Oops.

It was my day off today. So I went to visit a Theological Library in Brisbane to find some resources for my exegetical assignment. Of course. That's what everybody does with their day off!

I took Mum with me and dropped her off at Indooroopilly on the way through. It was almost a case of slow down and push her out, because we didn't get a red light to let her out!

Having got all the stuff I'd gone down for, I headed back to meet Mum for lunch and Pearl Tea in the Food Court. I laughed at myself when I found a park "where I always park" when I haven't lived in Brisbane for 12 years.

Mum had found some things that she wanted to show me. I collect tiny horses, and generally Mum and Dad keep an eye out for ones with character when they are overseas.

These two just HAD to come home with me...
So meet Jade and Rosalie.

The chance you can pick which is which?

Remember This Time Last Year?

This weekend we're heading to the Coast for Giggles' birthday party.



She is three.



The chance that I'm sad about BUYING a present this year?



... Approximately None!

Breakfast

I've said before that I'm Not a Morning Person.

I'm really not.

And why do I find it necessary to defend this position? Well that's another psychological track entirely, and I'm not going there today.

One of the manisfestations of my NaMP status is that breakfast can be a bit of an ordeal. I don't decide easily at an early hour, so it needs to be quick to prepare and all the relevant bits need to be easily procurable and either store for a long time, or be something we usually have in the house.

I will usually have exactly the same thing for a couple of months (lets say toast) and then one day I will wake up and simply not be able to tolerate the thought of toast for breakfast. The smell of toast toasting will turn my stomach. The very thought of toast is repugnant to me (and yes, I have been reading both Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer recently, in case you're wondering).

Then I need to come up with a new idea in a short period of time because I've got to get out and doing for the day, and my higher executive powers don't wake up as early as I have to be vertical, and my Mum always told me that breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I can't skip it, and my life is a mess of stress for the morning.

I've recently been on a healthy Vita-Brits-are-whole-grain-no-sugar-isn't-that-healthy? kick. Add a little fruit in natural juice and some milk and I've got to be doing something good for my body. Haven't I?

I've been jokingly calling it 'chaff' and have realised that, while cleaning my teeth after breaky is usually pleasant and to be desired, the consumption of chaff means that it is absolutely imperative IMMEDIATELY because otherwise I find bits of chaff all around my teeth and I don't like that.

But the writing is on the wall for chaff for breakfast, because my half-awake brain this morning recognised that, actually, horsefood tastes better than Vita Brits. Yep, when I was in primary school we used to nibble on the working horse mix, and my memory is telling me that it tasted better than my breakfast (at least, it did if you got a bit with molasses in it).

So how much breakfast am I likely to have tomorrow?

... approximately none (but don't tell Mum).

Back from our Weekend Away

Had a wonderful weekend. Giggles is so cute and very verbal for her age. Also really determined in anything that she wants to do. Uncle Beloved (who actually gets "Aunty Beloved") was dragged around by the hand for a while at the park to help her do things. Until she was finished with him, when she waddled off to something else. Adorable.

After the party we went back to the house to put Troy together while Giggles had a sleep (he'd had to travel in two separate cars). Once he was operational all the adults were impatient for her to wake up. One of Giggles' other aunties got to have a ride to check that all was okay, due to the fact that she is very slim and tall enough to get on without unnecessary transverse pressure.

Giggles was still a bit sleepy when she finally got to see what was under the doona, and stood transfixed for a while. She was put up onto him and the boys rocked her for a bit, but when they stopped, she got him rocking herself.

She has an amazing seat and pretty good hands for someone who is only two and has only had a couple of pony rides before. I'm seriously impressed!

Still negotiating with her parents about posting a photo of a grinning Giggles having a ride. We'll have to see.

Later, she was playing with other presents and had a toy brush. She went and brushed Troy's tail. Cute. Then she gave her plastic toy llama a ride. That was so sweet I could have eaten her all up.

All the boys (the various uncles) kept on asking my Beloved about the project and complimenting him on the job. He was very good at explaining that I'd done the carving, staining and painting. I was starting to get a bit peeved (although he had done a fantastic job of the laminating, sawing and all the joints required).

