The last few weeks have been a blur. I finally hit the wall and tonight I’m plagued with Writer’s Blob. Writer’s Blob is different from writer’s block. Writer’s block is not knowing how to move forward, kill the blank page, where to go to next. Writer’s Blob is when the collaborative nerves connecting the working brain and the typing fingers become damaged from excessive creative collaborativeness. As a result, the non-efficient body becomes a pitiful blob in front of the computer, knowing the work that must be done, but accomplishing nothing but reloading frequently visited pages more often than necessary and obsessively checking email for something more exciting to look at.
You’re thinking: If writer’s blob is the problem, what are doing on the blog? It’s another symptom of writer’s blob. Instead of accomplishing important work, said writer crosses stupid useless crap off her list of things to do until a deadline is the only thing left staring her in the face.
……….So, I’ve been meaning to tell everyone about the armadillo Julie Richard’s spotted during one of her showjumping rounds at Poplar Place two weekends ago.
As she approached the gate on her way out of a nice round, she said casually, “there’s an armadillo on course between 8a&b.”
….good eye….
The TD said something about having never seen an armadillo up close…He must not be from around here…This wasn’t my first encounter with Poplar Place armadillos. When I was a working student, Sam and I were hacking the perimeter when a tiny armored family emerged from the bushes and rambled after us. It was all I could do to make my weirdo pony trot away instead of turning to say hi, which he desperately wanted to do.
Anyway, who knows how long the armadillo was on the showjumping course, grazing and flicking his ears about above the grass line. He reluctantly retreated to the trees as I shooed him off course. Once he realized I was too big and clumsy to follow him any further, he turned and stared at me hard, as if he knew I couldn’t guard the grass between fences 8a&b all day.
I’ll see everyone at Poplar Place this weekend. Looks like we’re in for another cold one.
I house-sat for Mum this weekend while she took off galavanting through the fields with the hounds. I went for a trail ride with Sue, the first time I’d been on since before Christmas, and boy I paid for it. When ibuprofen isn’t working, I hear 1cc of banamine does the trick.
