pink.  It comes with a jump too. (two panel vertical if you must know) And because you can't and shouldn't have an empty stable it will house the (sold separately) classic sized TB Mare and Foal.  I was briefly entertained by the classic sized Pink Ribbon Horse, but on further examination, it looked like it had had it's epidermis (skin) shaved off and was left with the all the capillaries and veins etc. showing.  Not what you would have wanted.  I know, I KNOW it is a breast cancer awareness model horse, BUT why is it so obviously a stallion then?  I may be missing something, but there you go.  Mila's gift...check.

The children's mother assures me that Jack wants the Kid Kraft Huggable Hank.  She has even gone as far as to rehearse Jack to recite..."YaYa, I want the Hank Horse."  Two things here, YaYa is an adorable grandmother name and Jack can have anything he wants.  Full stop.  So back to Huggable Hank.  This is a large plush horse which comes with a saddle and bridle.  He sports either two white front legs, or two front legs with white polo wraps, hard to tell, but I guess your imagination must come in to play here.  Oh, just FYI, he has hind legs too.  Hank is lying down so you can lie on him.  I never did figure out lay, lie etc.  Prone is a better word, so use that instead.  Jack's gift...check

Little Silas was going to be thrilled with the organically wrapped, recycled cardboard box filled with old paper that came from sustainably grown trees.  Little Silas is one year and three months old.  He would have loved it.  You know eating books and all that.  But it seems one year olds have more material needs than I gave them credit for.  So instead, he will receive the earth friendly, organic and ecologically sustained wooden blocks with which he will pelt his siblings.  What happens to the gifts after they are given is not my responsibility.  Silas's gift...check.

I have two grandsons aged 12 and 14.  Now what?  Can you say gift cards?  Actually I have been informed that gift cards are bad to give cause they get lost, or all the dinero on them doesn't get used, and then the greedy corporate wolves benefit from the leftover cash because nothing ever comes out even.  You didn't really think they offered gift cards for convenience did you? Ho Ho Ho.

I actually know what teen aged boys want.  It isn't what  I wanted...a horse, a saddle and a bridle, if you've been a faithful reader you know that.  But the boys want guns and girlfriends, I'm morally opposed to those things, thanks to a sheltered upbringing.  (God I'm funny)  So to alleve the angst associated with a tremendously hideous choice of gift, I have decided to give them the gift of music.  They get to pick out the perfect sounds and I avoid all the moral opposition to inappropriate content and what not.  Drew and Garrett's gifts...check.

I have a step daughter.  Happily her gift is in the purview of the paternal parent, so I am off the hook, in more ways than one, but I'm sure she will enjoy her 800th Amazon Gift Card.  Gray's gift...check.

My own children, the lovely and gracious Alison, Lindsey and Megan are next.  Remember when I said I would love to go en famille to the "paint your own pottery" place, and spend the afternoon in creative bliss with the darlings?  If you're not a faithful Squidgy reader...too bad, it was in another post.  Any way once again I am disappointed because THAT ain't happening.  Naturally I am not bitter nor am I holding a grudge, but rest assured I am keeping score...So what to give them?  I usually manage to eke out something suitable, but they have been known to read this when forced, so I really shouldn't spoil the surprise.  Ho Ho Ho.  Somebody(s) had best remember to return calls emails and texts.  Currently only one of three is off the hook, and will be receiving something fabulous.  The other two?  Well let me just say, exactly how long HAVE you known your mother.  And have you forgotten what I'm capable of?  That's what I thought.  My inbox and message centers will be full in just moments.  And I am content.  Alison, Megan and Lindsey's gifts...check.

On to the spouse.  So many options here, but again, he can read and has been known to peruse Squidgy if only to pepper me with suggestions to correct tense, spelling and to point out typos.  So perhaps a nice book of grammar, and a volume of Emily Post for him?  And a 5# box of assorted chocolates (no nuts thank you) for me, he's diabetic and I'm evil.   Oh alright, tis the season for giving and to forgive (man that's a painful concept)  so I will find you something, spouse, that hopefully lets you know how much I love you, even if I have to make it.  Steve's gifts...check.

