The Riding Lesson

It gives me great pleasure to inform everyone that I am still using my treadmill at least five days a week. I'm telling you this not because you care, but again because it makes me accountable to someone. I don't know that I've lost a pound, but my thighs are definitely a little smaller and my butt is firmer. You're just going to have to take my word for it on that one. I'm not about to go around saying, "Feel my butt!" like one of the surgical residents I met in vet school. He was from Spain, and apparently they take that whole "Latin lover" thing way too seriously over there. He was just sure that all of us ladies were dying of love for him, meanwhile he was sleeping with another exercise-crazed resident like himself. He told us all about her how amazing her butt was, too. Add to that the fact that he called me "Blondie" for an entire six week surgical rotation and I'm pretty sure he broke about every rule in the handbook regarding sexual harassment. I did learn a lot about self control, however. Every time he called me Blondie, I had to suppress the urge to call him Unibrow. That probably wouldn't have been good for my average in surgery. As it was, I refused to buy into an Internet pyramid scheme and he was pretty well done with me. He did stick it to me on my grade, however. Such a charming person to have come across. I hope his butt gets a pimple on it.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to teach two delightful little girls a riding lesson. (And no, I'm not talking about my kids!) One was here visiting from Texas. Her mom grew up here. The irony of a Texas kid taking horseback riding lessons in Mississippi tickles me every time. I guess those of us who don't live there automatically assume that if you live in Texas you are a cowboy. Hey, you Texans put that image out there. If it makes you feel any better, lots of people I know, including myself, secretly wish we lived there, too!

My girls were perfectly content playing the computer, so I let them know I was going to teach a lesson and headed to the arena. Naturally, before my students had made a lap in the arena, my kids decided they wanted to come, too. Not wishing to cause myself unnecessary grief, I had told them these kids were coming, but I left out one vitally important bit of information: the fact that the students were going to ride their ponies.
As soon as the Ranger topped the hill, one of them became indignant.
Child 2: "They're riding our ponies?"
Dad: "Well, yeah. What did you think they were going to ride?"
Child 2: "Well, I don't know, but if that girl kills my pony, I'm never going to let her ride him again!"
Pondering what she had just said for a moment, she finished with, "Well, I guess if she did that, he'd be dead. Hmmpf."
Child 1: "It's okay if they ride our ponies. They live in town. They don't have ponies of their own to ride at home."
Dad: "And, their mom is helping pay your entry fees for the next barrel race, so put a lid on it!"
Ah, yes, life lessons at the age of six. Maybe the little suckers DO realize how lucky they are. But I doubt it.
Just remember, if you loan out your pony and someone kills it, don't ever let them ride it again. :)