The Marlboro Man isn’t for me.  He’s the strong and silent type- it might be a romantic image on film, but it doesn’t look like much fun in real life. He probably eats an unhealthy amount of meat, that’s a given. A legendary smoker- no way would I let him in my barn. I doubt we would share the same taste in horses, (or anything else.) A hug from the Marlboro Man would feel like carrying an arm load of sticks and cans- way too boney for my taste.

And wouldn’t the Marlboro Man be…

There was a small gaggle of ducks to begin with. The girls laid tasty eggs, usually dropped at a run without looking back. They were non-flyers, but fun to watch in their pool. I didn’t take them very seriously at first. One of the ducks had a deformed beak that curved to one side. I named him Duck Cheney.  See what I mean?

Years passed and there was slow attrition. Eventually only two ducks were left.

Fred and Ethel had lived so long that their pithy political names had fallen…

Dear Drama Queen,

I understand getting upset. You have so much passion and desire for riding. I know how much you want to do the very best job. Sometimes the world seems to conspire against you; it’s like every bad thing happens to you and none of it is…

Riders know this lesson; if you get bucked off you have to climb back on. That’s the rule. Horse or rider are better for it. They say that the hardest thing about riding is hitting the ground (sigh) but I disagree. The recovery is often more challenging.

I think we are afraid of what we know- more than the unknown. Experience makes it personal. Once we have…