1. Its been a crazy week at work; the kind that leaves you exhausted at the end of the day and barely able to function. I do the evening chores, make something for dinner (grilled cheese anyone?), and collapse in bed. Brett was convinced that I was angry with him all week. I promised that once the work project was completed, I would be a nicer person. We finished it up Friday afternoon. That elephant is no longer riding on my shoulders.
2. We didn't have grilled cheese every night. I did cook a couple of evenings. One of my "go to" quick weeknight dinner: California clam bake -- clams, corn and linguine.
3. I finally had a chance to ride Lucy this morning. In June and July, I was averaging four rides on her per week. August has been one, maybe two. Weekends only. Between the shortened days and Brett's surgery, I just can't ride during the week anymore. This morning I rode Lucy mid-morning after hitting the farmers market. It was hot and the flies were out. Lucy is in heat and pooped four times at the tie rail -- in the 15 minutes it took me to groom and saddle her. She pooped again in the arena. I grabbed my fecal collection vial and took a sample (light load so I'll worm her). The flies were biting when we started so she was very distracted, twitchy, and hoppy. We moved into trot to escape the flies and she settled. It was a short ride, we're not in the best of shape and the sun was beating down. Afterwards, I doused her thoroughly in fly repellent (we use a repellent, not an insecticide) and turned her back out in the pasture with Pistol. The two of them stood together under the trees most of the day.
4. Even though the days are hot, autumn is coming. I feel it in the cool -- almost cold -- nights; in the afternoon breeze; in the acorns starting to fall; and the woodpeckers pounding on the house siding. At the farmers market, apples and pears are mingling with the last of the peaches and plums.
5. Brett continues to gather strength and heal. The staples were removed from his suture yesterday. He still spends most of the day with his knee elevated and the ice machine plugging away. We go through a ten pound bag of ice every day. Brett comes outside with me in the mornings to help with chores. He feeds the dog, the goats and gives hay to the horses. Then he walks down the driveway, out the front gate, to the mailbox where he picks up the paper. By the time I get home in the evening, he's tired and sore. But he is making progress. The biggest hindrances are swelling and stamina. I remind him that it took months to come back last time but, well, he's impatient. There's a song that plays over and over in my head, watching him: the Village People "macho, macho man; I want to be a macho man" -- sing with me! You know the words.