I have a devious plan forming.
We had so much fun last year when everyone sent in their Horsey, Goaty, Self-y, Doggy, Kitty, Bunny, and even Chicken-y holiday dress up. It’s wide-open, people! If you want to share, send all goofy holiday (of choice: I’ve always wanted to see a yarmulke on a horse) photos to:
I can’t exactly walk yet, but I’ve been invited to work a cattle drive with Hudson on December 18th.
Read: I’m invited to tag along, but no one has illusions of my usefulness. This will be Jane’s bone-head course: Cattle Drive 101.
Hand me that Sore No More, will you? I need to keep arnica on the hematoma. I am determined to be fine by December 18th. What do doctors know?
Oh yeah. Back to devious. I think the drive is all cowgirls, leaving the boyfriends/hubbys at home. Sort of a girls cattle-work day. I thought I might bring a box of Santa hats, reindeer antlers, battery lights, whatever, and see if I could get Santa Cattle Drive photos! Women are much more open to decorating animals than men.
If you want to be truly grossed out in Technicolor, click “more” to see Hudson’s love tap. Not for the queasy.
That’s not my butt up there. The bruise has simply swollen to the size of a basketball. I can still see the hoof print, very faintly. Hey, this is like Where’s Waldo! Can you find it?
I sent this to Daisy, and she wrote back “AWESOME”. I knew exactly what she meant. How awesome is it when something finally looks as bad as it hurts? How many times have we bonked our heads, rammed our funny bones, or endured some other bodily insult, only to get a teensy little no-sympathy inducing spot.