Dear Fellow BarnMiceans:

I am both happy and excited to have an opportunity to blog here on Barnmice.com. As you may or may not know I’ve been hosting my own blog on my newly created website DressageForTheRestOfUs.com.

Here I’ll be writing mostly original essays not found on my blog, though I see no harm in sharing between the two if some essay I write gets a large positive reaction in either place, but I’ll probably toss it in as an “extra”.

However, for the most part, the only similarities you’ll see are the occasional references between the two.

I am an amateur and I write essays about issues regarding amateurs and their beloved horses. Although I dwell in the land of the dressage, many of my topics are unilateral and apply to all horse owners no matter the discipline.

So basically I make fun of everybody.

You’ll find that I do not disclose my identity, though there are many who know who I am. I do this because I tell true stories about real people and because I keep my anonymity I can better preserve THEIR anonymity. You see it’s not the people’s names that are of importance and I am not here for sour grapes.

But I AM here to tell true stories, with true scenarios. Those scenarios I’ll present to you in order to teach fellow amateurs some of the things they might one day also encounter in the horse world.

In my blog I speak of educating my fellow ammies, and there are those who would fault me for thinking I could. (“Who is she, she’s no trainer!!!”)

However, they misinterpret my intent. I have no desire to teach anyone how to piaffe, but I will bring forth my own learning journey and things that I have learned unique to my situation and my horse. I will speak of things I know in terms of “you must” because that is how my self-speak speaks to me.

I would also add that I’ve had a lot of very active years in the horse world and have an abundance of real world experiences (just like many of you) and it is my desire is to share them with you, so that you too might benefit from such experience and knowledge if you haven’t yet experienced them yourself.

Most of my stories are twinged with my odd sense of humor which I am apologizing for in advance. Once in a while I do cover topics of a more solemn nature. No worries though, because after one of those doozies I tend to get very silly!

But most of the time I see the equestrian world in a lighter manner and I hope you enjoy reading what I have to say, sarcasm and all. Most of all, I hope you identify with it and see your own story within mine. I have no doubt that many of my own experiences are unilateral throughout the horse world and so you’ll be able to identify with them.

It is my intention to write for you on a weekly basis and I pray I do not let you down and that I never, ever bore you.

Sincerely,

Dressage For The Rest Of Us

Maker Of Fine Quality Blogging

Since yesterday

A sample piece from my blog: (Just so you know what you’re in for)

Beware The Pasture Gnome

I have come to believe that there is an invisible vortex in every pasture my horse inhabits. It's a gateway to another dimension which comes and goes mysteriously. When its portal opens it will suck up a horse, simultaneously stopping time for a moment. After annihilating whatever the horse is wearing the horse passes back through the portal, none the worse for wear.

This other dimension is filled with single bell boots, twisted shoes, bits of halter leather, and the tattered shreds of what once was a sheet or blanket. Just like some people attract paranormal activity my horse attracts this pasture vortex.

There is no escape from the vortex. Resistance is futile.

It was Christmas Eve and I had just presented my horse with his treasured gift. It was a new winter blanket colored in bright pink and blue plaid. It was beautiful. I recall lovingly placing the blanket upon him and smoothing it gently as I admired the hot colors. Surely this was the prettiest blanket I had ever seen.

I kissed his forehead and put him back in the stall with a nice pile of fresh hay. The next day was Christmas so the horses would stay in and not be turned out until the day after. The morning after Christmas was cool and breezy and the horses were especially fresh when they were finally turned out.

It was that morning that a vortex struck.

A few hours later we heard a commotion in the pasture and went to look. The scene was one that I had never before seen nor dreamed of seeing. The thirty acre pasture had somehow managed to have white polyfill fluffs dispersed everywhere as if it there had been a winter’s polyfill snow. As it blew around in the breeze the horses were having great fun, like children after the snowstorm. There were horses with white polyfill tipped ears and noses. One big piece was being chased by an Arab gelding whose tail flagged to its snorts. Others had it entwined in their manes or tails and seemed content to look silly. There was so much polyfill it looked as if it had managed to reproduce.

In the center of it all was my bay Thoroughbred trotting the trot that I dreamed of one day getting under saddle. Dragged behind him was a tattered trail of fabric, some bright pink and blue plaid, some white polyfill. Yet more was of indistinguishable color. It formed a surprisingly long tail and reminded me of the movie Independence Day, when Will Smith’s character came in dragging the alien tangled in his parachute.

There was so much it would have been impossible to travel the thirty acres and collect all the polyfill. It turned out to be no problem as by the next morning, the vortex had struck once again and taken all of it away. Not a single fluff could be found.

I have since acquiesced to the fact that my horse is a divining rod who attracts the vortex and I have resigned myself to constantly having to replace items. I always buy the same color gummy bell boots so I don’t have to worry about pairs not matching. I use nothing but leather halters. Whether it is a fly sheet, regular sheet or blanket, I know I must buy multiples, and I’ve already told stories about all those missing “chuze”.

I have found out one secret though. The very expensive blankets must have some sort of minor force field as they seem to fight off the vortex for a little bit longer.

The bright side is nothing lasts long enough to get dirty so I don’t really have to worry about washing blankets. The vortex sees to that.

Somewhere in the vortex lives a little pasture gnome with a bell boot hat, tattered leather clothes and white polyfill hair who sits on a twisted horse shoe throne.