Speaking of an era of Romance....

Ironically, after my post yesterday, this evening one of my favorite movies will be on TV..... a movie that captures the romance of a lost era...

......that speaks to the heart and soul of every and any hopeless romantic and that could shatter to pieces the of hardest emotional armors!!

My friends...The Notebook

I LOVE this movie....

The fashion....

The beautiful scenery.....

the romance,

The passion....

...and oh....oooohh! The drama.


I think this is the kind of movie that you either love or hate. Which was it for you?

Gotta go...the movie is starting:)

Pictures of Poppie

(Poppie is the first person on the left)

On Wednesday I did a post on my Poppy and his experiences during WWII. You asked for me to post the pictures that with the stories and today I am happy to be able to oblige you. Here is a quote from my post, followed by a picture.

"My grandfather served in WWII as a airplane mechanic in the Royal Canadian Air Force. We have pictures of his time during the services, of the great planes that he worked on and the time he spent overseas. One of my favorites was a picture of him, standing tall and handsome in a pair of overalls in front of a downed bomber in a snowy field. We liked to tease that it was "the plane Poppie fixed". It was said in jest of course, he could fix just about anything, though it might be held together with some blasting wire and a few blobs of sauter. A great man for sautering, my Pop's was!"

"The plane that Poppie fixed!" (Poppie is facing the camera on the right)

"I also loved an old black and white snapshot that my Poppie took while kneeling on the shoulders of his friend and looking out over a crowd in a square in England. A sea of people stood, shoulder to shoulder, gathered to listen to Churchill speak in person and address the end of the war. Poppie said that, though there were literally thousands of people, you could hear a pin drop."

Below are some of my favorite old pictures of my grandparents. To me, they capture the romance and glamor of a lost era.

Poppie is on the far left and my grandmother is in the middle.

Poppie on far left, Granny next to him in the middle beside my Great Aunt and Great Uncle (Poppie's brother)

My Granny catching a train in Vancouver to visit my Poppie while he was stationed in Ottawa, Canada around 1944.

Granny and Poppie

My great-grandfather went to the prairies of Saskatchewan to start up as a farmer twice after immigrating from Canada from Scotland. Both times the crops failed and he was forced to move back to the city (Vancouver). He still dreamed of becoming a farmer (I assume that is where I get it from) and tried to convince my great grandmother to move back with him one last time. She told him that he was welcome to go, but that she was staying put! He chose his wife over farming but he did put their acre lot in the middle of the city to use grown vegetables and even raised chickens for eggs that my Poppie sold around the neighborhood, Above is a picture of Poppie's brother with his father in the prairies in 1914. Below is a picture of the great teams of draft horses they used at harvest.

Meesta! Meesta! You wanna buy my Seesta!

"Mister! Mister! You want to buy my sister!!" (for those of you who could not translate the title.)

Did I mention that I have a sister? No! Well, let me tell you. I was SO excited this evening when I read the first ever comment my sister posted on my blog! She is not the computer junkie that I am, nor does she have even a hint of equine addiction, so I didn't expect that she would keep up on my blog as she has.

Did I mention that my sister is beautiful?! No! Well, let me tell you. She is gorgeous. She has the height that I have always longed for (and the flat tummy too!). She is as dark and exotic looking as I am pink and plump. She has flawless olive skin, a full bow shaped mouth, huge almond eyes of the funkiest amber color and a great smile. Her beauty glows.

Did I mention that she is my big sister? No! Well....Being my big sis', she was always the boss and being the "lil' sis", I was always a real brat. Most of the time I caused her nothing but grief. She didn't know then how much I looked up to her, or how I envied all the "big girl" things she got to do first, like make-up, ear piecing or getting a drivers licence. She was always the responsible one, the babysitter and the one that had my back.

Did I mention that she is goofy, sweet and funny? No! Well she is! I love the way she laughs, the way her face turns red and her eyes stream tears. I love that she cries easily, (even at commercials) and that she can laugh at herself for doing so. She is a goof....She trips, she falls, she cuts herself on things people aught not cut themselves on. She can look at you (especially after a few glasses of wine) and give you this blank eyed, goofy smile that I challenge anyone not to laugh at.

