Tis Restaurant Week, knaves!

The annual event that I usually celebrate by missing it and grumbling after the fact. But no more! I carpe the diem! Qu'ils mangent de la brioche! Ecce horario: Vidalia for lunch today with 4mastjack (mushroom soup with pancetta, roast rabbit with carrot puree and pea-analogs made of green gnocchi, vanilla bean cake with strawberry-champagne jam), Taberna del Alabardero with Sunflake and Teal tonight, Restaurant K for dinner with TheVoice on Thursday, and i Ricchi with 4mastjack and 5starjoe for lunch on Friday. Saturday? Lolling about in a carbs coma and wishing for elastic-waisted pants.

I am breaking up this constant caloric influx with some horse time, of course, although by next week I will be a fatter-assed rider. This past Sunday was my first experience with the mixed teen/adult Western class. I was heavily outnumbered and very impressed: Unlike the adult dressage class, where you always have to be on the lookout for someone not paying attention or a horse having ADD attacks, the weaving and bending and circling of the warmup were conducted in almost perfect silence, with no near-collisions or anything worse than Grayson's usual irritable ears (downside: my habit of murmuring directions to horse and self was more conspicuous; fortunately, as the official old coot of the class, I am allowed to be eccentric). Later, during pattern work, ha! Pat's theory was supported: Cappi pulled exactly the same evading BS he no longer tries with me. Doc was a dreamboat, because, after all, whoozagooboyden and he had a good rider, and I found to my delight that Grayson was beautiful with the looser reins. Still a total bastard on the ground, but credit where it's due. Then last night Doc and I were reunited for a fairly slow workout under saddle. Cold weather gets Doc into his sparky pants, which combined with a foul muddy ring, several other horses to work around, and his recent vacation and new pain meds spelled me not wanting to push my or anyone else's luck. He was disappointed not to get to run like the wind, snorting all the way, but I comforted him with carrots and assured him that we'll try a little more next week. He listened to the part with root vegetables. Tomorrow night I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be back with Grayson, who at any rate is a useful reminder of how important it is to read a horse's body language and know where its feet and teeth are at all times. Since he tried to bite me on the head last time (kids! helmets! protect your valuable follicles!) when I was cleaning his hooves, you could say he's focused on experiential learning. Or that he's a farting demon-beast in dappled skin, whichever.