Beyond Watermelon

Allen dropped me off this morning so I could pick up my car from the shop. It had been there since September 10th, 12 days ago, when I had a blow-out on my way home from the ranch and found out that the tires to my hybrid weren't so easily replaced. I could have picked up the car much sooner (9 days sooner), but I didn't want to spare the time since I was preparing for the FSR Schooling Show and needed every last minute to work. I drove my truck instead.

As we were driving to get my car, I realized, with horror, that I had forgotten something of vital importance.

I gasped.

"What's wrong?" Allen asked.

"I left a watermelon in the car."

At the time, when the tow-truck driver dropped off the car, I had assumed I would pick it up the next day. When the Chevy people told me it would take the weekend to fix, I didn't think about the watermelon. And by the time I decided not to worry about getting the car until the show was over, I had forgotten about the watermelon altogether.

I don't think it's necessary to describe to any of you what 90-degree heat (higher inside a closed vehicle) does to ripe fruit.

What is important to tell you is that I have an unusual phobia. I can handle blood and guts with ease. I can deal with dog puke or kid puke or any manner of poop. None of that bothers me at all. But I can't bring myself to go near a rotten fruit or vegetable. Just the sight of a sunken tomato is enough to make my stomach turn. And the smell...oh God, the smell.

So I pulled out of the Chevy dealership like a crazy person. I had to find a dumpster and fast, and I was struggling to stay within 5 miles of the speed limit, but it's hard to race away from the stench--and not speed--when the stench is in the seat behind you.

I ended up driving to the University where I knew I could find an open dumpster and no one would ask questions. Or try to stop me. (I could just see a helpless Walmart employee trying to keep me from using their dumpster. I'm sure the scenario would involve me getting a mug-shot taken and a headline of "Lunatic Assaults Employee with a Rotten Watermelon. Story at 6."

Just recalling how I gathered up the squishy mess with old ranch towels makes me want to run to the bathroom holding my stomach. But I was able to scoop the nastiness up and throw it out, even though the towels made their way into the dumpster along with the rotting red nastiness.

Getting rid of the melon, though, did not get rid of the smell. I was reminded of the Seinfield episode "The Smelly Car." Jerry says, "You don't understand what I'm up against. This is a force more powerful than anything you can imagine. Even Superman would be helpless against this kind of stench."

So I drove home and literally emptied a gallon of odor and stain removal on the carpet where the putrid juice had poured out. Then I went to it with the steam cleaner. I admit the smell was better, but not totally gone. I sprayed the area again with Oxy Carpet Stain Remover and left it soaking with the windows open.

"It's just a watermelon," said Allen.

"It's beyond watermelon," I replied. In fact, I still feel dirty. *shiver*

I can't tell you how happy I am that I have to drive the truck tomorrow. I am trailering Adonis over to Mirka's for a lesson. With any luck, the smell won't still be clinging to me like an entity. But maybe I should warn her, or at least bring her a clothespin for her nose, just in case.

And I think I'll shower a few more times before I go to bed.

Possibly Praising Parelli or Perhaps his Protégée

I have to be honest that my first experience with "Parelli" wasn't great. I started reading his book Natural Horse-Man-Ship not long after I adopted Sky, and I stopped reading after 8 pages.

First, he introduces a program that "comes in 41 words and begins with the letter P." When I started reading "Pat Parelli proudly presents his programs and the proclamation that prior and proper...." I have to say my first thought was, "You've got to be kidding me."

In the next paragraph, Parelli goes on to write:

"I've identified 103 ingredients in Natural Horse-Man-Ship, and these concepts are the basis of this text. I list them in a particular order: 1,2,4,6,8,and 10. Added together, they equal 31. There are two sets of these numbers (1,2,4,6,8,10). 31+31=62. Add the 41 P's. 31+31+41=103."

If I had been Parelli's editor, I would have said, "You really want to put all those P's in there? And the numbers? Really? Cause if I were your reader, those things would make me put the book down."

And they did. I put the book down and I didn't pick it back up. If I heard someone refer to the Parelli method, I immediately thought, "I know what that is...all those P's and numbers."

I didn't give Parelli a second thought after that, not until I met Mirka.

Mirka was trained in the Parelli method when she was a teenager. I have to say, though, that I don't consider her a "Parelli" trainer. She is a "Mirka" trainer. She uses Parelli methods, but she also uses her brain, her heart, and her entire soul when she works with horses. The Parelli method is a foundation for her knowledge base, because it makes sense to her. But she continues to expand her horizons exponentially.

I have always been a big fan of Natural Horsemanship. The book that I picked up after I put Parelli down was written by a man named Mark Rashid. Once I started reading Rashid's books, I couldn't stop. I'd be up at 2am, finishing one of his books and crying my eyes out.

"Isn't that a horse training book?" My husband once asked me, a bit concerned at my display.

"Yee-ssss," I managed to say between sobs.

I actually wrote a letter to Mark after reading all of his books. It was something like 3 pages long. I let my husband read it before I mailed it because, well, he's my best editor.

"You're in love with this guy," Allen said flatly.

"Yeah. I know."

And I was in love with him--in love with all of his principles regarding horses. I still am. I have my fingers crossed that he will include Forever Sky Ranch in his 2011 workshop tour. We're on the list.

