Treatment??

Oh yeah...I left that little detail out, didn't I?

Yes, treatment. If you recall, I mentioned that something beyond the thyroid surgery might be necessary. Well, it turns out that it is necessary. No doubt about it.

I got a call from my doctor to discuss the pathology report on my now defunct thyroid. She was stunned by what the report said. It turns out that I had not two, but four tumors and all of them were malignant. None of them were very big, but apparently so many in one thyroid is not at all common. In addition, there was evidence of extension (meaning spread) that made it impossible for them to rule out the possibility that the cancer had gotten into my neck.

So here is the score. I am a male of almost 51 years with a multi-focal cancer of the thyroid. You can stop right there and send in the troops with guns blazing. That's enough to warrant further testing and treatment.

That means radioactive iodine. Wait until you hear how that goes. It should be interesting. My cat will have to move out for a few days so that I don't poison her. Nobody can get within 7 feet of me for that same time period lest they suffer exposure to gamma radiation. It would be a logistical nightmare if I had other people living at home with me, but as it is, it should be pretty easy to deal with. I'm no stranger to isolation.

I live in Maine, after all, and it's winter!

More later. With any luck, I'll actually have something about pony play to write soon. The Winter Flea is coming up, and I am planning on being there. Right now, I'm angling to make sure this treatment thing is out of the way before then.

Goals are a good thing.

Thoughts for the Weekend

I do hope I can get into my driveway when I get home today. No peace for the wicked - or for those who work in the emergency business.

It is supposed to snow all weekend so I have decided to take a positive approach. I will be home and pretty much curled up with the cat for both days. Although I usually enjoy breakfast out on Saturday morning, that won't be possible tomorrow as I am now on a low iodine diet pending my treatment.

If you have never been on a low iodine diet, it's a trip. No dairy, no canned goods, no soy products other than soy lecithin, nothing from the sea including sea salt, restricted meat intake, restricted grain intake, nothing with red dye #3, no commercially baked goods, no restaurant food, no pre-packaged food, and so on. You really have to read labels. Basically, you have to cook everything from scratch, and I do mean everything.

That's not a bad thing, though. Some serious shopping and a little time on one's hands can put a dent in this. I already have a freezer full of low iodine food and will spend most of this weekend putting more of it together. I will bake bread, prepare chili and corn bread, make chicken soup (I made the stock over the last two days) and probably produce another batch of pasta sauce in the slow cooker my sister bought me for Christmas.

That ought to make the house smell like someplace I'd like to be.

Other than bread, baked goods are something of a challenge. Egg yolks are off limits, so making a muffin that is not rubbery can be difficult. Most egg substitutes are off limits because they contain either salt, soy or whey proteins. For cookies, the only shortening that can be used is Spectrum (available at John Edwards), which is a palm oil shortening - and costs about $7 a tub. I guess that's one way to keep to the lower calorie side of things. Also, I am learning to substitute Splenda for sugar in baking - a fraught process for certain.

You learn a lot about the foods you eat when you have to be this careful and I'm glad this diet will only be necessary for a few weeks each year. It will be needed in preparation for annual iodine uptake scans for the next few years as we watch to make certain that the cancer does not start up again. You learn where to find the things that you thought were common (like tortillas that are actually made from corn flour) but turn out not to be, really. You learn how much salt the average breakfast cereal contains (any salt puts a cereal in the 'no eat' zone). You find out exactly which brands of granola (yes, I eat that) are ok in this situation and which are best left alone. And it doesn't hurt to have a little - ok, a lot - of help from the low iodine cookbook that I got for free online. It's times like this, though, when I wish my kitchen wasn't quite so small.

Still, I shall prevail, and it will be fun.

Winter Flea 2009

The 2009 Winter Fetish Fair Fleamarket was somewhat different for a few reasons. I wish I could say a pony's life is all sunshine and smiles, but that's not the case even in a fantasy world. There would be some surprises this time around, and none of them would be happy.

You have to hand it to NELA. They put on a great event. But it seems that the powers that rule over the Providence Convention Center decided not to extend an invitation to the Flea for this year. Rumors flew over the reason, including one particularly alarming one that said it was all the fault of the ponies. Remember the commotion about ponies walking around in the convention center last time? Well...

The rumors were not true. A question or two directed at some NELA folks quickly turned up the fact that someone high up in the rulership of the convention center didn't like what he or she saw in 2008 and didn't want us back.

