I've never been on a horse. Ever.
Dad hates horses. He calls them 'crow bait,' although I was never sure, as a child, exactly what that meant.
Honestly, it's not much clearer now.
I suspect that, growing up, Dad had a scary experience with horses and learned to fear them. To justify never going near a horse again, he simply decided they were wrong for a variety of reasons; they smell, they're unpredictable, whatever.
He had his reasons.
And yeah, horses smell, but they're supposed to. Daphne kind of likes it (fur, sweat and the outdoors with just a hint of ass - think Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum), but then she loves the smell of burnt microwave popcorn and helicopter exhaust, too.
My hospital is hosting a Leadership Retreat in June at a swanky resort in the mountains. After brain-washing us with motivational psychobabble, we have an afternoon of activities to choose from.
Photography, jewelry making, hiking, a scenic tram ride and horseback riding.
Just thinking of riding a horse scares the hell out of me and, at the same time, gives me that roller-coaster whoosh feeling in my stomach.
Crow bait be damned. I'm signing up tomorrow.
image from customwallgraphics.com