Sammy’s Homecoming

I mentioned in my last post that it was homecoming week, but I didn’t want to talk about it until it was all said and done.  The big news is…this weekend I drove to Georgia and brought my sweet horse, Sam, home to Virginia. To make a long story incredibly short…(or, now that I’ve written it out, not so short), I’ve known Sam every day of his fourteen years, owned him since he was three years old, and brought him along to the Preliminary level myself. He was my whole life growing up. No matter the circumstances of adolescence, I always had my Sam.

My Sam boy and I before we loaded up to head to Virginia.

I spent my first two years of college at the University of West Georgia in Carrollton so I could continue to compete with the goal of completing a one-star. We were finally hitting our stride at Prelim, but our last season was foiled by abscesses and general hoof problems. Sam stayed with Mom when I left for the University of Alabama as I was 1. Really anxious to finish school as fast as possible 2. Did not have a truck and trailer of my own 3. Did not have any idea of the horse scene or know anyone in the area to consult for reference. In any case, I was a bit burned out and needed a little break.

I did not really embrace the typical college life. I felt very out of place and alone, and I found myself desperate to be with horses. I did barn work at a local farm in exchange for rides. I was fairly unhappy in Tuscaloosa, and the sweet, misunderstood horse I bonded with there got me through. I finished my last semester of college doing an internship for Mental Floss in Birmingham, Alabama. I got stuck in that city much longer than intended. Once again, lack of finances, transportation, and connections kept me from bringing Sam to me. I did some riding at a hunter jumper barn which was a learning experience on many levels.

I had realized by this time that I didn’t ride because it’s just what I’ve always done, I ride because I love it so. That break, though longer than I’d hoped, made me realize this and put me in a completely different mindset about my life with horses. Sam, meanwhile, was becoming a professional pasture pony and near constant nuisance. He was Prelim fit when I left, and Mom hoped he would pack her around Beginner Novice. Instead, my sweet Sam decided he was not interested in taking care of anybody, and got more and more disagreeable under saddle as time went on. One day, he ended up bolting and, in the heat of the moment, Mom did an emergency dismount, landed on her rear, and fractured her L1 through L4 vertebrae. When I received the phone call that she was in the hospital because of my horse’s bad behavior, I had a complete mental meltdown for worry over my mom, guilt for leaving my horse, and all around sadness for not having my Sam. After that, Sam’s workload dwindled to near nothing. While Mom tried very hard to give him plenty of attention (and succeeded in getting past her fear of him after falling), she simply did not have the time to ride multiple horses and take care of the menagerie at home, too.

Last summer, I decided enough was enough, that I was stagnating in Birmingham, and I needed to get home to my boy. I made plans to move to Newnan, continue with my freelance work, and pick back up riding and teaching. It was during the move that I was offered a full-time job at the USEA. Because I didn’t know where I was going to be living, I once again had to leave my horse behind. I rented a room on an incredible secluded farm near Middleburg and moved into a carriage house on the property in December. I had moved in with nothing but the clothes and few essential items I’d brought with me in October, and Mom and I moved my belongings later in January. We made plans to ship Sam up in March.

Then this happened. Three days before he was supposed to come home, he rendered himself unable to travel for a short time, but mostly unable to be put out in the pasture 24/7, and the window of opportunity to receive him before several consecutive weeks of work trips for myself was gone. We continued exploring different options to get Sam to Virginia once he was healthy, but they fell through one by one. One night over margaritas, I proposed to my friends “what if we just go get him ourselves?” The idea of a road trip appealed to everyone at the time, but life does get in the way of grand plans, and they could not join me. My friend Katy had me take her rig anyhow with the instructions “Go get your boy!” I cannot thank her enough for enabling me to bring Sam home. I’ve met many incredible people since moving to Middleburg, and another of them, Cortney, kindly offered to make the trip with me.

We left Middleburg at 5am last Friday morning and promptly got ourselves rerouted off the interstate and delayed an hour due to an accident. About a third of the way through the trip, we switched seats and Cortney suggested that the trailer brakes did not seem to be responding the way they probably ought to. Further inspection revealed the brake box was toast, and we’d have to take our time on the way down and wait to sort the brakes out on Saturday. Good thing I had a mechanic with me and allotted an extra day “just in case anything went wrong.”

