Valentine's Day is a lonely day for the wife of a chef, especially if said day falls on a weekend. Chef left the house early this morning to get ready for a busy brunch as well as a booked dinner service, and I don't expect to see him anytime soon. Still, as I have pointed out before, his long days and crazy hours allows me plenty of time to spend with my other love - Legs. So it's not a complete loss.
With the snow blowing like crazy outside, it was a perfect day for some "beauty parlor". Cozy in the barn, Legs enjoyed his hay net and I zoned out, remembering another Valentine's Day so many years ago.
I think I was about 10 or 11 and in my early years of the Medium Pony Division with Daisy. Mom was working at a stable whose trainer was a young, charismatic guy that I'll call Brett. There were several other pony kids at this stable and together we had quite the little gang going on.
My best friend of all was a boy who I'll call Andy. To quote a famous movie, "we was like peas and carrots." Andy and I shared absolutely everything including a love of our ponies (who HAD to be stabled next to each other), cheese nachos, and practical jokes. Though all in fun, occasionally our shenanigans would get out of hand, as they did on this particular Valentine's weekend.
We were at a show; it was cold and rainy and things were running slowly...not a good situation for a couple of troublemakers like Andy and I. We tried to occupy ourselves by building a course in the barn aisle out of buckets and broomsticks, but after Brett tripped over one of our structures and just about broke his ankle, we were chased from the barn with the promise that we would not see our stirrups for a very long time.
Deflated but not defeated, Andy and I wandered off toward the concession stand plotting various forms of revenge on the evil Brett. After a brief consult over a plate of nachos, the perfect plot was formed.
I should tell you a few details about Brett here. As I mentioned, he was young. He was also good looking and more than a little vain: always dressed to the nines, not a hair out of place, and never more than a week past a good manicure. He also had recently purchased a shiny new black BMW of which he was immensely proud.
Andy's older sister was a high school cheerleader; his mom therefore had a supply of window soap in their suburban for use in the pep rally parades. New Beamer + window soap + a couple of bored peas and carrots with revenge on the brain = nothing good.
In all honesty, we really did not expect Brett to be as angry as he did. We knew that we had gone to far, but at the time did not really understand why. It was just soap. A few hearts, a little holiday well wishing...good clean fun. What's wrong with that?
OK, maybe we could have been a bit more careful. Perhaps we got a bit on the paint job. Maybe we should not have been quite so thorough with the coverage. And maybe, just maybe, we should have asked someone how to spell Valentine.
Many years later it occurred to me just why Brett got so upset when, at the end of a long day, he was forced to drive home in a brand new black BMW with "Happy VD" written in large letters across the back window.
And no, Andy and I did not see our stirrups for a very, very long time.
PG
With the snow blowing like crazy outside, it was a perfect day for some "beauty parlor". Cozy in the barn, Legs enjoyed his hay net and I zoned out, remembering another Valentine's Day so many years ago.
I think I was about 10 or 11 and in my early years of the Medium Pony Division with Daisy. Mom was working at a stable whose trainer was a young, charismatic guy that I'll call Brett. There were several other pony kids at this stable and together we had quite the little gang going on.
My best friend of all was a boy who I'll call Andy. To quote a famous movie, "we was like peas and carrots." Andy and I shared absolutely everything including a love of our ponies (who HAD to be stabled next to each other), cheese nachos, and practical jokes. Though all in fun, occasionally our shenanigans would get out of hand, as they did on this particular Valentine's weekend.
We were at a show; it was cold and rainy and things were running slowly...not a good situation for a couple of troublemakers like Andy and I. We tried to occupy ourselves by building a course in the barn aisle out of buckets and broomsticks, but after Brett tripped over one of our structures and just about broke his ankle, we were chased from the barn with the promise that we would not see our stirrups for a very long time.
Deflated but not defeated, Andy and I wandered off toward the concession stand plotting various forms of revenge on the evil Brett. After a brief consult over a plate of nachos, the perfect plot was formed.
I should tell you a few details about Brett here. As I mentioned, he was young. He was also good looking and more than a little vain: always dressed to the nines, not a hair out of place, and never more than a week past a good manicure. He also had recently purchased a shiny new black BMW of which he was immensely proud.
Andy's older sister was a high school cheerleader; his mom therefore had a supply of window soap in their suburban for use in the pep rally parades. New Beamer + window soap + a couple of bored peas and carrots with revenge on the brain = nothing good.
In all honesty, we really did not expect Brett to be as angry as he did. We knew that we had gone to far, but at the time did not really understand why. It was just soap. A few hearts, a little holiday well wishing...good clean fun. What's wrong with that?
OK, maybe we could have been a bit more careful. Perhaps we got a bit on the paint job. Maybe we should not have been quite so thorough with the coverage. And maybe, just maybe, we should have asked someone how to spell Valentine.
Many years later it occurred to me just why Brett got so upset when, at the end of a long day, he was forced to drive home in a brand new black BMW with "Happy VD" written in large letters across the back window.
And no, Andy and I did not see our stirrups for a very, very long time.
PG
Now THAT is a funny story!!! Love it!
ReplyDeleteAnd you did a great job of telling it too. Might be worth sending it in to Reader's Digest. *lol*
Does your Chef cook special meals at home too? I always recall the shoemaker's children story when masters of their craft do not apply their skills in their own lives. I was wondering if chefs fall into that category.
Happy belated Valentine's Day. Glad you had someone to hug. *s*
OMG! ROFLMAO! That poor guy!
ReplyDeleteBrett sounds so very familiar to a trainer I used to work with. I think there's one of them at every barn!