The odyssey

Yesterday morning, Alexey shared a picture of his new Mini Brand chicks.

Immediately, I had questions.

Alexey had answers.

One thing led to another, and a plan was made.

Balls of joy and miniatures.

Yeah, I'm going to need that capybara.

Alexey whipped out his weight chart and scale and started weighing balls.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Addict behavior.

We made our selections and went to check out.

I asked, "Are we opening them at your house or mine?"

"We're opening them in the car," Alexey said. "If we don't get the ones we want, we're going straight to another store."

Oh.

We opened our balls.

I got exactly the two I wanted.

Seems un-Jenniferlike, but I have a plan.

At this point, I was ready to go home.

Alas, Alexey and Tori still had needs. We headed out to Target number two. 

"I'm about to be unemployed," I said. "I'm not buying anything."

Then I saw the mini Milk Bone jar.

Oh.

Alexey whipped out his phone and got the dot code for the Milk Bones.

Back to the car for another opening ceremony.

Yay!

Alexey and Tori were not as lucky. Target number three was under discussion. 

"I think I know how this is going to go," I said, "but my house is kind of between here and there. You could drop me off."

They both laughed and told me I was a hostage.

Oh.

We went to another store.

And then another.

Alexey's bunny remained elusive, but Tori did get all the crabs.

Thank you, friends, for the night of balls of joy and miniatures. You can take me hostage anytime!

Cinnamon

In November 2024, I spent a week in California visitng my mother, who was - and still is - living in an Alzheimers ward.

It was a hard week, but less so than it might have been, because in the midst of everything, I took a little break to spend time with my friend, Corina, and her new horse, Cinnamon.

Cinnamon was an older Missouri Fox Trotter that Corina had recently rescued from a bad situation. They were still getting to know each other, and things were a bit rocky. I've had a lot of experience with complicated horses, and I really thought I'd breeze in and quickly and easily effect some positive change for both of them.

I was wrong.

Cinnamon gave me every bit as much trouble as she'd been giving Corina. More probably. I respected her for that, but it was humbling.

Also, it was also worrisome. This was obviously a tough horse, and Corina has a complicated life. I wasn't sure the two of them were ever going to form the kind of partnership I knew Corina wanted.

Unsurprisingly, things got worse before they got better. Not too long after my visit, Corina's barn owner advised her to cut her losses and move on. Corina did not take that advice. Instead, she moved Cinnamon to a different property, one that better suited her horse's needs.

Cinnamon made friends with a big, one-eyed, bay mare named Bonnie.

After that, she decided to make friends with Corina, too.

From that point forward, every picture Corina posted showed an entirely different horse than the resistant, shutdown mare I'd met in 2024.

She looked younger, healthier, softer, happier.

It was a beautiful transformation.

I was so happy for both of them and looked forward to meeting this new and vastly improved version of Cinnamon.

Alas, that will never happen. 

Corina's beautiful, red mare succumbed to the infirmities of old age yesterday morning. I am heartbroken for both of them, but also so glad they had that time together. Corina wrote: We gave her a soft landing.  She gave me healing. We came full circle. What a beautiful eulogy.

Rest easy, Cinnamon. It was truly a privilege. 

Wisconsin mish mosh

I've spent a lot of time roasting James for the packing disaster that defined the first part of our Wisconsin road trip. But, as bad as it was, all this was an annoyance rather than a catastrophe.

This could have been a catastrophe.

When we took the car off the trailer, we discovered that one of the pieces that holds the car in place had broken somewhere en route.

For reference, this is how it should look.

This could have been so terrible. We really dodged a bullet.

Kind of unexpectedly, I did get to see Tiffany on this trip. Her daughter, Julia, lives in Madison, and she and her husband, Paul, happened to be visiting. 

They stopped by the apartment briefly on Friday and filled James' still-empty refrigerator with a herd of Spotted Cows.

During the process of packing and unpacking, I found a cat harness and leash. 

James told me that Guppy wasn't a fan, but of course, I needed to see for myself.

For a moment or two, there was hope.

Eventually, however, she lay down and refused to move.

Something to work on next time I visit.

And there will be a next time!

I liked Madison, and I love my son. Despite the rough start - and the equally rough ending -  I'm so glad James asked me to help him move to Wisconsin. It was a pleasure spending time with him and his animals and helping him get started in his new life. Thank you, James. I miss you!