I also have three son-in-laws.  Numbers 1,2 and 3 curently in no particular order because lately they've been much nicer than usual to me and I'm feeling happy and magnanimous.  And charitable.  These guys are really hard to shop for. So let's review fantasy lists for them shall we?

Tim H., something loud and expensive that fits on a car or boat.  Perfect growing weather and good crop prices.  That ought to do it.  Tim H.'s gifts...check.

Tim B., custom saddle, 5000 acres and a fine pad, LQ horse trailer.  Tim B's gifts...check.

Josh K., whom you met in episode 1 - who would read this?,  I Pad, World Peace and College tuition paid for three children.  Josh's gifts...check.

Somewhere down the line I will find the proper gifts for giving to the guys.  Happily we won't do Christmas until the next paycheck, so I have time to ponder and purchase at my leisure.

I hope you are deserving for all you get.  May your new year be prosperous and happy.

Cheers,
Squidgy

Gobble Gobble

Did you enjoy Black Friday?

We had a traditional family Thanksgiving with the fried turkey, baked squash, canned cranberry, whipped potatoes, gravy and stuffing.  Then we enjoyed the old standby, chocolate fondue for dessert.  We were going to have an all fondue supper, but that will have to wait for another time.  Something about little children, hot oil in pots and dangling cords.  Nothing like 10-12 people double dipping to start the season off correctly with the transfer of gross germs and what not.

I like this season.  I like it for many reasons, I like seeing people, I like watching the lights and trees go up. I like the parties, the cards (so rare anymore) and the general feeling of good will.

I hate the shopping and the commerce side of it.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for the extravagant presents, like the new car with the giant bow, or the fabulous month long trip to where ever it is that I want to go and such like.  I hate the rushing feeling that if I'm not up at 3 a.m. to shop for the best deal I've missed out.  That I have no business being asleep at midnight when the stores have stayed open "for my convenience".  As if. 

I suggested we make our presents this year.  Well, talk about your blank stares and the who farted in church looks.  You know what would make me happy?  High tea with just the girls at the St Francis.  I want to spend the day baking cookies with the children and maybe make a gingerbread house.  I want to go to the "paint your own pottery" place and spend the afternoon with my darling children.  One of the best presents I ever got was a butter dish and cover from Megan that she painted and fired for me.  I love it to this day.  I love the paintings that Lindsey did of the sisters and me which hangs in my office and the big floral with the scary stalker guy hiding in the background which hangs in the hall.  I love the photographs  Alison has given me.  Those things are priceless. 

I also love the things we've done for Christmas as a family, the Nutcracker, Cirque de Soleil, crazy dinners at home. A thing will last a certain  amount of time, but a memory is there, for good or for bad, forever.  And even the bad memories have a tendency to mellow with time.  But a thing has to be sent to Goodwill.

I'm not particularly religious, but I think I could take some time every year to be happy to have a family and friends.  That I live in a house, that I can eat everyday, I have a car and go where I want (mostly).  That I am healthy and the ones I love are healthy.  I am happy my children have loves and that they love me.  I am also happy that I have the opportunity to go all the places I go, and that I have met some really fantastic people.  I am greatful for my spouse, with all your warts (and mine) you have been there for me when it counted.

I am not grateful for the dogs though.  They destroyed the garbage last night and to add insult to injury they tore apart the used coffee filters with the used coffee inside and smeared them all over the white carpet.  Not feeling the love.  Be assured they will wear the festive and over the top Christmas collars all season.  As they will then be sulking under the bed en masse they will have no opportunity to knock down the tree or open the presents under same.

Happy Holidays!

Squidgy

It's windy today

Actually, it's been windy for the last five days.  It is during windy weather that I don't miss riding. 

Let's discuss grooming.  If you are a boy, disregard this post as you won't have the first idea what it means to groom. If you are gay though, read on. 

Take one beast, roughly 1000+ pounds, hairy, dirty with a brain the size of a walnut.  We'll assume you are poor and have to groom your own horse.  Bring the  horse to the specially set aside grooming area which will have all the mod-coms such as electricity, water, sparkling clean brushes and combs, step stools, clippers, manure buckets, manure shovels and on and on and on to make the cleaning process pleasant. 

