June 11, 2011, 3/4 moon

After the grandsons. After our first bath together in the hot tub, I come out by myself. It would be dark except the moon. It is a three quarter moon. The moon coats a film across the water. Themoon coats me in the water. There are three stars but the first one is the one I wish on: to be a good rider. I want to be a good rider.
Nineteen year old Beau is caught in his fly-head-tossing thing. Maybe Tootie is right: An evansion and a half. But the answer is not to push him through so fast that he strains a tendon. No, at work on the psych unit, we used to say, you can't take something away without giving something to replace it. Beau has been doing the fly-head-toss for years. What can I give him in return. Riding I watch his head, I watch his hears. His head comes up, I wiggle my fingers, his head goes down I gently lift it up. He strikes out with his leg, I try to catch the instant and push him on. Go out Beau. Go out into my hands. Go with me.
I very well may be completely wrong.

June 5, Trail-ride game

Work as charge nurse four evenings in a row. Bring Ms Rue, Warrior Cat down to the barn. We will both be working later tonight.
The hot tub only cools down from the night before to ninty degrees. Saturday and Sunday noon, I climb in, float for twenty minutes before the hour drive to the hospital. I believe I am bursting with health.
Sunday after report, I am bursting with diahrea. I beeline for the bathroom every half an hour. The other RN I'm working with says: so you got it too. Then she talks about wanting to go home early. I get home Sunday night, pull myself up into the tack-room, loft bed. Ms Rue, Warrior Cat greets me. Every night I hear mice squeak before she bites their heads off. She leaves the bodies for me.

Between my stomach and my mistakes, ill-at-work-Sunday, I do not go in Monday. I call in sick. I sit on haybales and talk to Robyn, the farrier. She says they are giving horses B complex for anxiety. I used to get weekly B12 injections forty five years ago from my psychiatrist. I do not mean to tell her this. In this new place, I want to fit in.

Tueday there is enough of me stored up to get on my horse. I tell her we will just go easy. The wind tries to yank the helmet off my head. The wind blows hair in my eyes. Half an hour I see Tony and both border collies going down the driveway in the ATV. If I yell: close the gate, he will not hear me. I start riding after him. Kansas ears pick forward. She gives a few jog steps. We keep a distance but then the distance is growing. We trot a minute over the gravel, catching up. Slow down to a walk not to get too close to the machine. The machine is getting away from us. We trot. Kansas starts to look interested. We are stalking the ATV. It is our first trail-ride-game of our entire lives.