Another Show for Oz!

Oz and I hauled out to his second halter show, and the boy once again turned a few heads!  This time we competed against seven other horses, and Oz took second.  Not bad for a range bred wild mustang!

Saddle training is moving along, though slower than I'd like.  We seem to only manage 2-3 days a week at best.  Daring has been doing most of the riding, with me at the end of the lungeline.  Oz is a big boy, and very powerful.  Though he's never offered to buck or be stupid, there's always that feeling of 'what if' when you're on him.  He's a smart colt and mentally ready for a lot more work.  Only problem is, he's not quite figured out the word WHOA.  Until he learns how to apply the brakes, we'll all just need to muddle along.

Meanwhile, Flirt is totally Sensational!

She is back down at the Cowboy's barn where I hope to really put in some serious time saddling her up and preparing her for her first ride.  There are still times when her wild side emerges, like today when there was a small child at the other end of the arena, and when a new horse walked through the barn.  She goes on full alert, drawing herself up tall with tightened muscles.

I'd just finished lunging her and had put the saddle on her back when the distraction came about this afternoon.  Not really what you want for a third time saddling and the first time in a new location, especially when you're not very consistent with the process.  But she didn't get goofy or anything, so I just worked her like nothing was going on at the other end of that arena.  She even loped for the first time while saddled and did splendidly.

Flirt's hives have broken off, but until her new summer coat arrives, and the winter one disappears, we're left with these goofy spots.

As long as I've got you here...how about a quick shot of what's going on down at the Cowboy's place?  

The Cowboy is now a Shepherd as well!  A couple months ago he purchased some sheep, and the ewes are beginning to lamb.  Aren't they adorable?

My niece and a new ewe lamb

Cascade Horse Fair

Do you recognize him? How about the horse?

This would be Ken McNabb and his horse, Stormy. Ken is a friend of Curt...and Stormy was purchased from Curt. Ken will be here at the Cascade Horse Fair in October. So will Curt. I'm not so sure about Stormy.

It's count down time, to be sure. October 29-30 at the Northwest WA Fairgrounds in Lynden, WA is where the event is being hosted, same as last year. Vendors, demonstrations, clinicians. And, of course...the famous HydraBull cutting competition!

This is the second year we'll be doing our Rail to Trail event, where horses compete in Ranch Horse Pleasure, Trail and Reining. Top ten advance to the free style where anything (well...nearly) goes!

It's gonna be a lot of fun. But I need your help in spreading the word! We'll be having drawings for free bags of grain all weekend along with many other goodies and treats for both spectators and competitors. Help me out! Share this post either in your blog or on facebook, and I'll put you in the drawing for an 8x10 photo of 'The Old Man'! Drawing to be held on Thursday...so post and let me know so I can get your name in the drawing!

the Spirameter

"Where have you been!?"

Okay, so...I hauled Kitty to a cutting where we rode in our first practice round on REAL LIVE COWS! Do you know the difference between riding at a cutting and just being there to watch? You take pictures of ant hills along the way, because during the cutting you're too worried about getting yelled at for not paying attention to what's happening. That's what the difference is!

One quick snap, that's all I got of my girl and the Cowboy while he was riding turnback.

Then it was time for the county fair, and I was hauling horses up to Lynden immediately upon getting home from the cutting on Saturday night.

We brought mustangs again for the public to go googlie eyed over.

Or perhaps it was the mustangs who went googlie eyed over the public?

Halfway through the week I had a brilliant plan.

"Mom, tell the truth. Your plan was less than brilliant."
"Hush your mouth, curler head girl. I'm telling this story!"

So anyway, I had this brilliant idea. I climbed on a fresh feeling mustang and went to ride in the great big empty arena and six am. It was a brilliant plan because that way when I landed at club dirt, no other horses were there to step on me. See? Brilliant! Shut up, Darling, no one asked you if I should have lunged the fresh feeling mustang before getting on him. No one at all.

Now...back to the story. Yes, I was sore, but I've been sore before and really, what can they do for a broken rib? So I went to the first aid people like a good girl once they opened (three hours later) and they gave me some ice and some advil and patted me on the head and told me it was good that I was wearing a helmet. Yes, my head was happy, but it sure didn't stop the smarting in the ribs. But it's fair week, and there's no whining, sniveling, complaining or crying during fair week...and I had four days left to go! So go I did. Just slowly.

