Friday, March 04, 2011

I, Equitator: Day Seven – Broken saddles & bruised balls

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I, Equitator: Day OneDay TwoDay ThreeDay FourDay FiveDay SixDay SevenDay EightDay Nine

Today’s lesson can be summarized in a few succinct points:

1) Charlotte is abnormally adorable for a great big dummy. (Who rolls around in pee.)

2) Finding the proper equipment that fits her ginormous frame shall always be far more time-consuming than the actual brushing and saddling combined.

3) Which, ergo, forces me and my tutor to spend about 2/3 of every hour I spend there just dealing with how to put the right hackamores and bits on correctly over Charlotte’s great big dummy head.

4) Polly, default leader of the group (when Charlotte’s not around), likes her stall clear of any equipment. Go in if you wish, but try to bring in a rake or a wheelbarrow and she’ll send you packing. Or so I heard. Not dumb enough to try.

5) I’m really getting quite good at mounting and dismounting, though not so much at getting my second foot into its corresponding stirrup once I’m up there.

6) Also, “up there” is really freaking high. I’m happy for my 6’1” frame.

7) Charlotte appears to have a learning deficit disorder. No other diagnosis explains why she keeps turning the other way than the one I pull the reins in, however insistently.

8) Trying to get her to start trotting is hard.

9) Trying to get her to stop trotting is harder.

10) Trying to stay on in between starting and stopping is an exercise in steely leg muscles and a need for titanium balls. (You gals have it easy. Trust me.)

11) (Then again, you have great bouncing blobs of flesh attached to your chest, so you might have it worse, really. I dunno.)

12) …

*cough* Sorry.

13) Ten measly minutes of riding feels like … well, ten measly minutes of riding. Or anything fun. Your pick.

14) These lessons have given me my first real yearning for every upcoming Friday since I left school two years ago. Feels almost nostalgic. But for a wholly better reason.

15) Totally fucking worth the $500.

Okay, enough chatter. Here be your pics.

Here’s Polly, aforementioned capricious second-in-command:

And Rosco, resident elder and thin enough to pass for a supermodel (albeit far more natural-looking):

And here’s Kéffir the rebel, giving his rider the stink-eye:

Kéffir, posing defiantly
Offense: Unknown. Sentence: Nose bitten off
[full size (1200×900)]

Here’s Caramel, back in her little niche, watching me, observing my movements, undoubtedly preparing to attack savagely …

Or, perhaps she was just tired, as evidenced by the fact that she then spotted Blackie, here …

… and promptly turned him into a pillow.

Caramel lying across Blackie
Cats: Don’t underestimate them
[full size (1200×900)]

Seriously wish I could go there every day.