The Poor Little Mare and The Stallion With Over-Sized Genitalia

A couple of Sundays ago, while our friend Jen was in town ("Wild Jen"), a small group of us drove up and over San Marcos Pass and down into the Santa Ynez Valley and wine country. It's where the movie Sideways was filmed. Strikingly beautiful native California landscape with such a surreal quality to it. The hills and mountains are a brilliant green from the rains of Winter, while the wild flowers are blooming boasting their yellows, blues, purples and oranges.

We had a great time. We drank lots of wine and only rolled the car a handful of times. I love going wine tasting with friends, but some people always try to get so snooty over the whole damn thing; "What are the legs on the glass like? What's the viscosity and what kind of finish does it have? There's an oak finish, or an orange or apricot finish, or baby diaper" (seriously). Some taste like dirt. I appreciate the wine and the hard work that goes into it - it's the pretention of some of the people at the vineyards (owners, employees and visitors alike) that I don't quite cherish. So, when I think of the viscosity, I think of it meaning, how quickly does it drip down your face after I dump it on your head.

We once tried some wine at a place that should have been labeled Tight Sphincter and Pursed-Lipped Vineyards. "Please leave your personality at the door, because we do." I wanted to smack everyone in there...They were just so god-damn uptight. After trying the wine, I proclaimed, "This has a Chuckie finish. You know, that psycho-devil doll that goes around stabbing everyone? Yeah, that one...Well, that's what it reminds me of when I drink it. It stabbed the sides of my throat the whole way down. Am I bleeding?" I don't think that they found it too funny. Well, we did and that's all that matters.

Anyway, we really did have a nice time. We always do with that gang. We had the vino and strawberries, cheese and salami, that homemade Greek Easter bread that I burnt - but everyone said that they loved it. They were drunk, so I could've been feeding them hair-balls with mustard and they wouldn't have known the difference.

So, we arrived at this one winery that had really shitty wine, but a fantastic view out back, which most of them have. And they had a huge pond in the back and horses and rolling hills and California Oaks and I'm sure that Snow White and the Seven Dwarves were doing it in the bushes somewhere down there. Well, one of the poor mini-mares was doubled over in pain from a colic (severe abdominal pain caused by a spasm or obstruction). The poor little thing had gotten out of her pen and probably ate something poisonous.

I went and found someone, because there was no staff around. They seemed bothered that I even told them about it and said, "I'm sure she's alright." Where then I said, "One of your mini-mares is out of her pen, covered in piss and shit and lying on her back knocking her head against a fence post. She's not 'alright'." And I continued glaring with my best Donna Martin stare I could muster on the verge of pouncing and kicking teeth out. They buckled, they always do...idiots. They then looked at me like, "Okay, Donna Martin, whatever you say..."

I arrived back to see Will comforting the poor thing, the care takers eventually arrived and we gave our leave. We headed back up to the winery that over-looked the pond and the horse arena and pens and watched from up there. They walked the little mare back to her pen and led her in. While we were watching, some big burly machismo walked up beside us to witness what was happening with a few gum-snapping, extremely high-skirted, WAY too much make-up for wine tasting mares of his own. They asked their over-potent Stallion what was going on, what were they doing down there?

At this point, the mare was still stumbling, literally being held up by her mane. When she was led inside the paddock, she laid down reeling in pain on her back. Some of the other mini's came over and sniffed at their friend, knowing of course, that she was not well. They sniffed and walked away. Then the care takers ended up leading her back out again. To get over colic, they end up being "tubed" and given mineral oil that helps move the blockage down. Then the vet will end up putting her (or his) hand up the horse's rear to manually remove whatever is blocking the intestines. Until then, the horses are usually led around to help walk it off.

Well, Carlos Casanova didn't see it this way. He turned to his fillies without missing a beat and in all seriousness he says, "Yeah, what they was doin' there was introducin' a guy horse and you saw, he laid on his back so the girl horses could sniff his balls. After they sniffed his balls, they wasn't interested. So, they got him out of there. It just wasn't right." And they responded with a resounding, "OOhhh..."

No, what wasn't right was that those weren't balls, that would be a vagina. But really, it's all left up to one's interpretation after all. Will and I looked at one another and cracked a smile. And the guy walked away with his pack trotting behind him, tossing their manes in the air, teetering on their heels, he galloped a little too proud in his ignorance, leading them out to pasture, or at least back to the winery. I guess we all remember things a little differently.