This is the word that Pete and I use to describe good days, which are days when neither of us get bitten, stomped, kicked, or knocked over by our equine friends. This term is also used to describe days in which the same doesn’t happen to the chickens, dogs, or goats. Eventful days are rare, but frequent enough in that we relish their counterpart.

Right now Pete’s in CA visiting family. I have (again) been left behind in order to keep the literal and figurative fires burning. Pete left on Thursday. It’s now Saturday; so far, so good. I am getting a bit tired of being Jenna’s exclusive service human. Any time I’m out of sight, she resumes her drippy tap bark. I am working hard at making this a lesson in mindfulness, by keeping in mind that I can’t go anywhere, or do anything unless she is accounted for. Otherwise, she will remind me of this. Pete will get home late Monday night. Then, and only then, I’ll breathe a sigh of relief.

Today I worked on Lessons Learned until 12:30 p.m. At 12:29 p.m. I hit an impasse of sorts. I must now decide on whether or not to keep the sidebars as they are, or to integrate this already existent how-to information into my narrative. In a short bit, I’ll print up the first five chapters. Seeing the 20 or so pages in print will better enable me to make this decision. I’m leaning towards melding the how-to information into my narrative. This will still support my premise that older returning riders (those like me) often know things that others are unaware of. In my case, my knowledge is horse and riding based.

Integrating the how-to stuff into the narrative will change this book’s thematic shape. This means more work for me, but this may end up being work that’s well worth it.

My first audience, of course, is me. I write to find out what I do and don’t know. And my second audience is those I know personally – which are those who think that because I’m not a good rider (as indicated by the fact that I haven’t had more than one summer of arena lessons) that I’m riding-wise, a total washout. Say it ain’t so, Joe! I think these people will read this book and discover that this returning rider knows more than they thought. My third audience is other returning riders, or those who are inclined to feel as though they’re up against the same wall as I am.

At 12:40 p.m. I went out and worked with the ponies. I first rode Tinni on the lower and new trails. I only rode a part of the latter because I missed the turn. Tinni, who knew that I was confused, decided that we should head back. Since he outweighs me by 700 or so pounds, I let him have his way. It was a tad bit nippy out, but otherwise riding conditions were ideal. I next took Raudi on Pat and Ray’s trail. Ryder came with. This was an easy and uncomplicated ride.

I next got Hrimmi out. We went (together, solo) for a long walk around the neighborhood loop, and then we did the lower trail. Hrimmi was a bit mouthy at first, but not enough to slow us down. She was, in fact, quite agreeable. I would not have been able to do with Raudi what I’m doing with Hrimmi because Raudi used to get away from me. As I walked the two year old, I was reminded of Signy – it’s looking like Hrimmi is going to be an equally good riding horse/trail companion.

I came inside after I was done with the ponies. It’s now 6:04 p.m., and it’s quite dark out. In fact, it’s now been dark for two hours. Like I said previously, the trick is to now get out early enough so that I have enough time to spend with all the animals. So far, so good.

Tomorrow I’m planning on again doing what I did today. So, if this comes to be, I will just again repost this dispatch with the title “same old same old.” We’ll see. Change is a constant. It can occur in the blink of an eye.

Next: 306. 11/17/14: The Writing Life: A Grim Day