Step One.  Assess Fluffy for injuries with a critical eye. Awkwardly bent legs, blood and refusal to get up are all good indications something is not right.  Call the vet.  

Step Two.  Clean hooves.  This means you take a hoof pick and pry all the detritus Fluffy has stepped on/in out of the bottom of her hoof.  Mostly poop, but if you're in a hurry, then there will be mud of  the consistency of cement which will need be removed.  It is against the law not to remove all the detritus.  Just trust me on this.  Note if all the shoes are on Fluffy if she wears them, if not carry on.  If shoes are missing, half off, tweaked etc. call the shoer.

Step Three.  Curry Fluffy.  Some horses love this, others...not so much.  Learn which curry method will keep you alive.  Use a curry brush or comb depending on where ya'll r frum.  A Curry Brush is an oval shaped rubber hand held device with a handle on one side that fits over your hand.  The bottom side has ridges set in concentric ovals around the interior.  The ridges can either be saw toothed like sharks teeth or have kind round knobs.  You guess which one I prefer.  The idea behind currying is to loosen ground in dirt and other unspeakable items from the horses coat and hopefully bring to the top where with a practiced hand you just "whisk" it away the with a body brush which is held in your other hand.   The curry motion is a counter clock-wise moderate, not hard, pseudo-circular motion on the horses hide.  It is followed by a swipe of the body brush to pfft the dirt away.  So it's a little like making circle, circle, circle, then whoosh, cross the Tee.  Proceed from neck to tail, avoid sensitive areas.  On some horses the entire body is sensitive.  Take care to avoid swishing tails and flailing hooves and teeth.  Should a mishap occur, put Fluffy away, feed, blanket and pat, then call the doctor.

Step Four.  Use a non-invasive method to clean off the legs.  A rubber hand mitt with little knobs all over it can be employed to sluice the grime off followed by a nice soft brush.  But understand that you will need something more akin to a wire BBQ brush to remove mud and hair balls if the legs are hairy.  These devices are not allowed however, and you must employ muscle and time to restore Fluffy's legs to clean. FYI, in dirty hair on legs, especially around the lower limb and behind the pastern is also where lots of nasty bugs live.  The bugs cause infections which give you another opportunity to support your vet.  Call him/her.

Step Four.  Take a damp, not wet, cloth and swipe the coat one more time to pick up the rest of the filth.  With any luck you will have removed enough dirt, dead skin and other nasties from steps two and three that you do not create mud.  The goal is to have a nice clean horse.
 
Step Five.  Manes and Tails.  Let us hope you have the mane pulled.  This means several hairs at a time have been systematically removed using a pulling comb and tranquilizers until the mane is short, about something of a reasonable length in case you ever have to braid it.  It should also be of uniform thickness down the length which I can tell you right here and now is a trick in itself.  So anyway, then you brush the mane against the way it wants to lay, then comb it down.  If it is unruly, use a wet brush to encourage it to lay down.  This never works, but do it anyway.  The same is true for training the mane to lay down by braiding it.  It will look good for a minute, then go back to the way it was.  It's just the way of it.  But you have to try anyway.   Tails should be treated like gold.  That is to say you don't treat it like your own hair.  No, you must separate each strand from its neighbor with your fingers till all the hairs are independent of each other.  Then you spray stuff in it which is really some kind of silicone that makes it slippery and discourages tangles.  If you comb the tail with a comb or plastic brush I think the police come, or at the very least you will get yelled by some busy body who will lecture you ad-nauseum on the evils of messing with the tail...Just save yourself the agony of that particular exercise.  Really.

So now about five hours have passed, you haven't ridden and your allotted barn time is pretty much used up.  Nevertheless you must persevere and get on with it.

Tacking up.

If you have been religiously reading these posts, then you have read about tacking up before cross country during an event.  If not, then here goes.

