Sunday, June 28, 2009
Dancing Queens and Kings
Okay, so I feel like I need to be put in traction. My ladies club/poker group had a surprise belated birthday party for me last night. The theme was "80s disco". We danced and we danced hard and now I'm crippled. It happens, especially when one's head is weighed down by several pounds of hairspray and mousse.It was very good fun and gave us the opportunity to try our own mass Thriller dance. I've been watching a lot of those lately.
The jumpsuits add a certain something to this one...
As the tuxes and wedding dress does to this. I always like to see a bride take the backseat at the dance party.
And Texas style! Notice how there's always a guy at the front who is really good?
Oh well, if I'm ever going to participate in even the saddest of mass dances, I'm going to need some help in the form of one of the many instructional videos available on Youtube.
This one is my favourite. I think it will be your favourite too.
And since I'm all about the links today, here's a facebook page I found fascinating, partly because I'm always interested in what image of themselves people want to present. The title of the group -- Facebook's Hottest Teens -- will make me seem like an old letch, but it's really kind of great. Sure, some of the pictures are beefcake/booty. But a lot of them are funny and interesting and creative and in many cases, quite touching. Check it out: facebook's hottest teens
Okay, I have to go find the Ibuprofen and then get back to work learning my Thriller moves.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Reasons I Barely Blog
1. Blogger keeps coming up with different ways to access my account. Now I have to log in via my never-used Google account. I can barely remember my bank PIN, never mind a million random, ever-changing passwords.2. It's gardening season. And yes, I am going to make you look at pictures.
Here's the "pond", also known as The Big Bowl Filled with Rocks and Water with Lizards on the Side.
The peony is being all high maintenance this year. She doesn't approve of the container theme, which is Lots of Grasses that Frank Enjoys Eating.
The strawberry plant has produced three berries and I must patrol the area fourteen times per day to be sure that no birds interfere with them. They are so small I'm sure no bird could see them, unless that bird travels with a magnifying glass at the ready.
The scented geranium with weirdo daisy-like flower that I'm always trying to get Frank to sit next to in order to mask his unique Dog Who Enjoys Swimming odour.
Fancy grasses that the peony objects to on the grounds of "boringness" and that Frank treats like his own personal salad bar.
Raised Bed #1, also known as the most expensive, labour-intensive sustainability measure ever implemented. (It is located behind our house on a sort of cliff. Very convenient!) Contains scarlet runner beans, green beans, garlic, peppers, eggplant, radishes, carrots and quite a bit of dirt. Sponsors of this raised bed are James (carpenter/labourer) and Stephanie (dirt carrying cheerleader and forewoman).
Raised Bed #2. Containing a full range of lettuces, swiss chard, Italian parsley and spinach. A showpiece and source of excess self-esteem. Hence the close up...
The wee greenhouse that wobbles uncertainly on our hillside and that I stand in for long moments at a time because it makes me feel like a real gardener.
And finally, we are proud to introduce the newest member of our household, Chanticleer, Watch Chicken Extraordinaire! (See Canterbury Tales for more information.)
Now, back to our list of non-blogging excuses.
3. Francis had to have surgery for a lump on his leg last week. He's made a tremendous recovery but feels that extra decorative grass consumption is needed to speed his healing. He doesn't care that the grass in question costs $12 per pot. He just wants you to know that.
4. Am finishing up the editing on my non-fiction that will be out next spring. I'll write about that soon.
5. In a fabulous piece of news, my first novel for adults has just found a great home. Will also write about that when the time is right.
xox
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Best wishes!
To everyone attending the Arthur Ellis Awards tonight in Ottawa! I will be there in spirit, if not in person.The blog has been quite silent of late. I'm preparing course readings and outlines for the fall, finishing up the memoir/non-fiction and have FINALLY submitted my first novel for adults to my agent. Gulp. It was so much fun to write that I find I miss it.
I'll be teaching a one-week intensive course on writing for children and young adults through UBC's Writing Centre in July and this fall will be teaching writing for young adults through UBC optional residence MFA program in creative writing, as well as couple of courses through Vancouver Island University. I'm breathless at the thought of it! Good thing I'm well schooled in the art of writing in the early morning.
But for now, it's just revisions and picking slugs out of the raised beds.
Now you see why I'm hardly blogging? Imagine daily updates like this! The horror. If you'd like to keep in touch, I'm a bit more active on facebook.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Some Observations Relating To My Recent Trip to New York and the Edgar Awards
1. New York City cabbies expect you to know cross streets. If you don't, they expect you to find out. If your cheap pay and talk phone doesn't work in the U.S., they will lend you theirs. If you are being too slow about things, they'll get on the phone and demand that the person on the other end "get outside to meet your party".
