Moonlighting as a princess

I've been saying for a while now that I will blog about this whole experience. Took me a while, to see if the compulsion to talk about it endured, and it has. Here's the backstory of the thing itself - A was doing a local production of The Lion In Winter. I hadn't auditioned - I'm too young for Eleanor, and too old and not right for the French Princess. Fate decided to get in there and be weird, I guess - the original actress playing the princess had a fall, hit her head, and, while she's thankfully fine now, and wasn't able to do the show, and this was two weeks before they opened. I said something like, "I'm sure I'm too old and inappropriate for an ingenue, but jumping into a show 2 weeks out doesn't scare me - I went to French Woods, after all, the home of the microwave musical." So A called his director, who presumably stalked my Facebook a bit (I know I would have done), and had me come in to meet the cast and read. I met the lovely man playing Henry (who really looks more like Mr Wednesday than anyone should be allowed to do), we talked a bit, read a bit, and the director offered me the role right there.

This was right before we broke for Memorial Day, and A helped me by spending the weekend running lines with me. Not going to lie, I was a bit terrified going in - I haven't done legitimate theatre in over a decade. And I had seen photos of the stunningly beautiful girl whom I was replacing, and that was intimidating.  Once I got in there, though, it was all okay - the rest of the cast, particularly Henry, my primary scene partner, were wonderful and embracing of me, running lines whenever I needed, and they were all immensely talented, so I had lots to work with.

I had never played a role like Alais Capet, and I don't imagine I will do again - she's a princess, 23 years old and beautiful. Clever, but very sweet. Not my usual Rizzo, you know? By a happy coincidence, the costumes they had gotten for the original girl fit me perfectly. It may not seem like a big deal, bit it is. No one, in my life, has ever seen me that way. I'm always the brassy dame, the character role who is funny or sexy - never "pretty". This was an entirely different world, in which defaulting to the dick joke was in no way my job. And since no one apart from A knew me, there weren't any preconceived notions of type to overcome. Seriously - I wasn't comfortable trying to be the pretty girl at my own WEDDING. It felt like a joke, like I shouldn't want to look like a fairy princess on that day, and I wouldn't be able to, no matter how great the dress was (and it was).

I had been struggling for the past while with gender identity and what it meant, and had finally landed on "genderqueer female" as a thing that worked for me, but with this - I HAD to use all those buried "girl" aspects of myself, that I usually repress (and indeed, had learned to exist without) because I have never felt entitled to them. But for this, they were what was required, and I would be lying if I didn't say I gloried in them. Every time our brilliant director D would tell me NOT to pitch my voice up, I wanted to hug her. I don't normally get Soprano Envy (except with Music Man, oddly enough - but I think that's only because I have always wanted to sing "Lida Rose" with a barbershop quartet), but the world of musical theatre does largely conform to vocal type, and I can fake mezzo if I have to, but that's as high as it goes, so that limits me to the types of characters they normally write for altos. Disney does a number on your head when you are a chubby, brown-haired alto growing up. The gift of beauty? Naturally blonde hair. The gift of song? Coloratura soprano. Fuck you, Disney. Okay, girls like me can't be princesses. So I was scared going in, that I would seem laughable. Now, let's be real - 2 weeks out, I am sure they were happy for a warm body who could say the lines in the right order. But I got in there (off book in 5 days), and I think showed them I actually had some game too.

I don't know if I'll ever get this kind of thing again. Even the parts where I had no lines, and was on stage with the rest of them sometimes being talked about - I loved inhabiting her. Just standing there, in it, listening to every word everyone else said, feeling what she would feel about it. And pretty? I got to wear my great blonde wig, they gown they had gotten was princess-y and flattering, and she knew she was pretty, so I knew it too. I loved being madly in love with Henry for those few hours a night. One other great thing I got to take away from this was proof that, contrary to pretty much all my previous experiences, there is actually some really good local theatre out there (I'm sure there always was - I just hadn't experienced any of it personally), and bet your ass I will stalk the director and anyone else connected to this production, and audition for them in future - and I won't talk or type myself out of it right off the bat the way I normally do. I think this has made me braver than I used to be (or had been for a long time). And while I don't kid myself that my performance was perfect or extraordinary, or that the girl who was cast in the first place wouldn't have simply been better, I feel proud of the work and what I was able to bring to the team.