Well!

The Westin was a little more reasonable. Not only did they want us back, but they were willing to turn the entire two-tower building over to us for the Flea.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that, due to the unavoidable reduction in floor space that this would cause, there would be no floor space for a pony paddock. Not only that, but we would be restricted in our roaming to the third and fourth floors. Well, ok. The map of the facility sure made it look as though that would still be pretty good. Of course, the map doesn't include the crush of humanity in its illustrations, so it's not easy to know for certain.

Because it would not be possible to use the convention center, all of the vendors would have to be located in the Westin. In case you have never been to the Winter FFF, there are LOTS of vendors - I mean, it's a fleamarket, right? They were located on the second, third and fourth floors.. On the second and third floors, they used the ballrooms. on the third and fourth floors, they used guest rooms. And they needed every square inch.

So with no open space for a paddock, the first floor ballrooms earmarked for classes and demonstrations, and not much left over, the ponies were allocated the third floor coat room.

Yup, you read that right. The coat room. I mean really, it was about all that was left. What else was there to do? And at least that meant we had a home base to operate from. We could get it locked up at night and keep tack and other equipment there without fear for its safety.

But the smaller floor space also meant that we would not be able to use those great stalls that we had made for the previous year's Flea. it also meant that we wouldn't have any space for general romping other than the corridors and function rooms - already full of vendors and visitors.

This was definitely going to be a grin-and-bear-it event. No problem. We're used to that.

All of this we knew before heading to Providence, of course, so we had the time to get ourselves adjusted and ready to face whatever challenge greeted us on arrival.

By this time, I knew about the whole kidney stone problem. I had had my attack about a week before and seen a urologist for a consult. We knew things were not good and could get a lot worse in a hurry and without warning. I could not drive to Mistress' house until Friday morning because I had to have a CT scan first thing that day. A quick trip to the hospital for that, and I was on the road with strict instructions to go to the closest hospital if anything at all went wrong.

I arrived at Mistress' house on Friday in the late morning. We planned to load the van and head down in the afternoon as we would not have access to the hotel much earlier than that anyway. Without all the setup that we had the year before, there really was no need to rush.

Good thing, too. Boston on a Friday afternoon is pretty harsh. It took us as much time to get out of the city as it did to make the rest of the trip to Rhode Island! And this is with Mistress, who knows every possible way through and around Boston that you could imagine.

The trip was uneventful except for the second nasty surprise of the weekend. Mistress told me that for a number of reasons, She would not be going to Camp Crucible this year.

Now, up to this time, I had not gone anywhere or played pony with anyone unless Mistress was present or close by. So when She said She could not go to Camp, I was nothing short of crushed. I had been obsessing non-stop about going to Camp ever since May of 2008, when I went for the first time. All I could think about every day was how I was going to get the time off and save up the money to go again. Those issues were dealt with by this time, but it had never occurred to me that Mistress would not be going.

This news cast a pall over the rest of the weekend, but Mistress has a pretty firm policy on moping, so that was not allowed. Still, it was one of those things that I kept remembering over and over and that seemed to sober me up just when I didn't need sobering.

There's this thing about what you know you can do and what you don't know you can do. It sets up a conflict inside that will eat at you until you do something about it. I knew I could make it to Camp this year but I had no idea if that would be possible in 2010. It's just not possible to plan that far ahead no matter how clear your intentions may be. So I screwed up the nerve and asked Mistress if I might keep my own options open with regard to Camp. I wanted to talk to Stormy and see how he felt - once Mistress told him Her news. To my relief, She gave me permission to go. That took some of the edge off. But between this and the kidney stones, 2009 was not off to a good start.

We arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon and checked in. Once that was done, Mistress, Stormy and I started hauling equipment from the van up to the ersatz paddock on the third floor. No matter how you split the atom, ponies and their handlers do not travel lightly. There was a lot to carry and it had to go a substantial distance, often involving stairs. This is where NELA scored another high five for me. There were lots of volunteer helpers who would often take the load right out of my hands and carry it for me. Nice!

We got the room all set up in good time and then began the process of sniffing out dinner. That wasn't difficult. The mall was still there, and to our delight, the Indian take out place was still there. That pretty much took care of food for the weekend as far as I was concerned. Well, that and the coffee nook on the second floor of the Westin. It was at the take out place that Mistress gave Stormy the news about Camp. He looked equally shaken, and the two of us spent a lot of private time talking about it. We both decided that going to Camp would be good for us because there were plenty of people going that we trusted and that Mistress would approve of. Still, the pall never quite lifted from the weekend. Everything got just a little weirder from then on.

