Haying Weather

Yesterday wasn’t too bad – I only worked a half-day so that I could meet the farrier for Kip and take care of Lizzie’s leg, which is healing well (knock on wood). I spent a lot of the morning fixing bad copy. Two examples below:

Be decisive. Be different from the crowd. With (company name). Because we
have a number of top quality goods that will literally help you almost
carry yourself with genuine chic.

I love the “literally help you almost carry yourself with genuine chic” part.

Your lifestyle. Your choice. (Company name). We can offer definitive style
for you. And we can make it genuinely practical too.

Such. Bad. Writing. Fixing it isn’t my job, but how can you let giant piles of stinking poo like that just lay around for the whole world to see?

The first hay field at the farm has been cut, and they’re hoping to get it in before we have any thunderstorms. I normally help, and enjoy it, but this year I don’t know if I will; I need to put Lizzie in the mares’ pasture, not in the big paddock with the geldings, but the owner is insisting that he wants all new horses to go in there. She’d never survive – she’s never been turned out with other horses, and she’s too tightly wound. The guys would chase her to exhaustion, or to injury – they’re a rough bunch over there. Kip is the ringleader, and I know what he’s like. If he won’t let me put her with the girls, I’ll have to find another barn – I won’t risk it. Which means that I’ll lose the huge pastures and the indoor arena. But after her recent injury and Kip’s broken shoulder last year, I think I’ve had my share of bad luck.

Well, better run.