On The Importance of Forward Motion

Cat Pedini, 3o
A Just Because POA

First, it is important that you imagine a river. Next, you need to think about other bodies of water, and why the river is different. The reason is forward motion. A river is not only always moving, it is always moving in one direction. Even when the twists and turns of the river take it this way or that, the one direction in which it is always moving is Forward. A salmon may fight the flow to swim upstream, but nothing can make the river itself reverse direction and run backwards. You are in the river, and you are the river. It is as macrocosmic or as microcosmic as you want to think about, and also both at once. Water in forward motion. It is your life, your body, and your world. The journey of humans, individuals or as a species, has liquid in its origins; the amniotic fluid to nourish a foetus which will evolve into a human body made up of mostly water, or the first fish with legs to crawl from the primordial ooze to also evolve into a human body made up of mostly water. It is forward flow, all of it. So first, you must picture the river. Think of the river now as life. Remember, you are the river and you want to move forward. It is what rivers do. You may not know the topography of the river or where it will lead you. You also probably don’t know where or when the river will turn to rapids, bottom out into a tide pool which is almost still when you look at it, or where a family of beavers might have decided to build a dam to block the flow. You never know when a scorching sun will cause the river to go dry, or a surplus of rains cause it to overflow. It is affected by its contents, inhabitants, the silt churned up from the bottom, or the areas so clear you can see everything that lies beneath. Different areas of the river might resemble other ones, but never will it stay the same. It is linear. It moves forward because that is its nature, and it never looks back. You are the river. Why would you try to stop your forward motion? So much time is wasted on regrets, on clinging to the past or even the present, to stagnate in the tide pool, or to avoid the rapids. This is unnatural for a river and it is unnatural for you. However, we must be able to assert some control over the river that we are, or we will be buffeted to death by the rocks within. When we encounter rapids or a beaver dam or some other thing which causes our river to get out of control or to stop, what needs to be remembered is this – you are the river and in the river and have been since the beginning of time, and you can reconnect with it if you try. There are few rituals which fail to include a liquid of some kind. Tea, wine, blood; these are all symbolic of the original liquid which is water, and the original water which is life. Connect with the liquid and remember the river and you will be there; it is ingrained within you. Sometimes the thing that stops the river is bigger than a beaver dam. While it is true that, given enough time, eventually the largest man-made structures will weather away and allow flow again, sometimes it is necessary to take some metaphorical dynamite to the metaphorical Hoover Dam and create a flood so that progress can resume. Back since Noah planted his vineyard and before, seekers of enlightenment have sought and sometimes found ways to help themselves reconnect to the river and restore motion. So often we want to hold on to what is and fear the often painful phenomenon that change is, that we make ourselves forget we are the river and we want to go forward. We must then make ourselves die, symbolically, so that we may be reborn in yet another act of forward motion, and allow ourselves to leave the past behind and continue our forward flow. The reason so many people indulge in drug use or excessive alcohol, or even something as innocuous as escape sleeping, whether they realize it or not, is an attempt to tap that part of themselves which remembers the river their conscious selves have temporarily forgotten. There again must come the reminder that you must control your journey as much as you are able, and not let it drown you. There is no past. There are memories, but there are no regrets. A tide pool is a beautiful place to catch your breath and admire the scenery, but eventually the forward motion must resume. Leave the backwards travel to the salmon, who will mostly be eaten by bears anyway. You are the river. Flow.

The LineCon 1-Line-Per-Person Doctor Who Story

Lemme 'splain - we started at the signing on Friday and carried on waiting for the screening on Monday. I passed round my River Song TARDIS journal to the tired people waiting in line, and we wrote a story, each person adding one line. Sometimes they read what had come before, sometimes not. I present it here entirely unedited...and if you didn't get a chance to add a line and would like to, leave one in the comments and I'll add it at some point. Enjoy!


