I know, I should be writing about Juliane's wedding, and I will, I promise, but right now, I want to be writing about horses. The two are related, of course, in that Juliane is a 3-day eventer and we met at riding camp, eons ago, but I'm going to write a little more personally than that.

There have been horses in my life for a long time, and for a few years, because of school and extreme financial strain, I lived pretty much horseless. Rick has been with me for the entire period of horselessness and does not fully comprehend the depth of my love of those animals, nor the happiness I derive from being with them. I enjoy working with them, being near them, touching them, talking to them, even smelling them. I am comforted by them. I do not fear them. Horses move me. When I need to think, or when I need to escape, I can think of nothing so appropriate than going up the road, or down the path, alone, with a horse.

My friend, Kerri, has horses and it is at her farm where I ride here in Peterborough. I went out there this morning austensibly for a riding lesson, but found the house empty. Not wishing to waste the trip, I decided to ride anyway. There is a horse at her barn that I am in the process of falling in love with, named Peek, and despite the rain, some quality time just the two of us would be (and was) very nice. Peek is a talented horse. He's handsome and young, unfettered by previous training, unspoilt. He is a gentleman, polite and sensitive, but not lacking in personality. In fact, he has a stubborn streak and a sense of humour (yes, horses can) which can be both amusing and irritating. And I think he's awesome.

Two months ago, Peek had only just been jumped for the first time. Today, I took him around a short course of fences that posed little challenge for him. We also went for a ride up the road, which was good for me, because I'm feeling moody and needed to think. It was drizzling the whole time, but that kept the bugs down and the temperature cool. It was really nice.

I would like to continue working with this horse, to show him, to take him places I've never been. My passion, which has laid dormant for so long, has been rekindled this summer and it leaves me wondering what to do. I am about to venture out into a whole new world of adventure, leaving for Winnipeg in three weeks, and after that, who knows? I may end up as much in Peterborough as in New York, or London.

Today, I told Peek that I would have patience and would weigh all possible decisions with great care. I am not ready to settle, I don't know what I want, but now that I have 'the bug' again, I don't want to let it go, and I don't want to let go of Peek. No doubt, this is some great metaphor for life, but a clue would be nice. I wish I didn't always have to choose one thing over another - why can't I have it both ways, sometimes?

I'm not always very patient.

Okay, let me finish talking about the reunion for now, and we'll come back to the wedding afterward. If I leave it any longer, I won't write any more about it at all.

Anyway, Sunday was the games day and generally unstructured fun day. In previous years, this involved a big picnic at Kelso Conservation area, and I have to say, I do miss that location for the activities because there was just so much land on which to roam about. Well, we had to find room to have our water balloon pkill (player killing) competition and gladatorial combat (the road and hill beside the campsites). Before this could happen, the water bombs had to be filled.

This job was taken up most generously by Gareth and myself, with some intermittent help from Jen and Ken. Oh, a poem. Heh. I had no idea Ken was so good with a nozzle. ;) At any rate, Gareth and I were a stoic pair, bravely contending with poor taps and it took over an hour to fill them all, maybe even close to two hours. While this was going, Rick was playing poker. I ended up stripped down to my bra because of the brutal heat and Rick came out of the woodwork long enough to slather me with some sunblock. I had a rather nice, peaceful time talking with Gareth during this time and we hit it off rather well.

There was also a violent water fight between several of us, resulting in grass stains, bruises, clothing drying over cars and in bushes, and crushed and/or revenged egos. My knee is still bruised from when my fight got out of hand and Gareth still feels guilty for tripping me. As he should. The slave auction was also on the Sunday, and didn't raise that much money, unfortunately because there was a lack of drunken purchasing. I played cards, ate, drank and was merry. Did I mention I drank? Well, Sunday was my night for liberal imbibing and Monday was my day for being hung over. Which was okay, because it was fun and I had no responsibilities. Yay !

