horse | A Demented Dame

Horse Hunting, Children of the Corn and Deliverance

Just life, Pets, Uncategorized 6 Responses »

Jul 312012

It's been a while and I do vaguely remember saying that I would post some pictures after we came back from horse hunting. Sounds funny doesn't it, "horse hunting". My friend Stewart would get a kick out that because he's a big hunter while I, on the other hand, am a huge supporter of gun control. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against hunting, just not people hunting people.

I'm really off track here aren't I? and I have enough to say about gun control to fill this particular post but I'll let it slide for today.

We went horse hunting two weeks ago and it has taken me two weeks to recover. Where do I start? This is going to take a few posts to relate the road trip from hell and trust me I've been stuck in a truck with no air conditioning driving from Colorado to Las Vegas in August with Beerhound when I only weighed 128 pounds at 5'9". I couldn't afford to lose one more pound. I think I lost 10 pounds in sweat alone. Wonderful trip and yet we still got married. I'm not that much into signs, can you tell?

I'm going to bullet form here. That way I can come back and really make you snort coffee and thank the sky above that you are not me.

* A Ford Excursion with a rented horse trailer attached, higgledy piggledy, because of the wonderful store we rented from.

* Liz, me, Emma and in the middle, three children 5, 4, and 1. Who would alternately love you or stab you depending on their moods. Emma and I love them but seriously, think, children of the corn and they all have the biggest blue eyes you have ever seen.

*We were on the road for over 12 hours.

*Because Nuvi doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. I don't care how many stars she gets on Amazon. We took back-roads I didn't even know existed and drove past homes that resembled my mom's family (think deliverance) in North Carolina.

*It thundered and rained, lightening flashing everywhere.

*The kids found a huge horse trough and all three got in while I wasn't watching so they got to ride naked in their car seats. No, we forgot to bring extra clothes, so shoot us.

*Emma got car sick for the first time in her life.

*She could only get out of the car through the back window.

*She bought the kid's markers and coloring books. They decided to draw on each other, themselves and the baby.

*I left my $1400.00 camera at one of the farms where we looked at a horse that was only a third of that price. I'm still waiting for them to mail it to me. (They were really nice, so I'm not worried but still I could of kicked myself all the way home).

*I eventually was forced to pee in the horse trailer on the hay because Nuvi had taken us to the only area in the world uninhabited by humans. Does that make me a true cow woman?? The bad news, I had to pee in a horse trailer, in a horse trailer, again, in a horse trailer. The good news, I learned how to pee standing up in college (come on like none of you didn't, puleeeze). I've still got it. So I did do a fist pump when I came out of the trailer. Bad knees and all, I've still got it.

*At one point, we stopped at an overlook to see the Shenandoah valley. It was gorgeous. We all looked like white trash and I'd prove it to you if I had taken pictures but that's when I realized I left my camera at the first barn, 9 hours later so there was no turning around.

*Did Emma find a horse? Why yes she did, thank you. The next day, at a friends barn, less than 15 minutes from Liz's barn.

*Her name is Maggie Mae. Which, just for information sake, has forced me to change my Maggie to McKenna. That is fine by me since I didn't really like the name Maggie and I love Gaelic names.

By the way, I would never knowingly throw two small children and a baby in a car for a 12 hour drive. Neither would Liz. Let's just say Nuvi fucked us over. I can't be sure but I think she wants to marry Liz's husband, who is this super buff, cute, young diver. She was trying to get us lost, kidnapped and thrown into some breeding program (again, think deliverance) that can only be found in the backwoods of Virginia. Seriously. One day I'll post pictures of my mom's family and let you decide for yourselves.

Maggie Mae

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50, existential moments, meditation has led me to another horse. Cr..!

Home, Just life, over 50, Pets, Uncategorized 7 Responses »

Jul 172012

Though I thoroughly expected to spend most of my time this year writing about my existential experience of turning 50, life seems to take over. Forget about trying to dissect my inner being, my innermost needs and wants. Forget about spending time in meditation seeking my path as I move towards the latter part of my life.

NO. I'm off to buy another horse. Have I ever explained that until I was 49, I had never even been on a horse? Emma had. She's taken lessons for years but not me. I had a bad experience with a trail horse when I was 7 and yes I do remember being 7. I'm not that damn old.

After that nightmare, I vowed never to come within 100 yards of another horse. I'd ride a camel first. Horses are big, really big, even ponies and they have nasty looking teeth. They poop in huge amounts. They pee in huge amounts. The males let their appendage just hang and dangle while they eat or relax. Seriously??? I don't want to see anyone's appendage hanging and dangling as they stroll through life and their's is not small by any stretch of the imagination.

