After having had four days off, Archie was a little pistol last night.  We went on a little walk to the river after working briefly and he chomped at the bit the entire time, prancing on his toes and twitching when frogs jumped.  The benefit to all this energy was that his canter transitions were the best sort of explosive.  I felt that outside hind come underneath and just pound the ground and propel us upwards.  Yay for fitness.

I'm sure my laughter could be heard at the shot-gunner's house.

Three of the days, I didn't even see my little wonder pony.  I don't like going that long without seeing him.  It's part of a ramped up anxiety and part of a complacency.  I don't want to ever get accustomed to not spending time with him.

One day, I had krav maga.  I woke up with a raging headache that morning and it lingered in the back of my head most of the day, only to fuck me over when it came time to practice hammer strikes.  Something is wrong somewhere with my form because I shouldn't be able to feel the impact resonating in my skull.  ..I just thought I was really strong.  :)

Another day, I had Zumba.  Here's to naughty dance moves in a darkened room full of overweight, sweaty and enthusiastic women.

On Independence Day, the hubs and I opted to go to the beach.  We didn't want to go to our local beach, Tybee, because it's small and has a shit-ton of traffic and never has enough parking spaces.  We'd thought about going to Folly Beach in Charleston, simply because we've never been there.  But Google told us the traffic sucked and that it only had one way in.  Finally, we decided on Hilton Head.  We had an absolute blast and the water was perfect.

Hi.  I'm going to brag for a moment.  My husband, my dear, sweet ginger husband, might just be the hottest fucking guy on the planet.  Which begs the question:  how the fuck did I get so lucky?

Dorks.

SmartPak sandals.

When I finally saw my Pony on the fourth day, it was thundering and lightning.  I had been optimistic and wore my breeches, but no luck.  Shortly after I pulled him in to the aisle, it started pouring.

I opted to pull his mane instead.

So, for 20-plus years, I've always thought that the little aluminum combs were it.  All a respectable horsewoman could use on a willing horse.

But I lost mine.  I'm thinking maybe I thought about taking it home to engrave, but never... did?

Then I thought I would try one of my regular combs.  Nailed it.

This.  Just not as pretty anymore.

Started in the middle to see if it made a difference.

Nope.  By the time I got to the top, he was a little shit.