We’ve all seen and heard a lot about rollkur by now, and I think we can all agree that it’s disgusting. Pretty much everyone seems equally horrified and shocked to see it. So the next question is – why is this method of training being rewarded in the show ring?

If you haven’t watched the video of Edward Gal warming up at Aachen, you should. It’s eye opening. Sadly, he sure isn’t alone in his methods.

https://www.facebook.com/DianeBliessen/videos/959979567398339/

What’s more eye opening is the excuses that so many people make for this. “Oh, it’s only for a few minutes” or “Oh, it’s just to stretch his muscles”. Bullshit. This is abusive riding and it’s not ok. The way these horses are trained behind the scenes is very evident in how they show once they’re in the ring. They turn into tense leg-flingers with tight backs, necks bent in an unnatural place, poll low, nose behind the vertical, contact tight, mouths clamped tightly shut with borderline air-restricting nosebands. And yet they are rewarded with good scores from the judges. WHY? This isn’t beautiful, and it isn’t what dressage is meant to be.

The FEI Rules describe the object of Dressage to be “the development of the horse into a happy athlete through harmonious education. As a result, it makes the horse calm, supple, loose and flexible, but also confident, attentive and keen, thus achieving perfect understanding with his rider.”. What you see above isn’t harmony, it’s force and dominance. And these are some of the supposed “best” horse and rider pairs in the world, in the eyes of competitive dressage.

There was also uproar last week about the World Young Dressage Horse finals. Something else you must see. The second place horse looked like this:

If that’s what scores well in competitive, top of the line, international dressage, I want none of it. The only word I can come up with is atrocious. I don’t care how much those legs are moving, this is not beautiful. This is not right. Yet the scores were as follows:

9.3 walk, 9.2 trot, 9.2 canter, 8.5 submission, 8.9 general impression. Total 9.02

A 10 is perfection and they think that’s a 9?

As the article states: “If this is dressage, then we must throw the classical principles out the window,” said one enormously successful trainer of young, and Grand Prix, horses… Aside from a clutch of wildly patriotic Scandinavians, I could find no experienced observer who was not outraged.

What is being rewarded here, with judging like this? Are we saying it’s ok to train young horses to be tense, overbent, and man-handled, all for the sake of flashy gaits? Are we condoning the kind of training that breaks down horse’s bodies and minds (enjoy your retirement, Totilas) and creates a false presentation? Dressage should make a horse better. Stronger. More elastic. More relaxed. Since when has it been a contest to see who can get the flashiest leg movement, at any cost?  Valegro has been a breath of fresh air for the sport, incidents like these are a slap in the face to progress.

This has to change, and if you aren’t outraged you aren’t paying attention. Or you just hate horses. Or you’re completely delusional. Let’s call a spade a spade here – this kind of training is brutality and abuse, plain and simple. We know it’s wrong… the question is: what are we gonna do about it?

I lost my mom yesterday. She’s been ill with cancer for almost 3 years so it was not a surprise but that doesn’t really make it any less difficult. I’ve never really talked about my mom or her health struggles on here, because I didn’t feel like it was my story to tell. But now that she’s gone I feel like it wouldn’t be right to NOT talk about her. She loved this blog, and I think my readers need to know a little bit about the magnificent woman I was lucky enough to call Mom.

My entire life I’ve always been the quintessential Daddy’s girl. As far back as I can remember, I always ran to him for comfort and saw my mother as the “bad guy”. She was the disciplinarian, the one who always said no and didn’t put up with me being a brat. When you’re a kid you don’t really understand those kinds of things, but as an adult I realized that she was just doing her job – molding me into a good person and productive member of society. That realization gives you an entirely different perspective.

We butted heads a lot, especially when I was a teenager, and seemed to always be able to push each others buttons. In retrospect, I think this is because we were a lot more alike than either of us would’ve cared to admit. Both stubborn, both prideful, neither of us lacking conviction. A lot of my other qualities can be credited to her as well… my independence, my love of the written word, my self confidence, my very liberal mindset, and my passion for the arts. Although anyone who has seen me try to sew a button onto a shirt knows that I most assuredly DID NOT inherit her gift for all things crafty. She made the most amazing quilts, she could paint, she could decorate… she could make beautiful things wherever she went with whatever materials you gave her. Her ability to find the beauty in anything was truly a gift. My mother was one of the most creative people I’ve ever known, and she always encouraged that quality in me, even if it meant being “weird”. She loved purple, and her nickname amongst all her quilting buddies was Purple Princess. She was a free thinker in every sense of the word, always with an open mind and big heart.

