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.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 3
What was it I said at the close of the last post? I promised not to make you wait as long for this next installment as I did the last time?
Wow. Am I in for it. There are reasons for the long delay - believe me, but I won't go into them right now. But if I don't smarten up, Clover will report me to Mistress for breaking that promise. I can't imagine what the result of that could be.
The Jamboree got underway in earnest on Thursday evening. Or at least, it was supposed to. Mistress, Stormy and I had arrived late in the day on Wednesday and spent a couple of days helping out around the place. There wasn't a whole lot to do because people had already been very busy getting ready for the event and most of the work was done. That left the three of us with time to work on our dressage system and get some idea of how things were going to work. We had been given the honor of performing in the opening ceremony on Thursday night, so we wanted things to go well indeed.
Mistress selected some suitable music and arranged a dressage choreography that had Stormy and I working in tandem. It was great fun putting it together and would be very impressive when performed.
Everyone gathered for the opening ceremony in the waning hours of Thursday. Mistress had sequestered Stormy and I in the barn. We were resplendent in out nice clean tack with the flags of the United States and the State of Texas secured to our backs. I had the US flag and Stormy carried the flag of Texas. Both flags were very big and impressive, and they flew behind us as we moved about. Mind you, they didn't fly like that because we were running about. They flew like that because it was very windy. It was also cloudy and damned cold!
I had thought of Texas as a southern state and convinced myself that southern states never got cold. I was in for an awakening and it started that night. Temperatures were in the low 60s. I know that shouldn't be cold to a New Englander like me, but when you are shirtless and wearing saddle leather in a high wind, it bores down to the bone eventually. I recall one Texan, looking at me as I shivered, and saying, "I thought you northerners were used to temperatures like this!" I replied by telling him that northerners like me know to go inside or put on warmer clothes when it gets cold. That's how we manage!
But for the moment, Stormy and I were in the barn awaiting the signal to come rushing out with our flags and wow the crowd. We endured the wind and the dust it blew into our eyes and mouths (we had bits in place, after all) as we looked for the signal.
But the signal did not come. I don't know how long we were there, but the guest of honor was not able to make it to the ranch that night after all, so the opening ceremony was postponed until the following morning.
Not a problem. Just get this flag down out of my harness, take the bit out of my mouth and tell me I have been a good boy.
My first ribbon came later that evening after the talent show. Mistress and I decided to reprise my dance number from Camp, and although the space was a whole lot smaller than the basketball court, I managed to pull it off. It's amazing how it took no less energy to do it, though. This performance earned me a ribbon for tack and appointments.
Are you reading this, Buck?
Once the show was over and all the ribbons passed out, Stormy and I decided to go inside and curl up under a blanket - my first slice of heaven that weekend.
That was a good thing because the remainder of the weekend would be no holds barred, all out competition that would go pretty much non-stop from mid-morning until sundown and beyond. Rather than pick and choose events and run the risk of looking a tad elitist, Mistress, Stormy and I decided to have at it and toss our hats in for every event we could. That's not an easy thing to do when you're my age, but why not see how far I could go?
I would find out, too.
The opening ceremony took place at the start of events on Friday morning. We did our dressage number to The Yellow Rose of Texas, which proved a crowd pleaser. After a few speeches and the introduction of the guest of honor for the weekend, the games got underway.
I have to say I surprised myself. The roster of stallions competing this weekend was impressive as was the list of fillies. Everyone was out to have a good time more than anything else, but ponies do like to shine and they love to please their trainers and owners. Mistress has one golden rule when competing. It doesn't matter one whit to Her if we win or lose a competition, but She does expect an all-out effort. Not finishing first is no disgrace if the game has been well played.
So it was with a desire to play well that I stood at the starting line in the Gauntlet. This was a race against the clock - as most events were. I had to pull Mistress in a cart along a very twisty course. Along the way, She had to complete a number of tasks. First was putting a lance through a ring, the next was opening and closing gates while I waited, third was directing me through a slolem of hay bales, fourth was bandaging my leg, fifth was taking an egg on a spoon and driving the cart without dropping it, and the final task was to put me in the horse trailer.
Now I was going to find out if all of that time in the gym had been worth it. We were given the signal to go and Mistress reined me into action. To say that we played hard might be an understatement. I held back when told to, and galloped at full tilt the rest of the time. No eggs gor dropped and no hay bales were struck (as far as I know). When the time came for me to be put in the horse trailer, though, my long reins got fouled up around Mistress' leg and I went head over backside onto the floor of the trailer. That event - the first of them all - left me with a bleeding mouth from my bit and a skinned knee from the fall.
Yeehaa! Let the games begin!
A little patch-up work and a new pair of tights later, I was ready to go again. By that time, one other pony had taken a spill and joined me in the infirmary. Clearly, the stallions in this bunch meant business!
My efforts and bruises were worth it, though. I took Reserve Champion in the Gauntlet, surprising the daylights out of me. The Champion of the event was a pony named Clover whom nobody was going to catch. He beat my time by a full 20 seconds.
The Stallion Power Challenge was the next event for me. In this, ponies had to drag a large timber for a specified distance and then sprint to the finish line. Like the Gauntlet, it was a race against the clock. Being as fearless as Mistress desires, I stepped up to the starting line and took the harness. I was happy with my performance and took fourth place, which wasn't bad in a large field.
Other competitions included Hunter Jumper - both beginner and advanced, Dressage - beginner and advanced in both formal and freestyle events, Conformation, and the blindfolded cart challenge. The only event we didn't take part in was the Fox Hunt. I don't recall exactly why, but events conspired to keep that one off the schedule for me.
Hunter Jumper was a jump course. If you have never seen one of those, or if you have seen them in an equestrian event, bear in mind that the course looks very different from the stands than it does on the ground. For all of me, it was a field of sticks that I had to navigate around and it made no sense. Some kind soul had gone to the trouble of painting lines ont he ground that we could follow. Then they allowed us to walk the course a couple of times just to get it clear. Finally, they gave us the option of trotting or cantering the course with the only stipulation that we could not change gait in mid-course. Further, if we chose to canter, we had to get our leads correct.
Well, correct lead has never been a problem for me when cantering, so I decided to go for it. I went through the beginner's course on the correct lead all the way through.
It would have helped if I had not missed the very first jump. Remember those lines they took all that trouble to paint?
Oh, the ignominy of it all.
Embarrassment out of the way, we moved on. Conformation is an event that has to do with how well ponies get along in a group. We were let into the ring and given commands by the ring steward. We would be judged on how well we obeyed the commands and the rules of etiquette in the ring. Yours truly missed one command - or rather, I missed one detail of that command. It was a detail that I would not have understood, so it makes no difference. And, of course, I know what it means now, so I'll never get it wrong again. I remember not hearing the command to stop at the end, but I didn't feel badly about that because Clover didn't hear it either. Both of us continued to canter around, almost dropping from exhaustion until someone stopped us and told us the event was over.
I took fifth place on that one. Ugh.
Dressage...now that was a different story. And I'll tell that one in the next installment along with the story of how I hit the wall.
Yes, it happens on occasion.
Wow. Am I in for it. There are reasons for the long delay - believe me, but I won't go into them right now. But if I don't smarten up, Clover will report me to Mistress for breaking that promise. I can't imagine what the result of that could be.
The Jamboree got underway in earnest on Thursday evening. Or at least, it was supposed to. Mistress, Stormy and I had arrived late in the day on Wednesday and spent a couple of days helping out around the place. There wasn't a whole lot to do because people had already been very busy getting ready for the event and most of the work was done. That left the three of us with time to work on our dressage system and get some idea of how things were going to work. We had been given the honor of performing in the opening ceremony on Thursday night, so we wanted things to go well indeed.
Mistress selected some suitable music and arranged a dressage choreography that had Stormy and I working in tandem. It was great fun putting it together and would be very impressive when performed.
Everyone gathered for the opening ceremony in the waning hours of Thursday. Mistress had sequestered Stormy and I in the barn. We were resplendent in out nice clean tack with the flags of the United States and the State of Texas secured to our backs. I had the US flag and Stormy carried the flag of Texas. Both flags were very big and impressive, and they flew behind us as we moved about. Mind you, they didn't fly like that because we were running about. They flew like that because it was very windy. It was also cloudy and damned cold!
I had thought of Texas as a southern state and convinced myself that southern states never got cold. I was in for an awakening and it started that night. Temperatures were in the low 60s. I know that shouldn't be cold to a New Englander like me, but when you are shirtless and wearing saddle leather in a high wind, it bores down to the bone eventually. I recall one Texan, looking at me as I shivered, and saying, "I thought you northerners were used to temperatures like this!" I replied by telling him that northerners like me know to go inside or put on warmer clothes when it gets cold. That's how we manage!
