Those of you who have met me in person (and there are lots of you) are usually surprised when you meet me. I mean, despite the vigorous cussage that occurs here and the strong opinions, I'm actually generally quite a gentle person and easy to get along with -- although I will admit to a great love of inappropriate comments and slightly-over-the-edge-of-good-taste humour.
I have opinions, sure, and some of them -- as I said -- are quite strong. But just because I don't like a particular yarn or a particular design or whatever doesn't mean that I'm going to tell you you're a total assbadger for liking it when I don't. (Except for the hexipoofs. If you like those, then yes, you are an assbadger, even though I've dyed a ton of mini-skeins for just that sort of project -- but I digress).
In almost any field there is endless bitchery and the stabbings of the backs. I think we all know people who know the "right" way to do things. I've had several people offer to teach me to knit the "right" way.
I knit Scottish Production style. It's not that common, but it's what I learned. I don't hold the right needle -- it's propped somewhere on my body -- usually caught in the fold of the right hip (yeah, some call it "crotch knitting". Get over it -- it's nowhere near my crotch. It's more like groin knitting.)
I don't tension the yarn. I drop the yarn with my right hand after every stitch.
I'll try to explain in words ... when I learned to knit the mantra was "in, over, through and off". So the right needle (which is held somewhere on your body and I'll do a video of this one day if my daughter ever finds the charger for her video camera) goes in, the yarn is picked up by the right hand, it goes "over" between the needles, you hold the yarn in your right hand as the right needle goes "through" and then you give it a bit of a tug as it comes "off" the left needle. That's where the tensioning occurs.)
And, like I said, some folks think this is "wrong" and have tried to help me see the light. I tell them that off they must fuck, as my tension is perfect. No matter how you knit, if you do the same stitch the same way every time, and it always looks neat and tidy and exactly the same, then your tension is perfect and you're doing it right.
So there.
And there are tons of other little bitcheries that occur in the world of fibre. I had someone hang around my booth a lot the first time I did Sock Summit. At that time I was selling my sock yarn as "Toe Jam". I figured that if an entire chain of shoe stores could be "Athlete's Foot" then I could sell Toe Jam, you know? And she kept picking up yarn and then putting it down and going away and coming back and she finally said "I'd buy some because I really love the colours but I can't buy it because it has such an awful name." And I said "oh, I'm sorry about that," but what I really felt like saying is "no, you wouldn't. You really wouldn't. If you loved it, you would buy it. You just wanted to make me feel bad." But being a vendor we can't say that sort of thing.
But now, seeing I seldom vend, I can say it. If that lady is reading this? No. You just wanted me to feel bad. And it really didn't work ... other people have the beautiful yarn and you don't. Go away.
And of course there are all sorts of things to do with pecking order and so on.
But that's not what this post is about.
I've recently entered the equine world, having somehow become a horse owner, and I expected all sorts of snobbery here and there. The dressage folks look down on the eventers or vice-versa, the folks who own this breed look down upon that one. These folks don't talk to those folks.
I wasn't surprised at all. When you're dealing with huge animals, some of whom command huge prices, there are huge issues. Some of these gorgeous creatures are very high-strung, and the owners and riders are equally so.
Really, I expected to walk into a giant vat of bullshit. Or horseshit, to be more accurate.
But I didn't expect any of it to be directed at me. Not yet. I'm just a little kid in this world. I've owned a horse for what six weeks? Totally new. And my little horse? She's recovering from neglect and from being a track horse. She's pretty much totally new, herself. Neither she nor I have ever done anyone in the equine world a moment of harm.
This is what my love looked like, less than two years ago. She was skinny and filthy and dispirited. Completely depressed and so horribly malnourished. She used to race, and then she blew out a knee. Once she couldn't make money for the people who owned her, they basically threw her away. They abandoned her, after she had worked her heart out while she was still a baby (horses don't mature until they're at least six years old. Today, at five, she's still just a baby).
I have no idea how this poor horse came to be on the farm where she was, but my friend Katt saw her and knew that she had to save her. After a year of love and food she was sleek and clean and much happier, although you could still see her ribs. Katt knew that this wasn't the horse of her heart. I've explained in a previous post how she came to be mine.
We've been feeding her like mad. You can only see her ribs, and only just a hint of them, if she takes a big deep breath. She'll never be fat but she's getting a nice decent weight on her now.
She's been training on the lunge line and is learning voice commands (for folks who understand what this means, she's only been on the lunge line three times and already responds to voice commands.) This girl wants to listen and obey and work. She's gaining some muscle, has made friends with the other horses on the farm and is quite frankly happier than a pig ensconced in manure.
And she knows that she is loved.
Yesterday I went to see the Grand Prix jumping out at the Thunderbird Equestrian Centre. It was The. Best. A horse that I had watched several times on YouTube was there (Flexible is his name) and he was MAGNIFICENT. I had the best day and I ate pie and talked about horses with people.
I got some free advice that I didn't want at all, which only confirms that free advice is often worth exactly what you paid for it. A lady told me that I should never hand-feed my horse treats, because it would make her mouthy and grabby. I hand-fed her later anyhow, and when I got home Ben asked me if my horse had liked her Chinese apple/pear. I said yes and told him of the lady's comments. He told me I should have asked her if that was what made HER so mouthy and grabby. I died laughing.
I have no problem with people who don't hand-feed, and if it makes Aviva get mouthy or nibble at me I'll stop it but right now it's something that we both enjoy and she's very polite and careful about it.
Anyhow, the point of this whole rambling post is that ... I found out that Someone. Dissed. Mah. Hoarse.
The "don't hand-feed" lady, who is one of Angela's friends, had asked another of her friends about my horse. The other friend (who is apparently no friend of mine) had said that Aviva wasn't a good horse at all. She was "dumped" on me by Katt because I didn't know any better, and should have been shot for dog meat."
Um. Whut?
What the fucking WHUT?
Does this look like a horse of no value? Does this look like a meat horse? I have no problem with horses being eaten. I wouldn't eat one myself, but there's a zoo out near where she's boarded and there are animals there who eat meat. Often horse meat. There are lots of dogs who eat horse meat. Carnivores eat meat and that's what horses are made of. If it was her time to go, I really wouldn't have a problem with her being used to nourish another animal. It's better than cremation.
But ... and I ask again ...
This horse ... without a miniscule error in her conformation. This horse, who is sound in both body and mind. This horse, who is young and loving and willing to work ...
Does THIS look like the face of a horse that should be shot for dog meat?
I think not.
I'm not going to do anything to her. I'm also not ever ever ever until the day she dies, to anything FOR her. If she's on fire and I have a glass of water in my hand, I shall drink it.
Even if I'm not thirsty.
If she continues to repeat her lies ... well, then, I'm going to introduce people to my horse and let them make up their own minds.
And she's going to look like a total twat. Aviva will never race again; even if she could, I would not permit it. But she's a damned fine horse.
People who are looking for standing in a community should really choose the battles they want to fight. She can't possibly win this one (I'm not sure what the battle even is).
I'm not hurt. I'm offended on behalf of a very good horse who doesn't even know she's been insulted.
Imma keep feeding her and in a few short weeks Imma ride her.
She will be a paddock horse for a while and then we'll likely do some trail rides. Maybe, if she likes it, we'll do some dressage.
We will, however, not be shot for dog meat. Neither of us.