Merry states:
We must import our fashion culture, otherwise we’d live in baggy, knee length Bermuda shorts and Old Navy t-shirts.
Gee, that attire’s bad? Though, we in Northern California, particularly those on the chilly, foggy coast, wear baggy sweat shirts and pants over form fitting long underwear. 
Cheers, Maggi
Now, I must sign off b/c I have to go take the bar exam. I’m staying at a hotel in Pomona for the next three days. I am not bringing my laptop with me b/c cannot be distracted.
When the priest comes to give the little prayer thing at the wake, please ask him to pray for me.
Elizabeth taking her shirt off? One of the Mounties leave the honor guard? Oh, sorry, that was during the wake, not the funeral procession. 
take Fleet Apple’s name in vain (or Merry’s, Beezer’s, Elizabeth’s, AAJumper’s, Rusty’s…) OK, just Fleet Apple.
Yes! Free dermabrasion! And here I was annoyed that I had sand coating my face! In fact, I even had a little sand mustache from the mixture of my blistex (which goes everywhere with me at shows) and the lovely desert sand. And for the truck, there’s nothing like some good sand to really enhance an engine’s performance. The hubby is afraid to look under the hood. We expect the truck is now in desperate need of a new air cleaner.
As for pics, fortunately I have a good one from when I was there week 2. I almost didn’t get it! I left today and forgot to order it and remembered as I was 20 minutes into my trip home. Luckily I had my trainer’s cell phone # and was able to call and leave her a message, which she got (fortunately she checked her messages) and was able to order it for me.
As for this week…well, I would have been happy to be able to jump over 2’9" too…at least in the ring!!! You see, I have this hideously bad habit of getting nervous and shoving with my upper body (like leaning forward and throwing away my horse’s front end…totally throwing her off balance) when I don’t see a good distance. My eye works well in that I can see I’m getting to a bad spot, but I can’t decide if I want to add or leave that last step out. So my horse will stop because my shoving throws her off to the point that she just can’t leave the ground from where I end up putting her. Then, I get worse because I start getting more and more indecisive (I get worried) when I see that I’m not getting to a good distance…and it gets worse and worse. And in the warmup arena, I am almost perfect…every jump works out great and I never really miss. I can hold when I need to, press when I need to…sit back and not tip forward regardless of the distance I get to…it’s freaky. So I just need practice practice practice. And I know it’s me, not the horse, because she was fine for her previous owner. Blech. 
It’s a freaky mental thing with me. If anyone has any suggestions to help mental focus, please feel free to post them!!! I need to be more aggressive and determined that I am going to get to the other side! My poor trainer is so patient with me through all of this, although I’m starting to think someone just needs to scream at me to get me to be more confident/determined. 
Coreene, always after a quick buck, tries to come up with a business plan for an offshoot catering company to supply the Hack & Snack class.
Then thinks “Hack & Snack - Appointments” will be another spin off the H&S class. Different appointments depending on which type of sporting event.
Then she thinks “Oh, we could sell the saddle bags for this on QVC, too!”
Do a limited run, so that we can hold back a few, make them collectors items and have another black market for them on eBay…
Blah, blah, blah - sunrise, sunset. Every good deal gets closed. Pack up your briefcases, get the limo to the airport, and go home. Nice doing business with you, Wake Thread. This is the nature of the beast. It’s just as well - I’ve got faxes to send and calls to field. Have I mentioned that I am very busy and very important?
<<elizabeth, smiles glibly, jingles her curb chain bracelet authoritatively, pivots and walks away. But when she is about 20 feet from the Wake Thread, she breaks down, shoulders heaving. Sobbing, she wails “what am I gonna do without you, Wake Thread? Oh Merry, oh Beezer, oh coreene, suavereno, weeble, AAJumper. What am I gonna do?” Broken-hearted with agony of saying goodbye to something she loved so much, she weeps silently. . . . Slowly, though, her tears subside, as the plan hatches. A sly smile brightens up her tear-streaked face, as she mutters “I can sell the movie rights. . . .”>>
WOW! Whatta deal!
Do I get the horses themselves, or just pics…
And, with my memory, what if I want that nice bay mare that Barbi McCoy had… Old whazzer name. (Actually I remember that one — it is Clipse). But I forget the name of the wonderful chestnut owned by Kim Marconi and ridden by both Susie H and Kim to many championships – what a nice horse… Dern, I hate getting old.
Do I get even the ones whose names escape me?
Rusty: In terms of the good luck wishes. Which teat were you referring to, the right or the left?
LOL
I never passed the Bar exam but I tended it 
You are, of course, right. But I don’t have it in me to blame anyone.
I think I need to bring in the Italian half of my family to mourn and fight with each other. Do you know, will the after-funeral lunch be catered or will it be at Merry’s house, pot luck?
<<Sniff>> Thread, I never got to know you well, but I will miss you just the same. Of course, given that the heidi thread is kicking our respective a@@es at 24 pages, I guess you will soon be forgotten. Well, you were a good thread. A good thread.
[This message was edited by Erin on Mar. 02, 2001 at 12:34 PM.]
Merry, Beezer are you with me? The knife toting Labrador trying to break in through your Mom’s back window has got to go. We all knew he would end up being useful somehow. Merry you’ll have to do it since you are the only one who can catch him.
