August 2007 Archives

I am not ashamed to say that I am a Horse Girl. You know the type- long hair (well, not that part), a faraway look, a Little House on the Prairie paperback sticking out of her coat pocket. Every Horse Girl has a variation of the same fantasy: while walking in the woods/field/neighborhood after being tormented by a sister/parent/bully, a beautiful but wild white/black/painted horse appears out of nowhere. Girl and horse stare at one another; girl beckons to horse with eyes/hand/mind; an understanding between creatures is established; horse kneels before girl/girl leaps onto horse; they ride off into the distance, leaving worldly problems behind. If you are also a Horse Girl (or possibly a whale/dolphin girl) you know just what I'm talking about. If not, well then I just feel sorry for you.

Horse Girl-dom usually peaks around age 12, or at least it did for me. I spent summers at camp riding the trails around Snow Mountain Ranch, imagining I was a pioneer or cowgirl or princess. But it wasn't long before boys became the focus of camp life (and non-camp life), and horses were replaced by guys in my hero escapism fantasies.

A couple of years ago I started dreaming of horses again. I suddenly felt an overpowering desire to groom a horse, to feel the satisfying weight of a saddle in my arms as I lifted it onto the back of a willing steed. I wanted to sit in that saddle, hold the reigns loosly in my left hand and survey the land. I started talking about horses. A lot. Steve tried to arrange a trail ride for my birthday, but it was the wrong time of year and no one would allow it.

But then. This past Saturday. After a two years of wishing. I rode a horse again. This horse:

His name is Shadow and he belongs to Richard, the father of one of my grad school friends. He lives in a stable not far from my school, and I can ride him whenever I want! On Saturday Richard showed me around the barn, introduced me to all the horses that live there, and then gave me free reign to do as I please, whenever I please! I brushed Shadow down, and lifted his hooves and cleaned them. Richard stood watchfully by as I hoisted the sadle up and adjusted the stirrups. Then he left me alone for a blissful 30 minutes of riding in circles around the ring. Shadow is an old horse who can't abide much trotting, so I just walked him around, listening to the creaking of the barn, the buzz of the swallows that dove around us, and the whinnies and neighs of Shadow's compatriots.

It is a full Horse Girl ressurection, my friends. I'm already planning trips to the barn after school- I'll keep my boots and a pair of jeans in my classroom so I can make spontanious trips. Maybe I can trade barnwork for lessons. Maybe I'll give up my love life to devote more time to the horses (now that is just taking it too far, Willow!) Anyway. Horses Girls!!!!

PS, This little baby horse lives at the stables too, and he let me hug him, and he nibbled my shoulder! Eeeee!

You might be wondering how I am spending my summer.

Well.

For one thing Mike is helping me to become a better swimmer. When he was in high school he was on the swim team, and so he has great advice for me like: "Swim faster!" "Kick better!" and "That's not a real stroke!" He also squeezes my foot just right when the dumb flippers make it cramp up and obligingly swims around my when my backstroke gets all crooked. Joking aside, he is a good teacher. It turns out lap swimming is fun! More fun than the elliptical machine, although I can't get my illicit US Weekly fix in the pool. Also it makes my entire body sore in a good way. Sore body = good workout.

And.

I have been reading a lot. Of course. I plow through my New Yorkers in about 3 days and read books while waiting for the next issue to arrive. So far this summer I have read 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows', 'The Yiddish Policeman's Union,' 'Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman' (the Haruki Murakami short stories mentioned in a previous entry), and I'm working on "What is the What' by Dave Eggers. Also Mindy Kaling (Kelly from the Office)'s amazing shopping blog. Also US Weekly, but only at the gym, so shh!!

And.

Today I finally went to Ikea for the first time. I loved it. I found so many things for my apartment and my classroom, and the crowds were dense but not that annoying. It was just a scouting mission though. I need to take some measurements around here before I make any major purchases. However I did pick up a few small items and carry them around the store for two hours before abandoning them in the face of massive check out lines. They were just not that crucial, and anyway the smell of hot, fresh cinnamon roll was tugging me toward the snack bar. I ate a giant, delicious, gooey $1 mess as I trekked back to the overflow lot. Mmm. Swedes sure do cinnamon rolls right.

I have done other things this summer too: camped, taught a summer course, went on a road trip with my mom, got some cavities filled, put $600 into my car, enjoyed a wet What The Heck Fest, and tutored a nice 5th grader on the intimate details of fractions and long division. Summer Vacation!

In two weeks I go back to school. Until then- more naps, more books, more swims. And hopefully some tubing down some river. Yup. You heard me.

I feel fairly confident that this rock will remain in the street forever.

