Horse Blog

The place was crammed full of fans, and Jennifer opened up the show singing not a country song, but one by none other than Sting. More than a few confused looks were exchanged between the cowboy hat- and boot-wearing crowd, but pretty soon they were having a good ol' time. Soon the country twang kicked in and there was some serious cowboy dancin' going on. Ha! Fun times!

We laughed about this and both felt kind of sorry for this woman because it seems that he has not changed one iota since I dated him over 10 years ago. Wardrobe still consists mainly of cycling gear and it is like pulling teeth to get him to put "real" clothes on. And when he does you almost wish for the cycling clothes ---- flannel shirts, bad jeans, cowboy boots, etc. Real redneck gear. And forget ever leaving the North Shore, let alone travelling anywhere. Small-minded ignoramus is this boy's middle name.

There’s a strange dynamic between people in the airport. There are differences in this dynamic from place to place. In the OKC airport there’s a sense of denial that this is the Midwest. Oklahoma seems to be Texas’ fucked up little brother. For example, it’s pretty easy, even for me to tell the fat guys in bad suits with big, asinine cowboy hats from Texas from the fat guys in bad suits with big, asinine cowboy hats from Oklahoma. It’s really hard to explain. To dress like that and pull it off, you really have to be so vapid that you really don’t know any better and think you look great – thus Texans. But the Oklahoma folk; to their credit, know it looks stupid but that doesn’t seem to stop them from wearing it in an attempt to look like they’re from somewhere other than Oklahoma. They don’t even seem to give much thought to whether that somewhere else is even better than Oklahoma – I mean, how fucked up does your perspective have to be for you to wish like hell that you were from Texas? So any points they get for knowing better than to wear that hat are taken away ten-fold for knowing better and doing it anyway. And don’t get me wrong, I know there are cowboys in Oklahoma; that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying the cowboys in Oklahoma aren’t allowed to leave Oklahoma and as such, would have no need to be in the airport. And I don’t think the cowboys are too terribly bothered by not being able to leave Oklahoma.

There’s something about New Mexican green chile cheeseburgers, the way they make your mouth smart as you eat them, like you’re eating green glass. And the kinds of green chile cheeseburgers you get at rodeos, or Frito pies for that matter — chile served inside actual Fritos bags — well, they’re enough to make you want to give up writing your book and become a rodeo clown instead. Or at least a rodeo clown sulking outside a green chile cheeseburger shop, where the painted french fries look like stylized mustaches made of mustard.

Everyone (Joshua through Matthew) from our family that took a project to the fair received blue ribbons. Joshua and John will advance on to the State Fair with their video and fishing projects. Abigail will take her horse training project, Keylee, to the state horse show.

Another makeover while not so recent was certainly a step in a somewhat fashionable direction. I’m referring to the clothing of the Koolaid Man. Like most brand mascots The Koolaid man is not in fact a man and in this case he is a pitcher of red Koolaid. And until the early 70’s he didn’t even have his Koolaid filled limbs. He does not prance around in the snow so you won’t find a pair of flat front chinos and a cable knit sweater on his Gap wish list. Nor is Mr Koolaid a high fashion pitcher model, you won’t see him sauntering down the catwalk in D&G any time soon. Even the aforementioned Twinkie the Kid only sports strictly work related accessories like a neckerchief, cowboy boots and a hat. So I never really considered the fact that apparently, my entire childhood was bombarded with nude images of an unclothed Koolaid Man.

Okay, so I work for Saddle & Bridle and they have been working me like crazy the past month. I did a show in Lexington, then a week off, then one in North Carolina, one in Shelbyville, one in Illinois (yep, three weeks in a row), then a week off, and I wind it all up with the granddaddy of them all, the World’s Championship Horse Show. Really, this show is like a marathon. The schedule and number of classes has gotten so out of control. There are 240 classes this year, and probably at least 20 of those will be split into two. My horse trainers are judging it this year, and I feel really bad for them. It’s a grueling week and no one is ever happy with all of the judges’ decisions. I just feel that not every horse is of the caliber that can compete there, and if you aren’t, don’t go. After all, with no qualification system or anything it’s just another horse show. I have shown both of my five gaited horses there over the years and it is fun, but so is every other show. I’ve had to sit out for awhile from showing because of Rocky’s abscess in her ankle, and it was tough. I really wanted to be in that ring.

I wanted to become a riding instructor/barn manager. Yes, I was a horse-crazy teenager who’d spent years hanging around barns, taking lessons, entering in horse shows and patching up my certifiably crazy thoroughbred so that we could occasionally join the fox hunt and more often just go jumping anything that stood still. I even got a course catalog from Meredith Manor and wrangled a visit to the campus. But then I decided to fast track through high school in three years and accept the early admission from Purdue. Going off to my hometown university at barely seventeen seemed a bit easier than moving several states away to pursue equestrian studies.

