He called me from far off in the mountains, stranded, with his bicycle.
My husband. Of course I’d go and get him. He’s a really good guy.
Soaked, crusty and dehydrated myself from a long run, I had to throw on some clothes, grab a bottle, instruct the pouting 10-year old to fix up something quick for himself as lunch to bring in the car, and head out to rescue the bicyclist.
Long winding road, ending in Pilot Hill. (Yes, there are horse properties to gawk at on the way up at least.) 10-year old finally threw up during the ride down, three times, in the parking lot at Falcon Crest.
A lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
With hubby safe at home, I announced I’d be shopping for tack right away. As a punishment. It seemed like the right thing to do. Of course you get the immediate logic in this.
So, a little Happy Mouth Loose Ring Shaped Mullen Mouth is in the tack room now…
It doesn’t really get any milder than this, and it can be a great bit for a young horse. I hope she’ll like it.
Next time he’s stuck, perhaps some new Fleece Boots. These here, recently spanking new, already look tattered.