Someone needs to get my mama in law in here. She actually has a stake in Judy's lippi stud. Pretty babies, they are, and the arab crossbreeds as well.

(pant, pant, just arrived)

I took most of the baby photos of Pookie. (Pooks, Pooka, any variation)

I took a look at that informational web site. Pretty much what has been discussed in various writers groups over the years. Good stuff for the most part (not that Western site tho)

One thing to think about. Food. Horses are conditioned to spend great amounts of time grazing. Lipps are very easy keepers (don't eat much). They, and Arabs had much more stamina than most other horses. Judy took her first mare, Capria, on an endurance run once and beat the other horse (all Arabs) into the ground. The owner of Favory Arabs had challenged the tiny Lipps. He was properly amazed. (tiny is about 14-15 hands. A hand is 4 inches)

Pooks can separate his mind from breeding when he is in other situations, like dressage training. He will not, however, tolerate other males in with his mares. I am certain that war horses were either mares or geldings. I am planning a trip there in January. If you have specific questions, e me and I will ask. (If the need is urgent I can e Judy right away.)

My cousin's eventer loves jumping so much that he'll jump from one of their fields to the other in the middle of the night.

Ok, I almost never write poetry, but I've come up with a few. I thnk they might be decent enough with some work; I may try to submit them to the lit journal here at the university.

Rip me apart, thanks! _______________

Poor little girl, with your red tattoo on your sleeve.
Who did you bleed for?
Whose secret sign is it?
How many years will go by before someone knows
you branded love on your flesh for him, only him,
only him, forever.
And that you have been waiting -- as long as it takes --
whatever it takes,
whatever.

And now he sits, runs a finger along that red heart,
and smiles. It's him,
but as you hand him his beer and walk away
you wonder vaguely why he looks familiar.

Don't love the ending. Hmm.

My cousin's eventer loves jumping so much that he'll jump from one of their fields to the other in the middle of the night.

I remember seeing a special about stunt horses, and there was one horse who was really good at falling down as if shot. Apparently the horse enjoyed this stunt so much that he'd do it at random when out in the pasture. Gallop, gallop, gallop, THUMP....Gallop, gallop, gallop, THUMP...

ION, I am progressing not at all on NaNoWriMo.

Erin, at first glance, I really like the poem. I can see why you're a bit undecided on the ending, but I can't put my finger on what it needs. If I think of anything, I'll post.

Erin, I'm with on something off - damned if I know what - about that last verse. I think it may be the "It's him".

In other news:

1. I have BOOKS!

2. Amazon is now taking customer reviews of "Weaver", and recs as to what to pair it with. Go! Go forth, my beta readers, and love me to Amazon! Remember, it's the Tuscan Bitches compound at stake...

Ok, let's see...

Poor little girl, with your red tattoo on your sleeve.
Who did you bleed for?
Whose secret sign is it?
How many years will go by before someone knows
you branded love on your flesh for him, only him,
only him, forever.
And that you have been waiting -- as long as it takes --
whatever it takes,
whatever.

And now he sits, runs a finger along that red heart,
and smiles.
He looks familiar; wonder why? you think
as you hand him his beer and hurry away.

Ooh! Much better! It makes her hurrying away stand out so much more.

Yes. That falls far more effectively, methinks.

BTW, Deb, I hope to have some comments to you sometime this weekend.