Speaking of Eye's I Love and Ladybugs!

This dog... he's got my heart for now and forever.

In our home, all creatures great and small are welcome...

....well almost all creatures.... I dont usually welcome insects.... however, I've never quite been able to bring myself to kill a ladybug... unless you count sucking them up with the vacuum (but I like to think that they dont really die when I do that)....

Even LuLu doesn't seem to know what to make of them...

Here is LuLu sniffing out a ladybug....



Here is the ladybug sniffing out LuLu....

(Note Pingu watching (from the Kleenex box) in the background.)

When you find a ladybug in your house do you sweep it up and toss it out the door, leave it alone or *gasp* kill it?

**No ladybugs were harmed in the making of this post**

Jewel Pictures- As Per Your Request

I was able to get out today and ride Jewel, my lease horse. It was the first time all week (and in the five rides (yay!!)) that I've been alone at the barn. While I've really enjoyed all of the people I've met and have relished in being able to talk horses for hours on end, I have to say it was really nice to just spend some one on one time with a horse.


And I cant think of another horse (besides my mare Abby) that I'd rather spend time with right now than Jewel- she is a genuine sweetheart and every bit a mare- perpetually hungry, has "something to say" and avoids hard work but ultimately very willing to please and a love bug.

Look at that face! How can you not want to lay your cheek against that muzzle?

I love that Jewel has such expressive eyes.

Jewel is about twice as chunky as she appears in the above photo. I was surprised at how little she looked in the pictures when I uploaded them.

That eye really won me over. I am going to have to work really hard not to fall head-over-heels in love this one...

She's a gem.

The English Saddle- An instrument of torture.

Today I had my second English riding lesson....if you could call what I did "riding". While I absolutely loved every minute of it there is no doubt in my mind that the English saddle was designed as an instrument of torture (for the out-of-shape rider). I am not going to claim to have stoically bared the pain- I actually called my instructor "evil" at one point... though of course she is anything but. I am actually thrilled with my instructor , she is really nice, very good at directing me through a problem and blessedly encouraging. I like her- even if she did make me ride two point until my legs burned, my knees shook and my expression became set in a look that can only be defined as, *I am going to die, sweet-mother-of-.... holy shit, I'm going to die! "

Did I mention that I loved every minute of it?

Good!

Though I have to admit that at times I was really frustrated with not being able to meet the physical demands of riding.... with being unable to will my protesting muscles into the right position. But it will come with time. And because I rode hard and pushed my body to the limit today, I'm one step closer to getting to where I want to be tomorrow. And that feels good... even if my legs are gettin' fit to stage a strike :)

I am going to see my lease horse, Jewel tomorrow and will be sure to get some pictures to post. I might have to walk to the barn like a eighty-year-old bowlegged cowboy but by god I'm getting on a pony again tomorrow if it kills me!

Till then. Cheers! *downs two Advils*

I dreamed I blogged in my Maidenform Bra!

Well I am just stunned at the results of my latest (but not creepy) poll. For those of you who dont know I have this weird little inner voice that has a peculiar obsession with poll topics.... it's like this... I'm doing the dishes when, for the umpteenth time, I knock over the dish soap that DB insists "goes" on the windowsill. I think to myself that most people would think that the dish soap "goes" under the sink and in my desperate search for validation I consider putting a poll on my blog asking, "Where do you keep your dish soap?". But it doesnt end there. I then think this is really a question of "Does your husband have a say in household affairs?" or maybe better yet, "Who is the neat freak in your family"..... or "Do you have a dishwasher?", "Did you grow up with a dishwasher?", "Do you worry about dishwashers being eco-wasteful?", "Do you try to be eco-friendly?" and it goes on from there. It's weird. I know. But once my mind get's to thinking about poll questions it runs out of control.

Hence my latest poll. My question, the last in a series that started with DB complaining about the natural disaster site that is my underwear drawer and that ended with this odd thought about how women do up their bra (back or front). And see! I was right to be intrigued because I would NEVER have guessed that the solid majority (65%) do it up in the front and then slide it around to the back! I would have laid good money on the results being just the opposite. But maybe that is because I'm a "in the back" girl. That doesnt sound right.

