Yesterday I held 18 horses for the farrier. Too bad there isn’t a farrier school nearby. Closest one is down in Blacksburg, I think. Then I scrubbed four water tanks, dragged the ring and sent some bills and checks to Gerry. Moneymoneymoney!! Good stuff. (Hey, anyone remember that song “I want to be rich?” It was – OH (insert your own deity)! – from the eighties, I think. Suddenly feel very old.) Yep, I managed to get Dave sponsored through his recovery as Jane really wants him. (Oh yeah, Dave’s real name is Poirot, but I got tired of explaining. Hercule Poirot. Agatha Christi. Doesn’t anyone read anymore? And then no one could pronounce it. I, being a French major, had no problems of course. So I call him Dave, after my rockin’, uh, signifigant other I guess you call it nowadays. But that’s another story.)
And then I had to go meet Kristi at the clubhouse because the office flooded and we had to clean up. My riding buddy is still on the injured reserve list, but should return Monday. I’ve got two High School seniors think about interning with me and doing their senior papers on TRF.
But here’s what I really wanted to tell you: Swing Street is going out on the town tonight! Yep, her foxhunting debut. I think she’ll be smashing, but if you don’t hear from me for a bit, you will know what got smashed.