Note to self: Don’t go to the gym to work out your legs the day before you go ride ever, ever again.
Went to see Kahlua yesterday. She’s so cute. I started brushing her first, which was not the order we usually do things in. She kept stomping her right hoof on the ground, so I finally put down the brush and grabbed a pick. She held up her right hoof so I could pick it out first and then I moved on to her other three before I went back to brushing her.
She’s smart, that one.
We walked out to the arena, and I got into the saddle. She’d trot. I’d post. She’d canter. I’d hold on as though my life depended upon it.
My trainer and I caught up while I walked Kahlua around the ring, giving both Kahlua and my sore thighs a break. My trainer’s got a new man. They met on a blind date. She’s got a little twinkle in her eye. Everything’s just clicking along…
But, they had a date last night and that morning she’d hurt her back lifting some jump poles. She was worried about canceling the date.
“Do you feel comfortable having him in your house?” I asked her, thinking that if he came over and took care of her while she’s hurt, he’d be a keeper.
“Oh, yeah. We talked on the phone for a month before we actually went out. He’s not some crazed killer.”
“Are you on a daily call basis?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Not too much. Not too little.”
“Tell him that you’re hurt and can’t make it out tonight.”
So she sent him a text, and he sent her a text right back offering to come over and take care of her.
Kahlua stopped right in front of where she was sitting just outside the ring, something she does at least once during every one of my lessons. I told the trainer, “She just adores you.”
“You know, she likes you.”
“It’s the apples,” I said, secretly pleased that this horse I’ve come to love likes me even a little.
“No, I think it’s because you don’t come out here and work her hard.”
Came home and walked Dog. I get really bored during these walks, so I called Josh to break up the monotony of Dog’s walk-walk-pause-sniff-pee-walk. I had sent him a text the night before, and in the morning found he had returned my text and called two of my three phone lines late last night.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he picked up.
“I’m driving home,” he said.
“I figured. Well, I’m walking the dog.”
“I figured,” he said back. “Did you know you only ever call me when you’re walking your dog?”
“I get bored,” I told him.
He just laughed and said, “I know you do.”
He’s getting ready for the big move home to New Orleans and into the arms his longtime girlfriend who lives there, and he’s worried that he’s not more excited about it. He doesn’t really want to leave Oregon, but the time and job is right for him to make the move south.
He told me that lately he wakes up in the morning thinking he doesn’t ever want to leave Portland, that he always wants to wake up right there.
So I asked him, “When you imagine waking up every morning in that bed in Portland, do you picture your girl lying next to you?”
He paused for a minute, thinking about it, before he told me, “No.”
And on that note, I changed the subject.
She’s smart, this one.