l.o.n.g.t.i.m.e.n.o.w.r.i.t.e.
So. Not a whole lot happening.
Um. . .
I had my birthday. Nothing exciting there. Just a small barbeque with very few people.
Um. Spent a couple days fixing our fence so we can put horses out there again. The horses showed up before the fence was finished. But they were sedated and too busy eating the waist high grass to care or doing any fence testing.
Their ex race horses, Thoroughbreds, ones a winner. Two sustained injuries. One is mine, one is Heather and the winner and only non-injured is Heather’s mom. Mine (Charlie) had a back injury and Heather’s (Elliot, who is just plain awesome and HUGE) was pinshot. Which is when the stick extremely hot thin pieces of metal in his front legs to deaden the nerves. But they both work fine.
They were all extra skinny and had a fungus when they got here. Bad feet. But no more fungus now, and they’re finally gaining some weight. Heather’s mothers (who is nameless, though we do call him Attila because he’s just like that) hurt himself, so he’s been stall bound. Idiot, was acting like a moron and cracked his hoof. It was all meaty. Bleck.
Um. The neighbor is an asshole. The other nieghbor also has an ex racing thoroughbred. He has a crooked knee (which actually made him an excellent racer until he pulled up lame, his name is Timmy. His name came from an old movie, They Call Me Mister Tim or something like that). So we all have Thoroughbred geldings. And Elliot is the only one who doesn’t think he still has balls.
Um. Um. Um.
Had a girls night in with Heather last week. Finally bought myself some alcohol. Woo. Still haven’t finished the stupid foo-foo drinks. They make my stomach hurt. I think Heather picked a nasty ass flavor. Also grabbed some of those big ole jaw breakers since I haven’t had one since I was a kid. The flavor I got doesn’t taste like a jaw breaker though, which just ruins the whole experience.
So. Really nothing much, other than my sister and mother holding up my ability to get tack for my horse since they have my saddle and won’t get back to me on the plans for it. Either they need to send it back, or pay me. And I don’t have their numbers.
Meanies.
Um. . .
I had my birthday. Nothing exciting there. Just a small barbeque with very few people.
Um. Spent a couple days fixing our fence so we can put horses out there again. The horses showed up before the fence was finished. But they were sedated and too busy eating the waist high grass to care or doing any fence testing.
Their ex race horses, Thoroughbreds, ones a winner. Two sustained injuries. One is mine, one is Heather and the winner and only non-injured is Heather’s mom. Mine (Charlie) had a back injury and Heather’s (Elliot, who is just plain awesome and HUGE) was pinshot. Which is when the stick extremely hot thin pieces of metal in his front legs to deaden the nerves. But they both work fine.
They were all extra skinny and had a fungus when they got here. Bad feet. But no more fungus now, and they’re finally gaining some weight. Heather’s mothers (who is nameless, though we do call him Attila because he’s just like that) hurt himself, so he’s been stall bound. Idiot, was acting like a moron and cracked his hoof. It was all meaty. Bleck.
Um. The neighbor is an asshole. The other nieghbor also has an ex racing thoroughbred. He has a crooked knee (which actually made him an excellent racer until he pulled up lame, his name is Timmy. His name came from an old movie, They Call Me Mister Tim or something like that). So we all have Thoroughbred geldings. And Elliot is the only one who doesn’t think he still has balls.
Um. Um. Um.
Had a girls night in with Heather last week. Finally bought myself some alcohol. Woo. Still haven’t finished the stupid foo-foo drinks. They make my stomach hurt. I think Heather picked a nasty ass flavor. Also grabbed some of those big ole jaw breakers since I haven’t had one since I was a kid. The flavor I got doesn’t taste like a jaw breaker though, which just ruins the whole experience.
So. Really nothing much, other than my sister and mother holding up my ability to get tack for my horse since they have my saddle and won’t get back to me on the plans for it. Either they need to send it back, or pay me. And I don’t have their numbers.
Meanies.