In looking for pictures to go along with this post I found a site with advertisement photos from the Maidenform Bra's ad campaign of the 50's and 60's that featured the line, "I dreamed I _______ in a Maidenform Bra!" I think these ads are adorable! Here is a link to where you can order prints of those shown here and many more!

What would you dream of doing in a Maidenform bra?

Girl Out of the Honky-Tonk

Ever heard that expression, “You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk but you cant take the honky-tonk out of the girl?” Well…

When my DB and I first got together I proudly called myself a redneck. I had the love of jacked up trucks, mud rallies, beer-drink-boys, “shootin’ shit”, small towns, rodeo, country music, and to top it off I had a mouth that could put a sailor to shame…(okay so maybe a few of the above could be true today). I remember when we headed out to our first dinner function together, it was a formal affair at a very nice restaurant in the city and I was young enough that my hands shook with nerves as I got dressed trying to figure out how to play the high-class woman when I was nothing but a small-town girl. If it was one thing I knew- these boys wouldn’t be impressed by a vintage Coors shirt cut too short or my cowboy boots with genuine horse shit on the heels- oh no sir-ee!…

I put on everything new- tall, strap back pumps, a black and oh-so-sexy power suit cut to my shape topped with enough bling at my ears and throat to make it all look Hollywood glam. I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman…only minus the whole hooker bit.

My stomach was a knot of anticipation thinking that unlike Viv there was no handy concierge for a last minute “what fork is what” lesson and to make matters worse we were running late, the car was waiting and I was missing the back to my earring. My nerves, already frayed, decided this minor problem rated as certain catastrophe and so I set madly about the house looking under every table and chair for a not-so- proverbial needle in the haystack. The only thing standing between me, the perfect outfit and my least thread of my sanity was that itty bitty piece of medal. DB, in typical unsympathetic male fashion called to me “I am getting in the car. Forget the damn earrings. We’ve got to go!”
Panic set my cheeks flaming as a cold sweat broke out over my body. My search continued- it had to be here! But it was no use. Just then- an idea!

Not a moment later I was floundering my way out the door, my feet slick with sweat and teetering like a new foal in too- high heels.

I settled back in the plush leather seat, gasping at the cool air-conditioned air and waited for my pulse to return to even. DB turned in his seat to look me up and down with unconcealed awe. Seeing that look was worth all the effort- and then some. He leaned over to murmur huskily in my ear, “You look like a million dollars”. As he pulled back his eye fell on my earrings with a smile, “Oh you found the back?”
I shook my head and grinned- half sheepish, half smug, “Not really but I made it work.”
There was a glint in his eye- he knew me all too well, “What do you mean?”
I just turned, smiled real slow and said, “Honey, you can take the girl out of the honky-tonk but you cant take the honky-tonk out of the girl.”
I fingered my ear and cocked my head so he could see. There, wound neatly around the end and holding my earring firmly in place was the unmistakable gray of the always handy, but rarely handsome duct tape.
That night, whenever my nerves got the best of me I only had to think of my earring taped to my ear- Red Green style- to remind me of who I was.

Today I felt much the same as that night so long ago.

This afternoon I had my first English riding lesson. Before I left for the barn I was a bundle of nerves, feeling out of place and out of sorts. I didn’t have the right clothes, boots or gear. I knew from previous experience that half-chaps, (a leather sheath that protects your inner calve from being chaffed by the stirrup leathers) could mean the difference between a good ride and a distracting pinch or sore. I fretted between spending the $45 for a pair or holding off until I was sure this was something I’d do more than once.

This afternoon I had a fantastic riding lesson. It was incredible. I loved every single minute of it. The horse was awesome, the instructor, amazing and I had FUN to boot. And through it all I took some small comfort in knowing that I wore my favorite, unforgivably ugly and distinctly western boots and under my jeans- redneck half chaps….more commonly known as vet wrap.

It's Raining Horses!!!

I signed a lease today on a mare named Jewel!!!! I am SO excited!!! AND I've ridden two times in as many days and I'll be three for three tomorrow! How happy am I? THRILLED.

Pictures will be soon to come on Jewel. She is about 14.2, bay with a bright white star, built like a brick shite-house and as cute as a button. My English lesson is tomorrow AND I was offered another horse to ride last night.

When it rains, it pours.... It's rainin' horses baby!!!

