Today was one of those days when I was really afraid I'd end up with prune boobs.
You know how, when you've been in the bath too long, your fingers turn into prunes? Today I was constantly and thoroughly awash with sweat; my bra absorbed liquid until the girls were sitting in their own private little bath. Fortunately I managed to escape prune boobs, but I have a feeling it won't be for long.
After the fantabulous end to the fabulous pony club camp, in which several of our members distinguished themselves by passing difficult riding and horse care examinations with flying colors, and the rest of the group distinguished themselves by their willingness to do everything possible to help those being examined, I was beat. My daughter was beat. We escaped with my darling husband to our house in the North Carolina husbands, where we did as little as possible for 2 and a half days. We played cards, read, slept, and ate. I thought about taking a yoga class but had a massage instead.
It was a very deliberate sort of nothingness, because we knew that today, and all the days for the next week, are going to be crammed full of all sorts of things. Today we emptied the horse trailer tack room, reorganized it, carted a vanload of stuff to the house, washed all that, washed about six other loads of laundry, folded it, packed for a horse trial/rally and a few days with our trainer Betty, printed out a thousand forms needed for the rally, went to a business meeting. went to Wal-Mart, went to the grocery, paid bills, balanced the checkbook, remembered to order more hay, met the darling husband for lunch, rode the horse, cleaned the tack, re-packed the trailer tack room including finding a way to get my new scooter inside, portioned out all the feed for 2 horses for 6 days the labor-intensive Pony Club Way, and got all the rally kits from the camp barn into the trailer. Then I hung out with my son for the 90 minutes between when he came home from one vacation and left with my husband for another [during that time he did a load of laundry and repacked his bags, I admired videos of his golf swing, and he went online to chose his college classes for freshman year]. Took son and daughter out for a quick burrito, meeting husband, kissing him goodbye, transferring son's gear to his car. Took out some trash. Did dishes. Walked the dogs. Picked raspberries. Took a shower (no prune boobs!). And now, believe it or not, I'm making raspberry jam. (I'm cheating a little and putting it up in Tupperware.)
And drinking a glass of wine. A big one.
You know how, when you've been in the bath too long, your fingers turn into prunes? Today I was constantly and thoroughly awash with sweat; my bra absorbed liquid until the girls were sitting in their own private little bath. Fortunately I managed to escape prune boobs, but I have a feeling it won't be for long.
After the fantabulous end to the fabulous pony club camp, in which several of our members distinguished themselves by passing difficult riding and horse care examinations with flying colors, and the rest of the group distinguished themselves by their willingness to do everything possible to help those being examined, I was beat. My daughter was beat. We escaped with my darling husband to our house in the North Carolina husbands, where we did as little as possible for 2 and a half days. We played cards, read, slept, and ate. I thought about taking a yoga class but had a massage instead.
It was a very deliberate sort of nothingness, because we knew that today, and all the days for the next week, are going to be crammed full of all sorts of things. Today we emptied the horse trailer tack room, reorganized it, carted a vanload of stuff to the house, washed all that, washed about six other loads of laundry, folded it, packed for a horse trial/rally and a few days with our trainer Betty, printed out a thousand forms needed for the rally, went to a business meeting. went to Wal-Mart, went to the grocery, paid bills, balanced the checkbook, remembered to order more hay, met the darling husband for lunch, rode the horse, cleaned the tack, re-packed the trailer tack room including finding a way to get my new scooter inside, portioned out all the feed for 2 horses for 6 days the labor-intensive Pony Club Way, and got all the rally kits from the camp barn into the trailer. Then I hung out with my son for the 90 minutes between when he came home from one vacation and left with my husband for another [during that time he did a load of laundry and repacked his bags, I admired videos of his golf swing, and he went online to chose his college classes for freshman year]. Took son and daughter out for a quick burrito, meeting husband, kissing him goodbye, transferring son's gear to his car. Took out some trash. Did dishes. Walked the dogs. Picked raspberries. Took a shower (no prune boobs!). And now, believe it or not, I'm making raspberry jam. (I'm cheating a little and putting it up in Tupperware.)
And drinking a glass of wine. A big one.
That is truly impressive, I must say.
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