2. The streets of Brooklyn are blessed with an epic superabundance of dog shit.
3. The subway system, while revered by New Yorkers, is an impenetrable mystery, even with the help of three maps and four helpful passersby. This means that the Asperger's guy who has memorized the NYC subway system should have been awarded a Nobel Prize and keys to the city rather than sent to jail.
4. The food at Diner is excellent. Seriously excellent.
5. Rebecca who owns the Hello Beautiful salons is fierce and a damned fine hair doer.
But I wouldn't go sassing back to her.
She and her stylists fit in perfectly in Patricia Field's shop on the Bowery. Also, Patricia Field looks in person exactly how she does in photos.
Cousin Megan almost bought a pair of these gloves to go with her gold lame dress. In the end, she bought a chicken feather headpiece instead. We figured she'd get more wear out of it.
6. The drop-in bluegrass jam in the little bar in the West Village is world-class entertainment. And it's free. Musicians are young, old, rich, poor, incredibly talented and just learning. It's very New York.
7. My cousin Tim's new stripey sweater that looks like a wrap and a shawl and little bit of fabulousness made me feel ready for anything.
8. My cousin Megan's new chocolate company, Coco Pony, produces the most exquisite handmade in Brooklyn treats.
9. The subway stinks (even worse) after it rains.
10. The carousel in Central Park shuts down early when it rains. Crying about it won't change that, as Tappen, Megan and I discovered.
11. Michael Connelly is instantly recognizable. Also, he wears a bowtie well and seems kind of lovely and reserved.
12. Laura Lippman is even more charming and funny and irreverent than I hoped. I told her I wanted to do the Tess Monaghan tour of Baltimore and she told me she's got one mapped out on her website so people won't get mugged. Also, she wants to visit B.C. I refrained from inviting her and David Simon to our house but would now like to let them know that the offer is permanent. I will attempt not to fawn. (And they can tour all of Nanaimo and will probably be safe, unless they go deep into Walmart territory. Then anything is possible.)
13. The woman who presented the awards for the young adult category rocked some serious boots. John Green, who won, had apparently left his pants somewhere. Lucky for him, he had another pair.
14. As soon as the awards were over, I ate my dessert with a lot more enjoyment.
15. Megan and I had the coolest hair at the Edgars. Harlan Coben (another hero) had no hair, and it looked good on him.
16. Sue Grafton was very classy.
17. Spanx are actually pretty comfortable. However, they look bad if your skirt floats up when you're taking the subway into the city.
18. Dim Sum Go Go in Chinatown is amazing. Really amazing. I could eat there every day and twice on Sundays.
19. Lauren Mechling was the perfect guide to Korean "bilibong" or whatever that stone dish filled with rice and other awesomeness is called. It's fun having someone else mix up one's food (our server). I'm thinking of requesting that the next time I go to Earl's.
20. A surprising number of people in New York have pit bull puppies.
21. Venezuelan food is outstanding. Really outstanding.
22. Staring out the window from Tim and Alex's apartment in Williamsburg across the Hudson Rover to downtown Manhattan at night is something I could do for hours every day.
23. LaGuardia airport is in desperate need of a facelift. Only one out of eight bathrooms worked and whole sections of the roof were sagging and leaking water. Obama's new infrastructure efforts should be aimed first at LaGuardia.
24. If I ever get invited to another Edgar Awards, I'm going to make a point of forgetting my pants. Just in case.
Megan and I...
Lovely Catherine from HarperCollins and Megan and I...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Bad Blogger with Good News!
I am a bad blogger. I should be punished. I am on the home stretch of a novel and all focus is on completing it.But in the meantime, many, many thanks to the Crime Writers of Canada for nominating Getting the Girl for an Arthur Ellis for best juvenile mystery!
The other lucky nominees are:
Vicki Grant, Res Judicata (Orca)
Elizabeth MacLeod, Royal Murder (Annick Press)
Norah McClintock, Dead Silence (Scholastic Canada)
Sharon E. McKay, War Brothers (Penguin Canada)
Congratulations to all of us!
Thanks also to Reader Rabbit, happeningest site around, for the interview and reviews of Cowboy and Getting!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
New Cover for Cowboy!
Well, much is wrapping up this week, including a short fiction course I've been teaching at Vancouver Island University and my gig as writer in residence at the Greater Victoria Public Library. Between the two things I've been amazed at all the talented and passionate people on this "island approximately the size of Taiwan".Amazingly, I've almost finished two books as well. More on them later. And yes, I am severely tired. But that's probably because I'm forty now and need more sleep.