“Geronimo!” shouted the Doctor. His bow tie suddenly felt a bit tight. Maybe it was because Amy had leaned on the neck-enlarging switch on the console whilst trying to wrap her legs around Rory’s neck, but who can be sure? So she spit on his feet and danced a jig.
Lunging across the console, the Doctor reset the Bio-Throat field, passed Rory a handkerchief, and said “Enough, Pond! I’m not cleaning up any more of your fluids.”
Amy scowled mercilessly, sliding off the console while still keeping her Xena thighs clutched around her husband’s neck. “My legs require nutrients!”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, fiddling a dial on the TARDIS. “Your legs’ nutrients can wait.”
Amy said, “I’m not creative.”
The Doctor produced a 64 box of Crayolas from who knows where and said, “Ridiculous. Colour.”
“Sure beats the colour Amy put on her hair,” claimed Rory. The leg vice grew significantly tighter.
The Doctor briefly sniffed, allowing one jealous thought of ginger hair to pass through his brain, before turning the sonic screwdriver towards the couple. The TARDIS gave a sudden jolt just as the Doctor hit the switch on the sonic screwdriver, causing it to miss its intended target. “Oh, bow-ties and ponies,” the Doctor swore. “Is everyone accounted for?”
“We’ve gone and lost Rory!” Amy yelled.
“Does no one ever listen to me about wandering off?” complained the Doctor under his breath.
“Sorry, were you still talking?” Amy sniffed. “I’m going to go and find him.”
“No! No more wandering off, Pond!” Amy ignored the Doctor and started to head for the door before she was stopped. Amy turned and looked over her shoulder with a scowl, ready with a response.
“I’m going, Doctor!” The Doctor followed after her, trying to stop her. The redhead, however, was stalking off faster than a Cyberman confronted with a rust stain.
As Amy went through the TARDIS doors, she slammed them behind her. She stopped short as she looked up, and blinked, puzzled. “All right,” she asked. “Who are you supposed to be?” She walked toward the center and pondered the various levers and switches. As if the sun wasn’t bright enough, the light bounced off the moon. And then a unicorn appeared, and Amy said, “forget bow-ties, fezzes and Stetsons. Unicorns are cool!”
The Doctor, frazzled by the continual effort of repairing the TARDIS and baffled by Amy’s ever=changing moods, called out in exasperation, “Amy, what the devil are you on about now?”
Amy said, “Doctor, I’m just loading pictures of you on Tumblr.”
“Fumble, wumble, tumble, woggy, loggy, bloggy stuff?” the Doctor replied curiously.
“It’s amazing the things a person can find in a google image search for the tumble feed! Fez-and-undies? Yes!!” Amy replied.
“Don’t forget the bow tie!” said the Doctor, as he raced to the computer to erase his internet search history, lest they discover his guilty pleasure. He also quickly had to shave, as he was hiding remnants of his morning crumpet in his beard that he still had to ward off River.
Suddenly, the Doctor stood up with a twinkle in his eye and said, “Do you hear that?”
“What?” replied Amy. “What the bloody hell you talking about?”
“The drums,” said the Doctor.
Elsewhere, a pair of eyes opened, a pair of powerhungry eyes. “I’m back…”

How The Grinch Stole The TARDIS

This is what happens when you watch a marathon, while surrounded by childrens' books. Apologies to Dr Seuss, and dedicated to Tory Moore, who did this already.


All Companions and friends liked the TARDIS a lot
But the Grinch, a disgruntled ex-Time Lord, did not!

The Grinch hates the TARDIS! The Doctor that rides it!
But what, you may ask, gives such cause to despise it?

It could be, perhaps, that he doesn’t like blue.
It could be envy, for his wanting one too.

But I think or the reasons, the relevant one
May be this – that the TARDIS is used to have FUN.

But, whatever the reason we credit it to,
The Grinch had a gripe with the Doc they call Who.

As he sulked in his spaceship, a cold, drafty place
And imagined the TARDIS explore time and space,

For he knew Doctor Who that was sitting inside
Was even now on some galactic joyride.

"He’s a big stupid tourist," he snarled. “It’s a sham!”
"Time travel is serious! Just like I am!"

Then he growled, with a growl that suggested a smoker,
"I must steal the TARDIS away from that joker!

For, this moment, I know Doctor Who’s on a spree
To roll willy-nilly about history!

To shop! To meet girls! Oh, the girls! Girls! Girls! Girls!
That’s what I hate most! All his girls! GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!

All those girls squeak and squeal, so entranced by his spiel.
I just can’t understand this guy’s constant appeal!
They'll blow off their boyfriends. They leave their own weddings.
They risk disembowelment, enslavement, beheadings.
They all fall in love with the Doctor, that cad,
And when they admit it, he tells them, ‘too bad!
I’m a Time Lord, you know, we don’t go for that stuff,
And if you don’t like that, well missy, that’s tough!’
But the ladies don’t mind because each of them’s sure
This time he’ll be different; he’ll change just for her!