Upon returning home, I decided to take the advice of everyone I know and walked into the walk in clinic.

Have you ever been to a walk in clinic? It's like the McDonalds of health care. "Would you like a CT Scan with that? Physical Therapy? How many Xrays can we take before you pass out?" I got the xrays, but declined on the rest, much to the angst of the doctor who reminded me of an anime cartoon. He did, however, talk me into a Spirameter.

A spirameter measures the air your lung takes in, and since one of my xrays showed that a lung of mine is refusing to move beneath those four broken ribs (oh, did I mention that?), they wanted to be sure I was exercising and forcing myself to take in more air.

On the spirameter are numbers which measure the units of air you're breathing in. First, you blow into that tube, then you breath as much air back into your lung as you can. For a person my age and height, I ought to be sucking in enough to make that blue disc at the bottom move up to the 2600 mark.

I made it go to 1500.

Okay, so I need to get cracking at this breathing thing if I'm ever going to have enough air in my lung to get back on and do some more cutting with Kitty. No question about it! Over the course of the weekend I've gotten myself breathing in to the 2000 mark, so I'm on my way.

As for the ribs, they're doing fine. I feel relatively little pain for the most part until I stand for too long or try to pick stuff up or move around more than I should. But other than that, I'm fine! Really! Or maybe it's the drugs...

Kitty stood in the middle of the barn alley, cross tied and saddled, when the cowboy came wandering in. I took one look at him, and had to ask the question, "Where are your boots? Aren't you going to ride first?" After all, the white board in the barn that tracked which horses were turned out or ridden on which day, had very clearly lacked an X alongside Kitty for a good, long time. Oh, she'd been turned out, but ridden? Not.

"She'll be okay. You just climb on and ride with one hand. You'll be fine," came the answer from the preoccupied trainer. So I slipped the snaffle into her mouth and ran the reins through the martingale rings, and into the saddle I swung.

Her walk, at first, was fast, as though in a hurry to make the first lap, but then it evened out into a long, smooth stride. Before moving into a trot, I went to two hands, and again she picked up the pace, moving a bit faster than a horse who'd been ridden regularly, but far more relaxed than one who'd only been ridden once in the past six or more months. Her lope was pretty much the same; a bit fast and uneven, but nothing stupid. At one point, when asking her to pick up the lope to the right, she thought she'd kick up her heels a bit, but that was it.

I asked her to walk and she came back down, no fight or fidget like you'd expect from a high power horse after a long break. A twinkling of blue eyes from the Cowboy, and the HydraBull started up. Kitty went straight to work with hard stops and fast turns. I'm pretty sure I had a stupid grin on my face the whole time.

It was a strangely odd experience, to be truthful. On one hand, it felt like stepping onto an old friend. Her size is similar to Sandy, and she rode a bit like him. The buttons were all in the same place, making it easy enough to figure out how to ride her. But her training was more fine tuned...she was much quicker to respond when working the bull.

Over the past few years, I'd walked past Kitty's stall, giving her nose a rub, wishing her owner would let me turn her out to play. But she wouldn't, so Kitty would stay in her stall while I cleaned out the others. I shut down any feelings for the mare that may have sprung forth...you know how that is, don't you? Some little tickle that says you could develop a liking, but you don't allow yourself to go there because in the end, it just causes grief. I turned my attention instead to the horses that belonged to the cowboy, especially the gray mare. I wasn't on Kitty more than fifteen minutes, but in that time, I knew there had been a reason for those early tinglings. This was a definite fit.

I rode Kitty again the following day. She nickered this time when she saw me. The following day, I brought Darling down and let her ride and get a feel for the little red mare. Darling wore the same stupid grin I had the first time.

Mustang VS Domestic

Years ago, 20 plus, I purchased a Golden Retriever. I'd stumbled upon an ad in one of the big dog publications for a breeder here in WA. It was listed in a town a couple of counties south. Lucky for me I had an uncle in that same town, and with that uncle, a telephone book. Mind you, this was before the internet was in every home across America, so telephone books were as close as you could to a Google search. We looked up the address, and off I went.

