MY KINGDOM FOR A TOWEL

I am just getting back into the habit of going to the gym.

Part of me ROARS every time I begin to put my workout stuff in a bag - "What?! There is so much HERE that needs to be done! Why are you wasting time going into town!!??"

And there is an insistent nagging voice that says that all I need to do is go outside and just go for a walk around the block here at home (which is just a little more than 2 miles for me).

However, the more persuasive and seductive voice is the one that softly whispers, "Why don't you just go ahead and take a nap instead?!"


For this past week I have been good about ignoring all this and getting to the gym to do a little BABY workout - I am in poor enough shape that a 20 minute walk knocks me out.

But yesterday I forgot something.

No, I remembered my new workout shoes - I even took TWO bras (one by accident) and a change of clothes - I took my favorite workout shirt (the gray one).

But I forgot to take a towel for my shower.


I did get spoiled at my old gym, which provided unlimited amount of clean, fresh white towels for wiping your sweaty brow, and in a pinch serving as a towel for your shower.

My current gym does not have any such service.

So standing there, no towel, half-naked, sweating, still breathing hard, I reviewed my options:

--- I could put back on my sweaty gym outfit, ignore my in-town errands and simply drive back home and take a shower there.

---  I could wipe myself down with paper towels ("spit bath" is what the Army calls it)

---  Or I could use what resources were available - a hand-towel and a face-cloth.

Believe it or not, you can get pretty dry using just a hand-towel.

GETTIN' DOWN AND DIRTY

I don't mind dirt.


I try to keep my fingernails clean, I vacuum, I dust things when it becomes too obvious. I wash my hair a lot, and I take a bath almost every night (not for cleanliness so much as relaxation).

But I also live in southern Arizona, where dust is simply a significant part of the environment and our culture - sparkling clean cowboy boots that would be fine in New York City look silly down here. Same with real pick-ups and blue-jeans.

(Although I still can't get over paying money for jeans that LOOK worn and have holes. I could have made millions if I'd saved all of mine and kept them to sell on ebay)

And I must admit, I simply love dirt from horses.

I love the way horses smell, I love grooming them, I even love cleaning up AFTER them. It's the exact same infatuation ten-year-old girls go through - I just never outgrew it... as well as some other pre-adolescent traits, my family would add.

But I have a unique specimen in my Najale.

He is a cuddler.

Which is real cute with puppies and kittens, but is somewhat ridiculous for a 16.1 horse who weighs almost 1,000 lbs.

The weather has been good enough the last few days that I've gotten back with some 'serious' training (serious horse training, by my definition, means you actually put a halter on and use a lead rope and ask the horse to do something... almost anything).

And Najale has been remarkedly good, responsing correctly to voice commands, lunging nicely and paying attention to me.

Er... maybe that 'paying attention' should be translated into the lanuage of Najalese, where it means "every-time-I-do-something-correctly-for-Mom, I get to come over and nuzzle-slobber-rub-my-big-stinky-face-all-over-her-shoulder-and-face."

Proof?

I took a shower after working with Najale for almost an hour - scrubbed pretty hard - and STILL got the white bath-towel I used to dry off looking like THIS.