The lovely and talented Lauren Sprieser, my fellow blogger and online friend, is trying to tell us all that the seasonal relocation of her barn to Florida ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

It seems her friends, colleagues and readers (ahem) are sending her emails, texts and phone calls expressing a certain je nais se quoi—oh, could it be JEALOUSLY? And, in her kind and eloquent way, she’s hoping to suppress our little green monsters by explaining that hey, things really aren’t that great here in the Sunshine State.

Lauren, I beg to differ. As I sit here watching more than 20 inches of snow dump from the sky and listen to three 10-year-old boys play knee hockey in my basement at 9 a.m., I’m wondering how hanging out with Midge and Ella could be worse.

Let’s address her points one by one, shall we?

1. The footing in Florida is sandy.

By footing, I assume you mean in an outdoor ring. We’re riding in a tiny indoor ring recently treated with magnesium chloride to keep the dust down. I think our teens would give up Facebook for a week for a chance to ride outside. We’re fighting each other for ring time as our indoor is on the small side and holds the cold like a post-menopausal woman’s body holds fat.

2. Lauren says: “Floridians are scary drivers.”

I love this one. I live 22 miles from work. It took me two hours to drive home last night due to a blinding snowstorm. I’ll take on the Florida blue hairs right now. Right now.

3. All she does is ride and go out to eat.

Um, how does this one work again? Oh, we’re supposed to be grateful that we can cook our own meals and use our free time to exercise or do non-horse activities like vacuum. Got it. This is so weak I can’t even make fun of you for this. At least give me something to work with!

4. Lauren is afraid of the Creepy Crawlers.

There is an “ick” factor here; I will give her this one. It is a shock to the system to go from zero bugs to full on cockroaches, snakes and lizards. I can fix that for you my dear—I can send the boy (my 10-year-old son Ethan) right down; school vacation is right around the corner. He has watched every episode of A & E’s “Billy The Exterminator” multiple times and is just itching to catch some vermin. He’s on his way, free of charge, for 10 days.

5. Florida has no cell service.

While this may make my daughter swoon, I can handle it. I live in Vermont. Our cell service, though much improved over the past few years, has its own glitches.

6. She’s complaining about eating too much fresh key lime pie.

And (AGAIN) this is supposed to make us not hate her and be jealous. Is someone having a Paris Hilton moment? Lauren, let me give your not yet 30-year-old body a message from your 40-year-old body: EAT THE PIE. Your body is burning so many calories right now that you can eat the pie.  Ten years from now if you look at the pie, you’ll gain weight, and then you’ll eat the pie anyway. Stop torturing yourself.

7. They recently pulled a 13-Foot-Long Alligator from a canal down the street.

Ethan says no worries; he’ll shoot it, even if he has to track it for four days. Payment: Key lime pie, dinners out. Going to a restaurant with the boy is an experience you’ll LOVE. Hee hee. Wait, that wasn’t an alligator, those were two northerners with dry winter skin.

8. Florida has no turnout.

No turnout does stink. Winter turnout here in Vermont is a workout in itself. First you have to plow or shovel the path to get to the paddock. Then you have to try to make it to the paddock with the horse dragging you all the way. Then you have to bring out the (expensive) hay.

Gas here is also expensive, more than $3.25/gallon, over $3.50 for diesel. Our water does not smell like feet. But our dogs smell like feet. I don’t know if the people here are pretty, because I can’t see their faces or bodies and won’t for another few months until we can take off all the extra layers.

Our horses are very “up” because of the cold, even though they usually get turned out for six hours a day. Everyone can count on an “exciting” ride almost every day.

Lauren, I propose a swap. Or, I’d settle for an on-site visit where I can inspect your conditions myself to see how difficult they really are. Have the key lime pie ready.

Greetings sports fans from the frozen tundra that is Vermont. I continue to hibernate, coffee cup in hand, looking out the window, thinking about going to the barn to watch the girl ride, but it’s really cold!

The girl continues to put in long hours at the barn, ever the faithful and committed young horseperson. I shamefully admit that over the past several weeks, I have only done drive-bys—picking the girl up at the end of the day, not even getting out of the car. The only real barn time I’ve put in is my regular Saturday afternoon barn chore shift.