Did I mention that I love her? No! Well, let me tell you. My sister and I did not always get along growing up. "Not always" basically means rarely. We spent a tremendous amount of time together, and subsequently spent a tremendous amount of time fighting. But if there was one thing I always knew, it was that my sister loved me. I knew, because she told me every day. I wish she knew how much I always loved her in return.

One undeniable aspect of my childhood is that my sister was always there, a strong, consistent and loving presence. I realize now how exceptionally important and valuable her strength and guidance was to me as a child.

I have always loved my sister, with all my heart, but am so thankful that as woman, we have found each other as friends.

Did I tell you that my sister was beautiful? Yes! Well, let me tell you again....She is! Inside and out.

Remembering....

While technically it was Remembrance Day yesterday, I will post this today without reservation as I remember every day the man who was the veteran of my family. I woke up yesterday to the sound of bag pipes as I live close to our local Canadian Legion (an organization that supports veterans) and could hear their ceremonies from my home. It immediately made me think of a grandfather, my "Poppie", a man I love deeply and miss every day. He was a proud Scott that once told me that "if you don't get goose bumps from the sound of bag pipes, you aren't Scottish!" The last time I heard a piper play was at his funeral. The sound of them yesterday morning sent the goosebumps up my arms and brought the tears to my eyes in a flash. But I couldn't help but smile and remember those words. I am a Scott after all!

My grandfather served in WWII as a airplane mechanic in the Royal Canadian Air Force. We have pictures of his time during the services, of the great planes that he worked on and the time he spent overseas. One of my favorites was a picture of him, standing tall and handsome in a pair of overalls in front of a downed bomber in a snowy field. We liked to tease that it was "the plane Poppie fixed". It was said in jest of course, he could fix just about anything, though it might be held together with some blasting wire and a few blobs of sauter. A great man for sautering, my Pop's was!

I also loved an old black and white snapshot that my Poppie took while kneeling on the shoulders of his friend and looking out over a crowd in a square in England. A sea of people stood, shoulder to shoulder, gathered to listen to Churchill speak in person and address the end of the war. Poppie said that, though there were literally thousands of people, you could hear a pin drop.

Poppy was also a story teller, and a great one at that. He told me that all the mechanics were required to go up for a test flight after doing any major work on a plane and that you were paid an extra nickle (or something of the sort) for every time you went up. The Force claimed it was so that the mechanics could listen to the engine in flight but in truth it was that they felt the mechanics were better inclined to do a good job if their own life, not just that of the airmen, were being wagered on it! Well, regardless of the confidence (or pride) my grandfather took in his work, he absolutely hated to fly so he enlisted the help of his good friend, Pete, that loved to go up. The agreement was that Poppy would give Pete the extra nickle if he would go in his place. For a Scotsman known for thrift, this was as great of a testament to his dread of flying as any! But Poppie never begrudged handing over that nickle and Pete, fortunately, never regretting taking it.

Poppy spoke of his time during the service during the war with a humble pride. He served the majority of his time here in Canada but did go overseas as a part of a small group. All of the mechanics in the Force had taken a written test in order to determine a select few that would be trained to work on the great Rolls Royce engines in England and my Poppy was one of them. He would always say he never saw any "real action" over seas but he certainly did his part. I am so very proud of my grandfather for his service. I wear my red little Poppy pin with pride. I am also proud and grateful to each and every one of the men and woman who served and continue to serve, to protect our country and our freedom.

My Computer Chair is Shrinking....

It seems that my computer chair is shrinking....either that or a certain aspect of my anatomy is growing. Which is more likely? With the changing weather and my natural inclination to cocoon at an all time high, sitting in front of the 'puter with a hot chocolate (with marshmallows, thank you!) seems much more appealing than wandering out into the dark and rainy streets to exercise. I have also been baking lately, which, if I had a family might not be such a bad thing but with just DB and I in our cozy little home, the unfortunate truth is that the responsibility of eating said bake goods largely falls into my very capable hands! All of this is compounded by some life circumstance that has me sitting at home much more than usual. I am not riding, not going to the barn, not mucking stalls, not pulling hay, hauling saddles, brushing, catching, washing buckets, dragging hoses, etc.. all of those countless little calorie burning chores that were once a daily part of my existence. Instead I watch the horses click, click, click on by from the comfort of a chocolate brown padded throne. And so my conclusion is that either my computer chair is shrinking....or my ass is growing. *sigh* Today is Monday right? As good of day as any to get back on track? Right! But right now all I can think about is that Divine tub of spinach dip and that delicious loaf of sourdough bread I bought yesterday at the grocery store (we all have weak moments!). It is calling my name...."Cheeeeellllllsssssiiiiiiii!!!!..... I can always buy a bigger chair right?