Will we be going into rocking horse production any time soon?

... I don't think so.

Chance that we are not relieved that this project is finished?

... Approximately None!

Wild Thing!

Got to go and take the dog to his great-grandparents', ice my slice and pack the car.

But I thought you might be interested.


Anyone have curling tongs so that I can bend his hair down?

The chance that there won't be better photos after the weekend?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 8

Nearly there.

Troy has had his second of three top coats of paint today. Tomorrow he will get the last.

He now has the rods bent and in through the rails between his feet. Bit of a hicup with the way we were planning to attach the rods to the stand, though. Worked really well (he was rocking beautifully) until the point where weight was applied to Troy, when the attachy thingies entirely gave way, leaving a bit of a divot in the top of the stand.

My Beloved believes that he has solved this problem. I hope so. I'm not certain when we'll get the opportunity to test it out prior to Saturday due to needing to let the paint dry. It's probably okay, Giggles weighs a lot less than me.

I finished the saddle today. The webbing for stirrup leathers and girth had to be singed so that it wouldn't fray. My wonderful Dad bung a nail into his soldering iron for me so that I could do this to all the holes and cut edges. My wonderful Mum had some serious press-studs that help keep the saddle's 'ears' down over where the stirrups attach.

It has a few wobbly spots up close, but it does really look like a saddle. And any equestrians please note that I have run the stirrups up the leathers properly. Attention to detail is my motto. No slack habits in this household!


So that leaves me with the saddle cloth; glueing of mane, tail and forelock; and one final coat of paint. My Beloved has to paint up the new attachy thingies, and put the four screws that hold the saddle into poor Troy's belly.

Then we have a little engraved plaque to attach. I got it done at a local jeweller's and it has Giggles' name, her birthdate, the fact that it is from Grandma, Grandad, Uncle Beloved and Aunty Jenny and that Uncle Beloved and Aunty Jenny made it for her with much love (I thought that "with love" was better than "with blood, sweat, tears, unbelievably disgusting smells and an occasional word that we wouldn't be allowed to use in front of you". It wouldn't have fit on the plaque, and would have cost a packet on a per character engraving basis).

Tomorrow. The last day for work. It is possible.

How much am I going to miss this project?

... You got that right!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 7

The mega-project is still on-going and we are leaving for the coast on Friday for Giggles' birthday party on Saturday.

It is still looking possible that we will be finished on time, but the timeframes are getting quite tight. So many little bits of projects that will hopefully all come together in the next few days.

It was a big weekend.

Saddlery the easy way?

Oh, for goodness sake just take it to a saddler! Who wants to be fiddling around with this the weekend before? It's nearly finished now, just a few finishing touches before I can show you the final product.

While I was upstairs doing that, my Beloved was downstairs doing this:-

Boxy, but beautiful (hey, wasn't that a Volvo advertisement some years ago?).

Finally, a whole horse!

Then there was lots of sanding and carving and we killed the little Ozito sanding machine. It sparked, then died. Troy, you were just too much for a little sanding machine.

I do know, though, that Troy can take my whole weight. It would be interesting to have a visual record of some of the positions I've needed to get at different bits of this timber horse for sanding or carving or painting. Today's post could have been entitled "Musings from beneath a timber horse". But I decided that the world did not need to see a record of the inane things I think about when I'm staining timber.

After today's staining and first top coat efforts. Thanks for the help, Mum.

He came up shiny and luminous and gorgeous.

Tomorrow he is off to get the swinging rods put on, followed by a second coat of paint.

How many coats of paint do I want to have to put on on Friday?

... Approximately None!

(But I'm likely to be glueing in his mane, tail, and forelock)

A Horse for Giggles: Part 6

The deadline is looming. We've been madly using every spare minute to get Troy finished. We go to the coast in 9 days' time.

I'm just hoping the final coat of paint will be dry.

And it doesn't feel like we're getting very far. So many things need working out or drying time or we need to do something else first.

Thank goodness for the Queen's Birthday Holiday next Monday.

I can prove that I've been doing things, though -

Jen, remember that you have disposable gloves in the cupboard.

