Well, nice to meet YOU, Captain Goofballpants

I needed a few days to let some muscles stitch themselves back together before getting in the saddle again, but with Mother Nature (or, at least meteorologists) reminding me that winter in SoCal means *gasp* rain, I needed to hustle my tired, sore butt in the saddle today before STORMWATCH 2013!!! (!!!!!) struck.

I was short on time and on daylight, but I got out there.  I knew Tril probably needed a good head-clearing galloping around the ring in turnout, but time did not allow and I only lunged him in a circle.  He's not allowed to canter circles yet due to chiro's orders ("I don't want him on one leg"), so all we did was trot.  Bor-RING to a 10yro hot blood, but deal, boy.

After about 4-5min of lunging each direction, I got on him...and, uh, wow.  I got to meet the real Trilogy today.

"The real Trilogy?"

Yes.  It's rather like what my son's preschool teacher was telling us today at his conference (which is why I got to the barn later in the day):  when they start testing boundaries and acting out, it's a very positive sign because it means the child feels emotionally safe.  

I don't mean Tril hasn't felt "emotionally safe" or some other 70s-child love mush, but that since we are now really doing some work (or, I suppose, starting some work), he is showing me his "I don't wanna work!" side.  It's a positive because it shows I am actually asking him to work now, instead of willy-nilly wandering about the rings.

He didn't do anything bad, and, true to who he is, he wasn't being nasty or aggressive or spooky.  He was just being himself--his big, goofy self--but bigger.  I could feel his energy when I got on him; he rounded up and tucked his chin and played with the bit, which at first had me thinking, "Great!  He's giving my hands a break!" However--our first trotting pass, he decided the leaves in the back corner were a reason to buck or crow hop or something else that involved rounding up and ducking his chin further.  Never afraid--just annoyed--I said, "No, no, NO.  Go forward, go forward, go forward, and get over yourself."  Harrumph, he said, you're no fun, and off we trotted (with some circle and figure-eight work tossed in when he was feeling just too good).

He kept up the "Let's PLAY!" persona, but was a good enough listener inbetween the "Aw, c'mon, let me spook at the trash can!  Let me get all snorty and blowy and race down the line!  Let me be stupid at the leaves again!" for me to actually get some riding in.  My legs are still lame (literally with my right ankle, dammit, but it's not sore in the stirrup) and I had to remind myself to use my lower leg, but that proved challenging with Captain Goofballpants.  

We worked for a good 25min or so (all the time I had with the vanishing daylight) before getting everything battened down for WATER!  FALLING OUT OF THE SKY!!   !!!

I'd really like to get some lessons on him soon so I can better learn his language (and that includes how to properly call him on his bullshit).  A local Arab trainer is busy with shows--Scottsdale is next month--but I might manage one sooner than later.  We shall see.