Consistent Posting? *snort* What was I Thinking??

Ok. So, when I say I'm back for more consistent posting. . .it never quite works out, does it?

*ahem* I am NOT back for more consistent posting. <--period for added effect (Let's see how reverse psychology works.)

My cousin apparently wants me to be a contributor on her new horse website HerdNerds. Check it out. And pay close attention to her side of things -- she is super experienced and super talented when it comes to the horse realm. My stuff: eh, not so much. I mean, seriously: my experience is riding my blind pony around in my backyard. O.O
With a few years of hunter and jumper training mixed in there somewhere. And riding a couple'a barrel horses a time or two. But that's ALL the hands-on experience I have. Everything else is via reading and reading and reading and some more reading -- oh, and research.

Since I last left you: I finished and graduated from highschool/gradeschool-- kind of an exciting time *_* ; participated in my piano teacher's year-end recital that she holds for all of her students -- I played "Dawn", from Pride and Prejudice for both of her recitals in the same afternoon; I've FINALLY completed registration for and will be officially attending my town's local community college in the fall (that only took how long and cost everyone how much effort? -.- )

And I'm being lazy and spending my first summer days reading all about horses and training and messin' around with JoJo. :) Oh, not to mention all the fun my sister and I are having with my new camcorder and Breyer Horses. ;)

WAAAAIIIT!!! I almost forgot to mention one of the most exciting things! "See No Evil" is in its third editing process; and it is already available for *purchase* through myself (I may have a teeny little secret. . . ;) ). Ok, ok, so it's not "officially" published -- but it's a start, right? And I'm hoping to try to get it out there on the table and at least figure out what the word "publishing" really, truly, exactly means by the end of the summer.

Last year my summer project was to crochet an afghan. This year it's to publish my book. A step up? I think so. But Joey and I are ready for it (I hope. . .) ;)

~Sam

More Changes to the Blog and Votes for Photos!

Ok, so, I want to enter a horsey photo contest that ends in June. June the first, to be precise. And these are the two pictures that have gotten the most votes so far. The judges are looking for a clear, clean photo that has a good subject and doesn't show poor horsemanship; and the "theme"/objective of the contest is "your horse being a horse/doing what he loves best". They didn't mention grazing on their list of horsey things for some odd reason, but knowing Joey. . .it was a no-brainer. ;)




Picture #1

Picture # 2

Yay! It worked! (The silly blogger-thing wouldn't let me type here, only on the captions to the photos. I've been sitting here trying for a good 10 minutes. -.- )

 

And THANK YOU, SILLY BLOGGER-THINGY; now I am all out of time to actually type a legit blog post-entry-thing. -.-

 

So yeah; vote for your favorite picture above, (<-- comma. there) below in a comment -- Haha: "above below". :P

Probably better add a comma. . .

 

Registering for college has been unnecessarily hard. -.- Making my THIRD trip to the admin. office tomorrow, or Friday, or whenever I choose to go back. I'm done doing it on their time.

 . . .but then, I guess I would have to go more times, huh?

 

Oh, and more updates to Prints. I retyped Joey's page and added some different pictures. Check it out. See if you can spot all the changes. ;)

 

Out.

 

~Sam

Blog Under Construction

. . .Well? Did you read the title? o.O

What do you think of the new blog look for Prints? I'm hoping to add a header picture and few to go on the sides and I may organize a bit. . .to be determined, I guess.

Dude! More followers! O.O That shocks me, honestly; haven't been on and all. . .

BUT THAT IS ABOUT TO CHANGE! (maybe. . ) lol I hope so, anyway. :P

Just wanted to let you all know that I have NOT fallen off the face of the earth. Geez, almost a whole two months has been and gone without me posting. I'm so. . .sorry. . .? I've been pretty busy (graduating in less than a month; yup, prepping for that'll take up some time).

So, don't give up on me. I WILL be back with pictures and posts and lots of good tidbits about what Joey and I (and all our freaky retarded cats) have been up to lately. ^.^

Until then, enjoy your Hoofprints-less life. ;)

Out.