Of course, there was another job where it would have been really good to remember that I had disposable gloves in the cupboard. Remember these? -

Now, if the average person has to wash their hands six times in scented soap to get rid of the smell, how often does an average person have to wash the hair to get rid of the smell?

I can't actually remember. Lots.

To get the last of the chaff out of them I had to condition them, comb them thoroughly, let them dry and then comb them again. Then check to see if they passed the sniff test. Any last remaining little specks were then considered to be 'clean dirt' due to the number of times they'd been soaped, rinsed, conditioned and brushed at.

Here's one batch hanging up to dry on the laundry spout. I think I only have six paper clips left that haven't been bent into hooks to hang up hair to dry. Good thing I work from home, or I wouldn't have had enough.

I didn't have enough rubber bands, but Dad works from home too, so we got by.

Dad, do you want your rubber bands back when I've finished with them?

Why ever not?

This was one of the longest of the tails. You would never have guessed that it was this colour when it came in.

Of course, it isn't that colour anymore. I got at it with the hair dye.

I made certain it was a dye that covers gray.

It did.

Here is all my hair lined up. The big pile in the foreground are the longest and thickest ones that are designated as 'tail'. The next ones back are designated 'forelock', and the others are lined up longest to shortest for the mane.

(Is it freaky that I still have the original box for my sewing machine, which was new back in 1985? It's my Mother's fault - it started off as hers and she kept the box because we lived out west and it had to be shipped in for servicing. Of course, I've had the machine now for about 10 years and have no such excuse.)

I stitched the tails to cotton tape.

I didn't use them all.

I really regret the fact that I de-clodified more tails than I needed.

And washed more tails than I needed.

And conditioned and brushed more tails than I needed.

And dyed more tails than I needed.

There is no way I'm throwing them out.

I'm still experimenting with options for glueing the ends in so that the individual hairs can't be pulled out. Silicone didn't quite cut it. We'll see how an actual glue goes, but I want something that will stay flexible enough to be inserted into a slit in Troy's neck.

I am running out of time to conduct clinical trials on different products.

Chance that I'm going to let this deadline beat me?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 5 or so

Okay, so I've done a dumb thing. I've forgotten that Blogger uploads photos in the reverse order to the way they were selected. And it won't let me change them. *Sigh*

So here is the whole point of this post, which I was going to save for last. Isn't it the cutest thing you have ever seen?


Yes, Troy is still headless, which does make it easier to take him to Mum and Dad's because my sewing machine is playing up and I needed to fit the bridle to make certain it was going to work.

I think it is even cuter when it is hanging about. It makes a jangly sound just like a real bridle, but doesn't smell as good because I've used vinyl, not leather. I'm so proud of me for getting the bridle made in a way that means it can be taken off and put on. A wooden horse's ears don't squish down to allow this to happen without some jiggery-pokery. But it works!

My Beloved managed to bend the ends of the wire around the rings to make the bit. Spectacular!

These are the saddle bits waiting for Troy's body to be finished, so that I can fit everything as I go. I had so much fun in the saddlery, picking out the bits I needed.

Then I had to pay for them.

So how much work did I achieve this afternoon?

... Approximately None.

A Horse for Giggles: Part 4

There are reasons that I haven't been blogging.

I've been trying to get some work done and eliminate stuff of the whiteboard that sits at my right hand. Getting there. Very slowly.

Yesterday was a crazy-busy day.

On Sunday we went to Brisbane to celebrate the dedication of friends' fourth child. Lovely occasion, and good to catch up with them, their friends and relations.

But the biggest reason that I haven't been blogging has been Troy. I spent Saturday sanding. To the point that by the end of Saturday I could no longer focus my eyes (I have a convergence problem that is worse when I'm tired) and tripped up the stairs, nearly sending Troy's almost finished head crashing to the floor ears first. Which would have been a disaster because I'm fairly certain the ears would have snapped off.


My Beloved bought me a present:-



Yes, I am working at a desk made up of a shelf on top on a drum, but this is about the little ozito sander that is wonderful. It has made the sanding go a heap faster, because it can get into most of the little nooks and crannies that the belt sander couldn't. It doesn't leave flat patches, either.

