Sunday, October 31, 2010
"This is a car advertisement from Great Britain.
When they finished filming the ad, the film editor noticed something moving
along the side of the car, like a ghostly white mist.
They found out that a person had been killed a year earlier in that exact same spot.
The ad was never put on TV because of the unexplained ghostly phenomenon.
Watch the front end of the car as it clears the trees in the middle of the screen
and you'll see the white mist crossing in front of the car then following it along
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Hard to believe that she was white yesterday! Honest! Look, she had only gotten half the job down when I arrived....the right side was still clean...
I'm convinced that she knows I prefer bays and is trying to make amends.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Anyways, here is a link to the youtube videos for anyone who'd like to check it out!
Had to ad this unrelated video! It is AMAZING footage!!!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Anyways... thought I'd share this video of my Princess! This was my first attempt (ever) at making a video and I'm pretty happy with the result. No music was added because the sounds she makes are part of the "story". Oh! And the last line (for those not up to snuff on pop culture) is... well, a fairly well known pop culture reference.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
What percentage of people in the world today own hay? People who can walk into a barn and point to a stack of bales and say, "I own that." There is something about owning hay that validates my deep seeded yearnings to be an honest-to-god country girl, no matter how lacking that might be in reason (dont burst my bubble please). There is something about looking at a nice stack and knowing that you'll be able to keep your horse warm and full for months to come that is just so.... so.... satisfying.
I also love owning hay because I love the idea that I can feed my horse as much of it as I want and whenever I want to boot! I used to board my horse (full care) and always detested having to constantly ask for my horse to get more hay (and never felt that they were getting as much as they needed), or not being able to just throw my horse a flake, just because. Even as a teen when I owned my own hay, I was constantly trying to make it stretch and could never just liberally toss out an extra flake here and there....I was always so worried about the expense and inconvenience of running out. As a result of all of that, and the simple fact that I get all warm and fuzzy watching my loved ones eat food that I've cooked or provided, most days when I go the barn I give my Prinsa a little hay or grain. The sound of a horse contently munching or manically hoovering in her case, can provide a small but profound sense of joy and contentment.
Right now I own a little stack of nice clean hay and have enough bales put up with Prinsa's name on it to last the rest of the winter. Like a squirrel who's packed away plenty enough nuts, I am satisfied.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
If you've read this blog for any length of time you'll have learned by now that I make no bones about certain rather embarrassing issues. I've not shied away from those scandalous topics like vampire porn, smut novels, BJs (oh yes I did!), shaving, bras and physic bladders. So I'm just going to throw out another little doozy for you....
I like to pee in the bush.
Wow! It feels kinda liberating to just say it out loud like that.
The men in my family have a long history of perfectly respectable urination in open air venues.... a car door and a convenient bush provided, in my man folk's opinion, acceptable urinals of natures making. While we girls and women attempted to be remain modest and ladylike by waiting for proper facilities, we did spend sufficient time in the backwoods, be it camping or driving logging roads, that peeing in the bush was a simple fact of life. As cumbersome as the act may be and no matter how precarious a situation I may have found myself a time or two somewhere along the way I developed a certain fondness for the practise... I began to find it oddly liberating... the feel of cool air on the nether regions... the adventure of finding that secret place.... the hit of adrenaline when you first pull the drawers... the animalistic quality of marking the land, the feral and holistic natu-....I've gone to far havent I?