My punishment for such wimpy and unsportsmanlike conduct? The weather forecast is calling for temperatures between 10 and 20 degrees below zero this Saturday, during the day. And I get to spend Sunday at a hockey tournament.

It’s silly, because nothing stirs my soul like watching the girl ride. It doesn’t have to be a horse show, or a lesson. Just a plain old Tuesday hack is more than enough to make me thank my lucky stars that I am able to provide my daughter access to this great sport and currently, a wonderful, goofy horse named Mondavi.

We’re nearing the one-year mark on our lease of Mondavi, the Dutch Warmblood owned by Michelle Osgood. Thank goodness we signed a two-year lease because it would be really embarrassing for Michelle is she leased Mondavi to someone else and the entire Howell family went out and stole him and brought him back to Missy Ann Stables.

At 15, Mondavi’s had more than a few juniors on his back and knows his way around the show ring. Over the past year, we’ve really gotten to know him—and the ribbons, accolades and Facebook friends (yes, he has his own Facebook page) only tell part of the story.

Here’s a list of some of what we’ve learned—insights that can only come from long hours spent bonding with a 1,200 animal:

White things are scary.
We had heard the tales and been warned—no white bell boots or polo wraps, stay away from white ponies at horse shows. White coats hanging on jumps standards? He will bolt away from them to keep his rider safe. Mondavi is afraid of all things white. Seriously? Um, yes.

This is a one-kid horse.
Mondavi wants attention, and lots of it. He knows that the best way to achieve this is by bonding with a kid, one kid at a time. You suck the kid in by making funny faces, showing off your tricks (pulling-the-zipper-of-her-coat-up-and-down-really-fast-as-many-times-as-you-can), giving hugs and never stopping. Then you can teach the kid just how you like to be curried, you favorite brands of treats, the correct way to apply peanut oil to your hooves daily, and how to treat you like the prince you know yourself to be.

Mondavi could win an Academy Award for equine facial expressions.
With his big, dark cow eyes and an overactive upper lip, Mondavi can make more facial expressions than most Botoxed Hollywood actresses. As soon as he enters the show ring, his ears go forward and do not move until he steps out (no joke). He can make the most pathetic “beg for a treat” face I have ever seen, far more effective than any dog, stretching his neck out, twisting his head, blink, blink.

Even when you are 15 years old, being clipped is very scary!
Ditto for getting your mane pulled. Even when the same person has been clipping you for the past 12 years. Perhaps this is some act to score drugs?

Mondavi is famous for his “Stinks” face.
The lip up, Mondavi’s “Stinks” face has not only landed him the nickname “Stinks,” but has also made him semi-famous. Every horse show we went to this past summer, at least one total stranger approached us, without a word of greeting or introduction, and began to tap Mondavi on the nose and say, “Do it!” He would usually politely oblige and raise his upper lip. It’s just plain weird.Mondavi is a teacher.
Mondavi is all business when he gets in the show ring and he knows how to perform. I was amazed at what he taught the girl this summer. Truly awed. Each time they went in the ring, they were a team and he was determined to show Samantha the “right” way to do things. If Samantha disagreed, she had to prove to Mondavi why she was right. Sometimes he gave in, sometimes he didn’t. He never stopped. He let her make a million mistakes and still did his job. By the end of the show season, she was a different rider, more poised, confident and intuitive than I had imagined possible. The journey was incredible and I can’t wait for Season Two.

This article was first published on The Chronicle of the Horse website.

Even without a horse show, it was an exciting horse-related weekend nonetheless. On Saturday, the long-awaited installation of new flooring at the barn got underway. The barn was closed for the weekend to boarders—something that I don’t recall happening in the four-plus years we’ve boarded at Missy Ann Stables. My daughter was fighting a stomach bug, otherwise, I think she would have been banging on the barn door, demanding to be let in.

Back in the day, when I was the rider and not the checkbook, the barn was always closed on Monday. I hated Monday. The girl laughs when I tell her that such a thing exists—a day when the barn is closed. Spoiled rotten, that kid.

I was allowed in the barn this past Saturday because I was doing chores, so I got to see the installation unfold. The black rubber mats had been removed weeks ago, and the concrete floors had accumulated a fine layer of grit. I was ready to see a makeover of “What Not to Wear” proportions.