But for the moment, Stormy and I were in the barn awaiting the signal to come rushing out with our flags and wow the crowd. We endured the wind and the dust it blew into our eyes and mouths (we had bits in place, after all) as we looked for the signal.
But the signal did not come. I don't know how long we were there, but the guest of honor was not able to make it to the ranch that night after all, so the opening ceremony was postponed until the following morning.
Not a problem. Just get this flag down out of my harness, take the bit out of my mouth and tell me I have been a good boy.
My first ribbon came later that evening after the talent show. Mistress and I decided to reprise my dance number from Camp, and although the space was a whole lot smaller than the basketball court, I managed to pull it off. It's amazing how it took no less energy to do it, though. This performance earned me a ribbon for tack and appointments.
Are you reading this, Buck?
Once the show was over and all the ribbons passed out, Stormy and I decided to go inside and curl up under a blanket - my first slice of heaven that weekend.
That was a good thing because the remainder of the weekend would be no holds barred, all out competition that would go pretty much non-stop from mid-morning until sundown and beyond. Rather than pick and choose events and run the risk of looking a tad elitist, Mistress, Stormy and I decided to have at it and toss our hats in for every event we could. That's not an easy thing to do when you're my age, but why not see how far I could go?
I would find out, too.
The opening ceremony took place at the start of events on Friday morning. We did our dressage number to The Yellow Rose of Texas, which proved a crowd pleaser. After a few speeches and the introduction of the guest of honor for the weekend, the games got underway.
I have to say I surprised myself. The roster of stallions competing this weekend was impressive as was the list of fillies. Everyone was out to have a good time more than anything else, but ponies do like to shine and they love to please their trainers and owners. Mistress has one golden rule when competing. It doesn't matter one whit to Her if we win or lose a competition, but She does expect an all-out effort. Not finishing first is no disgrace if the game has been well played.
So it was with a desire to play well that I stood at the starting line in the Gauntlet. This was a race against the clock - as most events were. I had to pull Mistress in a cart along a very twisty course. Along the way, She had to complete a number of tasks. First was putting a lance through a ring, the next was opening and closing gates while I waited, third was directing me through a slolem of hay bales, fourth was bandaging my leg, fifth was taking an egg on a spoon and driving the cart without dropping it, and the final task was to put me in the horse trailer.
Now I was going to find out if all of that time in the gym had been worth it. We were given the signal to go and Mistress reined me into action. To say that we played hard might be an understatement. I held back when told to, and galloped at full tilt the rest of the time. No eggs gor dropped and no hay bales were struck (as far as I know). When the time came for me to be put in the horse trailer, though, my long reins got fouled up around Mistress' leg and I went head over backside onto the floor of the trailer. That event - the first of them all - left me with a bleeding mouth from my bit and a skinned knee from the fall.
Yeehaa! Let the games begin!
A little patch-up work and a new pair of tights later, I was ready to go again. By that time, one other pony had taken a spill and joined me in the infirmary. Clearly, the stallions in this bunch meant business!
My efforts and bruises were worth it, though. I took Reserve Champion in the Gauntlet, surprising the daylights out of me. The Champion of the event was a pony named Clover whom nobody was going to catch. He beat my time by a full 20 seconds.
The Stallion Power Challenge was the next event for me. In this, ponies had to drag a large timber for a specified distance and then sprint to the finish line. Like the Gauntlet, it was a race against the clock. Being as fearless as Mistress desires, I stepped up to the starting line and took the harness. I was happy with my performance and took fourth place, which wasn't bad in a large field.
Other competitions included Hunter Jumper - both beginner and advanced, Dressage - beginner and advanced in both formal and freestyle events, Conformation, and the blindfolded cart challenge. The only event we didn't take part in was the Fox Hunt. I don't recall exactly why, but events conspired to keep that one off the schedule for me.
Hunter Jumper was a jump course. If you have never seen one of those, or if you have seen them in an equestrian event, bear in mind that the course looks very different from the stands than it does on the ground. For all of me, it was a field of sticks that I had to navigate around and it made no sense. Some kind soul had gone to the trouble of painting lines ont he ground that we could follow. Then they allowed us to walk the course a couple of times just to get it clear. Finally, they gave us the option of trotting or cantering the course with the only stipulation that we could not change gait in mid-course. Further, if we chose to canter, we had to get our leads correct.
Well, correct lead has never been a problem for me when cantering, so I decided to go for it. I went through the beginner's course on the correct lead all the way through.
It would have helped if I had not missed the very first jump. Remember those lines they took all that trouble to paint?
Oh, the ignominy of it all.
Embarrassment out of the way, we moved on. Conformation is an event that has to do with how well ponies get along in a group. We were let into the ring and given commands by the ring steward. We would be judged on how well we obeyed the commands and the rules of etiquette in the ring. Yours truly missed one command - or rather, I missed one detail of that command. It was a detail that I would not have understood, so it makes no difference. And, of course, I know what it means now, so I'll never get it wrong again. I remember not hearing the command to stop at the end, but I didn't feel badly about that because Clover didn't hear it either. Both of us continued to canter around, almost dropping from exhaustion until someone stopped us and told us the event was over.
I took fifth place on that one. Ugh.
Dressage...now that was a different story. And I'll tell that one in the next installment along with the story of how I hit the wall.
Yes, it happens on occasion.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 2
Tuesday dawned very early for Mistress and I. After the nerve-wracking events of the night before, we had gotten very little sleep. Still we were both wide awake and ready to head out for Austin. We had two planes to catch and no doubt a lot of acreage to walk in the process, but the first challenge was getting from the house to the train station about a mile away. They don't allow overnight parking there, and R doesn't drive. That meant walking with a lot of luggage. Somewhere in the mists of time, some genius added wheels to suitcases and now that seems to be the standard. I am grateful for that.
November is typically cold in New England, and although it was a little nippy out, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was dark, of course, being only about five in the morning. The first train for Logan airport left the station in Malden at 5:15 a.m. and we intended to be on it. Life can throw miracles at you just as easily as it can obstructions, and I had to recognize such an event when I made it through the turnstiles at the train station without anything catastrophic happening. After all, I hadn't had any coffee yet and the walls were looking a little shaky to me at just that moment. But the card swiped through the little slot and I passed through that revolving mechanism that I so often see as a castration machine. I have never been able to just run at those things for fear of what would result if it didn't move properly.
But move it did, and we soon took up seats on the train. It seemed forever before the doors closed and we pulled out of the station, but finally, we were officially launched. We arrived at Logan not long after and proceeded to check in.
I've said it before and I'll repeat it here. Ponies and their trainers do not travel light. Beyond clothing and toiletries (all properly stashed in their little bottles and plastic bags - oh how I hate those rules), there are grooming supplies, reins, extra bits, signs for the stalls, double-ended snap hooks and, yes, the twitch. None of that stuff would make it in if we tried to carry it on, so it all had to go into the checked bags. There was a time not long ago when that wouldn't have been a problem, but these days, airlines are charging nothing short of your eternal soul if you want to check a second bag or if the bag you have is over the weight limit. In this case, nothing could weigh more than 50 pounds.
Mistress is a very fashionable dresser at events, and she was carrying all of that extra pony stuff in her suitcase, so she ended up going over the limit by 10 pounds. We didn't know how much my case weighed, but when we were told she would have to pay an extra $80 for that ten pounds, I began to sweat. I mean, ouch! But as it turned out, my case was well under the limit. By that time, Mistress' suitcase was long gone, so there was nothing we could do about it other than make a mental note to change things around for the trip back. Not that we were scheduled to travel on the same flights or anything, but it would all end up in the same place.
Once inside the secure zone, we had a chance to grab some coffee and a bite to eat. This is where I always fail to learn life's lessons. If you're traveling through airports and are anything like me at all, you keep telling yourself that you can get something to eat once you are through security. No matter how many times you do this, you never seem to recall just how horrid an airport food court can be. Somehow, your inner optimist - the one you keep saying you are going to strangle one day - tells you over and over that this airport can't possibly be as bad as the last one you were in. Every time you listen to that guy. And every time, you come the raw prawn.
Mistress needs to eat before she can put coffee into her stomach. I can put most anything into mine without trouble. So we sat across from the Dunkin Donuts eating out breakfast. I don't remember what she got, but I clearly remember eating my crunchy egg sandwich on a croissant. Someone should tell these people that croissant are not supposed to be crunchy. And yes, they should be flaky, but not in such a manner that the flakes end up all over you.