Why should I feel shame for something so natural? I mean... do you think maybe it is because even way back in history we never accepted little female cherubs squatting over fountains like their pudgy little boy counterparts? Ah-ha! You see, it's a little awkward for me to say that right? Right! But really, if you think about it, what kind of double standard is that? Is it not yet another example of male propagating the notion that females should be ashamed of natural bodily functions like flatulents and burping and well, other things... while they get to unabashedly revel in the glorify their primitive urges? *gasps for air*
Okay, I dont want to give you the wrong impression or anything....I dont make a habit of peeing in the woods! Actually, years have passed where I havent had the opportunity but this past month HS and I have been spending a lot of out in the woods and as a result I've become reacquainted with the satisfying and oddly enjoyable experience... and as I feel it's my job to keep it real here at AOAHCM, I thought I might share this odd little tidbit in hopes of liberating other like minded women of their shame and self denial by saying out loud (and proud) that I, Chelsi Depp-Pitt like to pee in the bush.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
I pulled my pony's.... *huge sigh* Please pause here a moment.... okay... yes, her name is still Princess, no matter how much it bugs me.... While I've come to accept her name I am still having trouble saying it... I avoid using it all together or choke on it every time I am forced to.
So I've started looking for the appropraite abbreviation, with not much luck.... let's see there is....
P. which sounds like pee.... as in urine... which could make sense as she constantly has yellow stains all over her body....but is hardly flattering.
Incess sounds like incest. Not cool.
Cessa is a name I related to Cndcowgirl's horse... and I dont know if it is "her"...
Prin sounds masculine and a little harsh and she is anything but.
Rince is a cycle on the washing machine...
Ince is, well... not a word.
Prinny and Prissy are the closest I've come to an actually name for her and I dont like either... but then both are better than Princess.
Which leaves me with Ess. Hmm.... Essy... Essa... *thinks hard*... maybe that isnt half bad.
Now... back on topic...I'm thinking of Simple Boots (or feel free to suggest another brand). The simple (pardon the pun) and only reason is because that she has mildly sensitive, not super hard and very white feet that I need to use to ride on VERY sharp, shard gravel. This gravel chews up even my trail runner shoes (with a more durable sole than normal runners) in a matter of months. Because of it's depth (a few inches and loose) I dont feel like normal iron "shoes" will offer any protection and riding barefoot is not an option.
So... the brand I personally have used (I rode a friends horse in a pair) is the Cavello Simple Boot. They seemed to work really well on that ride and that was up and down hills and in muck! I do realize that when using boots it is important to use the "sock" that comes down over the boot to prevent pebbles from getting in and to make sure that the boot is properly fitted. Also to check for chaffing. I just wonder if anyone else has had any issues with them... or alternatively if anyone can vouch for them?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Karen Blixen, (the lady who's autobiographical novel inspired the movie) is a danish baroness who immigrates to Africa after entering in to an arranged marriage of convenience. There, while her husband "goes safari" she is left alone to carve a hold out of the wilderness and build a coffee farm from the ground up. This movie is of a feminist nature, it is one woman's struggle to have a say in life, to gain control and hold it all together- the farm, her marriage, her employees in a wilderness which constantly threatens to reclaim "her" land. All of that fight comes to a simple and poetic end when Karen and her men, having fought to hold back a flooding river, finally let go and allow it to return to it's original course- through her crops and on to Mombasa. As she stands and watches the water run she says, in a dignified and deeply reverent tone (though thick with a questionable danish accent), "Let it go. This water lives in Mombasa anyways."
I am telling you this because that simple sentence is one I aught to have made in to my own little bracelet... instead of WWJD (what would Jesus do) I need to have LIG.TWLIMA. Let it go.... I've said before that I am a fretter. I pick my life to pieces and then continue picking away at it's tattered remnants. Letting go and letting what comes, come, is a philosophy I am trying so hard to adopt as my own. As bizarre as it may sound to some, my struggle to find just the right name for my new mare, the constant analyzing, lamenting, changing, the drama of it all is an old habit I fell in to easily and without much thought.
This evening I spoke with the breeders of my new mare. They are nice people, though not very talkative, however, the wife really opened up when I asked what my mare was like as a foal. She told me a little of the dam, siblings and how much they liked my filly when she hit the ground. They said that she was such a dainty thing, with fancy movement and a "look at me, I'm so pretty" attitude... they didnt take long to think up a name. With her regal presence there was no name for her but Princess- she certainly seemed to think she was one.
