It’s a long story. . .

. . .but for many reasons, I really like this commercial.

Invoking Inigo Montoya, I will sum up:

I have loved horses for a lifetime. Every experience I have had with horses–yes, even the “bad” ones, and I’ve had a few or more–has been a great memory. Rode daily for quite some time. I even love the smell of horse manure, dealing with a “cow-kicker,” and wannabe “bucking bronco.” All good.

A client who raises miniature horses recently complained that I had undercharged her and asked if there were something more she could do for me. I said, “Sure. I want a horsie.” *heh* (She had previously mentioned a couple of “problem” horses she couldn’t “find homes for”.) Of course, I don’t have room for one where I now live, but every time I visit, the topic comes up again, and I get a chance to “visit” with at least one of her horses. Her stallion that stands stud for her mares and others (popular boyo) has come to me more easily than to her, for some reason. (Maybe it’s my attempts at “equine massage” that have him nearly comatose by the time I leave. Could be?)

Well, a guy’s gotta have a dream, doesn’t he? 🙂


4 Replies to “It’s a long story. . .”

    1. So, how are things in your neck of the woods, on the other side of the state?

      As to staying dry: pretty much. The wet weather creek behind us overflowed its banks and reached within a couple hundred feet of our back (basement) door, but never overcame its small “flood plain” (which is wooded *heh*). We still had the distance and about six feet of elevation, which still didn’t reach “100 year flood” levels. By about 2′ elevation. Was. . . interesting. The low water bridge about a quarter mile from our place was washed out. It’s been just six years since the last time it was. (I tried to tell the “city” the last time that they were doing it wrong. . . again. *shrugs* It’s been sinking for the past six years since it was rebuilt.)

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