Let's be brief, but with a video!

I only have one thought today: I'm going to Culpeper, VA to horse show on Friday and there is no rain forecasted. This will be the first time in like 10 years that I haven't gone to that place and been knee-deep in mud.

Also, Google+ is my new favorite time waster. This week.

And finally, this. I'd actually gone looking for Anyone Can Whistle videos, but this is way funnier:

The Pony.

Enter the Dundysaurus Rex. Also known as "Dundy," "Dunda-roo" (said in the same fashion as "Figarooooo"), and when we're fancy, "Maybe This Time." The current equine love of my life, who appeared one day in our barn about 3 years ago. I say appeared because Shelly forgot to tell me that there was a new boarder coming in, so I walked in one day and there was this huge freak-show of a horse spinning circles in his stall. It was not love at first sight. I honestly found him annoying, as his stall was located right next to the ring entrance and he'd pin his ears at everyone who went by and enjoyed running his teeth along the wall. The only redeeming qualities were that he was big and grey (I'm a sucker).

The following spring I lost Dunn in a pasture accident, which pretty much sent me into an emotional freakout. I Then Nylar contracted EPM in early June, and I spent 6 weeks on a roller coaster before finally having to make the decision to euthanize him. At that point I was exhausted, an emotional trainwreck, and contemplating life without horses for a while. But I still had to work, so one day that August I was standing next to Shelly watching Madison walk Dundy in circles. And then he picked up a trot and I looked at Shelly and told her that I was booting the kids off him, he was mine. And I will be forever grateful that I had a camera the first time I got to canter him, that video makes me smile every time I see it. (Trotting Dundy, not so fun. Cantering Dundy - best thing EVER)

And so for almost 2 years, he's been mine (the best sort - the farm actually owns him). I have learned to attach my butt to my saddle on the approach to a fence and "ride like a German" so that I don't get launched (Dundy does not suffer fools over fences, or a half-seat position). Dundy has learned that perhaps SOMETIMES he can help a girl out when the distance isn't perfect, even if the jump is big. And we both have mellowed ourselves out emotionally - he still pins his ears at the horses in the barn, but he also hangs his head over the stall door when he hears me talking in the aisle. I've managed to keep breathing every time he comes in a little lame from being too rowdy with his boys in the field, and just roll my eyes when he stresses himself into a frenzy over something.

And now Dundy is teaching me dressage. Which will be documented via photos on Facebook thanks to one of my teenagers and her really nice camera. Once I've sorted it all in my head I'll blog about the struggle to switch from 21 years of hunters into something that passes as not embarrassing at dressage, but right now it's mostly Shelly yelling at me to shorten my reins so it's not particularly entertaining to the non-horsey set.

In honor of Father's Day

Things my father learned to do because of my crazy hobby:

1. Drive a truck and trailer with 2 large horses, neither of whom is particularly interested in standing up properly. Bonus points for knowing how to remove divider in trailer so that particularly fussy horse can be turned around and walked out head-first instead of backing up.

2. Muck a stall. Bonus points for mucking Dunn's stall every day (except when Shelly and Cindy beat him to it) when he was on stall rest and I was recovering from carpal tunnel surgery. Extra bonus points for all the days he didn't go home and change first, and mucked the stall in his shirt and suit pants (usually with tie still on).

3. Tack up a horse. Despite the fact that my dad does in fact know how to ride, he learned how to saddle and bridle long before he started taking lessons. My early instructor was barely 5' tall, and therefore thought nothing of putting her 10 and 11 year old students on horses over 16 hands. Dad learned how to stick his arm up and bring an evading horse's head down in the very early days of my riding career (anyone remember Billy?).

4. Ride a horse. After years of driving the carpool and helping me get ready for lessons, he signed up at a barn closer to our house "just to see what the big deal was." Sadly, after a couple falls and a couple broken bones, I don't think he ever really saw what I did. And then he took up tennis and never sat on a horse again.

5. Proper use of bungee cords, duct tape, and extension cords to set up horse show stalls. Bonus points for knowing what height to hang buckets at in the stalls, and always remembering extra screw-eyes and double-end snaps.

6. Smile when Saturdays and Sundays (including Father's Day, every year) meant heat stroke (literally on one occasion), 16 hour days, and a daughter who probably didn't say thank you as often as she should have!

Things they don't teach you.

Every kid in my barn wants to turn pro when they grow up. Far be it for me to tell them they shouldn't, although they have no idea what they're in for. I knew I'd be okay when I decided to go for it because at that point I'd been teaching since junior year of high school. Which is a good thing, since going to college for an equine degree did not prepare me for the reality of working in this industry. Teaching classes, lots of barn time, not at all what you need to know. Here's the reality:

1. Liking horses is not going to make you good at this job. Everyone likes horses (except for a few of my weirdo friends who are afraid of them.) Do you ride well? Can you teach well? Can you deal with overstressed, overscheduled parents who don't understand that although they're paying for a half hour of your time, the child needs to be in the barn for at least an hour if they want to actually RIDE that half hour? Can you deal with children who are angry because they didn't get the pony they wanted to ride, afraid of a jump they cleared beautifully 5 minutes earlier, or insane from the field trip they went on at school and oh by the way had like 12 pixie sticks on the way to the farm?

2. Do you have a degree in adolescent psychology? No? Learn fast. You're dealing with hormones that you will NOT remember from your own teen years, plus adding in the equine brain just for an extra dose of crazy. Ever seen a teenage girl have a meltdown over something that happened 2 weeks prior at school while her horse is in heat and acting like an enormous freak show? It requires a VERY careful hand because someone very well could die, and it might be you if you say the wrong thing.

3. Don't worry about lesson plans. I did lesson plans for the first 6 months I taught. The crazy detailed ones that I was taught to do in college. Then I realized that 90% of the time I ended up changing the plan once I got there and realized that either the child, the horse, or a combination of both plus the wind, moon cycle, and tide changes were going to make that lesson inappropriate that day. Have a baseline for what you'd like to accomplish, but learn to improvise well.

4. This is supposed to be fun. Parents pay you to teach the child how to ride, but if that child isn't having a good time, it's all over. It doesn't matter how burnt out you are, how exhausted the 5 lessons prior made you, whether you're bummed because you were too busy to get your own riding in, you better learn how to suck it up and at least ACT like you're having a good time. I feel like a professional cheerleader in a lot of lessons, but if the kid leaves smiling, it's all good.

So there you go. Take acting, take psychology, go out for cheerleading. Maybe a few business classes, you'll be ahead of most of the industry if you can run a successful, profitable barn. Regardless of what you do, you're going to work harder than you ever thought possible, you're going to learn to love your days off (they happen approximately 4 times a year, or if it thunderstorms, snows, or is above 100 degrees/below 30), and you'll come up with a million other things you should've taken in college besides riding.