Princess is the name she came to me with... it is her name. I cant say how many times in the past few weeks that I've thought, "What a little princess" and I believe I even referred to her as being a princess on this blog. Oddly enough her last owner said that she never liked the name and planned on changing it but just could never think of anything that fit her better. Well, when I got off the phone with the breeders I thought of that line, "This water lives in Mombasa anyways" and I said in my head, complete with Merle's wannabe-danish accent, "this horse is named Princess anyways".
I accept it. Who am I to change it. Princess is her name....
I cant believe I own a horse named Princess.
C'est La Vie.
Monday, October 11, 2010
My pony has mud fever. This is a bit of a worry because she came to me with it (I mistakenly assumed they were just scabbed over cuts like the other fifty scabbed over cuts she came with but when they didnt go away like the others did I discovered that they were actually mud fever.) There is no swelling but those crusties are there. Now, where she came from did not have a lot of mud but it was open pasture... so best as I can figure she probably had these few little patches left over from last spring. She has a dollar coin sized patch on one pastern, a few penny sized patches on another two pasterns and one foot with none at all. Something in my gut is telling me that there is something going on in her system... but I'm not sure what... worms, poor gut flora, a missing nutrient...something... anyways, I am more than open to any suggestions as to how to treat the mud fever topically...
Also, my little princess is constantly pestered by flies....no seriously, flies love my mare like nobodies business! Her pasture mate will not have a single fly on her and where as my girl will have a dozen, especially and specifically on her legs. Now, I am wondering if maybe these two things are connected in some way. Any ideas on why flies love her legs and if there is anything I can feed her to help her out (garlic?)?
Her and her salt block are best friends. Seriously, she has gone through like half of one of those mini ones (that you hang in the stall) and she is constantly at the one out in the pasture. I feel like I am missing something here. I am starting her on a supplement (usually I would already have her on one over the first ten days or so she had the runs, was on new hay, new grain, new pasture and had just been wormed so I thought I would hold off until she had settled in before introducing anything more...and this past week I just havent gotten to it.)
So... Mud Fever. Flies. Salt addiction. Hmmm....
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Just wanted to wish all my fellow Canadians a very Happy Thanksgiving!
Usually I'd write some sappy crap about how I grateful I am for all the wonderful people in my life..... *grin* (Okay, I am very thankful for that!) but what I am really thankful for this Thanksgiving is .....
Until I return, here is a photo from Maui...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
No, I'm not kidding. They had to call her something.
But finally I have a name.
It isnt as original or unique as I wanted. And while I like it I dont love it..... but it fits. When I say this name it just rolls of my tongue and as HS said, it feels like that has always been her name. It has been her name for a whole 7 hours now... which is, dare I say, a new record.
This is Luna.
(now, it seems to me that someone out there in bloggerland also has an horse or animal named Luna so I really hope that someone doesnt mind that I call her so...)
