The weather continues to be weird.  The forecasters promise that we'll return to a glum, dreary January shortly and I can go back to blaming seasonal affective disorder for my mental fog.  Right now, though, we're breaking records.  High of 81 today, thanks.  Wore a short skirt to work to celebrate.

I don't have much horsie news to report.  I plan on doing a pretty in-depth review of one of the books I checked out of the library (so I can justify sharing the photographs I took of the pages without really feeling like a pirating jerk).  I've gone through some of the exercises with Archie and he seems agreeable.  At least, he doesn't seem like I'm screwing him up.  Maybe I can get the husband to take pictures while I put Archie through his post-ride stretches (while also getting photos on the Kid again that don't make me feel like a fat ass).

I have another book that I'll eventually review.  Maybe.  It's called "Fitness, Performance and the Female Equestrian."  When the tall, lithe dressage-riding Canadianne gave it to my short, stocky, whhhhaa?-riding self, I was immediately offended.  And jealous.  She was easily six feet tall and had super long, wrappable legs.  The book has been sitting on a shelf ever since.

Last night, prior to going home to change clothes and bust out a workout at the gym, I just stood in Archie's stall.  Breathed in his smell and rested my face on his flank while he narfed his beet pulp.  Good gut sounds, FTW.  I feel like a big part of my less-than-happy right now is that I'm not getting to spend adequate time with my horse.  I could make time, but everything comes with a sacrifice and I blame the shortened days.  I feel like everyone else right about now: too little time, too little funding, too much to do.  And too little that interests me.