Weather in mind: Partly cloudy Mr. Riley is going to be leased. My mother hates when I refer to it as being the sacrificial lamb to my career. "Stop it, stop it! I HATE WHEN YOU'RE SO SELFISH!!!" etc, etc She wants to get me a new horse to ride for every single show. I mean, I guess it's pretty cool, good practice for the Intercollegiates, but I'd still rather have my Riley safe with me rather than with some snotnosed brat whose mother is probably a trembling, meek, squeaky voiced woman who wears pearls all the time. I've got her all figured out. She's short and blonde, this girl, and she has brown eyes, and adorable freckles, and she's thin and perfect and wears blue jeans and designer paddocks to ride. She sits like a sack of potatoes, she rides hard and puts my pony away hot with ice cold water and GAH No, I musn't think about it. They'll take care of him. Blah. So that's my mind today.