Yesterday

Let's just get it out there - I've been terribly remiss about writing. I'm now going to let myself feel guilty about it for one entire minute.

...

There. We're past it, right?

Here's the thing. Yesterday was one of those days that I just have to get down in writing so that when I'm old and grey and reminiscing about the wonderful days when my family was young and the world was still so full of possibility and promise, I will remember that sometimes, those young, possibility-filled days were just ass. Pure and simple.

The day started off normal enough. The morning routine went down as usual, except that I was a little extra stressed because today the fur baby, Momes, was going in for an operation. If you know the Momes you'll understand that this is a very serious situation for his breed and for him especially (a dog with 9 lives, most of which he's already used up). He's likely under the knife right now and I don't care to discuss it. Will update later - moving on.

So I'm on edge about that. But we get ourselves together and we make it to daycare and work without incident. Sweet.

Morning at work goes as well as possible for someone who essentially feels like she's juggling three full time jobs. Job #1 - parent. Job # 2 - my job. Job #3 - trying to buy a new house. Whatevs, we're dealing as well as can be expected, if anyone has figured out the best way to work three full-time jobs at once without feeling a little STRESSED about it. Leave a comment.

I was actually quite excited about my lunch hour! Tuesdays are my riding lesson days and this means that I don't go to the gym on my lunch break. Oh, the possibilities! I can walk around, I can shop, I can eat somewhere out of the office. It's the best lunch hour of my week. Yesterday I decided that since pay day approaches and somehow I managed to keep a couple hundred bucks in my account, I'd treat myself to a little retail therapy to cheer myself up and relieve some stress.

Off to Zara! New shirt. So lovely. And you know what? Retail therapy really worked. I felt better. I'd budgeted for it and thought about it since my last pay. I was proud of myself for limiting it to just one, reasonably-priced item that I really liked. I would wear it when I went for drinks with friends on Friday! It was all coming together.

Back to the office for a busy afternoon of meetings. That actually helped because it kept my mind off the impending dog surgery and let me relax a little and talk creative business with my amazing colleagues. Thank God for them, they really do always help to make my day. But as the day wound down, the stress came back. By the time I was leaving the office, I felt a little nauseous from it all, I get spacey and tired when I'm stressed and I start to do stupid things.

Stupid things like leaving my brand-new shirt on the subway.

Fuck.

$40 dollars and the joy of a new item that was well earned and well deserved. FLUSH.

In over 10 years of commuting on the TTC I have NEVER done that before. Well, maybe the odd umbrella or pair of gloves, but never an entire shopping bag! Ever. I was so mad at myself when I realized it and SO utterly bummed. My entire so-so day was ruined. Silly to get upset over a $40 shirt, but it was the last one in my size. It was so pretty. And really? I don't have another $40 to replace it and I certainly didn't have an extra $40 to LEAVE ON THE SUBWAY.

So I get home and allow myself a five minute cry. Then it's time to suck it up because I have riding to get to for 7:30pm. A jumping lesson so I can't be despondent and distracted. I must be focused and eager. I make it to the barn and already am feeling better. I'm always cheered up by my horses. I'm assigned to one of my very favourites, a big, beautiful mare named Seven. Things are looking up! The lesson was great fun. We jumped verticals and rode a course. As always, after class I felt relaxed, happy and tired. Ready to go home, go to bed with my book and prepare for the tense day ahead (today).

Jump in the car, whip home, go to pull into my underground parking garage. The door is open, which is odd, but I pull in only to find a woman standing on the ramp waving her arms at me to stop and pull over. WTF? I roll down my window, get hit with a wave of stink, and she walks up and says, "Smell that? There's a skunk trapped down here. You might want to think about parking elsewhere so your car doesn't get sprayed."

A fucking skunk? In the UNDERGROUND parking lot? That's right. You can't make this shit up.

