Yep, I'm day drunk @ the 4Shoes for absolutely no reason.
And to top it off, I'm alone.
|Carolan's: the same as Baileys, but cheaper!|
Trust me, this hardly ever happens. I was going to say it is a rare occurrence, but I couldn't remember how to spell occurrence. Apparently, spell check is more sure of my lingering competence than am I.
Actually, I do have a reason.
Sort of. I ran out of condensed milk.
I'm probably the last person on the planet (other than Vickie, you know who you are Vickie!) that still uses condensed milk in their tea. Nothing else is as good to me, so running out is a small inconvenience.
So, no tea this morning.
"No problem", I thought, "I'll just make a little coffee & go Irish."
4 cups of coffee later & now there's not a chance in hell that I could pass a breathalizer. Let's be honest here, I'm finishing the pot as I type, so that makes it really 5 drinks stiff later.
Oops, I mean, 5 stiff drinks later.
Waste not, want not... as the saying goes.
I actually know quite a bit about passing a
|You'll never outsmart this thing, trust me.|
Not ON myself - on athletes, trainers, valets, officials, & guest drivers (in my career on the racetrack), including Rick Mercer & Premier Ralph Klein.
So I know, there is no way that I am safe to drive to town at the moment.
In a few hours, maybe.
Can you tell, I don't really even like going to town anymore? Maybe I just hit the bottle this morning as an excuse not to go shopping today... but it's just delaying the inevitable.
Drunk riding though? Hey, I really shine in that arena!
Well, not so much me doing the shining as my horse (Padre is a frigging SAINT. A horsey SAINT, I tell ya.). Padre shines like the midday sun when I'm drunk riding! So long as I'm sober enough to stay on (*like a burr!* Listen, I didn't say it was pretty. I stay the hell off his mouth & just do my best to stay balanced in the saddle) while he sorts or pens cattle for fun, throws in a few little spins or a nice short sliding stop, maybe take the woodsy trails & he pops over a few downed trees just to see if I'm still awake up there...
Well, that horse makes me look like a damn genius.
Or so it seems to me in my state.
I might just look like a damn fool.
Hey, don't judge me.
In fact, I challenge you right now to go drink for drink with me, & then we'll ride good horses & see who's still in the saddle the whole ride, despite whatever shenanigans may occur!
That's what I thought.
Where's my bff when I'm throwing out such boozy challenges? In AB, that's where she is.
*Shout out Marina!! See you May long, Baby!
Mr Shoes & I used to tag along with my bestie & her hubs team penning (for fun, not to compete, just when racing was on hiatus).
I LOVED IT.
Padre loved it more; give him half a chance to work
|Padre shows off his skillz with a sober rider*.|
*NOT Mr Shoes, who is taller & more rangy.
Not pictured, Padre hauls Angus cattle to the fire.
Anyway, there was a rule at the arena: If you came off your horse (for any reason), then on the next Sunday you had to bring booze for everyone.
I only had to buy once.
First, you come off, & if you're human, you feel a little sting of humiliation in hitting the ground as your horse looks back in amazement that you've lost your seat (probably in slow motion, so waaaay dramatic).
His eyes seem to say, "WTF lady? I couldn't have made it any easier for you!"
As he's giving you that stink eye for ruining his close to perfect run, you have already heard the universal gasp of the waiting penners & have had to admit that, dammit, you're just an idiot and there is just no need to call 911.
Then there's the laughter from the peanut gallery, amidst shouts of, "Get the hell back on your damn horse, you can still make time*!"
|In this illustration, I'm def the rider in the upper right corner.|
So yeah, there's all that love & support & (mostly) good-humoured ridicule around you. If you were drunk to start with, you probably wouldn't have come off at all &, if you did, you could at least have had half an excuse to ride like re-warmed shit. But we usually rode pretty sober... at least until late in the day.
Somehow your legs & seat still know what to do, even when you're half in the bag.
Looking out the diningroom window here, I can see my good old boy sunning himself up near the feeders right now, which is just about the same as him knocking on the front door & demanding my attention.
Or so it seems to me.
The grocery stores are open til 9pm tonight - odds are this sunny & warm weather won't hold that long so, drunk as I am (now 5 drinks in, because, can't waste coffee), I'm headed out to the tack room to grab his halter & call out to my good horse some such no doubt ridiculous names (Come here SmoogyWoodgyBear! *kiss,kiss* You know PaddyWaddy wants to take Mommy for a ride! Oh yeah, that's my good boy. Yes, I brought a butt-load of cookies in my pocket for the handsomest boy in the world. That's my good boy."), as he shoves his face into the halter & agrees to babysit my obviously drunk ass.
My horse is AWESOME.
That's an overly used word, I think, 'awesome' is.
But in this case, totally appropriate.
My horse is AWESOME with AWESOME sprinkles & a side of AWESOME sauce.
Long story short, not sure if I'll make it to the grocery store at all today (sorry, not sorry), but I'm sure as hell going to get a damn good ride in on a good damn horse.
Does life get much better than this?
Once I'm in the saddle, then the answer is, "No. No, it doesn't get much better than this."
The grocery store can sure as hell wait.
Peace Out Y'all, & (sober, or even somewhat tipsy) make sure you get in a good ride whenever you can.