Ahhh

Well, riding class was a bit of a disappointment today. Sparky round penned Red (who may be getting a new name, as "Red" has been a placeholder name anyway. I didn't think it was nice to tell everyone his name is "That Little Mudder Frucker") and got him pretty well worked in before he rode, and he did pretty good. He even got a lope without having a rodeo, which everyone cheered. Monkey didn't do bad either, for having been ridden once since the last semester. He's stiff to the left again, but he'll work in as he gets back into the swing of things.

I'm changing bits on him, to a short shank snaffle. He's working well enough on the ring snaffle that I think I can transition him, and it's a bit that I've wanted to try on him for certain communications issues, as well. I'll keep the ring snaffle handy, of course, because I need to get him bending again, and that is accomplished with the ring snaffle better than a leverage bit. The next time I'm home I may steal the extra headstall and just have one with the ring snaffle on it and one with the short shank.

Feed crew next week, which is going to suck, but it'll get it out of the way. I think I'm going to see if I can trade my next one for one later on in the semester, so I don't have to do both in the cold. We'll see if I can accomplish it.

I'm also taking care of Red this weekend, along with Monkey, because Sparky is going home to celebrate his birthday with his family on Saturday. I told him I'm not gonna ride for him, though.

And now I need to go pop a couple of Advil for the stiffness, make myself a cup of hot chocolate for the chill, and curl up with a good descriptive paragraph and an excerpt from Brokeback Mountain (the book, not the movie) for Creative Writing.

Ya'll will have to wait for a really good blog post until I get settled back into the swing of things. Or until AD gets the next installment of Star of Life reconstructed, whichever comes first.

The Return of Red

Well, Sparky is back, and so is Red. Marilyn, as she did last year, had someone ride all the horses that weren't owned by their riders. I offered to ride Red because, well, he's mine, and I kind of know his tricks.

I made Sparky do the work of saddling him, though.

Rode Sparky's saddle, which isn't half bad as far as grip goes, but I don't like his stirrups.

Anyway, the little sucker tried to go haywire on me when I was putting weight on the stirrup and testing him (see? I do know his tricks) and my boot got a little bound up in the stirrup, nothing major, but I thought the boot was going to have to come off, so all I could do was relax the leg, which put me off balance, which dumped me on my butt, with one hand hanging on to the rein for dear life. I wasn't about to let that little sucker go.

After that he let me in the saddle, and we did a little bit of prancing and dancing, but we did ok. That is, until I tried to kick him up into a lope... then he gave me about three strides and broke in two. Which pissed me off so I'm sitting on top of this stubby little pony lookin horse getting my skeleton shook up and cussing at him through gritted teeth. He didn't get me off, but he tried again the next time I tried for a lope. Didn't work that time either. I walked and trotted him around a bit more and when he was listening to cues fairly well (for him) at those gaits I went ahead and handed him off to Sparky.

Didn't get to watch Sparky rodeo, though, he didn't try for a lope.

Maybe tomorrow.

Meanwhile I'll probably have my own issues tomorrow, because I didn't get Monkey rode today.

Oh, and Marilyn didn't get to see this rodeo either, she was up at the round pens. She just can't get a break when it comes to getting to see me when my horses really go for broke.

Frozen

It is freaking cold here today. Plus there's drama. Of course there's drama.

E forgot to confirm with JJ that he had a horse coming. So, there was stress this morning. Turns out, E will be riding three colts this semester, unless one gets sent home as psycho.

Plus, Sparky is coming back! I only found this out this morning, and he needs a horse. Well, I had promised him last semester that if he came back he could have Red to ride. So, Red is coming up and Legs is getting moved to Walsh to hang out with some other horses until I can get arrangements made otherwise. I'm glad that we'll have Sparky again, but it did put me in a little bit of a pickle. It's all worked out now, as long as we can find a truck to pull the little sucker up here. Mom's truck is still being switched over to run on propane, and the truck she's been driving went to crap on her this morning. Hopefully that one will be out of the shop today.

