To Save My Eaten-Up Paycheck…
I’ve embarked on a task for this week, a task that is so gargantuan that I don’t think God would undertake it without consulting the Pope. I’ve decided to meander about the farm looking for suitable horse blankets for my pony.
Unfortunately, this journey has led me to cross paths with only one blanket that looks like it might cover even a portion of his body. It is an old blanket from my mother’s favorite horse, a Hanoverian named Martin who was even bigger than Zydo.
I’m a sucker for the big boys, and I typically am only attracted to guys who are much, much larger than me. Its just one of those things; like, if I were to fall down the stairs on top of a boy I’m dating? I totally don’t want my heft to break both his legs. The same is true of my horses. I’ve always loved horses who are bigger, who are sturdy and sound. I feel less guilty hiking my big ol’ butt on to their backs if they look like they have what it takes to support me.
So far in my travels on the farm I’ve found six blankets, a wasp nest, the remains of what looks like a family of mice, and several spiders (All of which were as large as one of my hands AND which looked like they had teeth. Fangs, even. Fortunately, I’m on a farm. Spider-killing implements are always at the ready.)
ONE blanket looks like it will fit my pony, and only if I give it a good makeover with a needle and thread. Oddly enough? It was the first blanket I found.
All that spider killing, wasted.
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