Stupid Horse

I guess I have a love hate relationship with my hobby horse. And for future reference - Shannon, Michael and Peter - the horsy will be referred to as mine because in my head it always was mine. I guess that is the spoiled and loved to death and "no one in the world but me" sibling syndrome you guess instilled in me. Sometimes I think you guys loved me more than mom and dad. But I digress.

So it started as and was always a love relationship with the horse. But once I decided that I had to have it for my unborn (but conceived) child and that it would be the perfect weekend project to re-pad and re-cover the darn thing, it turned into a hate relationship in about 5 minutes. Let. Me. Tell. You. That thing is nasty! Is stinks realllly bad, like smelly feet and nasty cheese all mixed together. It is dusty and disintegrating. And I know it's not the horsy's fault, but it's really hot in the garage where I was working. Since then a fan has been taken out there to keep us cool during various jobs. These things were expected, however, since the poor dear is 40 years old (at least 37 for sure) and a little wood work was expected but lordy. See last picture - what in the heck happened to you horsy? I will trudge ahead and I will laugh and smile every time my children ride the darn thing. For years to come!

A few P.S's for the close:
Yes, I know his face looks funny painted like that. Not too realistic, eh? What's up with those BIG black eyes?
Yes, we do watch TV in the garage. It goes good with ping pong and beer (or soda).
Yes, it does hurt your crotch realllly bad to sit on him. We'll spring for extra good padding!