I’ve been working on stamina with my horse, Buzz. Like most Quarter Horses, he’s built for explosive speed over short distances, followed by a distilled, lengthy sense of easy-going-ness. He
I was in a flash nonfiction contest recently, and we had to incorporate the sentence: “It wasn’t a crisis yet” into our essay. What a loaded premonition. It’s gotten me
Yesterday my horse got pretty upset. He showed his displeasure with a couple of impressive runs around the pasture, flattening out his back and pounding his hooves like the well-built
I’ve been reading this every day for the last week: “So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and
Yesterday, as I was making plans with someone for the fall, she said to me, “You must be over the moon about your baby boy.” I stammered a lame response.
I’ve been thinking about doing right and feeling good. Yesterday, Adam said to me that it doesn’t feel good, but you know it’s right. He was right, too, of course.