The trip down took a solid 14 hours, and the next morning we headed into Columbus to have the brakes checked. The wiring turned out to be the issue and was causing a short. One shiny new brake box and one fancy, updated wiring system later, and we were on our way again! Since I wanted to be sure Sam had several hours of daylight to acclimate in the pasture (probably more for my sake than his), we decided to depart Georgia at 10pm Saturday night and drive straight on till morning. As I put Sam’s boots on, he seemed to sense the energy in the air. This was not just another trip to the vet’s office, and when was the last time I was the one getting him ready for a trailer ride?

We made it through the night! Sam snoozed most of the way.

Once we made it through Atlanta and I was able to eyeball Sam the first time we stopped for gas, I relaxed and settled into the drive. We gave Sam plenty of long breaks to stretch his neck out the window and offer water. He didn’t eat much hay and wasn’t interested in water, but he traveled quietly. We made pretty good time through the night, and after switching seats a couple times for much needed snoozes, we pulled over in Lexington, Virginia for our last tank of gas and a decent hot breakfast. We picnicked by the trailer while Sam, though he looked super sleepy, pulled a few mouthfuls of hay and begged for bits of bagel.

Once we pulled off of I-85, we were in the homestretch. I couldn’t help but shout at Sam throughout the trip: “Welcome to Virginia!” and “Welcome to Middleburg!” and finally, “Welcome home!” Driving down the driveway with my Sammy in tow was one of the best feelings in the world. The farm owner was there to greet us, and as Sam backed off the trailer, he took an easy look around. We pulled off his boots and threw him right out into the pasture. He barely blinked before burying his nose in a big patch of clover. Not long after, he found a mud puddle and proceeded to completely coat himself as he rolled off 14 hours of trailer time.

He never skipped a beat getting off the trailer and into the clover.

The pretty mare, Lilly, strutted over to the fence to say hello. Sam was too busy munching to notice her then, but he got a few flirts in later. He very much has the “I can take it or leave it” attitude about girls. He knows they love him. He’s too sweet not to adore! Soon, we brought Harold over. Harold is a 15-year-old Thoroughbred gelding who has longed for a good friend for a long time. We threw him right out with Sam and stood at the gate to watch (obviously, this is not the way to introduce ALL horses, but for these two, it seemed like the easiest thing). They touched noses, squealed once each, and then they were off! They trotted, they cantered, they gallivanted around the pasture like old friends. It was. PRECIOUS. Now they are practically glued to one another. They walk about the field with Harold’s face pressed against Sam’s belly. They prefer to eat from the same patch of grass. Sam is even happy to share his breakfast…we’ll have to work on that. Harold is a bit hyperactive and likes to run and play. Sam is game for a few moments, but he’s pretty chill…and pretty chunky…so he just watches Harold cavort while he munches clover: “Oh, there he goes again. I’ll just wait here.”

Sam and his new best bud, Harold.

Everyone loves sweet Sam! Katy gave him a big hug when she met him, and the farm owner says he is “a noble beast.” I am just thrilled to have my sweet boy back. He is closer than ever before. I can literally see him in his pasture from my kitchen window. It’s wonderful just to spend time with him. Brush him, sit with him. Take him for a walk up the lane. I won’t be riding him just yet. He’s been in such inconsistent work for five years, and I’m in no rush. We’ll do some hand walking for a bit to get both he and I moving and get the ground relationship solid again. Then we’ll do some easy hacking around the property before we venture out further into the countryside. The scenery will be very different to what he is used to, but if I know my Sam, he’ll take it (mostly) in stride. It feels so surreal to finally have him home, and his arrival was a long time coming. In the end, it all worked out just right. As mom says: “The order of the universe has been restored.”

Bailey’s Story Part I

This is homecoming week, but we aren’t going to talk about it until it’s all said and done. In the meantime, I’ve got another homecoming story that I’ve been meaning to share for a long time. Originally written to be posted on another blog, it has been saved on my computer since last summer. The story takes place in 2011 and chronicles the homecoming of our dear, sweet horse, Bailey.

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I was working as an assistant photographer for Mark Lehner one weekend in March [2011].  Sunday, cross-country day, was as cold and dreary as the previous day had been sunny and pleasant.  The last horse in the Novice division was heading my way near the end of the course.  As the stocky chestnut jumped into the field, it occurred to his rider that she might have missed a fence, and as she trotted in a circle to regroup, I thought to myself what a good and patient horse she had.  After the pair passed, I checked the photos I’d taken of them on my digital camera before resetting for the Beginner Novice group.

