Warning: This is a test of the Jane Emergency Broadcast System…this is only a test…if this were a real emergency, she’d be begging you for donuts.
I am determined to see the glass half full today. No matter what.
I noticed my newly repaired saddle wasn’t sitting quite right on Hudson, and in fact seemed to smash on his withers and slide back. Huh. Odd that his back changed that much in a week. Can the balance of the saddle be changed by billets not put on properly? Doesn’t seem likely? I put it on Pops, who it also fits like a glove. Uh-oh. Smashing and sliding. I’ll ask Bella what she thinks.
The glass is half-full: my now totally useless, beautifully repaired saddle has a spectacular new saddle bag to keep it rat proof: it’s pink plaid! It has extra zipper pockets for gloves and spurs, and even a saddle pad pocket on top. It’s padded and lined, and it vents. Fabulous!
I text Bella for advice. My cell phone goes black. Then comes back on. Then goes black again. Uh-oh. Broken cell phone.
The glass is half-full: it still works occasionally!
Riding: Pops was first up today. Exactly what I needed for my ego: a solid dressage ride on a beautiful mover. Pops didn’t feel like working. He bit me.
The glass is half full: it was so cold the bite couldn’t penetrate my 600 layers of clothing! I was protected!
I checked him all over for soreness: he was stiff, but not sore. Put him on the lunge line to warm him up, ease the stiffness. Pops rears, and acts like an untrained OTTB, which he is most definitely NOT. Snakes his neck out at me and feints another bite. I let him have it: untrack him, making him back all the way across the arena, and send him into work. Acting like an idiot only brings on more work when you are with Jane. This makes him mad: he turns his butt toward me and kicks out hard. No where near me, but again, unacceptable disrespectful behavior. Kicking out in joy or fun is fine. Deliberately turning his butt toward me, aiming and kicking hard, not so much. Lucky Pops. He gets to work harder. I watch the time tick by. Am I still going to have time to ride?
Pops finally chills and listens, does the work, his eye softens, he relaxes, no more disrespect: I ask him to drop down to the walk from the trot. Uh-oh. Back to square one. Pops thinks this is a completely ridiculous request and won’t do it. It’s either stop dead and whirl toward me in a threatening manner, or trot on. No walking. Sigh. I try not to look at the clock. We have to deal with the horse that shows up, right? The next half hour is spent making him walk forward on the lunge line, halt, walk forward, halt, stop rearing, walk forward, no spinning, halt, walk forward, be respectful, walk calmly on…
You get the picture.
The glass is half full: I don’t get hurt. I got frustrated by how things were going, but not with Pops himself. We do end on a good note. I have ten minutes. I can ride!
As soon as I swing my leg over to cool him out, his farrier arrives. He’s getting shoes today? I didn’t get the memo.
I try not to think about the fixed-but-not-right saddle, the intermittent cell phone, the no Pops ride. I go to my car to check on the dog before I ride Tiny. (Okay. I really went for a dog-hug.) Turn on the car to heat it up. Uh-oh. Big flashing yellow light on the dash: SERVICE ENGINE SOON….SERVICE ENGINE SOON….SERVICE ENGINE SOON….
The glass is half full: my car goes into drive and reverse. The brakes are fine. Oil is fine. It works. The basics are there. I can get home.
I try not to panic over the mounting bills I see looming. All the drama and energy of finding the dagnabit half-full stuff with everything going south, I lost track of time, and I’m late. I’m supposed to meet Shaun to do Christmas stuff.
The glass is half full: there’s a note she’s gone to the gym. She doesn’t sound mad?
I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT HOW THIS DAY WENT.
The glass is half full: I want to feel thankful.
You caught that didn’t you. I want to feel thankful…