Have I mentioned I hate change?
It is hard watching many of the people who have boarded at my barn take their (and "my") babies to new barns. One of the girls I was closest with took her fat orange horse to a barn down the road today, and that was the hardest one. I'm trying not to be too upset over any of them, since I am not staying long term myself...as a matter of fact, this is my last full week of work at this barn. Come next Monday, I start my new job at an eventing barn a little further away. I'm very excited, since I always loved taking Marco to shows at this place, and they have a wonderful property for getting a horse fit, and do a lot of clinics. I'll be bringing Tuesday out there in a few weeks, hopefully. I told the new BO at my current barn I would stay for a short transitional period, give him time to find someone to replace me on the one (or two) days a week he was going to keep me, and then I'm taking my toys and going to go play somewhere else. Of course, it seems "I'll stay for a short transitional period" translated into "I'll stay indefinitely and of COURSE I'll work a day or two a week for you; who cares if I have a full time job somewhere else and would also like to have a life!" which has me more than a little annoyed...but soon enough...soon enough.
Benny is actually going to his new home tomorrow. I am pretty excited. It's a small private farm with five other horses, including a cute fat little Arabian named Zaki who will be his pasture buddy. They are going to be such a pair. I'm looking forward to hitting the trails with him, and so happy he gets to relax for a while. I will probably end up selling Tooey in a year or so, though; I only needed a second horse because I thought Benny was going to be an indentured lesson pony forever, and now that he gets to retire and be my horse again, I can't justify keeping her long term. Hopefully I can really whip her into shape out at the new place; there is a wonderful mile-long cross country course set up and down hills, and I think she will be a muscular beast in no time. We shall see...
This is a relatively pointless post...there is so much I want to say. It's been a pretty difficult and depressing few weeks for me, though, and there will NEVER be enough to say to my friends. It's been a wonderful ride. I already miss all of you.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Because I Found My Old Journal and Don't Feel Like Writing
This is one of my favorite Benny memories. I was 18 and had had a very bad night and went to go see Benny at about nine o'clock at night...
blah blah blah personal stuff blah blah blah home life blah blah...but all of a sudden it was way too crowded, especially when I was starting to leak in that embarrassing region about my eyes, and every sign warned that I was about to blow. So I did the safest thing I could have done, and drove my sobbing ass to the barn, and then did the perfect and dangerous thing in bridling Benny and throwing on a helmet...and then, without bothering to remove his blanket, I climbed aboard bareback, and we traipsed off into the dark woods.
And it was amazing. I loved Benny so much right then, with his neck arched perfectly onto the bit, prancing and shying a bit at the odd shadows the clear moon sent in our path. Everything was so silver, so cold, so flawless and so beautiful. It was almost eerie, supernatural how in tune I felt with Benny, walking through the alternating shadows and streams of filtering moonlight. I was no longer here, me, trapped. I and my horse were one mythical creature, wandering through that path, the dark and the light becoming us, us becoming them, in the silence of the night. I dropped my identity, my problems, and I just was, in that peaceful solitude, with my slightly nervous horse and really cold upper half.
When we emerged into the back fields, it was proven that, while spring is most beautiful in the afternoon, summer in the morning, and autumn in the sunset, winter is most breathtaking at night under a full moon. Everything was so crisp and clear, with the stars winking down on us, and the dreary, dead colors of winter's hiding transformed into the famous silvers, ice blues and midnight indigos that a full moon casts over everything in a flawless night sky.
We climbed to the highest hill, and I halted my regal steed, and there we sat for several fleeting minutes that lasted ages enough for me to heal infinitely. Together we surveyed the scene below us: the moon and the stars, casting their peaceable spell on the rolling hills and illuminating the lake as if a thousand tears had fallen and frozen on its placid surface, the dark shadow of our enchanted wood, and the faraway twinkle of the lights of civilization, seemingly with nothing to do with us, part of a world to which, for just a breath more of time, we had no obligation. I looked down on all this peaceful perfection, this utopia that knew nothing of pain and heartache, nor fear, nor broken promises...knew nothing of distrust and betrayal, where the only tears came from the sky and nourished, in contrast to the hurt of human tears.