I froze, not from the cold, but from shocking recognition of the horse in the frame.  Zooming in on the photo as close as possible I thought, could it be?  He had all the right features: a big square head with a long, straight stripe from his forehead all the way to the end of his nose; a thin, wavy tail that looked scrawny and not suited for his solid body.  His legs were short but strong, and his movement was characteristically choppy.  The one tell-tale sign of his identity was not visible from the angle of the photograph, but I had a good feeling in my gut.

Agape, I stared hard as the horse crossed the finish line and made a turn towards stabling.  I ached to run after him and wished I had a pair of binoculars, but I would have to wait another couple hours to investigate.  The moment the camera shutter clicked on the final passing competitor, I leapt into the car and drove anxiously to the photographer’s trailer.  Tossing my memory card full of the day’s photos over to Mark to be  sorted and uploaded, I made a beeline for the viewing computers to look up more photos of the horse with the familiar face.  I wanted to examine his chestnut butt; I was looking for something specific to prove it was him.  And there it was: an oddly placed, black ”birthmark” the size of a toddler’s fist clearly visible to left of his tail.  Quickly punching out a text message to Mom, I imagined the look on her face when she read it.  After six years of grieving and searching, “I found Bailey.”

Maybe it was dumb luck, maybe it was fate, but I just happened to be working at one of the few events in the south Bailey had attended.  Ever since we had sold him, we regretted it.  Bailey was part of the family, and we’d been trying for years to find him and, if possible, get him back.  As it happens, our sweet Quarter Horse had been sold more than once since he left us, and the only lead we had was he might be foxhunting in Hyde Park, New York.  Then, after one lucky sighting, I had his new name and, after a quick search in the USEA database, his owner’s email address.  I sent her a quick note expressing our happiness to know our Bailey was happy, healthy, and still eventing.

Bailey joined our family when he was five years old.  He belonged to a student of mine whose college classes cut into barn time, so I filled in the gaps, riding him on the days between her lessons.  Bailey has excellent, promising bloodlines for a cutting horse (his grandad is Doc O’Lena), but he grew too large for his intended life as a cow-pony and was eventually found and purchased by my student.  He was quiet, easy, agreeable.  I spent a lot of time with him on the longe line, teaching him voice commands and building strength through transitions and self-carriage.  My Thoroughbred Sam was, at the time, a snarky 6-year-old that had decided he’d been too easy-going as a youngster and was out to make me pay.  Riding Sam was, at the time, a constant challenge to not just stick to the tack, but to have any fun at all.  I grew to appreciate Bailey’s laid back work ethic and his knack for wicking away the stress of bringing along a headstrong Thoroughbred.

One evening as I sat alone in my room, Mom opened the door and let herself in.  She was wearing a silly, suspicious grin.  She sat down next to me, silent and smiling, letting the suspense build up until I shouted, “what? what is it?”  She answered, “I bought Bailey.”  To this day she doesn’t remember how much she paid for him, or what possessed her to buy a horse on impulse.  All she can say is that she knew we had to have him, and that was that.

Just a few days after Mom’s big announcement, my first horse, a proud redheaded mare named Breezy, died suddenly in the pasture.  Moments before, I had watched her leading the charge in an afternoon fly-by with the herd.  I had retired her from competition, but at 20 years old, she was as healthy and ornery as ever, semi-tolerating teaching the occasional lesson and hacking about the farm with me.  I was tacking up Bailey when the barn owner came inside. He approached me and said, “Don‘t freak out.  Breezy is dead.”

I left Bailey standing in the cross-ties, dodged the outstretched arms of the farm help, and demanded to know where my Breezy was.  She was lying under a young cedar tree not far from the gate.  There was no evidence of pain or struggle.  She had simply laid down and left us.  I stayed with her until she’d been buried under the tree where she’d fallen.  Someone else had untacked Bailey and put him away in a stall.  No horse could ever replace Breezy, but somehow, with sentiment and love only a horse can give, Bailey made it a little easier to move on.

