"Mean Mom"



After an absurdly long time trying to get out of the parking deck, I made it home later than normal last night.  I'm not sure what the hold up was and I'm one of those sticklers that pisses off everyone else - I won't let people going the wrong way cut me off.  I will ram your vehicle with my POS fifteen year old Subaru.  Roar.

Anyways, got home at about the same time as husband but ended up with dog duty anyways.  They're mine, I accept it.  He's a horrible dog step-father.  :)  By the time that was done, the weather was checked, the outfit changed, I was about fifteen minutes later than normal to the barn and deathly afraid that BO had already fed.  Fortunately, she hadn't but she was in the process.

Okay, already, I'm feeling like crap for not wanting to really ride and for, somehow, riding this guy so much and yet not enough.  Then she feeds her horse and asks a hundred times if Archie's going to be okay with that.  I don't think she's caught on:  he does not have the option to be anything but okay with it.  Horses aren't allowed to be little shits when they don't get their way.  They just aren't.  We'd all die.

And then she tells Archie that I'm a "mean mom" for riding him instead of just giving him his dinner.

Mother.  Fucker.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

The actual ride was okay.  He was spooky again when the sun started to set.  To focus that brain, I got him collected and did a sit-trot through a sorta tight figure-eight on an incline.  Lots of bend.  It was hard for me, too.  And in the midst of that, the old guy who lives near the meadow hit something as he was coming down the dirt road next to the pasture that I ride in.  So Archie had a little meltdown and I screamed "thanks!" at the guy.  I felt bad about it afterwards, but at least I didn't flick him off.  Damn the cold weather and frisky ponies.

Speaking of which, I sewed up Archie's sheet the other night and put that beast on last night.  I can't say that he was impressed, but when it was 40º-something this morning, I'm sure he appreciated it.  I had to scramble to sew the rip in the blanket last night.  I'm still planning on ironing on a water-proof patch because he ripped that one all the way through.  There was also a safety pin stuck in it.  I don't remember doing that.  It doesn't mean that I didn't, because my memory sucks, but I'd like to think that I wouldn't use a safety pin on something that's going to be directly next to my horse's body for an unsupervised twelve hours or so.

Zombie Horse.
Other stuff:

I'm entering an art show through my job for some of my photos.  I can only pick two and I think I have better odds if they're something people generally like (unlike, say, my horse or my dogs).  I narrowed it down to four photos and I think I've picked the winners.  Now I have to decide how I'm going to present them.  I've been looking at this website that has pretty cheap canvas prints and also is running 20% off until tomorrow, with flat-rate shipping ($13).



First choice.

Second choice.
Kittens continue to be monsters.  Last night they were unleashed upon the downstairs, while I sat with the dogs - on leashes.  Achilles actually climbed Savannah.

Lizzie Borden on left, Ares on right.

Scar and Achilles.
Savannah and Aphrodite.
Achilles looking at home.
Tonight, I run.  I've got to figure out clothing for the half.  I was just planning on wearing a tank top, because it hadn't been that cold, but now it's bitterly chill in the morning.  Boo.

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