And riding wins by a whole horse length.

I’m confessing, Readers. I’ve been spending more time riding, and thinking about riding, than writing. I would spend more time writing, even though I’m riding, but all I can think, and write, about is riding.

I’m as bad as a teen-aged boy thinking of sex. I swear I think of my horse every 3.2 seconds. And I can’t stop talking about how wonderful she’s doing and how much fun I’m having and blah blah blah to the minutia. Even when I’m talking to non-horsey people, I talk about it. I see their eyes glaze over, and I know it’s the endless horse talk tumbling out of my mouth that’s causing the severe condition, but still I keep yammering about my horse, Xena, and the trail rides and the plans and the squishy-buzzy feeling I have inside and how “‘Dwina’s right, your heart skips a beat.”


I’d write more, but it’s time to feed the boarders. Plus, Xena’s in from pasture, and I feel the need to go kiss her giant horse face. So there’s that.

Who wouldn’t want to kiss her at: pam(at)