(Mirka is the only person I have ever mentioned "Mark Rashid" to who knew what I was talking about. I really like that.)

The list of things I like about Mirka continues to grow. I like that she is straight-forward. She is quick to give praise when praise is warranted, but she doesn't sugar-coat her criticism. I respect that. I like her compassion toward horses, how she strives to earn leadership over her horses out of respect instead of dominance. I suppose when it comes down to it, I feel like I "get" where Mirka is coming from. As a yoga instructor, I understand the power of our body's energy, how you can direct that energy, and how that energy can affect everyone around you. Mirka uses her body's energy to direct her horses' movements. I totally dig that. Better yet, I understand it.

It has never been a secret that one of my big desires is to create an obstacle course at FSR and to someday host Obstacle Playdays or Horse Agility tournaments. Imagine my super excitement to learn that Mirka often hosts such activities. This past Sunday I ventured out to one of Mirka's Horse Agility Tournaments. I went as an observer. (Adonis and I will go together next time.) The ease with which Mirka works with her equine companions is astonishing, and I can say the same for everyone who participated this past Sunday.

The whole experience was so magical that Nikki, another one of the observers (and Rodeo Queen at Tate, I might add), asked, "Does Mirka give lessons to anyone? Or does she only work within her group?"

"No," was my remark. "It's a tight knit circle. She doesn't give lessons to just anyone." The dry humor was apparent in my voice. I've never seen a more open circle, actually. And while Mirka's schedule is tight, she's available to anyone who wants to learn a better way of working with horses.

(I mean, she agreed to give ME lessons, after all!)

I have communicated on Facebook with several of Mirka's "circle" over the last several weeks, but until Sunday I hadn't met anyone. As one of the horses was chasing a cow as part of the exercise, my friend Cheryl said to me, "That's what Forever Sky needs, a cow." Hearing the name "Forever Sky" Kelly turned around and asked in the most pleasant, friendly voice, "Are you Jolee?" Like I said, it's an open, inviting circle.

(I hope you're feeling much much better, Kelly! Can't wait to get to know you better!)

I have to say that finding Mirka has rejuvenated my passion for working with horses. And fairly soon I will start putting up my own agility course at FSR.

For now, though, I am working to complete our awesome cross county course. Alexis and I will be hard at it tomorrow as we finish up working on our interesting and exciting cross-country obstacles.

I was honored to have Mirka and her student Natalie sign up to ride the course. I will be excited to have them at Forever Sky.

And I am excited to be taking lessons with Mirka. I have to say that I never, in my wildest imagination, thought you would find a Parelli Carrot Stick by my saddle. But these days, you can. And I'm even using a rope halter with Adonis! (For those of you aware of my halter fetish, you understand how significant that is.)

But hey...life is about change. Embrace the unknown. And follow your dreams.

I am.

Barn Manager + Power Tools = New Gate

I finished installing our new electric gate today. I was very proud of myself. I had been putting off working on the cursed thing for over two months because, frankly, it intimidated me. I had to hook up a marine battery to a solar panel and then connect them to the gate opener, which I had to install properly on the metal gate. I knew that if I just sat down with the whole mess that I could figure it out. But the instructions, at first glace, looked a bit like Chinese translated to Russian, translated to some African tongue, and then finally translated to English. Some things just didn't make sense.

But I did it. The gate works. Except for the keypad. Apparently the one I purchased doesn't function on the same MHz as the gate opener. "Of course," I thought.

So I still have to get a keypad, but that should be easy enough.

The reason we needed a new gate?

Janine.

Let me take you back a few months. It's early on a Sunday morning. And it's storming. The rain is whipping down in sheets and the wind is gusting. Janine (our barn manager) is trying to GET OUT to make it to church. Alexis (our trainer) is trying to GET IN so she can load up her horse and head to a horse show.

Back up one more day....

"Janine, would you make sure to lock the gate before you go to bed?" I asked. "I saw a strange truck drive up yesterday. Makes me uncomfortable."

"I will," said Janine.

Famous last words.

So it's storming. And Janine can't get the padlock unlocked. (She had the correct key, so who knows what the problem was. Did it rust?) By the time they were working with the bolt cutters trying to get the chain off, Janine and Alexis were soaking wet. You could have wrung them out and they'd still be dripping. The chain was too strong, however. Nothing they attempted worked.

"I need to get in!" screamed Alexis over the pounding of the rain and the cracking thunder.
"I need to get out!" yelled Janine.

They called me about this time, and I jumped in my car to head that way. But I wasn't going to make it in time, not for Janine to make it to church or for Alexis to make it to the horse show.

"Just do what you need to do," I told Janine.

And she did.

She walked back through the pouring rain to the barn and retrieved the battery-powered saw.
I didn't see Janine actually hacking away at the wooden post that held the gate together, but I could envision it as plain as day.

There she was, that determined look in her eyes, wielding a saw. No way was a stupid gate going to keep her from getting to church. No way in hell.

And it didn't.

Alexis never made it to the horse show, however. They cancelled it due to bad weather.

I have to say, I almost miss seeing that poor, ragged, wooden stump hanging from the old metal gate. But I have put so much time into putting up the new gate that from now on I think I might just hide the power tools.