So . . . I’m kind of a dork. It’s true.
I grew up in a suburb of Denver. To the outside world, Denver is full of cowboys and people carrying lassoes around but really, if you live there, that’s not actually true. At my high school, not a single person that I knew owned any animal more interesting than a chihuahua. No one rode horses or knew anything about livestock or poultry or hay baling. To wear Wrangler jeans to school meant social suicide. A few people (myself included which could explain how I ended up here today) listened to country music on the sly but we certainly wouldn’t have driven into the school parking lot with the windows down and Restless Heart blaring.
Fast forward 20 years and several hundred miles and I hang out with the 4-H crowd. Really - 4H. It’s because of the horse of course. We aren’t yet to the point where I have the kids making their own jam and raising rabbits to earn ribbons but we could get there. For now, we are just involved with horse stuff and Reagan is preparing to show at her first County Fair next week. County Fair is SO much fun. It’s much smaller and less scary than State Fair and it’s free so you can wander through the exhibits of pigs and cows and goats as much as you like and still afford a funnel cake. I’m all about the funnel cake. There are also rides, but they look alarmingly rickety and the people running them look . . . well traveled? So I remind the kids of whatever large amusement park we last went to and try to steer clear of the rides.
Next Saturday, Reagan and Jamboree will ride three classes in the Open Show and then the following week, another three classes in the 4-H Show. I am so, so grateful that Reagan has chosen to ride English rather than Western. Her shows are full of disciplined riding and kids with helmets. The Western classes have kids whipping around barrels and running down lines of poles at 30 mph. Also, English riders do not have to wear shiny, snap-front shirts and Wranglers. I still can’t get over the jean thing. I’ll be wearing my Luckys.
I grew up in a suburb of Denver. To the outside world, Denver is full of cowboys and people carrying lassoes around but really, if you live there, that’s not actually true. At my high school, not a single person that I knew owned any animal more interesting than a chihuahua. No one rode horses or knew anything about livestock or poultry or hay baling. To wear Wrangler jeans to school meant social suicide. A few people (myself included which could explain how I ended up here today) listened to country music on the sly but we certainly wouldn’t have driven into the school parking lot with the windows down and Restless Heart blaring.
Fast forward 20 years and several hundred miles and I hang out with the 4-H crowd. Really - 4H. It’s because of the horse of course. We aren’t yet to the point where I have the kids making their own jam and raising rabbits to earn ribbons but we could get there. For now, we are just involved with horse stuff and Reagan is preparing to show at her first County Fair next week. County Fair is SO much fun. It’s much smaller and less scary than State Fair and it’s free so you can wander through the exhibits of pigs and cows and goats as much as you like and still afford a funnel cake. I’m all about the funnel cake. There are also rides, but they look alarmingly rickety and the people running them look . . . well traveled? So I remind the kids of whatever large amusement park we last went to and try to steer clear of the rides.
Next Saturday, Reagan and Jamboree will ride three classes in the Open Show and then the following week, another three classes in the 4-H Show. I am so, so grateful that Reagan has chosen to ride English rather than Western. Her shows are full of disciplined riding and kids with helmets. The Western classes have kids whipping around barrels and running down lines of poles at 30 mph. Also, English riders do not have to wear shiny, snap-front shirts and Wranglers. I still can’t get over the jean thing. I’ll be wearing my Luckys.
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