There is none. I must respectfully – and carefully – disagree with the Marines that pain is weakness leaving the body. Pain is the body having a temper tantrum. It overreacts [vasovagal response]. It’s bad at explaining itself [referred pain]. It’s loud and annoying and you can’t wait for it to get over itself and get back to normal behavior.
However, there is clarity in sickness. A while back, a post-root canal got infected while I was out of town by myself. Can we count how many things are wrong with that sentence? Put it this way, I was in my favorite city in the world & I came home early. That’s how much pain I was in. While I was ill, life seemed so simple. The existential voices that question my purpose in the universe and the logistical voices that worry about to-do lists were both drowned out by the one screaming voice wanting it all to STOP.
My view of the universe lately.For the last two weeks, my daylight hours have been spent grazing Mathilda or sitting with her. I did very, very little else. I managed one short interview wherein I was so mentally absent that I had to toss my written notes and go back to the tape. Fortunately, the gentleman in question was informative enough and charming enough that he carried the day with a minimum of prompting. I kept up the daily posts here, usually late at night, just before I collapsed into bed. If there hadn’t been Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event to escape into [Peregrinatio], the blog would have ended right there.Trust a cat to capitalize on a captive audience.
Dishes? Not even a twinge as I passed by the overloaded sink. Clothes? I just put the same barn jeans back on from the day before. Hygiene? No one’s going to see me other than Hubby & horses. They were going to have to take what they got.
As Mathilda has gotten stronger, I can leave the barn for longer. As the crisis recedes, life reasserts itself. I look around and realize that the house is in even worse shape than usual. There are blogs I need to draft ahead. There’s this cute fellow who appears to live here. Life is better now. Life is much, much better. But life is more complex than it was a week ago.
In honor of Cinco de Mayo & since I can’t think of anything else, a web tour of horses in Mexico.
[Do not surf on “mexico horse” unless you have a strong stomach for shock photos. Don’t know what that had to do with with my search query. I didn’t ask. I think I found my limit on how free the Internet needs to be. Now I’ve made you want to go look. Don’t. Really.]
The National Horse of Mexico is the Azteca Horse, an Andalusian & Quarter Horse/Criollo cross. Never heard of ’em. Now I want one. Check out the barn candy at AAHIA. Azteca info from the International Museum of the Horse.
I’m sure it’s unPC, but we’ve all done it in the back of a pick-up truck: riding Mexican.
And for today’s educational segment: CdM is a) a small regional holiday in Mexico b) an excuse to party c) a source of Mexican-American self-identification
d) all of the above.
I’ve ridden a racehorse in Italy & a Camargue [tourism in French, reference in English] horse in France. What international adventures have you had?
After I took this admittedly inadequate picture of Arthur in an old salt block holder, I moved in for more Cheezburger. This woke him up and he came over to see me. In trying to capture a moment, I destroyed it.
Photo by Kathie MautnerWhen I was at a baptism, the font was blocked by eager relatives snapping the moment of immersion. It looked more like a media scrum than a religious ritual. Yet, if my friend had not had her camera during my wedding, I wouldn’t have one of my favorite pictures (used Tuesday).The pink shoulder is my mother, black shoulder is my father, & this is one of a handful of pictures of two of them together.
If discretion or secrecy is required, writers can take mental notes and perform a brain dump at the first opportunity. Until we can implant William Gibson‘s Zeiss-Ikon eyes to take visual notes, photography will be a balance between intrusion and posterity.
While hovering over Mathilda like a chick-obsessed hen, I have had no time and less energy for anyone else: husband, dogs, cats, other horse. Husband has understood. Dogs, cats & other horse, not so much. For example, today was the first day I found the enthusiasm to give Rodney a thorough grooming. On the upside, I’ve had a week & 1/2 to observe without interacting.
What I Learned
Rodney is not sulky. This constitutes a glorious change from Previous Horse who could have sulked professionally. While Rodney might prefer more attention to the Thoroughbred, he’s not going to get crabby about the lack.
Rodney is curious, when he feels safe. If you are trying to shoo a horse away from, say, another horse’s hay pile, you have to balance getting a reaction with scampering out of the barn screaming that the sky is falling. Rodney defaults to sky-falling, even to what I consider a gentle gesture. He is, however, open to being soothed and deflected from his headlong rush.
The Point Being?
I need to learn to move with Zen-like patience. I am not advocating being mean to a horse. Ever. But an aggressive horse must be met with equal assertiveness on the part of the handler. If a horse plans on testing your boundaries, you better be prepared to defend those boundaries immediately and effectively or you’re gonna get bit. Rodney, on the other hoof, is more likely to go into his startled bunny routine [Know You] than threaten me with pinned ears. ZLP is going to be hard at home, impossible at a show.
I’ve noted before that Rodney accepts funny objects [My Two Horses]. Now, I’ve started to deliberately use his curiosity to defuse his panic attacks. When he overreacts, if I physically step back and give him time & space, he will climb down out of the rafters, even coming over to me to see what’s what. If I can figure out how to work with it, his inquisitiveness will be to my advantage. It will be interesting to see how translates to under saddle.
[Nothing of bloggable note happening around here, so I must look outward.]
