Tutt Tutt Looks like Rain!

It’s threatening to rain. The clouds are taking on this physical “gloom-and-doom” appearance that reminds me of Gotham in Batman movies. You never see the sun in that place. It’s like it doesn’t even exist. It’s not raining, but it’s not sunny. It’s not cold, but it’s not warm—not entirely pleasant or uncomfortable. It’s just...overcast.

Departing for work on a day like this presents several challenges. First off, you can’t run to your car from your house or from your car to the office door if you forgot an umbrella or sensible shoes, because the average walk to the nearest subway station from wherever you’re starting or departing is an average of at least a few blocks (short or long). Secondly, if you’re late for work and made it all the way to the door of the building before discovering the monsoon outside, turning back to face those few flights of stairs you’re going to have to ascend is discouraging. If you’re late you’re late, so what’s a few more minutes to turn back and get an umbrella and reassess your wardrobe? If you weren’t late yet, you soon will be once you turn back.

For me, forgetting an umbrella on a rainy day is a pure act of negligence. A fourth of my apartment is a wall of windows. If I fail to notice it’s raining until I reach the bottom of my four story walk-up then I deserve whatever’s coming to me. I wore sandals to work today thinking the dark clouds outside were sporting a bad poker face. I’m reevaluating my observation skills as I’ve just looked out the window, 30 floors up, and seen the streets and sidewalks suddenly polka-dotted with moving umbrellas. Forgot that too. Perhaps in a few hours the streets will only be a little soggy and I’ll have missed the actual precipitation all together.

Similarly, this happens on my way to the barn frequently. Being a “city girl” I usually only get to see Eclipse on the weekends, something I’ve recently attempted to remedy by moving him to a closer barn. A typical weekend morning for me involves throwing on whatever articles of clothing are nearest the bed, tying a bandanna around my mess of hair, doing a cursory once-over in the bathroom and bolting out the door. I usually double back inside at least once before starting my drive out to Long Island.

Then I turn on my car. And my windshield wipers?! Few things are more agonizing than rain on my weekends—especially because Eclipse hates water.

What's worse than riding a horse in the rain that hates water? A rider who hates rain. These forces combined equal one unhappy duo on a rainy weekend. Especially when the rider steps out of her car and realizes she forgot to not wear the boots with a hole in both soles. Soggy socks. Soggy day.

Lame.

The Sweet Smell of Poop, I mean Spring

Where I'm from, you know spring is coming at the appearance of two things: daffodils and dogwood blossoms. There are neither in my current neck of the woods, so how am I supposed to know it's spring?! Oh yeah...that guy...the weather man who LIES to me! I'm on the him...his sneaky manipulation tactics don't work on me. Not that well anyway. It's been in the 30's and 40's here and rainy for weeks, and I want to know where the sun is! What have you done with her?!

Since I don't have dogwoods or daffodils to warn me of the impending regeneration of life I guess I have to rely on my horse's coat...or lack thereof. I know spring is on it's way when I can stroke my horse and get a handful of hair back for my effort. Most people I know hate that, but I love it. Besides, there's not much for him to lose anyway. Thank you, Eclipse, you sweet considerate little arab. I spent how much money on blankets? I don't want to think about it.

Spring in the city. I've only experienced one up to this point, and I don't remember it very well. All I've seen so far is rain and apart from that-- no leaves, no flowers (aside from the oh-so-rare indoor cultivated lobby presentation variety), no twittering birds, no nothing.

Except...

I took a half day off from work today to meet a new trimmer for Eclipse. On my way from the city to my car in Brooklyn on the subway I experienced something so refreshing, I forgot momentarily I was underground.

I was sitting, reading a book and the door of the train opened and closed and with it came the unmistakable smell of horse. My head bolted upward, nose searching through stale b.o. and worn shoe smells. Where is it coming from?! I shamelessly sniff my jacket and pants thinking it's me, and wondering if I perhaps forgot to wash something before wearing it to work (like I care if they are bothered by my favorite perfume! Pah!). But no, to my disappointment, it's not me.

Then, a man sits diagonally across from me wearing some very nice breeches, boots, spurs and half chaps. I think I stopped myself from speaking to him about 20 times. I wanted so badly to ask him where he was riding or had ridden! It was so refreshing, seeing one of my kind. I was searching my mind for anything identifiable on my person he would be able to recognize in a fellow horse-person, but I had nothing! Not even a button with Eclipse's face on it! For shame...

I wore a smile the rest of the way to the barn. It made me so happy to see and smell something familiar somewhere I feel so awfully foreign. But why couldn't I just speak up and say something? Anywhere else I would have introduced myself immediately, but for whatever reason, there were no words justifiable for fear of any embarrassment that may have sprung from the conversation.

