My pony ride
So okay, I'll confess: Though my life is extremely full right now, and time is crunched and squeezed to the max, I still wanted to celebrate my birthday, and do it as I have always dreamed of doing --- Riding my beloved horse around my own farm... But since my dear hubby had other plans (read: not to include tractors, no matter how sexy I think his might've been) and built a big, beautiful new home for us on just one acre in a lovely neighborhood of sames, my daughter brought the farm to me... She loaded up Handsome Boy from her farm where he lives now, and trailered him directly to me - drove truck and trailer all the way down the highway (which she does anyway as she shows throughout the east), right on into my non-horsey, non-farm neighborhood and pulled right up in front of our house...
I was so pleased. And excited. And rather smug. Until, that is, Handsome came a snortin' and a stompin' bassackwards out of the trailer -- and he hadn't even seen me yet...
I swear, the horse has held a grudge against me since the first day I saw him 14 years ago - it was love at first sight for me, but totally unrequited... He only had eyes for my daughter, and took every opportunity to try to scare the bojangles out of me any and every way his beautiful German butt could... And tossed me on my own waaaay to many times than I care to admit.
But when my daughter assured me that with age he has mellowed, so much so that he gives 'up/down' (or beginner) lessons to all sorts of beginning riders with nary an ear twitch, I of course, believed her.
One can imagine my surprise when the Beast from the Depths of Equine Hell disembarked the trailer. With all my neighbors and friends around. And my three teenagers watching. And their friends as witnessess as well. And neighbors driving up and down the street. I of course, now mortified and in the beginning throws of a major anxiety attack, just had to manage to act cool. Unscathed. Unruffled. Serene... I was certain I at least looked the part in my full riding boots & britches, but OMG!!!
I'd love to say I handled it particularly well with grace and style and professionalism. But what I actually did was mutter "holy sh*t" and hopped off with some lame excuse of having to fix my too bunched at the toes sock under my boots and a feeble "Darling, why don't you warm him up for me?" directed at my daughter.
Her Mama didn't raise no fool, no sir - so she gave me that snide sideways eye thing she's been throwing my way since she turned 13 and hoped up into the saddle. Now it was my turn. HA, HA, and triple HA! Handsome Demon proceeded to attempt to back up all the way across the lawn, eyed and then tried jumping the six foot fence that surrounds the pool (which in his youth he could have taken with his eyes closed) screeched and whinnied and neighed and blew for the better part of at least 30 minutes which only served to attract more neighborhood kids, and in general, acted like an *ss.
Then she, honestly unruffled, pronounced him "calm" enough for me to ride. Ah huh. But stupidly prideful enough to care that I not be shown up by my own kid (who at times I kid myself into thinking might possibly have gotten some of her talent and bravery from me), I got back into the saddle. Or, if truth be told, I harumphed my menopausally fat beehind oh-so ungracefully onto Handsome's strung-tight-like-a-violin-string back - and that was only after grabbing a milk crate kinda thingie from the garage to use as a mounting block.
However ungraceful it may have been it was an accomplishment just to get on, and the last for the day. Though I did get him to take a few sane steps (okay, so they were backwards, then sideways) and kept all four of his hooves on the ground when they were supposed to be, I knew he was a lookin' for the exit. And so was I.
And so, I nonchalantly (read: screamed through clenched teeth in a whispering kind of tone while all the while hoping that the grimace of abject terror was reading as a hearty smile by my audience) asked daughter Tessa to discreetly grab his bridle. And hang on. And not let go. Please. Dammit.
So I got a pony ride on my 49th birthday, led by my daughter. Around my little non farm acre. By my oldest child. In a very non rural type neighborhood. With people watching. And explained my furiously red face to my friends who asked as not embarrassment a'tall, no no not at all, but simply my internal combustion engine hot flash machine.
And learned once again - watch what you wish for as you might just get it.
I'm setting up an ebay store, btw... Saddle, anyone???
I was so pleased. And excited. And rather smug. Until, that is, Handsome came a snortin' and a stompin' bassackwards out of the trailer -- and he hadn't even seen me yet...
I swear, the horse has held a grudge against me since the first day I saw him 14 years ago - it was love at first sight for me, but totally unrequited... He only had eyes for my daughter, and took every opportunity to try to scare the bojangles out of me any and every way his beautiful German butt could... And tossed me on my own waaaay to many times than I care to admit.
But when my daughter assured me that with age he has mellowed, so much so that he gives 'up/down' (or beginner) lessons to all sorts of beginning riders with nary an ear twitch, I of course, believed her.
One can imagine my surprise when the Beast from the Depths of Equine Hell disembarked the trailer. With all my neighbors and friends around. And my three teenagers watching. And their friends as witnessess as well. And neighbors driving up and down the street. I of course, now mortified and in the beginning throws of a major anxiety attack, just had to manage to act cool. Unscathed. Unruffled. Serene... I was certain I at least looked the part in my full riding boots & britches, but OMG!!!
I'd love to say I handled it particularly well with grace and style and professionalism. But what I actually did was mutter "holy sh*t" and hopped off with some lame excuse of having to fix my too bunched at the toes sock under my boots and a feeble "Darling, why don't you warm him up for me?" directed at my daughter.
Her Mama didn't raise no fool, no sir - so she gave me that snide sideways eye thing she's been throwing my way since she turned 13 and hoped up into the saddle. Now it was my turn. HA, HA, and triple HA! Handsome Demon proceeded to attempt to back up all the way across the lawn, eyed and then tried jumping the six foot fence that surrounds the pool (which in his youth he could have taken with his eyes closed) screeched and whinnied and neighed and blew for the better part of at least 30 minutes which only served to attract more neighborhood kids, and in general, acted like an *ss.
Then she, honestly unruffled, pronounced him "calm" enough for me to ride. Ah huh. But stupidly prideful enough to care that I not be shown up by my own kid (who at times I kid myself into thinking might possibly have gotten some of her talent and bravery from me), I got back into the saddle. Or, if truth be told, I harumphed my menopausally fat beehind oh-so ungracefully onto Handsome's strung-tight-like-a-violin-string back - and that was only after grabbing a milk crate kinda thingie from the garage to use as a mounting block.
However ungraceful it may have been it was an accomplishment just to get on, and the last for the day. Though I did get him to take a few sane steps (okay, so they were backwards, then sideways) and kept all four of his hooves on the ground when they were supposed to be, I knew he was a lookin' for the exit. And so was I.
And so, I nonchalantly (read: screamed through clenched teeth in a whispering kind of tone while all the while hoping that the grimace of abject terror was reading as a hearty smile by my audience) asked daughter Tessa to discreetly grab his bridle. And hang on. And not let go. Please. Dammit.
So I got a pony ride on my 49th birthday, led by my daughter. Around my little non farm acre. By my oldest child. In a very non rural type neighborhood. With people watching. And explained my furiously red face to my friends who asked as not embarrassment a'tall, no no not at all, but simply my internal combustion engine hot flash machine.
And learned once again - watch what you wish for as you might just get it.
I'm setting up an ebay store, btw... Saddle, anyone???
posted by onwardb at 1:22 PM
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