Oh, yes, finally you get to see the fruits of my labor. Two horses, approaching thin, delighted to be digging into that puny round bale that I dragged out for them. I was a little concerned they wouldn’t like it, as happened once or twice before, but no such problem here. I think they probably need a little help getting rid of worms and botfly larvae, and they will be in fine shape for pasture horses. Next step will be to spend a weekend mowing.

Tomorrow is the big day we place our offer for the place in Chama that has no name; it’s on the other side of the mountain from all those bears I told you about; and then we will take the lid off the pickup and take our horse trailer to someone to check the bearings and what-not. By March I will be more caught up and ready to roll than I have ever been in my life, and it’s taken only 13 years of retirement to get there.

Tonight, super tired. At my age we are supposed to be just hanging out, consuming medical things (that would cost half as much in Europe) to enrich the corposystem, and just generally being pitiful so the do-gooders can think their doing good is worthwhile.

Wait! I thought we women were liberated! Didn’t we bother to liberate old people at the same time? Or do we women stop being liberated when we get old? I didn’t hear anything about that in the contract. I do remember being liberated, and now – well, we Americans will do ANYTHING to force someone else into the position of pitiful so we can feel good about saving them. (Helpful hint if you really are pitiful, there is someone waiting for you out there who wants to be better than you – all you have to do is – well, this is a family show).

I suppose my time will come when I actually qualify for that kind of help, and clearly the corposystem, and a whole lot of ordinary folk, are doing their very best to make me believe it already has, but they haven’t convinced me yet, and every time they give me a phony reason boosts my ego just that much. The latest is that, since I have a hearing loss, and damn I can’t wear that hearing aid because of my chemical sensitivity – therefore I am in danger of becoming senile and depressed. Just because the birds don’t sing as pretty as they used to sing. Nothing I could do to prevent that, of course, other than buy one of their hearing aids.

I do have to admit, though – after spending an hour hauling out that round bale and then another hour boosting the dryer into the pickup – my body really does HURT!

But it’s not a bad hurt.

Reminds me of the days when I could do anything I wanted to do.

2 Responses

  1. So the people could buy the place u had for sale?

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