But once again life stepped in. Emma started to ride again on a horse named Argo. It did wonders for her mental health and she and sweet fairy were entrancing, riding and frolicking with each other on their horses. When I would go out to the barn, special warmth would invade my senses and my all my muscles would relax. It seemed as if my mind could finally take an opportunity to leave all the worries it possessed at home and I was able to embrace the moment.

Sounds poetic, doesn't it? I even started enjoying shoveling shit and that is a new low because I certainly don't like cleaning up after my stupid pets - none of which I might add aren't really mine but that's another story.

The farm owner has become one of our dearest friends and eventually I bought Maggie Blue, a three year old Thoroughbred. I'm learning to ride. We're paying for our goddaughter, Pink Princess, to learn how to ride. And Liz (The true pioneer woman and epic at that) is helping me to harness train Maggie and prepare her for Western Pleasure showing. Maggie is my baby and I adore her although deep down I know she really just loves me for the apples but then my daughters just love me for the shoes they can talk me into so I'm used to it.

But, with any situation comes the rub. Ah, there's the rub. The rub being Beerhound, though he is to blame for every cat we have owned or fostered (we meaning Emma and I. Oh and I might add - I hate cats) has taken a very displeasing stance against buying another horse. I'm not sure why because after 26 years of marriage, three kids - 28 hours, 14 hours and 18 hours of hard labor in that order, 6 dogs, 14 cats, 8 guinea pigs, 2 rats (did he not see Ben or Willard??), 2 gerbils - totally useless for anything even eating, 6 deployments of 6 months or longer, four moves starting from San Diego where we actually owned our home to Virginia - the pit of southern conservatism (have you ever listened to our governor or Eric Cantor? Need I say more?) not to mention duty days, 3 month deployments, touring the Vatican on Christmas Eve while my mother was dying and I was stuck with two small children and a crazy woman, a week spent in the Virgin Islands while I was wiping baby butts, having dinner with nuns drinking their homemade wine while I was subjected to hot dogs, macaroni and cheese and mandarin oranges,

I'm taking a breath,

HE OWES ME!!!! A debt that he can never repay.

And the fucking horses don't even live with us so they're not chewing my furniture like his beloved Rue, who sleeps with us every night. Yes, a 75 pound pit bull baby sleeps in my bed and by the morning he has wiggled his little ole body up until his head is right between me and Beerhound. Usually on one of our pillows.

Ever smelled pit bull breath first thing in the morning? No? Worse than husband breath. At times, worse than husband gas depending on what Rue has decided was appropriate to eat the day before while no one was watching. I'll let you figure that one out.

So, I"m off to rent a horse trailer so we can drive 4-6 hours to look at three horses. Tomorrow I'll post my texting conversation with Beerhound and just for fun I'll post the picture of a chair lovingly given into our care by our neighbors because they moved and wanted it to go to a good home. It used to belong to Betsy's mom. Her mom died several years ago. Rue has really enjoyed it.

Namaste - this meditation shit is really going to come in handy.

Susan

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My conversation with Twana

Just life, Parenting, Teenagers, Uncategorized 9 Responses »

Nov 082011

Emma had a doctor's appointment today. Just a regular, how's it going, let's get some blood work, hows the birth control working visit.

NO, Emma has very serious cramping and PMS symptons. What works to correct those problems? Birth control. Please remember whose blog you are reading. Emma finds any boy beneath the age of 20 unappealing. It's not their looks. It's their intelligence and plain old common sense. She believes that all boys 20 and under aren't firing on all cylinders. She's an elitist. The ability to hold a decent conversation is important to her. Being able to do stupid tricks and crack idiotic jokes, not so important. What's a girl to do???

We went to the barn this morning, just like most mornings. It was gorgeous out, sunny, bright, little breeze, the smell of fall in the air, leaves beginning to turn from green to deep reds and oranges. Our intent was to spend our time loving on horses, riding and training Argo, cleaning water containers and enjoying each other's company. Sounds great, doesn't it. What a wonderful way to spend your Monday morning. Ah., but we forgot to take one thing into consideration. We usually do, though our hopes are always high and we leave our house with a sense of excitement.

Argo. We forgot to take into account Argo. How silly of us. Argo is 6, a beautiful palomino, 17 hands, sweet-natured, aloof, and an overall butthead. Liz wants to have her trained to start competition by spring. We sigh. Okay, O, pioneer woman. We'll give it our best. But I'm telling you right now, working with a horse that you love but have no problem calling an asshole makes you wish showing guinea pigs was a sport.

