Rockstar

Wednesday, I violated my "Boycott Barn Wednesdays" rule and headed out to the barn.  You know, since it was fugly on Monday.

It was a little bareback ride that I wish I had captured in photographic permanence.  Me, with a cat-hair-covered top and work capris, ended with my stunningly mismatched paddock boots and knee-high blue snowflake socks.  Him, grumpy and still a touch dirty with a giant boo-boo on his nose, marring his perfection.

Normally, this gross crustiness is accompanied by swelling.
The only significant part of the ride was when I dismounted in the front pasture to clean up fallen branches and subsequently spooked my horse to the point that he trotted back to the barn, snorting with a flying tail.  Goober.

Last night, I attended the yoga class that my friend teaches.  We did the most advance move we've done to date:  the rockstar.  Needless to say, I didn't feel very famous.  But... someone did compliment me on my posture today, so I guess this stuff is working!
Rockstar.
(Not me.)
((I wish my stomach looked like that.))
Tonight, I hope to get a ride in.  The weather can't decide if it wants to rain or if it wants to wait.  Tomorrow, my new neighborhood is having a community yard sale and we're going to walk the dogs over.  Lots of little things planned for the weekend - should be nice.

My hair actually isn't in a ponytail.  "Gale force winds."


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