This blog is doing exactly what the other one did, only much faster. The other one took something like four years before I finally gave up on it. This is the seventh post on this blog, and they're already months apart. Shame on me.
So my exciting news of late has pretty much involved horsey dearest. Yesterday, we were having a ball working in the arena. Except that that's a lie. Neither of us was having much fun at all. She wanted to go back outside to see her friend (and told me so frequently with an incredible amount of decibles), and I wanted her to trot around me in circles and learn to stay. She won our little squabble by quite literally running over the top of me. Somehow, and I completely acredit this to a miracle, I didn't get stepped on. Just kicked about three times. My shoulder is now a massive bruise so bad that I can't even touch it, and my right leg, just above the knee is one huge knot. She must've clipped my head a bit too, 'cause I definitely could not see straight for a little while afterwards.
But the kicker of this whole thing (if you'll pardon the pun) is that not even half an hour before this happened, I had donated blood, and they sent me off with the warning "No strenuous activity or heavy lifting for the rest of the day". And that was seriously running through my mind as I watched a bunch of horse hooves run over the top of me. That, and "Why doesn't Connie make us wear a helmet whenever we touch a horse!?". Clarity wasn't exactly a strong point right then.
And then, right after I had gotten that cow back in her paddock, I went to help Connie throw hay. No heavy lifting my foot. Six one hundred pound bales. Ha. Ha. Ow.
