Do I wake or sleep?

So I had pretty much the coolest Saturday EVAR. The barn was having its End of the Season show, which was fairly casual--not a true show (i.e., a competition, with ribbons and places, etc.) but more for the students to show their parents what they'd been working on. Each of the students went into the ring and demonstrated various gaits while the parents cooed and took pictures. I had gotten there early to help, and spent a lot of time either gatekeeping (to keep the parents from trying to enter the ring) or being chattered at by a bunch of little girls :) (Riding is SUCH a girl-coded sport!) I also talked a bit with some of the other adult riders, including one who was startled to hear that I'd never been thrown. I don't see that as particularly significant--I think pretty much every rider eventually gets thrown, and I'm sure it will happen sooner or later to me. But I think hunt seat training helps with that--you're able to adjust your seat better when you train hunt seat, and therefore you're less likely to lose it. For instance, this incident? That horse was *rearing* but I kept my seat--because I went into three point position.

At the end the few other adult (advanced, that is--there is actually an adult beginner who also showed with the other students) riders and I (just four of us altogether) did this kind of formation ride and then everyone applauded and it was over. After that the students kind of hung out watching us ride--we went into the turnout pasture to ride some more. The pasture has a lot more room than the rings, but the horse I was on (Magic) was not really in the mood after the past several hours. Magic is an older horse--I've ridden him before and never had problems, but I also had a crop that other time. So I ended up switching horses and getting on a new (to me) mare called Pearl who was AWE-SOME. So, so energetic and fast. In fact I had to leave the pasture and ride her in the ring, she wanted to go so fast--a full GALLOP. She settled down a little bit in the ring and we worked trot and canter for quite a while. CANTERING, I CANTEREDCANTEREDCANTERED FOREVER. IT WAS AWESOME. I've never ridden a horse that could go from a walk directly into a canter--man, you just had to think the new gait and she was there. Incredible.

One of the girls took some shots of me as I was working Pearl.

I love Pearl's psycho look here. My form does not look so good here, though--I should be sitting up straighter and my heels should be further down. Maybe it's the angle, because my seat is usually better than this.

Pearl and I cantering. I look like I'm in three-point (jump) position here.

More cantering. Isn't that backdrop incredible?

Working the trot. I had to keep fairly short reins on her because she wanted to go SO BADLY.

One of the little girls draped herself over the gate and kept asking me "Are you gonna keep riding her?" She loved Pearl--kept asking me about her. Finally I decided to give her (the horse) a rest and walked her to cool her down, then groomed her and turned her out. People were starting to leave so I was going to say goodbye to the owners but he wanted me to stay for a bit--wanted to "discuss next year." I waited for quite a while as he talked to other people but finally (the man can TALK) I said I had to go, so he told me to call him the next day.

On my way back over the footbridge to my apartment I was grinning like crazy. Man oh man, do I love to ride a horse that wants to GO. I was walking down 111th--right after I get off the footbridge, there's often a veterinary truck so I patted this one doggy and chatted with the owner who as it turned out was from Albania. Then I turned down 110th St.--I just enjoy that walk, as the apartment buildings seem really nice on that block, for some reason. As I passed by one building, suddenly someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned around and there was a young woman and a guy standing there--she asked me "excuse me, I noticed your boots--are you a rider? Do you ride around here?" WELL. We ended up having this whole long conversation about riding and where to ride and all sorts of things. As it turned out she's from Belgium--I said I spoke a bit of French and we conversed.

Ma belle-soeur, elle est francaise, Parisienne.

Elle habite en Paris?

Non, elle et mon frère--il travaille avec le--the US Navy, in Naval Intelligence. Et ils habitant, avec leur fils and fille, en Oslo, Norway. Avant, en Naples. Je voudrais lui visiter, quand c'est possible.

Only my sentences were punctuated with a lot of ums and ahs as I searched for the correct word! But she was impressed, and said "you speak very good French!" I think it's just the fact that I can compose a sentence at all--my French is strictly conversational, for the most part. Anyway we exchanged numbers and made plans to get together for drinks--and she called the stable the next day and set up a time to meet the owner and ride! So not only do I have a friend in the neighborhood with whom I can practice my French, but she also rides!!!