I drove down long and winding roads until I happened to find the residence of Dick and Ludell Beckwith. Sadly, no one was home. But I left a note on the door, and later that evening I received a phone call from Ludell to tell me that indeed, they did have a puppy available. It was one that had been reserved, but a divorce had taken place, and the soon to be ex-wife had called just that week to say they'd not be taking the pup.

I had no idea at the time that I was talking to whom some referred to as 'Grandma Golden', the matriarch of the golden retriever breed here in the northwest. I had gotten quite lucky, and as they say, timing is everything.

The pup I met on my return visit wasn't quite what I was looking for, however. I wanted a show dog, and this particular girl had a cowlick down the center of her face. She was pretty enough and conformationally correct, but the cowlick was a huge detraction. And all my dog books said "Buy the best you can afford." Well, she was certainly at the top of my price range, but there would be more pups, right? So I left.

Later that night I received another phone call from Ludell. "Tell you what," she said, "I have another pup. I was going to keep her. But you seem like you're serious about this, so would you be interested in a co-ownership?"

You may be wondering what on earth this has to do with mustangs and domestic horses. Well...it's in the lessons. That co-ownership with Ludell opened doors. I got lucky that day, as I later realized. Years after leaving the dog show world, I started making phone calls for my sister, who was searching for a new dog. Ludell had passed away, but the good breeders knew and respected her, and that co-ownership I had with her made otherwise closed doors open.

Fast forward. I want to cut. I want to show that mustangs are able to cut. But my little mustangs get little respect, and in all honesty, I don't know what I'm doing out there. So what to do? Buy the best you can afford, and team up with someone who's respectable. Okay...I've got the team, but as much as the cowboy is amused by my tinkering with wild ones, he insists that if I'm serious, I need a serious horse.

Enter Kitty, a five year old Quarter Horse that the Cowboy had started a few years ago. She's not been ridden much at all in the past couple of years...once every two to three of months, at best. Her owner had others that were a priority, and Kitty stood in a stall doing not much of anything. But on this one day, when I told the Cowboy that maybe I'd be interested in replacing Steve Holt! with something that could cut, his eyes lit up and he sent me out to 'saddle that mare'.

To Be Continued...

Cuttin' Loose!

Yesterday Darling and I climbed into the truck, along with Tucker, at 4 am. We picked up the Cowboy and the Doc, along with their horses, and hauled on down to the first cutting of the season for the Cuttin' Loose Club.

The Doc and The Cowboy

The Doc is 85 years old, and owns Darling's favorite cutting horse, Rosanna Montana. Rose and the Doc have been together for a few years now, and she knows her job. Stop That Cow!

Rose worked nearly perfectly for The Doc on Saturday, marking a 72 and giving him second place. Everyone cheers for The Doc...woo hoo's all around. Good ride, they tell him.

The Doc is congratulated by The Cowboy's Daughter.

The Cowboy had ridden Doxee as a turnback horse, one who stands in the corner and makes sure the cow in question stays where the competitor can work it well, inside the 'playing field' so to speak. Sometimes cows want to escape. Fancy that? The 'cutter' cuts a cow from the herd and then his horse works to stay between the cow and the herd. The rider keeps his hand down on the neck of his horse, giving it no help (ideally), as the horse works back and forth to keep the cow separated.

Doxee is the horse The Cowboy goes to when he wants one to work turn back, and she loves her job. A good turn back horse with a skilled rider can truly make or break a ride in some situations, and on this day, Doxee and The Cowboy did their job well, putting a smile on The Doc's face and a check in his pocket.

Gray Mare

The other day I drove south to clean a few stalls and ride a couple horses for the Old Cowboy. Sheza has developed sarcoids over the past few months, however, and one of them was beneath where the saddle sits. Up until now, I'd continued to ride, as it really didn't seem to be irritating her, and it was quite small.

Now, some of you may be asking what a sarcoid is. I'd heard of them for the first time a few years ago, but had never had a first hand encounter until now. There are several forms of sarcoids, but in short, they are skin tumors on horses, often benign, and somewhat common (or so says the Wiki page I found.)

Not only are there several forms of sarcoids, there also appear to be several ways and thoughts on how to treat them, from freezing to treating with a chemo agent or tying them off with a rubberband.