The two days fo the Flea went somewhat uneventfully. Stormy and I did a lot of wandering about, a little cart work, some reins work and a whole lot of standing around. Not much else, though. Mistress had Her hands full with inquiring minds that wanted to know about pony play. We were not scheduled to do a demo as we had the last time, so we never really got much space to work in. Over all, it was a long way to travel and a lot of money to spend so that we could stand around in a coat closet.

But I'm not bitter about it. NELA had to do a lot with very little. I can't say I didn't have a good time at all, either. There were interesting things to see and watch, there were lots of friends I normally don't get to see, and as short as it was, there was time to spend with Mistress and Stormy.

Given the circumstances, I refrained from doing the sorts of things I normally do when I get bored. It made no sense to make trouble for Mistress given the narrow scope of our activities. That would not have been humorous. It would have been an inconvenience for Her. While I enjoy the occasional high jinks, I am not about making trouble and this was not the time or place.

But there was something beyond my control that made for a few smiles. You see, while the Convention Center did not want the Flea on its premesis, there is apparently some sort of deed that requires the Westin to grant access for the general public wishing to get into the mall. There is a public walkway through the lobby of the Westin from the street and the Convention Center as well. This meant that patrons of the Convention Center and off the street had occasion to come face to face with FFF participants.

That made things interesting when some of those patrons from the Convention Center happened to be little teenie tweenie cheerleaders who looked for all of me to be in the upper elementary schoold age range. These kids were all dolled up in sparkly mini skirts with bare midrifts (many of which had no business being bare, frankly), with big hair, gallons of makeup and glitter on their faces.

What are some parents thinking?

Every effort was made to keep these...innocent...kids from seeing the FFF activities. Curtains were put up in common areas and crowds were expected to remain on their respective sides to avoid contact.

Right. Have you ever seen what happens when you tell kids not to look behind a curtain? There were cheerleaders keeping watch while their friends had a good look. Another told her parents that she thought the ponies were really cool. Tha parent thought that was cute until they got a load of what sort of ponies the kids were talking about.

Hey! Don't blame us. We were on our side of the curtain! Minding our own business and all! We were allowed to go anywhere we wanted at the Flea. Our restriction to the thrid and fourth floors was for pony activities, not casual walking around.

Then there was the food court at the mall. People from the general public, the cheerleading competition and the Flea were intermixing for two nights. There were some funny visuals at odd moments that still stick in my mind.

But in all, it was a somewhat more somber affair than the year before. There was unhappy news and unpleasant surprises enough to keep clouds in the sky. I can only hope that this year's Flea will be a little better. At least Mistress is listed as a presenter this time around. A demo is always fun to do.

The Year That Was...(continued)

Back in early September I gave you a brief rundown of events in the year that had kept me out of the blogging business. I said I would blog more frequently after that and then pretty much disappeared once again. The reason for that is because the perils and putfalls of Rusty did not end with that chapter. They continued on.

I'm not into making excuses for things, but for crying out loud, someone make it stop! There is no safe word for real life and we generally have to deal with what is handed to us, but one can get to feeling as though his fair share has been had.

So okay, what happened? Well...

If you recall, I had a tooth that gave me some problems. My bit may have played a role and such. I had the new crown for a short while when the tooth broke above the gum line. That necessitated another trip to the dentist. The situation is now under control once and for all, but what happened next is the real nugget here. I got out of the dentist chair - very sore in the mouth, mind you - and headed off to another doctor's appointment.

This one had been set up in April. It was now November 2. Specialists book way ahead. At issue was my blood sugar. It tends to run high at odd times and we wanted to look into that. So a visit with an endocrinologist was in order. She looked at my readings and noted that I have been steady for over 10 years, so there was nothing to worry about and probably wouldn't be for many years to come. We would follow the sugars annually just to make certain. But the diet and exercise program seemed to be doing its job.

Great news! At last!

Then she told me to get up on the table so she could examine me more closely. I sprang from my chair like a gazelle and sat nice and still for her so that she could do her thing.

That's when she found the lumps on my thyroid.

Long story short, it was cancer. It was a very slow-growing sort that posed no immediate threat to life, but it meant that the thyroid would have to go. That happened on December 17 and I am now sitting at home recovering from the surgery.

