I had this brief hope that the farrier heard my pleas and snuck in, like last time, to reattach the shoe.  Alas, he did not.  So, I took the Kid on a hand-walk around the property with my camera.  He was pretty good until we had to go by the rooster and squeeze between the jalopy and the tree line.  Then it was all snorts and stupidity and having to check his jigging self.  I think I got some okay photos.  Nothing was amazing.

BO walked up while I was there, looking like death warmed over.  I sent her back to her house and fed the horses myself.

I was laying in bed at about 9:30 when the chiropractor called.  I wasn't expecting her to call until about 11, to let me know what time to meet her, but she said that her plans had been changed and asked if I could meet her then.  So, I threw on some clothes and put the husband on dog duty and ran to the barn.  I was still cleaning his hooves when she pulled up.

His hocks were pretty stiff when I was picking up his feet, so I spent a few minutes walking him out in a few circles, trying to get things warmed up.  I also told her that he lost a shoe in the storm.  Her response?  "What does the storm have to do with losing a shoe?"

I thought that was obvious.

Then I had to explain to her, again, that the Kid was occasionally a nut case.  I mean, are horses generally nonchalant about bad weather?  I thought that's where the expression "a wind up his tail/butt" came from.

Again, she complimented all the stuff we'd been doing, reaffirmed that I was still taking the right steps with him, etc. She berated me a little more about waiting three months to call her, but when I asked when to recheck, she said "One to three months."  So I don't know what that's about.

The stretches we've been doing are showing.  She told me that "at his age", he's not going to increase his flexibility by a whole lot.  I responded:  it's pony yoga.  He'll get there.

After the visit, I went home and cleaned up a bit.  Then the husband and I went to this super awesome, super tiny, super popular restaurant for lunch.  It was before noon and we still had to wait fifteen minutes to be sat.    It's called the Green Truck.  We bring our own ketchup because they make theirs and it's the only gross thing in the place.

Allagash White.

Super fancy, super tasty quesadilla.

Veggie burger with roasted red peppers, goat cheese, carmelized onions, and basil leaves. And homemade potato fries and a homemade pickle.  Real ketchup, though.

Ironically, the sponsor for the Farmer's Market was the Green Truck.

We then went downtown to Forsyth and walked around the Farmer's Market.  It was pretty tiny, but I saw a million things that I wanted to buy:  fresh eggs, fresh cheese, fresh vegetables.  Then we crossed the street to go to the Brighter Day, our "natural" store.  It's over-priced and constantly crowded.  This was also the first time that we've been in there when they had the deli open, so we got smoothies.  We'll be going back next week because, again, a million things I wanted and zero monies to buy them with.

Rugby.

My husband, the dork, told me that this was "Live Action Role Playing."

Just some of the bulk bins at Brighter Day.

The Loot.

Went to Ross and bought the dogs new beds.  Savannah likes to dig them, so there has been fluff all over the apartment for the past couple of weeks.  This time (since I know these things are transient), I picked purple.

We vegged out at the apartment for a couple of hours.  Recovering from food and shopping and being around people.  He asked what I wanted to do, so my choice was to take the dogs to Skidaway Island and let them walk the nature trail.  It's this neat little mile-long trail next to UGA's aquarium.  Open to the public.  When we pulled up, some douche had his two dogs off leash and I had to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting one of them.  I gave the classic "WTF?!" arm expression (not to be confused with the "Fuck you!" hand expression) and the guy just gave me a blank stare.  

The girls enjoyed themselves and were all pant-y and tired when we were done.  They slept the rest of the night.

Pant-y.

Dinner was at a Japanese restaurant that we'd never been to before.  All parts of it were excellent, except for the teenage boys sitting behind me and having a loud discussion about sex.  Virgins, the lot of them.

Cucumber roll.

I tried (and failed) to capture the steam from the hot saki.

Me and my giant man hand, with the stupid teens behind me.

Vegetable tempura.

Fish!  Husband!  Fish!

Liquor store next door.

After froyo, it was Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part two.

Soup at the Atlanta Bread Company followed by photographing kids.  It's always the luck of the draw as to who is going to be helping me with the dogs.  Some of them are really good and really helpful, others just .. stand there.  I'm getting better about asking them to direct the dogs into certain positions or to angle themselves in certain ways.  It's a learning process.

After the Humane Society, we went to the gym.  I'm officially reaching my threshold in all of my exercises.  We don't have micro-plates for the barbell, so the lowest I can do is a 2.5 pound difference on either end (total 5 pounds).  I think reaching my limit would have taken longer if I'd had access to a 1.25# plate.

And, after the gym, we went to drive around and look at houses.  This is where the day started to go downhill.  Decisions are hard for either of us to make, so we both get really frustrated when the other person won't state an opinion or desire.  I didn't feel like getting out of the car to look at a house, but he couldn't articulate that he wanted to look at the house, so it ended up being a small argument.  

The rest of the day unfolded with stuff like that until we wisely went to separate rooms for a few hours.  A breather.