We’re getting pregnant!
(Oops. That statement has caused a lot of problems with non-horsey friends, spouses, and co-workers. Barbie, Daisy’s mare, is getting pregnant.)
The internet was clogged (sorry about your connection) for months while “we” made stallion choices via text, email, internet sites, online videos, and of course, various clumps of us met with Daisy in person to review the top 3. A division in the ranks becomes noticeable. All the dressage riders are swooning over Landkonig (Latinus’ sire) and all the H/J’s are swooning over Popeye K. I re-watch the Landkonig DVD: “Are you sure you want to do hunters?”
Daisy looks at me.
I sigh. Landkonig can JUMP. His flat movement screams Grand Prix.
Popeye K video: beautiful, even, rolling hunter rhythm. Happy, confident, he makes every jump look like the most fun he’s ever had, and every line completely natural, as if a jump just happened to appear in exactly the right spot, wherever he canters. He makes huge jumps look effortless. He sails.
In dry footing. In wet footing. On sand. On grass. No change. The rider is definitely riding him, but is also careful to stay out of his way. Popeye K knows his job, and loves it.
“Okay, okay”, I say. “He’s a good match for the conformation we want to enhance, and he’s gorgeous over fences and on the flat.”
Daisy has already visited Landkonig in person. She reported back: not only is he a knockout, phenomenal jumper and proven sire, he’s sweet.
It’s tough. They both have the ability to enhance what Barbie has, have proven offspring, and would be excellent choices.
Thankfully, Daisy and I both know I’m the last person she should take advice from. She has excellent hunter friends, trainers, etc from which to draw opinions and knowledge. I can’t even ride hunt seat, and I’m scared to death of jumping. I don’t have any advice to offer, the only thing I can do is ask a question.
“You’ve been following Popeye as long as I’ve known you”, I say. “You’ve shopped his babies. Don’t answer me. Just think about it: how are you going to feel if you don’t choose him?”
Daisy shoulders her bag. “Good question. The Stallion Committee will take it under advisement.”
I think it’s fate. Some stars should not be crossed. Barbie’s registered name is nautically based. (Think Seabiscuit, Capsized, War Admiral, Man O’ War).
Popeye the Sailor Man?
Note to readers: lately you’ve been subject to my Jackson Pollack interpretation of how life happens: it splatters. I thought I’d backtrack and try to paint by number, so you won’t have to stand around cocking your heads, wondering if this bit is supposed to attach to that bit or if I’m really just loony.
(Hey. I heard that!)