I graduated high school a year or so later.  Bailey had proven himself to be a solid Novice level event horse.  His dressage wasn’t stellar, but he was a point-and-shoot jumper with snappy knees and smart intuition.  He and Sam complimented each other in style, and I was picking up good placings in competitive divisions on both horses.  I had a full semester before starting college and picked up a working student gig in Hamilton, Georgia.  Mom happened to get a new job, and off we went together to an unfamiliar town.  At the time we had three horses, three dogs, and five cats.  We didn’t have much time to search for a boarding facility within our means and were tight on funds after moving.  We ended up having to sell Bailey.  A little girl tried him after an event at Poplar Place, and the family took him home the same day.  As the trailer pulled down the gravel driveway and out of sight, Mom sobbed.  I think she would have called off the sale right then if she could.  Bailey was good to us. He was part of the family, and we had let him go.  We were consumed with guilt for the next six years.

Bailey had a good life after us.  He went on to be a champion junior hunter in Florida, which surprised everyone who had known him as an eventer.  He was a bit big for the little girl, and apparently not so keen on arena life.  He was sold to an adult amateur in New York, where he experienced foxhunting and continued eventing at Novice.  We hadn’t known if he was eventing at all anymore, but he had a lengthy competition record in the Northeast.  Then briefly, he and his rider took a trip South during the winter months, and that’s when he galloped right into frame in front of me.

After a few of friendly emails between his owner, Mom, and myself, we asked that if she ever thought to sell him, please let us know.  We had no expectations, we just threw it out there just in case.  A few weeks later, she emailed me to say she intended to sell and was happy to think Bailey might go to a home where he was already loved.  I called Mom immediately.  She didn’t answer.  I sent her a text: “Bailey is for sale!”  She stepped out of whatever meeting she was in to call me back, greeting me with “you better not be pulling my leg.”  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, and no way would we pass up this opportunity to bring Bailey home.  And this time, we weren’t going to screw it up.  Mom and I had a few serious financial discussions and made an offer.  She accepted.  Bailey was coming home.

In the weeks leading up to his arrival, it felt too good to be true.  Mom had a previously scheduled vacation to the Grand Canyon to get through, and the Equine Herpesvirus scare forced us to make very careful arrangements for the trip.  We met the shipper at a gas station off the interstate at 6:30 a.m. on a crisp June morning just a few days before Bailey’s birthday [June 20].  When we dropped the trailer window to say hi before continuing down the back roads to the farm, he poked out his big familiar head to look around, bright-eyed and curious.

Bailey settled in so well, it almost feels like he never left.  New adventures have already begun: Bailey’s got a girlfriend, plays a good right guard, and the motley crew is making plenty of mischief.  The family feels complete again.

His AQHA registered name is Bailey Slice. I evented him under the name Bailiwick.
Shannon Brinkman photo, used with permission.

Bailey came home after six years away. He settled right in. Not long after this photo was taken, Sam and Gamble came galloping up to the fence to greet him. We’re certain they remembered each other.

Bailey was fit as a fiddle when he came home. He jogged around a bit, then settled right in. It was like he never left. It just felt right.

Do Not Read with Lunch, Zeb.

Rip off half his foot, horse stays sound. Twist a shoe and sting himself with a nail, lame. And pitiful. So very pitiful.

Sammy hadn’t been shod for an ungodly eight weeks after his suspicious self mutilation. He finally got new shoes and the next day twisted the shoe on his good front foot and bled a little from a nail hole. Mom said the Auburn colors were by “accident,” but given how much time she’s spent cleaning, medicating, and bandaging Sam’s feet lately…I wouldn’t put a joke or two past her. “Designer look!” was the accompanying message to the following photo…

Sam jacked his shoe up on April 4th. The day prior his boo-boo looked like…

The black stuff is medication that hasn’t come off yet. Since the cream (which forms a fairly durable barrier) has to be scrubbed off in order to clean and reapply, it winds up bleeding and looking redder and scarier than it actually is.

April 8th was the first time I saw the wound in person while I was in Georgia announcing at the Chattahoochee Hills Horse Trials.  He really did a number on himself (still no idea how), but it is not as awful looking in person as it is in a photo. Plus, it is a lot smaller and a ton of hoof has grown back there on the south side.  It’s clearly a bit deformed and there will be a crack between the old hoof and new hoof that will grow down and have to be managed with supportive shoeing. The hoof should ultimately look normal again, but the vet thinks the bulb will probably always look a little funny.  I wonder if the hair on his coronary band will grow back normal, if at all?

