I’ve missed a few days.
I get busy with things.
And then the busy-ness blows away like leaves in a breeze.
Funny how life ebbs and flows. Comes and goes.
I’m showing my art on June 21st. It’ll be my first.
If you’re in southern California, come out. It’s in Temecula @relentlessbrewing from 6-9:00 PM.
Shopped at Costco yesterday and the receipt checker asked, “did you show your ID at checkout when you bought that alcohol?” She didn’t believe our ages. Me at 40, Steven at 32. Said we look like babies.
I had to pull out my ID to prove it.
I’ll be 41 on October 8.
Don’t worry, I drew a Libra for the show to self-represent.
I haven’t been writing as much.
I need to keep writing so much.
Tomorrow I’m planning an art outing. Socializing. Trying to see and be seen.
The more time goes by the less I want to leave my mountain-side.
I could see myself hiding out here for a few months without leaving. If I had enough food to do it.
Which reminds me, I’m making more of Dora’s food.
Raw meat blend, garbanzo beans, mixed veggies (cauliflower, carrots, broccoli), blueberries. She’s thriving.
What 13-year-old dog do you know who still does zoomies in bed every night?
I’m brushing her teeth tooth every day. She seems to enjoy it, lays back in my lap and just waits for me to start poking and prodding, fingers in her mouth she sits relaxed with me.
Watched a video of an equestrian demonstrating what it looks like when her horse gives consent to be ridden, or not. And that she always respects it.
I always wished I would find other equestrians like that when I was still riding. I stopped looking at the horse world for so long I don’t know if that’s a common thread now, or just easier to find because of the internet.
Was telling Sonny one day, “you know I used to team pen?!”
We had a good laugh about it.
“Yeah, I’d show up in a dressage saddle, no stirrups, on a little pony-sized horse. The laughing stock next to all these cowboys. And we’d usually end up winning.”
It’s hard to beat a small horse at fast tasks.
I sold my favorite horse once, and was able to buy him back a few years later. Something had happened in all that time, made him sour about a lot of things.
Made him afraid of a bit in his mouth, afraid of what you were going to do with the reins.
So I stopped riding him until I could find some bitless bridle options. Tried them all out and asked him what he thought. He’s always been pretty good at giving an unfiltered opinion.
Sometimes I’d play around riding him with just a rope slung around his neck. He’d go by what I was telling him with my seat (balance) and legs.
When I sold him, the lady turned around to make a profit back off of him and sold him to a nice family in Missouri. I couldn’t find him after the sale and that was pretty heart breaking.
Then I got a call out of the blue, the gentleman who bought him for his wife had some questions. They couldn’t figure out how to make him walk forward. The more they prodded the more he’d dig in and not move.
“Oh. Yep, he’s kind of trained backwards. When you want him to walk you release pressure instead of applying it. Most people kick to make the horse go, but he’ll stop if you squeeze his sides hard. It’s a safety mechanism… if you lose your balance and start to fall off you’re gonna squeeze with your legs. Wouldn’t it be nice if all horses were taught to stop when that happens instead of speed up?”
“He just thinks you’re falling off and needs to make sure you’re safe.”
We talked for hours on the phone. He invited me out to see him and maybe help. I was on the other side of the country and couldn’t go.
Months later, things changed, and was living in Wisconsin again. Just a few states away, an easy drive.
He called again, “would you be interested in buying him back?”
There’s an uncanny thing I’ve noticed in my life. I don’t know how, but I always manage to get by. Money-wise.
I was broke, had no idea how to make it work. And it ended up working out. I had a lot of help to do it, but it was help I never would have guessed would be available.
Until it was.
The universe keeps conspiring to see me succeed in this life.
I eventually found a great bitless bridle that he really liked. It was pretty close to a halter in it’s design, but a better fitting noseband that was adjustable. And leather.
He’s an old man now, retired in a pasture with my parents. He can walk right up and say hello through the windows of their house, and has a miniature horse friend, named Molly.
It’s strange to picture him as a 27 year old.
25 years together, mostly. Bought him when he was just 2 years old. A silly stud colt who couldn’t stand still in the cross-ties. A habit he never fully outgrew.
My first riding instructor always had walls of pictures and artwork of horses, shows, events, experiences in her house. They’d follow her out into the barn eventually, too. She collected bottles of sand and water from all the different beaches she’d visit.
I didn’t get it until just now.