My Beloved spent most of his day making this happen:-

At least he had something to show for his day's work. It now "only" needs sanding - my job, if I have time (but won't it be so much easier now?).

Then we have an oh-so-close-to-finished head. A little more work to do by hand between his ears and under his chin before he can be attached to an as-yet-unconstructed body (although the boards have been cut):-

He really doesn't look much better in this photo than the last one I posted. But there's hours and hours of sanding work happened between now and then. You'll just have to take my word for it that he looks better. He's much smoother. Believe me.

You remember these legs?

Is there much difference between what they looked like before and now that they have been shaped and sanded?

Again, you are going to have to take my word for it. They now have a little shape around the knees and fetlocks. They just need checking out and attaching to the body:-

I've asked the butcher about getting cow tail hair (probably more likely steer tails, come to think of it), he'll get back to me, but doesn't see a problem as they usually only incinerate the bits that they can't use. He'll even see if they can get the longer ones, if possible. I love having a real butcher that actually have their own abattoir and know me, so they'll actually listen to my odd requests.

So for now, after yet another Troy-related post, let's hope that I am boring you all...

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 3

There is dust over everything in the garage, including the car.

This is because I've been using machinery. Sanding-type machinery.

And when I haven't been using machinery, I've been sanding by hand the bits that are too fiddly to get at with anything mechanical.

I've realised that I hugely understated the case in my last Troy-related post when I mentioned that his head was finished, apart from "only the sanding to go".

I've now basically shaped the legs (with a belt sander so there won't be as much sanding required. I hope.) and have about half the head sanding done. The difference that is shown in photos between what these look like now and the last lot of photos posted is approximately none, so I haven't included any just yet.

Meanwhile my Beloved has been working on the stand that Troy will swing from. So far we have:-

The bit that sits on the floor and the bit that Troy will swing from.


Miscellaneous rails and bits that will join and reinforce the two bits in the photo above, as well as the rails that will be joined to Troy's legs and will be connected to the swinging rods.


And yesterday my one indulgence with respect to the fit-out arrived. I managed to track down a source for rockinghorse stirrups. Aren't they the cutest little darling things? My Beloved's size 11 boots make them look ridiculously tiny!

And I was given a hint by the lady at the Post Office when I went to collect the stirrups that if I go to a local butcher (that kill their own meat) I should be able to get cows tail hair for free, instead of paying a hundred dollars for real horse hair (or the knitting cotton option that I was actually planning due to the hideous price of the aforementioned real horse hair). I figure that people hair dye should work on it to get it black, although I'm not certain about how to stitch it to tape so that the strands don't pull out. Anyone done any wig making?

So things are happening slowly, and I'm just wondering what the calorific intake is on sawdust. I mainly use a mask, but I can still taste the stuff when I've finished.

How much do I wish to dwell on how far we have to go in the next month?

... Approximately None!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 2

There were those who commented that the recent photos I posted made me look very attractive. I personally thought they emphasised that I always look pretty much the same across the years.

So I thought for fairness sake that I should post a less flattering shot of myself. Fortunately I had just the right photo after about a day and a half this weekend sitting in my parent's garage and madly carving at a horse's head.


Martian or creature from the Black Lagoon? (Can you tell I'm smiling?)


And this was what I was doing. My Dad let me use his Dremel which made the carving a whole lot easier for the fine detail stage. Most of the major shaping was done with either a rasp or a sanding disk.


I was a bit concerned about the fine detail. I've often drawn pictures of horses, but only in two dimensions. And the photos in my horse books are also in two dimensions.

Unfortunately sculpture (by it's very nature) is three dimensional. So I had to do the best I could without a live subject to copy. It would probably be a bit excessive to buy a horse simply to finish a woodworking project. I ended up with three good photos (of different horses!). One from front-on, one side-on and one three quarters.

I was still incredibly worried about the eyes. Hours of hard work could be stuffed up entirely by a slip of the Dremel.

And here are a few shots of the end product. There's only sanding left to go, and I'm very happy with how he's turned out.

The chance that Giggles is going to actually get this present at all?

... Approximately None - I'm getting a little attached to him.

I accidentally named him.

And talk to him while I'm working.

Alot.

And pat him.

