Seven hours of horsey play and grooming means very, very sore fingers so I'll keep this short.
Remember the homemade cake from yesterday? Yeah, between Oldest Son, Youngest Son and their two girlfriends ... all gone before 9:00 PM last night. I guess the proof is in the empty cake pan.
I almost started the wheels rolling to adopt a retiring therapeutic horse today. A-L-M-O-S-T but I realize I don't really have enough land even for a horse who will never be ridden again and how could I convince Hubby the furry money pit in the backyard is worth all the old age vet and food bills. I don't think even I could convince him. This is called unhappy maturity.