Ohh well, that was breakfast in Boston. I'll spare you the gory details of lunch in Atlanta. We tried. Really we did. But airport food is...well, I'm surprised Rod Serling never made a Twighligh Zone episode about it.
Wow. I'm glad I didn't think of that during the trip. The last episode of Twilight Zone that I saw was the one starring William Shatner as the airplane passenger who kept seeing a gorilla on the wing.
In fact, both flights were uneventful. We found out seats (Mistress got the window) and settled in on both flights. They were tastefully boring and I spent most of my time either reading the in-flight magazine, staring out the window - as is my wont on plane flights - or eating the pony treats that airline feed passengers these days. Remember when you used to get an actual meal if your flight went over a standard mealtime? Those days passed a long time ago and I can't help wondering what a five hour flight across the country would be like today. In any case, I should remind myself that if airport food is nasty, the food they cooked on the flight itself was equally bad. So I guess I didn't miss anything.
We landed in Austin pretty much on time. Stormy would not come in until the next day, so Mistress and I gathered up our luggage and went outside to await our ride. We were to be picked up by Miss Indigo, but there was a small confusion on our arrival time. Miss Indigo arrived ahead of schedule and when we weren't there, went out to do some errands. A call from Mistress on her cell phone, and Indigo headed back to the airport. Shortly thereafter, we were in the car and headed out to the suburbs.
I'm a homebody. I don't have to go very far away before I start missing my cat and feeling somewhat out of place. That is particularly true when I visit places far away from home. My parents moved eight states away a few years ago, and when I visit them I step into a completely different climate and culture. I can never seem to get used to the sight of palm trees, and although I do like warmer temperatures they are weird in November.
Texas was something else entirely. I always knew it was big, but I had no idea. They were just coming out of a long drought at the time, and although things were reported to be on the rebound, the landscape was pretty brown and featureless. The highway went on for mile after mile without a lot to look at. I found out later on that the state has a small number of high population centers like Dallas, Austin, and Fort Worth and a whole lot of empty space between them. Texans think nothing of traveling five hours to attend a meeting or other function and then traveling five hours to get home. It's just the way it is in such a large state. Not a good place for someone with ADD.
Still, Miss Indigo has a talent for conversation that kept the atmosphere in the car fun and entertaining. Before long, we arrived at her utterly spotless home. She apologized for the mess. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out what she was talking about. Mistress and I found our rooms and put our luggage away for the day. We would spend the night here and then go to the CTK Ranch the next day.
I no sooner got my suitcase stowed when I began to realize how tired I was. Mistress and Miss Indigo were planning to do some shopping before Mistress fell on her nose for a while, so it seemed like a good time for this pony to hit the hay. I was out like a light in no time and slept for quite a while. At one point, I remember feeling someone putting a blanket over my feet. Somehow, it ended up covering my whole body before I woke up.
Later that evening, Miss Indigo took Mistress and I out for dinner at a local Tex-Mex restaurant. I guess there's something about Texas in that they take their Tex-Mex very seriously. This place was fantastic and unlike any I had ever been to before. We were well-stuffed by the time the meal was finished and still had plenty of food to take home with us.
A stop at the local video rental store, and we headed home again. We picked up two DVDs to watch that evening; Disney's Enchanted and Hellboy II.
That about caught both ends of the spectrum. We watched both movies, had a bit of nosh and then headed to bed.
I don't remember what hour we awoke the next morning, but we showered, had breakfast and hung out for a while. Soon we would head over to join up with some friends, pick Stormy up at the airport and then get some lunch before heading out to the Ranch.
Lots of restaurants refer to the food they serve as Texas barbecue, but I'm here to tell you that it isn't Texas barbecue unless you are in Texas. I have had barbecue plenty of times in my life and this tasted very similar. The differences were the side dishes and the atmosphere. Again, it's a different culture altogether and taken in context, it was a real treat that I hope to relish again some day. This place was a favorite of our hosts and was well chosen.
Once sated, we split up into two vehicles and headed over to the CTK Ranch. We took the scenic route through Austin proper and took the time to get a gook look at the nation's largest capital dome. Everything is bigger in Texas.
Once out of the city, we were on our way to CTK and a weekend of fun, competition and new friendships. More on that in the next installment.
I promise I won't make you wait as long for that as you did for this.
November is typically cold in New England, and although it was a little nippy out, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was dark, of course, being only about five in the morning. The first train for Logan airport left the station in Malden at 5:15 a.m. and we intended to be on it. Life can throw miracles at you just as easily as it can obstructions, and I had to recognize such an event when I made it through the turnstiles at the train station without anything catastrophic happening. After all, I hadn't had any coffee yet and the walls were looking a little shaky to me at just that moment. But the card swiped through the little slot and I passed through that revolving mechanism that I so often see as a castration machine. I have never been able to just run at those things for fear of what would result if it didn't move properly.
But move it did, and we soon took up seats on the train. It seemed forever before the doors closed and we pulled out of the station, but finally, we were officially launched. We arrived at Logan not long after and proceeded to check in.
I've said it before and I'll repeat it here. Ponies and their trainers do not travel light. Beyond clothing and toiletries (all properly stashed in their little bottles and plastic bags - oh how I hate those rules), there are grooming supplies, reins, extra bits, signs for the stalls, double-ended snap hooks and, yes, the twitch. None of that stuff would make it in if we tried to carry it on, so it all had to go into the checked bags. There was a time not long ago when that wouldn't have been a problem, but these days, airlines are charging nothing short of your eternal soul if you want to check a second bag or if the bag you have is over the weight limit. In this case, nothing could weigh more than 50 pounds.
Mistress is a very fashionable dresser at events, and she was carrying all of that extra pony stuff in her suitcase, so she ended up going over the limit by 10 pounds. We didn't know how much my case weighed, but when we were told she would have to pay an extra $80 for that ten pounds, I began to sweat. I mean, ouch! But as it turned out, my case was well under the limit. By that time, Mistress' suitcase was long gone, so there was nothing we could do about it other than make a mental note to change things around for the trip back. Not that we were scheduled to travel on the same flights or anything, but it would all end up in the same place.
Once inside the secure zone, we had a chance to grab some coffee and a bite to eat. This is where I always fail to learn life's lessons. If you're traveling through airports and are anything like me at all, you keep telling yourself that you can get something to eat once you are through security. No matter how many times you do this, you never seem to recall just how horrid an airport food court can be. Somehow, your inner optimist - the one you keep saying you are going to strangle one day - tells you over and over that this airport can't possibly be as bad as the last one you were in. Every time you listen to that guy. And every time, you come the raw prawn.
Mistress needs to eat before she can put coffee into her stomach. I can put most anything into mine without trouble. So we sat across from the Dunkin Donuts eating out breakfast. I don't remember what she got, but I clearly remember eating my crunchy egg sandwich on a croissant. Someone should tell these people that croissant are not supposed to be crunchy. And yes, they should be flaky, but not in such a manner that the flakes end up all over you.
Ohh well, that was breakfast in Boston. I'll spare you the gory details of lunch in Atlanta. We tried. Really we did. But airport food is...well, I'm surprised Rod Serling never made a Twighligh Zone episode about it.
Wow. I'm glad I didn't think of that during the trip. The last episode of Twilight Zone that I saw was the one starring William Shatner as the airplane passenger who kept seeing a gorilla on the wing.
In fact, both flights were uneventful. We found out seats (Mistress got the window) and settled in on both flights. They were tastefully boring and I spent most of my time either reading the in-flight magazine, staring out the window - as is my wont on plane flights - or eating the pony treats that airline feed passengers these days. Remember when you used to get an actual meal if your flight went over a standard mealtime? Those days passed a long time ago and I can't help wondering what a five hour flight across the country would be like today. In any case, I should remind myself that if airport food is nasty, the food they cooked on the flight itself was equally bad. So I guess I didn't miss anything.
We landed in Austin pretty much on time. Stormy would not come in until the next day, so Mistress and I gathered up our luggage and went outside to await our ride. We were to be picked up by Miss Indigo, but there was a small confusion on our arrival time. Miss Indigo arrived ahead of schedule and when we weren't there, went out to do some errands. A call from Mistress on her cell phone, and Indigo headed back to the airport. Shortly thereafter, we were in the car and headed out to the suburbs.
