Santa Baby


Slip a bridle under the tree, for me.
Been an awful good girl, Santa Baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa Baby, a set of polo wraps too,
Light blue,
I’ll wait up for you dear, Santa Baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Think of all the riding I’ve missed,
Think of all the ponies that I could have kissed,
Next year I could be just as good,
If you’ll check off my Christmas list,

Santa baby, I wanna hot
Bit warmer, really that’s not a lot,
Been an angel all year,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa honey, there’s one thing I really do need,
The deed
To a platinum mine,
Santa honey, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a Duett,
And checks.
Sign your ‘X’ on the line,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Come and trim my horse’s fetlocks
With some clippers bought at,
I really do believe in you,
Let’s see if you believe in me,

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,
Some bling
For my leather tack
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry, tonight.

As I write, Roy is learning one of the best things about having a horse in the family.  After all my sleepless nights lying awake worrying about what kind of disasters Huey is creating out in the paddock or in his stall at that very moment…after all the mornings and days of “Sorry, darling, I can’t, I have to meet the [farrier/chiropractor/vet/dentist] at the barn”…after all the sudden attacks of guilt where I’m overcome by feelings of Bad Motherhood because I’ve scarpered off for a Romantic Getaway…and so, so much more…he’s hitting the High Point of the Horse Husband Experience:

Never being at a loss for what to give for a holiday present, ever again.

It’s so easy when there’s a horse in the family.  You give presents for the horse.  Not to the horse, because for the most part, the horse doesn’t give a flip about anything other than apples, carrots, grass, getting a good solid butt scratch now and then, and impressing the other horses.

For the horse.  Alternative medicine for the horse.  Extra training.  Riding lessons.  Blingy headstalls.  Embroidered halters.  Monogrammed saddle pads.  Fancy blankets. Riding clinics. Fancy sheepskin lined boots.  Monogrammed hay nets. Tack trunks.  Saddle covers. Engraved grooming kits.  Lighted hoof picks.   Tellingly, the big online tack store websites have links to “gifts” – links that send you to a page of Licky Things, Hanging Balls, Squeezy Buns, and other treats for the horse to eat.  Special balls you can use to torment your horse by sticking treats into it.

Then there’s stuff for riding.  Coats for riding your horse in the rain.  Clogs and wellies for stamping around the barn.  Custom boots.  Leather riding gloves. Books.  Books on training.  Books with games to play with the horse.  Books on horse health.  Books on spring/summer/winter care of the horse.  The Big Book of Fantasy Barns.  Books on horse massage.  Books on horse fitness exercises.  The Super Golden Book of Breeds.  Picture books of foals.  Pony Club manuals.  Books with fifty different ways to braid your horse’s mane and tail. Zen horsemanship.  How Hooves Work. There are entire bookstores just dedicated to horse books.  No kidding.  I found one in Maine this summer.

Then there’s all the other Horse Related Stuff.   Horse art.  Horse jewelry.  Horse-head-shaped door-knockers for the house.  Horse prints, horse t-shirts, hooked rugs with horse designs.  DVDs of “Buck,” “Secretariat,” “National Velvet,” and “War Horse”…not to mention approximately 1,275,000,000 training videos to troubleshoot your every difficulty with the horse on the ground, under saddle, and assessing all of the strange and awful health problems your horse might develop.

It’s virtually endless!

Santa Baby, there’s one thing I really do need,
The deed
To a platinum mine…


About Lori Holder-Webb

I'm a Southern Woman by birth and a Texan Woman by upbringing...and yet I find myself living in New England and married to a New York City boy. Up here we use the same currency as we do at home, and I don't need to travel with a passport, but the commonalities pretty much end there. The language is different, the jokes are different, the people are different, and the weather and terrain sure are different too. I moved away from Texas in 2002, and ever since then, I've been the stranger in the strange land... I've had some questions about the name of the blog - if you were not alive, or living abroad or under a rock, or in grad school during the late 1980s, Oldsmobile attempted to shuck its stodgy image with a series of commercials intended to bring brand appeal to the younger generation: this car, they said, is not your father's Oldsmobile. If you have a morbid curiosity, hit YouTube for William Shatner will take you right there.

2 responses »

  1. All for the horse, of course, of course. 😉 But remember, too, to “hang a shining star upon the highest bough”… this year and every year. Sorry, just got caught up for a moment in “Meetin’ In The Middle” nostalgia. I’ll be okay. *sniff*

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