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The Water Cooler
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Is Being “In Shape” Important?
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<blockquote data-quote="BillM" data-source="post: 3866464" data-attributes="member: 45785"><p>My dad & step-mom moved to Western Colorado in 1970, after my disastrous freshman year of high school and took my brother and I (and their four kids) with them. This was shortly after mom dumped the 2nd step-father. I got to work cattle, buck bales the old fashioned way, etc., and help milk cows, raise a garden, chickens, goats and sheep, pigs, horses, and ponies. Didn't get to do rodeo, but did ride in the arena where they held rodeos, and watch a couple of the folks in my high school there ride. Barrel racing, mostly. That is also where I lost my horse, essentially. He was a registered Appaloosa, who for some reason was cut proud. He lost the right side rein when I was across the arena from my dad, who was at the gate. I hollered at him to close the gate, but before he could do it, Diablo was through the gate, and turning to the right to head upcountry. I baled out on the left, and grabbed the bit, and he stopped before I did. Fool horse loved to run, and frankly I wasn't enough horseman for him. Dad took him to the sale yard the next day. I'm still PO'd about that, but I've been a parent for more than 30 years now, myself, so I think I also understand why he did it. I baled when I did because there was a steeper slope up the hill from where were were, and barbed wire at the top of that steeper slope. I was afraid he'd get snagged in it and hurt. </p><p></p><p>I've never had another horse, either. And now it's a good thing, because I have trouble taking proper care of my big old dog. Don't worry about the derail. Threads drift. That's what they do, that's just the way it is. Though I must say I never drift a thread. Or is it always drift a thread? Whatever! <img src="/images/smilies/smile.png" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-shortname=":)" /></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BillM, post: 3866464, member: 45785"] My dad & step-mom moved to Western Colorado in 1970, after my disastrous freshman year of high school and took my brother and I (and their four kids) with them. This was shortly after mom dumped the 2nd step-father. I got to work cattle, buck bales the old fashioned way, etc., and help milk cows, raise a garden, chickens, goats and sheep, pigs, horses, and ponies. Didn't get to do rodeo, but did ride in the arena where they held rodeos, and watch a couple of the folks in my high school there ride. Barrel racing, mostly. That is also where I lost my horse, essentially. He was a registered Appaloosa, who for some reason was cut proud. He lost the right side rein when I was across the arena from my dad, who was at the gate. I hollered at him to close the gate, but before he could do it, Diablo was through the gate, and turning to the right to head upcountry. I baled out on the left, and grabbed the bit, and he stopped before I did. Fool horse loved to run, and frankly I wasn't enough horseman for him. Dad took him to the sale yard the next day. I'm still PO'd about that, but I've been a parent for more than 30 years now, myself, so I think I also understand why he did it. I baled when I did because there was a steeper slope up the hill from where were were, and barbed wire at the top of that steeper slope. I was afraid he'd get snagged in it and hurt. I've never had another horse, either. And now it's a good thing, because I have trouble taking proper care of my big old dog. Don't worry about the derail. Threads drift. That's what they do, that's just the way it is. Though I must say I never drift a thread. Or is it always drift a thread? Whatever! :) [/QUOTE]
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