Ghosting it Forward- Part Three

I have decided to keep going with the story of Sarah and Jess. I am interested to find out where their journey will end as I do not know yet myself! This blog gives me a neat way to write chapters without having to commit to a "book" and I get to read your responses as I go. Any input you have, suggestions, or advice would be much appreciated! If you missed it:



Chapter 1



Chapter 2



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It is late but I am going to post this anyways...I will have to edit the mistakes in the morning!
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Chapter 3:

At best guess, they had no more than half an hour before dusk settled over the forest. The sun was so low in the sky that what little beams penetrated the thick growth seemed to shine from the ground upward, as though the world had been turned upside down. To Sarah, this seemed to fit well with the way she was feeling. She sensed the penetrating glare of Jess behind her but refused to turn and meet her gaze. Their friendship had taken a sudden twist, much like the trail before them. What had been flat and meandering now narrowed and turned downward. The footing became loose and wet and the trail, increasingly steep as it threaded its was through the trees. The horse’s feet slipped a few inches with each step before finding purchase and their hocks bundled beneath them as they gingerly picked their way down the path.

In just a few minutes, Jess and Lilly had fallen behind. Sarah’s sure footed and well seasoned gelding easily maneuvered the rough terrain. Rather than stop and wait, Sarah pressed her gelding onward. Here the trail tapered to a cramped ledge, forcing Sarah to focus on the ground immediately before her. As she rounded the bend, suddenly, the dirt in front of her shifted! She glanced up. The earth was boiling! An upheaval of dirt spewed forth a teaming mass of snakes! They slithered upward and outward to lay across her path. A started gasp escaped her lips as she recoiled in horror. As if after a hard rain, the soil flooded and gave up its bounty, littering the path with pale flesh colored worms, their rubbery bodies crusted in dry soil. Hundreds of them lay underfoot. Strewn amongst their midst, the black skinned snakes withered. The mass of twisting bodies lay inches thick. Sarah’s stare was broken as Jess’s leg brushed against hers in passing. She could hear a gooey splat as Lilly’s hooves crushed the spineless bodies below. “What’s the hold up?” Jess asked, looking over her shoulder and into the awe stricken face of her friend.

“Can’t you see them?” Sarah demanded, staring at Jess in puzzlement and pointing at the slippery, sliding mound at their feet.

“See what?” Jess replied.

“That!” Sarah exclaimed. But when she looked down at the dirt path in front of her, nothing but Cedar roots and yellow needles crosshatched it surface. Not a thing stirred. Sarah’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “But…but…there were…” the words stumbled out of her mouth. Jess simply stared at her. Sarah shook her head and swallowed hard. Something told her to keep her mouth shut, to not let Jess in on what she had just seen. “Nothing. I just thought I saw something.” Sarah said flatly. Jess turned back around to ride ahead. Riding behind her, there was no way for Sarah to see the sly smile on Jess’s face.

They travelled deeper and deeper into a narrow gorge. The air became increasingly damp, allowing the cold to slice through their jackets and bite at their fingers. Sarah slipped her hands into Jacksons black mane. Her skin tingled at the sudden warmth. She could not stop thinking about the vision she had and wondered if the snakes and birds where perhaps less of a threat, than a warning. Was the forest trying to tell them to turn back? As they worked their way downward, the gentle whisper of a river could be heard, its voice rising as they approached. A thick gray fog loomed heavily under the cedar boughs and crept along the edges of the trail. As they descended, it became thicker and thicker until it seemed to swallow the gray mare whole. Sarah could see nothing but the dark locks of her friend’s hair and the crescent shape of her saddle’s cantle. Still they continued downward. The whisper of the river turned into a throaty roar, drowning out all other sound or thought. At last they reached the bottom. Here the ground flattened out but Sarah could scarcely see Jackson’s ears through the mist. The river seemed a mighty thing. They could hear the water tumble as it rushed over its rocky ledges but they could see nothing of it. A few more steps and the fog parted to reveal and open sided bridge leading them off of solid ground and into gray nothingness. Lilly, unwilling to step on to the slippery wooden planks, refused to move forward at Jess’ urging. “Maybe Jackson and you should go first?” Jess suggested.