I think my mom only went to one horse show ever – standing outside in the heat and dirt wasn’t her thing – but she supported me in lots of other ways. She drove me and my friends to the barn after school every single day. She supported me after high school when I decided to delay college to move to the east coast to be a working student. She always bought whatever weird random horse thing was on my Christmas list. She absolutely loved seeing pictures of the horses and hearing updates and seeing ribbons. She was proud of me even when I wasn’t proud of myself. But at the same time, she didn’t just hand me anything… I had to work for it. I might have been the “poor kid” at the barn growing up, but for that I thank her tremendously. I learned what it means to really love something enough to work your ass off for it.

One of the earliest memories I have of my mom is her driving me home from swim practice in our very brown 1980’s era Honda Accord. She’d just gotten the newest B-52’s tape and had the windows cranked all the way down, blaring Love Shack and singing along at the top of her lungs. That was my mom. She did what she pleased and she was who she was, and if you didn’t like it – too bad. She taught me to believe in myself, to speak my mind, and to be my own advocate. She also never once told me that I was incapable of doing something. If I wanted to do it, no matter how far-reaching it sounded, she told me I could. I always felt like my mom believed in me 100% and would support me no matter what, as long as it made me happy. What a tremendous gift that is to a child, to always have that feeling.

I know that my mom went through a lot when she was first diagnosed as terminally ill. It was a shock to all of us. She was a tough lady, bossy as hell, incredibly strong-willed, and I just never imagined she’d be taken down at such a relatively young age by such a nasty disease. The diagnosis was hard on her and she went through a wide range of emotions before settling right where I always knew she would – courage. This is the virtue that I have always considered most important and maybe now I know why… I have always seen it in spades from both of my parents. She faced her illness with honor, with dignity, and with grace. Her strength was always and will always be an inspiration.

It’s easy to get mired down in the sadness. There is a big gaping hole in my heart that no one will ever hope to fill. No one can, and no one should. The hardest thing for me is to think that she won’t be there on the other end of the phone when I have my next inevitable life crisis. She won’t be there at Christmas to wrap nine million tiny presents in 9 million different ways. She won’t be there asking me if I’ve read the latest James Patterson book, or tried the new Mexican restaurant down the street.

But I really can’t be that sad, can I? In a way I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything at all, because so much of her is so deeply rooted in me. How incredibly lucky was I, to be able to call this amazing woman Mom? Lots of other people out there would have traded places with me in a heartbeat, and lots of other people didn’t get as much time with their mothers as I did. So I’ll let myself feel the sadness for a while, but then it’ll be time to crank those windows down and sing along to Love Shack once again.

The word “goodbye” doesn’t seem quite right to end this post… something about it just isn’t HER. Since she loved to travel, instead I’ll say Bon Voyage.

I’m sure many of you will ask if there’s anything you can do – there is. Call your mom today, if you’re lucky enough to still have her. Wear something purple. Roll down your windows and have a good sing along to Love Shack on your way home from work. Be weird, love yourself, and don’t take no for an answer. Be unapologetically YOU. And always, always give ’em hell. That’s how we honor her, and it means a lot more than flowers or condolences ever could.

Obviously by the three C’s I mean corgis, Costco, and conditioning. Duh.

Last week I turned 32, which seems pretty impossible. I constantly wonder how it’s even feasible that I’m considered an adult, much less a REAL adult. Like… confirmed. Like… solidly into my 30’s now. I’m pretty sure I like unicorns too much to be a full fledged adult… I feel like I need to call a time out while we get this sorted because surely there was a mistake somewhere.

My immaturity was evidenced in full force by our Costco trip on Friday night. (Ok I know what you’re thinking – going to Costco on a Friday night seems like a pretty grown-up thing to do. It was Rob’s idea. He’s an actual adult.) Rob is over there putting spinach and Tillamook and socks into the cart, and my two contributions were Poptarts and Black Beauty. Because who can resist 48 Poptarts for $6? And you have to admit this edition of Black Beauty is pretty awesome… the cover is a kind of rubbery texture with engraved lettering.

In other news, I’m happy to report that Quinn is settling in really well. I think he’s figured out that we’re his people now and he’s gotten pretty snuggly and sweet. Except for when you bathe him. It’s hard to accurately describe what it’s like to wrestle this furball into the tub, but my best comparison would be that it’s something akin to trying to dip a miniature grizzly bear in battery acid.