In the photo above, taken on April 13th, it looks great! Much less bleeding after cleaning, no proud flesh, and it looks like it’s really healing from the inside out.  Even just a few days after seeing it myself it looks less awful…except his hoof looks all gnarly down by the shoe. Ugh. He exhausts me…I’ll add “order more Keratex” to my to-do list.

After the initial rounds of antibiotics and using the cream the vet prescribed, we ordered Equaide at the recommendation of a friend. I found nothing but positive reviews online, and Mom swears it’s a miracle medicine.  It healed the bit of proud flesh that had appeared and has since kept any new from forming. Equaide looks like something the creature from the black lagoon might like to take a bath in. It’s pearl black (kind of pretty actually), and just a little bit goes a long way.

Silly Sam has been soaking up the daily attention he gets from his “Maj” (short for her Her Majesty…yes, Mom picked the name out). Really, though, Mom has been awesome taking care of my sweet boy and been very gracious about the insane changing travel plans.

For being a pasture pony for so long, he still looks so handsome! He’s always had a lovely shiny coat, a sexy cresty neck (thanks in part to Gamble taking six inches of his neck between his teeth when Sam was five resulting in a conveniently located chunk of scar tissue), and a great butt! He’s shedding out his teddy bear winter hair and feels so soft and sleek.

Sam is a quirky kid (he’s so mine!). His drinking bucket is behind him in the corner, but his dunking bucket is hanging on the wall next to his nibble net there. He likes to flavor his hay with a little H2O.

For several weeks, Sam has been wrapped just while in the stall at night. Now he is going unwrapped 24/7 (hooray!) but still needs daily cleaning and medication. I’m really hopeful the wound will be mostly closed up within the next few weeks. He did have to be separated from Gamble as Mom and Sue came back to the barn after a trail ride and found the two goobers stallion fighting over the fence between their walkabouts. Although they were just playing, neither Mom, Sue, nor I could handle the stress of the risk…he should just live in a bubble.

I can’t wait for my sweet boy to come home. Kisses, kisses.

Thanks everyone who has continually asked about him and helped me keep my brain between my ears throughout the ordeal. xoxo

1, 2, 3…

Looking very stoic halfway through Novice show jumping…

Suddenly, Mark appears with his camera!

Yay.

Hoofclix.com

Naughty Pony

My dear Sam was supposed to move to Virginia this spring, and his little nose would live just a few steps from my front porch.  Plans were made, plans changed.  I’ve been griping about it, so here’s the story up to this point.

My Sam and I have been separated for five years, seeing each other only when I went home to visit or cover an event nearby.  I was moving back to Georgia from Alabama when I was offered the job in Virginia.  Despite aching to be with him again, I opted to leave Sam in Georgia for the winter and bring him up in the spring.  I felt like I was being a good mom.  His feet had been doing so well, getting stronger with regular treatments and good shoeing.  He would be living outside in Virginia, and combined with the usual cold, snowy winters in NOVA, I didn’t want him to back track.  I thought ‘don’t throw him into a heavy winter he’s never experienced’ and ‘let his feet have a little more time to get stronger.’

It was hard to leave him, but I thought it right.  Then of course Virginia had its mildest winter in years, with just a few dustings of snow, and temperatures comparable to back home.  Wtf.

Early this year I started coordinating his trip.  Since I’ll be traveling most of April, I felt like March would be an appropriate arrival time for him so I could be around while he settles.  The other option was waiting until May.  We used Rachel Devita-Anderson at Town n Country Transport to bring Bailey down from New York last June.  She’s very attentive to the horses, is on time and professional, and we trust her.  I refused to book any transporter but her to bring my Sam home.  We had it all set up.  The prices were reasonable (there were to be two other horses on the trailer coming to the same location), the dates were set and flexible, the contracts signed, etc.  I was so excited.

I’m a bit of a basket case about Sam these days.  I have an absolute meltdown anytime something goes wrong.  Since leaving him to finish school, Sam has been generally healthy aside from his crap feet, a tick in his sheath (yea, ouch.), and other mystery injuries ponies pick up.  Honestly though, as laid back as he is, he’s extremely high maintenance.  Allergy shots, thyroid medication, treating his feet, managing his slippery stifles.  Sheesh. Mom has been very gracious taking care of my boy, who’s been a brilliant, handsome, fat pasture ornament for the better part of the last five years.

