Today I got to try out a 3 year old Oldenburg filly that belongs to one of the Taskmaster's other students.
I could be in love.
She's young, obviously, but her natural self-carriage makes her miles ahead of Penny already. She's still uncertain about things, but already accepts contact. I didn't have a problem following with my arms at the walk, something I struggle with on Penny because her body doesn't move mine enough.
She's absolutely sweet and very well bred. She's Meatball's niece and when I got her into a forward trot it felt like riding Meatball on a smaller scale. She's just barely 15.1, she'll probably grow an inch or two, to make her the perfect height for me. I, of course, like the ponies, but I really should be riding something a little bigger.
Conformation wise she's a bit calf kneed, but is otherwise good. Now, I just have to convince the husband she's worth her price tag. The Taskmaster firmly feels that after Penny I deserve a nice horse. Yeah, Penny has her points, but she's "not a team player" and that it isn't fair to me, who works so hard, to have her basically make me look bad in public. I agree. I'm also going to ride Banana this week, to see what I think of her as a potential horse for me. For whatever reason that mare is completely attached to me and all I did was lunge her once. She's also much cheaper and at 6/7 she's ready to go when the filly needs a little growing up time still.
A Note About This Blog
I used to be a writer. Unpublished, but a writer just the same. I have several 100,000 word novels sitting on my hard drive. Then I fell off a horse and got a concussion that scrambled my brains really good (yes, I was wearing a helmet.) After that forming a written sentence was very difficult for quite some time. It's still difficult, but at least now generally the sentence structure isn't egregiously flawed. Verbally and written wrong words pop in, I switch words around, and sometimes I make no sense at all. It isn't because I don't have knowledge of grammar and punctuation, but my brain simply can't do it sometimes. Reading this blog you're accepting that there's going to be things that look like typos or make no sense. It's not because I don't proofread, it's because my damaged brain doesn't see what's wrong. I try my best, but things will slip through. I don't need them pointed out, I know they're there, but if I continued to worry about them I wouldn't write at all. I didn't for quite some time. It's painful as a past master of words to use them so badly, but fortunately the words don't seem to mind.
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