In other book news, Harpercollins Canada will soon be releasing a mass market edition of Another Kind of Cowboy. Check out the new cover:
Isn't it great! So dressage-y! Dressage Today, the premiere dressage magazine is planning to publish an excerpt from the book in September. I am all aflutter at the idea that some of my dressage riding heroes might read it!
Okay, I'm going to go and make some vegetable soup. I'm heading off to the Edgars in New York at the end of this month and I want to be looking fit. Suggestions for what I should wear are being gratefully accepted. My usual attire of gumboots and plaid shirt probably won't cut it.
This is a picture of a special type of Hungarian pig. One of these is definitely on my list when I get my farm. Just think: I won't need any sheep if I have a pig like this!
xoxo
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
In addition to plotting sustainability...
I've been geeking it up at Not So Closet Geek.Another Spasm
As anyone who reads this blog know, I occasionally experience spasms of desire to become self-sufficient. I've grown tiny crops of everything from apples to potatoes. Our neighbours are opposed to my plan to keep (extra small) backyard chickens so I'm moving onto mushrooms. As one does. They may even be a normal size. Next up: beekeeping! Think of the outfit I'll get to wear! So official-looking!
As soon as I finish this post, I'm going to get on web and start surfing Myco supplies. And greenhouses small enough to fit on our deck. Look out world! There is extra-stunted-produce and what will likely be undersized Apis mellifera coming your way.
P.S. Did I mention that the neighbors have indoor and outdoor mushroom patches? And that I have funghi jealousy? Just wait until they have bee envy!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Sound of Own Horn Tooting...
from across the water!Thank you to the Interational Youth Library for choosing Getting the Girl as a White Ravens selection! The White Ravens are a collection of 250 outstanding international books for children and young adults. (The books are selected from thousands from around the world and are displayed at the Bologna Children's Book Fair).
In other news, Art Slade's Jolted is out in the U.S. as of this week. It's delightful. So is Art. I encourage all to read it.
And Robyn Harding has not one but TWO books out. Mom, Will This Chicken Give Me Man Boobs? is her hilarious take on trying to be ecofriendly while raising a family and My Parents are Sex Maniacs is her first YA novel.
Also, I'm beginning to think that excessive carb consumption makes my forehead puffy (along with everything else). The plan is to eat some more and make sure. Might be a cheap alternative to botox.
xoxo
Monday, March 09, 2009
Some things I quite like...
The Periodic Table of Cupcakes
Thanks to Tina and to the cool Stickers and Donuts blog: a treasure trove of cupcake links!
And the marvelously talented Shauna Sedola, with whom I did an event last week. I'm still singing her song "The Boy" (plays on her home page). Good stuff. I think she and Stephan Nance should play a concert.
Okay, back to our Snow Day and all the increased productivity that ought to entail but usually doesn't...
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Don't forget!
to join us tomorrow at the Port Theatre in Nanaimo for a lunch hour reading and musical event! Bring your lunch. Share some with me!Port Theatre
12:15 p.m.
Thursday, March 5
Monday, March 02, 2009
Juicy!
Getting the Girl has been nominated for a Georgia Peach Award! Sherman and I are very grateful to the Peach pickers!In other news, I purchased one of those mini-laptops the other day. I have developed eight new crow's feet trying to see the screen. It seems that I can either walk around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame or be the semi-blind squinty lady. Either way, technology is doing nothing for my looks. Nor are cupcakes. But that's another story.
Now I will go to check my manuscript to see if the "putting in corrections fairies" stopped by during the night as requested...
xox
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Objection Filed
Dear First Lady Obama,I would like to formally register my dismay at your cruel and insensitive statements regarding possible names your new dog.
Let me quote you from a CNN article:
The only thing left to pick is the name, and Mrs. Obama said she is not a fan of her daughters’ choices.
“There are names floating around and they're bad," Mrs. Obama said in the interview. "You listen and you go – like, I think, Frank was one of them. Frank! Moose was another one of them. Moose. I said, well, what if the dog isn't a moose? Moose. I'm like, no, come on, let's work with the names a little bit."
I beg your pardon! Frank is an excellent name for a dog. I should know. I have been called Frank (Frances when I'm being disobedient) since I was eight weeks old and I'm EXCEPTIONAL. I bet your daughters heard about me and that's where the idea came from. Or maybe you are harboring hard feelings since I withdrew my name from consideration for becoming first dog. Well, I heard Susan and James talking about about how good-looking I was and how cute and how I shed better than any dog they've ever known and I thought, I can't leave them. They would be lost without me and the tufts of hair I leave everywhere. Plus, they enjoy swimming with me in the summer, even though swimming makes me smell and causes my glands go a bit funny so they have to be "expressed" at the vet, which is fun for exactly no one.
