More scrap 2(?)

I hate it when I got a lot to write about and no time or opportunity to do the mind-data dump. It makes me jumpy, keeping all these things in the air. So I think I’m going to do bullets, here, maybe. Maybe not.

• M comes home ONE YEAR FROM TODAY (wrote that on the 22nd). Until this day, I have not let anybody round off anything, like, “Shoot – it’s almost six months.” Because if it isn’t 6 months, but you say it is, by the time you get to the real 6 months, you’re disappointed – like, it should be MORE. But from now one, every day is a last one – today is the last June 22 I will wake up with my kid half way around the planet from me. Maybe. I hope.



• We don’t have Swine flu yet. I think. I’m almost sure. Yes, Geneva, I’m knocking on wood to ward off the jinx. Or West Nile. Pretty certain. Our mosquitoes evidently have it, but we don’t let them in. Except when they come in on the dogs, which is several times a day.



Hangin’ out in the hood.  In the evening, just before the West Nile Vectors come out in force, everybody’s out and hangin’.



Bikes, kids, lawn chairs in the street, grown-ups talking – here, we feature the fabulous striped pajama pants of Chaz.





Friends.  Like being tucked in to the world.

• It’s NOT RAINING. This is both good and bad. I love the temps we’ve been getting, and not having to worry about the pasture drying out. But the first cutting of hay is dead, which is a very bad thing. And it’s going to get hot, which I hate. Why do I live in a high desert valley, then? Good question.



More pink snow.  I think I did better giving you the idea with these.



• We think the horse trailer is fixed. This time. We found a couple of really tattooed, but really gentlemanly mechanics just around the block from us. Like, you could drop the trailer off and walk home. That’s almost like living in a city, huh, Gin? Now, if only we had a bakery that close. No. I take that back. Bad idea. And anyway, we’ve got Kathy for that.



The three of us – wait, I was there too – four of us, hitting Gardner Historical Village, which is just an excuse for buying really cool stuff . Disclaimer: Chaz’ blue streak (the one she’s wearing) is clip in, as opposed to the one she talks, which is permanent.

• The river is still between its banks. (Ditto on the wood and jinx thing.)
• 27th: G and Chaz and Geneva and I rode the canyon yesterday. It was GREAT. My littleZion had about half the energy and interest he usually does, so I’m worried he’s sick. But it was so beautiful.
• Someone explain to me why the first reaction to a couple of public deaths last week was a rash of really dark and ugly jokes? I don’t get it.
• We dog-sat this week, and not for the grand-dog. It was the first time ever a dog has slept on the foot of a bed in this house. But Julie is gloriously happily back at home now, and Chaz is feeling bereft. The Two Old Men have not noticed that Julie’s gone yet. Old dogs, old horses. We are the only species that will actually pay for the privilege of owning inevitable heartbreak.



He’s deaf now.  But still so beautiful.  And so sweet.

• We irrigate again at three tomorrow morning. Why does the rain time itself so that we have to skip the day turns, but have to do the night ones? (Is there actually somebody in charge of fate? And if there is, why do they choose somebody who is so dang in love with irony?) I HATE irrigation. I’m going to worry about it all day.
• Okay – stay away from Etsy. Or if you go there, don’t pounce. When you pounce, they just keep showing you all this really cool handmade stuff. And then you spend money. Bad. Bad. Or if you do go, look for Chaz- well, I’ll tell you about that later.



The Tale of the Recalcitrant Colt: a teenage archtype—

Me:  Hey, dude.  You shouldn’t be lying down in the grass.  You sick?  You okay?  Get up.  You gotta get up so I know you’re okay.  (push, push – trying to rock a tank)  Look, all we’re going to do is take some pictures.  DUDE!!  GET UP!!



Me: (pushing harder)

The ears: Yeah, I know you’re back there somewhere.  By the way, maybe you’ve noticed: I’m heavier now.



Me: (pant, pant).  Okay, how’m I gonna get you up, huh?  Look, you nearly wore me down. I wonder if I can hire a crane?

The ears: My face doesn’t know you’re there.  But I hear your pain.  LOL.



Me: You’re not paying any attention to me, are you?

Hickory: Did I hear a fly buzz?

Me: Yeah.  And if you read more poetry, you’d know what that means.



Me: (I start a series of lectures on obedience and personal responsibility.)

Him: (He’s GRAZING LYING DOWN.)

Me: Okay.  I’m giving you one more chance to show me how obedient you are.



Him: Let me know how that turns out.



Me:  Yeah.  Well, I’m still the mom.  Mother Nature.  That’s me.  Now, aren’t you glad you acted like a GOOD little pony?

Him: Sigh.

• So that’s all I got. If I had anything else, I’ve forgotten it. See what a political melt-down will do for you?