Every morning, I clean the horse pen. When it’s done in the winter it looks like a white sheet of paper. Every evening, I face the computer screen, and the supposed white page, and I dole out the poopies, little letters. When I am done, I send the page on to Pete who posts the pages and a photo on my website.

In between doing these things, I think about what I’d like to be working on. This is because I don’t have the time to write. I really do not.

This morning, I spent time with my friend Cathy, and we matted images from books. I had a lot of Dr. Seuss books, and she brought in some older Ray Troll books. We had a wonderful time, cutting the illustrations into sizes that fit the matts, and then gluing them in place. Now I am also doing this. I am not the artist that Cathy is, never was, never will be. But it doesn’t matter.

This afternoon I cleaned children’s books. I pulled forth three books in a row and was blown away by the artistry and the content.

One book was about a little boy and his father, who live in an airport. They are homeless. The wife/mother died, and they do not have enough money to move into an apartment. The pair has figured out how to go about their business undetected. The boy, at one point, sees a bird trapped inside the airport and watches as it escapes to freedom. This is what he envisions for himself and his father. A strangely moving book.

I also read a book about a koala bear whose mother loves him and cheers him on when he enters the tree climbing portion of the animal Olympics. He comes in second and is visibly upset. His mother tells him that she still loves him, and this makes him feel better. My take on this is that this has everything to do with doing your personal best. I am going to give this book to the woman who didn’t want her granddaughter to be competing against men who identify as women.

I also went to Pete’s final grant writing class and again attempted to raise the bar. I talked about how I revised my draft of my grant for the Palmer Community Foundation, this after getting feedback from my three classmates. I also talked about how it’s an example of personal/academic writing.

We’ll see now if I get the grant. I think I will. If I don’t, I will purchase a tricycle bicycle with my own money (I have no money, I will steal a shopping cart) and leave town. I will put my sleeping bag and my tent and my tin cup in it and begin the long walk. There will be no sense remaining here because everyone in town will know when they see me walking down the main street and think, “she couldn’t write a grant to save her life.”

I will of course take a package of lifesavers with me.

Next: 87. 3/29/24: Why?