For a moment, I consider just parking there anyway. What are the chances that he'll go anywhere near my car? So I pull forward a bit 'til I can see my spot. And what is walking around frantically in circles IN my spot? Correct. Senior Skunk. I back the fuck out of the parking garage. NO WAY am I risking getting sprayed by skunk on a day that already stinks.

Though I briefly considered moving the car to the visitor lot, I opt for the street instead because the skunk is down there, he's pissed and who is to say that he won't run to the visitors section? The way my day is going, I'm getting sprayed for sure. I park on the street, go home and go to bed.

This morning? $30 ticket. But the car smells great.

Please send good vibes my way that my string of bad luck is over? My Momes needs all the help he can get.

Enjoy the Silence

I know. I KNOW. I've been a terrible blogger.

Truth is, I'm only writing right now because I feel a nagging, persistent, relentless twinge of guilt at having not written in so long. I know it's been long enough for people to stop reading - and so then it kind of becomes "what's the point"? Well, at least I thought I should type a few words so that blogger doesn't shut me down.

Do they do that if you don't write for a long time? I'm such a bad blogger that I don't even know.


Here's a quickie update for anyone who cares:

Shit is going down at work. My company has been purchased and so the job that I love very much, that I've been doing for close to six years, is suddenly in jeopardy. Should know what's up with that by the end of the summer. That's a little stressful, but what can you do?

I'm still riding. Had my first near injury last week while riding a new horse, Valentine. He head-butted me in the face. That's right. In the face. You know what sucks? Getting head-butted in the face by a big horse.

Recently spent a heavenly week up at the cottage. Amazing. Full-on beach days in May? What's better? GTs.

Crown and I opened our roof last weekend. A lot of work but it's looking swell. Complete with three lovely potted cedars and shiny new BBQ. Not quite finished yet, but we're ready for the summer party season. Bring it.

I've been trying to be healthy since debauchery at the cottage. This includes: no drinking, no refined sugars and, AND, I've quit smoking. Crown quit over three months ago and so I final just said, "Why"? It's stupid and I'm done. But I miss it and I intend to get really fat by substituting with many crunchy snack foods. Does that cancel out the healthy part?

The Momes? Is awesome. Here's a recent picture of the little one suffering the effects of cottagitis for you to enjoy until I guilt myself into writing again. Until then, enjoy the silence.

Working for the Weekend

Hello. My name is Beaches and it has been 37 days since my last horse post.

I wanted to write a quick weekend wrap-up because it was full of so many GTs (good times), but realized that despite the fact that this weekend contained almost all of my favourite activities, the damn horse riding still comes out on top. This is really saying a lot people, because when I say this weekend included almost all of my favourites things, I really mean it.

For example, this weekend included but was not limited to, the following amazing things:

• poker
• winning at poker
• peanut m&ms
• sunshine
• red wine
• staying in bed in the morning drinking coffee and reading the paper
• QT with BFFs
• vodka-red bull-sodas with lime
• mint chocolate chip ice cream cake
• a clean house (lame but I thrive on honesty)
• fresh flowers
• dancing to house music
• wearing a new top
• The Body Blitz Spa. Oh, my sweet Jesus Lord, the Body Blitz Spa
• lunch in the sun, on the patio, french fries included
• Arrested Development
• more mint chocolate chip ice cream cake
• more peanut m&ms

Now, you have to admit, those are some DAMN good things. Even Martha wouldn't dispute on this one. Yet still, the horses. The horses stole the show. This week was my third private lesson. I rode a new horse, GusGus, a 13-year-old Hanoverian/Arabian cross. He was a beautiful, smooth ride and finally, FINALLY, I got to canter! It was marvelous. Made me dream of wide open fields and long leisurely rides through the countryside. One day. Maybe one day.

My parents came out to watch me ride this weekend, so maybe I'll have some entirely embarrassing pictures to post here soon. Of course, they clapped and snapped and flashed the thumbs up the entire time I was out there. It was like a grade-school choir performance but I loved it. At least I didn't fall off. Heh.

