Virtual Brush Box

Frankly, I think it would be easier to use the truck. But I’m not the mechanic who has to get the truck started.

~~~
End of the month State of the Blog covered mid-month, Sine Die … Or Not. Previous S of B posts listed here.

We all know Caveat Emptor. Google says lector = reader.

At the end of last week, I had a long talk with Coach about the rest of the fall show season. I gave her right of refusal, given the current scrambled state of my psyche. I offer you the same deal.

I’ve been in a mood. You may have noticed. Not likely to change soon. On the other hand, it’s not fair that you suffer through problems not of your making. Options:

1) We part company temporarily. Go enjoy other blogs. Saddle Seeks Horse just bought a new horse. Then, come back in a month or three when I am likely to be less Eeyore & more Pinkie Pie.

B) Keep reading but know that you will have to deal with a higher occurrence of neurotic meltdowns. I will attempt to be entertaining, but whining will transpire.

Coach elected to endure the drama. Apparently, the things that give me agita are also the things that make me who I am. Far too generous. Personally, I’d chose door number one if there was any possible way to manage it. (Does anyone else want to get away from themselves. Just for a break? Or is that part of what makes me who I am? But I digress.)

So, I will continue to show and continue to blog. I don’t promise to be a ray of sunshine about either one.

You have been warned.

A common alpha-numeric conversion getting less common every day.

Hint: Where are O & N the same? Answer

The attempt was fall foliage colors. Again in GIMP.

Today’s subject is not about horses. For more non-equine subjects, see my other blog, Off Topic. Rodney’s Saga returns to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

I suspect I upset my Amtrak seatmate once upon a time.

First, a little backstory: When I was a teenager, I looked younger than my age by many years. In one instance, I was visiting a breeding farm. The barn manager explained to me about the “mommy horses” and the “daddy horses” and the “baby horses.” I thought he was simple-minded. He thought I was too young to understand reproduction.

In another instance, a stewardess stared at me with great consternation when she saw that I was flying alone. She thought I was an unaccompanied munchkin. She instructed me to wait for her when the plane landed. Sure. Fine. She came back later with a confused look and asked how old I was. I told her. She said I was free to debark on my own recognizance.

Apparently, I did not exude an air of gravitas and maturity. End backstory.

So there I was, 14 years old but looking 9 at the oldest. This train was nothing new to me. One parent in New York City and one parent in Washington DC equaled much time shuttling back and forth. Shortly before the moment in question, I had moved from living with my mother (NYC) to living with my father (DC). I was slowly adapting to the new routines. This was the first weekend I had gone back to visit my mother.

A gentleman sat down next to me on the crowded train. He asked, conversationally, about my trip.

Well, it was Sunday night. I was going home. Which meant NYC. But I just came from there. Why was I leaving? I was going to DC. Why was I doing that? I was usually coming from DC on Sunday night. Hmmm. I’m either going to DC or NYC. One of the two. Was the train traveling north or south? I gave up and asked,

“Which way is the train heading?”

He probably thought I was a run-away. He did not speak to me again.

OT 7.14.14

A straight-up indulgence. The goal is to wear them only in the show ring, take them off immediately after each class, and resell them through Commotion when I am done equitating.

Goal!

After putzing about for the summer, I had dropped my weight from 160 to 158. Bleh. We – the culinary we – got serious at the beginning of August. The objective was 5 pounds a month. The method was straight-up calorie count. My in-house nutrition advisor doesn’t hold with variety diets. It all turns into the same sludge in the end. The question is how one wishes to ingest those calories.

He feels the problem with sugary foods is not any inherent evil, but that it is so easy to snarf down way too many calories in one go. A few weeks ago, someone brought glazed donuts to fire meeting. I had two. I was appalled when I got home to find out that I had inhaled a dinner’s worth of calories (380) in under a minute.

Daily allotment was 1500 calories a day. Three meals totaled 900 to 1000 calories. Daily doses of o.j., V8, & cranberry juice came to 200. That left me ~300 calories to play with. Some days it was Gatorade & raisins. Most days it was Coke. Despite my brave words back in April [Motivation], I still can’t shake the red can habit.

I had a few days under 1500, a few days over 1500, and one or two days way over. The overall trend was downward and under 2000 calories. Of course, this works best if one has a personal chef who is willing to make tasty 300-calorie meals.

Oddly, before swimming I weighed 150.1. The photo was taken after swimming, dry, with slightly damp hair. The body absorbs half a pound of chlorinated pool water? Creepy.

What does this have to do with horses? The entire drive behind the body modification was so that I could button my show vest and not look like a sausage in my jods.