This blog started because I finally pulled on my big girl panties, dusted off my notebooks, and started chasing a dream. I have been writing and telling stories for years; some have been read by others, most have not. A hospital stay of four days for asthma indicate that time isn’t going to wait for me; if I want to get this dream of mine off the ground, I’d better start blowing some hot air under it while I have it to blow. Why the ridiculous name? Because I am a horsewoman. I have trained, bred, raised, and loved horses since I started breathing. I remember most, if not all, horses that have passed through my life and I can still recognize the whinny of horses sold years ago when I hear them at events.
Our herd stallion had a head that made people weak in the knees. Refined, with a prominent eye and small, beautifully shaped ears, it was what we in the horse industry called a “baby doll” head. He managed to pass the trait onto most of his offspring. When we stopped breeding horses, we were left with three foals: two colts out of the same mare and a filly out of another. One of the colts and the filly had that “baby doll” head. The last colt did not. He had a giant, jughead by the time he was eight months old. Guess which one I ended up with?
I was used to handsome, pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, and other descriptive words about my horses heads and when the decision was made for me (more on this later), I was dismayed. While he was structurally stunning, I couldn’t get past that UGLY head! My husband first said, “You can’t ride the head” after one of my bitch sessions, where I was near tears at the thought of riding an ugly headed horse for the first time in 30 years. He used that statement many times over the next five years as I struggled with my steeds less than perfect bean to remind me that I needed to take what I had been given and to learn to appreciate it.
Mr. Howell has grown into a massive, gorgeous animal who finally grew into his head at six and a half years old. Dan was right (Oh, Geez! He is going to see this.), and Mr. Howell, (Howie, Howard, God Damn It, Put That Down!), now weighs in at over 1250 pounds and is as athletically talented as any horse I have ridden. He’s has super smooth gaits and is finding his speed. His head is not nearly as refined as his brothers and sisters, but what he lacks in beauty, he makes up for in tractability. He is super easy-going and very willing, if not a little lazy at times. When I saddle him up, his head is, indeed, not involved and I have grown to love him as is.
I have been blessed with a loving husband and the freedom to do what I want my entire life. I know and am fortunate and am happy to have what I have.