My schedule got all shuffled this week, because my husband's schedule was all shuffled.  We go to the gym together three times a week, as it's been a priority of mine to support him throughout his weight-loss and fitness goals.  Dude, the statistics of separations as a result of one partner losing weight is enough inspiration for me to be encouraging.  I should know.  I left my ex after I lost 40 lbs.

Anyways, a jacked up gym schedule means a jacked up everything else.  Skipped Krav Maga to pick up heavy things and put them back down.  But it also meant that I got to see my horse last night, because I went to the gym on Wednesday.

I wish I'd taken more photos.

When I left my office, the sky was shining, the sun was blazing and the freaking birds were twerping.  In a beautiful gradiant of gray, the skies got alarmingly darker the closer I pulled to the city in which Archie lives.  By the time I hit his road, it was raining.

Fuck you, summer storms.

In lieu of putting on the breeches I'd packed, I just slipped on some sock and my rain boots.  I wish I'd taken a photo of this, specifically.  Because my skirt matched the sky but clashed with the boots.

I pulled Archie out of his pasture in the back 40, and proceeded to groom the ever loving snot out of him.  I'd requested a fan from the BM for the aisle, but didn't set it up because the wind was blowing so hard.  Since I didn't have anything else to do, and because he's muscled up some since starting the Purina SuperSport, I tested out my saddle's fit.  I'm still feeling pretty damn good about it.

Howdy, contact.

I wouldn't mind it being a hair wider.

Derp, derp.

Muscles.