this morning, on our day off, I had a long and lovely brunch with two of my fabulous girlfriends and one of the dudes, who dropped in on us after we'd arrived. there is something so exquisite about brunch: it's languorous and kind of decadent, and food-wise, there is nothing better. there are a million great brunch places in Portland; today we hit up bread & ink, where they serve their bloody marys as god intended: with a billion salted vegetables. "every food group!" cristina joked. "alcohol, vegetables, water, and salt."
we had a lively discussion about the turn of the screw, which we saw in its final room run last night. (we take it to the theater for tech rehearsals tomorrow). the show is maybe the best one we've done in my four years -- compelling, disturbing, fascinating, beautiful. we debated the ambiguity of the plot and each drew our own conclusions, which delighted us.
afterwards I went to the barn and finally rustled up the motivation to ride. I just bought a bitless bridle to try on Cookie; we had a heart-to-heart in her stall, where I reminded her that I trusted her and asked her to please not make me bite the dust tonight. oops? maybe because I didn't lunge her beforehand (she's been getting too much sweetfeed & too little exercise and has a lot of steam to blow off before being ridden); maybe because we haven't ridden at night in the shadowy arena in awhile; maybe because she had this weird new CONTRAPTION on her face: after a few laps of walking we started to trot and she spooked at a monster on the far end of the ring, bucking and panicky. fortunately the new bridle -- despite being bitless -- had fine stopping power. my instructor, who had been turned in the other direction, watching the other student in the ring, turned just in time to see Cookie come out of it. "hey, nice balance!" she said. I had lost a stirrup but stayed on.
so we bagged it. we walked a few more laps and then I turned Cookie loose in the arena for awhile. it's the first time in five months of riding that she's acted out in any way at all. sometimes you have to know when it's just not your day. or your horse's day.