“How do we know that it can support a horse?” Sara asked, the worry in her voice evident. “We can’t even see if it reaches the other side!

“Well we cant go across any other way and it is too late to turn back so what else do you suggest” Jess said in a cutting voice. Every ounce of Sarah told her not to go across but she could see no other way. She swung her leg over Jackson and slipped to the ground. Jackson turned to look at her as she gathered the reins. His eyes were large, their depths, bottomless in the faint light. She could see her reflection in their sheen and found herself pausing to consider the pinched, swallow faced girl that stared back at her. Sarah hated herself for getting into this mess. Her lack of will had placed not only herself, but also Jackson in danger. Why didn’t she just say no? Sarah felt a cold wet drop touch her hand and was surprised to find her own tears as its source. She wanted nothing more than to press her face against Jacksons shoulder and give in to her despair, to cover her eyes with the long wisps of his mane and shut the world out. To hide her face she bent and picked up Jackson foot, pretending to pick it out with a twig. Her gelding’s hoof trembled with the shake of her hand. A sob nearly escaped her throat. Just then she felt the downy touch of Jackson’s muzzle on her cheek. She looked up into his eyes and was startled to find not her own tear stained face, but there in the blackness, a woman staring back at her. The gold of her hair glowed like a halo about her long face and set her warm eyes alight. Sarah started in astonishment, unable to grasp what she was seeing. This woman was beautiful! And, this woman, was Sarah!

The flesh of youth had melted away and revealed the beauty of the bones beneath. Her eyes shone with a quiet confidence. All of the tentativeness and fear was gone, replaced with certainty. Sarah looked at herself in wonder, admiring the long lines of her neck and the cool blue of her eyes. She felt a warmth settle over her and the quickness of her heart slowed to a steady, rhythmic beat. In a flash the image was gone and Sarah stared back at herself as she stood now, her hair touched with dew and face white. Freed of the anguish she had felt just moments before, Sarah knew that something had just happened, that some change had just become her but did not have time to consider it just now. Jess had dismounted and walked up to stand beside her. “What are you looking at now?” She asked.

Sarah turned and looked her friend in the eye. Jess stared back at her without blinking. Sarah held her friends gaze confidently. “What the hell has gotten into you?” Jess demanded. Sarah couldn’t help but sneer slightly at the tone. Why had she allowed herself to be talked to that way? Why had she allowed this girl rule her thoughts and actions? Sarah chose not to reply. She grabbed Jackson’s reins and walked with certainty towards the bridge.

"Junk" Horses!

I know that title may sound a little harsh. I do not believe that one horse's quality of life is any more or less important than any another, regardless of the monetary value of the horse. Whether you have a $500 Heinz 57 or a $150,000 Grand Prix jumper , the same basic care is required to maintain the basic health of just about every horse..... Clean hay and water, (and an adequate amount of it), worming, shelter, dry ground, vet care, etc.. While it is true that your expenses can vary drastically depending on your discipline or how you use your horse, the survival needs of any horse, no matter how it is used, remains the same. I am infuriated by people that think that just because your horse is cheap or you stop using that old or unsound horse, it somehow means that its needs are diminished as well. The older horse needs MORE care, not less. But I digress....

My point behind this post is "junk" horses. This is a term that sadly I use and thinking of it now, may have actually developed. It has little to do with the quality of the horse and everything to do with my mindset.

