Dickmaster

Today I went to the barn.
First though, I woke up on the couch. Where I had no recollection of falling asleep.
It was bizarre. I was home by myself last night, tidying up (which is a new thing that Adam taught me), watching tv, petting the cats, and I discovered a leftover JOOSE in the fridge.
So I drank it while I did some internet research.
One drink.
And BOY WAS I DRUNK. I have no idea how that happened off of one measly drink, but boy whee.
Woke up this morning on the couch with a Chanello's box to my right with an untouched tomato/pineapple pizza inside.
Bizarre.
Anyway.
Woke up this morning, did not shower, cause who showers before going to muck out stalls, purchased Benadryl, H2O, and sunscreen, and drove out to the barn.
(I am KILLING on kid's Jeopardy, by the way.)
There are so many horses there. Just around every corner there are three more. Big ones, small ones. I looked immediately for the one that looked like a hirsute shoebox who was named Snickers. Did not see him.
Then found him standing tethered to a low fence waiting to be ridden. He has received a SEVERE haircut and now looks like a pony instead of walking underbrush.
All the ponies were in and out all day because the riders alternate between taking trail rides, doing ring work, and receiving lectures on horse care. I followed Jan around for most of these lectures and learned how to do things like wrap horses' legs when they are going to be traveling. On the resume.
All along the back fence are tied a long row of miserable ponies. It is too hot. There is Thunder, who is from all I can see an actual albino. His lips are very chubby and crinkly. So I squeezed them.
Then there was George, a bay who recently underwent shoulder surgery and hates everyone. I stood next to him and stroked his neck and he switched his tail and stamped his front foot over and over again. Cannot really blame him. If I had just had surgery, I would prefer to be in my room on my Percocet to being roped to a fence standing in dung being fretted over by first graders.
Also Elmo, who looked dumb as sour cream and who likes to keep his front foot inside his water bucket.
Spotlight is a pinto who sufferes seasonal allergies and as a result has to be kept in her room and not ridden.
Oreo is a wee pony about the size of a house cat who was very well behaved even though he had to stand in the sun all day.
For a moment, I thought I saw one of the campers riding Ashley, who is Nora's snow white horse, but then I thought, NO, it couldn't be. Ashley is much more suited for a career as lawn sculpture than she is to trot in circles with some grimy child on her back.
I learned that a horse barn is essentially a gigantic litter box. Jan showed me w here the horse-sized litter box scoopers are, and I was put on poop patrol.
Which surprisingly doesn't smell bad. There is a definite technique one must acquire though.
I saw Merlin, who is a 35 year old pony whose spine is like a steak knife and all but exposed for you to sit on. But he has no idea he is 35, which makes him in horse years like 670. He is brisk and quite lovely and looks Arabian to me though that is not a very educated guess.
Then I got to go in with a brush (I tried to pick on that wasn't a Brillo pad) and groom Bert.
Bert is so named because he belonged to Burt Bacarach. He is a LARGE Thoroughbred. He is 18. Burt B. decided he didn't want equine Bert anymore after equine Bert grew out of running races.
Bert was so hot. He has a fan rigged up in the ceiling of his stall and he places his face directly in front of the fan. His bottom lip dangles open lethargically. His penis keeps peeping in and out of it's- well, it's where it goes. I don't know if that has anything to do with the heat.
Anyway, I go in and bolt the stall door shut behind me and brush him until he looks like a dining room table. He is a good boy. Nora is going to ride Bert later today in a horse show.
There is a beautiful chestnut horse in a stall next to the horse showers. His stall is covered in large white posterboard signs saying DO NOT FEED THIS HORSE ANY SNACKS! ANY SNACKS AT ALL!
I ask Jan why this is. I think perhaps he has special dietary needs. Jan says he is too fat.
Then I start to feel nauseous again, perhaps from Benadryl on mostly empty stomach, and go home.
I take money to the costume shop.
I come home, make an annoying phone call (I wasn't annoying- the person I called was- fancy that, Tom), work some more on my crossword and take a nap.
I don't know what to do about myself. I will figure it out. I have lots of friends and postcards with ducks on them.
Adam- btw- Megan read the duck postcard, and halfway through the reading looked up at me with a quizzical expression and said, "Dickmaster?"