In the Heat of the Night, the Horse Show and the Honeybucket

Future cowboys and cowgirls compete in lead line, with a little help from their moms. 

Coeur d'Alene's Kristy Jackson, five-time winner of the "Harold Tibbs- Toby I" belt buckle at the Spots of Fun Open Horse Show.   Holding the loot are show chair Moreen Leen and Moriha Yetter. 

Sig Brannan was staying cool in the shade with her Arabian gelding before riding in her first-ever horse show class.  Sig won a fourth place.  Congrats, Sig!

Another leadline contestant, lookin' good!

I feel like a new woman.  After reading Sandpoint’s Accu Weather forecast for this week and seeing that last week’s projected 101 degrees for midweek this week has been scaled down to a high of 91 and week of 80s, even a 79, I think I’ll be able to function.

Like many, I don’t do well with heat, and did we have a scorcher yesterday!

Early afternoon yesterday, after a second morning of blistering hot sun shining in my face up there in the announcer’s stand, I commented to ring steward Abigail Nelson that “this doesn’t seem as bad as yesterday.”

Since it was the last segment of the two-day show, I looked for easy sailing for the rest of the afternoon.  

And, that was after a morning of enjoying the relative comfort of a new form of coolant up there in the stand, along with my bottles of ice water.

On Saturday, my sister Barbara, who showed her horse in the morning and then went home, kept sending me texts:  Are you hot yet?

Well, of course, I was.

“You ought to get one of those fans at Wal-Mart that sprays mist in your face,” she wrote.

In my past experience with debilitating hot summer days, I’m aware that the rush to Wal-Mart to get a fan when the temperatures are torrid is futile.  Everyone else has already gone there and bought out the inventory.

Well, apparently Barbara knew something I didn’t know cuz yesterday she showed up at the grounds with a pretty blue, mist-spraying mini fan for me to use in the announcer’s stand.

Pretty neat, I’ll say.  So, I figured I was good to go for the rest of the afternoon, having made it through the morning intensity.

I was good to go until I had to go----to the honeybucket that is.  I had already set a personal record for a bathroom-frequenting 60-pluser.  Had used that honeybucket, which Moreen strategically has placed near the stairs leading to the announcer’s stand,  ONLY ONCE all day.

Around 3 p.m., though, I felt a slight need (not yet an urge), looked at the schedule of classes ahead and figured it would be good to take a quick break as opposed to having a bladder ready to explode by the time I reached the last “Walk, jog and lope” of the day.

So, I told Abigail over the two-way radio to walk really slowly toward the announcer’s stand with the results of the class just concluded in the arena.  I walked fast to the honeybucket.

My walk to the outdoor john was the only thing that happened quickly, though.

 

Step into a honeybucket on a 100-degree day and first add about 25 degrees to the temp inside the enclosure.  Then, imagine how easy it is to pull down your jeans which have been stuck to your sweaty body for several hours (Barbara’s mist fan was not applied to anything other than my face).

Then, imagine trying to pull up those jeans after sitting on the hot, plastic seat to go No. 1.  

And, then imagine my imagined fear that Abigail has already taken her slow walk to the announcer’s stand and has put the results card on the clothespin hanging on the nylon rope from the announcer’s stand. 

WE HAVE MOVED INTO THE 20^TH CENTURY IN HORSE SHOW LAND AT THE BONNER COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS BUT WE’VE A LONG WAY TO GO TO REACH 21^ST Century technology, so clothespins and nylon ropes have to do.

Anywho, back to the honeybucket, while trying to urge my jeans up my sweatier than ever legs, half the contents of my pocket, including a quarter fell to the floor.  Damn!  That much more to do to get out of here, I thought.  Maybe I’ll leave the quarter cuz pulling up these jeans is hard enough.

By the time I had them up around my waist, I was imagining all those hot riders out there in the arena and that hot judge out there, wondering, “When the Hell is that stupid lady gonna get out of that john and announce the results?"

Panic was setting in as I decided whether or not it was wise to take time to buckle my belt and lean down to pick up that quarter.  Sweat was also dripping profusely from my brow.

Eventually, I completed all honeybucket tasks and walked out the door.  Can you imagine how good that 100-degree air feels after walking out of a honeybucket!  Mighty good, I’ll tell you.

I wasted no time to stop and wash my hands at the portable sink.  Instead, I scurried, only to see that Abigail had just reached the clothespin.

Ah, I was safe from any further scorn for my announcing duties during this hot day.

Or so I thought.

We finished the show.  Kristy Jackson of Coeur d’Alene won my dad’s belt buckle award for the fifth time in ten years, and a lady named Holly Martin won the award honoring Mother.  We don’t know who she is because she had already left the show.

Anyway, I carefully organized my announcing stuff, loaded it in the car, which rivaled the honeybucket for heat, handed over horse show stuff to Moreen and headed home to shed those sticky jeans.

In the heat of the night when I was just about ready to go to sleep, I remembered something I had forgotten.

“Oh, God, if that announcing system in that locked announcer’s stand is left running for days, it may blow up and then I’ll be in really deep do-do for my lame job of announcing the horse show.

I had been pretty meticulous packing up stuff and putting things away in the afternoon, but I had FORGOTTEN TO TURN OFF THE ANNOUNCING SYSTEM.  I had NOT forgotten to lock the door, though.

“Bill, would you go with me to the fairgrounds so I can climb up the rodeo chutes and get into the announcer’s stand and turn off the system?”

My saintly husband almost happily agreed as I told him that I would have to climb up the chutes, so please bring a flashlight.

Just in case the cops came by and caught us breaking/climbing into the announcer’s stand to turn off the system, I called Moreeen, the show chair, for my alibi.

“You need Rebekah,” she said, adding, "Don't fall." 

Well, Rebekah, the very efficient awards chair for the show, had scaled those chutes yesterday morning---within seconds---and had climbed into the announcer’s stand just moments after we realized that the people the night before locked the keys inside the stand.

So, I had the experience of knowing my upcoming task could be done, even if it was being attempted by a 67-year-old rather than a recent high school graduate.

It took a little doing, and I charted a different, more circuitous course from Rebekah who went straight up the wall, so to speak.  And, I’m sure she did her ascent in record time, while I, as a senior citizen, took my time.

With Bill standing down below with his flashlight and ready to haul me to the hospital, lest I fall, I got partway up and then reached over the open window, grabbed a chair and climbed aboard it to make it to the top.

In no time, the sound system was switched off, the door to the stand was opened (so I could descend and easier way--on actual stairs---than I had ascended) and again locked.

No cops came to check on us. No alibi needed. 

Soon, we were driving home, and I could have used a Staples button to announce, “That was easy!”  I also slept a lot better because, by that time, riding in the air-conditioned car, my soppy, sweaty hair had actually dried out.

So, that’s a behind-the-scenes anecdote to a hot weekend at the horse show.  The show went well, as it always does with the Leen family organizing it, but I’m thinking there was nary a person there who could not get out of there fast enough to go home and shed those sweaty horse show clothes.

And, this morning with a little cool air, my fried brain from two days in that announcer’s stand, is feeling pretty good.

Happy Monday, and let’s hope those 100-degree days are history.