The sarcoids on Sheza are nodular sarcoids; firm lumps that raise up like warts. Two are small, but the one on her side had begun to grow and was now about the size of a fingertip. I'd discussed with Curt the best way to remove them. He had me don a pair of rubber gloves and handed me a cream which was a chemo agent. Before starting, he shaved the area around the nodules for easier application.

I'd have taken a photo, but for two things. One, my hands were wearing gloves and full of cream. Two, the battery was dead on my camera because I was smart enough to not notice that I'd bumped it into the 'on' position when putting it into my truck.

In any case, riding is currently out of the question. Curt believes it should only be 4-5 days before the one on her side has disappeared, but the cream needs to be applied daily until that time. It's rather disappointing to not be riding this girl, as she challenges me in ways my own horses do not. She's a great teacher for me.

But while I wait for her to heal, we'll have some super model fun (shhhh....don't tell Tika!)

Giving Lip and Lotsa Bull

About a week ago, friend McDebbie delivered a couple of horses here for Darling and I to start working. One of these was Primera, that adorable filly we had with us at the fair this past summer. Primera had only been saddled up once or twice since that time, so it was almost like starting over...but of course since it wasn't a huge issue the first time, it wasn't anything to write home about this time, either. We're looking forward to seeing how this girl progresses!

Meanwhile, down at Curt's, Tika has decided to start giving a little lip in objection to being tied and left to stand at the rail. This is not her favorite exercise, but certainly one she needs to figure out.

Of course, considering the happenings and goings on, she did quite well to only stand and make faces. Out behind the arena the tractor was busy loading manure from the compost bin into the dump truck, and inside the arena, raging back and forth directly behind her, was the bull.

Given all the extra noise and distraction, I opted not to climb aboard. Good enough just to stand and absorb all that was happening. She's a lovely observer, isn't she?

"Ride Her! Ride Her!"

There are just some days you're kinda glad there wasn't a video camera around, you know? Today was one of those days. I'd actually considered handing the old cowboy my camera, since yesterday's ride had gone so smoothly, but something stopped me. He probably wouldn't want to be hanging onto that while helping me, anyway.

As it turns out, he may have dumped it in the dirt, and Tika may likely have stomped it on her way across the round pen. Because today Tika did what I was afraid Tika might do. She hit the panic button.

"Ride her! Ride her!"

"Whoa!" (me)

"Whoa!" (Cowboy)

Do you know how long an 8 second ride is? Me either. No one clocked us. Not that she bucked, because Tika doesn't do that (much.) She simply dashed as quickly as she could, looking for a way out of whatever mess she suddenly thought she was in.

Curt had showed up at the round pen far sooner than usual. Typically I had ten minutes to lunge Tika and get the jitters out of her. But the last couple of rides we only worked half that time, and yesterday was such a good day. So relaxed, just walking and trotting, head lower and no real speed. We opted not to lope since she was listening and so quiet. So when Curt showed up and said, "She'll be okay,", I went ahead and climbed on.

And she was okay, really...except Curt was holding a coffee cup in his hand, and she didn't like him walking up to her with it because it was different than usual. He hid it behind his back and stood alongside her as I mounted, and it was business as usual. Then Curt did something totally foreign to Tika, and he stood off to the side along the wall so that we had room to do a few figure 8s.

Tika was unsure. He wasn't where he was supposed to be, and again with the cup! What was up with the cup? She didn't know, and she didn't care. I got a couple of circles in when something sparked in her mind, and we were off to the races where I could hear Curt's voice hollering at me over the sudden drumming of hoofbeats on the round pen floor.

I kept my hands low, grabbing that glorious mane, in an attempt not to snatch at her mouth and make things worse. She darted quickly around the pen in a mad dash, and at one point I wondered if she bucked, but I think it was more of a bounce, the kind you'd see a frisky lamb or bounding deer do. All four legs like pogo sticks, elevating the body upward. She did that only once, and at some point Curt had managed to get off the rail and was again in the center of the round pen, stepping in front of her in an effort to stop or turn her.

She elected to turn. At least twice, maybe three times. Turn and burn, dash 38' to the other side, slam on the brakes, turn and burn again. I tried to keep my body loose, but each time she stopped, I felt myself moving forward like a crash test dummy. Both Curt and I hollered whoa a couple of times, and eventually the ride came to an end, with Tika heaving and wondering what the heck had happened. I'd love to be able to tell her, but I really don't know. And the cowboy just figures it was the coffee cup, "She notices everything."

