Andare, Partire, Tornare

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News of the Weird

If I can scrape together 300 bucks every ten weeks, I want to start horseback riding again. I went with Z yesterday evening to her lesson, and as soon as I stepped out of the car and smelled that familiar stable smell of horse, leather, hay, poop, and sawdust, I flashed back to the days when I rode frequently, and wanted to do it again. It was a little funny, because since the days that I did ride a lot, stables mostly didn' have too many rules, but now due to insurance concerns, riders aren't allowed to saddle up their own horses, and have to wait for an announcement before they can bridle them, walk them out to the ring, and mount up. It does make sense that they don't want stupid people getting bitten or kicked, but it was a bit startling to see in action.

I have no idea how much technique I remember - in my mind it's all perfect, but I'm sure my body, as out of shape as it is, doesn't recall anything at all! I don't want to get back on a horse and be a complete marshmallow, but ya gotta start somewhere, I suppose. Actually, I have to start with the money. No idea if it's even possible to find the extra dinero.

Going to a conference in Delaware in late October. It'll be exciting - my friend E, who is now at the Hagley in Delaware, will be attending some of the same sessions I'm planning on going to, and she generously gave me permission to crash on her floor for one night. The sessions I want to particularly attend are "Condition Reporting - A Lost Art Form," "Soft Packing for Small Museums," and "Couriering, or the Art of Getting it from Here to There." Don't you love inter-dicipline jargon? And, just to prove that museum folks get wild and crazy, there's a masquerade ball one of the evenings.

Been feeling a little poopy recently - vaguely nauseated and tired. Probably due to the fact that I haven't been sleeping well. Our little bedroom gets really stuffy at night, even though we have the windows open, a ceiling fan, and a floor fan going. Plus, one of the other cats got locked in with us last night, and the two didn't discover each other until about four am. (Bogie was asleep on our bed, and Niki was under the bed, and neither knew the other one was there) Cue horrible cat fight scream. Tim and I jolted out of bed, and I had to get up and open the door so Niki could stalk out, tail lashing indignantly.

Having four cats in the house is always entertaining.

2:19 p.m. - 2001-09-20

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