Brittany, age 19.
Day 19 Festivities: Hunt Club Dressage
There is a picturesque horse stable/arena about a mile and a half from our apartment - The Hunt Club.  Ever since we've lived in the neighborhood I've wanted to attend a horse event there.  The problem, I've seen a horse event advertised once in the last five years.  Not to say there hasn't been more, they're just far and few between.  
Coincidently, the summer intern at my work is a horse rider (is there a formal term for that?) and happened to mention to me that she was going to be competing in a dressage at the Hunt Club!  Hot dog!  So Wyatt and I rode our beach cruisers to the arena and watched her "dance" her pony (his name was Daniel Son).  To be honest, I had no idea what was going on and I was really hoping there would be jumping.  As it turns out, it was kinda boring.  Wyatt thought it was all the way boring.  Luckily it was only 10-minutes and Rachel's (my coworker) mom gave us a step-by-step explanation during the entire presentation.  
I did get to meet Daniel Son at the end of the show.  He let me pet his nose which made me REALLY happy!
 fuzzy...
Something about me: I love soft fuzzy things.  Like horses' noses.  And more commonly fuzzy blankets and fuzzy stuffed animals.  I have a fuzzy throw blanket on our couch that I love to wrap myself in.  I also have a fuzzy blanket that happens to resemble a certain animal that I love to sleep with at night.  

3 comments:
Is your 19th b-day snapshot where I think it was taken?
I would have to agree with Wyatt on this one for boring. But, hey, it was on your list. Now you know you never have to spend another minute re-doing it.
Love, Momma
I have always wondered what it was like inside the Hunt Club.
funny that this was on your list. you should have put horse riding on your list instead...more exciting. right? i feel like when i got back from camping yesterday that you were all of a sudden grown up in your growing up pictures. weird. i was like, wait, you skipped some years. but you didn't. hmmm, weird.
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