Not dead

No, really. I'm still around though the meager amount of blogging the last two months would lead some to believe otherwise.

The choice comes down to writing about the ponies versus spending time with the fuzzy, quirky ponies and you all know what I'd rather do. Or at least what will (eventually) make the best blog fodder. There will be no stories without horse slobber and there will be no horse slobber without horse time, so.. much less blogging has ensued.

Out would be really good, k? Thanks. 

On the plus side, the horses are all doing well. Dixie is a few more days (ten, she says--anxiously counting down) from a paddock. Not a stall. A paddock. With room to wander and cause trouble and likely pester her soon-to-be-overprotective friend Calabar.

Cash and his dorky friend

Cash has been adopted and once he has had all his required vaccines, he will be on his way to Travis AFB to a family who will no doubt spoil him rotten. He says he can handle that burden.

Lena asked me to take her out tonight, but I was out of time. Steve intends to do some spotty horse dancing tomorrow, though, so Miss Lena should feel a little less neglected.

Forrest is quite happy in his very large wooded paddock, accosting walkers, joggers, bikers and baby carriages on the bike path that runs behind him.

If kisses were carrots...

Calabar? Calabar says there is never enough attention. Or carrots. Not necessarily in that order. He should hear how often someone comments on the photo of him I have behind me at work. "He's so handsome!" "Yes, he is," I beam.

And someday I will get back to writing about him and all the other fine ponies in my life on a more regular basis.