Farm

Part of me really wants to live on a farm someday. Part of me knows I hate manual labor.

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I was pleasantly surprised last night that I remembered how to ride a horse, and how to use a hoof pick, and that it's not nearly so difficult to put a saddle and bridle on a horse when the leather is clean and it's not 25 degrees outside.

Banjo, being the crotchety old man that he is, did try to kill me a few times. I'd get one foot in the stirrup and he'd walk away from the mounting block. I think, if it had been recorded, that we could win $10,000 on America's funniest home videos. What's that saying? The definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result? I'd position the mounting block below the stirrup, climb up, get my left foot in, and Banjo would start walking. I'd extricate my foot, jump off the block, move it over, and start again. If horses could laugh, Banjo would have.

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My syllabus is finished and photocopied, so I'm technically ready for school to start. But really, I could use about another six weeks of vacation.