Place a sparkling clean saddle pad on Fluffy's back smoothing it to make it lie flat.  Depending on your saddle fit, you will need any number of pads of varying thickness to make the saddle fit to the horses back.  Entire industries are devoted to saddle pads, baby pads, half pads, therapeutic pads, cell pads, gel pads, felt pads, wool pads, synthetic pads, countoured pads, shaped pads, dressage pads and so on.  It's really just best to buy at least one of everything and have them lying around in case you need a place for the barn cat to sleep and have kittens.  At any rate let us assume you have the combinations of pads narrowed down to a science for your particular saddle on this particular horse and this particular moment in the fitness of your steed and can now proceed to placing the saddle on top of the pads and spend a lot of time shifting it around till you are satisfied.  Then you can find your girth and buckle it to the "off side" billets on your saddle.  Then you should shift the saddle around some more and go around to the "near side" and buckle the girth to that side as well.  If you have martingales and breast collars/plates to use,  now is the time to sort that mess out.  There will be all the requisite fiddling associated with each of these contraptions too.   It is considered polite not to tighten the girth at this juncture to snug proportions.  You should go over to the "off side" once more and tighten the girth another hole and back around to the near side to tighten it as well.  Repeat as necessary. 

Some people have the luxury of having working bridles and show bridles.  Bully for you.  The rest of us are lucky to have a whole bridle of matching parts.  Whatever your situation, now is the time to maneuver the bridle on to the horse head simultaneously managing to get the bit in the mouth, over the tongue if possible, up over the ears and buckle in place.  For simplicity sake let's just pretend you only need a simple snaffle bit and a simple cavesson (nose band) and if you have to, a flash nose band too.  Hopefully nothing falls apart during this process and you don't lose the keepers that hold the straps in place, or you have employed a judicious use of braiding bands to substitute for them.  You should try to straighten the brow, nose and flash bands to a degree of level.  Then you should inspect your reins.  I shouldn't have to tell you that if your reins break bad things will happen.  For that matter you should have inspected the billets on your saddle and the trappings on your girth for weaknesses as well.  If you have a running martingale to contend with you will need to unbuckle your reins and slip them through the metal rings on your martingale and rebuckle the reins.  With any luck you will only have to do this once because you have mastered the martingale art but don't count on it.

It should be about dark now so have a nice ride.

Cheers,
Squidgy

Some old stuff I wrote a long time ago.

This is part of the blog I wrote during my last adventure as Young Rider Coordinator.  We took a bunch of kids from California, added in some from the East Coast and made teams to compete at the North American Young Rider/Junior Championships.  They were held at the Virginia Horse Center in Lexington, Virginia that year.  I begin with my own tremendous acheivments.

August or July 2007 - probably in the middle of the night.

Then there is the stuff I have done.  I began the hotel room quest in December, 2006.  I really wanted a hotel with an in-house restaurant.  Well anyway, I was successful in getting 10 rooms at the hotel I wanted, and did my due diligence in contacting the hotel throughout the spring and became acquainted on a regular basis with all three new sales managers, that is to say that over the seven months I’ve been calling and checking my reservations, each time a “new” sales manager had been hired.  Why wasn’t I afraid then?  Well as the saying goes you can’t teach old people anything.  I certainly qualify in all those regards.  But I digress.  Each time I talked to a new sales manager i.e.:   #1 – Carol and #2 Carmen – not the head of housekeeping Carmen, the other one and was assured my reservation was intact and all was fine and did I send in my contract, well no, because I didn’t have a contract, fine, they would send me one.  End of thought - until finally…#3 Sue whom I had my first contact with after I had promptly, nay early in fact, faxed in the room list one day  earlier than the requested two weeks prior to arrival due date.  Whew.  So Sue calls me, “we’ve cancelled all 10 of your rooms because we don’t have a signed contract.”  Sweet.  So I begin a rant that was tactful yet insistent, nasty yet polite, bratty yet saccharine – you get the idea.  I used phrases like, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a contract, I do have three names of three different people, not counting Carmen the head housekeeper whom I’ve also spoken to, and the dates and synopsis of the conversations we had”  and (this is a good one)  “Ya’ll (you want to get chummy) have in all ways been so courteous  perhaps I missed your phone call asking me about my intention with regard to my 10 room reservation?  It seems to me that I would have remembered such a call.  No? then I am truly puzzled” And finally, the coup d’gras “what will I tell the children?”  Clincher city.  Problem solved – 10 points for the good guy with a notebook.  By the by, the “contract” they kept referring to was in fact a letter which outlined the specifics of my reservation i.e.: the number of rooms, the date the reservation was taken, who I spoke to, on that day,  the date the room list would be required etal.  I must have sent that to them a hundred times without ever realizing the line that said signature was in fact asking for my signature…not the hotel sales manager du jour.  Whatever