Looking down at this through the pricked ears and windblown mane of my horse, I leaned down and buried my face in Benny's crest, wrapping my arms around his neck. And then I cried. I cried for what seemed like hours, over everything I was feeling, everything I feared and could not share with a human soul. But I shared it with Benny, and he listened, and said not a word. But I knew he listened, felt my tears in his mane, and the pain in my heart. My fiery and hot Arabian, who can never find it in him to stand still more than three seconds, stood stock still for what must have been ten minutes, listening to me finally admit I was scared and spill my anguish to him.
When that anguish was spent, I finally sat up, and thanked him for putting up with me. In response, he carried me gently and carefully down the steep, uneven ground of the hill. As we wandered around the edge of the lake, heading back to our woods, I let my mind drift momentarily into what Benny must have sensed was the mundane, for he suddenly reminded me where he thought my attention ought to be: on him. Something spooked him, and for a second I found myself riding my horse's ribcage. But he didn't let me fall; he waited until I'd managed to wrest myself back into a secure position before continuing to spook at goodness knows what.
As he made his way back through the woods, I silently thanked him for reminding me what was important, and for carrying me through that healing journey. The woods weren't as enchanting on the return ride, but then, I didn't need to submerge myself in a safe place anymore. Everything was still beautiful, but Benny was positively rattled by then, and I was freezing. It was time to head home...for a few moments, I thought we were lost, but Benny knew the way home...he always does.
blah blah blah personal stuff blah blah blah home life blah blah...but all of a sudden it was way too crowded, especially when I was starting to leak in that embarrassing region about my eyes, and every sign warned that I was about to blow. So I did the safest thing I could have done, and drove my sobbing ass to the barn, and then did the perfect and dangerous thing in bridling Benny and throwing on a helmet...and then, without bothering to remove his blanket, I climbed aboard bareback, and we traipsed off into the dark woods.
And it was amazing. I loved Benny so much right then, with his neck arched perfectly onto the bit, prancing and shying a bit at the odd shadows the clear moon sent in our path. Everything was so silver, so cold, so flawless and so beautiful. It was almost eerie, supernatural how in tune I felt with Benny, walking through the alternating shadows and streams of filtering moonlight. I was no longer here, me, trapped. I and my horse were one mythical creature, wandering through that path, the dark and the light becoming us, us becoming them, in the silence of the night. I dropped my identity, my problems, and I just was, in that peaceful solitude, with my slightly nervous horse and really cold upper half.
When we emerged into the back fields, it was proven that, while spring is most beautiful in the afternoon, summer in the morning, and autumn in the sunset, winter is most breathtaking at night under a full moon. Everything was so crisp and clear, with the stars winking down on us, and the dreary, dead colors of winter's hiding transformed into the famous silvers, ice blues and midnight indigos that a full moon casts over everything in a flawless night sky.
We climbed to the highest hill, and I halted my regal steed, and there we sat for several fleeting minutes that lasted ages enough for me to heal infinitely. Together we surveyed the scene below us: the moon and the stars, casting their peaceable spell on the rolling hills and illuminating the lake as if a thousand tears had fallen and frozen on its placid surface, the dark shadow of our enchanted wood, and the faraway twinkle of the lights of civilization, seemingly with nothing to do with us, part of a world to which, for just a breath more of time, we had no obligation. I looked down on all this peaceful perfection, this utopia that knew nothing of pain and heartache, nor fear, nor broken promises...knew nothing of distrust and betrayal, where the only tears came from the sky and nourished, in contrast to the hurt of human tears.
Looking down at this through the pricked ears and windblown mane of my horse, I leaned down and buried my face in Benny's crest, wrapping my arms around his neck. And then I cried. I cried for what seemed like hours, over everything I was feeling, everything I feared and could not share with a human soul. But I shared it with Benny, and he listened, and said not a word. But I knew he listened, felt my tears in his mane, and the pain in my heart. My fiery and hot Arabian, who can never find it in him to stand still more than three seconds, stood stock still for what must have been ten minutes, listening to me finally admit I was scared and spill my anguish to him.
