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Cheers,
Jenny

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Personal observation: The version of the blog at this address will no longer be updated.

Photo: Heading down the trail on a sunny Sunday.

You Don't Know It ALL!

I was a horse-crazy child. I drew horses in fields, I drew horses flying through the clouds... heck, I even drew a horse brushing it's teeth once. I read every horse book and magazine I could get my hands on. Whenever I could, I'd use horses in my school assignments.

My parents were not horse people. The chance of me getting a horse as a child was about as likely as winning a gold medal in dressage on a miniature donkey. Of course, you can't blame them. We lived in town and they didn't have a horse-keeping background. Our way of life simply didn't jive with horses.

To their credit, they indulged me whenever they could. Each summer they'd take me on a rental ride to satisfy my growing desire. We even took the mules down the Bright Angel trail at the Grand Canyon--the trip that sparked my love affair with mules.

Throughout grade school I was ecstatic just to talk about horses or play "horsey" in the backyard, so when I met a gal in my class who had a horse, I was over the moon!

Personal observation: Actually, it was a Shetland Pony, a breed that a friend of mine lovingly refers to as "bastard ponies." Nevertheless, her little bastard pony was the Black Stallion in my young eyes.

Unfortunately, she was not the sharing type. Instead of indulging my fancy, she constantly held the fact that she had a horse over my head. She'd hardly even let me touch her Breyers, let alone her precious pony! I was simply a horseless loser who couldn't handle the responsibility of horse ownership.

As an adult, I find it interesting how these seemingly insignificant situations we face as children sculpt our minds for the rest of our lives. By middle school, I was convinced that I wasn't a horse person. By high school, my interests had turned to music and cars. It wasn't until my mid-20s that my passion reignited, but I was still convinced that I wasn't a horse person.

Fortunately, a friend and coworker reintroduced me to the horse world at the ripe ole' age of 32. It hit my like a hoof to the back of the head--I can be a horse person! Why? Because this wonderful friend indulged my fancy and let me touch her horses.

Once the fire had been kindled, my entrance into the equine world came quickly. Within a year, I had purchased my first mule, Maxine. My parents thought I was moving too fast. My friends were surprised and a little confused. My husband? Well, thankfully my husband got it and gave me his blessing from the start.

Personal observation: Yes, he's wonderful. *swoon*

As I navigate through this horse life, I often think back to the horse-crazed fourth grader I once was. Sometimes that leads me to think of my know-it-all friend who talked like she was queen of the horse world.

Recently, my Mom gave me a photo of my on my friend's feisty mount that, in her father's words, "took forever to warm up so that the kids could ride him." When I saw that photo for the first time, a rush of vindication swept through my veins. You see, Little Miss Know-it-all had forgotten one highly important piece of tack called a curb chain. No wonder it took so long to warm up that pony!

Was it her fault? No, it's likely that her parents did the tacking up. Does it make her an idiot? Hardly, we were just kids. It simply goes to show that sometimes people have a much bigger influence over our lives than we'd like, even when they don't know any better. The truth is, it's best to just ignore the naysayers. They might be missing their curb chain!

Photo: Me riding my friend's bastard pony. Ironically, we seem to have the same mane!