Back in the Saddle, again . . .

Do you remember that song?

“Back in the saddle again . . . I’m back in the saddle again . . .”

I haven’t heard or thought of that song for years. It takes me back to my childhood, growing up with horses and cowboys.

Cowboys and horses were one part of our family’s resort.

I didn’t like horses. Nope. I wasn’t one of those little girls who wished and hoped and prayed for a horse. We had 30 I could ride at any time, whenever I wanted.

But I didn’t like riding. It was dirty and dusty. And stinky.

Oh, I did my share of riding through the years. I mean, if your family owns a horse corral, it’s pretty much decreed –

You Will Ride Horses.

So I did. But I didn’t like it.

One horse in particular stands out in my memory. Dolly – an old, fat, seemingly docile palomino. Seemingly docile. The horse that the cowboys always put newbie riders on.

I was about 6 when my brother saddled Dolly for me so we could go for an evening ride. I can’t remember who he was riding. It doesn’t matter. Something spooked Dolly and she ran away with me. I held on for dear life. Scrawny little legs bouncing out of the stirrups and one hand clenched on the reins and the other on the saddle horn.

I can still hear my brother laughing as he galloped to catch up to Dolly.

I was not laughing.

None of the cowboys believed Dolly could even trot, let alone gallop. Truth be told, it probably wasn’t an actual gallop, but to a six year old, it felt like Zenyatta was headed for the finish line.

 

To this day, it’s still a family favorite when they want to embarrass me.

After that ride, I really didn’t want to even look at a horse, let alone ride one again. But that’s not the way it worked in my family.

You’ve heard the saying – Get Back On The Horse.

So I did. I even got over my fears, but I never really enjoyed riding.

So what in the heck does any of this have to do with blogging? Well, for the past 2 weeks I just couldn’t muster up anything to say. For me, that’s a rarity.

I’m what they call ‘talkative’. Verbose. Can’t say ‘Hello’ in two words.

The only time I’m not talking is when I’m mad or drunk. I rarely drink. And I haven’t been mad lately.

No, I take that back. I have been mad at my body for the past 2 weeks. I have a herniated disc in my back that will periodically cause shooting flames of fire radiating down my leg to my toes. Sitting makes it worse. Sitting and blogging? Well, it just wasn’t gonna happen.

I tried standing and writing. That didn’t work too well.

So I finally gave in to the pain and spent the majority of the time laying flat, trying every remedy – natural and chemical – known to man, I believe.

Finally, this morning the pain has lessened enough for me to move without the bones in my left side feeling like a red hot poker.

Yep, I’m back in the saddle again. I may not be galloping, but at least I’m on the trail.

Lord, that brings up another cowboy song . . .

Happy Trails to you, until we meet again.