Christmas Presence

If you can guess where this duck picture was taken, you will win a FABUlous picture of me 'n Tad Plaid. Why I thought my Dad would want a framed picture of me and my horse is unknown, but he gently, eventually, told me to take it home. I already have one. Jeeeeesh, Mom would have taken one! That's the trouble with Dad's, they really don't want more stuff. Especially horsey stuff. Humph. If it was a golf-ball holder.. Or some form of sport crap...

It is a great old shot of an amateur with her mouth open:)

It would be fun to ask for a critique on COTH, but hey, they have enough to do. And of course, it wouldn't sting me in the slightest, which is entirely the point, it seems. I always critiqued myself. It was fun.

I'll donate this pic to the first right answer. You can then sell the frame or something, and burn the picture. Sacrifice it to the pro-snark deities. Or whatever. So, the big question IS, Where are those ducks???

My Christmas Grove of Stick Tree and Rosemary Tree.
Isn't it lovely? Dontcha think Martha will be calling soon? Yeah, me neither.


Notice the "Barbie" Card, above Centered Riding. snerkle... It's a new decoration this year! You wouldn't believe how long it took me to do this Christmas extravaganza. I am totally exhausted. Send money, I feel a bout of Vincent Van Gogh-lia coming on:)
Sorry, inside joke, if you read anywhere else, you'll know there are horrors to be seen. Overandoverandover. STOP looking, fcs. Ooops. Sorry.

Today is my day to say this. Good day to die, grasshoppah.

Since I discovered the horsey internet, last year, I've been seeking the answer to a lifelong wondering. Why is "BarnBitch Syndrome" considered normal? It's the biggest problem facing horses today. Ask any of my terrified readers. How easy is it to ask a question, and not sound stupid? Why do you think questions are NOT asked? I'm tired of it, and I'm still on the side of civilized discourse, horsey wise:)

I'll tell you a mercifully brief story, which will help you understand why I've been wondering this for a long time. I started riding when I was 11. I wanted to from about the age of 1 and a half, when Butch rollcured/galloped into my life. Silly parents. Plant a seed. It's bound to grow.

Anyway, I started riding at a boarding/schooling barn, good old First/Worst, and was um, less mature and way more naive than the other girls. Most were at least 14 to 18. I looked like a dang stick until I was 38, but that's another story. The oldest "girl" was about 20. Top rider on the property, rode all of F/W guy's show/sale-horses. We'll call her AngelinaJolie, because she was that gorgeous, that felinely beautiful. Her "friends/cohorts/fellow riders" seemed to delight in snickering about her emotionalisms.

I didn't really understand what they were talking about, but sleeping pills before horse shows was gossiped about, and substituting "Smarties" was my idea, during one particularly merciless roasting, which AngelinaJ. just happened to walk in on. I hero-worshiped AJ. She rode like a master. The look on her face as the tackroom went silent made my heart shiver. See, I really started hating snarking right then and there, when I was 11. I was so ashamed. Why, just why?

I started teaching pretty young, at age 14. One of the things I quickly learned, was "you cannot laugh at your students". I mean, it seems obvious, doesn't it? I've never found beginnerdom funny. I guess I always felt too close to that outlook. I always wanted to know more. Still do.

If you can't say something nice about someone else and/or their horse, say something knowledgeable, politely, or say nothing at all. Unless of course, it's time to call the police or something. Or you're watching someone reefing the snot out of a horse's mouth, for no good reason. then, please, say something. Try to use your power voice. Try. But be careful out there!

Here's an old post of mine that still makes me cry. Weird old broad I am. I guess some find that scary;) Sorry. LessonsWithGoLightly

Merry Christmas to all, and to snark, Good night.