When that anguish was spent, I finally sat up, and thanked him for putting up with me. In response, he carried me gently and carefully down the steep, uneven ground of the hill. As we wandered around the edge of the lake, heading back to our woods, I let my mind drift momentarily into what Benny must have sensed was the mundane, for he suddenly reminded me where he thought my attention ought to be: on him. Something spooked him, and for a second I found myself riding my horse's ribcage. But he didn't let me fall; he waited until I'd managed to wrest myself back into a secure position before continuing to spook at goodness knows what.
As he made his way back through the woods, I silently thanked him for reminding me what was important, and for carrying me through that healing journey. The woods weren't as enchanting on the return ride, but then, I didn't need to submerge myself in a safe place anymore. Everything was still beautiful, but Benny was positively rattled by then, and I was freezing. It was time to head home...for a few moments, I thought we were lost, but Benny knew the way home...he always does.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
It's Amazing How Much Life Changes in Five Days
So... scratch that one post, about how everything is changing, and it's scary, but will be fine; everything is still changing, and it's still scary, but right now, it's just freaking scary and stressful. I am relatively certain this eye twitch I've had for a couple weeks is never going away.
Basically...I do not have a guaranteed job anymore. I found out this past Sunday from another boarder (and good source) that the new BO only wanted to keep me if enough boarders stayed. He definitely wanted to keep my coworker (and I can see why, the guy can handle repairs, groundswork, etc), but if too many boarders left, he wouldn't be able to afford both of us. Insert panic, remove complacency. And here's me, relatively upset, because this barn is my home, and all my friends and family are there. Friends and family who I reassured that everything would be fine and nothing would change, because coworker and I would still be around to maintain the quality care of their horses. But we'll get to that later.
Well, come to find out, new BO does not want to keep any of the teenage girls who are taking lessons; he doesn't want to deal with any of that, so he has decided to only keep the adults who ride on their own...which is all of seven people. Out of twenty-four horses. And that's if those adults decide to stay amidst all of the upheaval.
You see where this is going.
BO did tell me he asked her to ask me to work on Sundays, and in return, I could keep my horses there. Would you do it? I just can't see doing it... I mean, I barely know the guy, and after all of the changing back and forth and not being reliable in his word, I have begun to harbor a teensy dislike for the guy, a definite distrust, and a bit of resentment. I'm trying not to be childish and petty, I really am. But it really bothers me that he looked me in the eye and assured me he definitely wanted to keep me, because he was planning on keeping all of the boarders and wanted nothing to change, and needed all the help he could get. Based on that, when the boarders came up to me and asked me what I thought of the guy, and what I thought was going to happen, I reassured them like an idiot that he was a very nice guy (that may still be true, but personally I don't see it anymore), he wasn't going to kick anyone out (wrong), he wanted to keep everything the same (wrong again), and coworker and I would be around to take care of things (half wrong). I mean, how ironic can you get? In my complacency, I caused more complacency. So now that the shit has hit the fan, everyone pretty much has to scramble. I wish I hadn't been quite so reassuring, but I thought I knew what was happening. So did current BO, and that really, really upsets me. She handed this guy a made business, with a long-standing clientele, and he smashed it in the dirt. She thought she had everyone taken care of. She did her damnedest to see that everyone was taken care of, but once he changed his mind, well, that was that. I could go on for hours and hours, but in the interest of keeping my mouth shut and being an adult, I'll just say that I guess...it is what it is.
In the meantime, although BO told me she thinks the deal he offered me is a good one, I'm about 99% certain I would much prefer to tell him good luck with that one...I've got a home for Ben and Too, and the people who own the place are friends and have recommended, since everything seems to be a mess, that I get my horses out sooner rather than later...like, tomorrow. I told them that I should probably leave Benny so he can finish out the last week or two of this lesson semester, but wait! Benny has an abcess and is pretty darn lame and will probably be out of commission for another week or so...so, what's the point in leaving him? Although, it may rain the next couple of days, so in the interest of keeping his foot dry and clean, I may put it off a bit.
Now, I just have to find a job...this is the scary part. I've been at this barn for so long that the thought of getting used to working somewhere else is such a foreign idea that I can barely fathom it. I suppose I should look at it as an opportunity to grow up and have a real boss, since BO and husband have always felt more like parents than my bosses.
