Rock n' Ride

Two weeks ago I was doing a pre-show groom on a horse at the barn. I was pulling his mane when a song by classic 90's angst queen Alanis Morrisette came on the stereo. The song sparked a small lecture on 90's alternative music, and the relative success of Ms. Morrisette throughout the years. Ebony (the horse getting groomed) was fascinated by the discourse on the irony of 90's angst rock getting rehashed on stripped down intimate acoustic albums a decade later. "Really Eb, she only ever had that one successful album, so I mean she had to re-release it. Everyone has a mortgage to pay!"

The horses love my music lectures.

Of all the things in this universe there are two I love above all else
1: My horse
2: Rock Music

Lucky for me, the proprietor of Colby Creek Stables (our home) is a kind soul whose young son shares my enthusiasm for a good guitar riff. It is under these conditions that I am able to rock out while I'm at the barn. A typical visit to the stable starts thusly: greet Dobby, use the restroom, turn on barn stereo. Dobs and I generally rock out to Fremont's Classic hits 105.5, and I'll argue here this is one of the better classic rock stations in Nebraska. From time to time, pending the presence of teenaged souls in the barn we jam to 98.5, modern hit music. Sometimes we even bop along to the oldies, depends on the day really.

Under no circumstance however, will country music be played when I am at the helm of the stereo system.

Good music, and a good horse, well it just puts me into the best mood possible. After a long day of legal wrangling at work I need to cut loose and unwind with my best man (Dobs) and I feel really blessed to have a place where I can enjoy both of my favorite things without fear of retribution. Rides seem better, tack gets cleaner time just flies at the barn with some rock music rolling in the background.

...and occasionally I am known to sing to Dobby. I'll bust out with most anything. Despite being a self-professed rock snob I happen to know the lyrics to 90% of the songs on the radio, and even if I don't like it, if I've had a good ride and I know the coast is clear I do sing along with the radio to dearest Dob. He seems to prefer my renditions of Eagles and Queen songs. It isn't all together uncommon to hear me mumbling lyrics to him while I groom, or do a little dance while cleaning tack.

I can't help it, when I'm happy I move I sing, there is nothing to be done about it but join in or laugh.