I'm a homebody. I don't have to go very far away before I start missing my cat and feeling somewhat out of place. That is particularly true when I visit places far away from home. My parents moved eight states away a few years ago, and when I visit them I step into a completely different climate and culture. I can never seem to get used to the sight of palm trees, and although I do like warmer temperatures they are weird in November.
Texas was something else entirely. I always knew it was big, but I had no idea. They were just coming out of a long drought at the time, and although things were reported to be on the rebound, the landscape was pretty brown and featureless. The highway went on for mile after mile without a lot to look at. I found out later on that the state has a small number of high population centers like Dallas, Austin, and Fort Worth and a whole lot of empty space between them. Texans think nothing of traveling five hours to attend a meeting or other function and then traveling five hours to get home. It's just the way it is in such a large state. Not a good place for someone with ADD.
Still, Miss Indigo has a talent for conversation that kept the atmosphere in the car fun and entertaining. Before long, we arrived at her utterly spotless home. She apologized for the mess. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out what she was talking about. Mistress and I found our rooms and put our luggage away for the day. We would spend the night here and then go to the CTK Ranch the next day.
I no sooner got my suitcase stowed when I began to realize how tired I was. Mistress and Miss Indigo were planning to do some shopping before Mistress fell on her nose for a while, so it seemed like a good time for this pony to hit the hay. I was out like a light in no time and slept for quite a while. At one point, I remember feeling someone putting a blanket over my feet. Somehow, it ended up covering my whole body before I woke up.
Later that evening, Miss Indigo took Mistress and I out for dinner at a local Tex-Mex restaurant. I guess there's something about Texas in that they take their Tex-Mex very seriously. This place was fantastic and unlike any I had ever been to before. We were well-stuffed by the time the meal was finished and still had plenty of food to take home with us.
A stop at the local video rental store, and we headed home again. We picked up two DVDs to watch that evening; Disney's Enchanted and Hellboy II.
That about caught both ends of the spectrum. We watched both movies, had a bit of nosh and then headed to bed.
I don't remember what hour we awoke the next morning, but we showered, had breakfast and hung out for a while. Soon we would head over to join up with some friends, pick Stormy up at the airport and then get some lunch before heading out to the Ranch.
Lots of restaurants refer to the food they serve as Texas barbecue, but I'm here to tell you that it isn't Texas barbecue unless you are in Texas. I have had barbecue plenty of times in my life and this tasted very similar. The differences were the side dishes and the atmosphere. Again, it's a different culture altogether and taken in context, it was a real treat that I hope to relish again some day. This place was a favorite of our hosts and was well chosen.
Once sated, we split up into two vehicles and headed over to the CTK Ranch. We took the scenic route through Austin proper and took the time to get a gook look at the nation's largest capital dome. Everything is bigger in Texas.
Once out of the city, we were on our way to CTK and a weekend of fun, competition and new friendships. More on that in the next installment.
I promise I won't make you wait as long for that as you did for this.
Friday, January 9, 2009
My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 1
When Mistress says that this herd travels, she isn't kidding. It isn't necessary to travel long distances to play pony, but it certainly can be a lot of fun.
And a challenge at odd moments.
So it was with a great sense of adventure that the Proprietor and ponies of Aphrodite's Meadow traveled to the CTK Ranch just outside of Austin, TX for a weekend of games, competition and general nuzzling. Mistress, Stormy and I had been talking about doing this all year. We had all purchased our plane tickets in the late spring just after Camp and had spent some time figuring out those logistics. It's not easy traveling together when you make your reservations separately, but through the miracle of modern chutzpah, we managed it pretty well. Sort of.
Itinerary change, anyone?
Stormy and I chose not to trust the airlines with our tack. We both have heard horror stories about people checking their tack at the counter, never to see it again. We both have some serious investment in time, emotion, thought and money in the tack that we wear and it's too meaningful to lose. So we shipped our tack to the ranch about a week ahead of the event. Besides, a tack bag would have constituted a second bag and airlines are charging nothing short of your first born child for extra bags these days. Shipping wasn't cheap - about the same as checking a second bag - but at least we knew things would make it to their destination.
Stormy was traveling out of Hartford while Mistress and I departed from Boston. In addition, Stormy had to head out a day later than us because of a work commitment. It's not easy being self-employed, especially in a down economy. So opportunities have to be grabbed when they present themselves. I arrived at Mistress' house the day before we were to fly out, parking my car in front of her house in mid-afternoon.
Now if you've been following my story, you know my back tends to cause me pain now and then. It's down to an annoying background issue from the flaming, summer-ruining tribulation that it was, so it was odd to me that it should hurt more than usual that afternoon. And on the wrong side. I figured that the ride in the car had bothered me a little and brushed the pain off, thinking it would go away once I had a chance to walk around and stretch.
I thought wrong.
Now look. I was taking a week's vacation, traveling to Texas to play pony, and I'd been looking forward to this for months. Quality time with Mistress and Stormy is precious to me and nothing - repeat nothing - was going to ruin it. Period. I hit the denial button as hard as I could and forged ahead, giving Mistress a hug and jumping into her van to go shopping with her for some last-minute items.
Trouble is, my denial gear wasn't working very well. I knew there was conversation in the van as we traveled around and did errands, but my half of it consisted almost entirely of monosyllabic grunts acknowledging that someone was talking and little else. I just couldn't get my mind off the pain in my back and the anxiety it was causing. I don't do canceled plans or ruined vacations with any sort of grace, and I had no intention of changing my plans. Attempts to compensate by sitting or standing differently failed and Mistress was starting to notice. She already knew about the pain, but its extent was something I had tried to cover up.
By the time we got home from shopping, the pain had subsided a little and I thought it was over. Mistress' partner R had made her way home and the three of us decided to go out for dinner. We went to an Irish pub in my car and had no sooner arrived and been seated when someone hit me in the back with a mace. Or at least, that's how it felt. We ordered, talked a bit and then I went silent again. This time, I couldn't hide anything. The white knuckles gave it away. That and my inability to sit still. Just as our food arrived, I had to confess that my appetite had vaporized. We got up from the table and asked the waitress to box up our meals. Mistress retrieved my car and drove me to the closest emergency room while R walked home with the food. Luckily, things were all close at hand.
By this time, I knew what was going on. When asked what I suspected by the triage nurse, I told her it was a kidney stone. This would be the second one of these buggers I had dealt with in eight years, which doesn't make me a prolific stone mason, but what timing! The triage nurse took the information and told me to have a seat in the waiting room. I chose a spot in a corner behind a screen that was reasonably private and Mistress and I sat.
And sat, and sat, and sat.
After thirty minutes, the pain in my back suddenly vanished. I mean, it went away completely and something left me with the ontological certitude that it wasn't going to come back. At about the same time, I realized that I had to pee like the race horse that I try to be. Knowing that hospital emergency departments only tend to ask for a urine sample right after you have relieved yourself, I walked over to the triage desk and requested a specimen cup, "Just in case." I went to the bathroom and, while doing what I was in there to do, I had the unbelievable good fortune to pass the stone while aiming for the cup. Proud as a peacock - not to mention relieved as hell - I emerged from the bathroom crowing and waving the specimen cup around for all to see. I had accomplished something!
And still we sat. Two more hours crept by while I continued to marvel at my sample with it's tiny little boulder knocking around like so much gravel in a little stream. The population of the entire waiting room had turned over twice, but still my name had not been called. Mistress was annoyed and suggested that I go and ask what was going on. I work in health care and know about long waits in emergency departments, so I was inclined to wait just a bit longer. Besides, I hate confrontation. I would probably still be sitting there today, but Mistress decided that enough was enough. She walked into the registration office to ask what was going on. I could see her standing there, back to me, no doubt asking very pointed questions of the staff that seemed to be getting just a little agitated.
A few moments later, a nurse came out and called my name. It seems that triage at this ED is a two-stage process and triage nurse number one had not handed me off to triage nurse number two. As a result, my information was not in the computer and nobody knew I was there.
Nice.
I went in to speak to triage nurse number two, giving her all of my information and hugging my specimen close to me. I had gotten somewhat attached to it and didn't really want to let it go. In the end, though, I had to turn it over, and it disappeared. I was ushered into a treatment room and awaited the physician.
The doctor was an affable, friendly man who also suffered from kidney stones, so we hit it off quite nicely. After his consult and an analysis of the stone, he suggested a CT scan. By this point, however, it was after ten o'clock at night. Mistress and I were ravenously hungry, my pain was gone, the trip was saved, and all we wanted to do was eat and sleep. Still, I welcomed a prescription for Percocet just in case something went haywire while 30,000 feet over Virginia. I declined the CT scan - having had one in August, after all - and the two of us headed home by way of the local pharmacy.
