Goes with Oatmeal

My best friend's daughter got married June 18, of this year.  I did not quite finish the present in time, but now it is done.  Non-weavers, you will probably tune out.  I used FoxFibre Coloragnic yarn from Vreseis Ltd, 10/2 cotton in an oatmeal color.  Sally Fox developed cotton plants with selective breeding from a wild brown cotton, and spread out the spectrum to include green, red and pink.  These are a throw back to ancient Peru where cotton was grown in many colors, not dyed later.  The fabric is 20 inches wide, 24 ends per inch and 24 picks per inch, 480 threads arranged in a straight 3 thread 16 harness Huck Lace pattern with free form undulations.  Towards the end of threading the loom, I was feeling a little smug on the accuracy, and of course missed a thread and had to re-do the last 100. Ugh.  Washing and hemming awaits.  Then the giving too!

Princess's Thanksgiving

Many of you relaxed and had a delicious dinner served to you with much fanfare.  Me, I had to work for my oats this Thanksgiving.  You would think that serving up ride after ride would get me a pass, but no, my owner/guardian Joan signed us up for the Bernie Traurig clinic over Thanksgiving weekend.  I have only been "off campus" once since hanging out with Joan in March of this year. So this was new and different and I intended to milk that novelty for all its worth.  Add some winter chill and you night even call me feisty.

What, exactly, is a horse clinic?  That is when a phenomenal world class trainer comes to your area to teach master classes over a weekend.  Four horses, four riders, with Hugh included, signed up from our barn.  We joined about 15 others divided into 4 classes.  This took place at Kilham Farm in Nicasio.  Three of use were in the first session in Saturday.  That meant arriving on Friday and getting introduced to the new surroundings.  I did get a little amped. But Joan figured the best solution was forward, forward, forward, faster than I wanted to go, with no opportunity to go vertical and buck her off.  I tired out and agreed to a truce.

Saturday, the class was 90 minutes long, with 5 horses in the area.  I did lose some concentration ability part way through and got a little difficult, but mostly cooperative.  Sunday, noticeably more cooperative and patient, I didn't look like such a newby .  Joan learned some pointers to make her ride me better, I hope she remembers everything because it could make quite a difference.  Mostly Bernie stressed keeping arms elastic with consistent contact in the canter, getting a rhythmic cancer.  I am a very sensitive mare, you know.  She can't get away with nothing! Guess that is why she needs three thousand lessons a week.

It's not "Baby Blue," It's Indigo

Some projects take longer than others.  I bought totally Marin yarn from Windrush Farms, meaning the sheep are raised in Marin, fleece is cleaned and spun and naturally dyed, in this case with indigo.  I knit up the front, back, and sleeves.  I hand sewed the shoulders together and then knit the neckline in the typical 1-1 ribbing.  But then, all progress stopped.  the simplistic task of sewing the side seams and sleeves was just a tad too tedious to undertake.  Those of you experienced knitters know what I am talking about.  The knitting books make it look so easy.  Stitching yarn at the precise part of the edge loops to make a thin invisible seam.  But I had other pressing things to do, laundry, sorting mail, cooking dinner, even cleaning bathrooms.  It seemed like anything that needed attention got out in front of this seam thing.  Like a writer's block, some trivial appearing but insurmountable feeling task was looming on the horizon.  And I pride myself on the other "F" word, finish.  So fun to finish projects.

At the last Conference of Northern Californian Handweavers conference, someone mentioned, oh, don't bother with the slow cumbersome method.  Just sew up the seams with your regular sewing machine.  Look at any commercial knit item, machine seams all over the place.  So pin and sew and Voila!  A completed sweater that fits and is warm.  Only problem is it is baby blue, I mean indigo.