And take him for trips to Toowoomba to meet people (when he's not even finished yet).

The chance that I don't have a few issues?

... You guessed it!

A Horse for Giggles: Part 1

Just like misery, hippomania likes company.








And in our family it is in the genes - so it is very fitting that Aunty Jenny feed, encourage and give every opportunity for Giggles' latent horse-loving gene to flourish.







I started with a Happy 0th Birthday present that included a soft rattley toy in the shape of a horse's head. Then tried to teach her to say "Daddy, can have a horsey please" from about the age of 3 months. Daddy would always counter with, "I think Aunty Jenny would love to buy you a horsey," so that might have back-fired a little.








Anyway, when I was a child I always wanted a rocking horse. A proper rocking horse like you see in period movies in some mansion in Georgian England. You know, with the stand and the horse swung from it. *Sigh* My repressed childhood.









Okay, so I got to have real horses for a few years while we were out west. The rocking horse would have been a much cheaper option, but Mum & Dad provided the Real Thing. This possibly downgrades the level of repression I can claim for my childhood - but I've never been one to let the facts get in the way of a good story.








So because I always wanted a rocking horse it becomes essential to give one to my niece Giggles (who is showing every sign of early hippomania - just like Aunty Jenny).








I found a book on wooden toys (that belongs to my Beloved who started out life as a carpenter).








I looked at the sizes and decided that it needed to be a bit bigger so that a child could sit in the right place, not precariously balanced on the rump - I'm not going to be responsible for Giggles having an incorrect seat on a horse.







So we scaled up the plans to get enough room for a child to sit and have a little growing room. It might have ended up a little bigger than anticipated. And this is the story up to now (and the reason that blogging has been a little short on for the last few days):-



Plans in progress. Trying to make certain everything was in proportion. It answered my question that the head they had in the book was just the wrong size, but I had scaled it down too much - so I made a few changes. The body shown was only a spacer, not the full width in case you're wondering about the poor thing's nutrition (or lack thereof).




The LBD is happy to help in any way he can.

Working title at this point should probably be "Blockhead". My Beloved laminated multiple boards together to get a piece thick enough for his head. Definitely a job for him, not me.

My very clever Beloved then uses a jig saw to block out the basic shape. Another job for him.







Then it's back to me and my rusty, I mean trusty, rasp - trying to get the basic shaping for the neck and head. I've got a little further than this now, but not looking forward to eyes, nose and ears - all of which are detailed and difficult. Every horse book I possess is scattered around the house.




First we had one leg...




Then we had fore legs (one more to go - oh the bad pun)...

Final leg is marked out, my Beloved will probably cut it out after work today.

So we're living in a house littered with dismembered horse limbs and much, much more work to do before the deadline (Giggles' birthday) in the middle of June.

Chance that it gets done on time?

... Approximately None - NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Not Dead Yet.

Warning - This post is vintage Jen. The Exuberantly Verbose Version. If you are not a fan of the odd long post stop reading now. By the way, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING READING THIS BLOG??!!??

I have a client. He is an elderly man who doesn’t appear to enjoy the best health and often wheezes his way through our meetings. When I ring to talk to him and ask how he’s doing, he invariably answers, “I’m not dead yet, young lady,” in the beautifully lyrical remnants of the Italian accent of his youth.

It’s a bit disconcerting until you realise he’s joking and has probably used that same response for the last 50 years. I mean, it sounds as though his laboured breathing might stop in the near foreseeable, but obviously he’s not expecting it any time soon.

Today it so happens that I’m a bit closer to the end of my life than I am to the beginning.

Yes, I know that’s true for everyday, but it so happens that the odometer clicks over another year as of about 6pm this evening. And according to my Dad, I’m now middle aged. Yep. If I’m headed for three-score years and ten, I’m half-way. Thanks, Dad.

So I was very heartened to find out that I still have youth and vitality.

How did I find out that I still have youth and vitality, you ask?

Well… (and this is where it gets long)

Sometimes I have to go down to my Beloved’s business to mind the phones and the counter because both of the boys have to be out doing installations or quotes and someone needs to “shed-sit”. I take my work down and mind the phone for a few hours.