We have another building mixer tonight which will interfere with my preparations for the housewarming. I've bought a ton of stuff to prepare/make for Saturday including SIX seasonal items (all homemade, of course). Anyway I had to make something for tonight (no, I will NOT be buying a bag of chips like *some* slackjaw neighbors :) So I whipped up some pecan toffee. The recipe is actually quite easy and you don't even need a candy thermometer.

My Mom visited last week--she bought me a crockpot, very shiny and pretty and red. She's an amazing cook and is always encouraging me to cook more so together we cooked up a storm, including my making a chicken pot pie FROM SCRATCH. Believe it or not, I actually do not like chicken so when I make it again I will substitute scallops or something like that, and maybe some white wine. But most fun, on Sunday we made omelets and mimosas and ate them on the terrace!



Lookit! Brunch al fresco! On my very own terrace! SO MUCH FUN

So I found a stable in my neighborhood--hurrah!

The last place I rode regularly was Kensington Stables in Brooklyn, which is a few blocks away from Prospect Park and has a ring there. Kensington is okay but has a couple of disadvantages--1) It is QUITE a hike to get there. 2) I hate to sound dismissive but their facilities ain't all that. I trained at probably the best college program in the country--this is our ring:



In fact that picture doesn't give a good idea of how huge that ring is--you could easily fit THREE classes into the SBC ring, it's the size of a football field. Sweet Briar also had an enormous campus on which to hack. The Kensington ring is tiny and kind of busted-looking, and we never went on hacks even though Prospect Park would've been lovely (maybe no bridle paths there?). This would not be so bad but Kensington wasn't exactly cheap, and I didn't really feel it was worth the money. 3) As I said it wasn't exactly cheap. Kensington wasn't outrageously expensive by any means (as NYC stables go, it's fairly reasonable) but still, I could only afford 1-2 lessons per month. My instructor never seemed to remember that. She kept saying "next week, I'm going to give you [horse's name]" and I kept having to remind her "not next week, remember, I can only afford it every few weeks." Eventually you get tired of having to say out loud "yes, I am POOR, can you please stop trying to push me into another lesson I can ill-afford?!" Like, are you getting a commission or something with every lesson?

So anyway, that was my experience with Kensington. There are about 4-5 other stables in NYC and I thought I had scoped out every one of them. One in Forest Hills, one in Jamaica Bay and two in the Bronx. The one in Pelham Bay seemed like a possibility but I wasn't sure how I would get there--take the 6 to the end and then the bus, but it seemed like a long walk on top of that. Anyway a few weeks ago I had a softball tournament scheduled on Randall;s island so I Google-mapped it to see where it was. I noticed on the map there was listed a "NYC Riding Academy"--as I said I thought I knew all the stables in the city, so I checked them out. They've been around for awhile--the owner is this OLD guy who is committed to making riding affordable. This all sounded very interesting so I called them up and booked a lesson.

I showed up (BTW, I can WALK to this place! It's just across the East River so I cross the highway at 111th St. and then walk down to the footbridge to the island at 103rd St.) and the owner talked to me for awhile. He is seriously old, 83, although he looks much younger. We talked about training, what kind of riding I like, etc.--he picked out a horse for me but she was refusing the bit so I ended up with another, much more spirited mare named Scarlet. The instructor was a Brit who was quite good and understood the horse--we were most working walk-trot, although I cantered once. We worked the trot a LOT, especially working to control Scarlet who wanted to GO. Sarah (the instructor) was critical at first and then quite effusively complimentary--at one point she said "there isn't one rider in 20 who could get her to do what you're doing." I have to say, I LOVE the spunky ones! I love the challenge, the danger, the SPEED. Once you've hacked across campus with a pony who doesn't just want to canter, he wants to flat-out GALLOPand take a fence or two, a sedate little gelding just ain't the same!