Poor Quinn has had some stomach issues the past couple weeks that have been driving me (and subsequently my poor vet friend) pretty crazy. After some experimentation with his food we seem to finally have it under control. Remember those days when you used to exchange sweet, or even romantic text messages with your significant other? Insert a miniature grizzly bear with sporadic liquid shits into the equation and those text messages end up looking more like this:

 This is the life, y’all. Does that count as adulting?

I also spent some time at my parents house this weekend with family, and went through some old stuff. My dad found a ring that my Grandpa made for me just before he died 15 years ago. It’s gorgeous and miraculously (albeit barely) fits. I’ll have to figure out what the gemstone is… it’s deep green kinda like an emerald but there’s a very definite blue hue to it. Almost like a super dark teal.

I did ride Henry both days this weekend, one of which was a fairly awful dressage ride and the other of which was a fairly good long conditioning ride. I’ve been focusing a lot more on conditioning and fitness lately, and a new goal that I’ve made for next year makes it even more important, so I spent some time writing down a plan going forward. I’m going to talk more about both later this week so there’s not much Henry to be had in this post except for his opinion of hot summer days.

And in case anyone was wondering, Merlin is still a terrorist. Poor Sadie. I have photos from their RPSI inspection that I need to post at some point… he’s such a good looking colt, when he’s not kicking his mother in the head.

Put on your rainbow thinking caps and grab your glittery cameras, it’s time for a contest!

In honor of AEC/ATC I’m giving away a prize pack of unicorn paraphernalia and other cool prizes to one majestic reader. Let’s start with the fun part:

What you win

• THE glittery star whip used by Bobby at AEC/ATC, autographed by the man himself
• A Riding Warehouse hat
• A jar of Uncle Jimmy’s Squeezy Buns
• A “Got Balls?” Uncle Jimmy’s T-shirt (size L)
• a pack of 5 bumper stickers with such lovely phrases as “Got Balls?”, “Lick This”, “I’m Haulin Balls”, “Size Matters”, and “Squeeze My Buns”
• A Unicorns are Jerks coloring book
• an official “Always be a Unicorn” team bracelet
• two unicorn and rainbow elastic no-crease hairbands
• a glittery foil unicorn temporary tattoo
• a packet of unicorn food (aka Skittles)
• a pair of rainbow sunglasses
• Gypsy Tails tail extensions
• One MYSTERY PRIZE to be purchased, found, or stolen at AEC by myself and Bobby. Lord only knows what that might be, but you know you can’t wait to find out.

How you win

• Send me a picture that you think best represents our team’s theme of “Always be a Unicorn”. It can be extremely literal, it can be subtle, it can be anything you can possibly think of, as long as it represents that theme.
• The picture must include either you and/or your horse, or have been taken by you. No stock photos. Don’t be a lame unicorn.
• The photo may be edited however you choose.
• You can either send me a link to the photo via the ‘Contact Me’ page here, or you can message it to me directly via my facebook page. Make sure you send me your email address so I can contact you if you win.

The Fine Print (aka the important stuff)

• Entries are due by September 21, 2015. You have plenty of time to be amazing.
• You may submit up to THREE photos per person.
• The contest will be judged by myself and Bobby, we will pick a winner together.
• Please understand that by sending me the photo you are giving me permission to post it here on the blog.
• A winner will be chosen by September 28, 2015.

So go forth, be amazing, get creative, and remember…

Calm down ladies, the second installment in the Bobby series is finally here. Several of you expressed a desire to hear things from Bobby’s perspective, and well – be careful what you wish for, because here you go. Behold Bobby’s second guest blog post, and remember: you did this to yourselves. If you really wish to relive the hurt, go back and peruse Volume 1.

********************************************************************************

When Harry Met Sally
by Bobby B-Dubs

After much begging, nagging, pleading and a final threat of not sharing the Skittles with me (thank you Lori, my most favorite candy EVER), I caved and wrote this post for my adoring fans. Mostly because I cannot possibly be around Skittles for that long without making them rain on myself.  Plus I know the only reason anyone reads this blog is for the occasional mention of me. So for Volume 2 in this gripping series, I give you the story of how I met Amanda:

Let’s flashback to November of last year.  I went to Meadow Creek by myself to compete in the last HT of the season.  There I am, getting myself all situated when a trailer pulls up and this kinda pasty white girl pops out of the truck and starts unloading her cute bay gelding.  She seemed really nice and I was happy to have a show friend… “it’s Snow White and she’s stabled right next to me!”