The fair starts today. I’m a little bit excited about it; mostly that’s just because this year I’m going to the rodeo and the demolition derby. I know, I know, it sounds awful oakie or redneck or whatever farm town slur you wanna throw my way. That’s alright with me though. I really don’t mind…I love rodeos. I started working security for rodeos when I was 14. I was already a regular at the arena since my infatuation (ok, so he was my boyfriend, but in retrospect, I was 14…what the hell did I know about anything??) was a bull rider. He went pro, by the way.

After any trip however, there is a period of 'coming down' from the high of intense one-on-one social interaction along with little old ladies kissing baby toes. I would equivocate this to a heroin addict trying to kick his habit. This always makes the first day and a half back a bit of a challenge. If they made baby straight jackets, I would have been running off to Target to get one. It was like breaking in a wild, bucking, quarter horse. This kid really needed a fix. He needed to score some serious toe kissing, balloon pulling, constant motion, meet new people, feed me, hold me, get down on the floor with me time. And he was willing to sell his Fisher Price Cradle Swing for a bag of it.

Today I took my friends from Alabama to Del Mar for the Horse Races. We bet on 3 races, but never won. It was really fun, and we learned something new. I recommend it!

What was funny, was that the fact my husband had shorts on, no shirt and was wearing cowboy boots. Thus we nicked named him Opossum Slayer. He is such a brave hunter….

This is my friend Nick he told me it was ok to post his pics on here. Nick is 20 and looking for a boyfriend. Any Takers? Leave him a comment. Don't you think he looks cute in his cowboy hat? Got to love them gay rednecks!

First off, Filthy Rich Cattle Drive involves a bunch of celebrity/insanely wealthy kids. Most of which I have never heard of. One is the daughter of the Yahoo CEO (who I think is a total bitch), one is George Foreman's son (I like him because he seems the most grounded of them all), and one is Pat Benatar's daughter (she's really cute, I didn't even know she had a daughter), etc. etc. They flew all these rich kids out to Colorado to be on a ranch and learn how to drive cattle from the experienced employees that work on the ranch. Then they have to actually drive a herd of cattle to another place. You can imagine the possibilities here. It totally cracks me up. Just watching the whole wardrobe thing is cracking me up. They bought their cowboy hats at Fred Segal.

I spent the day out at the horse show. EW was riding, her brother, his friend and I were along for the ride. As far as that kind of thing went, it was pretty low key. But there were fancy cars and fancy horses. When I think about riding these days, I want to be on the trail. I want to be going places you can only go on a horse, like into the past. This is a whole different thing. And as ridiculously expensive as it is, what’s nice is that everyone involved seems really into it. They are really into the horses, and into riding.

On Friday, I went to the Del Mar horse races for the first time and I didn’t win anything. I only placed 2 bets since I was not familiar with all the different types of bets you can make. I stuck with “Exacta Box” hoping I’d win. One horse I chose came in first place but the one I chose for 2nd place didn’t make the cut. Overall, it was nice for never having been.

Saturday I got up early and went to visit my parents. I took Xoch with me. I needed to pick up some stuff and drop some stuff off, and I hadn’t been out there in a while. I brought my cameras (digital and Advantix) so that I could take some pictures and maybe use some in redecorating my bedroom. I decided on a western/country look for the bedroom since I already had my cowboy hats hanging on the wall and the deer antlers.

The rest of the day was spent cutting north to I-90 in South Dakota and heading home. We made it as far as Mitchell, SD before weariness and a big storm caused us to spend the night at the Econo Lodge. The next day got us into Rochester at noon, just in time to watch Sara’s daughter, Steph, ride in the horse show at the Olmsted County Fair. More on that tomorrow…

More often than not, those cold fronts are bearable. But bearable to a Texan is hot enough to thaw out a Northerner. I may have left a Pennsylvanian airport full of dark colored puffy coats and asexual beings scuttling around, but when I step off the plane in Texas, more than just the stewardesses are wearing skirts and rosy cheeks. The airport stores are still selling cowboy hats and cheesy shorts next to the Texas sized jellybeans, and aside from the occasional jacket or sweater, everyone looks just like they did back in October. Sweaty and happy to be where they are.

Ok so Tucson casual really implies jeans and cowboy boots…or so I am told. And that isn’t really the exact subject of this blog, but it makes for a snappy title.

I have argued for years that "modern country" (or "young country" or "hot country" or whatever the local radio station calls it) is just rock/pop repackaged with cowboy boots, a hat, and a (usually fake) southern drawl. Apparently the labels have decided that its not even necessary to repackage any more, but that just calling it "country music" is enough.

Yesterday, I had a work function at Del Mar Fairgrounds. I have to admit that I have some moral opposition to horse races (though I’m much more passionate about irresponsible dog breeders and pet stores). It was still fun, though, and the horses are just beautiful. Pure, solid muscle. Brad was taking his last final while I was at the picnic, so Sam went with me instead. He did place some bets, and was actually pretty successful, especially for a guy that picks horses based on their names.