When I dismounted Sarah said "you're going to be in pain tomorrow" and I said "I know, my first lesson in six years" and she squeaked "you didn't tell me THAT!" I untacked the horse and cleaned her up and then one of the stable hands told me the owner wanted to talk with me. I went over to his office trailer where Sarah was chatting with him--I sat down and he asked me how I liked my first lesson. I was of course raving--the intructor was great, the horse, everything. He talked a long time (the man does go on!) but the gist is that I shouldn't worry about the money too much. I can pay what I like (a suggested donation, essentially) and if I'm really poor, they'll work something out. He also mentioned instructing--as in, *I* could instruct which stunned me. The thing is, when you ride at a place like Sweet Briar, the varsity riders there are AMAZING, the best in the country, they routinely collect IHSA and ANRC titles. Team, Individual, they've won them all. This fostered in me--not an inferiority complex, certainly, but let's just say I had a very realistic and healthy awareness of how much I have yet to learn as a rider. But literally everywhere else that I've ridden, people have made reference to how experienced they think I must be. When I rode in Dublin, hell, all I did was MOUNT and they knew right away I knew what I was doing! (Which is not that surprising--good riding is all in the seat.) The training at SBC really is phenomenal.

So I went back last weekend and worked the horse (another one this time, a gelding named Magic) in the ring for a half hour, being instructed by the owner. Then he said I was "doing so well" that I could take Magic outside the ring, to a copse of trees on the other side of the property and work him there. OutsideoutsideOUTSIDETHE RING, yeehaw! By myself! I had a GRAND time working on my own and then after a half hour, he had me turn over Magic to one of the younger students, a 12-year old, and also instruct her. I was kind of thrown into this, but I think we actually did good work together. Magic was fine with me, I only had to use the crop the very first time, but was lazy with the girl. Not sure if he was tired or--I actually have this theory that the more you progress as a rider, the easier it gets. And not only because your skills improve, but because the horse can sense you know what you're doing and is more likely to obey your commands. At any rate Magic was fine with me but lazy with the girl, so we worked to overcome that.

The best part of the day was that after all this, Dr. Blair (the owner) told me that I could come over during the week and ride FOR FREE. You can just imagine my reaction. Also my Mom is visiting this week and brought my hardhat. (I detest wearing those plastic ones. 1) They look like bike helmets and make me feel 10 years old. 2) I want my hat decked in VELVET, dammit, I'm a Virginian!) I put it on and started humming "My Friends" from Sweeny Todd and said out loud "at last my head is COMPLETE!"

Jack that heel down low, Clara
Ease up on the reeeeeeeeins!

Tired. The building had our first mixer last night, a pot luck on the back terrace. I made my peanut butter chip/chocolate chip blondies which went like hotcakes. I felt SOOPER uncomfortable at the idea of striking up conversation with a terrace full of total strangers but then I thought--everyone else is in exactly the same boat, it's not like there's going to be a clique of people ignoring everyone else. So I waded in and forced myself to talk to people. I met some people on my floor, including the girl next door who also works in theater (admin, for some agency) and has a couple of Gay Best Friends who were there. Then I chatted up one of the board members and then ended up talking to a young-ish woman and her mother, who were both Russian. We got along GREAT--I speak only a tiny bit of Russian but I can do the accent and I know the culture. At one point the mother teasingly accused me of being a Russian spy, I knew so much! Had a lovely time talking to them. And now I have friends in the building!

When we cleaned up at the end of the evening, they were disposing of food so I ended up with 3 bags of various kinds of chips. Hey-o, dinner!

Last weekend was Griffin's birthday--he'd planned some kind of get together at the bar where he used to work, the invitation to which I hadn't responded but was planning to go. But I ended up playing a TON of soccer--90 minutes in the morning (and the rain) and another hour in the late afternoon. All good (and I scored 6 goals overall) but playing in the rain is murder on my horrible flat, bunioned feet. I texted him that I couldn't make it and said we'd hang out next weekend (i.e., this past WE). I have a like/hate relationships with those kids of large, casually-defined birthday hangouts anyway--I have found that *frequently* bill shenanigans occur. Last year Susan invited me and about 6-7 of her friends, none of whom I knew, to dinner at a not-cheap restraurant. I really couldn't affored to drop $60+ on dinner so I showed up for dessert. When the bill came around one of her friends looked me in the face and told me, in front of everyone, "yeah, we decided everyone's going to put in $17 extra for Susan's portion." I'm not exaggerating when I say I could feel the blood go out of my face. I was OUTRAGED. Do NOT--DO. NOT.-- *EVER* spend my money for me. The absolute, unmitigated HEIGHT of rudeness and presumptuousness. How DARE you put me on the spot like that, how DARE you assume I have that kind of extra money. I showed up for dessert only FOR A REASON. So this year when Susan invited me again, I was all "sorry, can't make it!"