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I'm late to the party but this show is inexplicably addictive. I'll be back in a week or so... singing show tunes and wearing a cheerleaders uniform... or not... that would so not be pretty.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The day after I rode my new mare ____ (not Pixie, sorry, it just didnt stick) home I went on a little horse shopping trip with a good friend, B, who was (yah! she found her new horse just today!) looking for a new barrel horse. Since returning home I've been consumed with the new pony and so didnt write about my experiences while on that trip and how they effected my confidence in riding and training _____. You see, on that trip that I ended up riding two different horses that were not the ones being tried by B. On the Friday B had tried out a really nice little (14.3HH) mare owned by a nice lady (whom we'll call L.). After she'd finished doing the arena gig L asked if B would like to try her out on the trail. I said I didnt mind waiting and to go ahead but L suggested that she actually had an extra horse, one (she assured me) that she used for lessons and was very quiet- did I want to come along? Having been off for so long (the day before had been my first real ride in nearly six months) and having used up most of my 'cowgirl up" bravado the following day (when I rode a green horse I didnt know two hours down a trail- alone) I agreed to go but with a little trepidation. As we walked back to the barn to get the other horses L asked, "You dont have an issue with riding a really tall horse do you, this mare is over 16HH." To which I gamely replied, "No, just so long as I dont have to mount from the ground (and make an ass of myself in the process)." Within no time I was happy to have made this stipulation as L brought in the mare. Well, if that behemoth bay was any LESS than 16.3HH I would have ate my hat. Having saddled and assessed the stirrup to be hanging approximately at the height of my bosom I walked out of the barn with high hopes of finding a really tall mounting block somewhere nearby. As I walked around the barn, towing my elephant, I was surprised when suddenly my "super quiet lesson horse" made a big show of spooking at the shuffling colts inside a parked horse trailer. Hmm... not a good sign. I continued on anyways to where an actual step-up mounting block (bless it's heart) stood beside the round pen. My would-be-mount, with her piggy eye and long thoroughbred body, wasnt keen on standing quietly but nonetheless, with My Big Girl Panties firmly in place, I hopped on. As we headed out of the yard I looked to B and shot her a "what the f- have you gotten me into" look but when she mouthed "are you okay" I smiled and made some joke about being the shortest girl on the tallest horse. The first part of the ride was alright, I relaxed a little as we chitchatted and started to get a feel for my mount. She wasnt all bad, I thought charitably as she stumbled over some non-existent rock for the eighth and not-nearly-last time. The wide trail (or narrow road) wound it's way through a tightly knit pine grove and there was little "hazards" to worry about. L pointed out that ahead we might see a couple of loose horses who were once owned but had escaped years ago to become wild horses that had lived in this patch of bush having survived through rough winters and sparse vegetation with a resiliency that seemed to directly mock all the effort that had once gone in to their keep. Sure enough we did catch a glimpse of them just before we turned from the main trail to make a loop back towards the barn on a narrow trail with plenty of (now at least apparent) rocks for my mount to trip over. Both L and B's mounts seemed to pick their way effortlessly while mine slipped down hills, stumbled over rocks and jumped over even the little sticks of timber laid over the trail, all the while becoming more and more worked up at the prospect of heading for home. I constantly worked to check her back to walk and to talk her calm. L seemed not to notice any difficulty at all while B kept checking back every minute or so as if to check if I was still there. As I caught sight of the barn I sighed a breath of relief but it was too soon. There, across the fenced pasture (which this mare had seen no doubt a dozen times or more) she spied a herd of horses walking towards us through the shadows of a thicket of trees. Well, this was too much. While B and L's mare's didnt so much as turn a hair my mare snorted and shied and her whole body locked up into a bundle of muscle ready to sprint home. The end result was that we didnt sprint home and I didnt get off and walk her as I once would have. I rode her home at a walk.
I rode her home at a walk because I kept it together and continued to do what I had been going through the entire ride- I rode her using ability and confidence. I rode her with confidence in my ability to get the job done.
I remained calm by pulling out the tools I thought I had forgotten. When she got upset I'd sit low and quiet, putting my weight in to the saddle and taking low, slow deep breaths. I talked to her in a steady, confident voice and kept my hands and legs light and slow. I did what I was suppose to do and what I know how to do (but what I sometimes have trouble doing) and that is that I stepped up and actually became the horse(wo)man that I am. I have experience, training, knowledge and ability. I am not a great horseman but I am a horseman. I have a ton to learn but I can ride. Maybe a little or maybe a lot depending on who's doing the judging.... but I can ride. That is something that I really haven't felt in a loooong time. I lost that when I lost my confidence in handling horses but never regained it when I regained some of my confidence in handling some horses...I thought that I would get my confidence back by getting help and I did. I thought I would get my confidence back by learning more about horse training and I did. I thought that I would get my confidence back by spending time on horses that were worthy of my confidence and trust and I did. But what I know would make such a profound difference in my confidence riding and handling horses was believing in my own ability. For some reason I used to think that being confident in your experience and knowledge was to discount the amount of knowledge and experience you had left to gain....