I turned forty this month, and for my birthday I wanted ponies to show up at my house bedecked and bedazzled for the sole purpose of being petted, brushed, and showered with affection. The My Little Pony franchise and I go way back. Colorful pastel ponies with fabulous hair are a touchstone to my inner child. So are Berenstain Bear books that taught me that ponies could show up at birthday parties though results may vary. On my fifth birthday, my lifelong friend Hillary gave me a yellow pegasus MLP. On my fortieth birthday she sent me cookies. She knows me well, and I feel so lucky to be friends. John de Lancie is the voice of Discord on MLP: Friendship Is Magic and his character becomes BFFs with Fluttershy, the yellow pegasus pony. All sure signs that ponies, yellow pegasus and otherwise, can and do lead to deep and lasting friendship with the coolest people.
Being forty has meant multiple mammograms and learning that “super dense” breast tissue doesn’t mean anything fun and can coexist in saggy/flaccid mammary glands. It’s also meant weekly pelvic floor physical therapy where practitioners kindly tell me that cranky joints are the territory that comes with the wear and tear of forty years of living. I didn’t have a melt down in my car or anything after. I have tried to bargain my way through feeling like my value to society, along with my youth, beauty, and visibility, has hit its expiration date. I have also really struggled with wanting or seeing the purpose of being on social media, where youth and/or beauty appear to my crows-feet-lined eyes to be the price of admission. Does anyone even want to read books from a 40-year-old woman, particularly if she isn’t a pillar of success?
At the beginning of the new year, my kiddos’ doc suggested we find some volunteer opportunities for them as a way of building confidence and gaining experience that could down the road lead to further opportunities. I’ve called many local organizations that do good. I’ve talked with my teens about what might be a good fit, and finding volunteer opportunities for them has been trickier than I anticipated. Lots of the usual suspects in our community are full or do not have a teen program. One Saturday, as I’ve been chipping away at this problem, I drove past a horse barn near my house with a big banner that said “Volunteers Needed!” Turns out this barn has a therapeutic riding center that needs an abundance of volunteers to fill a wide variety roles, including grooming, for their many horses and “one very naughty pony.”
I have limited horse experience. I took horseback riding lessons one happy summer when I was nine. My children have no horse experience. Some of the volunteer opportunities sounded a little intense–grooming, tacking, and leading horses during classes. I’ve never picked a horse’s hooves before. How heavy are saddles? Would my teens (with their spaghetti arms) even be able to lift one? I decided to scope out the organization first.
And oh my. Such pretty horses. One of them prances/dances for carrots. I don’t want to ride any of them, but pick me!!! for brushing, braiding, curry combing, and telling all these hardworking horses and people who teach/volunteer/ride what exceptional work they are doing. And if I ever get to the point where edible glitter and flowers are permissible, watch out!
Unfortunately, horses are weary of this level of enthusiasm and appreciation. “What is her deal? Why can’t she just chill? She’s weirding me out!” The last time I was at the barn, Chance the horse, kept side-stepping away from me. A little gutting since the week before he decided to nose up to me in the pasture all on his own accord wanting to be friends. I thought we were on our way to flowers and glitter and pony spa days. I’ve already pinned videos of how to paint hooves with glitter.
I need somewhere to put my enthusiasm. Also somewhere to put some of my anxiety. AI has me spooked. Turning 40 has me spooked. Teaching my eldest have to drive is very spooky indeed. Maybe I could help in the admin side of the business until the horses aren’t scared of me? As I was ruminating on my prospects, my Aunt Grace, who just became a PATH Int. certified TR instructor, mentioned a fundraising effort for her barn. They want to be able to have a hoedown. Did anyone know how to fundraise for such a purpose? I sent my aunt an email with more questions and learned that all the usual tricks had been deployed. This was a tougher nut to crack than I thought. Which peeked my curiosity.
So I took a fundraising course from UC Davis last week on Coursera, and learned a few things. Quite a few things that I’m hoping I get to put to good use should my local TR barn need help on their development team. And for the first time in a long time, I thought maybe my passion for ponies combined with my love of handwritten thank you notes, storytelling, and data could be put to good use. You know… While my horse sense is slowly developing.
So, I’m plotting. I’m drinking a lot of bitter hot chocolate. I’m learning a whole lot more about the world of 501(c)(3)s, and in the mean time I’ve painted my daughter’s bedroom, read a couple of books, cooked a whole lot of healthy food, made progress on all my doctor appointments and labs, celebrated that milestone birthday with Mr. Trent at Nocturne, pet some horses and ponies, found a trio of viable volunteer opportunities for my teens, ate Colorado Mountain Pie for the first time, I met with my critique group and shared the first two chapters of some new books I’m writing, and “proofread” the audiobook of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay. January has been great, but I’m very glad I’m not turning 40 again in February.
(Flower crowns and glitter. Can you imagine?)