I opted not to ride on Friday, because it was even hotter than Thursday.  Instead, Archie and I hung out and drank cheap beer.

It was disgusting, but so, so cold.

And we can see the elusive Thoroughbred, resting in the breeze of his stall fan.

Saturday, my lazy ass actually set an alarm.  I rode for about half an hour, trying to take things easy for the old man, and was off his back by 9:45.  I don't know if it's because he hasn't been asked to canter in three weeks or if he was feeling particularly exuberant, but those freaking walk-canter transitions were explosive.

Raccoons!

Brown and black.  It's a theme.

Because I had been so overachieving in the morning, D and I were able to do fun stuff for the rest of the day.  I'm lying.  We did the same shit we always do:  gym, lunch, shopping, a treat and home.  But we were able to watch a movie before going out to dinner.

I couldn't talk myself into rousing when the alarm went off on Sunday.  I meandered out to the barn and didn't really get on him until noon.  Fortunately, it was a shit ton cooler and there were some nice breezes.  The BO was dragging the ring while I rode, so we did laps around the outside of the ring and through the grass.  We had to talk a little bit about those canter transitions and the Kid got super pissed off about getting the right lead.  Pro-tip:  if I ride like I know what I'm doing (how long, again, have I been doing this?), Archie is 800 times more likely to do whatever it is I'm asking for than if I sit there and think really hard at him.

Derp derp.

We went on a walk to the river afterwards.  Dude spent three weeks off, had his turnout halved, and is just a fucking superstar.  I don't feel like he's lost much fitness and he certainly still has his brains.  I returned to the barn with my feet kicked out and my arms in the air, catching the breeze.  I love this horse.