Meanwhile, I've spent most of the morning at the barn, Marilyn let all of her classes out early so that the HTM kids could pick their horses, and I've been getting things set up on getting horses shuffled around. I've got enough layers on to keep most of me warm, but my toes were solid ice when I got back from the barn. I solved that dilemma though.

Pantyhose, footie socks, thermal socks, normal socks, longhandles, jeans, sports bra, thermal shirt, t shirt, Carhartt hoodie, Carhartt coat, two hoods and a Carhartt stocking cap, a scarf, and insulated gloves.

I might be able to get through class at the barn without something freezing off. Thank whatever weather deities that want to take credit the weather is supposed to start warming up starting tomorrow. I can barely get my feet in my boots now, I'm not sure how I'd add another layer on my feet.

Creative Writing

Wow. Here I've been thinking that Creative Writing was going to be a fun, fairly easy class. It is going to be fun, it's going to be a blast as a matter of fact. But it's not going to be nearly as easy as I expected it to be. It's obvious already that I'm not going to be able to brush off old blog posts and use for assignments, which I wasn't entirely planning to do anyway.

But, I am going to be able to take assignments from that class and share them with all of you, in lieu of actual content when things get exciting. Hopefully, you'll be able to see my writing improve along the way.

I have to say though, ya'll have spoiled me. Some of the kids in that class I can already tell are going to be a lot better writers than I am. I enjoy writing, and I have a certain amount of drive to do it, but some of those people, wow.

But, to the point at hand, as per Traci's (the instructor) orders, I have purchased a dedicated notebook for that class. It makes sense, not to have to dig through seven other subjects to find your notes and work for the class. I've also purchased a smaller notebook to use as a journal, since journaling is mandatory. She won't be reading the journals, but she will be flipping through them to ensure that we're actually putting pen to paper and leaving behind ink.

Before the next class, I'm supposed to have a sample of my writing to take in for her. I'm not sure if I should write something new (and I have a couple of ideas) or use something older. Frankly, just from perusing my book a bit and the discussion in class today, I don't think anything I have on hand is something I would want to turn in, short of the Sidesaddle Rodeo. So, it's pretty much that or write something entirely new, and she doesn't want anything too long.

I'll decide before Monday what I'm going to do, and get it done. Meanwhile, I'm wondering how in the heck I'm going to write a play, because that's one of the requirements for the class. Not exactly my strong suit, but we'll see. The class is mainly going to be workshop style, where we share our work with the rest of the class and then discuss it in class.

We're also supposed to be listening to overheard dialogue, and sharing the entertaining parts with the class. Of course, I don't really go anywhere to overhear dialogue, so I may be SOL on that one. Either that or I'm going to have to start haunting the truck stop with a newspaper and a cup of coffee during the hours I'm out of class, but that might be misconstrued by the truckers. A lot lizard, I'm not.

All in all, I think it's going to be a great class, a lot of work, and a lot of fun. The combined incidents of the instructor extolling on the versatility of the word "Fuck" and the exercise during which we each provided a word, and then had to tie them all into a coherent sentence, proved that.

The latter, well, one of the students decided that we all needed to loosen up, and added the word "Penis" to the mix. After class he told Traci that we'd all failed, because the only possible response to "penis" was "vagina."

Ya'll know me. I just couldn't keep my big mouth shut.

"That's not the only response."

"Oh? Then what?" (he was a little belligerent and seemed to be up on his high horse at this point... and I just had to knock him off.)

"Erectile Dysfunction."

"Wha? That is not a response to penis."

"Sure it is. Hundreds of Viagra commercials agree with me."

Someone else brought up the possibility of a gay person not thinking that vagina was the response to penis, as well. The dude had to chime in again...

"Then you just say penis louder."

Yet again, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

"No, then you add yay on the end.... 'Penis! Yay!' "

One day I'll learn not to poke at these people, but probably not until everyone else stops laughing at it when I do.....

First Day of Classes

Well, I've survived my first day of classes, in spite of being in the Big Blue Slidemobile.

