Poptarts: not just for breakfast anymore

Next, please.

What did my sister mean when she told you guys “no poptarts in the car”?, I ask my two nieces. They’ve handed me a huge bag filled with various and sundry snack items. Goldfish crackers, fig newtons, cheez-its and other major food groups. So what’s the deal with poptarts, I gotta wonder.

My query is answered by a robust giggle explosion. Oh, I see. The phrase pops into my head “dry as a popcorn fart.”  I’ve driven enough cub scouts around town over the years to know to keep the windows cracked (we’re cold, Mrs. Sword) and today I get the nagging feeling this two hour drive to the Kentucky Horse Park is gonna seem a bit longer than perhaps it should.

But I have to know. So, how did this get biological phenomena get the name of poptarts, I ask the girls. Amid more giggles and snorts, they tell me. In unison and I think another language. I get none of the back story. But the essence is there. Ah, but hopefully not literally.

And so begins our annual Kentucky Horse Park trip with the nieces. The trunk is full to bursting with the essentials of an overnight trip with two young ladies and an older chick, plus one yellow dog. Yaxley joins us for the adventure, his last big road trip before turn in to CCI next month.

Yax went with us last year as well and we shared some of our stories at Freshly Baked Road Apples. As I read this post from last summer, I see I made mention of Yaxley’s problem of dog issued poptarts in the car. So we have a running theme here, I guess. Yep, envy me y’all.

I kept an eye on the weather reports for this weekend. I wanted to bring Yax along for more exposure to crowds and novel items, but not if it were to be paw searingly hot. But reasonable temps in the Lexington forecast, just a threat of a thunderstorm or two. I have no worries about thunderstorms and this dog; he’s absolutely solid there. I got caught in a particularly nasty storm while driving a couple of months ago with Yaxley and Micron in the car. I pulled into a parking lot to wait it out.  Just in time, too. A thunderclap hit so intense it shook our car and set off the car alarm in the vehicle next to us. The two dogs were laying in the backseat calmly wondering when dinner was going to be. Nice. I’ve had storm anxious dogs before and this is a welcome break from that drooling drama.

I’ve stopped telling people ahead of time that I’m taking the nieces to Breyerfest in Kentucky because it sounds too much like a hillbilly family reunion. (A briarfest, huh? Y’all got a big family to have a whole festival.) But it’s really a pretty prestigious event. Over the years, I’ve patted the velvet noses of such celebrities as the Hidalgo the movie horse, and William Shatner’s All Glory. Some great shows in the covered arena and full access to the horse park.

It’s a bonus to have Yaxley with us again this summer. With his CCI logo cape on, he is a rock star as we walk around, eclipsing some of the guest horses with his canine mini-celebritydom.

While the nieces take a few minutes to paint some horse models, Yaxley builds up his fan base.

Instead of watching paint dry, we set aside our tiny masterpieces and head off to find some novel objects for Yaxley to experience. We make our way to the petting zoo and are greeted by a welcoming committee. So what kind of welcome do you get when you bring a pooch into a petting zoo?

Not necessarily a warm one.

B-a-a-a-d dog.

This doesn’t seem to bother Yaxley awful much. He’s a little busy trying to get his head around the huge tortoise lumbering his way.

Ok, the thing is not a threat, per se and all.  But it does fit into the “that ain’t right” category of the dog noggin. If you can’t play with it, sleep on it, chew on it or eat it, then what use is it anyway?

The Museum of the Horse is a favorite on our list for the annual tour, as well. Because it’s blessedly air conditioned and pleasant way to wait out a thunderstorm. Oh, by the way, you know how when you get flip flops wet they make that weird, wet squeaking noise when you walk? And if you call them poptart flops it can cause young girls to nearly need a change in shorts?

The museum volunteer welcomes our pup-in-training and we stroll on through. Folk we met earlier in the park greet Yaxley by name as we meet again. We begin to feel like entourage to the dog. We’re not asked our names. Ever. Roadies don’t need names, you know.

We stop for a photo op with a horse skeleton. A pretty novel object to check off the socialization list. You’re welcome, CCI.

Before and After of the racehorse, Lexington.

 [We pause our story here for an Awww moment.]

And we’re back.  Ok, so last year we took basically the same shot below. Except I lifted Yaxley into the chair with the girls. Ain’t happening this year. He’s safe on the ground and my back is still intact.

The theme this year at Breyerfest was British Invasion. Which brings to mind such things as the Revolutionary War or perhaps even The Beatles. But when you think of the British Isles and horses, don’t you make the natural connection of jousting competitions?

No? Well someone did.  Here we have a couple of brave knights decompressing after rugged swordplay and thrusting about lances at each other.  My attempt to get a nice shot of a Sir Knight and his noble steed went terribly awry.

You know, I think there’s a poptart joke in here somewhere.

Just four more weeks on the Yaxley countdown, folks. We have a few more adventures to fit in between now and then. Check back with us to see what’s next.