Support Your Local Blogger

Been There, Done That has jumped in with both feet. Since last we checked, there a have been three more horse posts.

The Worst Test

The worst dressage test I ever rode was on the same horse who gave me the best dressage ride I ever put in. Odd, isn’t it!

In his second-level work, “Moses was very good at canter-halt, not quite so good at halt-canter.” My favorite canter-to-halt story happened years back when I rode a friend’s horse in a sidesaddle flat class. George was the perfect Victorian-style horse, if he were pulling a milk cart. A fine ladies hunter he was not. He moved through the other competitors like an elephant moving through a coalition of cheetahs.

Since it was a pleasure class, we had to hand-gallop. George was not amused. Since it was side-saddle, I had my legs to the outside. The judge was to the inside in the middle of the ring. I thumped for all I was worth with both legs. George lumbered into a fractionally faster canter. When they called, as they inevitable do, for a halt, I merely stopped kicking. George locked all four legs and screeched to a stop. As the Thoroughbreds adjusted to the loss of velocity, I dropped the reins, sat aboard my immobile mount, and looked smug. FTW.

What’s in a Name?
More Names

The wittiest use of ancestry in a horse-name I’ve ever heard of was a racehorse I encountered when I worked at the track. His sire was The Axe II, and his dam was Top O’ The Morning. They registered him as Splitting Headache. Also creative was Prince John X Platinum Blond: Stage Door Johnny.

In the comments for What’s, I told the story of Previous Horse’s well-deserved barn name. I’ve blogged about Rodney’s various names [Square One, Contest Winner]. Mathilda is named for one of my Dungeons & Dragons characters. There have to be serious geek points in that.

Click over to find out how she jazzed up an uninspiring stable name.

I may have a new blog to announce soon. A friend just asked for some advice on starting one.

A while back, Hubby and I traveled to Shanghai. Our group was taken out to dinner by an friend of mine who had married a Chinese woman. He claimed to know very little about local customs, but he sure knew more than we did. He enjoyed spending the evening playing Old China Hand.

I know how he feels. My blog may not have taken the blogosphere by storm, but I’m happy to dispense whatever advice I can muster to anyone who will listen. I love playing the Old Blogging Hand.

Title: on the information superhighway (there’s an old term), everyone is local. I, for one, think that makes right now a cool time to be alive.

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