Wrangler Man has been trying to make a cowgirl out of me.  Well, I love the country.  I love cows-at a distance.  I love horses-at a distance.  I can do chores-pretty good.  Doesn’t that make me a cowgirl?

Apparantly, I need to be able to ride a horse pretty darn good.  That shouldn’t be a problem cause I love horses.  Right? 

I just have to figure out how to keep my knees from shaking while I am in the saddle.  I think the horse can feel that.  I am sure he can sense it.

I read that somewhere.

So, I haven’t really told anyone, but for the last month or so, I have been riding horses with the guys. 
Sort of.

Wranglers says, “Yur’ doin’ real good there hot pants.”  He calls me hot pants.   I don’t know why.

But I like it.  It’s his own little pet name for me.  Not buttercup, or sugar, or sweetie pie.  It’s “hot pants”.  He uses that name so much that it just rolls off his tongue before he even thinks about it.  Like the time my whole family was setting around and he said, “Hey hot pants, will you, uh,…”  You should have seen his face when he realized what he had said.


Ok.  Back to my equine training.  I have a short attention span.  Easily distracted.  Maybe it’s ADD.  I will have that checked.

Ok. Back to my equine training.  So, on the few nice days we have had lately, I have been going out and taking pictures of the guys riding.  I like that part.  Then, before I know it, Wranglers has talked me into riding too.

I really do enjoy it.

As long as my horse doesn’t buck.

Or go too fast.

Or snort.

Or stumble.

Here’s the living proof.

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