So anyway Griff came over Friday night and we hung out--mostly at my apartment but I also wanted to try out a cute cocktail lounge a few blocks away which I LOVED. The owner came over and was asking me what I thought and I was showering praise on them. Great tapas and bar food, great (creative) cocktails that weren't ridiculously expensive, great atmosphere. I was worried it was going to be clubby but it wasn't at all. Griff stayed the night and we had breakfast at another local place with excellent coffee before going over to Cemtral Park to play softball. I have to say--I may have reached a certain saturation point with Griffin this weekend. I love him but he has this way--he absolutely refuses ever to admit he might be wrong, and he will hammer whatever point on which he feels defensive over and over. Where this usually comes out with him and me is gender issues. Last summer, he posted something pretty stupid, and frankly inflammatory about the whole Daniel Tosh debacle. It was sarcastic (he thought women who objected to what Tosh said were overreacting), it was dismissive and glib, it was really, really, really dumb. Just a few days after that he wanted to come to Hoboken to see the Pirates opening night and I emailed him and told him, as nicely as I could, "Anya and I are both pretty upset about what you wrote and I don't think it would be a good idea for you to come tonight." We ended up having this loooooong conversation about it that was actually quite frustrating--Griffin's fatal character trait is that he thinks his friends should know he "isn't like that." Griffin says stupid shit, espouses or enacts problematic ideas or behavior but then is stunned that his friends get mad. He thinks he's established enough of a track record as a friend that we shouldn't get mad. He kept telling me how "hurt" and "stunned" he was when I emailed him not to come and I kept turning it right around. "Well, now you know how Anya and I felt when we read your glib, sarcastic post on Facebook defending a guy who joked about gang rape in public and mocking the women who object to that comment." So then he didn't speak to me for six months. When he finally came around in February, he still went ON and ON about how hurt he was, how "I'm not that kind of guy!" and how hurt he was that he felt he was being smeared as a rape apologist and oh my Lord. You're the victim here, amirite? I let it pass--I really, really didn't feel like arguing all that AGAIN--but noted it. But I have to say, I don't even know what he learned from all that (meaning, the time we didn't speak). Guys like Grifffin cling so hard to this belief that there are two kinds of guys--rapist, asshole tools, and Good Guys. That's not how it works, kid. These beliefs operate along a spectrum, not a binary. When you let Tosh shit slide, when you don't call out your dudebro friends when they spout misogynistic jokkes or minimize rape--you're furthering those ideas. I know it's hard to rock the boat but you don't get a cookie for not actively being a dick. Racism and other isms work much the same way. I kept stressing over and over--hey, I have a lot to learn as well. Where you are with gender issues, I am to some extent with racial issues. Stop insisting you're the victim and just shut up and LISTEN.

So last weekend we had another exchange like that although this turned out slightly differently. At cocktails he'd brought up something that happened at Duncan's b-day bash at Marie's. He said to me at one point about all the "cute" girls who were there and I'd said well, don't hit on them here, a gay bar is kind of a safe place and girls don't necessarily appreciate or expect to be hit on there. Apparently this RANKLED. Two months later Griffin brings it up, I think mainly because he'd said this to other people, including Duncan, and he was worried it would get back to me :) Again, same objection--as a friend I should know him better than that, he wouldn't make them feel uncomfortable. He went on for awhile and I just let him talk and kind of tuned him out. Feel better now? The next day we're on our way to the breakfast place and he was talking about a voiceover audition he'd gone to--the holding room was also being used for a Coach runway show casting. Griffin had said he'd considered making this "self-deprecating" joke about how usually at voiceover auditions he was surrounded by a bunch of schlubby guys but today (obviously a reference to models). I was like--Griffin, that would not be a good idea. He *immediately* got defensive and started talking a LOT. I said first of all, any attractive woman *especially* one who's being sent on go-sees for runway shows, has heard it ALL before. She's heard it on the street, on the bus, on the subway, in the elevator--she's heard it, all the self-deprecating jokes, all the lame jokes, all of it. It's little more than static at this point. She probably doesn't want to hear it now, during an audition, when she's in her head, preparing for this. If she does--if she thinks you're cute or has her eye on you--the signals will be easy to read: she'll look up, she'll make eye contact, she'll smile. If no one in the room is looking up, I'd advise not making jokes and basically trying to get a reaction from them. Because I've been there before and frankly it's annoying as hell. He was talking with this long, elaborate explanation, this defense of why he *should* be allowed, why he had the *right* to do something like this, a response that basically showed how much he DIDN'T GET IT. I...well, I kind of exploded. I said "Griffin, why are you arguing with me about this? I don't get why you ask my feedback on these matters and when I tell you that's not a good idea, you never, ever accept it--you go ON AND ON AND ON AND ON AND ON about how you should be able to hit on women anywhere. I'm the expert! I'm the one who's been in this position--I can tell you what works! Why do you always get so defensive? Why can't you just listen? Just read the signals, that's what I'm saying!" He went DEAD silent--he's used to me just letting him go on but man...I kind of blew it off and was nice to him after that and after awhile he came around. Then Saturday of course he had to follow it up with a bunch of long explanatory texts and then Sunday in person he did the same thing again. DUDE, LET IT GO. For fuck's sake. Stop talking and let it go!

