Way Back When I Was a Cowgirl in the Old West

Have you ever heard your pulse amplified through your pillow?

As I closed my eyes the other night, my final thought was of how my pulse sounded similar to the hoof beats of a galloping horse.  I find horses to be beautiful, magnificent creatures, but you’ll never catch me riding one because, to me, they seem unpredictable and a little frightening.

I awoke around 2 am to the realization that I was not on the back of my horse at a dead run through the dusty streets of an old western town while firing my pistol into the air.  I couldn’t see what I was wearing, so I don’t know how well I looked the part, but I would like to think I looked a little something like this

Blanche Messier Foster

. . . and that my bum was planted firmly in the saddle.

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