From the App Store, a Magic 8-Ball [proprietary or virtual] for horses:Horse I Ching
When I “Ask the Horses”, the result can be weirdly accurate. Other times, it’s an S of Y. Today I asked:
Q: What will be Rodney’s first horse show with me?
A: Conflict is not always obvious to the observer. Things may appear to be going well, though an eruption is brewing just below the surface.
Make of that what you will. Either way, you get gorgeous horse pictures along with the advice.
InSilico also puts out Celestial Tones
& Magic Mouth
The people behind InSilico are horse folks, so profits go to a good cause, i.e. carrots. feed, hay…
What is your favorite non-linear source of advice?
In honor of our anniversary & to prove I didn’t forget this year:
[Originally appear as “Horse Tales: On Husbands and Horses”, Horse Illustrated, September 2011.]
Photo by Kathie Mautner
My horses may be unbroken hooligans, but I am a spectacular husband trainer. I start with a man who’s ridden a handful of times and drives a Datsun 300Z sports car. I produce a man who has his own horse and covets the Dodge truck with the Cummings diesel engine.
Be Careful What You Ask For
Since he is smart and observant, new Hubby easily becomes a human mirror. I tell him what to look for; he corrects my riding. The initial dialogues run something like this:
Hubby: Your hands are too low.
Me: What do you know? I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. How could you think you know more about this than I do?! Rant! Rave!
Hubby: You said that your elbow and hand should make a straight line with the bit. They don’t. Your hands are too low.
Me: (grumble, grumble)
Allow Them Room to Grow
Our first horse as a couple is an off-the-track Thoroughbred, complete with racing plates attached. Hubby quickly learns to stand in the center of a lunging circle. After a few months, Horse is progressing nicely but is half-broke at best. I go out of town. I call back to check on Horse and Hubby. “We’re fine,” he says, “Only, I got tired of lunging. I decided to ride.” I am struck dumb by the unsuitability of a novice rider and a horse whose three gaits started as walk, jig, and buck. “It’s okay,” he tells me, “He only ran halfway back to the stall.”
Don’t Lend Him Your Horse
Horse eventually learns the three gaits. We head to a horse show. I’m thrilled to scrape up a few pastel ribbons in low jumping classes. Hubby rides Horse in the Introductory Rider division. They win the two over fences classes, didn’t bother with the flat class, and win the division. Yes, winning reflects on my training. Yes, I had schooled Horse over all his jumps. I still want to make the two of them walk home.
Beware of Overtraining
At another show, Horse dumps me at a cross-rail and heads for the horizon. Hubby and a family friend observe this statement of principle from the side of the warm-up ring. Family Friend goes after Horse. All well and good. However, Hubby also goes after Horse, leaving me prostrate across the jump. Look after the steed. Try not to forget the wife.
Don’t Laugh
I borrow a friend’s Patient Little Horse for a family trail ride. Horse is a complete pill toward P.L.H. the entire ride. P.L.H. bears this with fortitude. Back at the barn, P.L.H. finally decides he’s had it with Horse’s behavior. From a standstill, P.L.H. makes a surprise lunge. Horse leaps backwards with a startled Who Me? attitude, complete with a dramatic Miss Piggy hand to the chest. Horse can’t believe someone has an argument with him. In the fuss, Hubby is taken by surprise and comes off. There is a moment when Hubby and Horse have exactly the same startled look on their faces. I can not restrain myself. Don’t laugh if your spouse falls. Really, really don’t start laughing before he hits the ground.
A Word to the Guys
Hubby’s advice to future horse husbands: Give it up. You are never going to rip the horse out of the girl, so don’t even try. You may choose to follow her to the barn, or you may send her off with a kiss on the cheek, but she’s going to go. Get used to it.
Hubby’s advice to all horse husbands: Never, ever ask your wife to chose between her husband and her horse. You won’t like the answer.
==
How do you reconcile spouse & stable?
[End-of-month post on blogging. List of previous eom posts.]
Blog research has been an excellent excuse for causing major hitpoints to our data plan looking for up-to-the-minute information on the Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event last week. I even dipped into the USEF Network videos for cross-country and show jumping. Usually, I don’t touch video. It just makes the imaginary meter whir. So, why is live so much different than DVD? The objective experience is no different. Either way, eyeballs meet colored lights on a small, flat box. Does the thrill from knowing that the activity is occurring as you watch equal magical thinking or epistemological nuance?
During the week, I felt weirdly in sympathy with the four-star riders. In the run up, these people have spent all day, every day with these horses. They watched every step for indications of a problem. They obsessed about every mouthful of food and water. Yes, these are superfit athletes at the top of their game, and I am at the opposite end of the spectrum hand-grazing one geriatric mare, but guess what I’m doing? Spending all day at the barn, watching & obsessing.
Now I’ll have to end the blog after a year. I’ve told my best Rolex stories. What would I have to say in 2013?
For those in the audience keeping score. Mathilda’s immediate crisis appears to be over & we have moved on to secondary complications, i.e. the opposite leg is sore from bearing the extra weight. Drat.
What was your most recent virtual/vicarious experience?
Virtual Brush Box 