Mouthy Mondays

I owe an apology to fyyahchild. She sent me this post many, many moons ago and I even remember reading it. I somehow didn't post it. Please, please, if I did this to anybody else resend your story with a reminder.


I have some kick butt news. I found a stable 2 blocks from my job. It has good sized pens and sheds, the place was clean, the water tubs full and scrubbed and the food program was great.
There is a gorgeous, huge outdoor arena, a good sized indoor and access to lots of trails. The city park has another good public arena and is across the street.

I had no idea how much I was missing a well disked professional level arena. I almost started to cry. I am not a cryer either. The BO must think I'm a bozo.

I'm glad I've been forced to ride the trails for the last year, but I also know I'm not happy unless I'm training on something. Now I'm in a position to get back to it. I think I've learned the value of hitting the trails though, trail riding will definitely stay in my program.

I move on the first. My boss is fine with me taking a long lunch, so I'll be riding every day. Yip!

So I think my life is starting to progress in a positive direction. Little by little I'm sorting this out. You guys on the blog are an incredible help.


Hear's fyyahchild - http://www.fyyahchild.blogspot.com/



It was late in the evening after a week of rainy weather. I was trying to get Tax to relax, relax, relax. He was hot after being stalled through the worst parts of the rain. I wanted to burn off the worst of his attitude and Tax just wanted to run and buck.

As the light began to dim I abandoned the arena and took him out to the field next to our barn to see if I could get a nice trot before we ended the day.

As we came up along the fence line for the first time the neighbor tossed a bag of empty soda cans right out their front door. Talk about timing.

Tax of course decided that was as good of an excuse as he was going to get and took off. He got a couple of strides sideways before I stopped him. Mad about stopping he shot backwards and threatened to start bucking when I pushed him forward. I gave him a big smack across the back of his neck. He finally stopped and we both sat there frustrated while he craned his neck to stare at the house and whirled his ears waiting for the roar of the horse eating soda cans once more.

I got him going around again and of course the next time we came close to the fence I could feel him starting to tense. I knew another blow up was coming, but I remembered something Mugs had discussed in a post. She talked about distracting a horse to keep their attention off the scary thing just beyond the fence. Ha ha…I was going to try an experiment.

I wrapped my hand around the saddle horn (did I mention I love my western saddle for after rainy weeks) and started shaking it, shifting my weight back and forth. Suddenly Tax’s ears flipped back around. He was trying to figure out what the heck I was doing. Maybe this would work!

The second I felt his attention start to shift away again I decided to sing. I’d been listening to Hank Williams, Jr. in the truck on the way out to the barn. So shaking and belting out Family Tradition at the top of my lungs around the turn along the fence line we went. And Tax focused on me and didn’t throw the tantrum I’d felt brewing. When he relaxed I stopped moving and rode as quiet as a mouse. His stride lengthened. His head dropped and I felt his steps lighten as his back rounded. This was what I’d been waiting for since I’d hopped in the saddle.

Pushing my luck I went around the field again. Any time I felt him tense up and get ready to spook I’d start shaking and singing as loudly as I could.

“I have loved some ladies, and I have loved Jim Beam. And they both tried to kill me in 1973.” He seemed slightly disconcerted by the singing shaking thing on his back, but it sure did get his mind off acting up. Then we’d go back to a nice, quiet working trot.

I must have gone around that field 4 times alternating between sitting quietly when Tax was good and spontaneously bursting into to shaking fits of song.

“Don’t ask me, Hank, why do you drink, and why do you roll smoke? Why must you live out them songs that you wrote?”

Then I looked up to see the neighbor standing on her porch shaking herself with a fit of laughter. I smiled my biggest smile and waved like a crazy person and slunk back to my own barn.