Ya Know You're Old When . . . .

I just now sent birthday wishes to a former student who is celebrating her 60th birthday today.

No!  That could not be. 

Other students have turned 60, but for some reason today's greeting set off alarm bells in my groggy morning head.  

If she's 60, you are definitely turning into a dinosaur, I thought.  

Actually, I've thought that many times, especially every time I look at my wrinkled up skin which could use several daily douses of Regenerist Advanced Anti-Aging Micro Sculpting Cream.

Anyway, this student was once one of my smiling Ponderettes, a former drill team captain, in fact, who led the precision marchers through drills and parades well into my teaching career during the mid-1970s.  

She's 60 today.  Just can't be, but it is.

To top it off, she got a tattoo.  And, I didn't even cringe at the thought of a 60-year-old getting her first sample of body art. 

Time has passed and my perspectives have continued to change with its passing. Through all those years of living on this Earth, I have often seen many of my original hard-core rigid beliefs soften to a point of acceptance and even understanding.  

Although my core principles will always remain steadfast, I have come to the conclusion that too often we make much ado about nothing, especially if it's not hurting other people, any animals or the environment. 

That said, my upcoming appointment calendar includes no tattoo sessions. 

It does, however, include jumping up and kicking my ancient heels together, hoping I don't bruise or break my old self and rejoicing that THE RAIN HAS FINALLY STOPPED for a while. 

The sight of stars in the early morning sky as I squished, squished my way to the barn today was uplifting and heavenly. 

October 2016 seems definitely determined to break a moisture record.  Thank goodness, we have only three more days of this month.  

Not fun dealing with wet, wet, wet along with wet, wet, wet dogs. Lots of bathing or running them through the puddles to clean off the mud and lots of toweling off to get rid of the "wet-dog" stink.

And, it's never fun for the poor horses to be slopping through the mud.  That's supposed to happen in the spring. 

Speaking of which, I was SO ready for October when I could finally have time to ride my horses, that I had them re-shod with wonderful visions of plodding down mountain trails with my sisters or taking lovely afternoon rides by myself around the Lovestead. 

Hasn't happened.  

John Fuller, my farrier, who has already escaped all this by taking off for his winter in Mexico, questioned whether I would really ride them.  

Of course, I said with confidence and desire.   

John must have known something about all this bleak fall weather that I didn't.  Still, he obliged and nailed on the shoes.  

The only hope remaining is that next week, which they say is supposed to be dry, I can sneak in a couple of rides before calling someone to take the shoes off for the winter. 

The one certain thing we can say with certainty is that we're back to good ol' North Idaho weather where outdoor plans can go awry or turn mighty miserable.  

And, once more, I can repeat my old timer observation that the one thing we can count on with any North Idaho weather pattern is that whatever we get, we get a lot of it. 

All that said, I'm hoping to grab a few end-of-the fall photos while the sun is out today. 
In the meantime, I'll leave you with an assortment of random shots taken over the past week, which definitely chronicle the end to a season. 

Happy Friday.