The Taskmaster is repossessing her baucher, the bit I've been riding Banana in. I therefore needed to go into my small pile and pull something out for her. I grabbed the myler comfort snaffle, as it's different than everything else we've had her in. Either she really, really likes it or I finally figured out how to ride my horse. She isn't rooting and is more accepting of contact. I've been having a lot of fun with her the last couple of rides. We've jumped small logs out in the field and over the ditches. She even jumped over the ditch today by herself to come see me. We jumped our first 2' fence on Saturday and our first tiny oxer today. She was completely steady when Penny and Sonny ran up to us the other day and were cavorting around her butt.
I am absolutely sure bringing her home was the right thing. We're really bonding. It's fun to be out with her in the evenings fussing (Penny was not tolerant of fussing.) She still walks very quickly, but I'm okay with it now as I know it doesn't mean she's going to take off, she just walks fast. We've been down the road with my favorite neighbor and her mules (who are in love with her.) She's a little silly until we meet up with them, but once with them I can ride her on the buckle.
She still needs crap loads of training, but I think we can probably safely get around an event at pre-comp this summer.
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 Unpublished, but a writer just the same.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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