A bleak summer day already, overcast and spitting outside. We were lucky with the clinic weather-wise – at times it was overcast. There were also a few sprinkles. However, it didn’t rain. And we didn’t have to move the Centered jumping clinic or the Centered Trails class into the arena where there was not enough room for both clinics.

It should, on the solstice, be sunny and warm. Now the days are just going to get shorter. (This is a common statement in past dispatches on this subject. History is repeating itself.) I much prefer the winter solstice because I know that the days are going to get longer.

Josh, our farrier, is coming today. He’s going to trim Tyra and shoe Tinni, Hrimmi, and Raudi. This is a good way to train Tyra – she sees what’s going on but does not get the full deal. We had left Tinni unshod so that his hooves might grow out. He’s been ouchy on the gravel, so the shoes are going back on him. Hrimmi is now Pete’s riding horse and gets out nearly every day, so shoeing her is a no-brainer. Yep, this is costly, but it is going to get even more so because Tyra will be getting shoes in the fall.

Tyra has been doing just fine out on the trail. Like the others, she’s a serious grass grabber. I can hardly say that I blame any of them for their rapaciousness. The grass is bright green and very abundant. And in places it is chest high. And they have none in the paddock.

It’s like taking an alcoholic into a liquor store and showing them the goods. In some ways, this is a cruel preposition. I wonder if Arabs, desert horses, are as insistent about getting the goods as are Icelandics, a northern breed horse.

Pete burnt the bagels this morning. What a way to being the solstice festivities.

I am still feeling bad about what happened with my Centered Riding plans. I keep talking about the should haves, a mistake to put so much time and energy into anatomy and physiology, etc. etc. I don’t feel like elaborating. But oddly enough, in most ways my life has not changed. I’m still riding our horses. I’m still thinking about instructing. And I’m still churning out the dispatches. I neglected writing in my quest for a career that would provide me with a livelihood. Stupid, stupid me. If I didn’t have such a fat ass I would kick myself in the butt.

Wise people, in coming to roadblocks, don’t barge through them, but instead seek alternative roads. And alternative roads lead to other avenues. So the more time I spend fretting about the blocks, the less time I have to travel the other roads. And the less time I have to travel the other roads, the less that gets done. Trying hard to remain upbeat because I don’t really have any other choice(s).

Next: 169. 6/22/17: Forging Ahead