Britches, Half Chaps and Helmets, Oh My!

On Monday I'm going to the dark side.... That other world filled with britches, half chaps, and helmets, oh my!

My bum and this....

will meet.

Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

On Monday I am going to take an English lesson...and not the kind that involves a bunch of verbs, nouns and spelling bees. And guess what I am not even that nervous about it! What I really feel, oddly enough, is... liberated. Because I have placed absolutely NO expectations on my ability to ride well on Monday. As a matter of fact, I am virtually guaranteed to suck. And that, for me, comes as a welcome relief.

Why?

Because I have a driving ambition when it comes to reining... I want to be good... no, great! I have idols that I want to emulate. I have a fixed idea in my head of what I want my body to be doing...even if I cant seem to get it done. And most importantly, I understand how badly I suck at reining...because I have a clear idea of where I want to be... and just how far I am from being there. Sometimes I even want to do something right soooo bad that I get in my own way.

Which is why my lesson Monday will come as a welcome relief. All I have to do is show up and try. That's it... just try, learn, have fun and broaden my equine horizons.

How do they say giddy-up in the English world? Tally-ho!?!

Dirty Bunny

(1)

Wow! The comments made on my post "Breed Profiling" is the perfect example of why I love to blog! I am grateful to have such reasonable, intelligent and sincere people to reflect ideas off of and with whom to debate the endless questions, concerns and controversies of the crazy world of horses!

It seems the overwhelming sentiment of our collective comments was that a horse must be judged and treated as an individual.

While I agree, absolutely, that one should never count or discount a horse because of his breed, I believe that those stereotypes exist for a reason and can be used to our advantage.

(2)

Is it our resistance to racism and (human) prejudice, stereotyping and profiling that makes us feel defensive about applying negative qualities to a breed? I too have actually taken (mild) offense to a strangers comment that they "hate" a particular breed. I too feel the need to defend such statements with examples of those horses who have proved the exception. Even if it is my own biases! Why, just recently I considered leasing an Appaloosa! and even once made an offer to purchase one despite my (generally) ill-favored opinion of the breed. I am always willing to consider and find merit in the individual but that certainly doesn't mean that I'd go seeking an Appaloosa if were in the market to purchase!

For example, I own a lazy Australian Cattle Dog (Blue Heeler). I've known other lazy Blue Heelers. But when my Mom, a mildly active and over worked mother and wife, went looking for a dog I didnt recommend she look for a Blue Heeler, despite my experience with those dogs that defied the the reputation of their breed.

(3)

Breeds- by definition- are collective stereotypes...our human effort to selectively reproduce animals that are homozygous (alike) in qualities.

Have you ever had an experience with a horse, dog or any kind of animal that turned you off of a breed or species- even though it was the faults of the individual, not a common fault of their breed?

For me it is Poodles. I know they are smart, athletic and amazing dogs but when I was a child my Grandmother's friend had a poodle that used to harrass and bite me (until one I day I bit it back!) and my Aunt had one that would pee while standing on it's front legs (I found this disturbing for some reason). To this day I cant seem to get past my poodle prejudice ... then there was that thing I saw that time with the (aptly named) "Dirty" bunny and the cat... cant shake that one either... but I'll leave that story for another day!

Any animal prejudices of your own?

***
Be sure to vote on my bizarre (but not creep, promise!) poll question!
***

(4)

Today's pictures are inspired by Pioneer Woman's "sunset" photo contest! Which is your favorite (1,2, 3 or 4)?

Breed Profiling

A family I know who has been boarding "outside" horses at their farm for a few years now has recently decided that they no longer wish to take on Thoroughbreds. It is not (at least entirely) for lack of respect or affection for the breed but instead due to a trend they noticed in the added expense, attention, and headache that their past Thoroughbreds clients have generated.

Some people, being equal opportunity enthusiast would take offense to applying breed profiling when selecting potential boarding clients but as someone who has boarded "out" (at large barns with a variety of breed types and large turnover numbers) for the better part of my adult life I actually have to support her decision as I too have noticed trends in different breed types.