Needless to say, I have been an emotional wreck this week. Everything changed on Sunday. On Tuesday, Too beat the crap out of herself in her stall during a storm, and came out of it with a swollen throat:
Basically...I do not have a guaranteed job anymore. I found out this past Sunday from another boarder (and good source) that the new BO only wanted to keep me if enough boarders stayed. He definitely wanted to keep my coworker (and I can see why, the guy can handle repairs, groundswork, etc), but if too many boarders left, he wouldn't be able to afford both of us. Insert panic, remove complacency. And here's me, relatively upset, because this barn is my home, and all my friends and family are there. Friends and family who I reassured that everything would be fine and nothing would change, because coworker and I would still be around to maintain the quality care of their horses. But we'll get to that later.
Well, come to find out, new BO does not want to keep any of the teenage girls who are taking lessons; he doesn't want to deal with any of that, so he has decided to only keep the adults who ride on their own...which is all of seven people. Out of twenty-four horses. And that's if those adults decide to stay amidst all of the upheaval.
You see where this is going.
BO did tell me he asked her to ask me to work on Sundays, and in return, I could keep my horses there. Would you do it? I just can't see doing it... I mean, I barely know the guy, and after all of the changing back and forth and not being reliable in his word, I have begun to harbor a teensy dislike for the guy, a definite distrust, and a bit of resentment. I'm trying not to be childish and petty, I really am. But it really bothers me that he looked me in the eye and assured me he definitely wanted to keep me, because he was planning on keeping all of the boarders and wanted nothing to change, and needed all the help he could get. Based on that, when the boarders came up to me and asked me what I thought of the guy, and what I thought was going to happen, I reassured them like an idiot that he was a very nice guy (that may still be true, but personally I don't see it anymore), he wasn't going to kick anyone out (wrong), he wanted to keep everything the same (wrong again), and coworker and I would be around to take care of things (half wrong). I mean, how ironic can you get? In my complacency, I caused more complacency. So now that the shit has hit the fan, everyone pretty much has to scramble. I wish I hadn't been quite so reassuring, but I thought I knew what was happening. So did current BO, and that really, really upsets me. She handed this guy a made business, with a long-standing clientele, and he smashed it in the dirt. She thought she had everyone taken care of. She did her damnedest to see that everyone was taken care of, but once he changed his mind, well, that was that. I could go on for hours and hours, but in the interest of keeping my mouth shut and being an adult, I'll just say that I guess...it is what it is.
In the meantime, although BO told me she thinks the deal he offered me is a good one, I'm about 99% certain I would much prefer to tell him good luck with that one...I've got a home for Ben and Too, and the people who own the place are friends and have recommended, since everything seems to be a mess, that I get my horses out sooner rather than later...like, tomorrow. I told them that I should probably leave Benny so he can finish out the last week or two of this lesson semester, but wait! Benny has an abcess and is pretty darn lame and will probably be out of commission for another week or so...so, what's the point in leaving him? Although, it may rain the next couple of days, so in the interest of keeping his foot dry and clean, I may put it off a bit.
Now, I just have to find a job...this is the scary part. I've been at this barn for so long that the thought of getting used to working somewhere else is such a foreign idea that I can barely fathom it. I suppose I should look at it as an opportunity to grow up and have a real boss, since BO and husband have always felt more like parents than my bosses.
Needless to say, I have been an emotional wreck this week. Everything changed on Sunday. On Tuesday, Too beat the crap out of herself in her stall during a storm, and came out of it with a swollen throat:
And a swollen noggin:
Which was also the day that Benny came in with his abcess. He wasn't terribly lame, and it really seemed like he'd just tweaked his ankle, but the next day when he came in dead lame, I started soaking him for an abcess (during which he put me into absolute emotional distress by shaking like he was going into shock), and the vet came out the next day and verified, pared out his toe a bit, etc. I pretty much spent thirty minutes on Wednesday standing in the middle of the barn while soaking him, bawling my eyes out because I was worried about Too, damn upset because it hit me that BO and husband are leaving, and it literally killed me to see Benny in the kind of pain he was in. It was like the worst kind of emotional onset you can imagine. I couldn't function. I am sort of functioning now; I'm tentatively calling and driving around to see what sort of horse operations may be hiring...I can't see doing anything else. The important part is that my ponies will be safe and taken care of. And I would really like to have written this post a bit better, but I'm afraid that by exploring my emotions a bit more and writing less distantly, that I'll throw myself back into emotional distress, and ya know what? I'm headed out to the barn to enjoy my ponies.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Saddle Shopping, Tally Ho!