So when Mom called me the Tuesday before Sam was supposed to come home (I’d been telling everyone and their brother, grinning like a kid and demanding we have a party to celebrate his arrival) she went through the “now don’t freak out, Sam’s ok, but” and my heart sunk.  We aren’t entirely sure how it happened, but during the night while he was hanging out in his walkabout behind his stall, he either rolled or laid down or tripped or something silly, and upon standing again, he flipped his foot over the gate, got stuck, yanked back, and ripped up his left front foot.  I’m told the angle of the blood spatter was wrong for him to have been playing games with Gamble over the fence.  So the ding-dong did it to himself.

The pictures are pretty gnarly so I wouldn’t scroll down the page any further if you’re squeamish.

He ripped up part of the bulb of his heel, yanked a chunk off the side of his hoof, and did some damage to his coronary band.  This is the first picture I received.

Brilliant.

Mom warned me he probably wouldn’t be able to travel, which was confirmed by the vet when she saw him.  They had to cut the loose piece off, it could not be stitched back.  He was put on antibiotics, wrapped up, and put in the stall.  He wasn’t happy being in the stall with his walkabout closed up, and he could do more damage being upset in the stall, so he started spending a few hours outside during the day when it was dry.  No painkillers for that kid though, we didn’t want him to feel good and cut up in the pasture.

Yuk.  Below is March 9th, three days after the incident.

March 14…

March 21…

I chatted with the transporter and the owner of the other horses.  They were very gracious and we rescheduled them to travel two weeks later depending on how Sam healed.

Well, when the time came, he was healthy enough to travel but not well enough to go straight outside in wet weather.  The wound had to remain wrapped still, and we couldn’t risk him playing with the new horses in the pasture and f’ing it up even more.  So last weekend, the horses he was meant to travel with arrived in Virginia, and my baby boy is still at home, bothering his grandma.

I’ve waited this long to be reunited with my boy, and I’m trying trying to be a good mom and make the right choices for him even though I miss him terribly and want to smother him with kisses and stuff him with carrots.  The good thing is he will heal, the injury could have been worse, and he’s been sound the whole time.  In fact, I’m told he doesn’t appear to be at all concerned about his injury, he’s just pleased to be getting undivided attention.  The wound is healing and we are managing the proud flesh.  By next week it should be able to be unwrapped during the day and wrapped only at night when he is in the stall.  I’m hoping we get all the details of his arrival sorted soon.  Then. Then we will party.

Short and Sweet

Work is awesome. Srsly enjoying all things horses.

Virginia – Also awesome. Srsly enjoying…well…almost all things horses.

Pilates – I can sit up straight and it isn’t uncomfortable!  Plus, no shin splints. Hooray!

Zombies – I played one in a movie last weekend. Out until the sun came up. Bought coffee at the Shell covered in fake blood and kept a complete straight face. I’m not allowed to post any pics though, sorry.

Most important -

SAMMY COMES HOME IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!

Look, My Boy!!

It’s taking forever to unpack all my boxes.  I keep finding photo albums, letters, books, and videos to peruse as I go.  One discovered treasure is a video of me and Sam competing Novice in 2005.  Palmer kindly gave me permission to upload and share it.

Just prior to this competition, Sam had been going through a snarky phase on cross-country – a stop, rear, and spin phase, actually.  This show was a huge triumph for us, as we ended up winning the division, leading the whole way on our dressage score of 29.  It was the Midsouth Three-Day Event and Team Challenge at the Kentucky Horse Park.  Sam and I had been placed on a team, but we were not expected to finish.

Boo-yah.

Sam was so fit and strong – he looks smashing in his dressage test.  The second half is better than the first, as he tends to dive onto the forehand.  The trot serpentine and transitions picked him up, and he has some super nice moments.  The canter could have used a bit more “oomph,” but my boy’s got a free walk that could kill.

I’ll mention briefly my wretched leg position on the flat.  My right leg is all jacked up, and my stirrups could have been three holes longer.  Ugh.

The footing on cross-country was wet and torn up, so I let him pick a pace, tried to focus on keeping him balanced in the turns, and gave him regular, significant reminders to not be an ass.  He gets a bit close on a few (and my shoulders fall forward on a few), but he was going, happily.  At the end, we were so well up on the time that I did several circles.  I’m plenty aware of the appropriate Novice level pace, but he was comfortable at his quick little clip – I did not want to disrupt him.

