Dismal.

I am so discouraged. 

On Saturday, I recruited my husband to dispense carrots to Willow while I got on- she’s decided that she needs to just do a drive by of the block now- so that she would get the idea to stand still. After the tragedy that was Friday, I needed some serious decompression in the form of barn time. 

I was, instead, met with Willow’s backside when I opened the stall door. *sigh* After a quick negotiation, I was able to catch and tie her. I pulled her blanket off. More ear pinning. *sigh*  I ignored it and began to tack her up. I put her saddle on, as I always do, secured my girth on the first hole. Willow threw her head up and shot backwards. *sigh* I pulled her forward, and finished tacking up. I got myself ready to go, then went in to put her bridle on. As soon as I took her halter off, she tried to spin away with her head straight up in the air. *sigh* I waited her out and while I was trying to get her to accept her bit, she struck out and nailed me right in the leg. Ow. 

We did, eventually get tacked up. I was determined not to let her spoiled antics get to me, not to make me angry, or to get her out of work. My goal for the day was simply to get on. Stand. Stuff her face full of carrots. Get off. Go home. That’s all. 

Ha-freaking-ha. 

I had to chase her all over the arena to tighten her girth, and she bit my shoulder. *sigh*

Arm Mike with carrots and position him at her head with directions not to touch anything, just to shovel carrots as fast as he could, and not stop. (My first mistake). Put foot in iron. Begin to swing leg over. 

Oh. Fuck. 

Willow does the boot scoot n’ boogie right past Mike (who listened and didn’t touch anything… *sigh*) and takes off bucking. Bitch. I am thinking the ponies of my past for my sticky seat as she’s now showing off a beautiful lengthening down the long side. I ditch my one iron, and attempt a pully rein. HA. Willow tucks her head to her chest and blows right through it. 

Mike’s eyes are rather huge, and he’s jumped out of the arena (thanks babe). More pully rein (which is being ignored). Still bucking around  the arena. I am attempting to give and take. Nope. Nothing. 

So here I am. Zooming around the arena. No breaks. No steering. It’s AWESOME. 

I finally manage to get her into a corner where she stops. I attempt to regain my irons. She begins leaping into the air, rodeo bronc style. I thank ponies of the past again. I finally get her head from between her knees and I bail between bucks. 

I know. It’s horrible, but I’m no good to my family broken. 

Willow is still ripping around me in a circle. I ask Mike to get my lunge line. I lunged that mare until *I* wasn’t angry anymore. Then I lunged her some more. And then I lunged her for 5 more minutes for good measure. 

Then we did some in hand stuff. Then faced the mounting block again. Fire Mike, who is standing on the rail. Still wide eyed. 

Much hysteria. More lunging. *sigh* 

Mounting block. I treat her like a baby horse. Pat the saddle. Lean over her. Jiggle irons. Less hysteria. I put my foot in the iron. She swings her butt out. 

More lunging. 

Back to the block. Start over. Put foot in iron and bounce up and down a few times. She stands. GOOOOOOD GIIIIRRRRLLLLL!!!!!! 

Done. 

I sob all the way home. 

 

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