I stood here before inside the pouring rain...
Vacation was fun! I was a bit forlorn when I heard that they had sold yet another of the older horses. Recently, they've been altering the dude string by buying and selling, and although I don't object to the new horses, every time an old favorite departs it's as if a piece of the Ranch's face gets torn off. This time the victim was Patrick, a bay pony with a bad attitude. He's been at the Ranch for years, and he became sort of a legend. All the Ranch regulars had their own names for him; my eloquent sister used to call him "Patrick Poopy-head" when she was younger. Ahem. The most creative name I've heard was "Na-pony-an". He is small, yet has the temper of the great general. I applauded. Even though he was mean, he was fine to ride (his short neck made it particularly hard for him to bite you while you were on top of him). And now he's gone. Sigh. The personality of the Ranch is changing.
I used to be able to say that I had ridden every guest horse on the Ranch. When they were out in the pasture, I could identify them all by name. Each one had a small epithet. I derived a little sadistic pleasure from telling the less experienced guests that that golden horse's name was Buck, and the white one they were about to ride? Carrera, he was called. I waited until after I saw the looks on their faces to tell them that Buck was named after his golden buckskin color, and Carrera's name was poking fun at how slowly he liked to walk. Oh, and that Carrera was, in fact, male. Now, people might ask me about some chestnut or something and I sadly sigh, "Oh, he's new."
Enough of that melodramtic nonsense. It's hard to portray to someone who's never been there what the experience of the Ranch entails. I can try.
<--kickass
I am the second horse from the left. I admit, this picture wasn't taken from this trip (obviously, since the grass is green; it was taken during spring) but oh well.
...
Synopsis of trip:
So, I drove up with Mom while my younger sister missed school to come up early with Dad. He is the efficient one in the family, an attribute which I sorely missed. My mom had a bag whichj we were to put our boots and helmets into. While I put CD's into the car for the three 1/2 hour trip, my mom put the bag into the car. Suppossedly. Of course, I went to check on the dog after putting the CD's in. When I came back, Mom was in the car. Fast forward about two and a half hours.
Mom: Did you put your helmet in the car?
Me: *staring in disbelief* Um...I'm sorry?
Mom: I didn't see you bring it in so I wanted to make sure.
Me: Mom, it was on top of the bag with the boots. You know, the one I pointed out to you? You couldn't have moved that bag without bringing my helmet.
Mom: I don't think I brought your helmet.
Me: *it begins to dawn* You mean...
Mom: I can't remember if I put that bag in the car.
Me: *slaps own forehead with great force* So, you're saying you left ALL OUR BOOTS at home?
Mom:...
Me: It just so happens I put my extra pair of boots in my backpack, but my helmet...*whimper* And what are you going to do, ride in the shoes you're wearing now? *pauses* What shoes ARE you wearing now?
Mom: *grimaces*
Me: That bad? (it turns out she was wearing high heels) Well, maybe you can wear your tennis shoes, since you brought your tennis bag with you.
Mom: No. I took the shoes out of it then accidentally left them at home.
Me: *buries face in hands*
Despite these setbacks, plus the fact that my dad insisted on wearing this hideous, over-large bolo tie to dinner, we had a moderately good time. I mean, this thing was awful; it was this turquoise ROCK bigger than his ear! I shudder. Luckily, I think, we don't resemble each other too much, so I simply gave him a wide berth.
It was enjoyable.
I used to be able to say that I had ridden every guest horse on the Ranch. When they were out in the pasture, I could identify them all by name. Each one had a small epithet. I derived a little sadistic pleasure from telling the less experienced guests that that golden horse's name was Buck, and the white one they were about to ride? Carrera, he was called. I waited until after I saw the looks on their faces to tell them that Buck was named after his golden buckskin color, and Carrera's name was poking fun at how slowly he liked to walk. Oh, and that Carrera was, in fact, male. Now, people might ask me about some chestnut or something and I sadly sigh, "Oh, he's new."
Enough of that melodramtic nonsense. It's hard to portray to someone who's never been there what the experience of the Ranch entails. I can try.
<--kickass
I am the second horse from the left. I admit, this picture wasn't taken from this trip (obviously, since the grass is green; it was taken during spring) but oh well.
...
Synopsis of trip:
So, I drove up with Mom while my younger sister missed school to come up early with Dad. He is the efficient one in the family, an attribute which I sorely missed. My mom had a bag whichj we were to put our boots and helmets into. While I put CD's into the car for the three 1/2 hour trip, my mom put the bag into the car. Suppossedly. Of course, I went to check on the dog after putting the CD's in. When I came back, Mom was in the car. Fast forward about two and a half hours.
Mom: Did you put your helmet in the car?
Me: *staring in disbelief* Um...I'm sorry?
Mom: I didn't see you bring it in so I wanted to make sure.
Me: Mom, it was on top of the bag with the boots. You know, the one I pointed out to you? You couldn't have moved that bag without bringing my helmet.
Mom: I don't think I brought your helmet.
Me: *it begins to dawn* You mean...
Mom: I can't remember if I put that bag in the car.
Me: *slaps own forehead with great force* So, you're saying you left ALL OUR BOOTS at home?
Mom:...
Me: It just so happens I put my extra pair of boots in my backpack, but my helmet...*whimper* And what are you going to do, ride in the shoes you're wearing now? *pauses* What shoes ARE you wearing now?
Mom: *grimaces*
Me: That bad? (it turns out she was wearing high heels) Well, maybe you can wear your tennis shoes, since you brought your tennis bag with you.
Mom: No. I took the shoes out of it then accidentally left them at home.
Me: *buries face in hands*
Despite these setbacks, plus the fact that my dad insisted on wearing this hideous, over-large bolo tie to dinner, we had a moderately good time. I mean, this thing was awful; it was this turquoise ROCK bigger than his ear! I shudder. Luckily, I think, we don't resemble each other too much, so I simply gave him a wide berth.
It was enjoyable.