Now that I'm done being all emotional and weepy, how about a weensy Tooey update? I'd like to update a bit on Ben too, but what is there to say? He is a wonderful animal and I got to have a Benny day last week since he only had a handful of lessons. I've been trimming his feet myself; it scares the shit out of me to do it, because I have no idea what I'm doing, but it seems to be working for him, because he has been feeling truly great lately and moving pretty well. Or maybe it's spring. Who knows. Regardless, when I rode him last week, he was beautimous and on the bit and made me nervous for a minute when he started lifting and using his back end REALLY STRONGLY and I thought maybe he was having an out of body experience. Then I took him on a trail ride and made him do weird obstacles in the woods and he was a champ. Have I mentioned he's my soul mate?
Too's doing well, too. I've got to start dragging myself out of bed in the mornings to ride again. I am on the hunt for a new saddle; the saddle I've been borrowing from a friend is not a fit for me, and as Too loses weight and gains a bit of muscle, the saddle is getting to be less of a fit for her as well. Hopefully I can get a good price for the Crosby I have. I'm thinking of getting a Wintec Pro. My first saddle ever was a western Wintec, and I hated that beast; as ignorant as I was, I could still tell it threw me forward (an impressive feat on an uphill/high-withered horse), and I was never really connected with my horse's body. In my opinion, the english Wintecs are ehh, but the dressage Wintecs seem to be pretty nice. Not to mention, with the changeable gullet system, I should be able to use it on slim-spine-round-ribs Benny and barrel-shaped-no-withers Too. I may ask BO if I can test drive her Wintec tomorrow.
Does anyone know if they've invented a saddle yet that will make my leg longer?
Anyway. This is a sort of pointless post. But Dear Seester took these photos last week, and as I am going to make an effort to vastly improve my hands and arms, I may as well make a "before" post for comparison.
Too's doing well, too. I've got to start dragging myself out of bed in the mornings to ride again. I am on the hunt for a new saddle; the saddle I've been borrowing from a friend is not a fit for me, and as Too loses weight and gains a bit of muscle, the saddle is getting to be less of a fit for her as well. Hopefully I can get a good price for the Crosby I have. I'm thinking of getting a Wintec Pro. My first saddle ever was a western Wintec, and I hated that beast; as ignorant as I was, I could still tell it threw me forward (an impressive feat on an uphill/high-withered horse), and I was never really connected with my horse's body. In my opinion, the english Wintecs are ehh, but the dressage Wintecs seem to be pretty nice. Not to mention, with the changeable gullet system, I should be able to use it on slim-spine-round-ribs Benny and barrel-shaped-no-withers Too. I may ask BO if I can test drive her Wintec tomorrow.
Does anyone know if they've invented a saddle yet that will make my leg longer?
Anyway. This is a sort of pointless post. But Dear Seester took these photos last week, and as I am going to make an effort to vastly improve my hands and arms, I may as well make a "before" post for comparison.
No broken line here, but she's also in giraffe mode.
She finally uses cavaletti properly. Wouldn't she be shocked if I raised them?
Nothin' to see here, folks, move along! Canter stttilllll needs help.
High as a kite.
She is getting somewhere, despite my worst efforts. Hey there, sneaky right shoulder!
This is pretty well where I like her. She just needs a bit of bend to the inside, and a rider who isn't flopping around like a spoiled fish.
And for entertainment purposes, how's our approach?
What about now? Bet your fat horse can't get so airborn!
She IS doing her tiny jumps a wee bit better, though.
Couldn't have gotten much worse.
Incidentally, on the off chance we are ever prepared to actually GO to a dressage show, I'm thinking of show names. Any of you in my age bracket remember that '90s song by Shawn Colvin, "Sunny Came Home"? There's a line in there towards the end that I've always loved. "Oh, light the sky and hold on tight, the world is burning down..." I like Light The Sky as a show name. It sort of works; I knew I was going to upset a few people by getting this horse, but I did it and held on to what I wanted for a change, regardless of what happened.