Today the phone rang and it was someone who is getting work done by the business in the shed next door. They are closed for a few days, but I know that the two businesses help each other out often (sometimes they mind the phone when our boys are out, for example), so I was happy to do what I could to help.

It was quite simple. It involved going and getting the VIN off a trailer for some paperwork the new owners are filling out and needs to be finalised as soon as possible.

Sounds easy?

Not so much.

You see, between the trailer and where I was standing is a six foot high chain mesh fence. The gate was padlocked.

Now, neither of the boys would have had any difficulty in scaling the fence, reading the VIN, and letting the lady know.

I, on the other hand, am a klutz. A ten-tonne weakling who has no gross motor coordination. At all. Whatsoever.

And I’ve never made a habit of scaling fences. I’ve always been a law abiding citizen who avoids breaking into industrial premises. Or any premises at all, really.

But, I am also a bit of a people pleaser, so of course I will give it a go.

I put the phone down between the gates and used the hinges as a toe hold to get started. Only one toe slip on the way up. Fortunately the panel beside the gate had a top-rail, and I swung my leg over just like riding a horse (except backwards – wrong leg) onto the cross brace that was cleverly placed on the far side for just such a situation.

I was very proud of myself for getting there, and it was easy getting down because I simply shuffled down the cross-brace until it was low enough to jump.

I picked up the phone and read off the necessary number (thankfully the trailer was not locked), then farewelled the lady and headed back to the fence. One issue remained - now that I was in the back yard I had to get out.

Actually, it was a bit easier to get up from this side. My friendly cross-brace allowed me to get up on the top of the fence with ease. The only problem was that the top hinge had a padlock chain around it, and securing a toe hold on the other side was not easy. It was also an awfully long way from the ground and the bottom hinge was not going to be easy to seek by feel.

So I drew on my horse riding past to remember that I’ve jumped off heights two footed many times in the past when I was much shorter than I am now, therefore possibly the equivalent of the fence to the ground compared to my size now.

Or so I hoped.

I got my toe hold, swung my leg back across, rested a little on my tum and then swung both legs out together and jumped.

Perfect two-footed landing. Unfortunately it is now about 10 years since I last rode a horse and I was a little unprepared for the momentum a woman’s body can accumulate during the process of dropping.

The recesses of my brain seem to be saying that the rate of acceleration is 9.8 seconds per second, but firstly I’m not certain that my brain would accurately remember Maths II from more than 15 years ago, and secondly I can’t remember what I should do with that fact once I’ve ascertained the accuracy of it.

Nevermind – whatever the mathematical reasons for it, my legs couldn’t hold my weight at that speed and so I fell back onto my bottom and rolled over onto my back in a surprisingly restrained, loose but controlled way. I used to do much the same thing when I achieved an ‘accidental dismount’ from a horse.

Unfortunately, another reminder of my horse riding days is that there is inevitably a prickle patch wherever you happen to end up coming off.

I was wearing a thin cotton top (which has no protection from prickles at all) and suede pants (which are not the easiest things to get prickles out of).

But dodgy landing aside, I was incredibly proud of myself. I still have it. I am strong. I am not ancient and incapable. I can do ANYTHING! (insert loud, triumphant music here)


This story could have finished here, except that there was one other thing.

One other thing that makes the whole rigmarole hilarious.

One other thing that makes it so that it could only happen to me.

My Beloved came back and I told him the story and how proud of myself I was. He looked at me oddly before telling me the truth.

You see, the land with his and the other businesses on it and the land belonging to the shop next door are part of the same property, despite the fence between them. The backyard area where the trailer is sitting is common to both.

And whilst the gate from this side to the back yard is locked because the neighbours are not open today, the gate from the shop next door is not.

The chance that it occurred to me to walk out to the street, then down the neighbour’s fence and into the back yard through their gate?

… Approximately None
(But would I have felt as ALIVE!?!)

Hippomania and Other Dreadful Afflictions

From the Greek:
ἵππος = hippos = horse
μανίας = manias = madness

My hippomania manifested early. From about 2 I was mad-keen on horses. My parents blame my Grandmother who used to give me 'horsey rides' bouncing on her leg. I wanted to pat any horse that I came into contact with, including an illicit visit to the paddock up the street when I was quite tiny. Mum was very cranky that I didn't take her with me. She must have wanted to pat the horsey too.

