Fragments, Part (whatever)…

1.

And I thought about you as I sat to gather my thoughts.

Come here, little thoughts, we’ve got people coming to check on you from time to time.

But you’ve been a bad little collection of thoughts, so easily distracted and willing to venture down paths that lead to: Nowhere.

Again.

2.

I’m on the side of the little man in the late-night talk show wars. Yeah, the one getting $42 million to walk away. Fight the man!

3.

Yesterday we traded homeschooling for truckschooling, and off we went. To farms, mostly, to gather the material needed to continue the notion that we like farms.

At the dairy and beef farm, we gathered beef from a nice French Canadian man who’s family jumped the border a generation ago and they continue the dream in smaller parcels today (“if a kid wanted a farm, my dad and granddad gave ‘em the land they needed to farm”). And farm tidily, I might add. We got the whole tour – from the automated back-scratcher (for the cows, not us), to the milking parlor, and to the giant freezers marked “meat.”

And so, with a box of meat in tow, off we went to the horse farm.

The lady limped out of her house to greet us.

“Rule number one,” I explained to my daughter (because, as we’ve discussed before, every moment is a homeschool moment), “do not ask about riding lessons from someone in a cast.”

“Duh,” replied Bel, our sarcastically-astute daughter. It was, as I realized later, a chilling and mostly accurate retort I heard for much of the day (But, honey, you’re not officially a teen until August! Good luck with that.).

We were in pursuit of a children’s saddle that would fit Bel’s increasingly-chunky Quarter Horse. Mission accomplished. Because the lady in a cast was apparently learning her lesson about being around horses and willing to part with any and all of her horse equipment – and cheaply.

She reached for the saddle we were most interested in – a classic, circa 1970’s, full of real leather, Simco saddle – with flower pleats! But her hand was chewed up, an indent that was masquerading as a future scar quickly made itself known as she reached for the saddle.

“Ouch,” I said. “Horse bite?”

“Yes,” she returned. “And an infection and an abscess and weeks of antibiotics.”

Cool. Gotta love horses.

I made her an offer for the Simco. Not surprisingly, she accepted – cast, scar and all.

“Wear a helmet,” she said to Bel as we loaded the saddle into the truck.

“Ya think?” I thought, as I limped back to the truck.

P.S. We would like to thank the cow for its extensive contributions to our farm visits yesterday.

4.

Fucking Democrats.

And that’s all I care to say about that right now.

5.

Well, other than this: Why do the Democrats think a response from a series of election failures based on their wimpiness and ineffectiveness should be remedied by more wimpiness and ineffectiveness?

Just wondering.

6.

I do believe they call that bright thing in the sky, “The Sun.” It has just poked me on my shoulder, apparently knowing that I need it.

7.

Fetch me my horse. And you, yours.

8.

Hello woods.