Chevy Stepsides just were not made to go well on slick roads. I've made it back and forth to classes, though, by driving very slowly, and not giving the tires a chance to break loose. (Thank you, Mamaw, for putting new tires on it, so that I actually have a chance to do that...)

Oh, yeah, I didn't tell you guys did I? My beloved Chevy Malibu is in the shop, getting a strange groaning noise in the power steering pump checked out. Which is a bit tricky because this is one of those problems that only happens when it's cold, only turning left, and only until a certain point. And not even always then. But a while back I had a hose come loose from my power steering pump, dumping all of my fluid on the ground. Which happened two years ago, as well. No big deal, slap a new hose clamp on there, fill 'er up and she runs like a top.

Except that this groaning noise started. With it being only to the left I have to wonder if the power steering fluid got into the rack and pinion or something, gathered dirt, and gums things up in the cold, making the power steering pump work harder on a left turn, and causing the groan, until things get broke loose again. I don't know, but I gather from what Mamaw has told me that the mechanic had a ball doing doughnuts trying to recreate the issue.

Meanwhile, in my classes, JJ and Marylin are team teaching Equine Evaluation, which means that the rules are going to be a lot more strict than if just Marilyn were teaching it. And, either JJ is going to keep Marilyn a little more organized, or we're going to have twice the chaos as we did in Production. I haven't had a classroom class with JJ yet, so I can't tell.

Reproduction is another of Marilyn's classes, and she opened it today by saying "I'm giving you this syllabus but we won't be following it." Gotta love it. Of course she explained the changes, and they made sense, we're covering the brood mare first, rather than the stallion, as it says on the syllabus, because the stallion is easier.

Ag Financing. This class is going to kick my skinny white butt. The instructor seems like a nice enough guy, but he's got one of those bland voices that tends to go in one ear and out the other. Now, I'm pretty talented at turning on the mental recorder in my mind, taking a few notes, and using the notes to remind me of what was said during the lecture. But there are limits.

This man talked for thirty minutes solid, and the only thing I remember is: "I won't be teaching from the book, for the most part. The book is more for a reference, and we won't even be covering all of it." I only remember that, because it was ten minutes in, and I'd already decided that I was going to have to resign myself to not remembering the lectures and just using the book. I was paying close attention, too! That phrase scared the crap out of me, so I went and bought a Digital Voice Recorder.

This little thing seems pretty spiffy... I would have liked one with a USB hookup so that I could download files directly onto my computer, but they didn't have one with the mic sensitivity that I'm going to need. (Rackafrackin speak softly and carry a big stick my ass, speak up man!) But, because I'm just Techno-savvy enough to get myself into trouble, I ran a couple of tests. The mic should pick up what I need, and once I get home, I can plug my external speakers into the recorder, plug my headset into the computer, pull up Audacity (a fantastically user-friendly audio editing program that I use to make my own ringtones for the cell phone) and record from the device onto the computer.

The downside (and possibly the upside, considering the problem that caused me to get the recorder in the first place) is that I have to listen to the recording as I'm performing this jury-rigged transfer. But, the sound quality comes across well, and I can compile the recordings and back them up either onto my external hard drive or to CD, when I have enough of them.

I'll probably test the classroom compatibility of the recorder tomorrow in Creative Writing, so that I'll know before Monday if I can set it on the table beside me, or if I need to set it up by the instructor.

I'm just glad this kind of technology is available, or I'd probably wind up begging someone for help or tanking the class. And I can't afford to tank the class.

E and the Revolver.

Took E to the Old Homestead yesterday, since he needed to pull his pony's shoes, and I wanted to pick some stuff up anyway. We made the drive down there, and Mamaw and Farmmom had lunch ready for us, fried chicken and all the trimmings. E stuffed himself, and then we sat around a while visiting, until Farmmom reminded us that if we were going to go out to the ponies we should get a move on.

Running by the house to get Rebel's halter, Farmdad grabbed a couple of rifles and a .22 revolver to send with us to play with. The day was warm enough that the prairie dogs were up and moving around. Fun stuff.