I am so glad this year doesn't have any more months to it. No telling what it would fork over at this rate.

So this will go down in the history of my life as the year that wouldn't quit sucking. But while that may be true, it is also true that my life still has wonderful people in it. They include Stormy, Mistress and all the wonderful pony folk who make life fun and interesting whenever we can find the time to get together. My family has been a great source of comfort and support, and the people I see on a daily basis have been really great all along.

This isn't over yet. There are tests yet to do and there may be further treatment, but that treatment, if required, is pretty easy to go through and doesn't cause a lot of the things we normally associate with cancer treatment. It's a one-time thing and it's done. Then it will be an annual scan just to be sure for a few years.

People do well with this sort of cancer, but it's really something the way that word plays with your head when it is applied to your body. And then there are the permanent changes...insurance plans for which I will no longer qualify because of the diagnosis; medication that I will have to take for the rest of my life if I don't want to get very sick...

Yeah, life will be different. But this pony will march on and look proud in the process. I am headed for the winter Flea again this year (good gods...I haven't even finished my piece on last year's Flea yet!) and then who knows? I do hope for Camp again. But if I've learned anything from 2009, it's that nothing can be taken for granted.

We are fortunate for everything we have.

"What's In It For You?"

I've heard that question more than once. The first time was in May of 2008 following the Romp in Central Park. I was standing on a tiny yoga mat in my stall and could not move much. The problem was the floor. It was hardwood and new. That meant it was not only easily marked up by my hooves, but also slippery in a way that would ensure a quick meeting with my butt in a very painful manner if I moved.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when, standing there all dressed up with nowhere to go, the question of what was in this for me surfaced.

At other times, the question has arisen spontaneously. Most recently, it came up during a camping weekend sponsored by Northern Maine Kinksters. Mistress, Stormy and our new stable girl Jen had come up for the event and we spent two days doing no holds barred pony play. I'll tell you more about that soon. But again, someone asked what I got out of this pastime.

It's a good question and I have spent some serious time thinking about it. I know I have written about the why of pony play from my own perspective (it's the only perspective I've got, after all). But I have tended to focus mostly on why I do things rather than what I get out of them. Sound like the same thing? Not so fast.

Deciding why I do what I do implies some degree of forethought - as though the need to rationalize my way into something is inherent in the decision. Perhaps it is, I don't know. Rationale has little to do with submitting my back for a striping or my backside for a righteous whacking with a crop. But whatever.

So what do I get out of this? How about the continued effect that the 'fetish fitness program' as Mistress calls it has had on my health and physical well being. I'm not fond of going to the gym but I do it regularly. Because I do it to be a better pony, I consider gym time to be an act of submission to my Mistress and a way of fulfilling the promises I have made to her. I enjoy my hikes and don't need a reason to do them. My weight is down, my muscle is up and I feel great despite the health problems I have had this year. So I guess you could say I get better health out of being a pony.

But you can get that out of a lot of activities and for lots of reasons. You don't need to enter an altered state of consciousness or have the blood brought to the surface of your skin to attain the glow of good health. It's a nice byproduct of pony play, but it isn't the impetus that keeps me here.

What I truly get out of it - what's in it for me - is something that I discovered only after I had plunged in. It may sound a bit corny to the jaded, but it's true. What I get out of pony play can be summarized in two words.

Human touch.

Ok. This is going to sound sad to some but bear with me.

I live alone. I have lived alone for over thirty years. At the age of 50, I measure the time between intimate (read 'sexual') contacts with others in years. But at the age of 50, I feel differently about that than I did a couple decades ago. It's the way things are. So it's no surprise that I grab on to Mistress and Stormy when I get the chance. It's always an incredible pleasure to see them coming. And it's very sad when I have to watch them leave. Making the time and creating the circumstances for contact takes some effort.

Perhaps pony play is a wild construct for something like this, but one blogger saw the intimate relationship that exists between me and my Mistress when we were working together at the 2008 Winter Flea, so I know it's real.

What's also real is the increasing fondness I have for Stormy. We spend a fair amount of time on the phone keeping up with each others lives. We delight in each others company and do just about everything together when we make time to be together. At Camp Crucible this year, we were nicknamed 'The Bookends'.

You don't get this just anywhere. It's the soothing embrace of my Mistress after a good dungeon session that brings tears to my eyes. It's the gentle wash down after working so very hard for whomever is handling me during a pony session. it's the care and feeding that I get when I am a beast of burden.

