Wrangler Dani

What up peeps.

My shoulder still hurts. Hot showers and four Advil at a time are the only things that make it better. My fella has to come home from a 12-hour work day and help me cook dinner, listen to me moan and try to make it better.  I am so thankful for him, but I feel awful about my pathetic state. OK. Whining over. After this. OW OW OW OW OW.

We accidentally set the coffee-maker to “Mild” this morning. Cuisinart, can we make a deal? Let’s call ’em like we see ’em. Instead of Mild, Medium and Strong, let’s say Weak, That’ll Do, and Hallelujah. Thanks.

I’m saying good-bye to my horseback kids this week, and won’t be seeing most of them again until September.  They’re all very cute with hugs and requests that I take care of their ponies, which of course I pledge to do, carrots and tip-of-the-nose kisses included. They also seem to think that my arm might actually fall off, tentatively touching the sling and telling me they’ll visit me in the hospital.

Left Arm, I love you. Please come back and swivel like you’re supposed to.