Sunny days like yesterday are such that one can’t envision rain. But indeed, it has been raining here all day. It’s a cold rain, not worth hanging out in. And definitely not worth horseback riding in. In fact, the horses are now hanging out in their respective shelter areas, dry and happy because they all have hay.

Tyra’s eye is just a little better. Of course, I am anxious about it – I was told in the past, by veterinarians, always call when you suspect something is amiss when you are dealing with eyes because it could be serious. We are keeping in touch with Zach, our veterinarian, but the mares’

spring check up is eight days away, on May 21. I’m not doing as well as I’d like remembering dates. Pete made me feel better, saying that in part this is because I don’t have office space. This is true. I have no central place to put information, so bits and pieces of paper with notes and phone numbers are scattered here and there.

Today I worked on fundraising with the BLBP president-to-be. I also gave her feedback on tomorrow’s BLBP agenda. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that this project has, like Frankenstein, acquired a life of its own, with a board of directors, and a near-constant stream of volunteers and well wishers.

Speaking of which, today, Joshua, a program manager for the Rasmuson Foundation, came and visited, bringing two young co-workers. As I said after, to Pete, it could not have gone better. I gave them all the tour, stopping to tell project stories. The place looked good, and the back-and-forth talk was easy, relaxed, and informative. Pete was the backup person – I first talked to Josh and he talked to the co-workers, then we changed places. This time, we provided different information, or at least this is what I’m thinking.

It's tricky, being in two places at once. I haven’t yet mastered the knack, but I’m on to it. It involves being in one place and keeping your eye on another. You aren’t in the second place physically, but you are mentally.

The Book – this is now always on my mind, meaning that as I’m doing other things that I’m working on it. It’s best, I think, to have too much rather than too little information. When you have too little you have to make things up. And if you are writing nonfiction, this could be a problem.

I do have too much information. I at times want to throw my hands up and say, “A lot has happened,” but then this would not go over well with serious readers. Maybe Shelf Life should take the form of a journal – and the first page should read “A Lot has happened. . .” Then people could write their own books.

And maybe I should have Shelf Life swag, for example, give away moldy, torn, and dirty books, and tell people that in taking on this book, they will be pleasantly surprised.

Maybe. There are a lot of maybes.

Next: 31. 5/13/25: It’s 11p.m. Do you know where your kids are?