Texans need the sunAnd it’s been raining for daysand days and days and… Rainy days make fora fresh gray baby hunterwith lots of feelings. Not to exclude him,I too have many feelings. Equestrian spazz. Watched taxidermy,didn’t get my coyotebut that’s for the best. Because now I neednew helmet, margarita– adult ammy life.
I’m not a hunter. This makes me a bit of a hypocrite, because I do eat meat. While I think I could raise a farm animal to for production, I doubt I could actually pull the trigger. I’m not against hunting. Some groups animals (looking at you white tail deer) need population control–just not from me. But I love taxidermy. That’s the simple version of why I currently have a tab open in my browser of day one of a…
Lucie is one of the quirkiest dogs I’ve ever owned. Her biggest quirk? Special treats. I’ve always heard that dogs buried bones, but I never saw it in real life. Every dog I’ve ever had has gratefully taken a special chew, treat, or bone and ran off with it to eat or chew to their heart’s delight. But not Lucie. If you give her a chew bone she will do one of three things with it: Delightfully throw it in…
Earlier this week when I recapped one of my recent lesson meltdowns, a commenter kindly asked if I wanted to keep riding. I thought about this very large question for about three seconds. Well, yes. Of course. I love riding. Almost everything about it. How tough it is. How there is always something to learn. The people I meet at the barn. The emotional bond I build with the horse. Being Simon’s person was one of the most defining relationships…
Though finding my body doesn’t work as well as it used to isn’t fun, there is a lot I love about approaching (are we allowed to say approaching at 36 or am I officially there?) my late 30s. Maybe my brain is finally fully cooked or maybe it’s sheer life experience, but does anyone else find basic problem solving just much easier these days? Tim used to have this one liner he dropped when he was fixing something or doing…
I really do try to keep the crazy amateur meltdowns to a minimum. Key word here being try. It’s not like I stomp around with a routine of high maintenance fits (at least I hope not, dear god, that’s not a good look). But a few things trigger me into meltdown territory: when I worry about my horse, and when I feel like I’m letting everyone down. Last week, it was the second. Since moving to the new barn and…
I’ve always had a solid internal clock. From my childhood through college, I religiously wore a watch. It was one of those clothing items that I felt naked without. When I got my first smart phone and that became the item that our entire society can’t live without, the watch got phased out. Maybe that’s why I am usually aware of the passing hours. Tim would ask me a lot what time it was when we were out running errands…
I have some more complex, kind of dark, and meaningful thoughts spinning in my head right now. But they’re not ready for public consumption. So let’s talk about something else–tucking your shirt in. And if your first question is, “Um… why?” know that this isn’t really about shirts. It’s about bellies. For years, I would never ride without my shirt tucked in and a belt. It was part of my “If I don’t look the part I am not enough”…