Wild woman

My first riding lesson with Caroline

 I was a small kid that didn't do well in school. My parents agreed to hold me back in first grade under the guidance of Lisa Sherman my first grade teacher. Little did these adults know that this would pretty much destroy all of my confidence and set me up for another five years of constant ridicule and endless questions of "Why do you have the same teacher again, are you dumb?" I was now the older child in my classroom which gave me a one up to be the toughest, fastest, strongest most athletic kid which allowed me thankfully to be able to stick up for myself. Yet I was still the dumbest one in the class next to Geoffrey BeeBee who couldn't tie his shoes and was called "bubble butt" and was hated by my third grade teacher. She was a horrible woman and I think Geoffrey might have needed to be in special ed. 

Looking back on it... I wasn't dumb. I was bright... my teachers always had a fondness for me, or maybe they just felt sorry for me? I will never know. What I really needed was extra attention and someone to teach me differently than how I was being taught. I needed visual aids, and lot's of repetition. I needed someone to hold my hand through math problems and ask me questions like, Does 1 + 1 = 5? Think about this one... I did everything way too fast. My first grade teacher took tape and put it on my seat, and made me sit on it... because I kept getting up with the wrong answers. She would always tell me to just "slow down and think."

"Slow down and think" followed me everywhere.

My mom took me to our local Stable. Ashford Farm in Miquon, Pennsylvania when I was eight. She thought it would help my confidence to control a large animal.

She also put me in Gymnastics, Ice Skating, and Tennis. Nothing like a few backflips on my face,  a few bent rackets and some blisters on my feat to know that this was not for me.

The Riding stuck though. I had one instructor... Betsy Tyler that I liked very much. She would scream at me over the hoof beats of my galloping out of control pony that I was a "crazy wild woman" and to slow my pony down. I loved it. Nothing like flying over fences or getting a stubborn "Diamond Jim" pony to go into the corners of the ring when he really just wanted to follow all the other horses through the middle.

For one hour every Sunday I was not stupid. I was getting something done. I was training the most stubborn ponies in the barn to listen to what I wanted and not to take advantage of me. Sometimes they didn't want to go over the jump and would come to a skidding halt... my first real lesson was that this was not the horses fault. It was my fault. I did something wrong and it was up to me to figure it out, and as a team we would fly over the rails.

This taught me at an early age to stop blaming everyone else for my mistakes. To this day I am quick to blame myself before others.

Later on as I graduated to over night camp in Virginia. It was day in, day out, horses. I learned fast that taking care of horses isn't just riding and looking pretty. Someone needs to feed them, clean them, and care for them. I think I started at New Meadow Farm when I was 11. An awkward age, seeing as my parents just separated. I was an angry little monster... and now I was shoveling horse crap on a farm very far away from my mom. I was not as horse crazy as I thought.

Now I look back and would have died and gone to heaven to play horse all day... but not then... I just wanted my mom.

Can you blame me for missing my mom? She was my only comfort.

It was hard work, and I always tried to be the first one done... with sloppy work my counselors noticed. "Your not done yet, there is still dirt all over his neck", or "I can tell you didn't Lexol that saddle", or "this stall still has a lot of pee in it". Jane was a saint of a person for putting up with me.

After art school I came back to Ashford and worked there in the winter months. It didn't take much to get yelled at by Caroline (the owner)... she would call me a "slacker" which was the ultimate insult. I didn't scrub the buckets well enough, I wasn't moving horses fast enough, I was always the last one done mucking stalls, I had unorthodox way's of cleaning the barn and was told that "you just don't think!"and then I got sick from the dust and ammonia and was kicked by the horses numerous times in the leg from being careless.... I wasn't cut out for this. So what do you do when you suck at something? Go for the Grand Prix... the biggest of the best.

I got a job in Connecticut with a Grand Prix dressage lady. Caroline couldn't wait to get rid of me and gave me an outstanding recommendation. I got the job. I drove to this ladies mansion and with in seconds of seeing this place I knew I was in big trouble.

First off her horses were in her house. There were 12 stalls attached to her mansion with a fully loaded apartment upstairs. She vacuumed the aisles, and she used a fresh bag of ceder chips for every stall- every day. It was spotless and did not smell of horses. Her horses were turned out for one hour a day  and were not to "run" in their paddocks. I was to sit and watch them and stop them if they got too crazy... my first question was "How do you stop a horse that is running?" She hated me, I hated her. She couldn't have them twist an ankle after all... cause then they would be nothing to her. She had video cameras everywhere and would sit in her kitchen and watch me take care of her very badly behaved angry monster horses that would sit and kick at their stall doors while weaving their heads back and forth like mental patients. Her horses were miserable, gorgeous, extremely athletic... and controlled. I felt bad for them, this was no Ashford Farm where the horses were as happy as the kids riding them.

I lasted three days. The bitch of a woman came in and told me I was done because her pony bit me and I yanked on his halter and told him to "knock it off!". You can't have horses walk all over you. They need discipline. I happily told her that I was happy to go, thank you for you time, and drove home with no pay and no money to get home. I had to beg the toll guy to let me over the George Washington Bridge because I had no money to pay him. He didn't argue, he could see my red eyes full of tears. I was desperate.

I waited a week... before I called Ashford. Caroline quietly said that she would never give me a recommendation again. Julie Sollomon had called her to tell her that I was one of the worst people that she had ever employed. That evil horrible woman had ended my horse career without even knowing me or how much I loved horses. Caroline was rightfully embarrassed. I couldn't defend myself. It had gone horribly wrong, I was way in over my head. I knew nothing about Grand Prix Dressage. It was terrible and had caused a great amount of pain and ruined yet another piece of my dignity and self esteem.

I have dreams at least once a week about Ashford... As a child I always looked up to Caroline and I always wanted her approval... but I disapointed her and this makes me feel sick inside. She was my key to the horse world... and now it is gone. This was way worse then being called stupid, or having rocks thrown at your face. This shattered my world. No amount of therapy has fixed it. It still haunts me to this day. I took a chance, and it went wrong. Now the only thing I can do is get some horses of my own. This won't stop me... it never did. I learned a great lesson. Will it stop me from taking another chance at something... certainly NOT!.

Anyway, this isn't the first story you will hear from me about utter failure. My mom once said after my tenth attempt of stupidity.. "why do you keep setting yourself up for failure?" She said this before I was about to enter myself into a swim suit competition. I have no boobs, and a boys body... I came in last place... she knew this was a dumb idea... why didn't I?  I am full of stories like this one. But how will you learn?. Life is a pony, if they dont want to jump... its your fault. "Get over it" , literally and mentally.

This is from a video of my riding... I like mid-air shots. 

This was my first time on a horse with my Aunt Leelia. which is a whole other story all together. 

My first horse show on "Lily" age 9.

Me at camp age 11 with "Leonard". 

camp a few years later with "Badger" I loved this little pony. Notice how clean my tack is. 

I loved to canter... I literally was thinking I was a "wild woman"

My first horse lease. "Pippin" . The holes are from being placed in my binder at school... I loved this horse more than McDonalds. And that says a lot. I still name everything "Pippin" R.I.P old buddy.