|I think I will have a burger for lunch. Mmm.mmm..mmm..Oh Sorry - what were you saying again?|
Never board somewhere with the following business plan:
"Hey, honey - we have some land, and I like horses. They are pretty. Let's build a barn and arena, and get boarders. How hard can it be?
And since you have just been laid off from your job as a waitress - you and Grandpa can run the place! I love it when a plan comes together!"
Now, how did I come to find myself at Muddy View Acres in the first place, you may ask.
Of course, I didn't know about the business plan right away, they don't post it in a little frame like the mission statement in your office. It was revealed slowly, one tantilizing glimpse of incompetence at a time.
I certainly didn't know much about the place, or the owners initially either, but the one thing I did know was that since the business plan involved building a big and impressive brand new barn and arena and fencing all from scratch - it was very pretty and shiny and new! And everything pretty and shiny and new is good, right?
(It did also happen to be right on the Snowmobile trail, and Mr. Motard actually sledded on out to visit us one day. But that is just interesting trivia, and really neither here nor there and certainly not why I chose the place. I suppose it was an effective way to get him interested in coming out to visit the horse and there is something to be said for that since it doesn’t happen often).
However, as an unemployed horse owner, you show up during the day - showtime! - and have the luxury of watching the totally horrific stable management skills of Ma and Grandpa at a much more leisurely pace.
AAAA-HA! I knew they weren't putting his boots on! SEE! I buckled the second buckle to the third, on the fourth hole, while double twisting the strap - and IT IS STILL LIKE THAT NOW - A WEEK LATER!
(Come on - admit it - you've done it. Sort of like the strategies you used to prove the tooth fairy was a lie).
You don’t see that all of the little baggies of carefully proportioned supplements are not lovingly sprinkled on yummy warm beet pulp just for Foo Foo, but dealt out in a Las Vegas fashion to whatever bucket is closest at the time…HIT ME! Stormy needs some Valerein! Or whoever! Who cares!
Put things in perspective.
Is she being fed? Yes. Is she being turned out? Yes. Do the horses that the moronic owner just bought from the auction look adorable with the little circles of ringworm all over them, like some sort of freaky polka dots? Yah, actually, they kind of do. Can you blame him for thinking they were interesting markings? C'mon, it was an honest mistake.
Hang in there. Just a little longer. It will get better.