So--I love him but yeah, I reached my limit for a little while.

Lovely weather this morning! Feels like fall :) I scootered to work--went along the sidewalks of Fifth Avenue and it only took me 45 minutes (it's about an hour to walk). I'm carrying a couple of bags today since I have a soccer game after work--I think I'd've gone faster without so much to carry. Good to maintain non-MTA commuting options, since they just announced *another* fare hike. How appropriate since I renewed my detestation of them yesterday! I took the bus to work and I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I could have walked faster. The bus driver just did not seem to be trying to make any time whatsoever--a couple of times we actually sat through two--TWO--light cycles. Then I picked up a game after work so I had to run home and grab my gear, and then get to the game in Brooklyn. To get there, I had to take 3 trains (6-4-L). The total amount of waiting time for those trains added up to SIXTEEN MINUTES. For a trip that took 50 minutes. SIXTEEN MINUTES. I actually waited eight minutes for the 4! Un-fucking-believable. The MTA is such a shitty, shitty organization. I can't wait until they declare bankruptcy so they can throw out all the pension deals with that horrible union and start from scratch.

Anyway, the game was fun. It was a league game (this team had needed players so they emailed me) and I got there halfway through the game (I'd told them I would be late). They were thrilled when I showed up--they'd been playing down a player, since you have to have two girls on the field at all times. Although we lost, I actually really enjoyed myself--a *very* friendly and fun group of people. Whenever the other team had a corner kick, one of our players would bugle "EVER'BODY FIND A DATE!" (meaning guard someone). It was hilarious. At one point one of our opponents, while we were both grappling with the ball, pushed me to the ground which aroused the IRE of my team! Like half my team went after this guy, admonishing him for playing rough against a female who (I hear this all the time) "is half your size!" He actually apologized quite sincerely so he wasn't a dick, just a hard player. I can't really fault him for that, since I'm a pretty tough player as well, it's just that I can't really hurt anyone!

Got home, worked out, enjoyed my TV.

So I have TV again for the first time in 6 years, yay! I don't even need to watch it that much, it's just nice to be able to catch the news in the morning or evening. Saturday I came across a fascinating documentary on The History Channel (restoring somewhat my faith in that channel, which in recent years has become infested by a host of stupid reality programs that cannot possibly be pulling in an audience--I mean, Ice Road Truckers? Pawn Stars??? What in the flying hell?). Anyway the doc was called, simply, Manson--it was a mixture of re-enacted scenes about the Manson Murders in '69, plus extended interviews with Linda Kasabian (Manson Family member who'd been on the scene during the murders but did not participate and later turned State's evidence), Catherine Share (another one of the girls) and Vincent Bugliosi (the prosecutor). I recognized the girl playing LK--she was also in a movie called September Dawn about the Mountain Meadows Massacre. I had to leave for a soccer game (of course) so when I got back later that night, I was able to look up the actress on imdb and thereby figure out the name of the doc and then see if it was on YouTube. It was! God bless the Internet. So I've been watching it online and the whole thing is very interesting, very well done. I've been picking up on certain things, like: if LK was brought along because she had the only valid driver's license, why didn't she actually drive? And this occurred to me as well--a party of 1 woman and 2 men couldn't fight off a party of 2 women and one man? How were the 3 killers at 10050 Cielo Dr. (the 3 being Tex Watson, Patricia Krenwinkle and Susan Atkins, as Linda Kasabian was the lookout) able to overwhelm Voytek Frykowski, Jay Sebring and Abigail Folger *so thoroughly*? (Sharon Tate is understandable, as she was heavily pregnant.) I assume it was the guns--they probably cowed them with that. Still, it seems odd.