**And don't anyone dare tell me, it's an actual sport. Once again, guinea pigs were meant to be eaten. You cannot convince me otherwise. If you saw the amount of room they take up in my office, you'd agree.**

Argo was in no mood to co-operate this morning. Think about the worst 4 year old you have ever witnessed in Walmart. Now picture Argo's face where the kid's face would go and viola! you have Argo.

Training a horse is no different than training a 4 year old kid. There can be only one winner. There will be no compromise. Patience, perseverance and stubbornness will take the day. If you put a child in time out, for non-compliance, he stays in time out. No matter how many times you have to pick the child up and place him back in the time-out chair, you don't give in. Trust me on this point. I have a 20 year old and 17 year old. If you give an inch, they'll take a mile and you'll be paying for it the rest of your life. Witness the tampon paper, on the floor, in the bathroom, next to the garbage can that you can open with your foot, same garbage can placed within 12 inches of the toilet. Yeah, I compromised.

You cannot give up until the child realizes your way is his way. The same principle is followed with Argo. There are a few minor differences of course. Argo weighs, maybe, 2000 pounds and trying to physically push her to the edge of the ring is like trying to make Beerhound clean a toilet. We've been married 26 years and he hasn't cleaned one yet. Horses also have no concept of time. A child will get tired, hungry, want to go out and play, want some juice, knows his favorite show is coming on or daddy is coming home. A horse doesn't fucking care. They don't know what time is. They don't even recognize the concept of time. It's fucking annoying, that's what it is.

Since we don't believe in physically hurting a horse, it comes down to who is willing to wait the situation out the longest. And it better damn well be you.

Emma had a doctor's appointment at 1:30. Argo didn't give a shit, no matter how much we tried to explain it to her. I personally grabbed her halter looked her in the eye and said, "Look butthead, trot damn it. I've got places to go." Argo just blinked and then snuffled my sweats to see if I had any sugar cubes in there. Sugar cubes my ass. At that point, I would of eaten them right in front of her.

Hence my call to Twana. I love Twana. She's my favorite receptionist. Dr. Mahon is our favorite doctor. We've seen her for almost 11 years now. At least enough to pay for her BMW.

I call on my cellphone, standing outside the ring, while Emma cracks the whip and yells "Trot, Argo, trot." over and over and over again.

Twana: "Hello, Roosevelt Medical Center. This is Twana."

"Hey Twana. This is Susan Hemingway."

"Well, hey, Mrs. Hemingway. How you doing?"

"Great thanks. How are you?" - "Trot, damn it Argo, Trot."

"I'm doing good. What can I do for you? Doesn't Emma have an appointment in an hour?" - "Trot, Argo, Trot. Fucking A, now I've got a blister. Argo!"

"Yes, she does. That's what I'm calling about. I need to cancel it. See, Emma's in the ring with Argo and Argo won't behave. She's not doing anything Emma is telling her to do, nothing. She's being a real butthead. And, well, you just can't leave a horse when they are disobeying because they don't have any sense of time and if Emma left right now, well, Argo would win the battle and the next time Emma came out, which would probably be tomorrow, Argo will only behave worse and it will be like starting from first base all over again. You can't imagine how frustrating this situation is. Sigh. Starting over would be a nightmare and you only want one nightmare a week. I feel so bad for Emma, she looks like she's ready to collapse. Oh shit, a bee." Jumping, swatting, ducking. "So you see, Twana, we're here in Chesapeake and I don't think Argo is going....."

" Mrs. Hemingway. Mrs. Hemingway?"

"Yes?" - "Argo, I'm not moving. Get going!"

"I don't know who Argo is but you tell Emma I'm rooting for her. How does next Monday look?"

"Oh, good, good." - "Argo, sweet Jesus, just trot."

"Okay then, I'll pencil you in for next Monday. And don't worry about the 24 hour notice charge. You sound like you need a drink."

"Twana, you are the greatest, you know that?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do and that's why you always remember me at Christmas. I do need a new scarf. You have a good day now and I'll see you next Monday. Bye."

And with that she hung up.

We were there another hour. Argo finally gave in and trotted beautifully around the ring. Stopped right in front of me. Snuffled my face.

Yea, sugar cubes my ass.

Not Argo, by a fucking long shot!!

Susan, who never thought a horse would be more challenging than Beerhound

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