There is nothing like crossing the finish line to an outburst of cheers.  When Mom appeared she was crying, as usual.  The show jumping didn’t get filmed for some reason, but he had a fine round.  He clipped the last fence pretty hard, and we were only leading by 0.5.  It bounced, but it stayed up.

I’m loving finding these videos and watching our progression over the years.  Sam is scheduled to arrive in Virginia in March.  I can’t wait to have my boy back!

Published Photos

I’ve had two new ‘cover photos’ published!  Woohoo!

The USEF 2012 Rulebook was a surprise to me.  That’s Amy Barrington and Gallerone on their way to a win at the 2011 AEC.  Get a copy of the rule book at the USEA Store.

I LOVE the new USEA Member Cards.  I’ve known about this one for a while, but I had to keep it a secret until they were mailed out.  So pretty!

Both of these products were designed by the amazing Dara Bailey.

Beautiful Virginia

The Blue Ridge Mountains Skyline Drive – Shenandoah National Park

No Alarm Clock Day…

…and I still woke up at 9.

I’ve been whooped.  Things have been moving very quickly lately, so I don’t feel bad about a few 8pm bedtimes this last week.  The Virginian’s have been keeping me up late other days.  Like, REALLY late.  Like, flat tire at 5am and it’s snowing outside late.

I like Virginia.

When I moved here in October, I brought only clothes and other essentials…like the Playstation 3 because Skyrim was coming out soon…Two weeks ago I sold a kidney so I could afford to fly back to Georgia (cost four bucks a minute, just saying) to get my furniture and things.

I spent a couple of days sorting and organizing.  We picked up the Penske truck, which we dubbed Penny Lane, on Friday morning.  I had rented the 16 footer because it cost no more than the 14 footer, and I didn’t want to leave anything behind due to space issues.  Turned out we could have made it with 10 ft, but we’d have had to work a lot harder to load it.  Since we were getting on the road same day and wanted to get at least half way before stopping for the night, we did very little vertical packing.  We shoved everything in, like horizontal Tetris, and hoofed it out of there.

Did I mention it was my birthday?

We stopped off in Columbia, SC and grabbed a couple drinks at Outback (classy!).  On the road again at 7am, an hour later we stopped at South of the Border.  I’d been at SOTB once before…I was six weeks old and we were moving from Rhode Island to Dad’s new post in Charleston.  24 years later, it’s grown, Mom says, and I could only stand so much cheese for 30 minutes or so.

Before we reached the Virginia border I took back the driver’s seat so Mom could see the countryside.  We rolled into the faery farm around 4pm, unloaded nothing, and went to dinner in my landlady’s home.

I’ve met some really groovy, amazing people in Virginia.  They threw me a fabulous birthday celebration.  Jerusalem artichoke soup, pasta with pepper sauce, salad, and carrot cake.  And my gifts…

For one thing, I don’t buy Balvenie for myself, it’s too good.

I have some now.

On New Year’s we had played dress up in Charlottesville at a friend’s vintage store (I still have no fashion sense, but I have a new appreciation for vintage.  Not only are vintage clothes beautiful and unique, but they’re made from good materials and for women made of breasts and hips.  I am not shaped like a boy, Abercrombie.)  Anyway, I tried on this incredible red dress that I ended up not buying for sake of my pocket book.  My friends pitched in and surprised me on my birthday.  Hubba hubba!

And with my classy dress came a classy, classy card.

Yes…

We did finally do some unpacking.  The real success of the trip was the tv made it without injury or technical difficulty.  The first thing we put on the wall was, fittingly, Breezy’s painting that Noni did for me years ago.  It’s been hanging in my bedroom in Georgia because I was too afraid to move it around during and after college.  I am thrilled to have Breezy here with me now.

I can almost see the floor through the boxes.  It’s slow going unpacking everything.  I nearly broke my leg getting wedged between two plastic storage things and falling on my face.  But it’s coming together.

Sam is the last step.  Although there is snow on the ground at this moment, it’s been a mild winter for the region.  Just got to get through February, and then we’ll be making plans to get him here before the eventing season is in full swing and I find myself traveling for work.  Sam will love it here, and I’ll love having his sweet nose only a few steps from my front porch after five years of complete separation.