But on the other hand, I was thinking last week about how she's a handsome mare...she's not a delicate, pretty thing. She's a full bodied, handsome, half huge-something. Being the cultured (read: nerdy) individual I am, I am rather a connoisseur (addict) of Harry Potter and it occurred to me: which character in that book is a handsome, full-bodied, half giant?
Why, Madame Maxime, of course!
Hmm...
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Things Are Changing
And change scares the crap out of me. I haven't updated recently because I've been afraid I couldn't keep my mouth shut, but the cat is out of the bag and here it is: The barn where I board and work is under contract to a new owner. The BO is ready to retire, and if this contract goes through, we will be under new management by September. Lawyers, real estate agents, and horse people know nothing is a done deal until the papers are signed and money changes hands, so right now this doesn't feel real and hasn't sunken in yet. Luckily for me, the guy who wants the place is a very nice guy and doesn't want to change anything. That means that I still have a job and things will run much the same as they have under BO's management. Scary for me, is the guy is not a horseperson and will be heavily depending on the experience of my coworker and me to run the place. I guess I will be growing up very quickly here pretty soon! It will be my responsibility to keep the books, keep the hay, feed, and shavings ordered, schedule dewormings/vaccs/farrier etc, and deal with all the politics it is currently my joy to leave to BO, since she and her husband are so much less socially awkward with people. I am both nervous and excited about the responsibility, and saddened to see two people I count as family go.
This possible huge change has had me thinking about my job the past few days. I never did have any enthusiasm for going to college; I had no idea what path I could possibly take through school that would lead me to a life I could enjoy waking up to every day. And when this job fell into my lap, I realized that although my life is small and humble, I'm never going to change the world caring for my little stable of children, and there are many very educated people who may look down on the occupation I chose, I cannot regret the path my life has taken. Every day is not perfect; some days I come home upset, and every day I come home tired. Caring for a stable full of show horses is not easy. I often wonder how many miles a day I walk, how many cumulative pounds a day I lift and carry, et cetera. But this is what I wanted to do my whole life. Maybe spending every morning mucking stalls isn't exactly what my nine year-old brain imagined, but for a little girl who never got to ride until high school, this is still a dream come true.
There are the days that I cannot help loving my job. When you work with animals, sometimes the weirdest, most random shit happens during your day. We have had the neighbors cows break through the fence, and spent the morning herding renegade cattle. I have made a fool out of myself chasing after an injured bird for my vet to take home and rehab. (Not to mention the occasion when my coworker and I were trudging up the hill in the morning and came across a chicken hawk with an injured wing, and he shrugged nonchalantly and stuffed the poor thing in his pocket and carried on with bringing the horses in like there wasn't a bird with inch long talons in his sweater.) (I took the bird home that afternoon and a rescue collected him, so no worries! They released him a couple weeks later.) I also literally treed that same coworker several years ago; he had used a ladder to climb to a dying limb on one of the two large oaks in the barnyard so he could saw it off and thus prevent it from deciding to fall on an unsuspecting pedestrian. He quickly realized that he couldn't use the chainsaw until the ladder was out of the way. We are talking one of those large extendable ladders. The limb was about twenty feet off the ground. Being puny and midgety as I am, there was no question of me simply shifting the ladder off to the side, so he told me to just knock it over, and then he made quick work of the branch. When he was done, I casually said, "Hey Ricardo?" and he answered, "Yah?" And I asked, "How are you going to get down?" To which he could only say, "...ooohhhhhh..." I can only imagine the look on my out-of-town boss's face when I called and innocently asked if we had any long lengths of rope, as Ricardo was stuck in a tree and could not get down. BO's husband asked if I couldn't just drive the tractor under him, raise the bucket as high as it would go, and let him drop into it. Ricardo was not fond of that idea, and instead had me throw him his phone so he could call a buddy to put the ladder back up for him. It was not my proudest moment, especially standing awkardly under the tree, waiting for his friend to come, because I felt too guilty to just leave him...And then he said, "Today's my birthday, Jenna..." And I felt really bad. Good times. I weekly get the opportunity to listen to various horse professionals argue good-naturedly, and the farriers, clients and vets who all pass through our place are wonderful, funny people who I generally have a blast with. The very air around that place is saturated with laughter and good times, and humorous incidents you would never have to deal with at a desk job.