For instance, most smaller quarter horses, ponies, and even draft and draft crosses require half (or even a quarter) of the calories needed to sustain the average larger thoroughbred (of course every horse is an individual and I am speaking very generally here...and yes, that is my attempt to be diplomatic). The quiet blooded breeds tend to be more content to hang out in the field, causing less trouble- generally not pacing fence lines, weaving, cribbing, and stirring their stalls into a manure mash. Some breeds, you must admit, are hardier than others- being less fussy about feed, less prone to digestive issues, injury, accidents and sensitivity to the elements, (bugs bites, weather etc.) ....of course, the exception proves the rule (diplomacy).

If I were trying to make an (ever allusive) buck in the boarding industry I think I too would use breed profiling as a starting point....because really how is that any different than breed profiling for positive traits. like endurance, speed or cow sense? Why is it that even I, who doesn't hesitate to show a marked bias for a certain breed *cough* Quarter horse *cough* still feel so guilty for admitting to not preferring (or dare I say disliking) a particular breed? For example Appaloosas (excluding My Boy and Rusty and any other reader's Appy....of course:) are not my favorite horses... It doesn't matter that I come by that honestly- having caught nothing but shit and abuse from every single solitary appy I've ever thrown a leg over) I still feel it is disrespectful...or somehow wrong to admit a... prejudice against some breeds?

Do you have a breed prejudice?

Sleep Talkin' Man

For those not easily offended by bad language or sexually suggestive comments there is a pretty entertaining blog that has recently "gone viral" that I think is pretty damn funny...

A wife blogging about her sleep talkin' husband. Check it out.

Tuesday on the Bayou

A picture I took last week of the bayou (we call it estuary) in my hometown.... this reminds me of one of my favorite songs, written by George Jones and Meryl Haggard, that I first heard sung by Alan Jackson... the first lines read...

"Wish I were down
On some blue bayou...
bamboo cane stuck in the sand
but the road I'm on
dont seem to go there
so I'll just dream and keep on being
the way I am"

A most-unladylike discussion!

****Warning: THE FOLLOWING POST DEALS WITH MATURE SUBJECT MATTER- lacking for any social etiquette and highly suggestive in sexual content and inappropriate for many readers- I highly suggest that my mother, specifically, not read it :) .... and anyone not willing to see the humor in this most unladylike discussion.... ******


A friend and I were having a conversation the other day in Chapters. Let me tell you- it was most certainly NOT a conversation one would usually partake in at a book store. Or any public place for that matter. The two of us were wandering around the store, pulling out some of our favorite books and discussing the merits of each... some of which were great literary masterpieces... and some of which were quite undeniably smut.... when one book in particular inspired a most-un-ladylike topic.....

It all started with a discussion about "the talk"...

You know "the talk"... that incredibly awkward and usually-by-that-time-irrelevant sex talk you have with your parents?

Yah... that one.

So there we were in the magazine section- my English-riding friend looking through Horse and Hound and I perusing Western Horseman- the both of us totally engrossed in the discussion of how we gained the majority of our pre-personal-experience Intel from late night slumber parties...

Ahhh! Slumber Parties! Remember them?

The dictionary should read:

Slumber Party: wherein a group of virginal, pure-of-mind, prepubescent girls gather around the prerequisite, know-all hussy (there is always one) to gather sorridly graphic, oh-so-steamy instruction on matters pertaining to the opposite sex... ie- how to french kiss a boy as well as what unexpected consequences might arise from such action....

It was during this discussion that the topic of how and when we discovered the logistics of giving blow jobs came about...

Excuse me? Yes, I did just say Blow Jobs. WOW!!! cant believe I just typed that!!!!

So... this is about where those of you who didn't take my warning might want to reconsider!

Because this is a topic that I simply must discuss... you'll find out why later...

So, I mentioned to my friend that at a teen I found the term "blow job" rather confusing- given some misinformation I had received that led me to read the term as...well....a literal translation of the act... Come on! You have to admit that the term is an oxymoron of sorts...highly confusing to such an innocent mind as mine was at the time.

Anyways... this prompted a further discussion on the topic....

I just have to pause here to note that there were actually one or two...or three men in our general vicinity during our conversation... men who seemed to gather suspiciously close as it progressed... men who eventually gave up even the pretext of flipping the pages of the magazines in their hands and took to staring blankly with one ear keenly trained in our direction. But I digress.

