I Am A 10 Year Old Girl

Oh my, with the seriousness and talk of serious things of a serious nature. I am sick like a dog with sinus issues, which isn't helping my outlook, as it were. Still, I can't leave my last post up as the first thing I see when I go to my blog (which I do approximately eleventy billion times a day to read the new posts of all my bloggy friends. I don't know how to do that google-reader thing!). Seeing "LOSS" in giant words every time I log on is so not helping.

"What might help?", I thought. Not another boring blah blah training post.

Ah, Tractor Supply Company, where would I be without all my impulse purchases when I stop in to pick up beet pulp and alfalfa cubes? Many dollars richer, that's for sure. But also without this!

For a mere 6 American dollars, I have a whole herd of poorly conformed and suspect-ly colored plastic equines!

This is nothing, by the way, compared to what my inner child wants to buy when she goes in that store. There are horse toys of every size and shape and use, from princess ponies with flowing manes and tails to a bucking bronco set. Giant soft, floppy stuffed horsies tempt me with their overall snuggability. There are Breyer models of Secretariat, Andalusians and Mustang stallions, to remind me of my extensive collection I had as a kid. There are stable kits with riders and jumps and barns and tiny bridles and saddles.

The only thing stopping me from buying something like a Pretty Pony every time I go in is the reminder to myself that I am, in fact, an adult, and adults do not buy toys FOR THEMSELVES. It's weird. Besides, when I get my "My Favorite Horse" action polo pony with matching rider box set home, what the hell am I going to do with it? Play? I don't even know how to do that anymore.

I can still pine for these toys, though, and stare longingly at them while petting the soft plush of the oversize stuffed paint horse. I could be shopping for children! Underprivilaged children even! That is, after all, the only acceptable time for adults to buy toys. Even horse toys.

Well obviously I broke down. It was some weird combination of register proximity, payday, and the justification to myself that at LEAST I didn't buy that $50 wool saddle pad. I was being good! Besides, I saw inside this tube-excuse me, toob-what looked suspiciously like a tiny plastic Miles.

Oh, that's not all. Meet man-made materials LaShore:

This LaShore hates cell phone camera flashes, apparently.

And I can't resist-Kristen, I instantly thought of Laz when I saw this plastic beauty:

I could go on and on....I started seeing horses from all over my barn in each of the cute but slightly deformed figures. Horses from my past are in there too. It's a very diverse herd.

So there it is. The 10 year old girl in me had her day after all. After their photo show, I put the horses back in their toob and put them on my dresser, where they will remain for the foreseeable future.

I mean, I'm pretty sure. It's not like I'm going to take them out and arrange them in various entertaining (to me) poses, and create scenarios for them to act out. It's not as if I would make them talk to each other or anything. Talk about strange.

Plasti-Miles says end the post now, Sarah. There's no graceful way to save this one.