        I was wrong AF… remember her spirit animal from my last post?? But more on that later…

I usually attempt to see the good in people and eventers are, in general, very friendly and supportive of each other.  We immediately began talking and cracking jokes pretty much right off the bat.  I knew I liked her when she suggested what I was thinking: to commandeer the empty stall next to us and make it our tack stall. Great minds think alike – free tack stall!  (EDITORS NOTE FROM AMANDA: I have no idea what he’s talking about, I would never do such a thing. Lies.)

We have frequent titty twister wars, I always win because Amanda has boobs and I do not.

I watched her warm-up on Friday and saw that she actually could ride, too.  A new eventing friend that is funny, likes free tack stalls and can ride!  I did what everyone else would do and gave a her a good luck/friendship rubber band to wear all weekend (aka a braiding band that I blessed with good luck).  She kept it on her finger all weekend even though it turned a blackish purple by Sunday afternoon.  Boo has loved me since day 1, obvi.

It’s how she feels about me despite the high frequency at which I see her middle finger.

Side note: One observation I made (which wouldn’t make full sense to me until I knew Amanda longer) was that her horse Henry would come over to the stall door just to pin his ears at my horse Halo.  Halo, like myself, is pretty nice and easy going so he didn’t really care or pay attention.  The funny part was that if I took Halo away, Henry would get upset and call for him. But as SOON as I brought Halo back, Henry’s ears were FLAT back against his head and he would make ugly faces. You know the saying that animals take after their owners?  BEYOND true.  Draw your own conclusions there.

Amanda summed up in one photo.

Back to Meadow Creek. How does that saying go… something about how if you survive a natural disaster together you become closely bonded?? Blah blah, something like that but y’all know what I am talking about.  On the 2^nd night of the show it started to rain, and by rain I mean pour, and by pour I mean it was like a hurricane, and by hurricane I mean like a mega typhoon.  There was literally a river going in front of Halo and Henry’s stalls AND a river going through our commandeered tack stall (F.U. karma!!!)!  We had to band together to save our tack, our hay, and anything else that doesn’t repel water – which was everything.  I want to say Amanda actually did a kind gesture and pulled Halo’s halter out of the river before being washed away or something like that, but I am still suffering from PTSD so I can’t remember (EDITORS NOTE FROM AMANDA: I would never pull his janky-ass halter out of a river, washing it away would do us all a favor). We did luck out with our stalls as the interior of the barn and those stalls were flooding BAD and the river was flowing through the aisle way. After a couple hours of diverting water and digging ditches, it did finally stop raining, and the water subsided from the barn pretty quick.  We proceeded to get a little tipsy and then called it a night, rejoicing that Halo and Henry didn’t have to become Chincoteague ponies.

My FAVORITE book growing up!

The next day it was very wet, but the footing was still ok.  Halo is an angel about everything but is PETRIFIED of culverts. Throw in a torrent of water running through said culvert that makes Niagara Falls look like a faucet and you get a Halo on XC who comes to a complete stop and won’t cross said culvert.  4.8 time penalties later we finish XC with no jump penalties.  Remember the Snow White from up above… well this is when the mask was finally removed and the taunting ensued.  “You’re not supposed to stop at the culvert to watch the water Bobby!”  “How does knowing you blew 2^nd place feel, Bobby??”. Yes. You can guess what adorable Disney princess’ mouth that was coming out of…  That same princess who had a refusal and still got 2^nd in her division. (EDITORS NOTE FROM AMANDA: you don’t have to NOT be a shitshow, you just have to be less of a shitshow than other people. Write that down, kids. Advice to live by.)

 Proof that I can’t make this stuff up!!!

 

Snow White if she were Amanda.

To add insult to injury, when we went up to get our ribbons (I know, I know… I am shocked I was still talking to her by this point too!) the lady gave me my third place ribbon and is like, oh, I almost forgot your prize!  She turned around behind her, rummaged through a box, and dramatically produced… A BRACELET. A rubber bracelet.  Amanda collects her 2^nd place ribbon and her prize is rummaged from the box… a BRAND NEW BRIDLE.

Admit it, you ALL feel the same way. 

Now, take a good look at that picture of Amanda and I.  Look closely at her left hand.  Look even more closely at her left pinkie finger.  What do you see? You see my good luck/friendship rubber band that I gave her on day 1.  So, just like her big Novice move-up, her success at this show was all due to me!  A REFUSAL and you move up to 2^nd??  What kind of voodoo is this, goth Snow White? You’re welcome, Amanda. SO very welcome. Once again, I kept your shit show of a self together and made you succeed.  Come to think of it… that rubber bracelet was indeed a rainbow colored bracelet…  and y’all wonder where she got the unicorn theme… Seriously, Amanda, would you even exist without me?

The oh so rare photo of Amanda and I being civil.