~Sam

No Access to Blogger And A Horse Journal Entry

I will not have access to blogger from Monday to Friday. Just sayin'. :)

Horse Journal 2-18-13

I haven't been writing much in here because Joey and I haven't been doing as much. I think weather is to blame, again.

As far as training the bow goes: Joey can bow his head to the ground between his front legs and lift his left leg at the same time, on cue.
Mosie still hasn't gotten the second video up for training the bow; but I saw she mentioned in one of her comments to somebody else that one of the next steps is to get Joey to extend his right leg. After thinking forever on how to make that step up (and wondering if I should even attempt it on "my own", meaning without any idea of what I was doing), I decided that we would go about it like we did the leg-lifts --- I mean, it's kinda the same thing only uncurling out.
So the last three sessions, besides reviewing what we already know and just plain messing around, I've been lifting Joey's right leg and slowly uncurling it to the front until it's resting, extended on the ground in front of him.
I even started saying an unconscious verbal cue right from the start: "Forward". I never thought about what verbal cue I was gonna use; it just happened, like most of my verbal cues, because I talk to my pets while working with them.
During the first leg-ex. session, because he had no idea what I had in mind, Joey's leg was quite stiff as I slowly uncurled it to extend as I lowered. Since then, in three sessions, we've done it the same way numerous times and I think he's starting to get the idea of what I'm looking for. He's not one who will generally try to figure it out on his own; he needs a lot of guidance during the first few lessons. But with most things, he's a pretty quick learner. And he usually remembers things well.
Sometimes, he still thinks I mean "back" when I say "left". And when we go into "forward", he thinks I'm looking for "left".

In other news, he bit me on purpose for the first time ever the other day --- just chomped down on my arm and left two large bruises. We were girthing up for a ride, and even though he didn't appear to be girth-sore when I checked, I still wonder if it was just a knew-jerk reaction to some sharp pain from the girth. Either way, I let him know that biting is not okay period by telling him to get away from me and leave me alone for a few moments. He stood, saddled, looking very sorry and dejected on the other side of the paddock while I checked my arm for severed skin underneath my sweatshirt. Then I went over and clipped the lead line back onto his halter and we continued on with our ride and breakfast as if nothing had ever happened. He hasn't bitten me since, though he watches me closely while fiddling with the girth.

As far as riding goes: for the last four days or so, we've been riding consistently. I haven't been pursuing that partner-connection as much (or rather, I just haven't been completely focus on it). We've just been riding for the fun and sake of riding.
I've noticed that his brakes hardly work at all from anything faster than a fluid trot. The only time I felt in full control while trotting and cantering was when I felt like I had the bit too high after I experimented by tightening/raising the bit in his headstall. It can be kind of a problem, and I'm not really sure how to fix it.

I also want to take note here that Joey has not been acting completely like himself lately. He picks at his hay and acts bored and grumpy --- or did until we started riding again. I think maybe it was because I couldn't get out to spend time with him because the weather was bad.

Back to present day.

I do have an update to post since this entry in my Horse Journal was written; but I am out of time for today (and have already done two posts today). Unfortunately, it will probably have to wait until the week after next. :/

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your comments!

~Sam

Mom's Birthday [Cake Incident]

Yesterday was Mom's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!!! ^.^ )

*ahem* It was also grocery day: the day of the week that my mother goes out for a good couple of hours to have lunch with Dad and buy the week's forage. The perfect opportunity to make her a surprise birthday cake, eh? ;)

Before we get any further with this I will state right here that despite my efforts, the only things that I have actually been requested to make by my family are fruit smoothies and my oatmeal-raisin-chocolate chip cookies. Yeah; not such a hot mama in the kitchen. :P
But I was determined to bake Mom something special in honor of the day. (I never dreamed Dad would have the same idea. . .)

To give myself the most possible amount of time, I began my baking venture as soon as she walked out the door, which was around 11, or so (she got a lot of, "So, when are you leaving?" "Shouldn't you go soon if you're going to have lunch with Dad?" "You might want to give yourself quite a bit of time to get there. . .why? oh, just because. . ." lol!)
I had perused all of the dessert cookbooks on her shelf for easy recipes for cake icing; I was prepared to not go beyond my limits and just use one of those Betty Crocker cake mix boxes. But for some reason the one I wanted to use didn't have a recipe for icing on the side --- you'd think that they would make things easier than they are by doing that for people, but they don't.

