Wow. It's a blog. It's supposed to be a dressage blog.
First of all, mad props to my dear friend S., who is the inspiration. I'm not copying! It's just that you had a really, really good idea - and you have a delightful way of writing - and that got me thinking.
And now on to the complaining, which is why we're here, after all. Isn't that why you're reading? "Come sit by me," as the lady said. Why, I'd be delighted, Ms. Parker.
It's hot out. It's really, really hot. And humid. Good for the skin, bad for the motivation.
This is supposed to be a dressage blog. But I can't bring myself to saddle my poor old beasts when the heat index is up around 8 bajillion. All right, 8 bajillion is an exaggeration; it's more like 2 bajillion. The Weather Channel says it's 85 out / feels like 90, but it feels worse. And they're not measuring for "running around on top of a white-sand arena."
Today's training blog entry will probably be like yesterday's would have been, had it been written. "Went to barn, gave Kitten Chow to kittens, caught elderly horse stealing Kitten Chow from kittens, put supplements in feed buckets, adjusted fly masks, considered riding, wrung out sweaty shirt and baseball hat from the Santa Fe public radio station ... reconsidered riding."
No, really. I'm strapping on the Superspecial Indestructible, And Yes They Fit Really Well, Rangers de l'Armee Francaise barn boots and trudging off now.
