Of Eggplants and Ponies

I have a two pound eggplant inside a basketball inside my tummy. This strange occurrence and the analogy disturbs me a little. Being pregnant is weird enough without the food and sports references. Because of this interesting if not so unusual happening I am not allowed to start riding my three year old. Mind you they said I can’t ride him they (doctors, husband, people with more common sense than me) didn’t say I couldn’t work him.

I don’t know why I’m so worried about getting him started all of a sudden. Yes he’s three. No big deal. Morgans, horses in general, shouldn’t be started until then any way. It’s just that I am surrounded by a culture in which horses are started at two. An un-broke three year old means that I am a bad owner. Granted I have already admitted to this sad fact, I need to convince myself that that is not the case on this particular occasion. Next year he will be four, next year I will start riding him. He will be that much more ready to ride because I will have spent this year preparing him. It will be great.

Not.

All I want to do is hop on Coyote bare back in a halter and plod around the yard. I am lazy, I am pregnant, I am burned out on training horses.

Next year though, next year he shall be ridden.

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