It's the constant discuvery of a self that I never knew existed and by which I am constantly fascinated.

And it's the words, "I love you," spoken by someone I love - and didn't know before this.

That's what's in this for me.

The Year That Was

I guess things can conspire to sidetrack anyone no matter how determined they may be. I have gotten several emails over the past few months from people who follow this blog asking me when I would be posting again. I started the CTK stories back in January. Following my usual pattern, they should have been finished a long time ago. I have stories backed up - well, a couple of them anyway - that I will get posted soon enough. But for those of you who had to wait long periods of time for your fix, my sincere apologies.

By way of a brief explanation, I offer the following. I will keep details to a minimum, but here is what 2009 has looked like to me so far:

New Year's Eve - traveled to Massachusetts with a horrible toothache. Visited the dentist on my return. Result; one root canal and one crown. What a nice start to the year. This was probably caused in part by my bit - or more precisely, by the way I often pushed my bit onto my front teeth so I could clean the drool off of it. That may have loosened the crown that had lived there for 22 years without trouble. Decided to look into a new bit made for human ponies. I found a nice one and will tell you about it soon.

February 6, 2009: Remember that kidney stone I had in the first part of My Kinky Texas Adventure? I awoke with another one at 4 a.m. this morning. Tried to man up and let it run its course without a trip to the emergency room. Three hours later, it was no use. Called the ambulance and took a ride. The PA who saw me went berserk when he saw my CT scans from six frikin' months ago. Seems I didn't have little stones that move along once in a while. It turned out that I had monster stones in both kidneys that were dropping the occasional piece off. The stone on the left side was 14 mm in diameter and about to cause big problems - at least, that was the case six months before! Nobody seemed at all worried about it then. They should have been.

This discovery precipitated three surgical procedures and one flaming kidney infection before it was over. By then, it was late July. And it isn't over exactly. I still have one stone in the right kidney, but that one will only come out if they drill a hole in my back and I'm not up for that at this point. Enough for one year.

Add to all of this a busy summer schedule, work, and my continuing efforts to acquire a business and, well, that makes for a pretty full plate. It's not that I couldn't scratch out the time to write, it's that I couldn't get into the right frame of mind. There were too many other concerns tugging at me. And believe me, this was a very short synopsis.

There is more to come. We attended the Winter Flea again this year. Stormy and I went to Camp again - without our beloved Mistress who could not make it this year. We marched in the Boston Pride Parade just before summer became a sodden mess, and now here we are. I am just back from a two-day camping trip with Mistress, Stormy and our new stable girl Jen. So there are stories to tell.

I'll be doing that very soon.

I'm fine. Really.

My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 4

Wow. This is the story that just won't write itself! Apologies to Clover for the long wait. But this is the final installment. I have new stories to tell and they really will be appearing soon.

As I said earlier, the CTK Jamboree was an intense event. There were games and competitions, meals, socializing and generally a lot of energy going constantly all weekend long. When more than 20 people cram into a house and get this active with each other, things are bound to happen. There are those moments of personal triumph and failure. That shouldn't surprise anyone.

I had both types of experiences, but they still took me by surprise.

Probably the greatest anxiety for me was the dressage event. For the uninitiated, dressage is the art of training a horse in precision of movement and discipline. It's easy to see how this would adapt well to the scene.

Mistress has been training Stormy and I to a system of wordless crop commands. The idea is for us to work off reins using sight cues. Because we had been at this for a while, Mistress felt that we should enter in the advanced class. To Her, it is far better to crash and burn in the advanced competition than to prevail as a beginner when, in fact, you are not a beginner. So we signed up for the advanced dressage competition. This meant no verbal communication, a more complicated pattern, and more compulsory gaits.

The anxiety came from the fact that the ponies were not allowed to see the pattern before the test. That is quite normal in these situations, so there was no argument on that point. It's just one of those things that will cause no problem for some and drive others up the wall. I landed somewhere in between. I knew our system and felt prepared to do as I was told by the signals. Still, the element of not knowing what was coming - ordinarily such a turn-on for me - was filling me with the desire to get it over with. Probably that's why I decided to go first when Mistress gave me the option. It's kind of odd, but Stormy and I sort of switched roles on this. Where he had been rather cagey about the dressage event and I more calm at first, now that the time had come, I was the jittery one. Perhaps it had something to do with the comment that Mistress had made after studying the pattern.