From Silly to Sublime, Princess Learns to Fly

If you are going to commit, why not go all the way.  You have a horse, go to a horse show over Halloween weekend, and not dress up?  How is that even possible.  My daughter-in-law suggested an Avatar outfit.  Not the dorky multi-legged horse, but the elegant flying pterodactyl-cum-dragon and myself as the blue maiden with pointy ears.  Sure, that will work.  Not commercially available, I started sewing.  This was Princess's debut away show with me. I was worried about causing her stress and consternation with the outfit, but she had no concerns about any accouterments foisted upon her.   On the other hand, the other horses in costume got her unglued.

We were totally overshadowed by some spectacular outfits, and had a great time in the mix of at least 100 other horse-crazy people in the costume class.

But Sunday was the real flying lesson.  I cautiously entered her in 2'9" classes for the first three days of the show.  Since she generally only cleared them by a foot, I thought moving up 3" was within her scope.  The last class was a 3 foot hunter class in the outdoor arena.  I thought the Halloween special events were over, but a pair of hot air balloons, close enough that you could hear the propane heater fire off, got her attention.

She walked into the arena.  Her eyes instantly calibrated the difference from all the previous classes.   It was as if she said, now this will be fun.  Very purposefully and carefully, she punched out a little extra vertical trajectory and tucked her front legs so tightly her hooves touched her elbows.  I miscued on one diagonal line, we do need a little more experience.  Otherwise, she was fairly brilliant and a blast to ride.  It was as if she still had the Avatar wings for the round.  Walking back to the barn, I think she was happy to look like a horse again.

Private Capote Reports form the Field

 Good evening.  My name is Private Capote.  I am a Thoroughbred learning a new job, jumping,  and specializing in the hunter and equitation divisions.  I am owned by Lindsey, the best horse owner in the world.  You ask anyone of my stable mates; they see the carrots coming my way.  I am in training at the Hugh White Training stables.  I had to change my profession three times, and you young folks think you have to be nimble   First I was a race horse, with the tattoo to prove it.  Then I was a lawn mower put out to pasture for four long boring years.  Then I was adopted by the aforementioned Lindsay.  She wanted me to get some more show experience, since this is only my second year with this new gig.  But she was too busy with people-work to show me, so let her friend Joan have the honor.

Now I don't really need a rider, I do know how to jump on my on.  But I am not too swift with reading, and do not know my Arabic numerals at all, so learning the course was a challenge.  Today, for instance, we showed in the Evan Handy Hunter class, a 3 foot class.  What a course.  Trot the first fence, roll back to a bending line, jump a diagonal line away from the gate and up hill that was a 4 and a 2.  Hand gallop a single oxer, and be moving forward over that baby to impress the judge.  Make a tight roll back to another oxer, halt, stand square and still for 5 seconds (I needed Joan for that too, horses don't count), and trot the last fence.  Resume the canter, most conveniently landing on the correct lead, and trot out out the ring.

Upon leaving, some other people-competitors were very nice and complementary of my round that I let Joan participate in.  She replied with the appropriate thanks with the added information that I was a rescue Thoroughbred purchased for five dollars.  Well, I heard that and I raised up my head, Princess style, pinned back my ears, lowered my eyelids and flared my nostrils disapprovingly.  I am not a 5 dollar horse, I must be worth at least $6.50.  But then again, horses can't count.

Yours, Private Capote

A Horse by Any Other Name

        Okay, let's get the horse name thing over with right away.  Her name is U-Princess.  She is a registered Holsteiner mare.  In that breed, the fillies are named with the first letter assigned to the year of their birth.  2004 was a U year.  Ursula was taken January second.  After that it was slim pickings.  Someone thought she looked like a princess, the requisite U was added, and we have U-Princess.  Colts are named starting with the first letter of the sire's name, a much more traditional approach.  But girls have to work harder.