Once home, Mistress and I had our dinner from the restaurant - which was fabulous - and spoke briefly with R. Apparently Stormy had called while we were out and R had very nonchalantly informed him that we were both at the emergency room but would probably be back before long. By that time, R had heard from Mistress that I was fine and the crisis had ebbed, so R could reassure Stormy. Still, I wish I could have listened in on that one.
Very quickly, it was bedtime. After all, Mistress and I had to get up at 4:45 the next morning for the walk to the train station complete with luggage. This was going to be very exciting.
And a challenge at odd moments.
So it was with a great sense of adventure that the Proprietor and ponies of Aphrodite's Meadow traveled to the CTK Ranch just outside of Austin, TX for a weekend of games, competition and general nuzzling. Mistress, Stormy and I had been talking about doing this all year. We had all purchased our plane tickets in the late spring just after Camp and had spent some time figuring out those logistics. It's not easy traveling together when you make your reservations separately, but through the miracle of modern chutzpah, we managed it pretty well. Sort of.
Itinerary change, anyone?
Stormy and I chose not to trust the airlines with our tack. We both have heard horror stories about people checking their tack at the counter, never to see it again. We both have some serious investment in time, emotion, thought and money in the tack that we wear and it's too meaningful to lose. So we shipped our tack to the ranch about a week ahead of the event. Besides, a tack bag would have constituted a second bag and airlines are charging nothing short of your first born child for extra bags these days. Shipping wasn't cheap - about the same as checking a second bag - but at least we knew things would make it to their destination.
Stormy was traveling out of Hartford while Mistress and I departed from Boston. In addition, Stormy had to head out a day later than us because of a work commitment. It's not easy being self-employed, especially in a down economy. So opportunities have to be grabbed when they present themselves. I arrived at Mistress' house the day before we were to fly out, parking my car in front of her house in mid-afternoon.
Now if you've been following my story, you know my back tends to cause me pain now and then. It's down to an annoying background issue from the flaming, summer-ruining tribulation that it was, so it was odd to me that it should hurt more than usual that afternoon. And on the wrong side. I figured that the ride in the car had bothered me a little and brushed the pain off, thinking it would go away once I had a chance to walk around and stretch.
I thought wrong.
Now look. I was taking a week's vacation, traveling to Texas to play pony, and I'd been looking forward to this for months. Quality time with Mistress and Stormy is precious to me and nothing - repeat nothing - was going to ruin it. Period. I hit the denial button as hard as I could and forged ahead, giving Mistress a hug and jumping into her van to go shopping with her for some last-minute items.
Trouble is, my denial gear wasn't working very well. I knew there was conversation in the van as we traveled around and did errands, but my half of it consisted almost entirely of monosyllabic grunts acknowledging that someone was talking and little else. I just couldn't get my mind off the pain in my back and the anxiety it was causing. I don't do canceled plans or ruined vacations with any sort of grace, and I had no intention of changing my plans. Attempts to compensate by sitting or standing differently failed and Mistress was starting to notice. She already knew about the pain, but its extent was something I had tried to cover up.
By the time we got home from shopping, the pain had subsided a little and I thought it was over. Mistress' partner R had made her way home and the three of us decided to go out for dinner. We went to an Irish pub in my car and had no sooner arrived and been seated when someone hit me in the back with a mace. Or at least, that's how it felt. We ordered, talked a bit and then I went silent again. This time, I couldn't hide anything. The white knuckles gave it away. That and my inability to sit still. Just as our food arrived, I had to confess that my appetite had vaporized. We got up from the table and asked the waitress to box up our meals. Mistress retrieved my car and drove me to the closest emergency room while R walked home with the food. Luckily, things were all close at hand.
By this time, I knew what was going on. When asked what I suspected by the triage nurse, I told her it was a kidney stone. This would be the second one of these buggers I had dealt with in eight years, which doesn't make me a prolific stone mason, but what timing! The triage nurse took the information and told me to have a seat in the waiting room. I chose a spot in a corner behind a screen that was reasonably private and Mistress and I sat.
And sat, and sat, and sat.
After thirty minutes, the pain in my back suddenly vanished. I mean, it went away completely and something left me with the ontological certitude that it wasn't going to come back. At about the same time, I realized that I had to pee like the race horse that I try to be. Knowing that hospital emergency departments only tend to ask for a urine sample right after you have relieved yourself, I walked over to the triage desk and requested a specimen cup, "Just in case." I went to the bathroom and, while doing what I was in there to do, I had the unbelievable good fortune to pass the stone while aiming for the cup. Proud as a peacock - not to mention relieved as hell - I emerged from the bathroom crowing and waving the specimen cup around for all to see. I had accomplished something!
And still we sat. Two more hours crept by while I continued to marvel at my sample with it's tiny little boulder knocking around like so much gravel in a little stream. The population of the entire waiting room had turned over twice, but still my name had not been called. Mistress was annoyed and suggested that I go and ask what was going on. I work in health care and know about long waits in emergency departments, so I was inclined to wait just a bit longer. Besides, I hate confrontation. I would probably still be sitting there today, but Mistress decided that enough was enough. She walked into the registration office to ask what was going on. I could see her standing there, back to me, no doubt asking very pointed questions of the staff that seemed to be getting just a little agitated.
A few moments later, a nurse came out and called my name. It seems that triage at this ED is a two-stage process and triage nurse number one had not handed me off to triage nurse number two. As a result, my information was not in the computer and nobody knew I was there.
Nice.
I went in to speak to triage nurse number two, giving her all of my information and hugging my specimen close to me. I had gotten somewhat attached to it and didn't really want to let it go. In the end, though, I had to turn it over, and it disappeared. I was ushered into a treatment room and awaited the physician.
The doctor was an affable, friendly man who also suffered from kidney stones, so we hit it off quite nicely. After his consult and an analysis of the stone, he suggested a CT scan. By this point, however, it was after ten o'clock at night. Mistress and I were ravenously hungry, my pain was gone, the trip was saved, and all we wanted to do was eat and sleep. Still, I welcomed a prescription for Percocet just in case something went haywire while 30,000 feet over Virginia. I declined the CT scan - having had one in August, after all - and the two of us headed home by way of the local pharmacy.
Once home, Mistress and I had our dinner from the restaurant - which was fabulous - and spoke briefly with R. Apparently Stormy had called while we were out and R had very nonchalantly informed him that we were both at the emergency room but would probably be back before long. By that time, R had heard from Mistress that I was fine and the crisis had ebbed, so R could reassure Stormy. Still, I wish I could have listened in on that one.
Very quickly, it was bedtime. After all, Mistress and I had to get up at 4:45 the next morning for the walk to the train station complete with luggage. This was going to be very exciting.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Let me give you an image; a man stands up in the back room of a gay bar, looks at his knees and tells the man standing next to him, “Those are going to be sore in the morning!”
And now for the clean explanation.
Up until last night, I had only been to two gay bars in my life. It was many years ago and as I recall, the cigarette smoke was so thick you needed navigational instruments and fog horns to find you way around. So the visits were brief. And unproductive.
Last night was something different.
First of all, the reason for going had nothing to do with cruising or any of the other classic reasons for going to a gay bar. The Boston Ramrod was holding a holiday party and Mr. Boston Leather was going to be putting in an appearance as Santa Claus. He got in touch with Mistress a while back and asked if she had some ponies who might be interested in being reindeer for the evening. The occasion was a fund raiser to benefit AIDS education and outreach for leathermen. Photo ops with Santa and his “reindeer” were being offered for five dollars and raffles were being held for several very intriguing grab bags that sat under a Christmas tree.
I arrived at Mistress’ house in the early afternoon. On these “day trips”, I like to do all I can to maximize face time so I try to land as early as possible and within the bounds of good taste. The party wasn’t set to begin until ten that evening and the other ponies weren’t expected for a few hours, so we had a chance to sit and visit. Quiet moments like that are precious, especially in what usually promises to be a hectic time of year.
Stormy was the next to arrive, stepping through the door about five hours after I did. I cherish any chance I get to see Stormy, and my decision to come to this event had as much to do with that as it did anything else. We talked for a short while of life since the CTK Jamboree in November (more on the Jamboree in another story) and generally readied ourselves for the arrival of Northern Belle. Northern Belle, is a voluptuous, vivacious and...gregarious...pony girl switch who is as outgoing as a person can be without incurring damage. She's great fun to be with, but taking a little time to ready yourself for the experience is usually a good idea.