As a result of your slur against the name Frank, Susan has taken to calling me Kevin. That's how much she is influenced by anything Obama. I don't care for the name Kevin and so I'm asking you to admit your mistake. You can do so by sending Susan a message via this email address or you can apologize by sending me several bags of Chummy Yummies and I'll just get used to the name Kevin.
Sincerely,
The Dog Formerly Known as Frank
P.S. I bet there are other dogs named Frank and they probably feel like I do. You can send me their treats as well.
P.P.S. Portuguese Water Dog? Pft.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Please join me...
in welcoming myself back to my blog. I'm at that stage of manuscript preparation in which my left eyelid has begun to twitch uncontrollably.I owe MANY of you letters and responses to emails. I'm sorry I've gotten so behind. Sometimes it seems that the nicer the message I receive, the longer it takes me to respond because I want to be thoughtful etc. I will get back to you and I do appreciate you getting in touch. Sometimes, a well-timed letter is all that keeps me going. Well, that and cupcakes.
If you live in the Nanaimo area, I'd like to invite you to the beautiful Port Theatre on March 5. I will be giving a reading from the novel I'm currently working on. The reading is part of the Random Acts program and it starts at 12:15 p.m. and I will be followed by Shauna Sedola, a singer and guitarist. Admission is free.
xoxox
I'm going to go hold down my eyelid now.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Looking for a place to happen?
Have a lot of time on your hands now that Obama has won the election? Want to boost someone else into the stratosphere of power and popularity?May I suggest that you vote for Stephan? Go to Eugene Chosen and click on Stephan Nance.
That is all.
(I wish I knew how to embed the video in my blog. But alas, that seems to be beyond me.)
S.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Fascinating Article
about censorship and its various insidious forms in School Library JournalIn other news, Another Kind of Cowboy, which has received more than its share of this kind of shady, underhanded attention, has been chosen by the ALA as a 2009 Best Book for Young Adults!
I'm trying (yes, still!) to finish not one, but two manuscripts, so updating will be a little light for the next while. If you are looking for some good times on your computer (no, don't get ahead of yourself), I highly recommend a fab. new podcast called The Read Carpet. Check it out. It's a must-listen for YA lovers. I'm hoping to contribute to the next one.
xoxo
Friday, January 16, 2009
Happy Day, Thy Name is...
Edgar nomination!Just ask me how much I worship the Mystery Writers of America. Go on, ask me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Letter of the Month or Possibly Year (and response)
I love getting letters from readers. Well, I like getting nice letters. The angry, complaining letters I can live without. I don't get as many of those these days, because Alex and Sherman don't seem to provoke people as much as Alice did. Sigh. I miss Alice.Anyhoodle, I received the following, immensely charming missive a couple of weeks ago and it reminded me how much I like getting mail. Also, I thought others might have some of K's questions. With her permission, I'm posting part of her letter and my response for any of you who might be interested in getting published.
Here we go...
Hi Mrs. Juby!
My name is K., and I am thirteen years old. I live in a tiny little town in Alberta called ________ [deleted to protect K's privacy]. We’re proud to say that we’re on Alberta’s map, so I guess we aren’t really that small. I just finished reading “Getting The Girl” last night and I haven’t stopped thinking about Defiling since I started that book. Last year I read all the Alice novels, and I must say they are the funniest things I’ve ever read in my entire life. >[Awww! Thanks!] They were so inspirational and thought provoking! I even performed a segment of “Alice, I Think” in the Rotary Music Festival last year, in the under 12 category. I won second place. The judges were laughing throughout the whole speech presentation. My friends say I’m a lot like Alice when I write, and sometimes in what I do too. I’m really out there sometimes, and I LOVE to laugh. So thanks for writing such great stuff! [NO! Thank YOU for writing such great stuff!]
I go to ______ School, and it’s a good place to spend seven hours a day, five days a week. What I’ve always looked forward to every year is Language Arts. I love to read and write, especially things that no one has ever thought of. Sometimes ideas for a story or dialogue hits me from out of the blue, and I have to write it down so I don’t forget. My major goal though, is to publish a book. [Sigh, I have been there! Well, not the liking school part, but definitely the wanting to publish a book part. But please, go on... Continue complimenting if you absolutely must.]
In grade six, ______ visited our school, and I told him that I wanted to write a book. He said that I should wait to get it published, for fear of being discouraged at a young age. I didn’t believe him, and in fact I was surprised to hear a writer advise me not to publish until I’m older. Whatever happened to reaching for the stars, following your dreams, huh? [Amen sister! I am with you all the way. What would have happened had not Christopher Paolini followed his dream? What about S.E. Hinton? Dream followers, all!]