        This weekend, U-Princess and I competed in our first show show together at Sonoma Horse Park.  No matter that the jumps were as big a door mats.  With the Infinion Sear Point Raceway busy and Blue Angels over head, it was a stimulating environment for our first show.  But show horses are a different breed, they have to deal with many challenges that Equus Przewlaskii (which all of you know was the species from which domesticate horses derived) never dreamed of.  I entered 4 Hunter classes on Saturday and 3 Equitation classes on Sunday.  With her shampooed, her five pointed star shown like a high beam and her 3 white stocking stood out like Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader boots.
        Enough build up.  Now for the results.  We got a first, second, third and fifth on Saturday, earning enough points for a reserve champion in that division.  On Sunday, noticeably more organized and purposeful, we earned a respectable first and 2 seconds and another reserve championship, for adults jumping door mats.

        I did not have the option of picking my own first place prizes, but would have been drawn to the fine red wine or tailored picture frames.  That is what happens when you are sitting on a horse and they are out of reach.  So my trainer and assistant trainer chose for me.  Saturday, a pink beaded coin purse embellished with a pony profile (hard to do using pink on pink, but they managed) was chosen.  Sunday, I came home with a tell-all book about the A circuit (they jump higher than door mats) written by the daughter of New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg.  Guess what I'll be reading tonight.

        I was told that in previous blogs, there was only preamble and no details of the actual rounds, or classes.  So here goes.  This is what I vaguely remember (cognition and retention happen better when you are breathing).  Keep her head down, keep up the impulsion, keep her in front of your legs, land on the correct lead, or half halt and get a flying change without loosing impulsion, get to the perfect distance to the fence every time, and trot out of the ring with a smile on your face after squeezing with 8,000 psi because you refuse to wear spurs because she doesn't care for them.
         This would not have been possible without UP's first trainer Nathalie Guion and my coach and trainer Hugh White, huge thanks.  Hope you had a great weekend too.  Love Joan

Nothing Comes Between Me and My Horse

Except my hand woven saddle blanket.  Anyone over 50 knows what I am talking about.  I have been weaving since 12 years of age, and riding since 6 years of age, so you would have thought I would have put the two together before now.  But maybe that is because I did not have a sweet beautiful mare named Princess to weave something for.

English saddles, in my teenage years, had shaped blankets that have a one inch rim showing around the edge.  Who is going to hand weave something that will not be seen?  But in the 35 years that I stupidly wasted not riding, fashions changed.  Now and English saddle can have a square cut pad, with the portion behind the knee showing your barn's logo, or the name of the last Medal Final you won (not yet for me).

So I experimented with soft but sturdy and washable fiber and tried bamboo.  I wanted a pattern visible from far away since we have a huge arena.  I wanted colors that coordinated with her bright mahogany bay coloring (plus wanted to use up the extra yarn in the studio).  I re-worked a traditional overdraft pattern (weavers know what I am talking about, others can look it up on Google or other fonts of knowledge).  I changed it to a 4 block 3-1 1-3 twill of the Dorik variety to not have floats longer than 3.

I started out measuring off and winding the beam with 680 warp ends, get each one through one and only one correct heddle on one of 16 shafts with no crosses, get them through the reed, and then throw the shuttle a mere 872 times and you have it!  The first handwoven saddle blanket ever seen at the Riverside Equestrian Center.  Its debut was Jody's Fun Show Saturday July 2, 2011.

I will not hold is against my own son for beating me in the forth class.  How did he do that?  Was it because the judge was a woman?  Hmmmm.

Circles

I weave in straight lines.  There are structures where warp and weft bend, but I weave in straight lines.  So there is nothing more challenging that to create the illusion of circles.  With my 16 harness loom, one can create a 16x16 grid, sort of like a very coarsely grained 256 pixel image.  Not a 256 megapixel image, but two hundred fifty-six actual little squares on graph paper.  Not every combination works, one can't have a thread floating out in space for a whole inch before being woven in and anchored down.  It would get caught on every passing finger or zipper and snag.  But even with the remaining subset of interlacements that do create workable cloth, the 16 harness loom has enough variables that computer assistance is extremely handy.