Once the fun was over, we went back to walking and trotting and getting her mind back into some sort of order. When she relaxed, we called it good. And here I was just thinking she may be ready to come home. Not sure about that now!

Best Day After Christmas...EV~AH!

It was a day like any other day, in the beginning. A bit warm for December, but wet and windy. I climbed out of bed a bit later than usual and headed outside in the dark to toss hay to the three horses here at home. I then climbed into my truck and headed south to see Tika.

Curt's been a little slow the past few days to get out into his barn, and I've found myself pulling up to an arena who's door is still closed. This morning, however, the door was open and I found him in the barn, along with his border collie pup, Patch, tossing hay into stalls. I picked up the hose and finished up the watering for him, and we went inside to have our coffee (him) and hot chocolate (me) while waiting for the horses to finish up.

We talked about how we'd spent Christmas. Curt's wife had purchased him a sport coat and trousers, a dress shirt and sweater. Evidently she wants him to meet some of her friends from her high school days, "and she doesn't want me looking like a cowboy, I guess", he said with a wink. I wonder if he'll still wear his cowboy hat?

After finishing up our drinks, I told him I was going to get my mare out. "Work her in the arena a bit; that sand will wear her down a bit." Sure thing, boss! And so I saddled her up and rather heading to the round pen, we went into the arena where the footing is nice and deep and indeed will wear a horse down a bit quicker.

It wasn't long before Tika was feeling a bit warm on her chest, but there was no heavy breathing, and she was working quietly at a long trot when Curt came walking in. "Where's your helmet?" he inquired.

My eyes about popped out of my head. "You don't mean to put me on her in the arena!"

"No, just go get it." And I did. And from there we walked to the round pen, where Curt worked Tika in a few circles, getting her to move out fast, stop, turn, move fast again. All the while she was watching him, eyes wide, that half startled look on her face. But she listened. My girl listened. And then he picked up the stirrup and slapped the fender against her her side with force enough to make a loud clapping noise, but she barely moved, just looked at him, head held high, out of the corner of her eye.

He rubbed her neck, speaking quietly. Asked her to step forward with him a few steps, stopped, stroked her face. She dropped her head, letting out a sigh.

"Go ahead. Get on her."

My foot slipped into the stirrup and I bounced up, leaning over the saddle, rubbing her neck. I stepped back to the ground, picked up some mane in my left hand and bounced back up above her. This time my leg went over and I sat down in the saddle.

"Got your foot in the stirrup?" I nodded, and Curt began moving his feet, back and forth, side to side, in an attempt to get Tika to take those first few steps with him. My weight acted like an anchor. She wanted to follow him, but I was on top...so what should she do?

Curt stepped to the side, positioning himself like you would when lunging a horse. Tika, though, faced up. "Pull her nose away from me a bit," he said. I did, and she followed it enough for him to step back to her hip...

...and we were off!

Tika went to the rail, unsure at first, trotting a few steps, hesitating until Curt asked her to move forward, and off she went again. One time she even broke into a fast lope, which only lasted two strides but was enough to throw me over the horn of the saddle when she slammed to a stop. She watched and listened to Curt as he moved her forward, slowed her down, moved her again. "Keep your legs relaxed, don't tell her what to do, let me do the work until she figures it out," he said, all the while keeping his eyes on my redheaded girl.

It was only a few minutes. But to me? Today, I rode the wind.

Driving Miss Tika

Among the many things Tika has learned to cope with over the past year, the most important was her lesson in standing tied. She would fly into a panic the moment she realized she hit the end of a rope, and that is certainly not a good thing. I'd tried several different methods, the one leg hobble (she stood with her foot raised to her chin waiting for someone to rescue her), the blocker tie ring (hello? What good is a tie that isn't really tied?), and simply wrapping that long rope around the hitching rail. But if it could be pulled loose, it was. And if it couldn't? She'd sit down and pull like her life depended on it. She broke a halter and a snap on her lead (granted, not a heavy duty snap) before I decided ground tying was good enough.

