Everyone has one of *those* weeks once in a while, but it's been so long since I have that this one seemed particularly horrible.

Monday, I found out my pilates class was dropped because the administrators didn't schedule things right and we didn't have a ROOM to meet in. THAT IS THE THIRD CLASS I'VE HAD DROPPED THIS SEMESTER. And to be on the equestrian team, you HAVE to be taking one of the approved kines classes. There are six of them. Three of them involve swimming, and I am allergic to chlorine. Pilates is one of the remaining three. The Kinesiology Department told me to go to another pilates class and tell the instructor to please get an administrative add number. I hate red tape.

Also, I found out Monday that I am going to compete in the UC Davis horse show President's Day. Whoopee! My first show. (I'll be number 595 in the Walk/Jog class ;-) ) I thought it would be fun to ride with the rest of the team in the athletics bus, room with some of the girls, etc.

But Tuesday, I found out that because of some quirk in the NCAA, each team member is competing as an individual rather than with the team...we're still going as a team, but it won't be tallied like we're together...eh? As a result of this convoluted turn of events, each girl has to find her own transportation and pay her own hotel bill and show entry fee. Sigh. So I get to ride and room with my parents, who wouldn't miss it for the world. (Which is really pretty cool.) Never having been to Davis, much less the UC there, I asked where the Davis equestrian center is. One coach had never been there. The other could "remember the names of the street when I'm on them...You just drive around until you see the place with all the horses." (Fortunately, this latter coach later found me a xerox of a UC Davis map and highlighted how to get to the equestrian place--which is located on Equestrian Lane.)

Plus, there's the matter of several feet of hair to deal with. Evidently, when Western riders show, they pull their hair back into a bun and put it under their hats. My hair comes down to my thighs and is very, very thick. Ain't no way I'm going to get it under no hat, fool. I bought a little bun-maker thing, and hopefully that and a lot of hairspray will at least get it all to the nape of my neck. Hopefully. I don't know why I can't just braid it.

Wednesday I walked into the pilates class I was trying to add, in my jeans, and asked the spandex-clad woman to get an add number for me. She didn't even ask my name, and said, "Well, maybe we can get you in and maybe we can't. E-mail me over the weekend to find out." Fine, I thought. I laid down on the floor so I could start the exercises, because it is the FOURTH WEEK of class and I have no idea what I'm doing. The instructor comes over. "You can't work out in jeans," she says rather haughtily. I tell her I didn't exactly plan this and that I will come appropriately dressed next time. "You have to leave," she replies. My other pilates instructor had no problem with jeans. Heck, you hardly even MOVE in pilates.

So, I decided I did NOT want to be in that class. To make a long story shorter, academic services gave me an emergency add card for a weight lifting class, which is one of the other approved classes. (I've been lifting weights for four years, so hopefully coming in late won't throw me for a loop like it would something else.) They also told me to e-mail the teacher, who is getting a permission number from someone else, and who I will then see on Wednesday to get the add number on the add card, which I will take back to academic services, who will then add me to the class. Oh, and make sure I get it to them pronto--Wednesday is the last day to add.

Got that? Good. Explain it to me.

Thursday, in addition to riding practice, mucking out three stalls, and class, of course, I had to help sell raffle tickets at a basketball game as a fundraising effort for the basketball team (and the equestrian team gets a cut for selling the tickets). For a painfully shy person, accosting total strangers and persuading them to buy raffle tickets is excruciating.

Friday, thankfully, was rather normal.

La"I have discovered that primal screaming is theraputic"Zorra