When I arrived at the barn, there was a crew of six men hard at work installing the new flooring. It’s a system of interlocking rubber pavers that sort of look like red bricks. They’re small, and to me, the process looked like having to put together a 1,000-piece puzzle and glue it to the barn aisle. Scary! But these guys were clearly pros. They cut itty-bitty pieces to fit the corners and edges. The boss was a flooring expert with 20 years of experience, but he’d never done a barn before. He and his crew were intrigued by the horses. It was fun to watch them make new friends.

The early morning barn crew arrived even earlier than usual to clean stalls and turn horses out before the 8 a.m. arrival of the flooring crew. After nearly 5 inches of rain last week, that was no easy task. Horses were shipped out and moved around to clear out one aisle at a time so the floor could be installed. Musical stalls was the theme of the weekend. When the horses were returned to their stalls that evening, they didn’t miss the fact that something was VERY different under their hoofs. Snort, snort, snort—what the heck? Is this safe to walk on? Are you sure? Yes, Toto, it will not bite you. Yes, Mondavi, I am aware that the floor was gray this morning and it is now red. Horses, I tell you, they don’t miss a thing.

The result is stunning. It will be interesting to see how this flooring holds up and how difficult it will be to keep it looking this wonderful. We are all thrilled with the way it turned out and are grateful to the barn owners for making the investment.

In other news, how exciting was it to have five whole hours of network programming dedicated to our sport this weekend? Thank you NBC. I taped it, and we’ve already watched the cross-country phase three times. I found it interesting that Ariat and USEF were in a position to produce television commercials. Did they work with advertising agencies to produce the spots? If so, did these agencies know anything about equestrian sports? Hard to tell. I would love to see what the price tag was on those 30-second spots. And while I also appreciate the support from Reem Acra, what was up with those ads? Um, no I don’t love you, or your frizzy hair, or your clothes. But yes, I do appreciate your support of the Games. Your bridal gowns are nice!

This article was originally published on The Chronicle of the Horse website.

Last week, I had a Mom moment. Like most other moms, I do have them—you know, it’s that instant when Mother Nature takes over. Your actions are no longer your own, and suddenly you more closely resemble a female lion or momma bear rather than a middle-class suburban mom. (Those of you thinking, “She lives in Vermont, so really she’s a redneck”….just stop right there. Up here, we call them woodchucks.)

My trip back down the evolutionary path happened at the barn, which is where I am (usually) more skilled at suppressing these instinctual outbursts. Watching your child ride an 800-1,200 pound animal is dangerous territory for non-horsey moms. Mom moments can come frequently and without warning. Any sudden eruption from mom has the potential to scare not only the horse, but other people as well.

And you see, moi, with my own horsey upbringing, should not be subject to these evolutionary outbursts, because I understand that most of these moments, while somewhat terrifying, do not lead to any harm of the cherished offspring.

The moment in question happened during a lesson outside on a beautiful spring day. (FYI, yesterday it was 36 degrees and snowing here.) Samantha’s lesson was going well. Then Mondavi decided that something was really quite scary down here at this end of the ring. He took off, and it wasn’t that “Oh, let’s see what she’ll do if I pick up the pace a little bit,” take-off. It was that no-feet-on-the-floor-I-am-going-so-fast-I-accidentally-just-farted kind of fast.

I was out of my plastic fake Adirondack chair in a flash. Our trainer, Tara was all over it, telling the girl to make him circle, but no, there he went up the long side, faster and faster…

The yell was in my throat, but I managed to hold back the scream of “Pull your inside rein!” My mother-in-law sat by, not really understanding that this was not good. Oh, the irony!

This happened about four more times, with the girl unable to turn the Mo Man on to a circle while he gleefully galloped up the long side at the speed of sound. I was about to hop the fence when Samantha finally managed to get him back under control. It was an excruciating three minutes. I was sweating and cursing under my breath and about ready to….to….to….do something. Because really, who does know what to do with all of that preternatural rage and energy?

I quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed that I’d lost my cool. It seemed I was in the clear. The remainder of the lesson went well without any more outbursts by either me or Mondavi.