Then he’ll say something cute, and the girl will just laugh.
Then he’ll laugh! And they'll laugh! And they'll LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH!

They'll laugh, and as if on the locals’ behalf,
Go visit the worst of galactic riff-raff!

And there, on that planet all covered in snow,
He will visit the Ood that he freed long ago,

They'll stand close together, with mind-cords a-swinging.
They'll stand brain-in-hand, and those Ood will start singing!"

"And they'll sing! And they'll sing! And they'll SING! SING! SING! SING!"
And the more the Grinch thought of the Ood and their song,
The more the Grinch thought, "No! This whole thing is wrong!

Ten regenerations I've put up with it now!
I must go and I’ll steal the TARDIS! But how?"

Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea!

"I know just what to do!" And his smile was big.
"I'll pick out a dress and some heels and a wig.

Then I’ll track down the Doctor, and then I’ll pretend
I just think he’s a dream! I’LL be his new best friend!”

"It’s the ideal plan!" Then he thought of a snag.
“He will know I’m a Time Lord, despite my great drag!”

If this gave him pause, the Grinch would have denied it.
“He won’t know I’m a Time Lord if I can just hide it!”

So he took a fob watch, and some wires and springs
- Doohickeys a Time Lord keeps round for such things -

Once he tucked all his Time Lord-ness, all the while fuming,
Deep down inside the watch, he could pass for a human!

Then the Grinch said "Huzzah! Now I’ll bugger that fool!”
And he headed for Cardiff, where the Doc would refuel.

(If you’re wondering how he remembered his plot
When concealed as he was in the watch, wonder not.
He’d left himself a note hidden by the teapot.)

"Now I just need to wait – he’ll get what he deserves!”
As he climbed to the rooftop, the sky to observe.

While he sat there waiting, he gathered his tools
Of skullduggery, pilfery, theft, and misrules.

The very first thing, the way he must start this
Was fashion a key to the door of the TARDIS.

“And when Doctor Who shows up,” the Grinch planned with pride,
"I’ll run right to the TARDIS and I’LL get inside!

Then I’ll lock the door quick, while the Doc and his chippie
Are stuck in the cold with their noses all drippy!

Standing there wailing, with nothing to do,
Thus falleth the mighty! The great Doctor Who!

Then I’LL take the controls, and I’ll galaxy-hop
While he and his tart go get jobs in a shop.

With the TARDIS, I’ll travel to old Gallifrey,
Where still rages the Time War no others can see,

And I’ll use this great weapon as it was intended -
The world of the Time Lords expertly defended.

Then they’ll call me a hero!” He shouted with glee.
"They’ll give me a medal! Build temples to me!

They might even make me their king when I’m done!”
Then he heard a shout, “Oi! What you on about, son?”

He turned and beheld, looking quite like a myth,
He saw Sarah Jane Smith, whom he’d not reckoned with.

She stared at the Grinch and said, "What did you say?
Do you know the Doctor? Is he on his way?"

Did he panic? Oh no, that old Grinch was so sly,
He’d readied a story even this girl would buy.

"It’s an honour, Miss Smith – didn’t mean to offend -
"See, I’m meeting the Doctor here. I’m his new friend.

And he said, ‘wait alone for the TARDIS right here’
So I need you to go. His instructions were clear."

With no reason to doubt this, Miss Smith said good night
And went home, following K-9’s little red lights.

And then Sarah Jane Smith, she departed the place
Not a moment too soon, for he looked into space

And he saw the TARDIS come rocket, careening,
It hurtled through space-time, the vortex still gleaming.
Has to pinch himself twice to be sure he’s not dreaming.

It materialized then, on the street, in the snow.
Since the brakes were on, it made that noise we all know

The Grinch worked his way down – from the roof he did steal
Though he found it quite difficult wearing those heels.

The Doctor came out, with his friend, from his ship,
Laughing to bust from their most recent trip.

They didn’t look twice after locking the door.
They’d been off having fun! They would go find some more!

Then quick as a flash, there the Grinch was within,
Staring round the TARDIS with a devilish grin.