Actually, I’ve had millions of adults tell me that I should wait until I’m older, that people won’t take me very seriously if I try and submit my novel to a high-class publishing company. My teacher’s marking pretty hard in Language Arts this year, but she hasn’t taken a look at my writing yet (wink wink)! [I'm still with you a hundred percent. My only quibble is the idea that any publishing company is high class. I assure you that they are not. You, on the other hand, are a different story!]
I wrote to ______, he wrote back, and I have submitted to writing contests. I know tons about planning, and I know I have yet a lot to learn, but honestly, some of the stories I wrote when I was eleven are better than some of the stuff my guy-friends write to this day! [Word.] I think with some time and perseverance, I could really write an amazing book, that teens would really want to read. My dream is to write a bestseller, and win tons of awards for it. [Again, I have been there. In fact, I'm still there.] I’ve wanted to be an author since I was in kindergarten, when I wrote my first story about a princess and a prince in a castle. [Mine was about a girl and a spaceship and a dog. I have a feeling yours was better.]
I love writing all kinds of things, and my vocabulary is basically like opening an Oxford Dictionary. I think it would be great to write a book that people my age can relate to, and really be interested in. I got exceptional grades in L.A. last year, and I had a great teacher. I think we’ve pretty much picked apart “Plot Diagrams” and “Sentence Structure” to death, and yet we’re learning more and more this year. Last year we could write simple sentences and quotations, this year we’re learning about predicates and clauses.I understand that a lot of writing is conventions, and all that technical stuff, but no story can be great without a great idea. I think kids can write some of the best stuff anyone will ever read because they can have such a naďve view of life and the world. They make things sound so simple, whereas adults can tend to over think, and over-analyse. [I'm glad you have that insight. Some people never get that.] Kids approach things in a curious way, and their imaginations totally make for great stories! I believe if you have a good idea, you can easily turn it into a good story with a bit of thinking and a lot of heart. [If I ran a publishing company, I would pretty much offer you a book deal right now. But I don't. So let's continue.]
So, I thought maybe one of my favourite authors could help me. How do I get a book published? How can I contact a publishing company? Do you have any advice for young writers who don’t want to wait for adulthood to become successful? I would really appreciate some advice. [Here's where I stop interrupting with comments and asides and start actually giving advice.]
Thanks for your time!
Yours in writing,
K.
Dear K.,
Words fail me as I attempt to describe how much I enjoyed your letter. I suspect it will be the best of 2009. But let me try to answer your question.
1. How do I get a book published?
First, write the book. Make sure it's great and that you've edited it as thoroughly as you can. Then look in either The Writer's Market or The Literary Market Place. These are reference volumes available in some public libraries. Look up publishers and see which ones publish the books you love and/or books similar to the ones you've written. These reference books will tell you what the publishers will accept from you: i.e. query letter only, outline, sample chapters, etc. You may also decide to try and get an agent. They are also listed in the volumes mentioned. Please note that it's harder to get an agent than a publisher for most writers.
2. Do you have any advice for young writers who don’t want to wait for adulthood to become successful?
At risk of sounding all sincere and earnest (heaven forbid!), I think you are already successful. Seriously. Your attitude is pretty much the best I've come across in recent memory. And at risk of sounding like a big old drag, don't expect being published to make you feel successful. It will, but only for about five minutes. Then you'll realize the bar keeps moving. One wants to be bestselling. One wants to be critically acclaimed. One wants to be optioned and made into a movie. One wants to win an Oscar. One wants to win an Oscar for one's acting! It's endless!
As for how to become a writer, here's what I suggest: read everything. Read the best writing that crosses your path and fall in love with great writers and study them. Not them personally, obviously, but their books. Write and write and write. If you come up with a great story and you tell it well, your youth will be a huge asset. That's the truth.
Thank you for the most outstanding letter so far this year.
xoxox
Susan
P.S. And my friend and fellow writer James McCann suggested that you get the publishing kit from the Canadian Children's Book Centre. It's packed with excellent information. Actually, so is James. You might want to look up his blog as well.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Hello 2009
I've found it a bit tough to hit the old blog after my last post. But one must move on, even if one is sad and a bit grumpy.I have a particular method of grieving. First comes the emotional incontinence. This means tears erupt at sad or even just bad songs. Also at sunsets and sunrises. They also appear any time anyone offers condolences. Or says hello in a friendly manner.
