Monday, May 7, 2012

Retail Therapy and Frustrated Tracks

This weekend was the big tent sale that our local tackshop has every spring. I swore I was only going over to pick up a new girth, fly spray, and some leather oil. I arrived at around 9:30 after leisurely making my way over from the farm with a stop at Starbucks for fuel along the way.  I knew from previous years that the place would be hopping. When I made the turn in to the long drive between the pastures that led to the tack store there were already cars lining both sides of the drive, in the pastures and packed every which where.

I had driven my car vices the truck, thank the Gods for foresight, and as I saw an SUV getting stuck in one of the pastures I endeavored to find a safer parking space. I managed that and then hit the big tent.  The human traffic in there wasn't so bad, and there were some fabulous things to be had. But I stayed strong and after surveying the tent went in to the store itself.  I am not a social person. Part of it is I just don't like people. I have a very low tolerance for stupidity and rudeness so parties and shopping are usually not fun for me. Grocery shopping is particularly trying for me and I endeavor to keep all the ugliness inside my own head. So when I opened the tack shop door and saw the mass of humanity crushed in together and milling about in chaotic confusion I almost backed right back out the door. Large groups of chaotically moving people make me anxious and I have to stop myself from wanting to hit people so they will get out of my way.

Just one of the many reason I do not ride at hunter/jumper shows anymore. Deep breath, deep breath and I plunge in. I try on a couple of hunt coats(I really need a new one since I have been wearing the same one since I was sixteen) I eye the bridles and resist, I collect some push in fence posts for the overnight camping my husband and I will be doing this weekend. I sigh over a dove grey Ariat polo shirt, and can't stop myself, I add it to my slowly growing pile that includes another pair of Tally Ho socks(LOVE them!) I throw on a pair of breeches(If I am going to be bad, I am going to be all the way bad, or nearly). I tack on a cushy saddle pad to match the shirt, and a whole bunch of other stuff.  *face to palms*  I should never have gone to the tackshop without my husband who usually keeps me on track.

I didn't get to ride on Saturday because it rained most of the afternoon and evening. I really need to connect with the farm owner around the corner who has an arena with jumps AND footing. The next day I was supposed to have lunch guests who didn't end up coming so instead I did farm chores until later in the afternoon.  My husband and I went back over to the tack store (the gloves I'd gotten him didn't fit) to wait for the 1,000$ shopping spree give away. Along with that there were tons of other things that were given away including a brand new Collegiate jumping saddle that this really sweet girl won.   We didn't win the shopping spree sadly(I really wanted that new coat and bridle damn it) but we had fun anyway. 

Rush back to the house, quick change in to riding clothes and off on a trail ride.  I jumped schooled the mare-beast when we got back. She was not happy about trail riding and then actually WORKING.  We made some headway with the leg yields at trot and canter, but she was a total cow about riding the in and out I had set up. And for some reason even though she had seen my Blok jumps a million times she kept giving them the hair eyeball, and trying to run out of them. Looks like I will have to put the side poles back on.

I think I have decided to go to a HT rather than the jumping show, but I will be dropping down a level to the maiden division at 2ft rather than the recognized BN. Maybe, my mind is all a whirl and I need a good solid, happily ending jump school before I can committ. I just love my lack of confidence issues, they are so much fun. And you would think recognizing that I have them that I could just get over them. But I can't.  I'm trying though, and that's what counts.

Keep it between the flags everyone.

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