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Picture me up in the wilds of New Hampster,er, Hampshire at the (in)famous State Line tack store. I've already spent over an hour digging through their bargain bins finding a pair of proper baby shit green breeches, a scratchy wool coat and a prim white shirt starched to the texture of canvas board. I have tied a dozen rat catcher collars around my neck by this point and the oxygen deprivation is starting to affect my vision. I'm tired, hot, and I haven't eaten for almost 6 hours. My partner in crime, Kimberly, is valiantly trying to push me on. We only have one more thing to get, just one, then we can go find lunch. Yep, we have to find the boots.
( Those who are about to die here... )
On the upside, even I'll admit that I looked pretty damn spiffy in my new get up on Sunday. I spent about 5 hours on horseback in those new boots, looking spiffy and having advil passed up to me. The show was a bust but the pictures will be nice. Carol walked right past me a dozen times WHILE I WAS ON HER HORSE and didn't recognize me. Of course, she'd never seen her horse all braided and shined up either. The last show, we went all natural. This time, I figured if I have to be in pain and bound, prodded and poked into "proper show attire", then Tisa does too. Muhahaha, braids for you AND you're getting your legs and face clipped. Misery loves company. I have blisters all over both feet, the inside of my left knee is one huge bruise where the boot rubbed, and my legs gave out on me when I first stood up this morning but I looked good. And that almost made it worth. Or at least yesterday, it did.
I never thought I'd be one of those "live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse" people. You think? Nah! Time to find a ball bat and go beat those boots until they supple up a little around the feet.
( Those who are about to die here... )
On the upside, even I'll admit that I looked pretty damn spiffy in my new get up on Sunday. I spent about 5 hours on horseback in those new boots, looking spiffy and having advil passed up to me. The show was a bust but the pictures will be nice. Carol walked right past me a dozen times WHILE I WAS ON HER HORSE and didn't recognize me. Of course, she'd never seen her horse all braided and shined up either. The last show, we went all natural. This time, I figured if I have to be in pain and bound, prodded and poked into "proper show attire", then Tisa does too. Muhahaha, braids for you AND you're getting your legs and face clipped. Misery loves company. I have blisters all over both feet, the inside of my left knee is one huge bruise where the boot rubbed, and my legs gave out on me when I first stood up this morning but I looked good. And that almost made it worth. Or at least yesterday, it did.
I never thought I'd be one of those "live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse" people. You think? Nah! Time to find a ball bat and go beat those boots until they supple up a little around the feet.