Here is my problem with my mindset; I lack confidence in my ability. More than anything else, I hold myself back by not having the conviction to ask my horse to do something with authority because I am afraid that I am doing it "wrong" and I do not want to punish or screw up the horse with my own lack of skill. This problem stems from knowing that I am doing is wrong but being unable to do it right. You see, I have a passion for reining but for a number of reasons was unable to ride, take lessons, or compete. So I did what I could from the sideline to educate myself on all aspects of the sport, from judging, to training, showing, breeding etc.. So I have a very clear idea in my head of how I want things to look and how I want to do things but I lack the skill or experience to execute what is in my head. This leads to a tremendous about of frustration and that frustration inhibits what ability I do have, and then nothing works and I get mad at myself and so the vicious cycle goes. What I hear more than anything in my lessons is "get out of your head!! and just do it!!" All of this is compounded by my mare, Abby. Is it because she is so hard to ride or so volatile that I could screw her up? No! It is because I think she is so amazing and so talented and I know she TRIES so hard to do what I ask that I end up feeling like such a loser when I rider her! lol...it is the truth. I feel like in acting that scene from Wayne's World, wherein I would bow down and chant, "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy!" at her feet. How stupid is that! My trainer insists that I can "screw her up" but I just cant help it. I digress yet again....

On to "junk horses"!! What is a "junk" horse? A horse that I do not feel like bowing down to and saying, "I'm not worthy!" A horse that I can actually feel competent to ride! A horse that is athletic, well conformed, good minded and willing! What is "junk" about that?? Nothing! The only difference is that these horses make me feel like I can actually help them learn! Some horses have so little basic training and foundation on them that as lowly as I may be, I can still actually help them become better horses and I can do nothing to screw them up because they have no training in them to screw up! Lastly, right or wrong, these horse are not "valuable". As much as I would like to live in an alter universe where money doesn't matter, in this world, it does and taking a $2000 and "playing with it" is not nearly as intimidating as taking a $20,000 horse home to just fart around with in the arena and hope that you are doing things right!

This whole post stemmed from a comment I left on BrownEyed Cowgirls blog this morning. You wont find it there because the blogger gods don't like me today and stole my post! Grrrr.... I had suggested, in my very long winded comment yesterday (sorry BECG), that she learn to train reining maneuvers on a horse that she could afford to screw up on. I never meant to imply that she actually WOULD screw it up. I seriously doubt it. But training a horse or trying new techniques on a horse that you don't feel is your next world champion is a hell of a lot easier and different IN YOUR OWN MIND than doing so with a horse that shows a tremendous amount of promise and that you feel responsible for in allowing them to reach their full potential (ie- that delicious little Shooter!))

I also feel it necessary to point out that, as much as I respect what top trainers can get their horses to do, reining is not rocket science. IMHO, the key to reining is understanding HOW a maneuver works and then knowing, inside and out, how it is judged. HOW IT IS JUDGED. It doesn't matter how fast you can spin or how long you can stop, if you don't get how reining is judged, you will not win. Learning the techniques to getting a horse finished is difficult, but again, not rocket science. There are many different techniques to training a turn around. I could suggest a few. But what I cant do, and I am pretty sure that BECG can do, is employ her SKILLS to utilize a training technique.... the SKILLS that every good trainer has, no matter what the discipline! Those skills come from experience and good foundation of equitation...things like body awareness and control of the rider (knowing where her hands, feet, weight etc. is and being able to adjust it), horse body control (being able to feel what your horse is actually doing, where its weight is, etc. and being able to adjust it), knowing when to push, when to stop, consistency, timing, rate, all of those countless variables that you need to have mastered in order to train. What technique you are using to train a specific maneuver means nothing if you don't have the skill to employ it! I am still trying to develop them and BECG is trying to figure out how to put hers to use!

That "junk" term is really not right, is it? What a horrible way to talk about an animal! I hereby promise to not use that term again. What is another term that I could use to refer to a horse that does not make my heart go pitter patter but that is still something I am attracted to and could use to build my confidence in myself?

My Art- a Self Promotion!

Well... Self promotion has never been my strong suit but I am going to go right a head and give it a go anyways! Earlier in the year I thought that I would put aside doing pet portraits and try to focus on Fine Art Prints but with the holidays coming up I figured it might be a good time to pick up a few orders! Maybe to help expand the "I want that Palomino mare fund??!!" lol

So....Here are a few examples of my work. For details please check out

www.freewebs.com/fineartpetportraits .