Anyway, upon my futile search for chocolate cake icing, I found a recipe for chocolate fudge pudding-cake. Now, I've made one of these in the past at Mother's request --- but in the crock pot. It was a slow-cooker recipe then. And I certainly wasn't going to do that now. But the one I found in her many pages of random recipes printed off of the Internet was for a pudding-cake that was baked in the oven. And it was easy. And it was from a source I've used for a tasty brownie recipe before. And Mom apparently really likes pudding-cake. Bingo.

Mix up all of the ingredients, heat up the oven, and [nervously] pop it in (I'm always nervous when I have to do anything in the kitchen because, as I have previously stated, I am no Julia Child.)
As a plus to the garden hedgehog statue that I got for Mom to sit in her herb garden this year, I decide that I will also help her out by keeping up the housework while she is away. And I mean, really keeping up the housework.

A few loads of laundry later, I open the oven to find. . . . . a messy, but decent chocolate pudding-cake. Okay, so it didn't turn out horrible as I had secretly expected. Heck, it might even be called pretty rich. I set the oven on "warm and hold" to keep it warm until Mom gets back home and then we can all marvel at how awesome my pudding-cakes are. The day will end lovely and I will feel like I actually did something special for once on Mom's birthday, something that she can appreciate. I sing my way through the dishes and back into the laundry room (not to mention being exceedingly patient with the littles as I put them down for a [much needed] nap). Nothing can go wrong.

And then Dad gets home. I'm out feeding the horse as it's pouring rain, telling my boy all about the wonderful surprise I have waiting for Mom. I can't wait!
I hear Dad's truck pulling up the drive, he stops, rolls down the window and calls out, "Hiya! You almost done? Can you come up and help me? I got some stuff to celebrate Mom's birthday." He continues up the drive as my heart starts to pound and eventually sinks as I think about how inevitable it is for him to buy a cake. I take plenty of time making my way back to the house and his truck, kicking myself for not thinking that of course Dad would buy Mom a cake on her birthday, trying to formulate a plan in my head of what I'm going to tell Dad. I can't possibly tell him that he's just set a full-blown thunderstorm on my lovely little parade. *sigh*

"What did you get?" I call above the beat of the rain as I near his open truck door. "Oh, just some flowers and a big, beautiful, chocolaty cake!" He says this last part with the look on his face that he gets when he thinks he's doing something very special for us and he knows that we're going to love it. Normally, he's right; but now my mind races with what to say.
He hands me the flowers and requests that I find a vase for them and arrange them. "Oh, Shelby's much better at that than I am," I quickly say, coming up with a plan. Shelby will take care of the flowers and I will hide the cake that is still warming in the oven. . .somehow.

We make it into the kitchen and I am amazed that he doesn't even seem to notice the oven that is on. Usually he would immediately ask me why in the world the oven is on, as if I had purposely turned it on with the motive of burning down the house. But he says nothing, as he turns around and goes back out the door! Now's my chance. I wait a second to make sure he's not coming back in right away, and then I frantically grab some potholders, switch off the oven, and rip my cake out of the oven. But --- what to do with it?? How do I get a hot cake out of sight?? Shelby comes in as I'm unconsciously opening a drawer. "I'll grab some hot pads to sit under it so that he has no reason to get mad at us if it's discovered," she says sensibly. Yes, hot pads, why didn't I think of that? My younger sister helps me hide the cake just as Dad walks back into the house.

