So, time has passed.
Rather a lot of it, actually. But let us quietly draw the curtain on my less-than-stellar blogging record and proceed as if I wrote only last week.
A lot has transpired since…last week….the usual rollercoaster of Life With Buzz, interspersed with the usual rollercoaster of Life In General.
Winter has knocked the stuffing out of us, several times. Between extreme cold (of the Polar Vortex variety) followed by extreme mildness (of the serial ice storm variety) and several doses of ‘flu and ‘flu-like illnesses, our riding and training plans have been thwarted repeatedly.
And then there was that wobble, recently, where I thought I was going to have to give my boy up. The irony of the whole thing wasn’t lost on me — I mean, how many times have I written angsty journal entries about not thinking I should keep him and selling him is obviously ‘for the best’ ?!? Not to mention the more-than-one occasion that I’ve had to be talked off that ledge by someone who clearly knows better than me — but when it actually comes down to it actually-possibly being a reality, I find myself in a blubbering heap on the floor.
Enough of that nonsense. I told him once that we’d be together for always. I didn’t entirely believe it at the time, but now I know it’s true.
Whatever work I have to do to convince myself of my worthiness or deserving-ness of good and lovely things (like Buzz) will be dedicated and ongoing and punishing myself with thoughts of giving him up is strictly forbidden. The psychology of it all is complex and far-reaching, suffice it to say, it’s a story that’s deeply woven into my psyche and I feel like Buzz, in his role as my Yoda, is only helping me to untangle it all. He’s just brilliant like that.
Also, he dances*.
It’s almost exactly one month until the date of our first proposed outing. (March 16th) Which is to say, show. It’s a little jumper schooling show. The littleness and schoolingness of it not making the idea any less terrifying.
But also exciting.
But also terrifying.
So we’d best get our butts in gear. I’m a fat bastard** and so is he. Our work this winter has been focused mostly on foot work, improving his canter rhythm (okay, actually having a rhythm in the first place) and getting him using his brain-powers for good — turns out there’s a lot of thinking that goes into jumping properly, rather than just hurling himself enthusiastically at everything, as has been our strategy thus far. So while we’re greatly improved in the finesse department, maintaining the level of finesse required to elegantly complete a course of fences, as opposed to collection of raised poles, could be a bit of a sticking point.
But we’ve got a whole month.
How hard can it be?
* turns out this display of aggravation is due to facing the ‘wrong’ way in the cross-ties. It seems he doesn’t like to point this way. His stall was being cleaned so we were trying to stay out of the way of the wheelbarrow. To say I’m a creature of habit would be a great understatement. So, apparently, is he.
** racetrack euphemism for being unfit. Not usually a commentary on actual body weight. Although, it is winter and I do love me a big plate of carbs.