I should really post on the weekends because I have too much shit to say on Monday.

On Friday, I did a little ride.  We've been struck by cold (and yes, I think it is legitimately cold), which means the ground is harder and arthritic joints hurt more.  So on Friday, we just walked with a tiny, tiny bit of trot.

Saturday.... Uh.  I remember the ride.  What else did we do?  Oh!  So, we were going to go to the gym so I could sit in on that pilates class I took a few weeks ago, but I remembered that there was an "ultimate yard sale" going on, so we drove out to that.  It was a waste of the $2 it cost for us to enter.

Then it was on to the gym, where I started lifting again but any desire to do anything hard had vanished.  How can I be so bone-weary for so long?  We ran a few errands and had lunch, then he went to play with his guitar and I went to the barn.

It was freezing and windy and neither of us were enjoying it much.  I wanted to stay consistent and work on downward transitions, which was fine tracking left.  Tracking right, it was all I could do just to get him going forward and not bucking or hollowing or scooting.  He didn't feel amazing, but I could push him into something a little better.  I'm sure he was uncomfortable, but I didn't want him to think that being an asshole was a good excuse for getting out of work, so I worked really hard on bending that shoulder.  As soon as I felt that we had done enough, I called it quits and fed copious amount of carrots and did a ton of stretches.  It was still cold so, even thought BO had left both the horses naked, I put his sheet back on.

Yesterday, I slept too late.  I immediately went out to the barn, but it was another frigid windy day and I wasn't in the mood for a fight.  We did an extra-long walking warm up, a single lap of trot and a single lap of canter, both directions.  Then I took him out to show him the new water pump and we walked to the road and back.  BO's ex-husband's dog, Muddy My Buddy, followed.

Since the high yesterday was only going to be 50, with wind, I put his sheet back on even though, yet again, BO had left him naked.

Then the husband and I went to get lunch and take photos at the Humane Society.  He dropped me off for our first official soccer game of the season (we won!) (okay, so they had no subs and we have a gnarly new forward) while he read over the mortgage contract.  He's getting burnt out on this housing process and then I had the misfortune of reminding him that if the house didn't meet our expectations at the inspection, we'd be going through almost all of this again.  After soccer, mexican.

This morning, I fed.  I have a nickname for BO on facebook, "CBL", which stands for Crazy Barn Lady.  Well, she has a friend who I call CBL's Crazier Friend.  The same chick who told me that bleach was awesome for frogs, that algae was a compliment to the water trough ("We had at the barn I grew up at and we never cleaned that thing.  None of those horses got sick!"), and that radiographs of her mare's leg resulted in uterine cancer.

I guess she thought that I fed Sunday morning and was all in a huff that Skinny Guy wasn't wearing a sheet.  So I left a note back.  I could have been meaner.  (I was just thinking.. this is as close to barn drama as I get.)  I was sorta in a huff that she put my horse's almost-too-small blanket over his considerably larger sheet.  Lazy.

This makes no sense, right?

My ideal situation:  rough board with a private pasture, place to keep feed and tack, and access to trails and/or a ring.  Limit the opportunity for idiots to fuck up my horse.