Here we are. We are here. There's a sky, and there might be clouds, and there's grass. I think there's grass. I keep my mighty steed's nose pointed towards that little white blurry box in the distance as I totally and utterly fake calmness. Wave to a few people coming off the course, make small talk about how the course is riding, look up at the box, and it still seems far away... and blurry. 

Pick up a (calm, we are sssoooo calm. Calm Calm Calm) trot (but kinda brisk, because the starter just called out our 1:30 takeoff countdown). The box is still blurry. Maybe my contacts are dry. Wait, I don't wear contacts. Do I need glasses? Will I be able to see distances around the course? Or avoid trees? Or will I end up as some funny meme on Facebook because my horse went one way and I went the other. Damn that's a funny meme. Mentally add "make eye appointment" to list of things to do. 

But wait, I could see fine in warm-up.  I did warm up, didn't I? 

"Number 187, you have 1 minute"

Because we all need a little comic relief... I present you, The Meatball Adventures....

AND SO IT BEGAN... 
​
It was late fall 2013 and my mom's voice was hesitantly excited about a group of weanlings that were going to the sale barn from the Southern Illinois University breeding program. They were well-bred.  They were handled. They were warmbloods. Therefore I wanted an the ugliest, gangliest one. I wanted a Meatball. 

While on the phone with her, I flipped through the pics on their Facebook page, and knew immediately that "Song of the South" would be my Meatball. He was potbellied, ass high, a little disheveled, and instead of the 'look of eagles', he had the 'look of slight confusion'. 

Sounds about right.