"There's one place where a pony's brain might explode, but then we will have a pony brain to play with!"

Ok, let's do this in good fun.

There were ponies in line ahead of me and I did the right thing by not watching out the kitchen window, which afforded a nice view of the dressage ring. I waited patiently and as calmly as I could. When my turn came, I walked out calmly and awaited my first signal from Mistress.

We began our test with a trot to center and a bow to the judges. Then the test began. I did the very best I could and tried very hard to make Mistress proud of me. I went off pattern once when I failed to understand one signal, and I might have turned in the wrong direction at another point, but overall, I thought I had done well. Nothing special, but well for a first time competitor.

When the ribbons were awarded I discovered to my shock and amazement that I had not only done well, I had taken Reserve Champion. For those unfamiliar with these things, that means second place. Foxy Davis' Firefox had taken Champion. What an honor to come so close and be surpassed only by such an accomplished ponygirl.

That was the victory for me. There would also be humbling experiences later on.

Mistress had spent some time working me to the carts before the events started. That was one advantage to arriving a couple days early. Stormy is a champion in cart work, taking Grand Champion at Floating World for a blindfolded cart pulling routing that Mistress had put together for him. We sort of figured he would do well on this, so Mistress spent extra time with me as I had so little experience with carts and blindfolds.

Strangely, the idea of pulling a cart while blindfolded didn't scare me at all. Not only did I feel capable and ready to have a go at it - my practice session having gone quite well, thank you), but I even felt comfortable. I wasn't nervous at all.

Never mind that I had not seen the course. Why would I need to see a course I was going to be driven through blindfolded?

Perhaps I should have taken a cue from the reluctance all the other ponies showed when the ring steward asked who wanted to go first. But when nobody spoke up, I jumped right in. Mistress was agreeable, so off we went.

I wanted to do this at speed. I really wanted to trot my way through this course, and after the practice session I had had a couple days before, I saw no reason why that wouldn't be possible. But very soon after leaving the starting line, I discovered just how disorienting it could be to have a blindfold on. Now, I wasn't new to them, and I had learned to get over my fear of them at our little training spot in Derry, NH. But in this strange field (or strange to me, anyway) down in Texas, nothing seemed to make any sense.

Really, that's the nub of the problem. A pony wearing a blindfold should never try to make sense of anything. He should just listen to the reins and trust his handler. But I guess I was still trying to map out the field in my own head while figuring out where Mistress wanted me to go. It was a mistake.

I did reasonably well through most of the course, managing to get Mistress close enough to the flags that She was supposed to grab as we went by. But at one point, I was reined to a halt and given a signal to back up. In the process, I also got a signal to turn. That's a tricky maneuver that bio-horses don't usually have to worry about, but here I was faced with it.

I turned as I was instructed - or rather, as I thought I had been instructed. But almost immediately, I was halted again and reined forward. One more signal to stop, back up and turn again led to a quick halt and a rein forward. Mistress tried a third time and again, I could not seem to do the right thing.

By this moment, I was unhappy. Unhappy that I was not getting the job done and unhappy that the clock was running (like that was my worry or something). In short order, frustration began to mount and I started to get angry with myself.

That's never a good thing, anger. It makes you do irrational things, and irrational things are even easier to do when you are blindfolded. Your brain starts to make up all sorts of stories about how much of a fool you look and how many are watching. Coupled with a desire to do well, you can find yourself in a vicious cycle until something gives.

In this case, something gave rather spectacularly. When I got yet another rein signal to move forward, I moved ahead about three steps and straight into a hay bale. That sent me ass over tea kettle into the dirt.

And that did it. One wall coming up, and I hit it hard. I said something that I won't repeat here - goodbye head space - and threw a handful of dirt at the ground. Mistress called out to the ring steward that we were done and would not complete the course. That stung more than the fall because I wanted to finish this cursed course and show it that it could not defeat me. I wanted everyone to know that I would get the job done no matter how many bruises it cost me. Mistress unhitched me from the cart and sent me to the pony pen where my anger was readily apparent to the rest of the ponies waiting their turn. Another bad move on my part.

Firefox came over to me and told me how brave I had been to go first and that even though I didn't finish the course, I had dome very well. All I could do was remind her that I had failed to finish. When it was clear to her that the message wasn't getting through, Firefox grabbed my bridle and said, "Hey! I'm trying to make you feel better!"