This was a magical weekend - and served only to make me long for next! It promises to be another goodie - with a double dose of horse power - riding on Saturday and Woodbine Racetrack with the fam on Sunday for Mother's Day done up Beaches style.

Until then, meet GusGus:

Hitchin' A Ride

Introducing Colby:

Introducing Cheerio:


I know, I know - you're bored of the riding posts. I'm sorry. But it's totally the most exciting thing in my life right now. God that sounds lame. Oh well, c'est vrais!

Last week class was cancelled and I was bummed to have to wait another whole week before I could go and hang with my horsy homeys. So last night I showed up a little early just to wander the stalls and give hugs to all my favs (am totally picking favs).

While I secretly hoped they'd put me on Carter or Seven this week, I saw that Seven was already being tacked by someone in the advanced class and Carter was sweaty and beat from having obviously just finished a vigorous ride.

Instead I ended up with Cheerio. I'm sure you will not be surprised to hear that I am now in love with him. Are you beginning to see a pattern? I may have my secret favourites, but I can't help but love them all. Cheerio is very kind and patient, but a joy to ride because he's energetic and raring to go. Apparently he is a favourite among the more experienced riders at the academy.

Learning from this week's class:

1. Colby (the biggest, scariest horse at the school, who I rode last class and yes, fell in love with, and no I didn't post about it because I thought you'd be like, enough already) will totally eat you if you give him the chance. Last night he chopped down on my scarf and nearly strangled me to death. It was totally cute - especially since I didn't die.

2. Horses get coughs. A horse cough is really terrible to witness, and particularly unappealing if you happen to be riding just behind a coughing horse. Why? Because they fart really loud at the same time that they cough. It's both funny and revoting at the same time. Kind of like when The Momes barks really loud and a fart escapes at the same time. Crown and I affectionately call them "farks" or "farking". Heh. Sadly, giant Colby had a bad cough and had to be pulled from the paddock mid-ride.

3. Riding is totally easier if you have the gear! Last night I wore my brand-new half-chaps with cute stripey socks underneath. Okay, it doesn't really make it easier at all. But half-chaps? Cute.

4. I have always prefered dark horses to light horses. This bias has only been reinforced by the fact that horses shed A LOT when you groom/ride them and light coloured horse hair really destroys black leggings and brand-new black half-chaps.

5. Riding has done nothing to curb my obsessive compulsive disorder.

Back in the Saddle Again

Riding Lesson Recap: Learnings from week 2

1. I have a new love in my life. His name is Carter and he's 11 years old, 16hh and 1400 lbs! I've always been a sucker for a gelding, especially a dark chocolately brown one, and this guy is as stunning as they come. Although I hope to have the chance to ride all of the horses at the Academy over time, if I get to choose my horse in the future, this guy will be at the top of my list.

2. Seven, the mare from last week was a very gentle ride, a little on the lazy side because she'd been ridden on and off all day. By comparison, Carter, while sweet natured, is frisky and raring to go. He hates to stand still so we spent a lot of time shifting around while our instructor tried to hold my attention and teach me a thing or two. No kicking required to get this guy into a trot. The slightest loosening of the reigns and we were off.

3. I'm dying to canter. My classmate V1, who rode with me this week, lost control of her mount (Honey) for a minute and as a result ended up in a surprise canter. Watching her reminded me how much more comfortable a canter is than a trot, smooth and silky, and the best part? No posting required. My inner thighs were already shaking by this point so a canter would have been a sweet relief. Maybe next week?

4. Horses are a lot like dogs. They are playful and manipulative and will take advantage of you if you let them. Although they are about 20 times his size, these giants are not much different from The Momes. They are creatures of habit and routine is so important that the slightest variation can cause massive distress. They have a pecking order and when they are turned out in the paddock together during the day they will scrap and play just like pooches at the dog park.

