Blame It On The Rain.

If there's one thing I like more than attractive waiters or the perfect half-pass, it's rain.

I miss those working student days the most.. Raindrops drumming me awake, splashing against my legs as I fed. Brushing against my cheeks, getting caught in my eyelashes. I even liked riding in the rain, in an indoor or outside. Those days, I'd turn on soft classical music, and let the rumble of thunder add to the crescendo.

The Boss Mare rode to the droll sounds of National Public Radio. So one rainy morning, I tacked up her second horse and led him down to wait for her. I plopped into a chair near the arena entrance.

Stalled horses dozed in their stalls - some with their heads low in the corner, others sprawled out in their shavings. The sounds of rain and thunder mixed with the scratchy tones of liberal media.

It was a cocktail more potent than Nyquil. The gelding, not immune, drooped his nose into my lap. He cocked his hindfoot up to rest, closed his eyes.

I leaned back in the chair as I scratched his ears and neck, feeling woozy and heady from the drum of Mother Nature and some carefully twisted media. I yawned. My eyes began to blink shut. My limbs felt filled with lead....

And then with a start, I woke up. I jumped, and the gelding jerked away from me.

The Boss Mare stood alongside her first mount. Her hand rested on her hip, and her head tilted to one side. "Were you... Sleeping?"

"Uh. No?"

We traded horses as I wiped the drool from the side of my mouth.

I wish I could say that was the only time she found me drifting off in the chair... Maybe later I'll tell you about how I love hot summer afternoons with Wishbone Ash puffing from the speakers.

Until then,
Girl