Rodney Is Awesome: Attack of the Swimming Noodle

After reading about a groundwork competition in France [Equifeel Championnat Départemental], we decided to try Rodney with the turn on the forehand in a circle. The idea is to put the horses forefeet (or hindfeet) in a prescribed area, then do a full orbit while keeping the two feet within the circle. We (the barn “we”) joined two swim noodles into a ~3′ circle.

I held it up for Rodney to sniff. No big deal. Since he has proven amenable about the noodles in the past [Noodling, Weekend], I upped the ante. Slid it right over his head. I do NOT recommend trying this with most horses. Previous Horse would have had a litter of kittens. Mathilda would have zoomed backward out of the barn before you got close.

As the noodle ring settled around his shoulders, Rodney’s head came up and his eyes bugged out. But he stayed put. Despite reservations, he let us spin the ring around his neck. We slid it back and forth. We took it off. We made him reach through it for a treat: cookie! going under weird thing! cookie … weird thing … maybe if I make my nose reeeeeally long I can reach the cookie.

He never got blase about a noodle in the air above his head, but he handled it extremely well. When we finally got back to the original exercise, it was a bit of an anticlimax.

Equine ring toss. Who knew.

Beads. Free To Good Home.

For a project later in the year, I am collecting inexpensive letter beads of A, D, E, G, N, O, R, S, Y. Unfortunately, beads come in units of alphabet. (Oddly, two sets lacked the letter E. Weird.) So, I have a pile of 17 letters for which I have no need. Want ’em?

beads

To repeat, the beads are of costume quality at best. Some are decidedly cheesy. One bag was $1 at Big Lots, a discount resale store. We’re not talking Murano glass here. If you are interested, please email me (Katherine) at rodneyssaga@gmail.com. Unless you have a work-around for the postage, offer limited to the US.

If you wish to trade these beads for ones with required letters, or with horse themes, that would be lovely. The goofier the better.

Project to be revealed Sunday, August 31, 2014. At least one person out there knows what’s up … (waves hi) … insert suspense music.

Life Hacks: Can Opener

You have cats? Dogs? Critters who eat food from tins? Have you tried a safety can opener?

can top

I would have sneered at the idea as a useless fad until my father gave me one. I now use it on every can. If it is not to hand, I’ll tear the kitchen apart, ignoring our traditional can openers in my quest.

The mechanism uncrimps the rim of the can, leaving a smooth, harmless surface on can and lid. Cat food cans are given to the dogs as clean-up treats. Lids are rinsed off without slicing fingers in a sacrifice to the gods of recycling. Plus, the unit never touches food, so no grungy cutting wheels.

can bottom

It takes a while to get the angle exactly right. For the longest time, I had my dexterous, non-catperson Chef open the nightly cat tuna. I remember my father pulling it out of his suitcase during a trip to Chicago, so I know we’ve had it since 2007. No sign of wear or failure.

Mine is a Zyliss, but any brand would work.

Rhyme photobombs my photography studio.
Rhyme photobombs my photography studio.

Foto Friday: Or Not

Still haven’t gotten started on the photo project [Recommitment]. Or written any more Off Topic posts. I’ve even fallen off on gratuitous cat snapshots. Where will the Internet find cute cat pictures if I don’t supply them?

I couldn’t begin to tell you where my time goes. Folks out there have careers and compete. I don’t have a job and ride once a week. Free time ought to be accumulating around me like dust bunnies.

Part of the delay is hopeless despair brought on by professional envy. One of the riders at our barn is professional photographer Meg McKinney [website, Facebook]. Last weekend, she took photos at the show. (She was off grounds for my classes. I’m in the background for one but ain’t gonna tell you. I look awful.) Show album here. The choice of subjects. The timing. The focus. The composition. The color. The … everything. This is what happens when one has a real photographer behind the wheel.

With practice, I can get better. I’ll never be good. Not like that. You could give me a camera set-up that costs more than my car, a year of intense instruction, and I still wouldn’t be a visually expressive person.

Grumble. Gripe. Grouse.

Perhaps next week the life fairy will fly through with magnetic pixie dust that magically pulls my act together.

At least Rodney is having a good time.
At least Rodney is having a good time.

Clinic Report: Saddle Seat with Christy Parker

A post-show clinic by the judge, Christy Parker of Pine Haven Stables & Riding Academy, Brunswick, Georgia.

Day One: Private
Since this was immediately after the show wherein I performed so exceedingly well [Show Report], the lesson was on getting the left lead canter. Since this was a lesson not a show, of course we got it.

Overall, the guest instructor’s method had more dressage stirred into the mix: bending, leg yield, changes of direction. She gave more corrections and varied from the standard pattern. My regular instructor is more old school. Say I, with my vast experience in differing styles of saddle seat training.

Too much advice can feel helpful in the moment but ultimately leave the rider lost. I had a dressage instructor who taught through headphones. I executed all kinds of marvelous maneuvers as he oversaw our every footfall. Once he left, my mind was a blank.

In China, Tai Chi is taught without comment. Students follow the model of the instructor until they stumble on learn the pattern for themselves. This ingrains the lesson but can be frustrating in process.

I suspect a balance is the answer. It usually is.

The clinician thought my position was technically correct but looked uncomfortable. Again, it was a lesson. I ride lovely in lessons. It is only at shows that I start flinging my upper body about as if I’m trying to shave two seconds off the inside turn in a jump-off. She had me lower my hands into what was a more natural position for me. Later, I asked my instructor which I should use, the raised hands I had been working on previously or this new method. The answer: both. Well, THAT was helpful.

Perhaps my regular instructor has me exaggerate the saddle seat position in a vain effort to keep my sloppy hunter/jumper habits from creeping in. Sloppy habits that I picked while riding h/j, not that h/j habits are inherently sloppy. Just to be clear.

The clinician talked about flair. Once a rider has the basics, she needs to work out a particular way of holding her hands or of moving her body that gives the ride individuality. I had never heard equitation discussed in terms of expressing individual style.

Speaking of style, a knowing smile often works better than an ear-to-ear grin. As they say in football, when you get to the endzone, act like you’ve been there before.

Of course, this was before I found out I still had issues with gross motor control. Nuance will have to wait.

Day Two: Group
We all rode super-reliable camp horses used for beginners. These were the horses who would not object if the rider began exhibiting weird and erratic behavior such as sitting the trot, putting the knees on the withers, reaching forward to touch the ears … Are you nodding your head yet? Yeah, me too. We did all of those exercises that we all know, but really only do when we are warming-up at a Pony Club rally.

Watching the group before mine, I noticed that the kids braced themselves on the neck/held on to the mane during the trot two-point without stirrups. Naturally, when it came my turn, I knotted my reins and stuck my hands out to the side like I was playing airplane. Tough, yes, but the desire to show off is a fine motivator. I can’t gloat too much. We started on a very unlevel playing field.

The exercises made sense in the aggregate. For me, they may not have been the best choice. I could feel my hands drifting down towards the withers and my weight shifting toward the center of the saddle. When I stop consciously holding the line, 2 years of saddle seat goes poof and 30+ years of forward seat reemerges.

Today is my first lesson since the show/clinic. We’ll see how bad the damage was.