Once we were all gathered, we had a terrific meal and got our tack and equipment ready. Mistress packed a bag of reins, jingle bells, and other essentials while Stormy, Northern Belle and I put on as much of our tack as we could prior to heading out. Ms. Belle also brought along some reindeer antlers that she picked up at a Petco store on her way over. I mean, if you are going to masquerade as a reindeer, you need to look the part, don't you? We adapted the antlers to fit our heads (they were made for dogs, after all) by cutting off the chin straps and removing the tags. They fit well enough for the purpose, so we tossed them into our tack bags and piled into the van for the trip into Boston.
Ah, Boston. I'm so glad Mistress was driving.
We arrived at the Ramrod about one hour before the party was due to start and went to work getting tacked up and ready. We were met there by Andrea, our stable hand, a new stable hand in training, and another pony/trainer couple who had come on their own.
Okay...let's deal with the question that has been going around in your head. Women in a gay bar?
Well, yes. It was Ladies Night out in front. In fact, it may not be entirely accurate to call the Ramrod a gay bar although a great deal of its advertising certainly makes it look that way. It's structured like a classic gay bar with a front room where most of the socializing happens, and a back room where...well...the rest of the socializing happens. But like a lot of other establishments of the sort, survival calls for a more inclusive approach. Gay, straight, lesbian, transgendered and questioning folk are all a part of the community, and it seems that they are welcome at the Ramrod.
Kinky folk come in all shapes and persuasions as well, and what better place to be kinky than at a leather bar? So it was a good fit.
So there we were in the back room of the Ramrod getting ready. Stormy and I began the process of laying out our tack so that Mistress and the stable girls could put it on us. I laid each piece out in order so that it could be easily applied without confusion. And then I made a terrible discovery.
I had forgotten my plume! I HAD FORGOTTEN MY PLUME!
I could see it lying on a table at home in its protective cardboard tube, wondering what it had done to be left behind. On returning from the CTK Jamboree I had carried my plume and tail in my luggage rather than shipping them, so they were separated from the rest of my stuff. The tail made it into the tack bag but the plume had not. In a weak moment I had made the decision to not consult the check list I normally use while packing. I figured I had been over that list so many times that all I had to do was visualize my tack from head to toe and make sure each piece was in the bag.
Wrong.
I wasted no time at all fessing up to Mistress. Better to get the bad news off my chest and suffer the consequences than to let Her find out by Herself. I suppose everyone forgets something like this at some point (Stormy told me he did once) but when your stable's motto is, "Honor the plume," forgetting yours can leave you feeling rather low. Mistress was understanding. There would be no punishment outside of having to go the entire evening without my plume, which was bad enough. At one point, though, She did muse to Stormy that he should not be allowed to wear his plume since I had forgotten mine. The look of horror on my face at that idea amused her, I think. Worse than having to go without my beloved crest would be having to watch Stormy without his and knowing that his deprivation was my fault. In the end, though, Stormy got to wear his plume.
Of course, we all had antlers, but Stormy had antlers and a plume. In the end, I was duly punished by that fact alone. I shan't forget it again.
Watch me forget my dance belt the next time.
We spent some time getting our bearings in the dark of the back room and then started having some fun. Northern Belle went straight for the front room and schmoozed with anyone who would talk to her - a considerable number of people, it seems. Gender made no difference. Belle was stunning in her red Lycra body suit and black leather tack. The very nice gay crowd gathered around her to see what a pony girl had to say. When she told them that there were pony boys in the back, they made a beeline in to see us.
Personally, I was thrilled! This is the sort of thing I have worked so hard on my body for and the chance to show it off a little was welcomed. Belle, Stormy and I all went in for some serious prancing and tail wagging (read "butt wiggling"). Mistress spent some time doing short reins work with Stormy and I, probably more as a showpiece for bar patrons than a serious attempt to train us. Seeing two men clad in leather straps and thongs getting led about by a stunner in a top hat holding a set of leather reins had to be a hot scene. So did watching as She put the two of us through our dressage paces using her crop to discipline and correct us when we made the inevitable mistakes. I experienced a new-found erotic sensation just having a bit in my mouth in this setting.
About an hour of this worked up a light, shiny sweat on us and readied us for the main event. Mr Boston Leather came in wearing his red shirt and Santa boots. He was a friendly gentleman with a great handshake and a wonderful smile. He laid out his plans for the event and we made ready to serve as his entourage. But before the picture sessions, he wanted a shot of him arriving on a reindeer. Mistress quickly commanded me down on all fours for the purpose.
I don't typically do four-legged pony work, mostly because my (almost) fifty year-old knees don't much like the idea and my back doesn't much care for it either. Still, I was more than willing to take on the role for a good picture. Down I went and stayed for several minutes while the shot was taken several times. In fact, Mr. Boston Leather never put his full weight on my back. That was probably a good thing as you would know if you have followed this blog. But even with only a little pressure on my back, I felt that wonderful sense of submission not only to my Mistress but to Mr. Boston Leather as well. I liked that. In fact, I was swept into pony head space pretty quickly and didn't really surface for the rest of the evening. Fine with me!
Once the pictures of Santa arriving were done, we all took our places around his seat for the charity photo shoot. This was to last about thirty minutes. Stormy and I were positioned to either side of the chair on our knees but upright. That presented a challenge because the floor was hard and the bells on my boots would not allow me to rest back on my lower legs, meaning I would have to put all the weight of my upper body on my knees. Ouch! I bore it for about fifteen minutes until I finally had to go down on all fours for a while. I noticed that Stormy did the same thing at about the same time, and Northern Belle had been on all fours all along.
Mistress went around to bar patrons asking if they wanted to have their picture taken with Santa. Some did, but many declined. It wasn't that they didn't want to help the charity, though. I mean think about it. Having your picture taken in a gay bar can be a fast track to unemployment, divorce or a lot of other problems. I'm sure more than a few bar patrons found the presence of cameras in the back room a little disconcerting, special event or not.
When it seemed as though everyone who intended to get their picture taken had done so, Mistress took her turn. She sat proudly on Santa's lap with our head stable hand Andrea on the other side and Her ponies all around. It was Aphrodite's Meadow stable and Santa, and if I may say so myself, the picture looks very nice. For Mistress, Stormy and I endured the agony of kneeling upright one more time. I don't know if getting there or being there hurt more, but I put a smile on my face and bore it. A few pictures for the ponies - on all fours once again - and the session was over.
That's when I stood up, looked at my knees and told Stormy, "Those are going to be sore in the morning!" See? I told you there was a clean explanation for the remark!
That took care of the main event, but the evening was far from over. Stormy and I had earned some attention and we were soon to get it. We spent a little time prancing about some more and showing ourselves off to an appreciative crowd. I danced with Northern Belle on and off, and then stood quietly by while Andrea massaged my legs, shoulders and back. She was playing idly with my ponytail when she leaned into my ear and told me, "You're being cruised!" That meant that at least one gay bar patron was checking me out. That made me giddy and I decided to give whomever it was a show. More wiggling and tail wagging ensued.
Then I noticed that Northern Belle was enjoying some "scenic" attention at the edge of the stage. I decided I could use some of that and moved right in next to her. Andrea seemed to understand what I was looking for and moved in behind me. I leaned over onto the stage and presented my back to her.
Andrea is evil. Delightfully evil. She has a talent for sensation play that is close to felonious and administered what sometimes felt like pure heat followed by freezing cold and interspersed with heavy massage. In very little time I was sailing deep into sub space. The sensations on my back were coupled with the vibrations of the stage beneath my torso as the music pounded out a steady rave-style rhythm. At some point, I noticed that Northern Belle had moved away and Stormy was now next to me. Mistress and Andrea were working both of us, trading back and forth as the mood moved them. On occasion, I was pulled up by my collar for one reason or another. At one point, Andrea asked if I wanted more.
Oh yes, please!
On another occasion, Mistress wanted to introduce me to a very handsome man. I desperately wanted to say hello and shake his hand, but I couldn't make myself do either. "He's a little spacey," Mistress told the man, "we've been working him over pretty well for a while." I did manage a polite nod and a smile, but I'm sure I looked pretty foolish for the high I had achieved on endorphins.
Before resuming my position for more treatment, I whispered in Mistress' ear and asked if we had drawn an audience. "Oh yes," She cooed, "There's quite a crowd watching this!"
Nirvana! I told Her that if any of the bar patrons wished to have a go at me, I had no objection. The invitation was gladly accepted by I don't know how many people. Some gave me a very nice pat on the backside, others just, shall we say, smoothed it over for a moment or two. It was all under the supervision of my Mistress and it was all good.
