After all the thrills of the previous two days, our BLM experience came to an anti-climactic close. We didn't enter Fender, Ella or Indy in anything, figuring (correctly) that they (and Nicole and I) would be pretty pooped by Sunday, and inevitably they would have had 4:52 p.m. ride times which we would have felt guilty not hanging around for. Tres was INFINITELY better in the fourth level championship, and Midge was perfectly pleasant and rideable, but both were totally out of gas. Tres finished just out of the ribbons, and Midge placed fourth on a 65 percent.
But we did an amazingly speedy job of packing up the trailers and were home in time for dinner, all without getting cold or wet. Holy smokes, someone buy a lotto ticket, because THAT will certainly never happen again.
So now we're home, and the 2010 show season is over. As a token of my gratitude for their stellar performances, my horses were rewarded with... fall shots! Lucky them. But their vaccinations were perfectly timed for what was going to be a pretty fluffy week anyway. I did make Midge do some ones today, only because he felt so nice in the canter (that'll teach him), and Ella is back in the double, and we're working it out. Tres has actually been spectacular, really forward and in front of me. And Fender... well, Fender spent most of Monday AND Tuesday passed out in his stall, and was so pathetic yesterday that I gave him today off.
And that's that. To top it off, we're being treated to a wonderful Indian Summer, temps in the high 60s and low 70s, with sun, sun, sun.
Yet, somehow, I've got a case of the melancholies. Maybe it's withdrawal from the highs of the week, or maybe it's just post-season let-down. I had goals and hopes and plans, and now that it's the end of the season but too early to get cracking on next year's aspirations, I'm feeling a little lost. Clearly, there is something desperately, desperately wrong with me, that I can't simply sit back and appreciate having some actual downtime. I've actually started cleaning my closets. Definitely some sort of psychotic break going on here.
The next function on our calendar is a visit from Colleen, my wonderful saddle fitter, which requires no abnormal feats of athleticism from my horses; after that, Michael Barisone comes again the weekend before Thanksgiving, but that's a month away.
So I'm feeling a little floaty, for now. I'm the sort of person who needs a plan to feel like there's a purpose, so without a plan, I'm a little purposeless. I'll get over it—I'm sure it'll only be a few short months from now when you all will hear me complaining about how nuts everything is, how we're running around with our hair on fire going from shows to clinics to lord-only-knows-what.
So I will enjoy the sunshine, banish my melancholies with a handful of the yummy pumpkin seeds I just baked, and finish my laundry. Yeah, yeah, all hail the conquering heroes... now back to reality!