Another Nap Update

Last time I tried to shorten Milton’s naps, he voted to continue [Nap Update]. This time, I had hoped that the attitude changes with the new food [Feed Adventures] would eliminate the need to put Milton up for part of the day [Naptime]. Less barn work for me and a more horse-like existence for him.

Not so much.

Milton was grumpier than merited. Rodney was working well but wore a concerned expression. I finally put Milton up for a nice, long, 2- to 3-hour nap. Lots of hay. Lots of time to stand & chill. Smiles and relaxed expressions all around.

The fixed environment of the stall give Milton’s hyperactive Thoroughbred mind a chance to recalibrate. This I knew. I didn’t understand how deeply naptime affected Rodney.

Their bromance is complicated.

When food is involved, or might be involved, Milton goes after Rodney like shark after chum. We call him Sharknado. Rodney jumps away like a startled bunny. While we have never seen Rodney retaliate, we have noticed that Milton is the one covered with scuff marks.

The rest of the time, Milton follows Rodney around with slavish devotion. Rodney chooses where to graze. Milton trails along. If Milton is in the stall, Rodney will often leave the run-in shed once his hay is gone. If Rodney is in the stall, Milton never leaves. He will hang out until Rodney is let out.

I think Rodney needs me time.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Rodney on a Long Rein

A short-term goal for Rodney is to walk quietly on the buckle. You’d think this would be Horse 101. I’m not talking an animated walk, or keeping his frame without me holding him up. I mean a slow, gentle plod around the ring, and ultimately around the field.

As with riding bareback, the goal is to relax. As with bareback [Looking Forward], Rodney doesn’t not find it relaxing.

The ultimate goal is to develop self-reliance. Previous Horse would warm up at the walk, trot, and canter with the reins on his neck. You better believe I want my horse thinking for himself [Fifth Leg]. But that comes later. For now, a quiet walk would be nice.

Rodney has rein issues. If I pick up any contact at all, he curls up like a shrimp. If I drop them entirely feels abandoned out there on the end of the reins by himself. This is not a surprise. He gets tense being all the way out at the end of a lunge line by himself. Hence the close-up ground-work [Progress, Roping Rodney (illustration)].

Rodney deeply, desperately wants to do the right thing. Either from a kind heart, or from a severe dislike of being yelled at. Or both. Either way, when left to his own devices he has no confidence that he is making the correct decisions.

Of course, what goes through his horse-sized brain is not that self-actualized. But that’s how my overly-literate, human brain translates the feel.

So I loosen the reins, breath deeply, and tell him he is a big, bold, smart horse who is absolutely nailing the exercise.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

But Keep the Old

Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other, gold.

What’s it like to meet your best friend after 39 years?

Weird.

Wonderful.

But weird.

While I was in New York [Posts], I met up with a woman I had known in grade school.

When I was 14, I moved from NYC to Washington DC. This was long before the Internet, so email wasn’t an option. Phones existed but long-distance calls were expensive and reserved for special, usually family, occasions. We tried. We wrote. We swapped visits. Ultimately, we drifted apart.

Life went on. I’d wonder about her occasionally, but didn’t have any mutual acquaintances to ask.

Enter Facebook.

Her name is non-standard in the USA. Google can only find one of her. If her name were Mary Smith, I’d still be wondering. (Internet says 18,846 Mary Smiths). Plus, she kept her name after marriage. One argument for that practice. I did not retain my maiden name, and I changed my stable name. Unless you knew me in both incarnations, nothing connects Kathy Tuttle of yesteryear with Katherine Walcott of today. (It feels weird to even type that.)

We knew each other for six years and were inseparable for four of them. As an adult I have jeans older than that. As a kid, a small number of years is a huge percentage of your life. This was also the last time I had all my friendship eggs in one basket. When I left New York, I started riding, which meant separate groups of barn friends and school/work/non-barn friends.

So what happened?

We talked.

We talked a blue streak.

Conversations about her kid led to our college experiences led to jobs led to husbands led to family. Politics wandered in briefly. (We reach.) I don’t think either one of us mentioned our school days together. There was a little bit of, “What happened to …” from people in her high school. Mainly it was now and how we both got to now.

With most old friends, you share the weight of your years together. In this case, we went from the age of 14 to 53 in a single bound. I discovered, all over again, what a cool person she is. If I met her today, as a stranger, I’d want to be her friend.

One breakfast was not enough time.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Foto Friday: Caeruleus Descending

blue-stairs-final

 

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Original

blue-stairs-start

 

Entrance stairs at Astor Place Theatre for the Blue Man Group.

Title Derivation
Since I have a cat named Blue …

Blue 6 29

,,, and he’s not in the photo, I wanted a non-English word for the color. Some were too close to the original, bleu (French). Others were too far apart, zelena (Slovenian). The Dutch word is blauw, but New York really doesn’t do much with its Dutch heritage. New York doesn’t do much with any heritage. The city is all about ‘What are you going to do for me tomorrow?’. But I digress. Latin was the right mix of obscure and familiar (cerulean), as well as being a pretty word.

Mainly I bring all this up as an excuse to include the link to a chart of colors in other languages, Omniglot: Colour words in many languages. Too cool.
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List of NYC Posts

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott