So more about yesterday, because today I was unconscious, though I did manage to make this fancy March 02' blog, afterwards crashing into the couch.
Mar Vista Stables.
Bubba the horse. snaffle bit. five mismatched chairs in front of the barn with an array of horse folk at random times sitting in them. Alex. Alex is 17 and a half, she is the niece of Woodie, she owns a red 3 year old mare. Sabrina her sister owns a gray thoroughbred, who is just as crazy and they like to ride in 'the valley', the ice plant void between the great highway and the ocean. Rick, a man in his late 60's, who's, I am not yet convinced, perfectly white teeth are his own, owns a horse or two. Rick #2, mid 70's, lacks the teeth but is so incredibly animate I can't quite figure out who he reminds me of. He owns a gray Arabian who the girls ride. Of course Woodie is there, and Pam, who gives lessons, she's in her late 40's and has curly blonde hair and a smokers laugh, every time I get to work she says, "ah kate, yah made it again." So we sit by the barn and make small talk with the boarders and gossip about the newcomers. There is a stallion in the barn now, an Andalusian, [pause for the most disturbing thing I've seen in a while.] The horse's every movement is breed into the creature and we all stood gaping, quite dumbly, at the lunging lunatic warmblood. Rick #2 "That animal's gettin' his balls chopped the moment he acts up."
Fortunado and Manuel are the other Wranglers, or Rancheros. Neither of them speak much english, so Fortunado and I make ugly faces at each other. I tease him by saying words really fast or incomprehensible, this embarrasses him to no end and more ugly faces. Fortunado is a bit of a jerk, and keeps hitting on the High School girls. Rick #3, he always worries the SPCA is going to close the stable down, starts in with how all we need is the papers to let out something about a ranch hand fooling around with a teenager and the stable is history. Rick #3 tends to worry a lot, and I worry about his sunburn nose. The SPCA is a constant worry for Rick #3 too. I wasn't about to assure him, best to keep the guy worrying, because he's always cleaning water troughs and picking up horse shit and it's kind of a running joke for the rest of the boarders who hang around to listen to him.

(okay I need to go to bed, but I wanted to say "Hi Michael we're totally going to the spooky lesbian bar in the mission. I can't wait.