So, we get Rebel all taken care of, and took the long way around to get into the pasture because of the mud. First of all Ed got a shock when he realized that there were hoofprints where we were.

"Have you got horses in here too?"

"Um, yeah, the same ones that were up in the corrals."

"You mean they've got all this space?"

"Yeah... I told you there was room for them to run and play."

"Well yeah but.... I can't even see the corrals!"

Once we were shooting, it was even more entertaining. The breeze was a little cold so we just rolled the windows down on the pickup and kept the heater running.

"This is so redneck!"

"Yeah, and?"

"I love it!"

Then, he decided he wanted to switch rifles, and try the one with the scope. In his attempt to render the bolt-action rifle safe, he pulled back the bolt and tried to unload it... of course, he touched the trigger once the bolt was open, and the bolt slid right out, so pretty much rendered it as safe as possible.

"What the heck? Um... Farmgirl... I think I broke it."

"It's not broken, it's just ready to clean now."

When it started getting good and cold, and the prairie dogs were bedding down for the night out of the breeze, I asked him if he wanted to try a few rounds on the revolver.

Keep in mind, when I showed him what dad had sent he got all excited, calling it a "Yosemite Sam gun."

"Yeah!"

"You have shot a handgun before, right? It's different than a rifle."

"A couple of times, yeah."

"Ok well just ask if you have any problems with the revolver."

"Ok, um, I have a problem."

"What?"

"How do I load it?"

It all went down hill from there.

First thing off he steps out and stands beside the truck, aiming at a pop can that I told him to set up as a target. He squeezed off one round and I looked over to check his aim..... and felt a sharp pain in the part of me that Farmdad beat proper shooting into.

E was standing facing his target dead on, both arms straight out and elbows locked, leaning back with his head cocked to the side like the Victrola Dog. He looked like he thought the dang gun was going to come back and bite him.

"E! Stop! I thought you told me you'd shot a handgun before!"

He stopped, surprised, said "I have, but never at a target," and popped off another round.

I bailed out of the pickup, went around to his side and said "Stop. Give me that. Jeez a strong breeze would knock you over in that stance... this is how you do it." I showed him weaver stance, while explaining how each limb is positioned.

"But why?"

"See how balanced I am? Nothing is going to rock me in this stance, I can hold it for as long as my arms hold out, and I can bring my gun back on target from recoil faster."

"Oh. I see."

So, he tried it, and his aim got a little better. (Who'da thunk it?)

"Ok, now, sight down your arm and through the sights."

"What do you mean through the sites? I'm lining them up!"

"Don't focus on your front sight. Focus on your target, and put the blur of the front sight on it. Then, take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squeeze the trigger." *Bang!* "See how much better that was?"

"Yeah, it makes sense now."

"Try a few more."

*Bang!* "OW! Holy crap what did I do?!?"

"Well, I wasn't looking at your hands at the time, but judging by the black smears on your thumb I'd say you put your thumb by the front of the cylinder and got yourself a powder burn."

So we covered, again, the proper placement of his hands. I think he'll probably remember that part next time.

He's excited to go back and shoot some more prairie dogs... and he's a little bit put out at handguns. He never did manage to hit the pop can, but he was getting close enough to make it dance.

Next time, I'll take a couple of the semi auto's in the larger calibers. Of course, he told me I sounded like a rap song when I told him that next time I'd bring a "nine" and a "forty five" for him to play with. I would have hit him but I settled for telling him that if he stood like he was holding a snake at the end of his arms when we shot the larger calibers he was going to get knocked on his butt.

We'll get him there. Boy wants to be a cowboy and can't shoot a dang revolver.... it's a crime.

20,000! Woot!

Hit 20,000 visits tonight, Huzzah! So, person from Hookerton, North Carolina, leave me a comment or send me an email claiming your prize! You get to pick a topic for me to write a blog post on!

Seriously, number 10,000 didn't claim their prize, so if you don't, then I'm gonna think that no one really cares what I'm writing about and start posting craziness.

Really. Show some love, dude.