Open Thread: Thursday (Late) Night Menu

My apologies to Bad Horse’s Filly for not posting this earlier:

It has been an interesting week. Very glad it’s almost over. We’ve swung between sunny spring weather and rainy spring weather. Both are welcome. So tonight’s menu features a primavera. Which is Italian for springtime. The carrot cake is not what you’d expect, it is a fruity, light confection with a definite spring touch. Buon appetite!
On the board tonight:
Chicken Primavera
Carrot Cake

Click the link for recipes and shopping list.

Also from BHF:

And don’t forget to check out JeffreyW’s rescue puppies! Also known as a giggle of puppies.

Open Thread:… And A Pony!

Well, a horsie. Tonight’s pet rescue heartwarmer, from commentor Nicole:

This is Cosmo (he’s the one on his back). I had no intention of acquiring him, or any other horse. Horse ownership is for people with money, land, or both. I live in New York, haven’t owned a car in 20 years, and am decidedly middle-class. So, of course, when I turned 30, I decided what I wanted, more than anything else, was to learn to ride a horse. At the time, there was still a riding stable in Manhattan, and I spent every extra dollar I could earn on lessons. Then the stable closed and I bid a tearful farewell to the horses who had bitten me, stepped on me, thrown me, and otherwise made me google-eyed with adoration for the equine. That includes the one who broke my knuckle. But it never occurred to me to own one.

A year later, I met Cosmo at a trail-riding stable in Queens. There’s no rhyme or reason to why you like one horse and not another (or why one horse likes you and another doesn’t), but I can point to two moments with Cosmo. On my 36th birthday, I took Cosmo out alone for a ride. I was depressed about this birthday, my career, my life, and I moped through the first half of the ride. And Cosmo, who hates not being in the company of another horse, moped along with me. The second half of the ride, he turned into a thousand-pound cannonball, determined to get home to his friends, ideally at a full gallop. So we fought the rest of the ride- I wanted to walk; he wanted to run. And not once did I mope about where my life was going, because I was terrified I was going to die. When we finally got back, both of us covered in sweat, everything I’d been depressed about seemed idiotically trivial and I had a lovely rest of my birthday. And made a pledge to never, ever, make Cosmo go out alone again.
The second moment was on the sad day I showed up for a ride to find out this stable, too, was closing. My husband, who is not a rider, but will try his best because he knows I love it (if he were a horse, you’d call him “willing”), went along on a last ride, me on Cosmo, him on another horse. When we stopped for a break Cosmo sidled over and laid his head on my husband’s knee. My husband looked down, delighted at the spontaneous affection, and Cosmo then wiped his mouth on my husband’s jeans, leaving a trail of spit from thigh to ankle. You’ll never convince me horses don’t have a sense of humor.
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