J. My wife and partner and soul home, who enables and encourages my fascination with my horse and our time sucking activities, who was the first to say, "he is going home with us." She, who is terrified of horses yet is the first to defend my need to cover myself in horse smell, has been unwavering supportive of this mid-life adventure. In fact, J is the only reason this really works.
During the week, when I go to the barn, she picks up T from football, takes him home, walks all three dogs, feeds the animals, fixes dinner, supervises homework and evening snack, empties and fills the dishwasher, and does laundry just so I can spend my evening grooming and riding. This last weekend, while N and I were touring the top of North Table Mountain, J was doing laundry, doing my ironing, replacing the internal parts of T's toilet to replace the defective mechanism there (plumbing is always my job), and cleaning the bathrooms, instead of taking it easy and watching football.
She has also recognized that having a horse is a budget issue of the Nth degree. I don't know how many times she's shrugged and acquiesced at that next thing I absolutely need (this weekend it was a cob sized dressage bridle, reins, riding gloves, treats and shin boots from Dover). For a woman who stresses about our budget and bills, she has been very supportive about the money pit that is the horse. I, in turn, try to minimize my purchases (I didn't buy the purple helmet I coveted, nor the Irideon breeches we looked at) to what is absolutely necessary or at least needed.
So, the bottom line is, the only reason I get to have my Best Rides Ever, is because of J. I hope she knows how much I appreciate her keeping our home and life together while I am out riding the hills and valleys of our neighboring plains.
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