...and if you like them, please feel free to pass along my address to your friends.

Thanks!

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Please note that these are photographs of the actual piece. The paper color is actually white and some detail is lost from the original.

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T.O.Y.

My animals are honored members of our family. They are not toys. But one of them just happens to be labeled as such. We didn't recognize this until LuLu was almost a year old. This cat has just got to be one of the prettiest, sweetest, and stupidest cats I have ever met. She makes your heart swell with love and will "talk" to you if you talk to her. I say, "Lu's a Booo! What are you doing, a Booo?!" and she says, "Meow!" and looks at you with her big blue eyes. "Whats a Boo doing!? Are you confused?" And she says, "Meow!!??" and then flops on to her belly and rolls around all the while talking to you and purring fiercely...she is a doll...but is by no means a TOY!

Can you see the TOY written in the tabby markings on LuLu's side? Here is a hint....

But Honey, Please!!!!

I know this is the third time I have posted today and I love each and every single comment I received from my fellow bloggers about the US election but lets move on to some more important matters, shall we??! Like the fact that I found a mare today that made my little heart go thump, thump!! After my Goldilocks post I actually spent some time seriously thinking about buying a breed other than a Quarter Horse!! First on my list was a Canadian in a western stock horse style and so I set out to see what was on the market and in what price range. First I found that there are very little on the market and then I found that they are actually bloody expensive! lol It was while looking for my non-quarter horse that I found what will hopefully be my next QH!! Isn't life like that? She is a 2006 palomino, 15.1HH, with a wicked set of papers on her and is drop dead gorgeous to boot! Now, there is just the small inconsequential matter of finding the $$ to buy her....hmmm.....

For those of you who have requested pics of this mare...LOL...NO way Jose!!! This one is staying in my back pocket. I don't think that anyone one of you blogger buddies would steal this mare but others (notice how I am acting like a true addict...all suspicious and paranoid about the "others") might mention it to someone and then someone hears and so it goes down the line. Once I get a deposit on her I will let you in!! Bwahahah!!!! lol

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pictured above is her sire

pictured below is her grand sire on her dam's side (Shining Spark)

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Thank you USA.

At the risk of alienating some of my readers, I feel compelled to venture into the arena of politics. I understand that many of you are Republican. As far as I can tell, few are Democrat. I am Canadian. I don't seek to offend anyone by saying that I had one opinion or the other as I appreciate that each of you supported the party that you felt best represented the solution to your problems or best reflected your morals. What was right for you and your family was not necessarily right for another American or for the International community. As a Canadian, I do not get to vote in your election, but I am greatly effected by your government and therefore had an opinion as to which candidate would benefit my country and I the most.

As a Canadian who has been effected by the state of your economy and by your government,****I have edited this comment after considering Aunt Krissy's comment. I dont think that is the point I wanted to make and it was inflamatory to do so without justifying the comment. I will address what I said in tomorrow's post.***** I applaud the United States Of America for the decision that they made last night. The opinion of Canadians (and the world at large) towards America and the policy's of its government has been exceptionally and increasingly negative up until last night. Perhaps the McCain government would have taken steps to heal the perception of the world towards his party. I also apprecaite that some Americans may feel that our opinion does not matter. If I were an American, I may agree. But in my humble opinion, no strong, proud and respectable country, such as the great USA, should be content with lacking the respect of its neighbors.... As you have been. If you don't believe that, watch any major news cast across the world and note how each and every single one of them is rejoicing on this day. Note how we much we respect the decision you made and how we speak of our hope to renew positive relations with the US.

For those of you who lost the election last night, I offer you my sincere condolences as I am sure you worry for the future of your family. I do not write this to suggest that you were wrong or ill advised in your opinion of what was right or best for you. I do so merely to offer my thanks to those of you who represented and voted in favor of what benefited my family, a vote that I was unable to cast but will most certainly be effected by.

Thank you.