There are also hard days. There are days I have more shit on my honey-do list than I can ever get done, and when my routine gets messed up and I can't finish the things I want to get done, my OCD kicks in and I get frustrated and angry and spend the day stomping around in silence, hoping no one shows up until I can be sunny and people-friendly again. The rainy, freezing cold days when I can't feel my fingers or toes are miserable, and I spend all day walking in circles, cleaning stalls I just cleaned twenty minutes ago. Sometimes I have days where I could swear the horses are all plotting to kill me, drive me nuts, or make me chase them all over kingdom come and all I want to do is plop down in the dirt and have a good cry and never come back. I have spent more days than I care to count, keeping the vet and owner of a sick or injured horse company during treatment, and have stayed up plenty of nights to look in on an ailing horse. The very worst days are the sick days, the hurt days, and the days where I cry with people I've known for years while we lay their best friend down and put them to peace. I will never forget the first time we lost one of the horses in my care; she was an old pony who died peacefully of a heart attack during the night, and the next day I went home and collapsed sobbing into my sister's arms, because, as I brokenly told her, "They really do die." We have lost five horses total in my time working there, and it never gets any easier. BO's young Thoroughbred had to be put down abruptly due to a small intestinal twist, and when the vet left at three in the morning, I calmly walked behind the tack lockers and then broke and doubled over, feeling like my soul was coming out of my chest in splinters. Needless to say, some days I think I'd like to become a turtle farmer.
But when I get to stand out in the open air and watch a herd of rambunctious geldings galloping and bucking around me, the nine year-old girl and the twenty-five year-old woman in me join hands and watch in starstruck wonder at the gold I work with every day. I get to see my best friend every day and be the one wholly in charge for his well-being. I cry with the group of people who have become my friends and family with their hardships, and I cry and celebrate with them over their triumphs. There is nothing so profound as standing on the rail, watching a friend jump her horse for the first time in a year after a devastating injury. Or seeing other friends who have worked hard for years finally unload their dream horse off of a trailer and introduce them to their new home. Or being at a student's very first show and seeing her gallumph down the hill at me waving her very first ribbon and beaming like she's won an Oscar. Damn close enough, in my world. I'll take it. The emotional attachment I form to the people and horses at my home away from home either makes me very good or absolutely horrible at my job, but I can't see doing it any other way.
So for all my friends and family, I know things are changing, and it's all very scary and weird. But I want to thank all of you for making my job the place I will always fit, the reason to get up in the morning, and the only place I can ever imagine spending eight or nine hours in a row. I love you guys.
This possible huge change has had me thinking about my job the past few days. I never did have any enthusiasm for going to college; I had no idea what path I could possibly take through school that would lead me to a life I could enjoy waking up to every day. And when this job fell into my lap, I realized that although my life is small and humble, I'm never going to change the world caring for my little stable of children, and there are many very educated people who may look down on the occupation I chose, I cannot regret the path my life has taken. Every day is not perfect; some days I come home upset, and every day I come home tired. Caring for a stable full of show horses is not easy. I often wonder how many miles a day I walk, how many cumulative pounds a day I lift and carry, et cetera. But this is what I wanted to do my whole life. Maybe spending every morning mucking stalls isn't exactly what my nine year-old brain imagined, but for a little girl who never got to ride until high school, this is still a dream come true.