I nonchalantly sway back into the laundry room to finish folding a load from the dryer as Dad and Shelby continue with the preparations for the dinner table. I think I'm covered with the cake incident. .  . .until I remember: There are six other people in this house who have been looking forward all day to eating my chocolate pudding-cake. They are surely bound to say something when Dad presents his flashy, chocolaty tower to them. But how to let them know of the situation discreetly? Then I've got it.
I call each child back to put away his/her clothes, whispering to each a quick explanation of why we will not be eating my cake. Everyone agrees not to say anything to Dad. We don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or cause a scene. And now that I think about it: if word got out to Dad about my cake, certainly pulling it out of a drawer in his presence is going to be rather embarrassing. Oh dear.
Now I'm thinking of how I can get the cake out of the drawer and into somewhere else that would not be so embarrassing to pull it out of should the need arise. (A drawer, really? Who's idea was that??)

It turns out, the best idea comes from Mom, herself. I slink upstairs with my own clothes and the telephone hidden beneath them. No, it's not safe to use the land line; what if Dad were to need the phone while I was on it and noticed that it was being used? Best use my cell.
So I call Mom and explain the whole thing. It sounds pretty silly when I actually try to explain it to someone else. Funny how it seems like such a catastrophe at the time.
She laughingly tells me to put it in the back of the refrigerator. Why didn't I think of that?

We end up eating Dad's cake that night, and the pudding-cake today after lunch while he's at work. I still don't think he knows. :P
Next time, I think I'll check with him before I surprise everyone with a cake.

~Sam

A Tribute to Lexi

Last week--as well as being my birthday week (February the 12th!! ^.^ )-- marked the one year anniversary for Lexi and I.
*ahem* So here is a sort of tribute to my girl (and ohmygosh it didn't save any of it from the first time I typed it all out!) :

In late January of last year, I was going through a really depressing time. One day, a dog came up the drive way. He was a big male that I thought had a bit of pitbull in him; but I needed a friend, and he was sweet, so I said, "Ok, Lord, a special dog would be nice." I named him Fella and fed him and we became friends. . .before he left 2 hours later, never to be seen again.



The very next day, my mom was leaving the house to go grocery shopping. She called the house when she got to the bottom of the driveway and told me that there was a stray puppy down there that she wanted me to feed. So I went tramping off with a bowl of food once again, though I thought it was an odd coincidence.
I honestly expected the cute puppy to wander away as soon as she was done scarfing down the food. After all: once a wanderer, always a wanderer, right?

She was very much afraid of the kitties when she first arrived.
I don't think she'd ever seen one before. :P

But she ended up shadowing me everywhere I went, except into the house, because we don't allow strange dogs into the house. She was afraid of the other kids, though I could tell that she wanted to make friends.

The stray puppy stayed at our house for four weeks straight without leaving. We fed her every other day, because my dad didn't really like the idea of taking on yet another animal's care. But after four weeks, he was calling her my dog and laughing about her persistence.

Maggie wants to go out and play with "the stray puppy".

I started calling her Lexi because I got tired of referring to her as "that stray puppy".

For my birthday last year, my mom took me and a friend of mine to a small conference given by one of my favorite Christian authors.
After the weekend was over, we arrived home late that Sunday night. It was an especially cold night and snow was predicted. I couldn't help but worry about the puppy; I hoped that she wouldn't run away since I'd been gone and it had been cold. She was still afraid of the other kids.

When I walked through the door and upstairs to my bedroom, I found her, with a brand new pink collar, bouncing off my bed ecstatically to greet me! "I'll expect you to take full responsibility for her," my Dad told me, standing in the doorway.

I hadn't expected that I wanted a dog. And, funny as it may sound, a tri-color was the last color that I would have wanted (but then, I didn't want a black horse, either). And because I was so depressed at the time, I didn't want to have to care for somebody else other than my horse--I wanted only to live in self-pity, at least for a little while longer. But Lexi soon changed all that.

She eventually graduated to a bed of her own (still way too large); but God brought this puppy into my life at the perfect time. Her seemingly inexhaustive energy has kept me on my toes. And she has been so needy for love and human approval that she forced me to get over my depression faster by giving me someone to love and hug and care for.
Sure, Joey needs his care, too; but this little stray puppy that never leaves my side and is bouncing off the walls nearly all of the time begs for attention and affection way more than my introverted horse. In fact, she is the horsenality that I wish Joey had, and he is the dog that I always wanted. How weird is that? xD

It has been one year. Thank you, Lord, for the puppy that I didn't ask for.

