Yesterday we floated everyone’s teeth. So I’m a dentist now. And it sure is annoying when the patient bites down on your tool. In order to have them keep their mouth open you reach in and pull out their tongue, which is a whole thing in itself – trying to grab a slippery slimy squishy thing that won’t stop flailing around… while being absolutely sure not to get your fingers between the teeth. They all fussed some but did alright. Except Sugar. She would rear up and kick when Eric tried grabbing her tongue, so he went to get the lassos to tie her down. Meanwhile I had a talk with her and we tried again… and this time we got half her teeth done. But then she wouldn’t let us finish. So Eric tried tying her up but she got away and ran all around the corral with her lead rope dragging and the lasso on her foot, it was embarrassing. Eric got her tied up again and left her that way while we finished the others. Then we tried Sugar again but she hadn’t changed her mind, so he made her run circles and tried again. Well this happened about 5 times so he got the lasso back out. She was quite shaken about this. After more flailing around he finally got her legs tied up and had me see if she had changed her mind yet. She did let me get in there this time, but it was tough work. I was both holding her tongue and floating her teeth at the same time! And she was so stressed out, her knees wobbling, sweat dripping from her face down my arms, and a trickle of blood down her forehead from an injury obtained while fighting. Eric was annoyed but I felt very bad for her, maybe because of the dentist anxiety I had all my life. She still seemed shaken later and today even. And I notice now that she hurt her left hind leg while fighting us.
The cottonwoods in the creek behind the house are flowing neon green. Tiny sliver of a moon these days out in the morning when I feed the horses. First vermilion flycatcher of the season beside the corral today.
Got to shoot a .22 rifle today, and hit the target about 18 times! But don’t ask how many times I missed. Then we shot a bb gun at the beer cans we stole from Dink the other night. Then we all had dinner together with Keith, Chrissy and the kids.
It hit me today, and I don’t know why it didn’t earlier in this same capacity…. I am living the life I have always wanted. Feeding horses every morning, shooting beer cans on Sunday afternoon, eating fresh eggs and the meat of a bull who I chased through a canyon on horseback in the desert. I don’t want to become numb to these things just because I’ve experienced so much beauty and unreal moments… I don’t ever want to take any of this for granted! I am giving up my Chevy pickup dream. Owning a truck is not what makes you a cowboy. What makes you a cowboy is getting your foot crushed by a horse and a gate in the same week, awakening to a scorpion stinging your wrist in the middle of the night, going to bed with raw burning fingers from where you rasped your own knuckles, jumping off a teetering horse, eating yellow bull for dinner, kneeling on cactus needles, or barbed wire, or both, etc, etc, etc…