"Pooh-pooh, Doctor Who!" he was tickled to say.
"Your TARDIS is mine, and we’re off on our way!

I’ll work the controls! I know just what to do!
And when you come back in an hour or two
Then the great Doctor Who will start crying boo-hoo!

That's a noise," grinned the Grinch, "that I simply must hear!"
He paused, and the Grinch put a hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound, ‘cross the cosmos it came.
It started out lame, then began to inflame!

And it lifted his mood -
Twas the song of the Ood!

From their faraway planet, the Ood sent a song
Travelling through time and space, and it sounded out strong!

The song was uplifting, it rang through the stars.
I bet you can hear it, wherever you are.

And the Grinch, after all of his plotting and work
Thought, “This I don’t get. Doctor Who is a jerk,

With his girls and his jokes and his tricks and his fun
I have none of those things, so they have to be dumb!

Why on earth would the Ood send this beautiful song?”
Then a small voice inside him said “dude, you were wrong.

So the Doctor might not be the man you would make him.
In the Doctor, perhaps, maybe you were mistaken?”

And what happened then? Well, the Time Lords all ken
That the Grinch realized what a schmuck he had been.

He understood then, in his nature human
That existence just sucks if one doesn’t have fun!

And now his humanity rose to the fore
He ran and he opened the blue TARDIS door,

Then he called to the Doctor, who came running back
(he’d been off trying to suss out a universe crack).

The Grinch hugged the Doctor. He gave back the key.
He said of the watch, “Don’t return this to me.

As a Time Lord, I think, I was grouchy and bad.
Humanity’s taught me there’s fun to be had!

You travel by two, but you could make it three -
D’you think there’d be room in your TARDIS for me?”

Instead of a Christmas Card

I’ve never been one of those types to send out a holiday “this is how we’re doing” card or anything, but it occurred to me the other day that this is my first holiday season as an officially single person, and with the year I’ve had, I thought catching up some loved ones might be a good thing.

Gracie is beautiful, gorgeous, and five. She is classified as a child with a disability (nothing specific, we just say it’s a behavioural something she’s going to grow out of), and because of this, she gets to go to the greatest school in the world, where she is making wonderful progress and having a terrific time. Awesome Academy (it’s this special ed school) is also wonderful to parents, let me come in whenever I want, have support groups with in-house babysitting, and I actually joined the PTA. They have me come in and do improvisational storytelling in classrooms, and I’m going to do a yoga class for the parent support group some time soon. It’s fun, and so very rewarding.

Gracie is talking more and more, and one great joy is being able to take her to the library on weekends. Despite all the changes to her life over the past year, she remains a wonderfully happy child, enthusiastic and smart and sneaky.

My health is okay. The MS is under control as long as I behave myself, as is the stomach thing with the hiatal hernia. I go to kickboxing twice a week and have recently started krav maga. No horse riding for me til spring…if you haven’t heard, my beloved Shadow died just before Thanksgiving, and I’m not ready to ride again just yet. Oh, for those playing the home game – I think Shadow is a Pegasus in horsie heaven, not a unicorn. I always said she was part thestral anyway.

I’m not really performing much, and it’s a bummer, but there’s just no time in the life of a full-time single mom with a special-needs child. Camp is wonderful and gets my performance jones out in little ways, and of course the Lady Mondegreen videos keep coming. I have been volunteering places, anywhere I get to use my talents and make people smile, and if they want to pay me, that’s great, but I’m not too fussed. I do miss the renfair a great deal. I’d love to do more stuff and will when the universe sends some my way – but right now I can’t pound pavements, I have to focus on Gracie.

I have lost many people this year, but I have also gained some and gotten back some I thought I would never see again, and that is a blessing. My family remains wonderful and supportive, as do my closest of friends (you know who you are). I didn’t get to ride the World’s Largest Carousel, but I did complete another phase of my Masonic studies, so that’s all right. My cat is hanging in there, and I am beginning to like Doctor Who. Um, what else. I got the roof repaired, and am slowly doing nice things to the house. I take a lot of vitamin D3.

All things considered, Gracie and I are doing really well. I’m not going to lie and say the past year hasn’t mostly sucked, but we have each other and I have hope, and faith that everything will work out the way it is supposed to, and it doesn’t matter that I don’t know now what that is. I wish you and yours a wonderful holiday season. If you are with someone, cherish him or her, and if you are alone, don’t be sad. Nothing stays the same forever, and things do get better. I believe that. Keep smiling…I know I do.