Eventually, the tears dry and Grumpy Bird emerges. Grumpy Bird is highly irritable and gets into several altercations with the speeders in the neighborhood. Unfortunately, Grumpy Bird has words with a maniac woman in a mini-van who turns out to be a member of either the Hatfields or possibly the McCoys. In revenge, another member of the clan, this one driving a beat-up white sedan, attempts to hit Grumpy Bird and Grumpy Bird's dog as they are walking on icy street. Seriously. Mrs. Hatfield is so outraged at the suggestion that any member of the Hatfield family should do anything less than the speed of light in the 30 km hr. zone, that she attempts vehicular homicide. After they leap out of her way, she turns her piece of crap car around to scream obscenities at Grumpy and Grumpy's dog for "getting in her #!@^ way" and "endangering drivers who need to $#^! drive." Then she wheels around and speeds off, still spitting swear words out the window. Grumpy makes a note to call a realtor ASAP and I decide that it's time Grumpy Bird took a rest before one of the Hatfield family decide to torch our house.
That leaves me with my melancholy.
Which, as the days go by, is increasingly pierced by rays of sunshine, literal and metaphorical. First, I'm glad not to have been killed by one of the speeding Hatfields in our neighborhood. Second, I miss my horse and riding, but there is frantic housecleaning to be done and there is a husband to needle and whinge at about various things. Third, there are books to be written.
I even pull it together enough to decide on a few goals for 2009.
They are mostly writing goals and the usual personal improvement vows. But I'm also hoping to turn my computer off on Sundays. This is a revolutionary notion in my world. I only go camping to areas with plug-ins and, ideally, wireless. We'll see.
Anyway, thank you all for your kind messages and I'd like to thank the lunatic (Mrs. Hatfield) in the white car for nearly running me down. Nothing like a near-death experience to shake a person out of her blues.
Happy New Year, everyone!
Monday, December 22, 2008
In Memoriam
Rio Tango
May 9, 1996 - December 20, 2008
Pardon me if this blog is a little raggedy. It's a reflection of how I feel.
Rio Tango was born in Maple Ridge to a Jockey Club Thoroughbred dam and a black/tobiano father. He was a registered paint with no paint to speak of save about twelve white hairs on his neck.
Early photos show a tall, gangly young horse. He was worked hard from the start. According to his show records, he was competing at third level at the end of his fifth year.
I became the proud owner of Tango on March 8, 2005. He was being showed at fourth level, but was soon to learn that he'd be going back to basics with me. He stood 16'3 and was not shy about reminding me that all cooperation was at his own discretion. I hadn't had a horse since I was nineteen and I'd never had one quite like him. He was full of opinions on everything from the desirability of apples (high) to braiding of forelocks (very, very low). He was quiet under saddle and brave in the ring and on the trails. He could be counted on to give it his best effort, within reason. He was a horse who believed in conserving his energy for when he might need it.
He was also the best-looking horse I've ever known. You know that old saying: "The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man"? Well, that went double for Tango. We ventured all over the place going on trail rides and taking dressage lessons, but just looking at him was the best medicine for whatever ailed me.
During our time together he faced a lot of health issues. He colicked three times, had a severe foot abcess, and several swellings of the legs due to scratches and so forth. In 2006 he was diagnosed with bilateral lameness in his front feet, probably due to encroaching arthritis. He was allergic to midges and each spring would break out in spectacular hives if one so much as winked at him. This meant that he took enough antihisitamines to subdue a hypochrondriac convention. He was, in short, something of a delicate flower. Maybe it was the thoroughbred in him or maybe the early hard work. Nor was he noted for his stoicism. When the Big T was sick, everyone knew it. Had he been able to swoon his entire 1300 pound self onto a chaise longue and fan himself, I believe he would have.
Last year his health problems were all under control and we started to make great strides. By which I mean he helped me to make great strides as a rider. I believe his feet started to feel better, which meant his contact (acceptance of the bit) improved. And he began to teach me some of his dressage training: renvers, travers, half pass, flying changes. It was incredibly exhilarating.
In July we went to our first show. This was old stuff for him, but I was in a mild panic the whole time. He was a star and, as he had a way of doing, took the edge of any incipient sentimentality at the end by refusing to get in the trailer when the show was over. I believe that the crowd of friends that came out to see us compete confirmed his notion that he was destined to spend his life surrounded by admirers.
In early November he developed a serious infection in his lymph system. We treated it aggressively and for a time he looked like he was getting better. In the end, however, the infection overwhelmed his immune system.
He died on December 20th, which I believe was the coldest day Nanaimo has ever seen.
Tango had this way of cantering up to the gate to meet me that almost broke my heart. I think there was no finer sight or greater honour in the world. I'm going to miss him terribly.
Below are some photos and blogs entries that celebrate the big guy's life.
