I was whining about my life to yohannon this morning. "Why can't I go to a fucking party without having to plan the next Normandy invasion just to get myself there?"
It is about like that, lately. Unfortunately for me, I have developed a new ambition. I plan to take Palisades to a horse show.
My April schedule at work has been nailed down: 0600-1430, Monday-Friday. Don't ask me how I managed to get weekends off. The answer is not nearly so interesting as selling my soul to the devil (although acquiescing to a 6am start time may come close). Also, this schedule is only guaranteed through 3 May, whereafter There Be Dragons (otherwise known as the shift bidding process), and I am so unlikely to even get *a* weekend day off that I'm not going to sweat it.
Which leaves me April for an opportunity (horse shows, oddly, are normally scheduled for weekends). Then I got email about a series of schooling shows about 1.5 hours from my place, one each month through September. Given that I am almost guaranteed to make a fool of myself in front of an audience (Palisades wasn't taken off the farm much in his long life, and our trip to Oregon last August was, er, educational for us both), doing it for $15 plus gas each way is much more appealing than paying Class A show fees (figure around $120 once all the required memberships & etc pile on) for the experience.
So now I have to make sure that Palisades will, at home at least, consent to wear a snaffle bridle, stand in open position on cue, and walk or trot with me around a triangle, which at home will be marked off by empty buckets, while the show will probably have either orange traffic cones or flowers. (Let's not discuss my cardiovascular state, shall we? I'm going to the gym in the morning, bugger off.)
Just because he'll do it at home is no guarantee that he'll do it while distracted by forty-'leven strange horses in a strange place, but it's a start.