For plain weave, over-under-over-under, one can use a 2 harness loom, with only 2 options, number one harness up and number two harness down, or number one harness down and two up, to create the two sheds in which to propel the shuttle to create cloth.  Work up to 4 harnesses, all of a sudden there are 14 possible combinations (over 1, under 2-3-4, over 1, under 2, 3, under 4, etc).  With an 8 harness loom, 254 combinations.  With my 16 harness baby, 65,534 possibilities.  I don't know about you, but I started forgetting people's phone numbers when I had to know all 10 digits, since they started with different area codes inherited from moves 3 cities ago.

With the help of Bonnie Inouye's book, Exploring Multishaft Design, and workshops with Jannie Taylor and Sharon Alderman, I created a draft that worked.  Graded circles in various sizes.  I wove up several scarves using 8/2 Tencel yarn.  One particularly fetching combination of cream, white and grey will be entered in the Marin County Fair this summer, come visit it over the July 4th weekend.

Three Six

Everyone in the hunter jumper equestrian world knows what "three six" refers to.  Others might not have as clear a picture.  It is the height of the jumps on the course, as in three feet six inches, or 42 inches.  Snuggle up to a bar and set your elbows down, that height is probably close to "three six."  It is also the height I have not jumped since 1972.  And it is also the first time my trusty steed Tango has ever jumped a course at 3'6", so why not start at the show?  Last weekend at Sonoma Horse Park, we competed in the HMI Equestrian Challenge.  Rain delayed the start one day.  I was out at the barn and on my horse at 6:30 am to be able to school in the various arenas.  Even though this was home territory, load speakers, buzzers, banners, coffee carts, trucks and trailers made the environment electrified, and Tango responded to the stimulation like a hip hop dancer trying out for Lady Gaga, when I wanted a more Fred Astaire look.

I was wondering why I felt like I had forgotten how to ride, felt awkward like I had two left boots.  Then it dawned on me.  I was schooling at the same time all the pros were fine tuning their horses, gracefully and apparently effortlessly jumping all the jumps that were still a big deal to me.  I stress "apparently effortlessly" because to get that effect, one make fine adjustments every stride, having the horse arrive at the sweet spot with just the right amount of impulsion so that the jumps flows, no last second jerky changes in speed or stride length or a dozen other variables.

Day by day, or rounds smoothed off, quicker lead changes, more bending in the corners, more consistency in cadence, and, oh, remembering the courses with no bone headed wrong turns.  A few confidence building ribbons did not hurt either.  I had signed up for the NorCal 3'6" Adult Medal Class, which was on the last day of the show.  Adult means 18 and over, also means finally not having to compete with awesomely talented teenagers.  Up until Saturday night, I still thought about backing off, scratching and waiting until the proverbial next show to cross the three six barrier.  But really now, would I have that much more training to make a substantial difference?  Of course not.  The height represents a tipping point from a beginning or intermediate rider jumping lower fences where the horse can take off from a variety of distances and still make it safely on the other side (always a good goal).  Here, the belly has to get some lift, a short flight plan negotiated, and there are much smaller tolerances for take off to get the job done.  Then do it right ten times in a row.  Not that it is that hard, half the people in the show were jumping much bigger.  But this was MY barrier and this is MY story.

Tango galloped though the entire course cooperatively.  We had a totally enjoyable round, ending up in sixth place and feeling delighted with the experience.  Thank you, Tango, you are a great partner.  And thank you, Hugh White, for great training and coaching.

3-9-11 The horse show before this:

I had a blast this weekend.  I pretended to be in the trainer ranks by getting up at 6 am and schooling in the arenas where we would be showing 7 hours later.  No jumps, just nice consistent flat work and getting her used to flapping tent walls and searing bands of sunlight cutting across dark shadows.  All the trainers around me were busy riding 2-5 horses each, it was a kaleidescope of activity, more complicated interlacing patterns than seen in Cavallo.  Then Tango got a rest, message, chiropractic manipulation, her nails done, her braided mane spruced up, tail conditioned, more buffing than Dorothy meeting the wizard.  Don't worry, Allan, this was artistic licence, no added expenses incurred.  