Eventually the topic turned to even classier subject matters....such as our general assumptions of the popularity of such acts amongst our fellow female friends (having agreed that most of the males we know are unanimous in their opinion of such) and more specifically how women feel about giving them... the poll read as follows....

Do most women:

a) hate it, wont do it
b) dont like it but will do it
c) dont mind
d) like it
e) love it

A dare, of sorts, was wagered. A poll was suggested. Yes, I said poll. Her suggestion... that I place a poll with the above options on my BLOG!!!

I believe my reply was a resounding, "Ah...yah.... I THINK NOT!!!"

A debate ensued. I defended my honor, my class, my dignity... my lady-ish-ness *blank stare* and in the end we settled on some terms...

The result of which is today's post.

A bet is a bet. This is me paying up....Discussing fellatio on my blog.

*hangs head in shame*

Here is my question to you.

What is your best guess at the result of the poll? (see above for options a,b,c,d,e,)

Who is willing to step up and admit they are just as sordidly curious as we were!?!?

The Mourning of Hair

The Mourning of Hair

That title sounds so... dramatic... like The Silence of the Lambs... only more like "The Morning of the Hare"... or Breaking Dawn of the Rabbit...

Sorry.

But seriously, I'm mourning my hair today. Why? Because for the past oh, say, seven years my hair has looked relatively the same. Untouched by dye and only cut to a modest variation, my hair has been long, straight, deep, dark and mahogany in color.

But today that changed. Peroxide was involved... along with hours in a salon chair... the sharp reek of chemical... the crinkle of tin foil....

The result?

Streaks.

Sounds anti-climatic right? But wait!

They are blond streaks!

BRIGHT blond streaks!

Bright, bright blond streaks!

LOTS of Bright blond streaks!

So much Bright Blond Streaks that I'm having trouble deciding if I still qualify as a brunette.

So whats the big deal? It's just hair right?

Well, yes and no. My hair is one of the few parts of my appearance I've never felt insecure about. My hair never got fat. It never grew zits or made an embarrassing smell in public. It never had a "There's Something About Mary" moment nor did it ever all fall out at once... even after a particularly hideous perm.

I liked my hair as it was. It was dark and dramatic... it set off my eyes... I liked saying, when asked, "Yes, that is my natural color... I haven't dyed my hair in years." My hair was familiar... it was comfortable. The thought of changing it was a little disconcerting... because once done, there was no going back (you cant immediately go back to your natural hair after dying it). The thought was a little scary. Scary? Really? Yes! I find change a little... scary, most of the time.

Which is why I dyed my hair today. One small step for man, one giant leap for Chelsi-kind!

Because I need change. I want change. But I'm more than a little scared of it!

Which is why I figured... If I cant change something as simple as my hair, how in God's green earth was I going to change anything else in my life?

Change is good.

So they tell me.

But just between you and me...

I miss my old hair. I'm scared of the coming change. I want to snuggle up in my deep bed, pull my old comforter over my head, snuggle up to Hawkydogs warm speckled hide and stay that way- safe, warm, familiar... comfortable... forever.

Thank goodness life doesn't work that way. But sometimes, just for a single moment.... dont you wish it did?

As you can see, depending on the light it can look either really light or really dark with light steaks. I think in reality it is somewhere in between but I'm having trouble getting used to it when it keeps looking so different all the time. Btw, the below photo was taken just after I got home and looked in that familiar mirror for the first time. I freaked out and called my sister.... I wasn't "posing" for this shot (I was just trying to get a shot of the streaks to send to her) and accidentally caught this expression... which I think should be titled...

"Holy Shit"

Dexter

(Photo of darlin' Buddy boy, my sister's dog.)

Does anyone watch the show Dexter? My sister has been bugging me to watch it for some time now... pushing it actually... like some kind of illegal substance... she said it was addictive but oh-so-good... I just had to try it...

Then, last week, she mailed me Season 1...

And I watched it...

All of it...

In a matter of days.

Now, I'm the dealer... pushing it on my friends, trying to convert them to my cause.

What is Dexter?

