That Crazy Horse Girl

Sadly, Addy is a little off in her right hind, so we did not have a lesson yesterday. We think it was a combination of pulling a shoe, getting said shoe put back on, showing the new mares in the herd who’s boss, and playing in the mud with her best buddy. She’s getting some bute and some time off and she’ll be right as rain in no time! In the meantime, here’s another angle of what went down last weekend.


Poor manfriend.

He didn’t see this coming. He had absolutely no idea.

He was just trying to be supportive and encourage me to pursue my passion. It was all so innocent. When we met, I wasn’t even riding- he just knew that I had in the past and that I liked ponies. But what girl doesn’t?

He had no idea.

He even encouraged me to find a trainer, came for lessons once I found a barn, and listened to me gush about my “homework” rides. He patiently nodded along as I avowed that Addy has to be the cutest horse in the world, and let me explain in excruciating detail exactly why she was better than every single other horse in the country. All of this was endured with good cheer and understanding (he has his own encompassing hobby, so he gets it).

But then he came to a horse show, and he saw me in all my glory: 11 full hours of non-stop horse talk.

He saw me sweet-talk my girl onto the trailer at 7am. He heard me baby-talk at her after she was SO good in the warmup ring at 8am. He was strong-armed into kissing her nose because don’t you even realize how soft it is?! at 9am. He watched with wide eyes as I cooed and babbled and adored my pretty pony all day long. And then he dragged his feet into the barn when we returned home so I could wipe down tack and groom Addy with special attention to her itchy spots. Was he done? Nope. I spent the remaining hours until bedtime repeating just how proud of my girl I was and dissecting every step of our courses that day.

That’s when he turned to me in the car and revealed to me: he knew that horse-crazy girls existed, but never thought that he would be romantically involved with someone that clearly insane. He had absolutely no idea that he would end up with The Crazy Horse Girl.

You know the one- there’s one in every high school class. If you’re reading this, take a good hard look at yourself, because it was probably you. We were the ones covered in horse hair no matter how clean we tried to get our clothes. The ones who could never hang out after school because we were going to work at the barn/ride our horse/watch someone else ride/stand next to a pony/can I please give him a treat? Who protested every weekend family trip because Mooooom I have a horse show that weekend!

I am The Crazy Horse Girl, but all grown up (The Crazy Horse Lady?). And manfriend has just figured this out after a solid year together.

There will be more that he’ll figure out: he’s going to figure out that so many weekends will be spent with him acting as a saddle rack, hitching post, videographer, cheerleader, bucket-fetcher, mounting block, and boot-wiper. That yes, we have to be at the barn before the sun, and no, we will not be taking a break until my classes are over. That not only is all this hoopla and expense voluntary, but it gives me such immense joy that it bubbles over into the rest of my life.

So when he turned to me in the car and so solemnly pronounced me The Crazy Horse Girl and announced that he did not see foresee this, I had a moment of worry. He has just been blindsided into being The Horse Show Boyfriend- no easy task.

I sheepishly looked up at him and asked, “If you had known that encouraging me to start riding again would lead to this, would you still have done it?” I was genuinely curious- he thought he was giving me a little push back to a hobby I enjoyed, not tipping me back into this consuming passion.

But he looked back over at me with an incredulous face, and replied with a tender, “Of course, idiot.”

He didn’t even flinch much when I mentioned how excited I am for the next show.