This is so random, but I wanted to share:  I thought about getting a German word tattooed when I went to DC.  But the more-practical-and-possibly-more-intelligent husband advised against getting foreign words (that I can neither say nor spell) tattooed on my body by a stranger.  Touché, husband.

So I dreamt I got a fox on my right thigh.  And the old foxhunter in me is thrilled.

When I got to the barn last night, I recognized my vet's SUV pulled up to the barn aisle.  Never a good sign.  I questioned BM's kid, who said that it was sort of chaotic but that everyone was fine.  Vet said hi to me by name, waved, and left.  I still don't know what was going on.

I changed, grabbed my camera and the Kid, taking some horrible photos.  I think he's getting ribby.  I'm going to request that his Senior feed get upped and I'm also going to start him on Gleam & Gain 60.  It's got good reviews and no mention of added energy.  I know he's slow, but I don't want him hot.

It was another day that I knew the BM would be having a lesson and the sky was also all sorts of grumbly.  We worked a lot on cantering until I told him to stop and meeting the contact at both the canter and the trot.  Legs stayed long, butt stayed near the saddle.  I finished by walking him around in his old pasture, asking for both the trot and the canter.

After cooling him out, loading all of his tack in my car to be cleaned tonight, and feeding him, I took him to the pasture.  And then I drove home through a fucking monsoon.