One case of perspective coming up. I stopped dead in my tracks and thanked her. Then she gave me a hug.

Still, I felt I had disappointed Mistress and that stung enough to bring tears. I stepped into the pony trailer where I could be alone for a few minutes and let them flow. It proved good therapy, and once finished, I looked out through the slats in the trailer to see Stormy starting into the course with Mistress at the reins. He seemed to have some trouble at some of the same points I did, but he finished the course in one piece. I came out of the trailer to see him, but he had already headed to the house for some reason.

I found him in our room. As it turned out, he had also hit his own personal wall. We talked about it and spent some time going over what had happened with each of us. When Mistress joined us, we had some private time together to talk about what had happened to each of us. It was one of those deeply private moments, and I won't go into any detail, but one thing I did carry away from it was that I had not disappointed Mistress at all. She knew me a little better than I knew myself on this score. When She saw how upset I was, She elected to stop even though She knew I would have gone further. But She also realized that if I had had any further trouble - almost a certainty given my level of frustration - things would have been much worse. I had to agree. She was right. It was better to take it on the chin and stop with dignity intact than to break down completely.

I got an honorable mention for the blindfold cart challenge even though I didn't finish the course. That was a surprise to me, and helped put me back on track. After all, there was still more to go. The weekend was nearing its close, and it had been very intense. Stormy and I both had issues to deal with, and with the help of our Mistress, we came through it.

And though it may embarrass him, you should know that Stormy took the Champion ribbon in the blindfold cart challenge.

The evening event was Freestyle Dressage. In this event, ponies and handlers put on dressage presentations that they had rehearsed. Mistress created another tandem dressage routine for Stormy and I again using Her crop signals instead of reins or verbal commands. Others put on their own presentations and there was some serious creativity at work here. In the end, Mistress took home the Third Place ribbon for Her work with us. Not at all bad for a first time out!

There were two final events that made the weekend complete for me. Neither of them was a competition. One was a collaring, the other a wedding.

A collaring is a ceremony in which a Dominant takes ownership of a submissive. In the pony world, it might better be called a bridling. I had mine at the 2008 Winter Flea (that story is told in an earlier entry on this blog). But this would be special to three people - Mistress, me, and Stormy.

Stormy was originally owned and trained by E.R. of the Equus Eroticus Ranch. When she and her husband Paul Reed moved to Texas, it became difficult for Stormy to get the time to go visit for training and such. They had made a wonderful video on human pony training (which is still available, by the way), but visits became very rare, and Ms. R began to transition out of the scene. Stormy met Mistress at camp Crucible and at just about the time that his interest in pony play was reaching a crossroads. The chemistry between them was good, though, and he asked Her if She would mind taking up his training. Mistress agreed, and arrangements were made with Ms. R. There were attempts to get a long-term lease from the EE Ranch, but the proprietors were unable to make it to Camp in the years that followed. So it seemed a great idea to get it done at CTK. After all, the EE Ranch wasn't all that far away.

So it was that Paul Reed arrived with the lease in hand. Stormy would belong to Aphrodite's Meadow Stable on a 99-year lease for the price of one American dollar. The deal done, Mistress presented Stormy with his stable collar - the exact same colors as mine - and placed it on him. That made Stormy an official pony of Aphrodite's Meadow. It also made him my stable mate in earnest. It was one of the most moving moments of my year.

The wedding joined Foxy Davis and Sherifox in a midnight ceremony. Although it was cold outside, everybody basked in the warmth of the glow between the two of them. The vows were down to Earth and so sincere. Everyone who attended joined in congratulating the newlyweds and celebrating the special moment.

The week had been long and the games well played, but as with all of these events, it had to come to a close soon enough. Mistress, Stormy and I were taken to the airport on Monday morning for our flight back. I was happy to know that I could get a seat on the flight that the two of them were scheduled to take. Originally, I had to fly out on a different plane and sit in Minneapolis (I think) for five hours. Not a happy thought for me, so it was worth the additional $50 to get on the plane headed for Atlanta instead. We made it that far as a threesome before Stormy had to switch for a plane to Hartford. Mistress and I continued on to Boston, and the trip finally came to an end.

It was good to be home. I had played hard, hit some walls, and learned a lot about myself as a pony. I learned a lot about my abilities and limitations. Now I have some limits to stretch.

No doubt Mistress will help all She can.