Back at the barn, Samantha and I chatted about the little take-off. I had expected tears (from her, not me). Instead she admitted that it was a little scary, but that it was just a dorky Mondavi moment. The rage drifted away a little. Later, Mondavi and I had a little chat about what the term “precious cargo” was all about.

This was an unexpected moment for me, one I had not foreseen in the step up from the pony to the horse. Humbling, I must admit.

A few days later, I caught another horse mom who also rode as a teenager, yelling at her mother who was nervous watching her 8-year-old granddaughter canter around the ring. “Should she be doing that?” asked the Grammy. My friend the daughter yelled at her mother, “Oh Mom, stop!”

I immediately came to the grandmother’s defense. “Don’t talk to your mother like that! She is just making sure that your kid is safe!” Melissa laughed at me. In another minute, if she kept it up, we were going to be belly bucking it out. Fortunately, I was able to sooth that inner-lioness so Melissa was spared any physical harm.

I went and stood with the grandmother.

This post originally appeared on The Chronicle of the Horse web site.

The pony is gone. Dara is happily situated at EvenStride, and the girl visited her last weekend. I was not allowed to go, home with my Percoset, the broken hand deemed unprepared for a four-hour jaunt to Massachusetts.

Samantha went down with another horse show mom, Melissa, who spent the day with the EvenStride horse show secretary, learning the ins and outs of Show Pro, the software we will use at our 2010 Missy Ann Stables horse shows. The girl was able to ride Dara and chat with the kids who have been taking lessons on her. Dara is being appropriately coddled and spoiled—continuing to receive the princess treatment she has come to demand from the humans around her.

Mom is recovering from Dara’s departure. Due to work and the hand, I didn’t go to the barn for four days. It felt like longer. When I returned after the hand-bite drama, everything was different. I instinctively drifted over to the familiar stall where I was greeted by a lovely bay horse, rather than a demanding bay pony.

Read this post on The Chronicle of the Horse website.

Samantha was preparing for her first lesson on Mondavi, the horse we are now leasing. Had you asked me a year ago to describe a scenario where we would be able to lease the girl a horse like this, the only few I would be able to describe would involve winning the lottery without purchasing a ticket or the life insurance pay-out from my untimely demise. Horse karma brings all manner of unexpected experiences, this being the most pleasant of a lifetime.

Mondavi is a 16.2 hand, 14-year-old Dutch Warmblood gelding. His owner is Michelle Osgood, inventor and owner of One Knot Hairnet. Mondavi has been leased out to lucky girls throughout New England over the past seven or so years, and he has traveled up and down the east coast, stopping at every horse show along the way. A few years ago, Michelle considered retirement for Mondavi. She consulted a horse communicator who told her that Mondavi’s response was this: “Where’s my kid?” He knows his job is to mold young riders into sensitive, confident partners. He has no interest in going back to mom’s house. He added: “When’s the next show? Who is my next kid and when will she bring the treats? Mom, I don’t want you to ride me, go find me another kid!”

Samantha has loved Mondavi from the moment she met him. It’s not hard to understand the attraction. For starters, he’s gorgeous and his ego is rather, shall we say, enormous. I would count my blessing when Samantha would come home and tell me about how he could zip up her coat, and he would delight in doing it as many times as possible as fast as he could. When I was 12, I would have rather stuck a hot poker in my eye than talk to my mother about anything. Sorry Mom! I know, I know, many of you are saying “Oh you just wait!”

Mondavi is a combo of the handsome football player and the class clown. Unfortunately, Samantha’s wish comes true at the expense of another girl’s dream. A recent injury made Mondavi unsuitable for the three-foot show season that had been planned for him. This freed him up for Samantha to compete with him at 2’6” but left Samantha’s good friend heartbroken, making the entire experience bittersweet. As we all know, this is part of the horse life, and she and I have done our best to talk with her friend and her friend’s mom with respect and consideration for their feelings. Their search continues for a three-foot horse.

The husband and I watched in amazement as Samantha cantered around the ring on Mondavi. She was using Michelle’s saddle and had to lower the stirrup leathers two holes. She did not look like a squidget up there, her leg took up his side quite nicely, quite frighteningly. As they tentatively jumped their first few fences, then lines, as a team, a smile began to bloom on Samantha’s face. It stayed there for hours and remained well into the evening as she told me in detail all about it.