What was really awesome about this though, was the fact that it wasn't fashion. I see so many fashionable women's magazines prompting readers to order breeches and riding boots from State Line Tack or Dover Saddlery merely for wearing to the office! Of course I rejoiced at the idea of an excuse to wear my riding attire to work and get away with it but my spirits were slightly dampened at the realization that once my coworkers got a whiff of that ever-so dominant smell of manure my fashion do would turn quickly into a fashion don't-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-good-and-holy! NO!

Sigh. What's worse about all of this is that I'm so much more humiliated for my barn friends to see me in actual work clothes than my riding pants and tee-shirt, because it means I won't be riding. Oh, the agony of heals in a dirt paddock. It's just unnatural.

Who'll Follow Me Into the Dark

Manhattan is frighteningly busy. Everyone dashes here and there and, most noticeably, with their faces to the ground. Don't look up, you may see someone you know, or worse, something that stops you from getting to your precious point B.

The most refreshing part of my day is something simple...friendly conversation between strangers. I get on the train and begin my slow crawl there or back, but I take a second to pull my eyes away from what I'm reading or just pull the headphones off for a second. I look around and everyone's doing the same thing. Almost every single person in my car is straining to keep their eyes, hands and feet to themselves. I can almost hear the gasp of air in the minds of the people boarding the train. They take a deep breath on the inside and solidly block out all thought that might possibly travel unspoken to the person beside then, if they happen to be a mind reader of some sort. Forbid me for feeling someone here might be interesting enough to share my small, insignificant train ride. I will more than definitely never see this person again, but I still don't want to talk to them. But doesn't anyone want to feel interesting? Interesting enough for someone to talk to?

It amazes me. Of all the cities in the world, New York City is among the most densely populated--but of course that doesn't mean we have to all talk to each other. Far from it. Striking up a conversation with someone here is like asking for a shaker of salt in a 4 star restaurant. You just don't do it.

So, it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone reading this (if anyone is reading this) that I feel so very alone here. It is not meant to offend my family or friends who have constantly supported me through everything in the south and now the north, but for the most part they are all hundreds of miles away. Any friends I make here are hard to keep, merely due to the nature of this place. People move away, train rides are tedious after work hours and bars are crowded and expensive. Unless I hang out with a friend after work, I predictably go home and spend my few hours of freedom performing some task of necessity, or not, but it all comes down to the same thing--Where did my day go and where is everyone?

It's always been about animals for me. They are always there. They always need me. They never say, "No, not tonight," "Maybe another time" "I don't want to" or "Can't you find someone else to go with you?". My dog...she's always there, waiting for me by the door and ready to shower me with love simply because I came home.

It makes me wonder why I need anything other than that. Perhaps it's the idea that with so many people around me, someone has to have similar interests as mine. But, Jesus, everyone here is so absorbed in their immediate purpose, gadgets, appointments and fashion to just give a damn about the lives around them. Even being married, this seems to be the loneliest place on earth.

Having relationships is just too much trouble.

Eclipse is an animal, but he certainly doesn't stand around and wait for me to be with him. Quite the opposite. Due to the circumstances surrounding my work, I usually only leave the office around 6pm, so getting home in time to make an hour drive out to see my horse for an hour or less and turn around and take another hour getting home--it just isn't normally in the cards. I see him on the weekends, and that definitely has ill effects.

He is so curious, social and goofy. That is, until I show up. Then he feigns disinterest and places his nose right back in his hay bin. If anyone else shows up to the barn he trots up to them happily sniffing pockets for hidden treats. Imagine how I feel when I see this. I feel like I've been betrayed by the one reason I look to escape that behavior in humanity, but there he is, reflecting everything I brought with me.

I completely understand that he's doing it because he hates that I spend so little time with him. Believe me, it's the last thing I want in the world. I sought out an Arabian horse because of their absolute, undying dedication to their person. He's smart. He sees me coming and knows how everything else will follow. I'll walk to him and give him a pat and tie him up, spend an hour grooming and brushing, saddle him and ride him for a few hours or less. Then we take off the saddle, I give him a pat and let him go eat some hay. It's a routine he's used to and that really breaks my heart.

I want him to be happy I'm with him. I know he is upset to see the other horses being played with by their owners throughout the week and I think maybe he takes out his jealousy on me when I finally show up.

This is why I am moving him to a new barn in a few weeks. I need him closer. I just can't stand seeing him sad. Since he will be closer, I will be able to play with him after work whenever I chose, and I believe that will help me feel less alone through the week myself.

I need our bond. I need to feel he needs me as much as I need him. I need him to know he's not alone, but I think subconsciously I need to be reassured that I'm not either. No one can tell me that enough for me to believe it. I have to see it. Somehow, in the massive population of the Big Apple, it's just not getting through to me.

Perhaps they are all looking for the same thing as Eclipse and me. It's a question we can't answer ourselves. In the end all we really want to know is: Who will follow us into the dark?