SAVE THE GOAT!
Trust me … even if the koi pond abates, there will be enough biological material for endless mounds of Merry’s Marvelous Muck Mud Masque.
AAJumper squeals with delight at the prospect of having a Lawn Darts 2.2a class in the jumper division. “Do you think they’ll offer a Lawn Darts M&S classic? I’d be sure to rack up points in that!!!” Captivated by her visions of grandeur as Queen of all Lawn Darts, she fails to notice the chaos escalating on the QVC set. She is awakened from her daydreaming by what sounds like dogs howling…but in fact, it is Merry, Coreene, and Rusty singing at the top of their lungs. After quickly taking a swig out of the pitchers of margaritas Rusty made, she runs out and joins the trio.
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR> Wal-Mart fake crystal decanter<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> LOL — That’s a redundacy if I ever heard one, unless Walmart has been hiding their REAL crystal decanters from me all these years.
And N2Jumper – nice pic. nice horse. good ride.
“Down doggie, Down. Stop doing that to my leg!!! Who brought these JRT’s to the wake, anyway???”
No no, says she dryly. Not Merry, her fairly stable state has collapsed. Beezer we all ask? So quiet, yet contradicting at times. Who, oh who could have whacked that poor thread?
And you thought this would be an easy death, (she says smiling)
Call the pizza guy, get the drinks flowing, it’s gonna be a long nite…AND stay away from that poor pygmy goat!! Goatkabobs don’t set well with sushi. 
Have you ever heard Larry Miller’s comedy bit, The Five Stages of Drinking?? One of the funniest comedy monologs ever…
LEVEL 1:
It’s 11:00 on a weeknight, you’ve had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have work the next day and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends. Here at level one you think to yourself, “Oh come on, this is silly, why as long as I get seven hours of sleep, I’m cool.”
LEVEL 2:
It’s midnight. You’ve had a few more beers. You’ve just spent 20 minutes arguing against artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you’re thinking, “Hey! I’m out with my friends! What am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides, as long as I get five hours sleep, I’m cool.”
LEVEL 3:
One in the morning. You’ve abandoned beer for tequila. You’ve just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you’re thinking, “Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!” At level 3, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his face. You get drinking fantasies (like, “Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.”) But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger…and he’s buying. And you’re thinking “Oh, come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours sleep…and a complete change of blood, I’m cool.”
LEVEL 4:
Two in the morning. And the devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf! This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar. Just because you don’t like his face! And now you’re thinking, “Our busboy is the best looking man I’ve ever seen.” You and your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an…after hours bar. And here, at level four, you actually think to yourself, “Well…as long as I’m only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as well…STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!! Yeah! That’d be good for me. I don’t mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards. Yeah, I’ll turn that around, make it work for me. And besides as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow…cool.”
LEVEL 5:
Five in the morning. After unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor (“But I don’t even know anybody named Ruby!!!”), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently…as that morning. It’s the kind of place where even the devil is going, “Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell at nine. I’ve got that brunch with Hitler, I can’t miss that.” At this point, you’re all drinking some kind of thick blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, “Someday I’m gonna marry that girl!!” One of your friends stands up and screams, "WE’RE DRIVIN’ TO FLORIDA!!! - and passes out. You crawl outside for air, and then you hit the worst part of level five - the sun. You weren’t expecting that, were you? You never do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see people on their way to work, or jogging. And they look at you - and they know. And they say…“Who’s Ruby?”. Let’s be honest, if you’re 19 and you stay up all night, it’s like a victory - like you’ve beat the night. But if you’re over 30, then that sun is like God’s flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, “I swear, I will never do this again as long as I live!” And some of us have that little addition, “…and this time, I mean it.”
Even better, you can download it off Napster (but better do it tonight, I read they are shutting down over the weekend) 
[This message was edited by dublin on Mar. 02, 2001 at 07:32 PM.]
[This message was edited by dublin on Mar. 02, 2001 at 07:38 PM.]
[This message was edited by dublin on Mar. 02, 2001 at 08:05 PM.]
Just popping in for a short visit as I’ve a previous engagement on our soon-to-be-record-breaking-thread. Did want to take the opportunity, though, to say, this - 
.
While you were sleeping, Tin’s mare gave birth - proving once and for all that while you gals sit around drinkin’ and mournin’, we are celebrating life.
I got two words for you, AAJumper. Darn Canadians!
Black dog: Go. . . . hunt!
(Shoot, Merry, what’s the dog’s name again and what am I supposed to command him to do? Could you write this out???)
AAJumper is unfazed by Beezer’s shove and scoffs at her claim of Lawn Dart superiority. "Hmmmphf…well, you may have been air lifted, but I have a plate underneath my eye socket as proof of my excellent lawn darting technique. A combination flip and kick to the face…it’s a unique move that I’d been working on for months. And, I have good aim…why, once I even landed right on a jump cup." With that statement, AAJumper pulls down her pants, revealing a large V shaped scar on her thigh. Just then, AAJumper realizes that the camera is running and directed at her… 
As she tries to pull her pants back up, one of the Jack Russells grabs the waist of the pants, and a tug of war ensues. She screams for help, but her pleas are lost amongst all the chaos.
Y’see the thread was just hanging around doing nothing and so I took it and made this costume.
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