New jewelry blog

I finally have my new jewelry blog set up; check it out! I guarantee that it will be amusing!

The Birds and the Beads

15 years!

She makes me laugh, and she's made me cry,
she's dropped my heart into my stomach and she's lifted it into the sky.
On her back and by her side
I've experienced some of the greatest moments of my life,
and together we've grown from
silly young girls into silly mature gals.
She's my horse and this month we've been together for 15 years!
I love you, Limerick!

Busy, busy, busy--Lim's eye and a new jewelry shop

A lot has happened since I last posted. In late January, I noticed Limerick had a small growth on her eye. It is subtle, but I did notice it. I took photos and emailed them to my vet.


In the photo, you can see what looks like a tiny faraway nebula in outer space on the outer corner of her eye. As you can see, it's only visible when she looks forward.

My vet responded stating that she does not want to make a diagnosis (which is understandable; it's not very professional to do so over email) but that we need to monitor the growth closely. After further discussion I learned that if the growth gets larger, Limerick will need to be referred to an equine hospital for biopsy/removal of the growth, and due to the location she will need general anesthesia.

I am not freaking out over this--hardly. I know she will be fine, especially since I caught it early. But due to the potential for large vet bills in my future, I was spurred to take my jewelry-making hobby a step further and open a jewelry shop on etsy.

It just went up recently and so far, since jewelry is already a heavily saturated market, I am just trying to market my shop as best as I can. You can check it out here: Heidi Carpenter Designs and also check out the Facebook page I made for my shop.

I also plan to start a blog about my jewelry making, and will post the link once I do so!

The perfect end to a phenomenal career

Zenyatta finally did it--she won the coveted Horse of the Year award. Like last year's HoTY "race" against Rachel Alexandra, this year's was just as hot. Blame, Zenyatta, Blame, Zenyatta--who would get it? Who deserved it? Who earned it? The debates raged throughout internet forums and blogs.

But in the end, the Queen won. My husband I watched the Eclipse Awards ceremony on television last night and funny enough, in the final handful of seconds before they announced the winner, I just knew, without a doubt, that Zenyatta had won. I don't know what sparked it or why, but the feeling was strong and suddenly there.

Congratulations to Jerry and Ann Moss, two of the kindest, most generous Thoroughbred owners in the sport. Watching them press their faces together in tearful elation after Zenyatta's name was announced brought tears to my eyes. Congratulations to them a thousand times over!

And....the riding screeches to a halt.

Yeah, what it says. Over the past couple weeks, the temperatures dipped down to abnormally cold levels, the wind howled, and I just didn't want to do much more than bundle up in 1000 layers and do the basic feed/muck stall/adjust blanket/scratch withers/kiss routine with Limerick.

And then...

Last Thursday night, I went out for a run. The snow was falling, it wasn't too cold for once, and it was simply beautiful! I wanted to run a normal winter route--along the sidewalks along Warrenville, up Yackley and onto Ogden. Well, I got to the corner of Warrenville and Yackley and abruptly found myself on my back, stars of pain shooting within my head. It hurt so, so badly--it reminded me of the amazing pain I would feel when I hit my head on the ground after falling off horses. But worse.

What had happened?! I was stunned--there's no better word for it. Just stunned.

Suddenly I realized I was by an intersection and people in the nearby cars could probably see me on the ground. I jumped up and moved off the black ice that had taken me down and onto the snow-covered grass. I found my headlamp a few feet away and picked it up and put it back over my head. OH WOW, the pain! My head did not like that headlamp strap...at all!

I tried to shake everything off and proceeded to walk in the direction of my intended route. I got a dozen feet before I realized it was really stupid to be heading that way. I had just fallen on concrete, on the back of my head, what was I thinking? I should go home! The throbbing headache in my forehead was enough to convince me.

When I arrived home and talked to my husband, it was like trying to talk through mush. To compromise, I didn't say much and did my best to speak clearly. I didn't think about why that was happening, and it resolved itself within a few minutes.

But the next day--headache still present--I looked up concussions and read that difficulty speaking after hitting your head is a common symptom of a mild concussion. Ugh. To be safe, I decided I wouldn't ride for about a week--maybe more.

I have a ride scheduled for tomorrow (err, yes, less than a week) but I may change my mind. I plan on lunging Limerick first to get the silliness out of her, and I'll tell her to take it easy on her poor mama!

Hopefully there are no more setbacks. (knock on wood)

Winter's definitely here

We're sinking deeper into the icy clutches of winter. Normally at around this time, I would be riding less and less. But thanks to my new-found determination to get Limerick into shape for jumping, that's not the case this year.

Fortunately we have a nice warm polyfleece quarter sheet (hunter and blue plaid, not Newmarket stripe) to help keep us warm. It's the type that falls over my lap while I ride and is very cozy (although I do sometimes wonder what will happen if I fall off her while that thing is wrapped around us--will she drag me to a painful albeit fashionably cozy death?)

Then of course, I wear my usual Toastie Toes when it's cold enough...and I also have long johns that I wear under my jeans while riding....and can't forget the two pairs of socks....and turtleneck...and thick hoodie...and...ah, yeah, I look like the Michelin Man upon Limerick's back.

But it pays off.

I've had a lot of fun rides on her, lately. I even acted upon my longtime wish to ride her in the snow and, after a warm-up in the indoor arena, led her to the outdoor arena this past Sunday night. It was well after dark and bitterly cold (I would guess about 10 degrees).

On our way to the outdoor arena, in the dark I could see the dim shape of her head perk up and gaze before her. She then whipped her head one way, then another, observing, watching, listening. Uh oh.

