Cowabunga Cowgirl

One of my friends in the FP has horses. Seven to be exact. And last week she offered to let me go riding with her while she trained one of her young horses. (I don't know horse lingo, so I'm writing this in layman's terms...and poorly constructed ones at that).

Note to my 10 year old self: riding horses is still as cool as you thought it was, except better because you actually fit on the horse and can even swing yourself up into the saddle unaided on the first try.

Thanks to my friend, I didn't just get to be cool and ride a horse, I got to look cool (a rarity) too. She brought boots for me and I found a pair that mostly fit. I've had trouble before with cowboy boots: while hypothetically the boot is the right size for my foot, I can't get my foot into the boot. I attribute it to having high arches (though it could be incompetence, me being a city slicker and all), which make it practically impossible for me to smoosh my foot down into the foot-space because I get jammed up in the ankle-space (layman's terms, remember.)

Somehow (read: with much tugging and grunting and pulling) I managed to get the boots on my feet. And then I got to walk around all cool and cowgirl like and ride all cool and cowgirl like. My cool and cowgirl like self deflated though when I went to remove the boots. My friend had to get out of the car, kneel down in my driveway and physically pull the boots off my besocked feet. She was laughing at the idea of my neighbors watching the event, so it took a little longer than expected to yank the boots off (that, or the fact that she had to squat on a practically vertical driveway and pull with all her might while trying to not fall hard on her backside when the boot finally flew off). I, meanwhile, was giggling and offering words of encouragement such as "Pull HARDER! YOU CAN DO IT! GO, FOOT, GO!"

So much for my cool and cowgirl like image.

--Lu