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And, also, from Meriam-Webster's August 7th Word of the Day:
gruntle \GRUN-tul\ verb

: to put in a good humor

Example sentence:
"He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled." (P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters)

Did you know?
"Gruntle" is the result of a mistaken assumption about the verb "disgruntle," which means "to make ill-humored or discontented." The prefix "dis-" often means "to do the opposite of," so people naturally assumed that in order to have a "disgruntle" there must be a "gruntle" with exactly the opposite meaning. But actually, "dis-" doesn't always work that way — in some rare cases it functions instead as an intensifier. "Disgruntle" developed from this intensifying sense of "dis-" plus "gruntle," an old word meaning "to grumble." "Gruntle" began to mean "to make happy" only in the 1920s, when it was assumed to be the antonym of "disgruntle." By contrast, "disgruntle" has been around since 1682, and the original grumbling "gruntle" dates back to 1589.

So, here I am, on dial-up, again, in the middle of the night, with Juliane's (normally sophisticated) mother (currently sporting a 25-year old orange tube-top) running her speech past me. It's a rambly speech. I didn't like it, and I told her it had no flow. She agreed, but I'm not sure she'll be able to change it.

Okay, so now she's gone to bed and I'm the last one awake, as per last night. What am I doing tonight? Tonight, I am printing each programme one at a time, making sure they print correctly on both sides, and fighting with Primus. I can't tell if it is the service provider or the all-in-one printer that keeps dropping the connection, but which ever it is, it's really annoying. At any rate, I've been working on these programmes for most of the evening. First designing them, and by the time I'm done, three quality hours futzing with the printer. When I asked her two weeks ago if she needed help with programmes or anything because I do graphic design, she said, "Ya, maybe..." I didn't expect to be doing them at nearly 2am the night before the wedding. Heh. Silly me. I should have known better. :)

So, returning to the Reunion from last weekend...

Saturday, last week, was the traditional trip to the Renaissance Faire. Of course, the company that ran it pulled out, so it's now a pared down event, at a new location (the Royal Botanical Gardens), that was cobbled together in three weeks. COnsidering this, they did a really tremendous job. Sadly, Zoltan was not performing, so I'll have missed him this year, but that's okay. I enjoyed the joust, which although also pared down, was really entertaining. A neat thing was that we got to meet "Jake the Jousting Horse" afterward. Much more fun for the family. I played at archery, which was terribly amusing, especially when I set about distracting my friend, Gareth, with the threat (which I made good on) of pinching his bum. It was very fun. Rick bought a sword - Chinese militia - which made him happy, and I ... I bought food. I didn't even find a nice hip belt for Tracy's wedding. Oh well. :/ Maybe I will find one somewhere else. Maybe. Something will turn up.

Anyway, dinner was good, of course, with barbequed goodness, and the joy of my friend Kelly hanging around with her newish boyfriend, whom I had not met. I liked him a great deal. Much fun was had around the campfires, with everyone sort of mingling between sites, moving from one fire to another, taking the drinks and marshmallows with them. Jen and Gareth stayed up rather late (until dawn?) drinking, and two other friends, Adrian and Karen crashed in the tent with Rick and myself. Aside from some people talking too loudly, I can't really complain about anything much.

But now, I'll sign off again, because the programmes are almost done and I desperately need to go to bed. Don Quixote can wait until tomorrow (yes, I'm reading it, finally).

Well, since I'm wide awake and sitting at a computer, dial-up internet connexion or not, I figure I might as well start talking about the Reunion a bit.

I arrived at the campground around midnight, maybe a little earlier, maybe a little later, with the bride and two of her other bridesmaids in the car with me. They asked if I knew where the campsite was. I hadn't a clue, but I saw a group of men that looked like RoD types - geeky, half of them over weight, drinking profusely - so I said, "Stop and I'll ask these guys."

"Are you guys with RoD?" I called out from the car and they turned to look, one of them saying, "OF COURSE !" So out I hopped, hugging the other girls and giving Juli a kiss before bounding off to look for Rick et al. I didn't have to look far, because even in the dark, Rick's drunken tones carried easily. I found him a couple campsites in and he ... well, it was something like a cross between a hug and clambering all over me. I think it was meant with love.

