Cozy and Warm...

I've gone shopping twice this week, in search of the perfect horse and rider winter attire. I've decided that I'm getting a winter coat from a tack shop this year, one that will be functional and warm, and machine washable for all the horse snot that is sure to be smeared across the front of it.

I looked at several winter riding outfits for myself and decided that, oh, you know, FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS is a little out of my price range. I was, however, at the designer horse stuff store, where the rich folks go and spend their bucks. Because, hey! What else are the rich folks supposed to do with their bucks?

At the designer store, we found a fantastic winter blanket for Zydo, one that is big enough to cover his large frame. It is even big enough to go over the big old lump of fat that has grown on his butt over the last couple months. Because his owner never rides him. BECAUSE SHE WORKS EVERY FRIGGIN DAY OF THE WEEK. SO yeah. I'm a little touchy because I've neglected my horse and been away from home and mostly I've just been wandering aimlessly from house to car, car to house.

Not only is the blanket a perfect fit, but it is a Pessoa blanket. PESSOA. This might mean nothing to the rest of the world, and that's fine. But to me, it means the Mercedes Benz of horse blankets.

Not only is it a Pessoa, but it was ON CLEARANCE for less than half the original price.

After we spent some time at the designer horse store, we went ot the more hard core horse store. This is the place that the real riders go to buy stuff that is going to be used for working horses.

And there I found a perfect winter riding set. It is blue, with a 4 in 1 jacket. The hood on the jacket is large enough to go over a helmet, and the snow pants have a full sueded seat so that when the saddle freezes, I still have a bit of traction. Because riding is actually all about the amount of butt traction you have.

I can't wait to see how many hits I get for people searching terms relating to traction on one's ass.

Checklist...

Makeup? Check.

Dress for dressy occasions? Check.

Shoes to go with the dress? Check.

Shoes that Mal doesn't hate to go with the dress? Check.

Ticket? Check.

CrazyMeds? All three varieties, Check, Check, Check.

Beer money? Check.

Extra ciggies? Check.

Mindless novels? Check.

Tampax in case of emergency? Oh, please. No one is that prepared.

In praise of the lumberjack jacket...

Last year I turned 22 on my birthday, and it was probably the best birthday of my life for a variety of reasons. The Berry Queen bought me my very own plaid lumberjack jacket, and I realize now that to describe a lumberjack jacket as plaid is redundant in and of itself because do they come in any other color?

I love my lumberjack jacket with a love that is fierce and strong, because it is warm and cozy, it is comfortable, it is plaid, it is soft. It acts as many things: a blanket, a comforter, a jacket, a shawl, and sometimes even a boyfriend. When I wear the lumberjack jacket I know that I can be single for the rest of my life because its like being wrapped up in something safe and warm and comfy and really, who needs a smelly man who's likely to leave razors on the bathroom counter when you already have a lumberjack jacket on hand? Not me, that's for sure.

Mal wore the lumberjack jacket out for a cigarette this weekend, and I think it was the first time in her life that she ever experienced the lumberjack jacket-y goodness. We were driving to a wedding on Sunday and she turned to me as we were lost for the seventh time in a random parking lot. There was an air of seriousness about her, a sincerity on her face when she looked at me and said:

"I'm sorry for judging you for wearing the plaid jacket."

"What?"

"No, really. I'm sorry for judging you. I wore it out for a smoke this morning and it was seriously so comfy. I get it now. I get why you love the jacket so very much."

I have to say that there is really not a conversation that I value as much as that one, and I know that it is a friendship based on strength and trust when she admitted that something so hideous and unbecoming can be so loved at the very same time.

I've decided to punish her for her months of ridicule come this October. I think she needs her very own lumberjack jacket, so that she can wallow in the flannel goodness even when I am not around. And then every time someone comes over and finds a plaid jacket jammed into the recesses of her closet, she'll have to flounder for an excuse as to why she owns such an abonimation. But then, while she's floundering, perhaps she'll realize that she doesn't need an excuse, and she can weep and proclaim her undying love for plaid jackets and hold it in her arms and she can know without a doubt that this is what true love is really all about.

I'm HOME!!

My weekend trip was so much fun I can hardly contain myself. I didn't get near enough pictures of things like the train and the things in the city; I'm disappointed in myself because at the time, I didn't want everyone around to be like, Look, that girl is taking pictures of a train. But now that I'm back, I'm thinking 1) Why would I care and 2)I'm a tourist, that's what I'm supposed to do! Sheesh.

The individual pictured above and I had a wonderful time: He showed me around the city and was incredibly patient with my unexplained and totally irrational fear of being sucked into an escalator by my shoe laces. We also went shopping and I managed to buy a new suitcase and a new winter coat. One weekend in the Big Big City, and suddenly I switch from a lumberjack-jacket wearing, duffel bag carrying farm girl to a suitcase-owning, classy wool coat wearing chika from the city.

I felt a little bit sad about my new coat because I know that it's beautiful. It was on sale from a ridiculously high price to a moderately nice price (Actually, sane and rational people probably would think that the coat was a fantastic deal; I, on the other hand, tend to weep at the thought of money being taken from my bank account over such frivolous matters as staying warm in the winter. Clearly I'm better suited to living in Texas.) The problem is that I was wearing it and I just looked like this person who knew what she was doing, who is capable of transporting herself from one point to another on a train, and after a while, I began to feel like it was a big facade. This is what I hate the most about being fashionable. Other people pick out clothes for me and nine times out of ten, they look incredibly hot and up to speed with modern style. The thing is that I am not the type of girl to be up to speed with modern style and quite frankly, I have to suck it in less when I wear the lumberjack jacket. This whole 'deciding who you are and what you want' business is tricky sometimes, but at the very least, I do have an incredibly beautiful addition to my outerwear wardrobe that will be appropriate to wear to different functions. The lumberjack jacket, however, will still be the one that I hold close to my heart.

Hopefully later tonight I'll have pictures uploaded to my other site that you can peruse through. There are only a few, but next weekend Mal and I will be going back to the same city on our way to her hometown for a wedding. So, hopefully then I'll be able to capture some neat shots that I can upload. I'll try harder next week to look like a real tourist.

Toonses