Gumby and Pokey

Remember these fun guys?  When I was younger, I wished for my very own Pokey.  When that didn't happen, I just called my younger brother Pokey-butt instead. 

Gumby and Pokey

I had original intentions of going out and riding yesterday.  Best laid plans are often derailed.  I went home sick as I was beyond holy buckets sick.  So no driving anywhere or moving, let alone riding. 

But this morning, I got up as I always do and went out and did barn chores.  The not-so-feral husband had left town to go volunteer and help at a summer camp we grew up at, so I was on my own which was fine.  The weather was nice and I could poke along at my own pace turning out horses and picking stalls, which is a bit relaxing after a crazy, crazy week.

And then I stepped in a washed out hole.

You see, I'm a little too flexible.  Generally people consider that a good thing.  But I've come to realize that it's not such a good thing. That's how I went from pokeying along at the barn of my own volition to pokeying along because I was in pain (again).  Eh.  It happens.  I can generally tolerate the back issues now which is also related to being too flexible.  Apparently my too weak core can no longer hold the rest of the stuff together that it's supposed to, so I tie my shoes the wrong way or pick something up awkward and I end up straining my back.

So, for all you people that are too stiff in the morning and wish you were a little more like Gumby, I'll take a little stiff and raise you a little gumby.  It would make me a little less Pokey.

But even after all that excitement, I had a decent morning.  I tried out the new saddle I accidentally bought.  I say accidentally as I didn't think making an insultingly low offer on ebay would result in someone actually accepting said offer.  So now I have another saddle.  And better yet, my husband didn't kill me.

So I stole the leathers off my close contact and gave it a trial run, except I was in jeans and Ariat terrains.  Not really conducive to riding in half chaps in my new-to-me-saddle but I went for broke, I suppose, even while looking a little feral looking.  All in the name, I suppose.

And holy buckets, riding in a dressage saddle after riding in my flat-as-a-pancake County is a way different feeling.  I want to desperately ride in it again tomorrow in a pair of breeches.  I'm not sure if I'm in love with the feeling yet, but like a new-to-me car I have to decide if I love it or hate it.

So folks, any gumbies out there?  How do you avoid frequent horse related or work related injuries?  I am constantly battling muscular issues from this and it gets frustrating.  Little did I know when I sat there and wished I could have my own Pokey that I would get Gumby with it!