I had such plans. NaBloPoMo is my final push to launch my blog at a wider audience before I pick up my marbles and go home [Vox]. The only rule for NaBloPoMo is to blog every day. Since I had done that for the 10 months previous, the idea of daily blogging did not strike fear into my heart. Not only was I going to blog daily, but I was going to write tiny, sparkling mini-essays that began with my horse topic then widened to resonated with a general audience. Plus I was going to surf and comment until my fingers were nubbins, discovering new blogs and forging online friendships.
I deliberately began with a post designed to appeal to NaMoBloPo participants, 10 Tips For Daily Blogging. However, when I added it to the NaBloPoMo Soup blogroll, I did not yet realize I could include subtitles. So my first entry is an undistinguishable #14 among 100s, growing to 1000s, of other posts. Poor planning.
Then I got sick. The grand visions came to a screaming stop. The blog nearly came to a screaming stop. I wanted to lay down and quit. Not only did I lack the energy to blog, I lacked the energy to go to the barn. Since my blog has a narrow subject focus, if I don’t fuss with the horses, I have nothing to blog about. So that was the irony of the first part of my November. I had intended to do so much more. I ended up struggling to maintain status quo ante. Yes, I can start now, but the eight-ball is winning.
How are you monthly/yearly goals coming along?
Gratuitous Kitten Pic
The final plan for my for my Horse Hunt Weekend [HHP] was to drive one state east to look at a horse a friend had kindly tried out. Some of the age/breed/price variables were not ideal but I was up for the road trip because
a) I have no idea what I want.
b) Mark Todd says you should try every horse.
c) This one came pre-checked, so it was less a shot in the dark than most.
I was due to pick up the rental car on Monday morning, but by Sunday afternoon the trip still had not come together in all its particulars. My life is too cumbersome to leave at the last minute, so we bailed. Being unable to spiff off on a whim should make me feel vital & necessary. Mostly, it makes me feel insufficiently organized.
Plus, still I’m sick from Wednesday. Horse shopping requires energy, enthusiasm, optimism, & other vowel-oriented words. I, on the other hand, am gacking, sneezing, whinging & filling the space around me with uncomfortable, spiky-consonantated mannerisms.
So. After after four days and three trainers, I have tried 0 horses. I have a promising nibble from the in-state, out-of-town trainer [Day 2], but I had hoped for so much more. Is it any wonder I get a little worried about my bad karma with this project?
Sunday was our day to chat with a trainer from another part of the state [HHP]. She very sensibly asked what I was looking for. Ultimately, I am looking for a horse. Right now, I would settle for a short answer to that question.
The one thing the poor woman didn’t want was my life history. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I spewed out. I was wearing a Rolex hat, so I found myself going back to the purchase of Previous Horse and explaining his lack of interest in eventing. That was 23 years ago. No matter how much one consolidates, a story that spills into three decades is too long.
What she wanted to hear was:
A talented young horse that I can bring along.
A reliable older horse that can pack me around.
Both is not an option.
The only fully correct answer is
Read to here.
Then you tell me what I’m looking for.
When you horse (cat, dog, spouse) shopped, did you go after a list of specific attributes or did you know the right one when you met?
Gratuitous Kitten Pic Cat shaming or an object lesson in getting the groceries put away immediately?
BTW, the chicken pieces are for Senior Cat, so no harm done.
Saturday, we were scheduled to see a local horse [HHP]. The seller wasn’t scheduled to show us said local horse. I accept that crossed wires occur. A reasonable answer might have been, “When I hadn’t heard from you, I made the assumption that you were no longer interested in —–. I have made other plans. Can we get together on X day instead?” This was not the tone in which the seller chose to respond. To my mind, showing a horse does not constitute an onerous favor granted by the seller. Plus, this is the second time the seller has been too busy to show us the horse. Rationally, I know that the attitude of a seller has no bearing once the check is signed. If you can survive the experience, buying from Crazy Eddie makes no difference than buying from Zelda Zen. However, I am only human. If I am going to shovel boatloads of money into another person’s pocket, I don’t want to have to chase that person down and force my money on them. Grumble. Grumble.
When things go bad yet again, I start to wonder if it’s time to call a halt to the whole horse idea and take up, I dunno, LEGO? Pinball? Hubby says my words do not match my actions. He will be more willing to believe that I want to give up horses once I stop spending money at tack stores.
Care to share your happy & serendipitous horse shopping story to cheer me up?
Horse Hunt posts
Saddleseat posts, especially show announcement
Gratuitous Kitten Pic
Mathilda has decided to change her lifestyle. We were slow to get the message, so she took action.
At the Thursday morning carrot check, Hubby was greeted with an empty pen, the barriers in place [Debriefing], mare & gelding calmly eating grass out in the pasture. He came back to the house, to fish me out of bed, so that we could both stare slack-jawed. Everything was in place. No broken rails [Jailbreak]. One perfectly functioning pen, just minus one mare. How did she get out? A locked stall mystery. Jumping over the top rail would have been impossible on her best day, so we figure she got down on her hands & knees and limboed under the bottom rail.
She really, really wants to be out in the field. We have decided we had better let her. When my Grandmother was ailing, she had several habits that were contraindicated by her doctors. I consoled myself with a) everyone has a right to make their own life choices & b) being stubborn got her past her 90th birthday, so who am I to argue with success? Similarly, Mathilda is more likely hurt herself frolicking with Rodney but she is far happier. How do we balance her mental versus physical needs when they are in conflict? We want to envelop her in bubble wrap. She wants to be a horse. Plus, being stubborn got her to 28, so who are we to argue with success?
We are building up to full turnout for both at the same time. It may take us a while to wrap our minds around the idea. However, we better be quick about it, or she will take matters into her own hooves again.
Late breaking news: Hubby just came back from the barn. They are out in the field. Rodney is napping. Mathilda is standing guard. Our herd is behaving like a herd. That has to be good for both of them.
Gratuitous Kitten Pic