Then the classes began.  1:30 sharp, the 18 and older ladies were milling around the entry gate with no one offering to go first.  What was the best striding on the broken line?  Was the four stride a reach or steady shorter strides?  The gate man, responsible for getting us in the ring despite our reservations has to be a bit of a comedian.  Good humor goes a long way in that job.  I heard, "Joan, I heard you offered to go first.  Well not really, Hugh said you would go first."  So in I went, basing my striding on some one who walked it and told Hugh what she thought.  Third hand information.  Worked great, made all the distances, decent bends, lead changes, nice distances, not too much motion or ducking, and a sitting trot to a walk out the ring.  The rounds and better each time.  She was a sweetheart in the flat class and that rounded out the day.

You are NOT allowed to ask how many people were in each class, but I did end up with a first, second, third and fourth.  But I also have SO MUCH to work on, always seems to become more obvious in the show setting.  

Over the weekend, the competition stiffened up.  Hordes of teenagers and preteens, released from school responsibilities, descended on the show grounds like fans to a Justin Bieber concert.  They mounted their fantastic equine champs and glided though the courses, capturing the elegance only mimicked by the animation in Avatar. Alternatively, Tango and I were consistent, no drama, plodded along, and dropped down in the ribbons to 6-7-8 th places typically.  In the last class, Norcal 3', we had a really fun twisty course, no mistakes, got the job done.   We placed 6th.  But, as Hugh kindly pointed out, first geezer.  I was clearly the highest placing person who could drive themselves to the show.

Tango did perk up in the big jumper ring.  A little over powered, and doing the lines in jump off striding (my bad), we still have work to do.  Coming into the one stride combination against the railing, Tango moved sideways about 4 feet just before the jumps.  She sometimes does not like solid walls she can't see through.  What if there is a saber tooth tiger ready to pounce, at least some ancestral gene reminded her of that possibility.  Good thing the jumps are 12 feet wide.  I calculated that we still had room to make it.  It did cross my mind that my left foot might hit the standard.  I was not worried about personal injury, but scraping my boot!  How ridiculous, a fasionista thought at that time?  Then we had to stay relatively over for the second jump so the distance was doable, calculating the hypotenuse on the spot.  I can well see how we ended up in 7th place.  But doing the victory gallop, with the long ribbon around her neck was a blast, even following six other young ladies, led by the incomparable Haily Webster, now 14.  

Your reporter in the field, Joan

10-18-10 Norcam Finals and Maybe

   I wanted to shine, put my best foot forward, look my best.  In a woman's terms, that means mandatory makeup.  I should have reconsidered when the temperature was expected to reach 100 degrees in the shade, and the shade was provided by a few fronds of some newly planted palms.  Sitting from horseback, that was not much cooling.  Well, I did my best, coiffed and ready.  Of course, every time I looked into the mirror, sweat had interpolated into every pore, my eyeliner had repositioned itself into raccoon eyes, and I decided that was enough of that.  The rest of the show, I wore spf 30 sun screen, and still got a tan line around my helmet strap!  Next time I will get advice from the Synchronized Swimming Team.

   The horses have to look as clean and shiny as the riders.  Hard working grooms shampooed horses daily.  Early one morning, there were 5 greys at the wash rack.  Suds generated looked like a set from the movie Shampoo.  One lucky groom had a bay,  He was in and out in 2 minutes.  The others were washing off the tell tail green blotches that the horses had unwillingly tattooed themselves, thinking a pile of the warm steamy manure in their stalls looked deceivingly like a pillow.  