But all good things must end. Eventually, I had to rise out of sub space and begin the process of becoming a human being once again. The party was over and closing time would soon be upon us. Andrea and the other pony couple said their goodbyes and headed out. Mistress went to retrieve the car. Stormy and I retrieved our tack bags and changed with the help of our new stable hand. Northern Belle was ready before all of us. We collected ourselves and headed out to the sidewalk. There were many words of thanks and plenty of praise for the ponies. In short, we were a hit.
Out on the sidewalk waiting for Mistress to bring the van around, Stormy said how amazing it was the way the time had flown. We had arrived at 9:30 and it was now 2:00 in the morning. It had felt like only an hour to us. Such is the way of time in an altered state of consciousness. I can't wait to go back some day!
And I told you there was a clean explanation, didn't I?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Ms. Nikki's Pony Palooza Day
The first Pony Palooza was held at Centaur Stables - Ms. Nikki's place in CT on Saturday October 18th. Ponies from all over gathered with their trainers for a woodland hike and games. Some had been to Ms. Nikki's Pony Perfection Day earlier this year and so knew what to expect. I had to miss that first event, so I was a newbie in the neighborhood.
I had spent the previous night at my friend Ponyboy Fuzzy's place. He lives only a couple hours from East Haddam compared to my seven, so it was a welcomed crash spot for me. We headed out in the frost at 6 in the morning with our tack bags, food and Northern Belle's pony cart on the car. The sun was rising by the time we got to Ms. Nikki's house, but it was still pretty cool out. Buck was in the yard futzing with a cart that would be used as a chuck wagon on the hike, and being a mechanic by trade, Fuzzy went right to work helping him. I'm no use at all on such things, so I headed in to say hello.
Ms. Nikki met me outside the house with a hug and told me to go in and get warmed up. I brought my tack bag in and found a place to start putting myself together. I had to take a few minutes out to pet the cat, an irresistible little fluff ball who like most cats could not get enough attention. There were the usual things to get out of the way - model releases for the photographer, introductions for people who had not yet met and such - and then I decided to go out and see how Buck and Fuzzy were doing.
That's when I discovered that my stable pal Stormy had arrived. I hadn't seen Stormy since Camp Crucible in May, which is an awful long time to go without seeing your best friend. Phone conversations are great, but they just aren't the same. We hugged until I thought someone was going to have to pull us apart and then started acting with a little more decorum. Just a little more.
By this time. more ponies and trainers had arrived and things really got going. Stormy and I were without our owner and trainer for that day although we had her permission to be at the event. La Dresseuse is working on her MA in classics through Harvard and is currently reading some 500 pages per week. I think she also had some other course work due as well. So you can imagine she has little time to spare. All the same, there were plenty of people at the event that we knew and trusted.
Once assembled and tacked up, we divided up into groups for the brief trek to the park where we would do our trail ride. The path in this park is an old train line. The tracks had long since been pulled up and the resulting trail is nice and flat. Stormy and I were the lead ponies in a four-horse team pulling one of the carts. Belle pulled her cart, and the other ponies rotated around, some pulling with Stormy and I, some pulling the chuck wagon and other carts. There always seem to be more ponies than carts at events, so it's necessary to take turns.
We followed the trail out for about a mile and a half, crossing a road (and stopping traffic in the process - believe me) and then turned back, trekking to a large field where the chuck wagon had been diverted and a large picnic lunch laid out. We stayed at the field for about an hour eating lunch, having pictures taken, talking and generally having a good time. I shared my sandwich with Stormy and ate some of the fantastic cookies that Fuzzy had brought. Fuzzy bakes great cookies.
When it came time to resume our trail ride, I discovered that my mouth was really sore. Remember what your mother told you about not licking your lips when you are outside on a cold day? It's true. My bit causes me to slobber quite a bit, and my mouth had gotten a little soggy at the corners. Now those corners were raw.
Oh well. This is S&M after all, right? In went the bit and away we went.
We finished the ride on the park trails in the early afternoon. Once the carts were loaded onto the trailers and various ponies and handlers were in the vehicles, we headed back to Ms. Nikki's.
If anyone thought that it was over at that point, they were in for a surprise. We no sooner got back to base when Ms. Nikki started setting up barrels for the barrel race. The paddock was large and the surface was soft dirt so this was going to call for some small amount of skill to avoid taking a header and nose diving into the ground, but it was all in fun and would soon prove to be a blast.
Each pony went through the barrel course with a handler. Stormy and I did not have our usual handler, of course, but there were ample volunteers to take care of that. It was clear from the outset that the competition would be pretty tight. One of the first ponies to run the course had only been at it since Floating World in August. This guy was what Mistress refers to as a "go fast" pony. He belongs to Ms. Nikki and it's obvious that she has put some serious time into his training. He took the barrels in jig time and it was clear that he would run away with the prize for that event.
No problem. That took the pressure off. If you know someone else is going to place first, why worry about it?
Still, that rush of adrenaline at the starting line does get the blood pumping, and when I ran, I went all out. Mistress requires that and the fact that she wasn't there meant nothing. Owners talk and she would know if I had shirked. The soft dirt made speed a challenge, but I did my best.
Once we were finished with the barrel racing, out came the poles for the pole bending competition. In this, poles are set up a short distance apart. The pony has to run to the end, weave back and forth through the poles in both directions and then run back and cross the finish line. The tighter you can make the passes between poles, the faster you can finish the course. Or at least that's the theory. Each pony took it in turns, again working with either their usual handler or a volunteer. I got a bit of a jolt this time as my handler for this event was none other than go fast pony I mentioned above. Ponies can also be handlers, so this was an interesting experience to say the least. Again, I did my level best and even surprised myself at how well I managed the course.
But there was yet another competition ahead. This was the talent competition. Basically, it was open dressage during which anything was possible. Ponies and handlers could do whatever they wished to showcase their talents. Some ponies worked with carts, so on hoof. but each of us gave it his or her all. My handler for this event was Ms. Belle - also known as Ponygirl NorthernBelle. Belle is a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. Her energy is infectious and her ability to just plain have a good time catches on pretty quickly. Although I had never worked with her in this way before, I knew what I could do. We quickly put together a sequence and then went out and just did what felt right. No pressure. I just did all I could to look graceful on the soft dirt, which by now had been thoroughly stirred up by all the activity.
And all the time we played that afternoon, Ms. Nikki's horses (the real bio-horses that she keeps) watched with a somewhat cynical affect. You sometimes have to wonder what horses think - if anything - when they see humans carrying on like this. But for us, it was a bunch of friends just having fun.
But even then, the afternoon wasn't over. Now it was time for the game. In this round, Stormy and I had to decide which one of us was the trainer and which was the pony. I don't think either of us has a dominant bone in our bodies, but I volunteered to be the trainer. Each trainer had to lead his pony to a spot at the edge of the paddock and blindfold him or her. Then we had to go to the center and pick a spot facing away from the pony. On a signal, we each had to call our pony to us. Once the pony got to where we were, they had to give us a kiss on the cheek and then we could raise our hand. Obviously, the first pair to do this would win. I think Stormy and I would have done better if I hadn't taken a calculated risk that resulted in his collision with another pony. Oh well. No injuries. But like I said, I'm no trainer.
Once that half of the game was done, we switched roles. The ponies led the trainers to the edge of the paddock and blindfolded them. Then the ponies went to the center. When the signal came for them to start calling us, all I heard was a lot of noise that made no sense. I just sort of aimed at the center of it and somehow picked up on Stormy's voice telling me to go left or right. He sounded odd, though. Not clear at all. When I reached him and gave him a kiss on the cheek (something I did not mind doing at all), he removed my blindfold and I discovered that all the ponies had their bits in their mouths. That explained the noise.
Devious, these people. Devious and delicious.
That brought the games to a close as we needed to get back into vanilla clothing and head out for our catered dinner. The festivities were wonderful and the food not at all bad. I was greatly surprised to get ribbons in both the barrel racing and pole bending competitions. By no means had I come in first, but getting a ribbon on your first try isn't too shabby. The photographs of the event were also displayed on a computer in a slide show and proved very nice indeed. I bought pictures of myself and will post some when I get them.
Once dinner was over, it was time to head back to Fuzzy's. I said my goodbyes to everyone and then turned to Stormy. There were a lot of hugs involved here and once again I thought someone was going to have to rip us apart. It had been so long since I saw him last and I didn't really want to let go just yet. But it was time to go and after all, I'll be seeing him soon at the CTK Jamboree in Texas.
