Cold winds blow

It's 46 and for a thin skinned Texas girl who ran from Chicago after two icy winters (where I learned it can be too cold to snow - how insane is that?!), it's too cold to ride.

But I snuck in a ride anyway. No one was at the stables (because, hey, we're all thin skinned Texans), light was fading fast, wind blowing in from the North with an icy bite. All the horses were bouncing off the fences, thinking I was there to feed.

We're like a family at the stables (with our occassional dsyfunctional moments, as any family should have), and so I'm torn about feeding everyone.

First it's a little complex. Of course these aren't my horses - except for one. Then some horses come in, some stay out, some get this, some get that... I sometimes mix up who is who, although it's gotten easier now that there are fewer horses around.

So then I think "Well, I'll just feed these guys" because I know them and know what they get. But then the other horses get really ticked off and it seems to cause more trouble than if I let them run around.

Then I feel guilty for not feeding because clearly I could be helping. And they are all LOOKING at me saying "you know, miz 'alpha mare,' you're the one with the opposable thumbs..."

The wind was cutting in, manes were lifting in the air, the moon light was dimmed behind thin high clouds. I hesitated before the feeding buckets in the barn, then turned out the light and headed to the car. Pete and Sharon would be there later, and I knew they'd feed. You can count on them like you can count on cold Texas breezes in January.

As I walked to my car, the horses were all standing at their gates expectantly, seeming to be stunned that I was leaving without the payout.

I felt like a waitress getting off her shift right before the lunch rush, passing the crowd of people at the hostess stand, waiting to get in. You know you are right to leave, but still...

Man, this is definitely going to impact my karma.