(No this is not a stunt rider, it is actually Mrs. Tuna)
I must secretly or maybe not so secretly be into S & M. As you know, I inflict myself on Eva Braun and her best friend Helga the yoga instructor on a sort of consistent basis. But I also have a much more regular relationship with my horse trainer, Attila the Hun’s cousin Sue the Sadist. Equestrians get all hot and dreamy when surrounded by whips and leather. Ahem.
Horseshow season is almost upon us in Arizona and my tormentor has accelerated to more of a frat house hazing phase. Umm, gee, that fence looks pretty darn big, I’m a little teeny bit concerned my horsie might stop and launch me from the fetal position on my head. I mean, I don’t want to have to take a bed in the Christopher Reeve Wing at the hospital. I will share here that Sheldon fell off in one of her lessons and broke her arm a few years ago. Nothing binds you to your daughter like having to shave her armpits for her. “Put your big girl panties on Sparky and get on with it, you’ll be fine”.
When we horseshowed our food needed to be easy access, today I’m sharing a chicken salad thing we ate on bread or crackers or even just a spoon.
Waldorf Chicken Salad
5 boneless chicken breasts, cooked and diced
1 cup chopped walnuts, big pieces
1 box frozen snow peas
1 cup mayo
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons white vinegar
½ teaspoon pepper
2 teaspoons sugar
2 apples, peeled, cored and chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
Combine and chill. My misspent youth was before the days of sunblock, electrolyte drinks and bottled water. My mom did her best to ensure we had plenty of salt and hydration in our system by offering salt tablets washed down with Rolling Rock nips. I always thought I rode better with a bit of a beer buzz.
But sadly, my horse Lad (Yes as in boy), is off with an injury that will keep him stall bound for 9 to 12 months, 6 down, 6 to go. He’s a giant horse, his back as tall as my head and I’m almost 6 foot tall, stuck in his square cell. The vet has put him on a long lasting tranquilizer, when I looked it up online one of the things they treat with it is schizophrenia in people. It must be keeping the little voices quiet in his pea brain. The backup ride, while kindly lent by said trainer is a tad bit sensitive. Bordeaux’s eyes spin like pinwheels and leap sideways at imaginary cougars hiding behind jumping fences. My lessons are typically with the teen girls, explaining why most of my Facebook friends are under 18. I’ll be glad when my personal bully leaves for the show grounds and I can stop peeing my pants in fright. I’m too old for this sh*t.