I came home from the casino yesterday–don’t ask how it went, I’m traumatized–and I got a fabulous surprise. During my absence, my brother Jerry had delivered my new mare, April. She was safely ensconced in her stall, munching hay.
What a beauty she is. A registered Arabian, no less. (I had no idea she was pedigreed–I just wanted a gentle horse to ride.) I’m thinking of changing her name–right now, “Cherokee” is out there in the lead. If I remember correctly, that was what Little Joe Cartwright’s horse was called. And hey, what’s good enough for Little Joe, my first great love, is good enough for me.
The previous owner wanted assurance that April was going to a good home. My brother just chuckled and said he’d be willing to live in my barn. Anybody who knows me knows my animals get the best of everything–above all else, copious amounts of LOVE. Several friends have said if they died before I do, they’re going to lobby to come back as one of my dogs. Most people, for instance, train (or try to) their dogs to stay off the furniture. Mine have special steps so they can get up and down easily. After the pet food scare, I switched them over entirely to fresh meat. Oh, yeah, they’re spoiled.
On another subject, I’ve had a wireless card put into my new laptop, and I’m thinking I’ll be able to keep this blog up while I’m in Dallas for the big Romance Writers of America conference. (Cross your fingers. Technology isn’t my strength, much as I love electronic gadgets!)
Lots of packing still to do, since I leave for the conference very early tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t you know it, I lost a crown and have to wedge time into my already busy day to see the dentist. (I know, you’re right. If I’d stayed home from the casino, I wouldn’t have so much to do today.)
Alas. I am gloriously imperfect.