The tragedy is that I wasn't able to learn to ride until I was 10 - we moved to Cloncurry from Brisbane. All the kids around me had been riding since they could walk, or before that. I was an old lady of 10. It was not fair.

I am not a good horsewoman. I lack the sense of balance, gross motor skills and lack of fear that are necessary for that. My brain spends too much time calculating how badly I will hurt myself if I come off. And I do come off. It's almost my speciality.

Apparently I have a pretty good seat, and a nice steady lower leg. But don't ask me to jump anything. I once did a one day event at Pony Club. Out west dressage is the boring bit you have to do before the fun jumping opportunities. I did the dressage (which I love), then skipped the worst of the jumps in the cross-country, thereby eliminating myself from the showjumping. Mum and Dad were furious that I'd wasted the entrance fee, but it was worth it from my perspective.

We moved when I was 13. We had to sell the horses. I got over it and settled down into unfulfilled hippomania. I would get a ride from time to time, and I would drink in stories of horses from others.

I did have a slight recurrence at about 25. I was working and had my own money. I sat down with my budget and worked out that I could afford to go to a riding school for an hour every week for six months, or once a fortnight for the whole year. I selected the 6 month option and had the strength to stop at the end of it.

Then I met a lady who had horses and her daughter had gone off to study. Another young woman and I kindly used to exercise the horses for her. I subscribed to an Equestrian magazine. That was fun until I moved again. Back into remission.

Most of the time I can cope. The outbreak of Equine Influenza last year meant that for the last 12 months or so I haven't been able to pat horses in paddocks for fear of spreading it.

Then, this weekend is the rodeo in town. Yes, anyone who shares my hippomania (if it manifests in the rodeo/campdrafting arena) could work out my top secret geographical location. We also have a World Cup Qualifying Eventing weekend each year, and the occasional Polocrosse World Cup.

I live not far from the showgrounds which means that at this time of the year there are horses everywhere. They are beautiful. I want one. We live on a town block. We can't have horses. I don't have time for horses - they would eat more time than blogging, and much more food than the LBD.

What is the chance I will own a horse again in the next few years?

... Approximately None

My Great Big Olympic Double Standard

OK, so here is my confession. I have not watched the Olympics. Any of it. Well, apart from some highlights that I saw on the news the night before last - so maybe that means I've seen 'approximately none' of the Olympics.

You see, I've been burnt before. You have to sit through HOURS and HOURS of tedium to see the one thing you wanted to see, which is inevitably only 30 seconds of it at the end of 3 hours of coverage.

And I know my country. Channel 7 will show us some highlights of the rest of the world and then the Australian performances. The coverage will be skewed to what we're good at. There will be interminable hours of watching people swimming up and down a pool, for example, because that's where a significant proportion of our medal tally will come from.

Now, I could sit through the gymnastics if I had a few hours to waste. There's plenty going on within the space, and they can flick between contestants in different components. It is also very watchable and constantly amazes me with what some people can do with their bodies. I can also sit through the diving on the same principle. Skill, grace and strength combined with visual interest.

But I have to admit what I would like to sit through is the equestrian section. Hours of it. Preferably without the recognisable name co-commentator who has no clue about what is going on. I love the that same skill, grace and strength of the diving or gymnastics, with the added complication that it's a team event between horse and rider where one of them doesn't speak English. Come to think of it, for some duos neither may actually speak English, for example the human may speak German, French, or American or something - but you get my point.

I'll admit that a bit of it does get shown in Australia because we do OK in the three day event, and the cross-country and showjumping components do have excitement factor. It's usually sandwiched between everything else that is happening, but there's a little bit there.

I want the dressage. Not the dressage that is the first stage of the three day event, but the REAL dressage. Yes, I know some have compared it to watching paint dry, but it is beautiful. Power, obedience, beauty and grace - communication without words. *sigh*

The real difference between watching a horse circling in an arena with perfect engagement and a swimmer doing laps with perfect technique (apart from the viewer's area of interest)?

...Approximately None