   Max, the announcer and Grand Prix judge had the job of herding cats, I mean getting 47 people to line up for the draw for the 3 foot Norcal Medal Final.  We dutifully formed a line, and once at the front were asked our name, and were to pick up a program with the order number inside the front cover.  All the twelve year olds were shy, answered Max's questions in their squeaky high voices, made even squeaker and higher with the PA system.  All below my shoulder in height, I felt like Gulliver surrounded by Lilliputians.  Finally, my turn, Max did not ask my grade in school, just the name.  I drew 41st place.  Later I learned all the other old farts like me had their 12 year old daughters draw for them, removing themselves from this indignity.  But I got my draw, and the next day was shaping up.

   Saturday, Connolly and I were riding, each on two horses, me in three classes, Connolly in four, and between us, spread out between all 5 areas, and the classes started all at the same time.  That would be Michelob time for Hugh.  One trainer, 5 areas, 4 horses, and two sensitive females?  How was this going to work out?  I felt like buttering up Patty Ball and asking for a warm up once.  But never fear,  High has some sort of 5-rounds-to-go esp and shows up on time.  Good thing he wears a white straw Stetson so I can find him.  I felt like curious George, about to get into trouble, but the man in the big yellow hat (in this case the aforementioned white hat) would show up just in tome to keep me out of horse show ignominy.  

   Now, why would you not throw one more variable into the mix described above?  Hugh wanted Maybe rounder and on the bit in the beginning of the course, not finally attaining it five strides from exiting.  So we borrowed a pelham.  Warm up went smoothly.  We jumped a hay bale bounce (non horse people, just skip this part, too hard to explain) and that got him excited.  Into the ring, horse and rider 41 went before the judge's fatiguing eyes.  First three jumps nice and brave and forward, decent curves, did not loose speed either.  Then a little light bulb went off in Maybe's head.  "I have a pelham in my mouth!"  he though.  I swear (excuses, excuses) I have next to no pressure on the reins.  Some leg, but obviously not enough after his realization.  I got through both bending lines, to the one stride and to the sold fences bounce.  But on the last diagonal, I added a stride.  Horrors.  I was crest fallen, what a dope.  But whatever, have to switch gears fasted and read my animal.  Goota learn from this.  I now am pretty sure I go first today, reverse order of the scoring form yesterday.  What a way to enter the ring, but I am determined to have a wonderful round, keep an open mind, and enjoy the experience.

   A few more thoughts from these last few days.  I did have one blond moment.  In the back to back 0.95 jumpers, there were two parallel diagonal lines.  On the very last turn of the last class, I though I was heading for the far line, but the correct option was the tighter turn to the closer line,  Veering past the center line because of this fleeting "blond moment", I reconnected with where I should be heading, got to the vertical on an angle, Maybe was a little surprised and brought down the rail, but made the rest of the line fine.  Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all my foibles!   

   One funny scene was the 47 of us descending on the course for round 2 once posted.  Half the people snapped images with their iPhones so they could have a copy while walking the course.  No, I didn't see anyone sneaking a peak when the work off was announced.  but I am sure the seniors (senior moment finals) would have wanted to for their complicated work off course.  

   Then there was the cabal of the Pony Arena.  Connolly and I were trying to figure out the busy Saturday detailed above.  I said my event was in Hunter Ring II.  She chirped up, "Oh, you mean the Pony Arena?"  And hence forth, all day, I was reminded that the only time she had been in that arena was on her pony while attending elementary school.  Thank you Connolly, confidence builder!

   One ribbon, one prize, Equitation under saddle, on a very calm, very cooperative Tango.  Fourth Place.  As I picked up my ribbon and walked out of the ring, Hugh reminded me, "It's the glasses.  Makes you look studious."  Thanks,  I don't need two confidence builders.

   Finally, Sunday, round two, sold, driving rain, soaked through all my clothes, horse a bit on edge, totally biffed my round.  More leg into a flowing hand, a lesson that will be imprinted on my mind FOREVER! 

   From the Field, Reporter Joan Pont