Joey's Two Cents

Joey here.

I was beginning to doze the other day as Mom and I stood together absorbing the sun's warm rays, when she began one of her jabbering spells again. (She does this most times, I think, without realizing it: we'll have a long period of thoughtful silence, and then she'll startle me awake with a spell of talking. It makes sleep nearly impossible because she usually starts talking just as I'm beginning to doze off.)
Anyway, this time what she had to say actually interested me. She said that she had been asked by more than a few people to write a blog post on what it's like to own a blind horse. And she was despairing of the fact that to her, interacting with me was pretty much like interacting with any other horse. She said she couldn't think of any differences to set out in a blog entry.
Now, hearing the sometimes frustrated comments that I do from her from time to time, I know that what she says about there being no differences isn't entirely true. Perhaps she was just having one of her super uncreative moments -- I don't know. But I thought that, since I am said blind horse, I would help her out by writing my own bog post. (Technically I'm dictating to Lexi, who is typing it out for me seein' as how I appear to lack fingers. In return, her tribute will be finished and posted in the next entry.)

Being blind isn't nearly the sob-story that some might make it out to be. Sure, it can be frustrating at times, not being able to see where you're going (I'm constantly tripping over roots; Mom says I just need to pick my feet up more. . .but, whatever.) The way I see it, you can't spend your whole life just standing in one place. Despite the darkness, you gotta move on, always reaching forward -- that's how you go places.

Training used to be a problem for Mom and I. It took her a while to understand that she couldn't use the same body language cues like she does with other horses because I just couldn't see them. I could hear her sighs and growls of frustration as I didn't respond the right way when she tugged on a rope -- I tried my best, I really did! Especially when she got it into her head to rely on sounds rather than sight. But, again, she didn't completely understand. She was headed in the right direction with her theories; but there were too many sounds -- the wind whistling in my ears as I cantered around her on the lunge line; the beat of my own hooves as well as her boots stomping, trying to cue me to do something; along with the many clucks, smooches, words, tones, and breathing -- all the sounds seemed to pile on top of each other and they became confusing as well as frightening!
Add to the mixture my analogies of the ground under, behind, and in front of me as well as what I thought was around me, and you've got a potentially stressful training session in sensations alone, at least, for me.

For a slightly accurate example: Has there ever been a time when you were in one room, and somewhere else in the building there was what appeared to be a strange noise. You can't see what made the noise, but in your mind you race through all the possibilities that you know of that would explain it. Well, that's kinda what it's like for me -- only most times there's much more than one sound to analyze, and there's smells and my image-less surroundings as well. A lot of horses my mom tells me about sound like they couldn't even take the guessing game with helpful images to add to the picture. My world sound a lot more frightening and stressful -- and sometimes it can be -- but, for the most part, I enjoy the logic that goes into figuring out the guessing game. And, for some reason, I don't get scared.

The only thing that frustrates me about being blind (besides the tripping over numerous roots in a row) is when my mom likes to play hide and seek with my food. I will hear her in the grain room getting my ration; and then suddenly everything will get really quiet. . .and I don't know where she is with the food. . .
Then I'll hear her rattle the feed on the other side of the pasture, and I'll have to figure out where she is, exactly, and how I can get to her. She laughs and pokes harmless fun at me while she encourages me; she even moves to an easier spot if it proves too difficult. But no matter how many times she says it's good for me, I will always believe it is an unnecessary waste of energy. -_-

Some days the blindness leaves for a little while and I can see some vague shapes and bright colors. Mom never wins hide and seek when she's wearing her bright red rain coat on those days. ^.^
But for the most part, my world is made up of sound, touch, and smell.

That's all the time I have for today; unfortunately the farrier just got here to trim my hooves (and I thought I heard something about worming. . . >_> ). I might do another post some other time. I like this blogging idea. For once people can hear it "straight from the horse's mouth". ;)
If you have any specific questions about blind horses concerning working, training, or just life in general-- or questions about myself-- feel free to ask in a comment below.

Here comes Mom with the rope halter. Gotta go.

~Joey