5. This week we got to ride freely in the paddock (meaning not on a learning lead) in groups of two. For me it was much easier to have full run of the ring because it allowed me some alone time with Carter, while our instructor was at one end working with V1 and Honey. Without the scrutiny of the instructor, which makes me a little tense because I'm trying so hard to be perfect, I was able to relax and a lot of the stuff I'd learned as a kid really did start to come back. So I take it back, it is sort of like riding a bike. (A big furry bike with feet and teeth).

6. They sell riding gear for a reason. And it's not just because of how hot some people look in breeches and tall boots. Riding breeches have built in leather or suede patches on the inner thighs, calves and bum to prevent rubbing and banging against the saddle and the stirrups. My legs from the knee down are currently covered in bruises from riding in simple work-out pants and Doc Martins. Paddock boots are ankle height and perfect to wear with a pair of half chaps. My Docs would be okay if they were a little more broken in, but because they are so stiff, they rub against my shins when I'm pushing my heels down (a must in English riding), hopefully they will break in quickly. Thank God it's not bare leg season.

Introducing Carter:

Carter and Seven:

Seven

My favorite number? No.

My favourite Prince song? Well, yes. Yes it is. But still, not the reason for the title of this post.

Rather, Seven is the name of the Belgian-cross mare I rode last night at my very first lesson at the Riding Academy. And I am officially in love. Not just with Seven, although she is magnificent, but with the entire experience. I love the building, the smell of the stables, the adorably frisky dog that lives at the school, the lovely instructors (so pretty, so graceful, so FIT) and the feel of the velvety riding helmet sitting snuggly on my head.

And luckily, after she found out that I had some riding experience under my belt, my instructor offered some helpful words of encouragement as I hoisted myself up onto Seven last night, “It’ll come right back to you, seriously, it’s just like riding a bike.”

Oh, my God. So true.

If by “bike”, you actually “mean giant, powerful animal that could easily toss you half way across the paddock and then trample you to death in a flurry of metal shoes and hooves.”

So for your reading pleasure, here are five things that were decidedly NOT like riding a bike what-so-ever:

1. Putting a bridle on is scary. Horses have very big teeth and funnily enough don’t really enjoy having a metal bar inserted into their mouths for the purposes of being “steered” by a human being. Can’t imagine why? You actually have to stick your finger into said mouth full of big teeth in order to get said metal bar inserted. Yeah, a little nerve wracking.
   
   
2. Horses are huge. Like really, really big. The smallest horse at the Academy is just over 14hh tall. Her name is Honey and she’s the lucky lady that got to be the training horse for our tacking lesson last night. To give you an idea of how tall 14hh is, when I stand beside her the lowest part of the sway in her back is just around the same level as my neck. I’m 5’9”.
   
   
3. No matter how patient or mild-mannered a horse is, they do not want their feet picked out by five different people at one grooming session.
   
   
4. English saddle is a lot different from Western saddle. Now, I do know the difference and have ridden both styles in my day, but I guess I’d forgotten the part about HOW MUCH HARDER IT IS TO RIDE ENGLISH STYLE. Like seriously a lot of work. After 10 minutes of trotting my abs were cramping up and my inner thighs felt as though they had just burst into red hot flames.
   
   
5. Posting is hard. Posting is the action of bouncing up and down in rhythm with your horse while it’s in a full trot. I know that sounds totally hot and everything, and truthfully it is totally hot. If by “hot”, you mean “a lot of really hard work using muscles that you didn’t know existed in your quads, inner thighs, knees, calves, abs, back and ass.” And did I mention ass?

Introducing Honey:


Introducing Seven:

Ridin' Dirty

I know a while back I posted about my lack of New Year's resolutions for 2007. Not exactly, 100% true. In fact, I did kind of have one, but like I said in my recent post, I prefer not to set my self up for failure by admitting to it. To tell people about it and then never do it is just embarrassing. Much safer to keep it in my head, that way, if I fail, at least I'm the only one who knows what a lazy ass I've been.

My point?

I did have a little resolution stored in the depths of my brain this year. It was to resurrect an old hobby, to get back in the saddle, quite literally, and pursue a lifelong dream. Yep, I wanted to take horseback riding lessons.