TANGO BLOGS
Five Days Until Show
1. Start telling people who will listen how nervous you are and how it's been twenty years since your last horse show. That way, when you get stanky scores, you can say, "Oh, I was so nervous! Normally we kick ass. Like when I'm riding alone."
2. Buy a lot of product to make your horse shiny so as to distract the judge from any mistakes you might make. Hope that if you apply enough Show Sheen, the judge might actually be blinded by the gleam emanating from your horse.
3. Worry that you will forget your dressage test. Then tell yourself that if you forget, you will get eliminated and the test will be over sooner. Which could be a good thing.
4. Ride the test a few times in a ring with no letters, just to confuse yourself further.
5. Book extra lessons. Ask your husband, who has never ridden a horse except for that one time when he was eight, to give you a lesson. Listen carefully to everything he has to say, such as "Good! Good! Now do some of the faster one where his legs go all funny."
6. Purchase a mandolin vegetable chopping device from Winners on a whim. While making stir fry seriously cut not one, not two, but three of your fingers. All of which you will need to ride in the horse show. Bandage them so excessively that you can no longer get your riding gloves on.
Three days until show.
1. Lapse into sullen silence. When husband asks what's wrong, complain that you can't find the excellent Dressage Today article on "How to Braid Like Anky" and that because of this setback, you may have to drop out of show.
When husband replies, "What's an Anky?" walk out of room and vow never to take another dressage lesson from him.
Worry that you won't be able to braid like Stephen Hawking if your fingers don't heal soon.
2. Realize that you haven't ridden in a ring with more than two other horses for twenty years. What is that rule about passing during warm-up? Left to left? What does that mean, anyway? Spend twenty minutes thinking of horrifying dressage pile-up that may ensue as a result of your inability to tell left from right.
3. Retreat to bed with pizza and book about mixed martial arts competitions, which sounds quite a bit less stressful and dangerous than dressage shows.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Horse Show or The Trouble with Forelocks
Well, it has been almost a month since Tango and I went to the horse show, so I guess I'm recovered enough to blog about it.
Friday afternoon
1:00 p.m. Arrive at barn. Wash horse, shampoo and condition his mane and tail. Spray him liberally with Show Sheen (see previous note re: blinding judge). Polish his hooves.
2:00 p.m. Braid his mane.
2:40 p.m. Attempt to braid his forelock. Discover he has a severe phobia about having his forelock braided. This in spite of the fact that he loves having his forehead rubbed and his forelock fooled with. Apparently braiding is a very different and far scarier proposition than fooling.
3:40 p.m. After an hour of being flung around the barn during attempt to braid stupid, idiotic forelock, end up with a mild case of whiplash some blunt force trauma injuries and horse who needs to be bathed again due to layer of sweat. Forelock is now tangled and showing signs of wear. Horse has decided his entire head is off limits.
3:42 p.m. Decide that unbraided forelock may be secret signal to judges that he/she is viewing an entirely unruly horse.
3:50 p.m. In a fit of pique, decide to shave horse's forelock off. Get talked out of that by Robyn, barn owner, who speaks in careful voice, similar psychiatric nurse. Decide that tomorrow will glue hair to horse's head using powerful human hair styling products.
4:20 p.m. Drive horse to show.
4:50 p.m. Unload horse. Put him in stall.
5:22 p.m. Stand staring, dumbstruck, at extremely fancy horses from Victoria being ridden in warm-up rings. Realize that several of them cost more than our truck, trailer and horse combined. Feel intimidated. Wish was at home in bed. Wish horse's forelock was braided. Call home to leave self reminder to bring Joico Ice Mist (circa 1990) and large bottle of Aqua Net Superhold to show the next day.
5:33 p.m. Feed horse dinner.
6:40 p.m. Ride horse for brief period after fancy horses have left ring. Feel slight return of confidence because horse is well behaved. Horse is apparently quite exhausted after battle to protect his forelock's independence.
7:20 p.m. Hang out with horse until nightfall. Then return home to get a good night's sleep before show.
10:00 p.m. Arrive home. Clean tack. Lay out show clothes. Premake coffee. Set alarm.
10:45 p.m. Retire to bed.
11:30 p.m. Wonder where sleep is.
12:42 p.m. Wonder what sleep is doing and whether sleep is having fun.
1:56 a.m. Still no sign of sleep.
3:45 a.m. Roll around in bed in mild panic.
4:30 a.m. Finally sleep arrives. Presumably.
Saturday morning
5:00 a.m. Wake up to alarm. Shower. Put on heavy makeup. Not sure why applying so liberally. Quantity of blusher suggests I may be confusing horse show with fifth grade play in which I played the girl who wears too much rouge.
