Quote Originally Posted by Luci
Riding to the stable? Please tell me you are 25? I'm going to feel soooo guilty!
Well, the barn is on my way to work. It only makes sense. Will it disappoint you if I say I'm 20? I can play 25, just get me a few degrees and a nice job (goodbye poopy campground toilet-cleaning!) so I can afford the horse without living off of protein powder and bread in a basement furnace room complete with unlevelled concrete floor, no insulation, and a prime view of the aged exhibitionist from the crack house next door (I only wish I made all that up). Oh, student life.

PS, ladies, I'm completely not sold on the jerseys. I thought there was a particular reason to endure them aside from the material. You know, like protection in case of wipeout, super-human strength, ability to cause traffic collisions with blinding patterns, &tc. Safety wouldn't sell me anyway; I've got the indifferent scars from falls off horses in tank tops to prove it. No pain, no sweet racerback tan! I'll stick with my skimpy running tops, thanks! (Sleeves? What are sleeves?).

All this talk of cows and beer reminds me of home here in the farmland boonies of Southwestern Ontario. I go to a university affectionately known as "Moo U" and you'd better bet anyone with a pickup uses it for hauling (what is this suburban obsession with purposeless commuter trucks? Waste of a perfectly good vehicle that could pull me a horse trailer.)

My jumping instructor used to tell me to keep my heels down at all availible times. Especially during bike-riding. My Dressage instructor could care less about my heels. My horse thinks feet taste good.