There are the days that I cannot help loving my job. When you work with animals, sometimes the weirdest, most random shit happens during your day. We have had the neighbors cows break through the fence, and spent the morning herding renegade cattle. I have made a fool out of myself chasing after an injured bird for my vet to take home and rehab. (Not to mention the occasion when my coworker and I were trudging up the hill in the morning and came across a chicken hawk with an injured wing, and he shrugged nonchalantly and stuffed the poor thing in his pocket and carried on with bringing the horses in like there wasn't a bird with inch long talons in his sweater.) (I took the bird home that afternoon and a rescue collected him, so no worries! They released him a couple weeks later.) I also literally treed that same coworker several years ago; he had used a ladder to climb to a dying limb on one of the two large oaks in the barnyard so he could saw it off and thus prevent it from deciding to fall on an unsuspecting pedestrian. He quickly realized that he couldn't use the chainsaw until the ladder was out of the way. We are talking one of those large extendable ladders. The limb was about twenty feet off the ground. Being puny and midgety as I am, there was no question of me simply shifting the ladder off to the side, so he told me to just knock it over, and then he made quick work of the branch. When he was done, I casually said, "Hey Ricardo?" and he answered, "Yah?" And I asked, "How are you going to get down?" To which he could only say, "...ooohhhhhh..." I can only imagine the look on my out-of-town boss's face when I called and innocently asked if we had any long lengths of rope, as Ricardo was stuck in a tree and could not get down. BO's husband asked if I couldn't just drive the tractor under him, raise the bucket as high as it would go, and let him drop into it. Ricardo was not fond of that idea, and instead had me throw him his phone so he could call a buddy to put the ladder back up for him. It was not my proudest moment, especially standing awkardly under the tree, waiting for his friend to come, because I felt too guilty to just leave him...And then he said, "Today's my birthday, Jenna..." And I felt really bad. Good times. I weekly get the opportunity to listen to various horse professionals argue good-naturedly, and the farriers, clients and vets who all pass through our place are wonderful, funny people who I generally have a blast with. The very air around that place is saturated with laughter and good times, and humorous incidents you would never have to deal with at a desk job.
There are also hard days. There are days I have more shit on my honey-do list than I can ever get done, and when my routine gets messed up and I can't finish the things I want to get done, my OCD kicks in and I get frustrated and angry and spend the day stomping around in silence, hoping no one shows up until I can be sunny and people-friendly again. The rainy, freezing cold days when I can't feel my fingers or toes are miserable, and I spend all day walking in circles, cleaning stalls I just cleaned twenty minutes ago. Sometimes I have days where I could swear the horses are all plotting to kill me, drive me nuts, or make me chase them all over kingdom come and all I want to do is plop down in the dirt and have a good cry and never come back. I have spent more days than I care to count, keeping the vet and owner of a sick or injured horse company during treatment, and have stayed up plenty of nights to look in on an ailing horse. The very worst days are the sick days, the hurt days, and the days where I cry with people I've known for years while we lay their best friend down and put them to peace. I will never forget the first time we lost one of the horses in my care; she was an old pony who died peacefully of a heart attack during the night, and the next day I went home and collapsed sobbing into my sister's arms, because, as I brokenly told her, "They really do die." We have lost five horses total in my time working there, and it never gets any easier. BO's young Thoroughbred had to be put down abruptly due to a small intestinal twist, and when the vet left at three in the morning, I calmly walked behind the tack lockers and then broke and doubled over, feeling like my soul was coming out of my chest in splinters. Needless to say, some days I think I'd like to become a turtle farmer.
But when I get to stand out in the open air and watch a herd of rambunctious geldings galloping and bucking around me, the nine year-old girl and the twenty-five year-old woman in me join hands and watch in starstruck wonder at the gold I work with every day. I get to see my best friend every day and be the one wholly in charge for his well-being. I cry with the group of people who have become my friends and family with their hardships, and I cry and celebrate with them over their triumphs. There is nothing so profound as standing on the rail, watching a friend jump her horse for the first time in a year after a devastating injury. Or seeing other friends who have worked hard for years finally unload their dream horse off of a trailer and introduce them to their new home. Or being at a student's very first show and seeing her gallumph down the hill at me waving her very first ribbon and beaming like she's won an Oscar. Damn close enough, in my world. I'll take it. The emotional attachment I form to the people and horses at my home away from home either makes me very good or absolutely horrible at my job, but I can't see doing it any other way.
So for all my friends and family, I know things are changing, and it's all very scary and weird. But I want to thank all of you for making my job the place I will always fit, the reason to get up in the morning, and the only place I can ever imagine spending eight or nine hours in a row. I love you guys.
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