I made my rounds and introduced myself to people I hadn't ever met before, and hugged and kissed those I knew. I love going to the reunions because of the variety of people and the freedom to be yourself. This is a very forgiving social group. Here we are, a bunch of people drawn together in a fantasy game for various reasons, from all around the world, with no particular care as to how anyone appears in reality. At the reunions, fat people, skinny people, shy people, boisterous people can all come together without the fear of being ridiculed or ostracised. It's truly amazing.

At any rate, the event had begun. I was in my happy place.

More to come. I have to muck stalls in the morning with Juli before we can go for our manicures. GOod thing I brought jeans and boots. *laugh* You'd think I'd been here before. *laugh* Good happy memories.

Wedding #2 adventure to begin shortly. I'm going to have some serious catching up to do when I get back. I haven't even talked about the excellent, if poorly organised, RoD reunion, yet. *sigh*

So, I suggest you all go away and come back in a week's time and maybe I'll have put something more in here. Now, I'm off to pick up my gown which my friend altered for me and then to head out to the bride's family farm. And so it begins. Again.

Let me tell you a little about my friend Juliane's lingerie party. It was held on Friday night and though I had thought I would not be able to attend, I was wrong. It turned out that it was very close to where we were camping for the RoD Reunion. So, I got dumped there and dropped at the campground later. The party was a wonderful success, and it was just us gals, we the bridesmaids and the bride. Juli got a wide array of presents, including lovely feminine lingerie and silly naughty stuff, and I upped the culture quotient by giving her a book of naughty photographs dating from 1845 to 1945. Excellent.

The hostess, the maid of honour, prepared a marvellous spread of finger sandwiches, veggies, silly desserts, and fruits. There were drinks and decorations and very silly balloons with happy faces in the shapes of penises. Yep, it was that kind of a do. Anyway, the maid of honour happens to live in a the most stately of historic farm manors in the Guelph area. It was built in 1848 and had an addition added ten years later. It's solid stone and very elegant with a sweeping stairwell that rises over the entry way on three levels ending in a gallery. The house is in somewhat rough repair, however; due to years of piecemeal neglect, with holes in the cedar shake roof, very poor plumbing, etc. But it's floors are original, and its mouldings are incredible, and generally, it's a phenomenal house. She is living there with her fiance for a pittance, mostly to keep it occupied while it's for sale. It used to be a B&B before the owner died.

And now, this is where the story gets good. You see, the former B&B is also unfortunately the site of a rather grisly murder. No, really. This is how the story goes:

Guests were staying at the Elm Park B&B one weekend late in October. After going to bed, they heard the hostess arguing with her son who lived in an upstairs flat in what had been the servant quarters of the enormous house. They didn't think much of it at the time, and although it was heated, did not feel it was there place to intervene. In the morning, the couple came down for breakfast and found the son preparing their meal. He greeted them and made smalltalk, but they thought it was a bit weird to have him making the breakfast, rather than her. She didn't seem to be around, but her keys and purse were still there. They went out, but felt an overwhelming sense of suspicion, so they called the house and asked for the hostess. Her son answered and informed them that she'd gone away for the weekend. Having seen her purse and keys, they knew this was not so and therefore called the police.

Don't believe me? Read about it here. The maid of honour took us all on the grand tour of the house, including the room where the deed aparantly took place. The son likely came down the narrow servant stairs from his flat and chased his mother into her bedroom where she probably tried to barricade the door. Unable to lock it in time, he killed her, then burnt her body in the firepit behind the house.

The creepiest thing about the house is that nothing has really changed in it, other than key pieces of furniture having been moved out. It's pretty much as it had been. The son's music festival posters are still on the walls of his room, family photographs are still on the walls, all the B&B related ephemora is still decorating the antique furniture. And Juliane's maid of honour is living in a real-life psycho-thriller film scenario.