Don’t expect either coherence or brilliance today, as I feel like the walking dead. (Ok, so you shouldn’t expect either on ANY given day, to be honest.) Could not sleep last night, and so 3:30 found me still awake, reading, drinking scotch, knowing that my alarm was set to go off at 6:00. Boo hoo.
I think I caught a cold yesterday, from sitting in the cold waiting for Phil to pick me up at the stable. My throat hurts. I watched several of the small kids’ group riding lessons, and loved it. It brings back memories of being there myself, and also teaching my daughter to ride. Evil, shaggy ponies and small faces filled with concentration, joy and fear. There was one small, very fat little girl that could not get her pony to move, as she was too afraid to really give it a whack with the crop. The instructor kept telling her to give him a smack, and she’d lightly touch him with the end, which the pony ignored. Then it gets a wild hair and decides to take off at a canter (ok, a really fast pony scurry) and does two laps around the arena with the little fat girl whistling like a teakettle all the way around. He finally decides to stop, and her parents jump in and say “Oh, well done!” Girl: “Waaaaaaahhhhhh!!!” I laughed so hard my stomach hurt with trying to hold it all in.
Thank you for the poem, Phil. I’m sorry that I didn’t realise that you wrote this one for me. I’m dumb sometimes. That was sweet.