Keeping my eyes open on the trip back to Fuzzy's was a real challenge that I failed on a few times. When we got back, I had all I could do to get to the bed before collapsing entirely. A very good night's sleep ended when I smelled waffles being cooked and heard the coffee maker. Fuzzy had made breakfast for me and a wonderful breakfast it was. Once finished, I helped him take the cart down from his car and put it away. We talked for a while, but inevitably, I had to get into my car for the long drive home.
So there it is. Pony Pallooza 2008 - or at least, my part of it. I'm sure each and every pony and handler saw it in their own way and could tell a good story. I hope this event happens again. I'll be there.
I had spent the previous night at my friend Ponyboy Fuzzy's place. He lives only a couple hours from East Haddam compared to my seven, so it was a welcomed crash spot for me. We headed out in the frost at 6 in the morning with our tack bags, food and Northern Belle's pony cart on the car. The sun was rising by the time we got to Ms. Nikki's house, but it was still pretty cool out. Buck was in the yard futzing with a cart that would be used as a chuck wagon on the hike, and being a mechanic by trade, Fuzzy went right to work helping him. I'm no use at all on such things, so I headed in to say hello.
Ms. Nikki met me outside the house with a hug and told me to go in and get warmed up. I brought my tack bag in and found a place to start putting myself together. I had to take a few minutes out to pet the cat, an irresistible little fluff ball who like most cats could not get enough attention. There were the usual things to get out of the way - model releases for the photographer, introductions for people who had not yet met and such - and then I decided to go out and see how Buck and Fuzzy were doing.
That's when I discovered that my stable pal Stormy had arrived. I hadn't seen Stormy since Camp Crucible in May, which is an awful long time to go without seeing your best friend. Phone conversations are great, but they just aren't the same. We hugged until I thought someone was going to have to pull us apart and then started acting with a little more decorum. Just a little more.
By this time. more ponies and trainers had arrived and things really got going. Stormy and I were without our owner and trainer for that day although we had her permission to be at the event. La Dresseuse is working on her MA in classics through Harvard and is currently reading some 500 pages per week. I think she also had some other course work due as well. So you can imagine she has little time to spare. All the same, there were plenty of people at the event that we knew and trusted.
Once assembled and tacked up, we divided up into groups for the brief trek to the park where we would do our trail ride. The path in this park is an old train line. The tracks had long since been pulled up and the resulting trail is nice and flat. Stormy and I were the lead ponies in a four-horse team pulling one of the carts. Belle pulled her cart, and the other ponies rotated around, some pulling with Stormy and I, some pulling the chuck wagon and other carts. There always seem to be more ponies than carts at events, so it's necessary to take turns.
We followed the trail out for about a mile and a half, crossing a road (and stopping traffic in the process - believe me) and then turned back, trekking to a large field where the chuck wagon had been diverted and a large picnic lunch laid out. We stayed at the field for about an hour eating lunch, having pictures taken, talking and generally having a good time. I shared my sandwich with Stormy and ate some of the fantastic cookies that Fuzzy had brought. Fuzzy bakes great cookies.
When it came time to resume our trail ride, I discovered that my mouth was really sore. Remember what your mother told you about not licking your lips when you are outside on a cold day? It's true. My bit causes me to slobber quite a bit, and my mouth had gotten a little soggy at the corners. Now those corners were raw.
Oh well. This is S&M after all, right? In went the bit and away we went.
We finished the ride on the park trails in the early afternoon. Once the carts were loaded onto the trailers and various ponies and handlers were in the vehicles, we headed back to Ms. Nikki's.
If anyone thought that it was over at that point, they were in for a surprise. We no sooner got back to base when Ms. Nikki started setting up barrels for the barrel race. The paddock was large and the surface was soft dirt so this was going to call for some small amount of skill to avoid taking a header and nose diving into the ground, but it was all in fun and would soon prove to be a blast.
Each pony went through the barrel course with a handler. Stormy and I did not have our usual handler, of course, but there were ample volunteers to take care of that. It was clear from the outset that the competition would be pretty tight. One of the first ponies to run the course had only been at it since Floating World in August. This guy was what Mistress refers to as a "go fast" pony. He belongs to Ms. Nikki and it's obvious that she has put some serious time into his training. He took the barrels in jig time and it was clear that he would run away with the prize for that event.
No problem. That took the pressure off. If you know someone else is going to place first, why worry about it?
Still, that rush of adrenaline at the starting line does get the blood pumping, and when I ran, I went all out. Mistress requires that and the fact that she wasn't there meant nothing. Owners talk and she would know if I had shirked. The soft dirt made speed a challenge, but I did my best.
Once we were finished with the barrel racing, out came the poles for the pole bending competition. In this, poles are set up a short distance apart. The pony has to run to the end, weave back and forth through the poles in both directions and then run back and cross the finish line. The tighter you can make the passes between poles, the faster you can finish the course. Or at least that's the theory. Each pony took it in turns, again working with either their usual handler or a volunteer. I got a bit of a jolt this time as my handler for this event was none other than go fast pony I mentioned above. Ponies can also be handlers, so this was an interesting experience to say the least. Again, I did my level best and even surprised myself at how well I managed the course.
But there was yet another competition ahead. This was the talent competition. Basically, it was open dressage during which anything was possible. Ponies and handlers could do whatever they wished to showcase their talents. Some ponies worked with carts, so on hoof. but each of us gave it his or her all. My handler for this event was Ms. Belle - also known as Ponygirl NorthernBelle. Belle is a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. Her energy is infectious and her ability to just plain have a good time catches on pretty quickly. Although I had never worked with her in this way before, I knew what I could do. We quickly put together a sequence and then went out and just did what felt right. No pressure. I just did all I could to look graceful on the soft dirt, which by now had been thoroughly stirred up by all the activity.
And all the time we played that afternoon, Ms. Nikki's horses (the real bio-horses that she keeps) watched with a somewhat cynical affect. You sometimes have to wonder what horses think - if anything - when they see humans carrying on like this. But for us, it was a bunch of friends just having fun.
But even then, the afternoon wasn't over. Now it was time for the game. In this round, Stormy and I had to decide which one of us was the trainer and which was the pony. I don't think either of us has a dominant bone in our bodies, but I volunteered to be the trainer. Each trainer had to lead his pony to a spot at the edge of the paddock and blindfold him or her. Then we had to go to the center and pick a spot facing away from the pony. On a signal, we each had to call our pony to us. Once the pony got to where we were, they had to give us a kiss on the cheek and then we could raise our hand. Obviously, the first pair to do this would win. I think Stormy and I would have done better if I hadn't taken a calculated risk that resulted in his collision with another pony. Oh well. No injuries. But like I said, I'm no trainer.
Once that half of the game was done, we switched roles. The ponies led the trainers to the edge of the paddock and blindfolded them. Then the ponies went to the center. When the signal came for them to start calling us, all I heard was a lot of noise that made no sense. I just sort of aimed at the center of it and somehow picked up on Stormy's voice telling me to go left or right. He sounded odd, though. Not clear at all. When I reached him and gave him a kiss on the cheek (something I did not mind doing at all), he removed my blindfold and I discovered that all the ponies had their bits in their mouths. That explained the noise.
Devious, these people. Devious and delicious.
That brought the games to a close as we needed to get back into vanilla clothing and head out for our catered dinner. The festivities were wonderful and the food not at all bad. I was greatly surprised to get ribbons in both the barrel racing and pole bending competitions. By no means had I come in first, but getting a ribbon on your first try isn't too shabby. The photographs of the event were also displayed on a computer in a slide show and proved very nice indeed. I bought pictures of myself and will post some when I get them.
Once dinner was over, it was time to head back to Fuzzy's. I said my goodbyes to everyone and then turned to Stormy. There were a lot of hugs involved here and once again I thought someone was going to have to rip us apart. It had been so long since I saw him last and I didn't really want to let go just yet. But it was time to go and after all, I'll be seeing him soon at the CTK Jamboree in Texas.
Keeping my eyes open on the trip back to Fuzzy's was a real challenge that I failed on a few times. When we got back, I had all I could do to get to the bed before collapsing entirely. A very good night's sleep ended when I smelled waffles being cooked and heard the coffee maker. Fuzzy had made breakfast for me and a wonderful breakfast it was. Once finished, I helped him take the cart down from his car and put it away. We talked for a while, but inevitably, I had to get into my car for the long drive home.
So there it is. Pony Pallooza 2008 - or at least, my part of it. I'm sure each and every pony and handler saw it in their own way and could tell a good story. I hope this event happens again. I'll be there.
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