I almost turned around when I saw the dark shape of another horse in the arena. It was my buddy Mary on her mare, Abby. I knew Abby could play babysitter for Lim so that decided it. I proceeded.

In the arena, I mounted up. It was very dark but the white glow of the snow revealed the way. I sent Limerick forward and could feel the snow crunching beneath her hooves. I kept her at a walk off the rail in case it was icy. The stars were out. The biting air made my eyes water. My lap was warm beneath the polyfleece sheet. Lim looked around but was calm. At one point she saw the dark blobs of the pasture horses in the distance to the right of us and stopped to stare at them, her head craned towards their way. I stroked her long fuzzy neck and Mary stopped Abby alongside to talk to Limerick. Lim eventually relaxed and continued on.

After a while, Mary and I became too cold to continue so we dismounted. But I can't wait to do it again! It was a beautiful ride--very short but very sweet.

Long live the Queen

This is it--Zenyatta is officially retired. I'm a mix of emotions--happy that she has been retired safe and sound, elated that I have been able to bear witness to this great mare (and in person for her last race, too!), a tad disappointed that she won't be raced in the Dubai World Cup next March, which I think she could win...and of course, I am sad.

I have been thinking about a particular poem for the past few weeks. It was written in 1937 by Joseph Alvie Estes:


'Big Red'


The days are long at Belmont.

Speed they never learn.

And it's many a day since Man o' War

Has looped the upper turn.

The guineas stopped their rubbing,

The rider dropped his tack

When the word went round that Man o' War

Was coming on the track.

The crowd was hoarse with cheering

At ancient Pimlico

The day he won the Preakness-

But that was long ago.

The dust is deep at Windsor,

The good old days are gone.

And many a horse is forgotten,

But they still remember one.

For he was a fiery phantom

To that multitudinous throng-

Would you wait for another one like him?

Be patient: years are long.

For here was a horse among horses,

Cast in a Titan's mold,

And the slant October sunlight

Gilded the living gold.

He was marked with the god's own giving

And winged in every part;

The look of eagles was in his eye

And Hastings' wrath in his heart.

Young Equipoise had power

To rouse the crowded stand,

And there was magic in the name

Of Greentree's Twenty Grand.

And Sarazen has sprinted,

And Gallant Fox has stayed,

And Discovery has glittered

In the wake of Cavalcade.

We watch the heroes parading,

We wait, and our eyes are dim,

But we never discover another

Like him.

A foal is born at midnight

And in the frosty morn

The horseman eyes him fondly

And a secret hope is born.

But breathe it not, nor whisper,

For fear of a neighbor's scorn:

He's a chestnut colt, and he's got a star-

He may be another Man o' War.

Nay, say it aloud--be shameless.

Dream and hope and yearn,

For there's never a man among you

But waits for his return.

When Zenyatta's retirement was announced today, initially I wasn't that sad. I guess "relieved" would be a better word for how I felt. But when I went back and looked through my email archives for this poem, I couldn't help but become overwhelmed with sadness as I read the poem. When I got to "We watch the heroes parading, We wait, and our eyes are dim, But we never discover another like him" the tears welled up.

When any good horse retires, fans of the sport can't help but search for the next good one. And they will come along--it's inevitable. There will be another Curlin, another Azeri, another Invasor, another Tiznow, another Skip Away; although there will always be those to debate that. There's already another Miesque (and beyond) in the great Goldikova, and I honestly never thought there would be another filly like Ruffian until I saw Zenyatta. Even then, their differences are so vast that I can't tell you with certainty that Big Z could beat Ruffian on any given day.

But will there be another Zenyatta? No. I can't imagine it. I've been reading about the great champions of racing since I was around six or seven, and never--from the legendary Eclipse to the immortal Lexington, up until the days of Colin and Man o' War, and to the present, have I ever read about a horse with even half the charisma of Zenyatta.

Many of the greats knew they were great. Most were business-like about it, while some posed each time someone raised a camera (Secretariat, I'm talking about you!). Yet others were infamous for their ornery personalities (John Henry), which only further endeared them to the public. All had charisma to one degree or another.

But has there ever been another horse that literally danced in the paddock? A horse that, in the middle of the post parade, would would stop to survey his or her "public" like a member of royalty? A horse that was the equine equivalent of Muhammed Ali declaring "I am the greatest!"? A horse with a thrilling deep-closing style that never failed to both frighten and elate her fans? A horse that, save her first couple races, always returned to cheers and applause--even after her lone defeat? A horse that could do all this yet be so gentle and kind in the backstretch that she allowed her public to kiss her on the nose, and would return in kind? A horse that calmly allowed the wheelchair-bound to approach her and put a hand on her mighty shoulder? A horse that, with kind eyes, lowered her head down low to gently nuzzle the heads of small children?

I can't even imagine it.

Zenyatta grazes on a strip of grass beneath a tree on the Hollywood Park backstretch. Her dark bay, almost black, winter coat has softened her shine just a bit. The late fall afternoon sun casts a golden glow. Fallen leaves and long shadows. Blue skies. She raises her head to gaze at the devoted gathering standing behind the chain link fence next to her, her eyes soft, her ears pricked. She knows she is loved, but does she know by how many? Does she know just how many unseen people are thinking about her at the moment?

Thanks for the memories, Zenyatta--the past 32 months have been a wonderful, wild ride. I'll always cherish the memories of you. Enjoy the green hills of Kentucky!


Nay, say it aloud--be shameless.

Dream and hope and yearn,

For there's never a man among you

But waits for her return.