December 14, 2008


it was the kind of morning where you might need to manually peel your eyeballs open, manually scrape yourself from the warm nest of blankets. outside it was cold and drippy, rain turning to sleet, and the wind making it all blow sharp and sideways. I dreamed there were 6 inches of perfect, crunchy, snowball-fight snow on the ground. my legs were so sore from thursday's impromptu six-mile run up to council crest that I almost couldn't walk from my bed to the bathroom. the living room was grey.

at the barn I wore six shirts to stay warm. the other stall cleaners were either sick or laid off, and the barn owner had pneumonia. I thought it would be awful, long and tiring, but in the end everyone who was there pulled together to chip in and work. I hauled bags of grain and pellets, drove the truck, mucked stalls. it was also the first day of feeling a glimmer of excitement underneath my terror at owning a horse. it helps that everyone at the barn already knows the news, and no one hesitates to congratulate me or express their excitement. it also helps that everybody loves my horse.

now you will have to imagine my lovely little christmas tree, and the jars of homemade cinnamon candy, frosted in powdered sugar, that adorn my table, and the balls of hand-wound yarn, and the scarf I just finished knitting. I would show them to you, but my camera fried itself last week.

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