It is my fervent hope that the hotel travesty will be the high drama of this year’s journey.  However, we do still have one more jog outfit to purchase.  After last year’s debacle at the mall, I’m opting for online shopping.  We still have a week before any of us actually sets foot on Blue Ridge soil, so perhaps we can gitter dun electronically and I can airily wave my hands around and utter such profundities such as “no darlin’ it does not make you look fat”, “yes, your butt does look big in the stretch mini” (AS IF),  “glitter is not an option”, and “you can not jog in a tube top unless your horse happens to be missing a limb.”  Enuff sed.  I’m warming up my southern-ness.

The adventure begins in earnest on Friday morning July 27 at the break of my dawn with a 6:15 a.m. departure from San Francisco to Roanoke via Atlanta.  Traveling with me will be Max Mc Manamy, Tara Polkabla, Meredith Ragno, JH Leahle and Jordan Kendrick, Tara’s b-friend. 

By the by, is it interesting that two years ago as we were getting ready to leave for Young Riders,  Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince came out, and now two years almost to the day, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is JUST out?  Maybe not interesting at all, but I know what I’ll be reading.

The trip is really about the adventure, but the adventure belongs to the riders and grooms.   Our grooms are pretty varied, Fiona Graham hails from Portola Valley in CA and was a contender for this year’s ** team, but her horse opted for a different path, and Fiona decided to come with the team in a different capacity.  Rachel Dwyer too, was candidate for the ** team, but found her counting skills to be questionable when she missed a fence at her qualifier and found herself eliminated, but  she too stepped up to the plate to help out her team.  Our third groom, Janelle Riddle  was a member of the ** star team two years ago and says she wants to “give back” to the program.  As you can see, these guys are what being a team member is all about.   Anyway, we have two teams of riders this year, both with three members.  The CCI* Junior team consists of Maxance Lavance McManamy (Max) and her horse 10 year old TB Beacon Hill (Taylor), Tara McKenna Polkabla (Tara) and Current Leader  (Katana) also a 10 year old TB and Meredith McIntyre Ragno and her  7 year old Dutch Wmbld. Sentenial K (Henley).  The CCI** Young Rider team includes Jennifer Ann Brannigan (Jennie) with 10 Year old Kozmo another TB, Olivia Katherine Loiacono (Liv) and her 11 year old chestnut TB Subway and our third member is Brett Elise Handy (Brett) with her 11 year old Irish horse Promising Sportsfield (Jack).  Brett is from Area X, New Mexico to be exact.  We are delighted that she has opted to throw her lot in with us’ns from the far west, and we promise to behave.  (snort)

July 28, 2007

As is typical it is after 9 p.m. and we are just now getting our act together enough to go eat dinner.  How many actually make it to this food fest is unknown.  But I will l describe the meal in excruciating detail.  As usual our little friend Jordan  (see above – Tara’s b-friend), was s.t.a.r.v.i.n.g.  this guy is a bottomless pit.  Cliché I know, but words defy me.  Starving at the airport yesterday morning, starving on the plane at the first snack thing, starving at p-nut time, starving in Atlanta, starving at dinner 3 hours later, starving this morning, at mid-morning, at lunch, at late afternoon and at dinner.  Wow, yes, he weighs 140 soaking wet and he’s 6’ tall.  This will be annoying.  I hope he has enough money to last the week.  I know I don’t have enough money to feed him for even one day…

Anyway, the rest of the girls, I have Tara, Max and Meredith , eat normally.  I don’t have any weirdos with me this year.  Max doesn’t eat fish, pineapple or OJ, Meredith hates hates hates broccoli and raw onions and Tara doesn’t like fish or tomatoes.  Jordan likes everything.  We also have a 6^th person with us.  May I introduce JH Leahle?  He was a business partner of Max’s dad.   He evidently has nothing better to do than hang out in VA with us and drive us around and be the best bud guy these girls have ever had.  I’m a fan.  Pictures to follow.  The meals in any case have been very staid and no drama, but it is only day 2.