A horse and her girl

“Hey Cat, I think we found a horse for you.”

It was fall of 2006.  My friend Jeanne has her own farm about half an hour from my house, and I would go there to ride her horses when I had some free time.  Gracie was about a year old and Rob was still around.  I had never thought about a horse of my own since I was twelve, so when Jeanne said We had found me one, my first thought was, We had actually been looking?

Apparently some friend of hers who also had a farm needed the space for paying boarders, and the personal horse of (I think) her daughter needed somewhere else to go.  It would be a lease arrangement, technically the horse wouldn’t be mine on paper, but I would be responsible for her.

I didn’t expect to want to go for it.  I was busy enough, I had Gracie, Jeanne’s horses were fine for me to ride.  Then we went out to the ring, and there was this little bay mare standing there.  Apparently when Jeanne went to get her from her friend’s house, it had been raining and the pastures were all muddy, so Jeanne’s first sight of this horse was this dainty brown Morgan perched on a rock she had climbed up on, to keep herself out of the mud.  When she saw Jeanne bring me into the ring to meet her, she came right over.  She was this nervous little thing who seemed to say with every anxious step in my direction, “are YOU going to be my new friend??”

I never knew what her show name was, but she was called Shadow.  Jeanne is the kind of person who prefers to get these older horses who often do not wind up with happy fates, and make their golden years wonderful.  Shadow was about 21 when I got her.  She had a bad back from having spent a few months ridden by some person way too large for a smallish horse.  Apparently a previous rider had also been severely retarded.  But she had done all the big Morgan horse shows back in the day, and had the smoothest and fastest gaits I or Jeanne has ever experienced, and once she knew that she had a Home and a Rider and what her new rules were, she was a champion.

I had never even cantered before Shadow.  She taught me how, and was so smooth and sensitive that it was easy.  I don’t think she had been a trail horse before coming to me, but once she got the hang of it, she would gallop up hills and through fields and no one could catch her.  I exercised and stretched her back and it got better.  She took care of me.  Depending on Rob’s schedule and when he could stay with Gracie, I would go out once or twice a week, as long as it wasn’t raining.  My riding companions were usually the same three or four girls who had favourite horses of their own, and we would often go to dinner after.

Shadow loved me.  You can just tell.  She often gave me attitude and was definitely smarter than me and she knew it, but she loved me and for that reason she mostly did what I asked of her.  When I rode her on shot day, she could somehow tell that Rider wasn’t feeling so hot and she took extra care of me.  One winter she hadn’t been drinking enough water, became constipated, and actually almost died from it.  Jeanne called me and said Shadow was lying down in her stall and wouldn’t get up, and this is always a bad sign for horses.  I rushed out, terrified.  I put down a saddle blanket on the floor of the stall by her head, prepared to just sit and soothe her until the vet got there – but she minute she saw me, she got up.  “Rider is here?  I can’t just lie around, I have WORK to do!”  She didn’t like it much when the vet did things with tubes at both ends of her to clean her out, but she was a good patient and within a few days she was fine.

I could tell Shadow stories for ages.  She was a funny horse.  She topped herself this past summer when unbeknownst to anyone, she got herself knocked up and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, who we named Beulah over another wonderful older horse who had lived at Jeanne’s for a while, whom we all loved.  Shadow was a wonderful mother, and that miracle baby brought her and everyone else ridiculous amounts of joy.

I hadn’t gotten to see her as much as I had wanted to in the past year or so.  Once it became just me and Gracie in the house, I could only go riding while Gracie was at school, and a lot of days I was too tired, the weather was uncooperative, or Jeanne wasn’t around to ride with.  I missed Shadow, but whenever I did see her, I knew she forgave me.  Once Beulah showed up and Shadow was nursing her, I didn’t ride much.  Life this fall has been hectic for both me and Jeanne, and it was hard to find time.