But then one day, she figured it out. She pulled back, and nothing gave way, so she stood nice and relaxed as I saddled her up. What was with that? A week later, same thing. Pull, give up, and that was it. Last week I tied her to the hitching rail at the riding club and even saddled her up from the off side without her coming unglued. My girl is figuring it out.

And she's beautiful, too, don't you think?

Ooops...back on track.

I went to the hardware store and bought some rope and snaps this past weekend. Yesterday I hauled the Diva to the arena and clipped the snaps to her halter and began ground driving. This was horrifying to Tika. How dare I stand so far behind and demand she move forward! Unacceptable. And turn? What the heck was that all about? Good grief, I swear we looked like a blind woman teaching a six year old how to drive her to the corner market for a bottle of whiskey.

But that was yesterday. Today? Much better. Tika was more relaxed. That is to say, less frantic. She still trotted out and even cantered at one point (round pens...gotta love 'em!), but she learned to give and started making some bends and turns without completely coming unglued.

And then? What was I thinking? We went out into the big arena where there were no panels to hold us together. And we walked down the middle, and turned left and right; a little sloppy, somewhat confused, but we did it. We stopped, and even though the head went sky high, it was a stop and a wait for the next command. Rather than pushing the panic button in the larger space, Tika actually relaxed and listened. I was so, so proud of her, and my confidence in our first ride is climbing.

Meanwhile...Curt has been busy in his future saddle shop. I stopped in for a bit this morning to see what had been going on over the weekend. The panels are on the walls, the ceiling is up, and the door is in place. Coming right along, Mr. Storbakken! Before long we'll have that online leather works shop up and running!

Curt looks at the paneling he's just hung in the stairwell.

Alright Already!

Where, oh where, has the time gone? Into a black hole known as the Quarter Horse Zone, that's where! One must be careful when trodding through QHZ, because once you're there? It's hard to find your way back to the Mustang Diaries.

Yesterday morning, City Boy said to me, "You know, you've not posted to your blog in a long time. How am I supposed to know what you're doing, if you're not posting?"

Later in the day I received a phone call from my mother with virtually the same message, "Hey, are you alive or dead?"

Okay, so I'm alive. And thanks to family, back on track.

Among the things I've been busy doing these past couple of weeks is helping Curt build his saddle shop. He's had his machines in the garage of a client, but has decided to move everything home where it will be closer and easier for him to work. There had been a viewing room built into the barn above stalls, but it hadn't ever been completed. Three windows looked out over the arena, but it was cold and dark and certainly quite dusty with no glass in place.

Last week he and I went to the lumber store and picked up the wood he'd need to start framing. Two windows were blocked, while the middle one was cut to a larger size to fit the windows being donated by a friend. Styrofoam insulation has been cut and put into place. We looked like a snow storm had blown in by the time we were finished. Actually...by the time ten minutes were up we were pretty much covered with the stuff.

Yesterday the wood was placed on the ceiling. Today? The walls will start going up. Walls, as in, the part that covers the insulation, because obviously there are already walls. I'm sure there are technical terms for all of this, but do I know what they are? Nope. And Curt just rolls his eyes at me and hollers 'No, the other side, the other side, the other other side! Sheesh, I'll never make a carpenter's apprentice out of you!'

Come to think of it, I've not even been in the QHZ this past week. I need to ride!

Time to Get Busy

Despite the aching toe, it was time to get busy. I loaded Lefty into the trailer, he turned around and backed into his corner just like that's the way you're supposed to do it. He learns quick, that's for sure. I tied his head alongside the hay bag and swung the divider closed in front of his chest.

"Just remember, I'm leaving for work soon, so no breaking down or getting hurt!", City Boy called to me. I wonder if he was speaking of the truck breaking down, or me?

I hopped into the cab of the truck and off we went.

I was hoping no one would be at the riding club, so that I could simply back up to the big door and unload Lefty straight into the arena. If he bolted, I wanted him to be safe. As I pulled up the driveway I was relieved to find that we had the parking lot to ourselves...that made it easy to back up to the door.

Lefty was nervous when I opened up the trailer doors. He stood there all tense and wide eyed, but since he was facing me I was able to simply stand there and talk to him, convincing him to relax before I opened the divider and untied him. It only took a minute or two for him to soften up, and rather than bolt from the trailer after his ride, he stepped quietly to the edge, stopped and looked around, then exited like a gentleman.

