Carrie Seim > Quotes

“know the judges will be scrutinizing us from the moment we set hoof in the riding arena, so I need to attempt to look like I know what I’m doing. (Judges gonna judge!)”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Just try not to look so nervous?” Noel adds with a look of concern that is definitely not reassuring. “Why does everyone think I’m nervous?” “Probably because you’re dripping purple sweat?” Everleigh answers helpfully.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Squeeeeeeeak. Kay and I sit silently in the car as the garage door cranks open. She’s wearing her shrunken and purple-splashed Knowledge Maestros sweatshirt. I’m wearing my shrunken and purple-splashed button-down and breeches. “Well, at least we got all the bad luck out of our system early!” I say, trying to sound cheerful as Kay glowers from behind the steering wheel. “The day has to get better from here.” Crunch. Kay rolls over something. It’s my boots. Because of course I left them right behind the car so I wouldn’t forget them in the morning. Mission accomplished! “Okay, so it has to get better from here,” I say as I run back to grab the scuffed and dented boots and tug them onto my feet.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“We canter toward the first jump—it’s a vertical. I lean into a two-point position, and we have liftoff—Minnie leaps over the fence with confidence, clearing it easily, then sassily flicking her tail. I wish the judges gave extra points for flair!”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“she’s a “glass completely full and there are unlimited refills” type of person.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“You sure you want to wear your new fancy jacket while we’re eating pepperoni?” she asks, flipping open the pizza box. The steam from its golden dough fogs her cat-eye glasses. “You sure you want to wear your fancy glasses while we’re eating pepperoni?” I retort. “But, uh, good point.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“I flip through those two “fancy” hangers again and again—and even expand the search to the “not fancy” section of the closet. I scour the “outgrew it but not ready to say goodbye” section in the way back of the closet, but the shirt is nowhere to be found. Blergh! In desperation, I drop down to my pile of “let’s see if they still smell tomorrow” clothes on the floor, pinching my nose closed as I rummage through the mountain of stinky horse-themed tops and gym clothes. “Aha!” I bravely plunge my arm into the pile of stench. There, hiding at the very bottom, is the missing white button-down. Of course! I wore it back in October for my Amelia Earhart costume at the Halloween parade! It must have somehow disappeared in my Bermuda Triangle of laundry . . . for three months. Yikes. I”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“I turn back to my closet to grab the shirt, but I don’t see it hanging in my “fancy clothes” section (which is, in reality, two hangers).”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Amara and Silver Streak gallop toward the jump—Amara in a two-point position, hovering just above his back. She gathers her reins and leans into his neck, the thoroughbred gracefully lifts his legs in the air, and she sinks closer to him as they float . . . majestically . . . magically . . . effortlessly . . . through the air. Everyone in the stable stares, spellbound. I hold my breath. The world seems to slow down as I, too, lean forward and shift in my own saddle—soaring vicariously with them. Except I am now moving. And it is not vicarious. “Aaaaaahhhhhh!” Clyde takes off, bounding after Silver Streak. Apparently energized by a serious case of FOMO, Clyde decides he won’t be left behind at the boring ground poles. He strides closer and closer to the oxer as I jostle in my seat, barely clinging to the reins as one of my clumsy feet slips out of its stirrup. I slide off-kilter, slithering down the saddle leather. Suddenly the arena is zipping past me sideways as Clyde’s medium-pizza hooves gallop away. Galumph-galumph-galumph! “Whoa!” I yell, tightening my abs and attempting to grip the reins from my diagonal, half-upside-down position. And just as he’s beginning to stretch his neck into a gigantic leap, snatching us both into the Air o’ Doom, Clyde—for once—listens to me. Swooosh! He slams on the brakes, stopping short and veering left. My body, still screaming along at full speed, misses the memo, flipping above the saddle and then—wheeeeeeeee!—straight over the top rail of the oxer. And into the dirt. Thud. . . . My first jump!”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“My name might as well be “Wow, You’re Tall for a Girl.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Then I scamper down to the laundry room and yank open the dryer door. Kay’s mountain of school sweatshirts tumbles out, along with my breeches. But I can’t find my white button-down anywhere in the pile. I sift through the sweatshirts again, tossing them haphazardly in the laundry basket. Still no white shirt. I reach my hand deep into the far corner of the dryer and pull out the only thing that’s left, a purple tie-dyed shirt. Huh, I don’t remember Kay having any purple tie-dyed shirts . . . Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh nooooo. The purple pen must have fallen out of Luis’s jacket pocket while I was putting the clothes in the washer last night! And then exploded in the dryer! All over my white button-down! Which also seems to be several sizes smaller than it was last night. Did I mention this is not good? Oh noooooooooo!”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Are you nervous?” Kay asks. I wipe the sweat from my clammy palms onto my lavender breeches. “Why do you ask?” “No reason!” She smirks.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Queen of the #HorseGirls”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Now where in the heck are my breeches? I search my dresser, the closet, and various clean/dirty/toxic-danger-zone laundry piles. I empty drawers, tossing clothes left and right, but find zero pairs of breeches. Oh no, this is bad. I cannot go to my first horse show without pants . . .”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl

“Of course not,” I lie, wiping rivulets of lavender sweat from my forehead. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?” “No reason,” the team answers in unison.”
― Carrie Seim, Horse Girl