Ive been under the weather all month—incapable of picking up the phone despite my best efforts, incapable of any social interaction including Facebook—am starting to feel better and have accepted the fact that I need to change my profession from horse trainer to retired horse trainer. This is a hard nut to swallow, but what choice do I have at this point? None. So, looking towards the future, why not have a bachelorette show for the 50 and over set (with yours truly as the bachelorette) once Im out of mourning for Danny, for Tucker, for Sweetie Pie, for my life in the saddle, for everything that was and is no more? *** Let it be known that I do have standards !!! Contestants vying for my heart on national television must: (a) have a job or be retired from a job even if born into a trust fund; (b) have hair or a nicely shaved, well-shaped head—no lumpy paw-paw craniums or comb-overs, thank-you-very-much; (c) have teeth—store-bought, no problem, as long as they’re properly fitted; (d) love horses and dogs with the understanding that dogs on the bed are part of the Natural Order of Things; (e) recognize the difference between sarcasm and humor. No sculpted facial hair. No badmouthing of ex lovers. No willingness to accept the drug-drenched status quo on the backside, and ABSOLUTELY no belief that amicar and bute are harmless training meds. Instead of handing out roses on “The Mature and Slightly Gimpy Bachelorette” show, I’ll hand out bunches of alfalfa tied with red ribbons—the way you tie a cautionary red ribbon in your horse’s tail if your horse is a kicker—because I kick sometimes, and that’s the awful truth.
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 02:40:56 +0000