So that last post was ranty, no? I actually woke up at 3:30 this morning and had a hard time going back to sleep because I kept thinking, “What have I done to my blog? It was supposed to be a place for me to escape the stresses of life and focus on the good and/or humorous aspects.”
Because I have nothing else to think about at 3:30 in the morning (especially now that the kids have all their textbooks) I stress about my blog. Can we say, “misplaced anxiety”? Good job boys and girls!
Anyway, no more stressing out on the blog (much) (unless I can find more humor in it), because blah. It’s not helping me focus on the positive, and it can’t be all that fun for you to read.
Today I am going to give you the basics of how I got suckered into this horse nonsense. It’s simple really: I’m taking a break from being the rational person who has to say no to impulsive, expensive ideas. In short, I’m taking a break from being the heavy.
This is going to work out wonderfully for my children in the short term, because they are getting a horse. In the long term, unless I refuel my resolve and get my wits about me again, it is going to work to their detriment because they will grow into adult versions of Veruca Salt, and I’ll never be able to marry them off so that I can do something BIG, like travel the world or get caught up on the laundry.
I’m convinced my husband has manipulated the situation marvelously.
First he spent weeks talking about buying a house up the road, in Little Town, to use as a rental property. It’s a foreclosure deal, so not a bad price at all for what it is; but it needs work, which will take time and more money, and then it would need renters, which could be a royal pain. Or not. But my crystal ball broke. The only thing about the house that is remotely interesting to me is the one-seater out in the shed/workshop/small barn. Not that I’d want to use it, but it would be one of those quirky, “Guess what we own!” things. Still, not a reason to buy a house and gamble with finding good renters.
After several weeks of talking about the house, he moved back to the Camaro (yes, we’ve been there before).
“I know now isn’t the time to buy a new car, but my Cavalier is so, well, a Cavalier.”
“The driver’s side window on my car won’t go back up. Again.”
“The new Camaro has a six speed manual transmission. Come on, Elaine, you know you’d love to drive a six speed manual!”
And, alas, it is true. I much prefer manual transmission over automatic, and a six speed would be sooo fun. But where would I drive it? To the grocery store? At 55 mph the whole way? What’s the point?
Then one day some mental breeze blew, and he abruptly changed direction.
“You know, the girls just couldn’t stop talking about horse camp. They really loved it. I’ve been looking online at some horses (translation: I’ve looked at at least 10,000 horses on line and called on at least 2,500 of them, and now I have a list of horses to go look at), and there is a boarding stable about ten miles away and the girls would probably make friends with other kids there, and . . .”
“Late summer/early fall is the best time to buy a horse because fairs are ending and 4-H-ers are unloading unwanted animals. Additionally, now is a good time to get a horse because it is a buyer’s market due to all the problems with the economy. Plus? Two girls have birthdays coming up within the next two months, and . . .”
And now here we are.
This whole process, by the way, tends to happen about every six months to a year. We’d be completely broke, living in our 37th house, and having our Camaro, muscle cars, old beater trucks and ten horses repossessed if somebody around here didn’t insist on a little prudence every now and then.
(Quinn just said backpack!!! Yes, Dora is making one of her rare appearances in our house).
But what really made me decide to give in on this particular issue this particular time was the particular horse himself. I mean the actual horse – not making disparaging comments about McH.
Tennuvian horses are a cross between the Tennessee Walker and Peruvian Paso breeds. They are a very smooth gaited and good tempered horse, making them ideal for both people with back problems and children. Umm, not that you have to have back problems and children all at the same time or anything, just that they are good for either/or and/or both. Right? Moving along . . .
This particular Tennuvian is broke (I believe that is technically correct in the equine world; otherwise it would be “broken” but my guess is that has negative connotations when speaking about horses), well trained, and very gentle. He is a smooth ride, and we watched that little seven-year-old girl (daughter of the current owner) (I used the word “owner” – now PETA is going to be all up in my grill) ride him around like it was nothing. He is a good horse, not a show horse, but a good horse, and is very reasonably priced. He didn’t even flinch when A~ got her foot a bit tangled in the stirrup as she got on, and he also didn’t flinch when she got off on the wrong side.
This is where I have to say: There is a right side and a wrong side when you are getting on and off a horse? For freaking real?????
The guy who is selling the horse told McH he looked tense in the saddle, and that he really had nothing to worry about. I explained that McH wasn’t worried, that is just the way he always looks.
When it is a done deal and we have the horse in our local stable instead of three hours away (which should happen Friday, because my impulsive husband? doesn’t give me time to change my mind) I will post pictures. The current owner says he is a butt ugly horse, but otherwise is just really fantastic (well, except for the fact that he doesn’t like it when you shoot off of him, and he’s also not so fond of transporting the deer carcass back to the truck) (seriously); however I thought he was a very nice looking horse. But what do I know about horses?
That would be almost a big fat zero. Let me share with you what I do know:
*This horse is tall. 15.3 hands or some such thing.
*He has very huge feet for his size.
*I will not be mucking his stall at the stable.
*The girls will be mucking his stall at the stable (our boarding rate is cheaper if we do it ourselves, so “they” are now “we”).
*I need to buy boots.
*My children are horrifically spoiled, but this will be everyone’s birthday and Christmas.
*If anyone feels like taking a trip out to the middle of nowhere, we’d be happy to saddle up the new family pet and let you have a ride.
In other news: it’s a good thing the closest Sonic is at least 40 minutes away, otherwise I’d quickly become addicted to Mango Limeade.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt is trying to decide: cowboy or English riding boots?