I rode English style for a while as a kid and developed a life-long addiction to all things horse. I love their smell, the feel of their velvety lips as they rub against the palm of your hand, searching for a carrot or a bunch of hay. I love the sound they make when they try to blow flies away from their glorious eyes. The clop, clop, clop of a giant police horse when it rides past my street on it's way back to the stables at the CNE is enough to make my heart well-up with urge to run over and touch it, smell it, but most of all, ride it.

Year after year I drag Crown with me to the Royal Winter Fair, just so I can spend some time wandering the stables, smelling the horses and watching the show riders trot around the ring. I could sit there for hours, but with Crown in tow a few minutes is more common.

Don't even get me started on the number of times I've begged Crown to go riding with me when we go down south. Ever the good sport, he's climbed up on more than his fair share of flea-bitten, sway-backed animals and suffered through a hot mountain ride just to make me happy. Will have to try to scan a picture soon so you can all see what he looks like, feet barely off the ground, pained look on his face as he bounces in the no-so-ergonomically correct saddles of the south.

Is the love of horses really a girl thing? There is the obvious sexual innuendos involved, but that doesn't really explain little girls and their desire to get a pony for Christmas. Or does it? What would Freud say?

There's the cowboy thing, and yes, I love them, too. I'll dream up a good ol' fashioned cowboy fantasy over the more trendy movie-star or rags-to-riches-big-city-business-man thing any day. Something about a darkly tanned man with a few strands of sun bleached hair peeking out of his Stetson, brushing off a dusty pair of jeans well-worked-in jeans, as he dismounts from a big sweaty horse. Mmmm....

But I digress. Not too many cowboys when you ride English-style. Think Prince Charles. Essentially the opposite of hot cowboy, right? This is definitely NOT what's drawing me back into the saddle.

Maybe I come by it naturally. Moms is also an avid horse lover, and rode for years in her teens/early 20s. Sadly, she was thrown while jumping and destroyed her leg so badly that she never went back to her lessons. It's been her dream (and secretly mine as well) to own a little hobby farm one day with a few horses, spending time each day training, grooming and riding. Heaven.

How ever it is that I came by my passion, the point is, it is a passion. And it is time to stop sitting around with a tiny dream in the back of my head and to do something about it. Until now it's not been an easy dream to pursue. Most riding stables are located a considerable distance outside of the city. To get there every week would be a major challenge. Plus, it is not the cheapest hobby in the world.

Luckily, a few years ago, a riding school opened mere minutes away from me, The Riding Academy at the Horse Palace. It's still a pretty-penny, but I'm justifying the extravagance by telling myself that you really should not put a price on your dreams. I'm in a pretty good place financially and I figure, if I can afford to pay for gym memberships, yoga classes, random shopping sprees, movies, nights out at the bar, well, then I can afford to pursue this dream.

Other justifications include the superb work-out riding provides. You should be able to bounce a quarter off my ass in no time, and we all know how I love a big strong ass. Heh. Also, while the men may not be much to write home about, the women in full formal dress, with the jodhpurs and the tall leather boots? Hot. And who doesn't love a hobby that comes paired with a great outfit?

So I'm doing it. I have registered for the 8-week Adult Introductory course, it's a prerequisite to the regular group classes because in order to take those you have to pass a riding exam and be able to tack and groom the horse yourself. Considering I have not ridden English or tacked a horse since I was about 12, I'm pretty sure I'm going to require the refresher.

My first lesson was supposed to be happening right now; unfortunately, due to a last minute cancellation there were not enough students to keep the Sunday course on the schedule. Instead I've transferred to Thursday evenings and my first class will be February 8th. I'm hoping that there will be enough riders interested to keep that class on the board. If you are out there and share my dream? Call today and sign up! There is no time like the present.

I'll keep you posted on my lessons and the condition of my ass (which I'm sure will be so sore for the first while that I'll be spending a lot of time standing up).

Giddy up!