What we did this summer…Today in addition to fetching feed and some supplies we also went shopping – cute boutiques here, then we went on our history lesson tour and visited the homes of General “Stonewall” Jackson and the Sloan house right here in Lexington, then we toured the chapel at Washington and Lee University.  Meredith is our little history buff and won a book at the Sloan House by knowing all the answers to all the questions.  I think she was offered a job, but I’m not sure.  Very entertaining.  But you will have to Google them yourself, cause there was a ton of information and you don’t have enough time for me to tell you all of it.

Tomorrow (Sunday) Katana, Taylor and Henley will fly in.  They are horses.  Two of the intrepid mothers are flying with the horses on a flight from Ontario in So. Cal to Roanoke, then the horses are being vanned to Lexington, well Natural Bridge, VA where they will stay overnight till we can get to our stalls at the VA Horse Center on Monday.  Olivia will be driving down from New Jersey tomorrow so we will have a CCI** rider in our midst as well.  Jennie and Brett get here on Monday and our rider contingent will be complete.

I have decreed a sleep in, sleep late tomorrow, not sure what that will mean to different people, but whatever.  JH was moaning that he had to go running and he makes Max go too, a little about the heat and humidity later…The rest of us will more than likely lounge around and get our heart rates up by osmosis or caffeine.  To each his/her own.

OMG I forgot to tell you about the team penning.  There is an AQHA show going on at the Horse Center right this minute.  So we ambled and mosied on over thar (western cowboy lingo for ya’ll) late this afternoon to enjoy that spectacle.  I gotta tell you, this is a pretty cheap lesson in the ways of the world that I get to experience with my little darlings.  So a little about team penning.  Imagine a regular  sized ring with pipe panels in the middle making a smaller, but not very small inner ring.  Then there is a little pen down at one end with 3 and ¾’s sides and an open gate like affair and another pen with gates that hold the herd at the other end.  So what happens is they bring in a bunch of veal, I mean calves to the pen with the gate, and they all have paper numbers attached in some fashion – I’m not sure how, not sure I really want to know.  So three calves each have the same number, so there are 3 number 1’s, 3 number 2’s and so on and so forth and they all try to hide or whatever in the open.  Then five riders come in on their wonderful little horses, 2 on each side and three in the middle, now the three in the middle would be your “team”  and evidently the other two are just there for fun, cause the announcer announces what number calf the team will be “penning” then the 2 guys jam it out of the ring like they’ve been scalded and the 3 that are left muddle around with the calves and try to sort the calves with their allotted number out of the mix and down to the end with the 3 & ¾ pen with the open gate deal without letting any of the other numbered calves out as well.  Then some timing thing is announced and if you don’t have your three calves out you are basically a loser, cause the really good guys got all their calves picked out and then you have to make them go into the little pen, but that seemed like easy, cause pretty much nobody had trouble if they were able to train their calves to go down and sit stay at that end of the arena without calling all their brothers down to join them.  Having the brothers join them means you get a big fat “NO TIME”  which means you l.o.s.e.  Calves are very naughty and have their own idea how this game is played which pretty much involves stymy the horse and rider duo.  Very entertaining.  I could do this.

I loved being the young rider coordinator.  I loved the dedication of the riders to their team, their horse and their sport.  I liked organizing trips like this, finding lodging, arranging transportation for 20 people from 20 different airports, and finding transportation for the horses and 16 tons of equipment to travel across the country.   I liked the part of eating new foods with teenagers.  It was always  an adventure driving around without benefit of competent map readers or GPS.  I still see the little darlings who made the teams, or groomed for Area VI.  At last count, at least two of those riders have competed over the pond in Europe or England on grants earned from being good riders on good horses. 

So this is  a cheap way to post a blog entry.  I did that in college too.  I wrote a paper for a Sociology class and used the same one for an English Comp class as well.  Evidently you aren't supposed to do that.  Oh well, they were my ideas put from pen to paper, and if you want my degree back you can have it.  It is just something I have to refile every now and again anyway.

Cheers,

Squidgy