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I would also like to add here that I was moved to tears last night by John McCain's speech. I wish that we had such inspiring men (or women) in politics here in Canada. I don't find it necessary to hate one party to agree with the other. I don't agree with all the policies of either party and am was not a fan of Obama, but did feel that this election would make a statement to the world that the US is heading in a different direction...or maybe more accurately, back to its roots....of prosperity and being an example for and leader in the world at large.

I am the Goldilocks of the Horse World

I am the Goldilocks the of horse shoppers. I want things "Juuuuust right"!!! I didn't realize just how fussy I have become about a horse's conformation until this morning. I am not talking about correct or incorrect here, I am talking about the personal preference for "type" in Quarter horse's, something that I have developed to an acute degree...not to long, not to tall, not to angled in the shoulder or height in the hock, one that is "juuuuuust right". Obviously Quarter horses are a veritable breed with such extremes that range from the massively muscled halter horses to the teeny tiny cutters but within each type lies a variety of types as well (ie- Hollywood Dun Its vs. the Smart Chic Olenas).

This morning a good friend wanted to help me out by sending me some horses she had found for sale. All were nice, correct, and pretty Quarter Horses under 15.2HH and stocky in type but in a glace I could tell that none of them fit what I like. What I was struck by is how incredibly critical I am of Quarter Horses and how difficult I find it to find the beauty in types that do not fit my ideal and yet in other breeds, no matter how dramatic in type, I am able to view the overall picture in its simplicity and find that each horse has its own intrinsic beauty.

Some of my friends *ahem* (you know who you are) are more loyal to one breed (the Quarter Horse) than they do not find other breeds "cute" or even beautiful. For example, much to my friends disgust (in good humor of course) I found this little mare adorable!....

She does look like if she had just one more bite of hay she just might explode! She is a particularly fat example of Fjord, a breed known for being particularly hardy and one that I have long admired. One day I would love to own a Fjord. As a matter of fact, when I am a gazillionnaire and can have all the horses I want..... I'd also like a Frisian....

And an Icelantic pony! Have you ever seen one of those little things do their "flying pace" it is amazing!!....

And some type of Draft....

I also wanted to be the first Canadian to import an Australian Stock Horse but some little be-otch in Alberta beat me to it!

I also wouldn't mind having another Old Stock Arabian like my man ol'Rocky...

Mind if I keep going? Good! Because I have always wanted a Canadian Horse!

A mustang.

A Rocky Mountain horse with their unique and beautiful color!

And last but not least....why a donkey of course!

What breed, no matter how lacking in function, have you always wanted to own? Money no object and you can have as many as you want!

Horse shopping!

For those of you who don't know, I have an addiction. I try to control this addiction by strict rules and conditions I place on myself in order to not have third party individuals, my friends, or family affected by the pull I have towards it. What is it? Horse shopping online. It has been well over six years now that I have felt the compulsion to peruse the various sites, to sit at my computer late at night, with the curtains drawn, hunched over my keyboard, and my eyes fixed intently on the screen as the horses click, click, click on by.

But do not worry. Society need not be effected. I have rules....


These things include:

-I do not contact sellers unless I am actually in the market to buy.

-I leave horses that I have "booked marked" in my favorites folder for two days before contacting the seller to allow myself time to consider if said horse is a genuine prospect.

-I always reply to a seller if they have taken the time to tell me about their horse, even if their "blue roan" is in fact a gray or their gorgeous mare is a post legged, ewe necked, freak of nature.

-I make a note on my list to ensure that I never contact the same seller twice (though it has happened a time or two).

-I do not tell my DB about any horse or even let it be known that I am looking until I have thoroughly researched a horse and am ready to go and look.

-I try to keep up with the house work, cooking, outside world things....all that take up valuable horse shopping time.

-If I am not "in the market" then I make sure I stay apprised "of the market" just in case at any given time I am forced at gun point to buy a horse in a 24 hour period. It could happen....