Yesterday I was on a plane on my way back from a weekend in Colorado.  I had been thinking I needed to call when I got back and go out to visit, even if it meant I had to bring Gracie and couldn’t really ride (Gracie loved Shadow too, and rode her with me when she was only a year and a half old).  My phone had been turned off for takeoff, but then we got an announcement saying there would be a delay and we could turn our electronics back on.  The second my phone came back on, it rang and it was Jeanne.  Shadow had had a stroke.  Her back legs, which weren’t good to begin with, had given out.  She couldn’t get up.  There was nothing anyone could do, and the vet had been called.  I begged Jeanne to have the vet wait (as long as Shadow could wait) until I got there so I could say goodbye.  Jeanne gave her a painkiller and a tranquilizer, said Shadow would be comfortable, and the would see me when I got there.

This was one of the longest days of my life.  It took forever for that plane to take off, and then I had a connection in Chicago which I almost missed.  In between all this and trying to subtly sob in my window seat, I spoke to my mom and my friend Julie, and between them they arranged for Mom to meet Gracie’s school bus and stay with her for a while, and Julie picked me up at the airport and drove me right out to the farm. 

Shadow was lying against the wall of the stall.  She had tried to get up, couldn’t, and had banged her head against the wall.  Jeanne had cleaned her up, given her another shot, and was doing her best to keep Shadow calm.  Some animals, when they are ready to go, they let you know.  Shadow didn’t want to.  She was angry and she was scared.  When she saw me, she tried harder to get up, and I talked to her and did what I could to soothe her.  She calmed down, and I stroked her head and said goodbye, and promised we would run together again one day.  Jeanne suggested I go home before the vet came so I wouldn’t be there for the actual dying part.  Julie took me home and I held Gracie a lot, which helped.  Jeanne called me this morning and told me that it was done and went fine, that they had gotten Shadow moved to the center of the stall and once she could stretch out, she seemed accepting and calm and went peacefully.  Jeanne had another horse, a blind 30-year-old who was a mess and had been needing to be put down for a while, so the vet did both of them, and they will be buried together tomorrow in Jeanne’s back field.  We cut a bunch of hair from Shadow’s tail and I will have it made into a bracelet.

Shadow was special, and I think she was lucky that she got to spend the last years of her life being cosseted and loved, and baby Beulah is glorious and healthy and Shadow loved her and was happy to have given everything she had to her baby.  It would have been awful if I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to her, but I think she was glad I came.  An old friend came up with this theory, a few years back when Beulah died, that when horses are as loved as this and they die, they become unicorns.   I hope Shadow is a unicorn.  She deserves it.

It Gets Better, my two cents

The It Gets Better Project is a wonderful thing, and I write in not so much to reassure the world that it did get better for me (and it did), but to let you all know a large part of HOW it got better.

I was bullied for every reason imaginable.  I was chubby, awkward, that kind of smart that doesn’t help you grade-wise, so I couldn’t even fit in with the nerds.  I spent almost every school day thinking up ways I could get sent home, faking illness just so I could hide and not have to hear the teases and taunts from everyone outside my room.  The school years for me were very very long.

I’ve watched a lot of videos and talked to a lot of people, and so many of them talk about how once you survive high school, college is worlds better.  That’s true.  But for some, college is years away

Here’s what got me through. 

I went to a summer camp called French Woods Festival of the Performing Arts, in upstate NY.  Don’t let the name fool you, the program is huge and diversified, and while they do 70 or so productions for all ages every summer, there are plenty of kids who never set foot on a stage and have a great time anyway. 

I don’t want to get into sounding like a commercial for them (they have a website for that, www.frenchwoods.com).  But the point is, I was spending my summer with open-minded, creative people, who could understand, appreciate, and support me.  I would stay in touch with the people from camp during the year, and it would be a beacon during the dark days of school when I was being tormented.

I work there now, and French Woods is the same now as it was then, and more.  Kids come to camp and find they can be gay, bi, different, whatever, and rather than being shunned and bullied, they are embraced.  The internet now allows these kids to easily stay in touch all year round, and from talking to many of them, I know that this helps.  I hear phrases all the time like, “French Woods is the only place I don’t get bullied”.

I’m not doing this justice.  I don’t think mere words could.  I’m sure French Woods isn’t the only place like this out there, but this was the place that saved me from year-long crap from my peers, and gave me an oasis to escape to in the summer, where people loved art and musicals and each other.  I wish every bullied kid in the world could go there and spend a summer feeling loved and accepted.  Until there is college, there can be camp.  They do give scholarships.  Not only does it get better – if you go to the right place, it already IS better.