Animal Babies After Tony's Mom dies at ninety seven, he comes home. His Mom was the third oldest in Provincetown. Because of the brain disease, air travel makes Tony more wobbly but he manages. Kind of like a joke, I bought three day old anaconda chicks while he's gone. A week before our order of a dozen Banties arrived but the feed store held on to them an extra day. They are so weak. Four die. After the chicks come home, one more dies and then they start living. At night I cover the box up with fiber board. The heat lamp is clipped to the goat delivery pen. It frosts at night but the chicks keep living so I buy three more. The anacondas are like pillow puffs. The brown Banties commandeer the big yellow puffs. The Banties surround them and settle in. They peck at each other when week old Banties try to steal an Anaconda Puff. Then Cindy Lou goes into labor two weeks early and I am running. Cindy doesn't think she wants to walk to the delivery pen but she comes along slowly. All the other goats want to sniff her. When they can't see Cindy they start wailing. I take the big, plastic heat lamp from the chicks and twirl the blue cord, secure it, and clip it. I get an old metal heat lamp for the chicks and resecure that one. Keep one eye on Cindy. Run to get the green towel and the shot glass for Iodine. Run back and Cindy is licking off two babies. She is frantic. Grab the towel and help. Cindy licks me too until we all just stop and sit still and all the babies are going to be okay for right now. A week and Tony comes home. He is confused about the number of chicks but he's scared to say anything for a day in case he has the number wrong.

Last day of February: Guarantee me that no one told the patient she could crawl down the hall if she wanted her dinner. I need to know that didn't happen. Let's say she has Borderline Personality but maybe her back really did go out. "Pop" she said it felt like. But still, Probably "crawl down the hall" weren't the exact words that fell like pins out of someone's tight mouth. Twelve hour shifts, staff becomes a resevoire of irritation. My head aches this morning. I am angry and restless. I make the vegan strata with real milk. That will teach you! Chance of two inches snow accumulation. The weather swings back and forth. Tony, speak to me like an adult I say. How do two people learn to cooperate successfully in old age? I want to downgrade my responsibility. Okay, I just want a downgrade, any kind of downgrade! Tony buys five young goat does from Bob and Bernice. Here are the names: Lady Rose, Page, Sharon, Bunny, Honey.

Presidents Day

One more time I send an application to Harborview but they will not call me and I am filled with February despair. When I come to the house Tony says again: There is nothing I can do. Of course that is not true. John sells Christmas trees in the winter. He has set up a lot and parks his van. Tony pulls the guy who delivers newspapers by car out of the ditch this winter. There are things. So much is now for me to figure out, come up with the ideas, the motivation, the positive attitude and, make the money. When I sit still I can picture Provincetown, Tony's male family sitting around the kitchen table smoking cigarettes and bitching. I can see his sisters with waist long black hair, standing, oooking, washing and escaping to the tourist motels to do the washing cleaning. The men sit because all they can do is fish and if the fishing isn't good they are off the hook. But I did not ever live in Provincetown. And I have been through this once before. The kids' father: If I don't have the money then I can't send you the money. And me saying: you expect me to come up with the money no matter what! I remember loosing the house. And I do not want to be in that place again and Tony is not that person. So, I start talking. Tony is going to go up the road this morning and talk to Bernice, ask about a few more does. I am telling Tony that I want him to be so busy that he has to say: Penny, I can't do it all, help me out. Then, I can say I'm not going to the big city hospitals to try to find a job. Then, I can just say, I live here. This evening is the first hot-tub of the season!

Working seven p.m. until seven a.m. When the kids were little I used to pick up donuts Sunday morning on the way home from work. I worked every weekend to be home during school days more but really, Morgan and Gus were on their own too much of the time. Now, with the psych unit closing in eleven months, nurses' work schedules are heaved and tossed around. This month I am working nights. I am half here: a ghost. My life is focused on awake or asleep. It simplifies everything. I sit down in one place. I pace myself. Tony and I celebrate Valentines on the next free day. But, first I get up at two in the afternoon with sun pouring in the bedroom and classical music playing in the kitchen. There is no wind. Tony helps me brush the horses and I ride both. It is Kansas best time of day, tea time, but Beau does not like his schedule thrown off. I am exhausted. Tony cooks steaks outside and I bake a chocolate weight watchers desert and make a big salad. We listen to the violin on the tiny player and eat with the single candle that drips down the wine bottle and Tony coddles the wax. I say I love you Tony and he makes a joke. No, no, it is time to be genuine. Tony smiles and looks down. I say, you know I can't do this without you don't you? He says he knows. I say you will get more handicapped as time goes by but we will just have to make adjustments. Tony says he thinks that will be the key, being able to make adjustments. The steak tastes really good. Tuesday the forecast calls for snow.

It's like swimming in the dark. Why, you ask. Always doing something I don't know how to do. Something with working night shift all of a sudden. Twelve hour nights. It draws calcium out of my bones. I become brittle. And there is the writing. Marketing. Reading. Open Mike, I as?. It is twenty years since I did an open mike, a poetry slam. Then I could rely on my looks at least. Now, not so much. Maybe I could puff the gray hair out and wear dark colors but that only goes so far. Five minutes the descriptions say. So, I get up on stage and say: I am reading from my book "Memories of a Female Trucker." Five minutes, and I can always read in one breath. I am sure I can still do that. There are no cigarettes in bars these days. I will miss the cigarettes. So, if I can get myself to drive to Seattle and do the open mikes, and if I acknowledge that I am loosing my job as a psychiatric nurse in one year and no one wants to even call me for an interview anymore, then I can move ahead to the horses. My mare is lying outside in the wind. She is lying on grass that is barely sprouting through the clods of dirt. There are patches of snow in the shadows. My mare has her green blanket on. She is fifteen. She would like a baby, yes, positively, she says. It is expensive. It is risky as are all pregnancies. Babies come at great cost. Small horses have boundless energy and razor sharp hooves. I have an email today: yes, O'donnell is standing at stud in Port Orchard. That is what it is called: Standing at Stud. The thought holds so much promise. The thought is like a pledge of faith that this life is worth continuing. In the free moments, Tony and I clear the dresser and plant rows of Walla Walla Sweet Onions and cover with chicken wire to keep the cat off. The neighbors will come to dinner tonight. I have the pie crust waiting in the refrigerator. This is something that I know how to do.

List of some things: February 2012: Kansas breaks spine on her shoulder with 6 pocket abscess down to the bone. We go back and forth over the Pass to Pilchuck Equine Hospital. We do wound care for months but she recovers. Tony is diagnosed with MJD, an inherited, degenerative brain disease. Evacuation for the Taylor Bridge Fire that passes on 3 sides of us. Evacuation for the Table Mountain Fire. Beau gets tangled in barbed wire and we are doing wound care for months and Beau recovers. The hospital announces that the psychiatric until will close at the end of 2013. It is February again. It is a fine balance between renewal and discouragement. The scale has not tipped yet. What I do know is that we planted two more fruit trees last fall during the second fire. I bought $150 of vegetable seed last month. Both horses are healthy. Four goats are bred. One foot in front of the other...