YEAH!

While we were there we played with the big red rubber ball, backed between ground poles and even laid out a couple of barrels and backed between them. I took video. Have I edited said video? No. No, I have not. But I will, and I'll show you! It was nothing short of fabulous for both of us. Bolstered my self esteem as well as Lefty's. He wasn't too sure about all the 'toys' I had out, but he did what was asked and I was so very proud of him.

Meanwhile...down south a bit I've begun riding the half sister to the big red mare I was riding earlier this year. Chica is also a granddaughter of the great Peppy San. She's big, she's black, and she's just a little scared. My kinda girl! The video is my second ride on her. She's only had roughly 7 months of riding her entire life, and this is following a 7 month layup.

Please excuse the fact that the camera seems to be focused in the rafters...

The following day, Chica got scared while I was on her. She struggles when she sees things out of the corner of her eye, and while we were standing in the arena she turned her head and spotted me. Panic city! She bolted forward with lightening speed, me with droopy reins and totally unprepared. But I managed to get my 'breaks' collected and hollered whoa, and she came to a stop. After that, she spooked a couple more times, but I managed to get her back under control each time.

It was good for me. Really, really good, because this is what I've been afraid Tika will do. Of course, Tika's not got the breaks that Chica has, but my confidence level bounced up for the second time that day, and I'm feeling very good about where I'm at mentally. And all it took was a run away horse!

Sometimes?

Ya just gotta play!

Me? Well, obviously, I've been playing in Photoshop!

I've also been playing up at the riding club. Better check out Duns in his new video! This was Sunday...his second trip down into the arena and working in the round pen. You like? Come adopt! He'll be at the Northwest WA Fair with me beginning Aug 16!

What's That Bright Thing In the Sky?

It's been such a wet, dark and dreary spring that I'd almost forgotten what sunshine looked like. There is a saying here in the northwest that summer doesn't begin until the fifth of July. Looks like this year, it's the sixth, as temps move from the 50's to the 80's almost overnight!

I gotta share this with you...Cowgirl Candy! She's one of the Cascade Horse Fair sponsors. Cute stuff and loads of bling...like this headstall!

Okay, so I'm down at the cutting a couple weekends ago and Curt says, "We got an idea for your event."

"Great," I say...full of curiosity.

"How about a Hydra Bull cutting? We'll have a novice class, and an open class. Get a few bulls there, they draw their driver and cut their bull from the 'herd', just like a real cutting."

Got a mental image of this? I'm so in...

Ladies Glisten

This past weekend Darling and I headed southeast a bit to a cutting held in Sunnyside, WA. It was the Big Bang cutting, a benefit for one of their members who's stage 4 throat cancer. I recently got Curt a sponsorship with Equiscience, and they also offered to donate several bags not only as prizes to the cutters, but 10 more bags to the auction. Great folks there at Elenbaas!

The weather was absolutely fantastic...a little warm compared to what we're used to here, but bright and sunny and...oh, heck, it was so blistering hot we were miserable! Darling went outside to photograph, but I stuck to the indoors. I've been told that ladies don't sweat...we glisten! Well, I tell you what, while I was outside I did so much glistening my face was dripping! Indoors, folks...indoors is where I spent my time.

Now, listen to me here. I'd like to shed a couple pounds, and I believe I did over the weekend, simply through all my glistening. But now, here's the problem. I don't know if you know this about me, but I have narrow hips. Nearly non-existent. But muffin top? I've plenty of muffin to share. Did I lose weight where I needed to? No. No, I did not. And do you know what happens when one loses weight on already narrow hips?

I'll tell you what happens. One's pants begin to slip off. And this is not a good thing! Polite society expects you to wear pants. Or at least dresses, of which I own but one and it simply would not do to wear it to a cutting. Unless you're Darling, who wore an adorable little yellow skirt along with MY cowboy boots (they matched better!) I can't believe I came home without a photo of her! That's what happens when you're glistening so hard.

Despite the fact that I was glistening hard enough to cause droplets to appear on the end of my nose (which I'm sure made a terrific impression), we did manage to have a good time, and came away with some fun photos of the folks there cutting cows.

And, of course, a few rail birds!