I keep a tight rein on myself but lately, in this time of economic peril, I am having trouble controlling myself. The deals! Oh, the deals!! *getting short of breath just thinking about it* Oh my! The well bred, well broke, beautiful sound horses going for pennies on the dollar! It is just too much for me! I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, my mind racing through my favorites file, pulling images of the deals! Deals! Deals!! 2003 bay mare, papers loaded with famous cutting sires, sound, broke....$500!! 2004 Red Dun mare, with a good set of papers and 6 months cutting training, pretty, baby doll head, $1000!!! 2001 own daughter of top reining sire, beautiful, finished, money earning mare, $3500!!! My head swims, my pulse races and I my breath comes short! Oh the deals! I am like Tony freakin' Montana with a big bowl of white stuff on his desk. I am so frenzied, I cant see the tree for the forest. There are so many good deals, that I cant sort through them all. Which leads me to my next train of though...

My god! Those poor horses! In the United States there are estimated 9.2 million horses. It seems that about half of those are for sale right now. On one of my favorite sites, dreamhorse.com, there are over 50,000 horses for sale!!! That is on one single sight, all be it a popular one. On equinehits.com, as best as I can tell there are over 65,000 (though many may well be the same horses as on dreamhorse.com) I cant tell you how many are on craigslist. Tens of thousands, I would say that confidently. In the past week 1796 horses have been added for sale to equinehits.com. In a WEEK. 3597 on dreamhorse. It is that time of year. It is also that kind of economy. It has been that kind of hay season. Horse slaughter has been shut down in the US. All of these factors and a thousand more lead to one conclusion. There are going to be a hell of a lot of hungry horses out there this winter. My heart sinks to think of them all. So that when I think of the DEALS!!! Oh the deals! I have to remember what comes with them. So...Fuck the deals. Pardon my french. I am sorry, but seriously, who gives a shit about getting a wicked deal when there are thousands of horses out there who are going to starve this winter. Personally, I'd rather pay fair market value for a horse than see this kind of market, the kind were horses and animals suffer for our mistakes. I am in the "market" but I feel so disheartened with the stories I am hearing that I feel guilty for buying that $500 mare...or for thinking that I could get her for $250 because the owners are just so happy to get her gone to a good home, because at any price, nothing is selling.

I am in the market but I feel like I am taking advantage....I know that if I put out an ad for a well broke, papered AQHA mare with reining/cow bloodlines, under 10 years old, free to a GREAT home, I'd probably get more replies than I could handle. So do I go out and spend $3500 in the name of......good will? I am conflicted.

Body Dysmorphic Distorder

I am certainly not trying to make fun of a very serious condition.....but.....I think that my Hawkydog may have body dysmorphic disorder. DB and I have always had a running argument about what constitutes a healthy weight in our dogs. He likes him fat and has trouble determining when they have gained weight...Now, in all honesty, I REALLY aught not to complain about that, seems how it just may apply to how he views my weight fluctuations! But just because I am fat, does not mean that I tolerate my animals being fat....which is a whole different psychological issue....one that has me feeling just a trifle pathetic at the moment....hmmm.... The dog! The dog is fat! The problem is that while I may buy the food, DB is the one that actually feeds the dog. About a year ago I put Hawk on a really low cal diet after he weighed in at a hardy 72 pounds. The perfect weight for Hawkydog would be just over 65. He did fairly well on this diet until a few months ago when he started to really back on the pounds. I complained and tried to make DB see the light but he insisted that Hawk was not that fat and that he had not gained weight more than a few pounds. We made an over/under bet (and fun little wager *wink*) about whether he was above or below 75 pounds. Poor DB didn't stand a chance. Wanna know how much Fatty weighed in at? 83 pounds. Eighty. Three.

Our dog is a freakin sausage. So, Hawky has been on put on a very strict diet that has left him with the firm belief that we are in fact trying to starve him to death and his usual exercise has been increased ten fold. Well, apparently, DB is not the only one who failed to notice that he was not quite as small as they one were.... leading me to question if Hawkydog may have case of body dysmorphic disorder....

Because he clearly does not fit in this bed.

Or in this chair.

Its okay Hawkydog...you don't need to look ashamed. Its not your fault your Daddy made you fat!

"Hey, Mom! Why don't we go and check out what's in your closet! Huh! Still hanging on to those jeans from high school...Ha! Keep dreaming. Who has the disorder now?!"


"I love you even though your a fatty too!"

Ouch! Hawk, that hurt. That really hurt.