A gruesome, bloody, deep, dark and funny television show about a serial killer named Dexter. Sounds fabulous eh? Only it is. Because Dexter, despite lacking virtually all forms of human emotion and morals, lives by "the code"... a vigilanty code that keeps him from becoming truly evil. Oh.. and he also works as a blood spatter expert for the Miami Police Department. It's entertaining... really... trust me... why dont you try it... come on...try it...

Go on... I know you'll like it!

Ok... so some of you wont. Maybe even not many of you. But for those who "get it" Dexter is truly addictive. Here is the intro...

Head Case

(Pictures from my hike with my sister yesterday)

I'm a freakin' head case. A crazy horse person! This blog is aptly named "horse crazed mind"... though maybe it should read "crazed horse mind"... only that doesn't sound nearly as good:)

So... that impossible to find leasing situation? Not so impossible after all. In fact, two days ago I was offered the chance to ride a beautiful, sweet, great minded, well trained (English jumper) mare at a really nice (indoor) facility, not 20 minutes from home by a lady I know takes amazing care of her horses and is a warm, friendly and (bless her heart) even sane!

Not a single fly in the ointment except one...

Leasing is not the right option for me.

I heard you sigh! I know, I know! Hear me out...

It was not until that such an ideal situation came along that I realized I had inadvertently created the same situation for myself as I had so carefully crafted for my mare Abby.

You see, in 2008 Abby and I both worked damn hard in a training program. We both came a long way in learning the fine art of reining. A lot of money... (that is an understatement) was spent getting her and I to the point where our old bad habits were broken down and replaced with new, supple, and better ways of riding.

In New Years of 09 I sent Abby out on a two year breeding lease. I did so because I could no longer afford to keep her (or I) in training and I felt it was better to have her sit unused (from a riding perspective) than to bring her home and have her used casually where she could potentially loose her training and redevelop those old bad habits. I was so focused on my horse that I never stopped to recognize that the same could be said of me... not until a year later (and a year away from horses) - when I was offered the chance to ride a well trained English horse- did I think of all the time, effort and money I put into MY OWN training and how perhaps the year away from riding was a saving grace... allowing me, like Abby, to preserve the foundation I put on my self and avoid the casually and subconscious relearning of bad habits that can develop through casual riding.

I am going to go back to reining lessons. I will need a tune up, to be sure... but I hope that once I regain my strength and co-ordination, once the proverbial dust has been blown off my mind, I will find that most of what I learned in 08 will be there, in tact and ready to be built upon.

Now, at this time I cant go back to my trainer, Kari, no matter how much I love her. It takes an hour and half one way to get to her barn and the gas, plus cost of lesson would come out to about $75 a lesson. WAY out of my budget. I'm going to look local and see if I cant book a lesson for this week! I have some reservations about the style, ethics, and training methods of a new instructor... but still, I'm really excited to get started again!

Carpe Diem

HAPPY NEW DECADE!!!!

This New Years is really the first time in my life that I am celebrating the end of and coming of a decade. In the year 2000 I was seventeen and with all the Y2k hype and the rest of the shenanigans going on in my life at the time I really didn't have any perspective on what a decade could mean. Now, looking back I'm not at all satisfied with the use I made of those ten years... of all the things I didn't do, like go to school, travel to Europe, adopt and maintain a healthy diet and exercise program, develop my art, writing and photography and show my horse.... among other things...

But there is no use looking back, right? And so I look forward... but that too causes some an anxiety as I realize that the next time I celebrate such a milestone I'll be thirty-seven...

....as in, three years from forty....

....that most of my beloved animals will no longer be with me or on their last legs...

...that my better half, DB, will be pushing towards sixty...

...that the familiar world of this past decade- my home, lifestyle, etc. will have virtually disappeared...

...and that ten years might seem like a long time but in reality it isn't much time at all....

...looking back to that New Years Eve 2000- at myself as I was then- and all that has come to pass and all of that which didn't... that what I most hope to accomplish in the next decade, if I am so blessed to ring in 2020, is to have made the best of the time that I was given... to go to bed each night with the firm knowledge and satisfaction that I used that day to it's fullest.

My life lesson of the past decade is just that... time is of the essence... a decade can come and go before you blink and eye...

My mantra for today, tomorrow, and for all the days to come will be...

Seize the day!

Carpe Diem

And yes, I did watch Dead Poets Society not that long ago!

What is your mantra for 2010 or for the next decade?