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The Goals That Weren’t

The Goals That Weren’t

Each January, people start out the year with the best of intentions. We plan and vow to lose weight, get a better job, be more thoughtful, save orphans, read more, have less of a resting bitch face and try not to be a total arse all the time, and what have you.

Horse people are no different. We say we’re going to clean our tack more, ride more without stirrups, learn how to braid adequately, fit into our favorite breeches again and make the A/O hunters our beotch.

Alas, none of that happened. Because inertia, horse show hamburgers and, well horses.

You did well with your tack cleaning for a couple months. It smelled so good, it felt like butter and your trainer gleamed at your sudden improvement in lesson turnout. OK, you did well for a few weeks. OK, IT WAS ONE DAY, but that tack was freaking sparkly that day. Enjoy the memories.

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And riding without stirrups is great practice. We all know what it can do for our equitation and strength, yada yada. I also understand it somehow gives the essence of life to George Morris remotely somehow. Don’t ask me how it works. Just believe. It’s like Santa.

But, the one time you tried, you stupidly decided to do it on a blustering February day after your horse had been stalled for two days straight, and he yee-hawed you right out of that saddle onto the mounting block as you passed it. Good times. Your back recovered but, sadly, your desire to keep Georgie alive did not. Shame on you.

Those one-size-too-small beauties remain on the back shelf of your closet, looming threateningly as a reminder of all your horse show hamburgers and post-ride beverages.

Then you tried to learn how to make super pretty braids. You tried, you really did. You even created a few passable ones! But after a moment of superbly inadequate coordination, that needle went into your thumb instead of the braid, and I think it’s still suck in you. At least the trauma is still there, anyway.

And those breeches. Oh, girl. I feel you. Those one-size-too-small beauties remain on the back shelf of your closet, looming threateningly as a reminder of all your horse show hamburgers and post-ride beverages. I mean, those are kind of necessary sometimes. Diets that don’t include those are completely stupid.

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Speaking of needed drinks, your horse has added to that need this year. The lameness, weird eye injuries and 5,827 abscesses from this crazy rain-soaked year have resulted in him needing to be off about one out of every three days. So there went your goal for moving up a division, as you could never ride. It’s OK. You were kind of terrified anyway. I mean, I was. You probably weren’t. Whatever.

So now, as we reach the middle of the year, it’s time again to think of everything you’d like to accomplish before December. Write all those ideas and goals down, study them and commit them to heart.

Then go light that list on fire and have a drink and a snack instead. (Forget those breeches. They’re not in style anymore anyway.)

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