Crossbo does the D-word

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The photographic evidence isn’t very clear, because I wasn’t expecting today to be a photo-op and wasn’t well equipped. But Crossbo had yet another encounter with a celebrity surrogate rider. Like last year’s experience with the Mounties, I once again entrusted Crossbo to the hands of someone who was frustrated with my inability to achieve his full potential. What do you say when the next First Lady of Kentucky asks to ride your horse? Since she’s an eventer who rides at a level way out of my league, and has provided me with some valuable coaching in the past, and was once again offering assistance, the only reasonable response was to dismount and hand her the reins.

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The Age of Antiquity

I was cruelly reminded of my age today. We’re 3 weeks into the fall semester, and as usual, campus is swarming with gorgeous young things who keep making me forget that most men my age have children older than that. The unusually hot weather has had a wonderful effect on their choice of attire. Cleavage is in this year. It’s enough to make a grown man cry. I’ll be lucky not to get arrested. And, considering that at least one of my regular readers has a daughter on campus, maybe I should stop now. But anyway, back to that age thing. It’s easy for a man in these surroundings to forget how old he is, only to be cruelly reminded. But surprisingly, today’s reminder actually had nothing to do with the swarms of teenage beauties that usually overwhelm my senses.

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