In which there are cuss words, a scrambled Egg, and some much-needed self care

I'm not gonna reproduce all the cuss words I threw at the truck this weekend.

Suffice to say: it wouldn't start on Friday, and I really wanted it to start.

Assistant Mechanic Foxie Loxie, on-hand to help with truck repairs in the rain

Self-care is especially important for me this time of year.  I spend many hours each week out in the public schools, doing booktalks and presentations for students about the library summer reading program.  That doesn't sound like hard work, but the emotional drain is real.  I come home in the evenings and take a nap, and then go to bed early so I can do it all again the next day.  

The library itself has not been stress-free recently, either.

We are, apparently, under a bad technology moon.

So, self-care.  Most of mine centers around the Dragon.  She's finally cleared to go out on trails away from home, and we can start expanding our saddle time.  The time I spend doing this is time I need for recharging--more important than naps, even.

Except that the truck wouldn't start.  And Jim was three counties away, attending a weekend-long Santa storytelling workshop.

Santa Jim with Santa True, who stayed here at Haiku Farm for a few days.  

It was Santa True who suggested that Jim could guide a temporary fix on the truck via video chat...which led to two hours of Monica and me crawling around inside the engine of the truck, in the pouring rain, pointing the phone at various parts so Jim could see and direct us.  

We did get it to run (temporarily).  But see above re: pouring rain, so I didn't ride on Friday.

On Saturday, this happened.

Scrambled Egg

Mom and I were heading out to take Fox for a quick walk at a nearby trailhead, when two cars collided in front of us, and one of them careened into us.  

I am fine.  Mom is fine.  Foxie is fine.  

Dr. Patty pronounced the little dog "weird but fine." 
She prescribed a cup of tea...for me.  Because tea helps everything.

The Egg is not fine.

So much for a "quick walk so I can zoom home and ride."   Gahh.  The insurance agent and I are still (3 days later) playing phone tag.  

The bright spot is that, because the accident happened in my hometown, one of the responding police officers is a guy I babysat back when I was in college and he was barely housebroken.

Officer Elmendorf was a lot shorter back in those days.

That was...a few years ago.  By my math, Ty is almost 40 years old now, with a wife, daughter, and four horses of his own.

But what about riding?  Yes, it finally happened.

Plus a visit to Fish Creek to snuggle the baby,

His registered name will be "FCF Rock Steady".  

Right now we just call him "the Baby."

and the other things that help with self-care: 

Usual Suspects...and ice cream

The truck is non-functional again, and I'm working my tailfeathers off this week.  It's gonna be another tough one.   But having done this

Real live sunshine, too! 

I can do all the other stuff.