Does This Horse Make My Butt Look Big?

So I took my troop horseback riding Sunday - I know - you just CAN'T get enough of my girl scout stories.  Anyway, It was a gorgeous, autumn afternoon - peaceful and quiet as we rode through the woods for ninety minutes.  Oh sure, there was the occasional horse in front of you stopping to crap - a VERY disturbing sight up close - but the weather was perfect and the leaves were turning.  Aside from the girls snickering every time a horse stopped to 'go,' it was idyllic.

The girls got to choose their horses.  Of course my daughter (see above) - the super tall kid, picks the Welsh pony.  She looked like and adult riding a dog.  I asked her why she chose him, and she said, "Cuz I thought we'd look weird together."  In a strange way, that made total sense to me.

Once the girls were done, Jo, the horse facilitator said to her staff, "Bring out the 'Adult' horses."  For a moment I thought maybe these were horses rescued from the porn industry.  But then my friend Lisa leaned over and translated, "She means the horses who can handle us big girls."  I prefer to think that these are the maverick mustangs that only she and I can handle.

Of course, Lisa gets Rusty - the Hannibal Lechter of horses - as is evidenced by the above photo.  Jo insists that Rusty does not have an obsessive need to consume human flesh with a nice chianti and fava beans - he just won't stop eating grass...EVER.  That's why he has the cage on his face.  Maybe - but I stood two steps back, just in case.

This is me on my trusty steed, Apache - breathing fire through his nostrils as he chomps at the bit to charge off into the sunset.  Except that the stallion was really a mare.  And she was very sweet.  And her name was Shelley.  I tried not to be disappointed, but she wouldn't rear up on her hind legs - not even a little.

Here you can see how tiny Meg's horse was.  Lauren - in the top photo - is as tall as Meg.  She picked a normal sized horse.  Not my kid.

Jo asked if they wanted to groom the horses when they were done.  These are girls who I KNOW have to be held at gunpoint to brush their cats or dogs at home - I was certain they'd say no.

I was wrong.  They brushed these horses like they were giving them professional massages at a horse day spa.

In the end - it was a great day, even if I didn't get to gallop into the sunset.  Once my butt stops hurting, maybe I'll think about doing it again.  Someday.

The Assassin