Last week my gal-pal Sarah and I trotted out my two new hats to the Devon horse show and participated in the hat parade. I went the conservative route in terms of design, something I’m happy I tried but don’t think I’ll do again. Notice how both birds are completely lacking in embellishment. I figured I would embrace the beauty nature had given them but in the end I feel like they fell short. Plus I only came in third. I think if I’d gone with my gut I would’ve swept the whole thing.
As soon as I snatched up my yellow ribbon Sarah and I embarked on our mission of getting as intoxicated as possible on the free Cartier Champagne in the judges stand. I, to ease the crushing sense of failure and disappointment in seeing what I felt entitled to go to someone else. Sarah, well she just likes free booze. We brown bagged a fifth of voddie, bummed some smokes off a carnie or two and called it a day.
You can take the girls out of Philly…but you can’t make them drink. Rather, you can lead a fillie to water, but…
Oh nevermind I’ve got to get back to work on a new hat. Sunday is another hat contest and I’m going armed with the knowledge of how these things work this time. Well, not really because I’m still clueless. Pretending to be wealthy is exhausting; I can’t wait until I actually am the real McCoy just so I can relax already and kick my feet up without worrying someone will see the trace of a neon green sticker on the bottom of my second-hand Ferragamos.
Until then, I will keep faking it until I make it. I’ll check in again after the Polo Cup so set your eyes to tranquil because my next post will be full of BLUE.
Today I finished my pheasant mount from yesterday; it is an open mount which means flying/wings spread. I am quite pleased with the results, and take comfort in that the foundation of success in a craft such as this lies in taking the right steps in the right order.
The weather is the #1 topic of conversation around here; hunting being #2, and sometimes the two are mashed together. Everyone talks about how cold it is but honestly I haven’t found myself chilly at all. Not like down in Philly, anyway. Perhaps it’s because I am in a house with adequate heating and the only time I’m really outside is to walk the ten steps to my heated car. No biking in the harsh Philly winds for me! I fear I’ll get soft, but at least I’ve got my hoop to work out on and keep me somewhat conditioned. It is cold out in the barn, but since I’m moving I really don’t feel it. Plus I’m layered to the nines. Every morning I usually put on at least two pairs of tights, thigh-hi socks, leg warmers, and steel-toed knee-hi combat boots. I won’t even go into the entire operation that is dressing the top half of me.
I am trying to wrap my head around the political views of the people I’ve met up here; I prefer to stay mum and keep an open ear before I form an opinion. All I know is that I get confused when they talk about how much they miss Bush being in office, yet get really heated when the subject of global warming comes up: “these guys said there’s no such thing, heh. Look around! The evidence is everywhere! Idiots.” Correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t it the Bush administration that paid scientists to deny the existance of global warming? Seriously, correct me if I’m wrong because I keep myself in a bubble and could be completely misinformed on this stuff.
I practiced on my hoop today and realised that leaving a metal ring in a below-freezing environment overmight not does not an ideal practice condition make. I had to wear my gloves for the first twenty minutes which made gripping quite a challenge. By the time I had warmed it up enough to be able to touch with bare hands, iI only had about 5 minutes of light left before it was pitch black. The novelty of spinning upside down in the dark wore off quickly. Tonight the hoop stays indoors with me.
Right now I am watching “Vanity Fair” and drinking a white russian. I relate to this Becky Strong character; maybe it’s the vodka talking but I feel I have the ability to adapt to any situation I’m thrown in and thrive . I wouldn’t call myself a social climber but I also wouldn’t shy away form the term opportunist.