Here's Adeliade. She's WONDERFUL.

"eHt is EWH zat stOOps zee'orse from WOOK.inGah."

Tonight while riding, all at one time I got a huge cramp in my side, my mouth was like sand was in it, I couldn't breathe with the humidity, so I stopped trotting. The FrenchMan was telling me to "sit the trot". I was walking.

The FrenchMan is the owner of PRA. His accent is very thick, so much that a lady who worked for him thought that the name of the arena was "the carolina"- he was actually saying "the covered arena". It's so funny and true!

As I circled around to his chair in the arena entry he asked me "CRiidsstEEn why you go on da walk weHn I say go on sihhtg trOt?"
"I need a break." I said. (I can NOW go until the last ten minutes of his lessons without having to constantly re-organize and find my stirrups!) sometimes I just need to walk, damn, my legs are shaking- muscles are screamin here, FM....
"WHhhhaht do you say?" he replied.
So I said again, " I need a rest, I've got a cramp!"

"zaT is NoHt my PROB LEhmn." he said shaking his head at me and added "zee'orse is WOOK.inGah. eHt is EWH zat stOOps zee'orse from WOOK.inGah."

When he said that I just started laughing. Laughing because I was so excited to know at that second that he is going to push me. He's going to make me trot longer, work harder and motivate me. I thought, "He wants me to be a GREAT rider.EEE! a DRESSAGE rider!" then I almost cried.

Those things help me even when I'm on the ground or in my car, or at work. Years ago when I first rode with him, his attitude made me a wee bit frightened (sometimes). Now after all these years with time in the saddle I'm excited for it. I want to do Half Passes and Pirouettes and PASSAGE!! OMG PASSAGE! (it might look cheesy to you non-horse people but you have no idea what is going on there, it's MAGNIFICENT, trust me. Horses don't JUST SKIP ACROSS THE PASTURES)

After the lesson, he told me that it was a good lesson, and that I am on my way to truly becoming good for dressage. I do not lie. It made me a little worried about if what I was thinking was true...then he said that I should also be honored and privileged to use his saddle again. "whew." I cried a little and thanked him. "See ya on Saturday!"

I have so much respect for that guy. He's truly one of my heroes. He IS Dressage. I am honored to be training under him. He's even giving me private lessons, and whenever he answers his phone which is not too often it gives me time WALK a second at least.

*Dressage is the discipline of riding that is my passion. It is a very refined riding style supposed to look like dancing with your horse. It is very healthy for horses, a sort of yoga meditation exercise for them. It's very intense. I think it's kind of like Karate, you know how Karate is more of a "study" than a hobby?
Here, read it for yourself! shit, wikipedia crashes my browser. sorry.

Using cuss words the way they were meant to be used

I rode Adelaide tonight. She's a Thoroughbred mare at the PRA (the place in which I ride-, Gerard's place) that I have been lucky enough to take lessons on and so I wanted to write about my ride while it was still fresh in my mind.
That's why I
walked into my computer room to turn on my monitor and found ANOTHER cockroach. I then ran outside to get the DEMON. People, this is a sprint because in a blink of an eye these FUCKERRRRRRRS can run to South Africa and back.
"GRRHhhh!"

See, I found out last night when I went to spray the one on the living room wall that the DEMON was getting low, so I grabbed the spray too. This time I took the spray AND the DEMON as my weapons. I'm so sick of this I can't even tell you. I sprayed the shit out of my freshly painted wall with the nozzle spurting and burping from the small amount of liquid left then, as the botherment was running down the wall toward the floor I hit it with a few blasts of the spray...until...the spray wouldn't spray anymore. THERE'S STILL HALF A CAN LEFT AND NO SPRAY POWER! "That's alright" I thought, because I had already got this one good and I have three more applications of DEMON left. I'll just make some more....

So now, I'm still wanting to write about my great ride tonight but I'm derailed. I just wanted to turn on my computer and go pee, and now I'm mixing up another DEMON concoction in the twenty dollar sprayer to again arm the parameter of the house, inside and out. Immediately. Needless to say I'm a little agitated and using cuss words the way they were meant to be used.

I throw the self-dissolving packet of poison into the sprayer and fill it with water, screwed the cap on and shook.

"ok then. I'll just WAIT to write about my great ride on Adeliade."

I go to grab the twenty dollar sprayer to lift it out of the sink and THE. TOP. BROKE. OFF. Yep, I am now at this moment defenseless. No spray. No DEMON. Looking around this room every two seconds for a blur of brown scurrying through the light. Because now, with the state of things; that's what I do. I can't help it, they made me this way. I know, that they know, that I'm pretty much helpless. They're plotting to spend the night under a glass so that they can stare at me while I'm writing. Hah. They must be Catholic because guilt seems to be their only offense.

I questioned myself as if i should run to the other demon, WalFart and retrieve a sprayer and some new spray but those stinking cockroaches aren't going to make me go to WallFart. I mean, just how much of myself do I have to sacrifice for these jagoff bugs?

--I even hate spraying them. It kills me to see them turned over moments before their death legs all frailing and gasping for air. I have to leave the room when this is happening. REALLY. Now I know what my parents meant when they said "This hurts me as much as it hurts you." right before I got my ass beat. (**looking-around**).

I am the Commander Girl

Dear Mr. Periplaneta americana, aka: Cockroach, Water Bug, American Cockroach, Palmetto Bug.
I am writing you today in reference to your lack of obeying zones prohibited of your roaming of my quarters via our agreed contract.

I believe it was about three months ago that I spoke with your initial representative, I met him, one fine day while entering my bathroom. He commanded my attention with the swiftness of a Jedi master. His followers were not so lucky. I am enclosing these photos as proof of the anguish you have brought upon your kind.





I must commend you. You have trained your officers well. They are nearing the optimal size for bedroom seizure. I am aware of this.

You failed to abide by our initial verbal agreement to stay out of my habitat. The question is, who ought to make that decision? Me or the commanders? And as you know, my position is clear -- I'm a commander girl. This means war.

Your soldiers are very dedicated and willing, knowing that by entering my territory, many times it leads to certain DEATH. I am sorry that I have to retort to such strong and harsh acts upon your kind. I must let you know however, that death by sprayed toxic poisons will continue. At least until you grow a softer epidermis so that your hard outer shell will not CRUNCH when death by shoe-sole is administered.

Your agile metamorphose is astounding. Although I am complimenting your professional abilities, I am here to tell you that you will not win this battle. I am larger and this is how the west was won, my friend.

In retort to your sniper invasions I will let you know that I have applied a shield of defense to every inch of our agreed parameters. A toxin to your kind that is so incredible it goes by the name of "DEMON". Scared, hah? If you can get by that, then try and get passed Meow, the Siamese Sargent of Stabbings & Disembodiment's.

Either I will succeed, or I won't succeed. And the definition of success as I described is first person violence down. Success is not no violence."
Thank You.