Tonight I was witness to an admittedly petty crime. About an hour ago I was settling into a book of short stories on the couch while Sleepy Mikey was going to sleep. I live on a busy corner, and my windows are single-pane and rickety so I often hear drunks being drunk outside. So I'm reading my book when I feel my apartment tremble and hear a group of people outside laughing and shouting about levers and pulleys. See, there is a big rock that sits on the sidewalk just below my window. It is about 2 and a half feet tall and roundish. It has been there for as long as I remember. Kids like to climb on it, drunks like to sometimes stand on it. These drunks wanted to push it somewhere. The shaking I felt was them trying to rock it into motion. They had little luck, and one of them suggested finding a crowbar to pry it loose. A few minutes later they departed, and I figured that was the end of it. What drunks have the stamina to track down a crowbar to lever a rock? When I'm drunk I just want to dance around and then abruptly want to go to sleep.

But these drunks had staying power. About 20 minutes later I heard them return, and felt the building shake once again. I heard the rock rolling down the sidewalk amidst their shouts of triumph. But I was alarmed! I live on a slight hill, and there are many cars parked on my street! Some of them belong to my friends! One of them belongs to me! That rock could do a lot of damage! I decided to shout at them:

"Hey! Could you not push that rock around? I'm afraid it might hit a car."
"Umm... It's sorta too late."

They laughed some more and started to run away down the street. As they ran one guy shouted, "Fuck cars!" To which I (loudly) replied, "Fuck you!" He responded with a (pretty funny) "Fuck your car!" And then they were gone.

The rock- now resting in the street- was visible to me, but the parking spot directly beside it was blocked from my line of sight by a big tree. I assumed there was a car there with rock damage, so I called the police. I figured that the owner of the damaged car would get a better settlement from their insurance if a hit-and-run (of sorts) was reported. I called 911;

"Um, hi. Some people just rolled a big rock into the street outside my window and I think it hit a car."

The woman on the other end of the line typed furiously as I described my location, the suspects, and the direction they had fled. She took my name and number and I went to bed- mostly to wake Mike up and report on the action. A few minutes later my phone rang. It was a cop, calling me from his cell phone on the street below. I could see him out my window, and could hear his end of the conversation both through my earpiece and the open window. I tried to wave at him but he didn't see me. He asked again about the suspects and told me they had been intercepted nearby. He asked if it was 3 guys and 2 girls, and I said I only saw one girl. He told me it was probably the same group of drunks, as one of the girls they picked up "didn't look much like a girl." He also told me there was no damaged car beside the rock. I felt kind of bad. I've participated in some drunken antics in my day, and rock-tipping may well end up on my agenda some day. But I figure if there was no property damage they probably didn't get ticketed. I hope they just got a stern lecture.

Anyway, after we hung up I watched the cop kick at the rock a couple of times, make some calls on his radio and eventually drive away, only to return a few minutes later with 2 more cops in a car of their own. The three of them seemed to get a kick out of that big ol' rock just sitting in the street. One of them suggested that the three of them could life the rock back onto the sidewalk, but Cop Number One refused. "No way dude! I don't want that rock rolling over here and hitting my squad car!" They kicked the rock a few time (more apartment shaking) and joked that if left there the rock would probably get pushed all the way down the street by morning. You know, by other drunks. Shrugging their shoulders they returned to their cars and drove off.

I saw the first cop drive by a couple more times to shine his light on the rock and speak softly into his walkie talkie. Assuming the action was over I got into bed and tried to go to sleep, but no! Just as I tucked the covers under my chin I heard a deep rumbling and was forced by curiosity to return to my perch at the window. I tow truck was backed up to the rock with lights all flashing and engine all loud. Apparently the driver couldn't figure out a way to hoist the rock up onto his truck though, because a few minutes later he turned off his lights and drove away. The rock remained.

I waited a while to see if he would return, but the street was relatively quiet- just a few stragglers leaving the bars up the street, walking alone or in small groups, some stopping to flip through the old beat up records Eric leaves outside his store for just that reason.

I decided to type this entry because a) I haven't really posted all summer, b) Mike doesn't want me to wake him up any more times for updates, and c) the stories I was reading before this whole drama unfolded were of the police-blotter school. Also d) I took a long nap today and can't really sleep.

Anyway, as I was typing one final vehicle pulled up beside the rock. It was a truck from Portland's maintenance department, and the driver acted without hesitation. He pulled a flashing orange and white hazard marker out of his truck and placed it next to the rock, then promptly drove away.

That's it. A faithful account. Tomorrow I'll go down and take a picture of the rock and marker, if they are still there. Now the street is deserted and I am going to sleep.