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dancing_crowThe Sunday show was late late late, because we had a judge who was easily flustered and slow. I fudged all the times when making the schedule, adding minutes to each ride so that even if she went slow the schedule would hold, and even that didn't work. She had a scribe who had tied a string to her pen, so she could snatch it from her grasp when her extra minute was up, we had layers of fall back positions, and the last rider still went an entire hour later than her posted time.
The riders were very kind, and I think they actually got pretty good feedback from the judge, but still. Ugh. Everyone was grateful the weather was fine. Perfect actually - horses didn't get too hot, humans were grateful for fleece and pockets, no rain, no dust, no staggering heat.
In the debrief at the end of the day, the observer in the judge's booth allowed as how the scribe had done her best, but you just couldn't expect JB to change at this stage of the game. And that became a phrase, with Capitalization: YJCEJBTCATSOTG. From there, the suppressed hysteria of the day expanded to fill the barn aisle. It was suggested that we should have a short story writing contest on that theme, but the poet complained that she was not represented. So we decided on an art festival. With crafts and writing on the theme, and M offered an interpretive dance, and pretty soon there was a kind of Dept. of Silly Walks stalking up and down, and it all went down hill from there. S says she is going to hell for thinking of that, we agreed most of us were headed there anyhow, on account of the indiscretions of our youth, and that the company was going to be Very Fine.
I don't know quite how to square atheism with company in hell.
The riders were very kind, and I think they actually got pretty good feedback from the judge, but still. Ugh. Everyone was grateful the weather was fine. Perfect actually - horses didn't get too hot, humans were grateful for fleece and pockets, no rain, no dust, no staggering heat.
In the debrief at the end of the day, the observer in the judge's booth allowed as how the scribe had done her best, but you just couldn't expect JB to change at this stage of the game. And that became a phrase, with Capitalization: YJCEJBTCATSOTG. From there, the suppressed hysteria of the day expanded to fill the barn aisle. It was suggested that we should have a short story writing contest on that theme, but the poet complained that she was not represented. So we decided on an art festival. With crafts and writing on the theme, and M offered an interpretive dance, and pretty soon there was a kind of Dept. of Silly Walks stalking up and down, and it all went down hill from there. S says she is going to hell for thinking of that, we agreed most of us were headed there anyhow, on account of the indiscretions of our youth, and that the company was going to be Very Fine.
I don't know quite how to square atheism with company in hell.