It's not my fault, really. I suddenly tripped and fell facefirst into an equine utopia.

I landed a job at the end of March working customer service for reverse mortgages. (And yes, it is as fun as it sounds.) It pays well enough, at least while I finish up my Video Game Development degree. But with job hunting out of the way, I could finally concentrate on moving my Peruvian Paso out to my property.

My next door neighbor is an optimistic freak, one of those rare, bubbly sorts that are downright disconcerting in their likability. We went through a flood together last year, and are such friends that we have an adjoining gate between our properties. (I told you it was weird!) Until a few days ago, all she owned was Rocky, a grade 9-year old bay gelding that was a rescue case. He'd been starved until all of his hair fell out, but you'd never know it now. Well, some folks who are richer than God but dumber than posts suddenly wished a registered paint gelding on her. The guy's right hind foot has nearly exploded off the bone because these people didn't know they had to get his feet trimmed every 4-6 weeks until after a year of owning him.

My neighbor got a free horse, trailer, and round pen out of it. Paint is still rideable, but just barely, and he's not out of the woods yet. But now all three of us have horses: me, my neighbor, and her daughter. Chano had some difficulty loading, but he's settled in just fine. We've had some necking and nipping, but nothing serious over the fence yet. I've got three cowgirls with three different areas of expertise (confidence, training, and riding) to consult. A few days ago we discovered that an equine masseuse lives down the street from us, and she's taken care of Paint's bad leg in addition to the farrier.

And oh, it gets better.

I have a tack shed right next to a rectangular stall area where I feed Chano. My neighbor's hose fills his trough so I don't have to worry about Piker chewing through anything. My neighbor and I ride about three or four days a week. I'm working on getting Chano to lose weight and neck rein, and our backyards are trail-riding training grounds. We have hills, obstacles, a river, and a dog (Piker) to desensitize them all to. And there's a 6-acre ranch right across the street from us with round pens and stalls that will probably be purchased by one of us within the year. And while I'm still dreaming after all this; I'd like a hot, horse-loving boyfriend who writes or draws.

Ye gods! I don't know how it happened. I told myself I needed to get back to some childhood roots this summer, because I was a barefoot little coffee bean when I was younger. I also wanted to get away from the computer and stuff for a while, because I feel like I've been on a bit of creative treadmill for too many years. Art is not an impetuous for life, as it were, and I guess I've half-realized that most of my satisfactions came from worlds that only exist in my head.

So I guess I wanted to explain to DA why I've dropped off the face of the planet, and will probably continue to do so. I still check DA every day; I've allowed myself half an hour a day to muck around on the Internetz. I want to see what it's like to do something different for a while, and I really can't believe I suddenly have all of this. I better enjoy it while I can before Murphy's Law comes hunting.

Now if you'll excuse me, my Peruvian is calling to me from my back yard.

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