5:25 a.m. Head to show grounds.
5:40 a.m. Arrive to find horse with large wound on his forehead to which his unbraided forelock is cemented with congealed blood. Apparently he's been visiting neighbors over the bars and doesn't get along with one of them. Or, as an experiment, he stuck his head through the bars to see if it would fit and discovered it didn't, really.
6:00 a.m. Finish sponging off horse's head and applying antibiotic ointment. Hope horse doesn't have a concussion. Just in case he does, try braiding his forelock again. Find self slammed against stall wall. Horse's possible brain injury hasn't affected his short term memory.
6:10 a.m. Having fed horse, huddle in tack stall drinking coffee and trying to control urge to vomit.
6:45 a.m. Begin using assortment of hair products to glue horse's forelock against his head. Soon horse looks like Squiggy or Marc Anthony. His greasy, stringy forelock refuses to be tucked anywhere. Give up on forelock.
7:10 a.m. Tack up and then retreat into tack stall to put on new show clothes.
7:15 a.m. Feel regret on many levels at the need to wear white breeches in public.
7:18 a.m. Put hair into hair net. Wish was at a job as a line cook in a diner. At least then a hair net would make sense. As if horse is going to notice if my hair is messy. I mean, look at his forelock! If anyone should be wearing a hairnet, it's horse.
7:20 a.m. Lead horse from barn, admit that he's quite handsome and more shiny than average.
7:28 a.m. Warm up. Find we have huge indoor arena to ourselves! A miracle! The powers that be want us to survive this horse show. Horse is very agreeable while practicing test. Decide to go with "slow but sure" as the theme of our first test in twenty years.
8:06 a.m. Bell rings and we enter at A. Feel overpowering urge fall off thanks to violent stress-induced stomach cramps, but decide not to because of risk of falling on whipper in, who never did anything to me.
8:10 a.m. Test is half over. Realize we are going to survive it. Give prayer of thanks that we asked Joey, trainer and horse masseuse extraordinaire, to call the test because these was a movement in it we weren't expecting. That three-loop serpentine was a total surprise!
8:11 a.m. Test over. Salute. Finally realize that at least eight or nine wonderful and supportive friends have arrived to watch. Pat horse four hundred times and feel tremendous love for husband as he takes approximately seventy-five-hundred photographs. Glad to be alive. Glad to be done the test.
9:32 a.m. Do it all over again. Only difference is, get order of riders mixed up and find self and horse quite some distance from ring when bell rings and name is called. End up trotting into ring entirely unprepared. But pull it together. Horse gives another very slow but steady performance.
9:39 a.m. More applause from lovely friends and family. Several pounds of treats for horse. Show is officially over for us!
The End.
Epilogue
12:04 p.m. Time to bring horse back home. Horse has other plans. Horse has decided that all those people gathered around giving him praise are right. He is a bit of a superstar! Like Johnny Depp, only with even messier hair and smellier boots. Therefore, horse refuses to get in trailer even though horse has been going in and out of trailer at least once a week for years. Horse makes quite a production about it, embarrassing owner. Many people watch and pass judgement on horse and owner. Eventually, four kind souls (Robyn, Rose, Pam and Colleen) from horse's barn convince horse it's time to go and we drive off.
Dear Big Brown,
I have read quite a bit about your performance on Saturday and I wanted to say how proud I am of you. The odds-on favourite to win the Belmont Stakes and, in the process, the Triple Crown, you chose instead to take it easy and cruised home comfortably in last place.
As a horse who has been known to take a relaxed approach to his work from time to time, I fully support your decision. In your place, I would have done exactly the same thing.
Let's look at the facts: you'd already won two gruelling contests, the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness. The heat was in the 90s. People had been messing around with your cracked hoof for weeks.
Your trainer, who'd been injecting you with steroids once a month suddenly quit doing so to prove a point. And your owner couldn't stop fibbing about his bonafides.
More importantly, at your last race you saw what happened to that all-heart filly, Eight Belles, who broke both her ankles after crossing the finishing line at the Derby.
A smart horse, much like myself, you said, "You know, I'm not going to overdo it today. I don't want to take any chances with my ankles. I'll just be cantering along back here if anyone needs me."
Good move, my man. If you're ever interested in taking up lower level dressage, I'm happy to offer advice on ways to slack off while doing it. In the meantime, run, or even trot, as slowly as you can for the next few races and you'll be at that breeding farm before you know it. I hear they have good grass in Kentucky. You deserve it my friend.
Run slow: live free.
Best regards,
Tango
An exhausting trot circle...
Followed by the all-important walk-on-a-loose-rein to recover.