I stood on one of my breakfast bar stools to get this picture.

As you can see, I NEED curtains! The window is huge, very wide--I had to put up SOMETHING so I could sleep, but obviously those will not not be the curtains.

This corner here is what I call The Office--I left my old computer hutch at the old apartment and need to get a new one. Ideally glass, to suit the clean, spare aesthetic for which I'm trying.

Did my first load of laundry in the new place Saturday night (don't *I* live an exciting life ;) Sooooooo nice to be able to do laundry that easily--no wrestling a huge bag down/up flights of stairs and across streets. No $15-20 a pop for every load, or else cram yourself into a tiny overheated room to watch your laundry while the Spanish TV blares. Nope, just grab your bin, step into the elevator, throw in your loads for pittance and walk away. SO EASY AND AWESOME.

One thing I am LOVING about the building and the neighborhood is how racially mixed it is. I have seen fellow residents of every color and race which is great, mainly in my building but also on the streets as well. I don't know if that's due to the building or if SpaHa is close enough to Midtown to be desirable. I don't think it's entirely due to the building--the other day I was walking to it behind a white couple who were looking into the doors and commenting on how nice it was (they eventually passed the building so it was clear they didn't live there). One thing I HATED about my old address was the racial dichotomy--I detested always being the only white person in our bulding/on our street (other than Anya, of course). I don't want to live in a ghetto--either black OR white. I want to live in a neighborhood that effing represents MANHATTAN. I want to have access to soul food, tacos and quesadillas (lot more Mexicans in SpaHa than Inwood which is primarily Dominican) AND awesome cocktails.

Tonight or tomorrow, I hope to finally use the gym. I am almost completely unpacked--I just have to put up a few more shelves (bookshelves plus I have to buy/hang some DVD shelves) and one more project--gotta replace my old computer hutch. I was considering putting up some glass shelves, attaching them to the wall, but I have to talk to someone at Home Depot or someplace like that. I'm a little worried glass shelves might be too heavy. But I don't really want to crowd what I think of as the "office"--there's a lot of stuff on the walls already there, I'm trying to keep the place as spare and cool as possible.

Oh, and I'm buying the painting of one of my soccer teammates. Isn't it gorgeous?



It's going to go in the "foyer." Very Manhattan!

Had such a great day yesterday. I played two hours of pickup soccer at Riverside Park--the heat/humidity were pretty bad, certainly the worst so far this season, and it took me awhile to adjust. During the breaks I was just pouring water over my arms, legs and head to try to cool down--after the second game I'd finally acclimated some, so I was able to play a little better and ended up scoring 3 goals. (I'd taken a ton of shots on goal but hadn't scored yet.) Afterwards a bunch of us went to a nearby place called Cascabel's. First of all, those poor reviews on Yelp are BS--the food was FANTASTIC and the place is adorable. I loved this restaurant--all the food was amazing, they offered a terrific selection of beers, and they had this awesome housemade spicy sauce. I loved it so much, I asked the waiter if I could buy some. He said they didn't sell it but he'd look the other way if I wanted to slip it into my bad. So I did :) IT IS SO YUMMY.

I stayed for MUCH longer than I'd intended to--it was me and about 7 guys and we were all just having a great time. I was planning to leave around 2 and then someone ordered a round of tequila shots and well, that turned into MORE shots, and beer and...well, it was a long afternoon :) Can't think of a better way to spend the glorious Fourth than with an internationally mixed group of New Yorkers (Israeli, Colombian, Mexican plus a couple of WASPy Southerners) throwing back shots and nomming Mexican food! Then I staggered home, napped a bit, and dragged myself over to Paula's where we had Paula-made nachos and Paula-crafted margaritas SO YUMMY. Also I met their newest bebbeh, a tiny fuzzy black thing.

All in all, a wonderful Fourth.