Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Al


                        Stampede is a great opportunity for the city kids to go and learn about farm animals. They get to experience the sights and smells of the non-zoo animals and see them at work. Our experience has always been great. No questions have been historically asked that were outside of our scope as parents of a soon to be first grader.  Until Monday.
            Our animal experience occurred in the Budweiser Heavy Hitch tent. The Clydesdales were in their pens relaxing with hay or just generally dozing. They had a space separating curious hands from the pens lest someone urk a horse and get bit. I was lamenting how much I would love to pet the horses, but was happy to just stand back and admire them.
            I should add that I was at the Stampede with my brother-from-another-mother and his wife and kids. His mom and dad (whom I regard as my own) were there too. The girls were in a chuckwagon (after an unfortunate post spinning ride vomiting incident) which offered shade and a way to not have to walk everywhere.
            There was a rope preventing little hands from touching the horses. I lamented that I would love to pet them but stood back and admired them from a respectable distance. As I was mesmerized by the big brown eyes of a gentle giant named Al, I heard "mama, what's that pink thing?" My gaze lazily drifted from the hypnotic eyes toward the abdomen and a bit further back. There, hanging down, was the largest rogue boner I have seen outside of the zoo. 
            "I think there's an attraction," my friend's mom said as she nudged me in the ribs. A grin had consumed her entire face and she was barely able to contain her mirth. I looked over at the girls who were pointing and staring at what Al had on offer. 
             "I'm not ready to have this conversation," my friend's wife laughed, uncomfortably. The questions came in rapid succession. All from her daughter, while mine giggled. "Is that a boy? What is that? Is that where his pee comes from?" My friend's wife looked like she was taking a bullet with successive question. 
             Being the science student in the group, I decided to break the charged humour of the adults and answer so no one else would have to. "Yep," I said with some authority. Then I added at low mumble "and what a boy." The stranger next to me choke coughed and walked away slowly, avoiding eye contact. My friend's wife steered our chuckwagon out of the tent and back into the chaos of the kid's midway. We managed to avoid anatomical names or any further discussion.
             I looked back at Al, he gazed back. His work here was done and he neatly stowed away the object of our attention. I could've sworn that he winked. I turned to Wade and took his hand. As we walked back out to the midway I muttered something along the lines of "and that's how unrealistic expectations are made."
             Later the Budweiser Heavy Hitch made an appearance at the evening show. "DO YOU THINK AL IS DOWN THERE?" The girls were pointing and standing. All of the "adults" laughed a little too hard while quietly reflecting on the events of the earlier afternoon. 
             After the fireworks, we were walking from the train station to the car and our little cherub piped up with, a confident authority, "was that the horse's penis?" 
              "Yep, that was it," replied Wade. I smiled and silently hoped that she didn't expect human men to be as well endowed. Nothing more has been said on the subject.


Sunday, April 7, 2019

Horseradish



            I do love me some horseradish. Last night we (I) decided to go to the Keg to satisfy a red meat craving. After looking at Open Table and determining that the Stadium location was it, we were on our way. On arrival, we were promptly seated (because reservations rock) and we chose our various meals. My meal of choice: The Prime Rib Classic. It’s a perfect balance of meat and vegetables. But more importantly, horseradish.
            Some people eat lobster purely to eat the clarified butter (just me? No?). But I eat Prime Rib for the horseradish. The Keg has several locations throughout the city and not all locations are equal when it comes to their horseradish. Some are weak and I am able to heap it on like it’s a white paste of sadness in the hopes of some sort of tingle. Others, well. Let me go on.
            My Prime Rib arrived and I was delighted to see what looked like a freshly grated variety. None of that shit from a jar (I’m looking at you SaveOn). I took in the scene briefly then dug in. Since I have had past experiences that were lack luster, I opted to slather on a generous layer of the white gold. I skipped the formalities of giving it a sniff. Why delay the inevitable disappointment I fully expected?
            I chewed enthusiastically. The Prime Rib was perfection. Medium rare and juicy with a lovely red wine jus. The horseradish was the cherry on top.
            But what’s this? An entity has entered my mouth. Silently creeping up to my moderately congested sinuses. The vapour, neigh the chimera carried on its journey behind my entire face. A gentle caress turned into a rough hug followed by it moving through the entire Karma Sutra.  Internally I was suffering from the full effects. Externally. Well, I can only imagine I looked like a photo of the combination of a dog sneezing and trying to catch a handful of kibbles at the same time. Wade, being ever supportive in all of my endeavours regardless of stupidity, sat back and laughed at my suffering.
            I cried.
            I composed myself.
            I continued to eat, but with more caution.
            Near the end of his steak, he decided that I was just being overly dramatic. He reached across and procured a wad of the entity that had not just twenty minutes earlier had its way with the back of my face. His eyes never left mine as he spread it on a piece of his steak. He opened his mouth and placed the meat in. He chewed, still maintaining the eye contact of a groom on his wedding night. Beads of sweat began to bloom on his forehead. Still he did not flinch. I began to laugh as he began to crack. He suavely reached for his water.
            “It’s got a good little tingle.”
            We both laughed. But I know what the chimera was doing to his face.