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Enter the LionMarch 03, 2009 March, you know: in like a lion, out like a lamb? (Just typed "lamp." That too.) It's a deal. The end of the month can't come soon enough. So Allie was going to move on or about March 1. March 1 was sleety and rainy, but the forecast for the next few days was worse, so I made the almost hour-and-a-half ride northward through the state forest, through Greenlands (a wooded chunk of conservation land along the state forest's northern border that belongs, I think, to the town of West Tisbury), to Checama Path and down to the Stoney Hill Road. Allie's new home is a new two-stall barn, bigger and better built than the place we just left. It's owned by a couple who have one horse, a mare. The wife is in Pennsylvania tending to her sick father; the husband was moving slowly after a bad fall at work, so I figured out the gate, brought Allie in, and introduced her to the other horse by myself. Husband gave me a ride back to New Lane, where I packed most of my stuff into Uhura Mazda's bed and moved it to the new barn. Monday morning was, as predicted, worse. Sleet and snow pounded the skylights overnight and was still coming down in the morning. Around 7, Trav and I went for our morning walk. The snow wasn't slippery and it wasn't deep, but it was packed almost as solid as dirt and very hard to walk on. I'd said I'd feed Allie's former barnmate her breakfast, since Monday morning was on my regular schedule. Hah. Uhura Mazda had trouble negotiating the driveway. At the top of the little circle, I paused. This is a really bad idea. Don't try it. Shoulda listened to the inner voice. I made it around the circle but couldn't make it up the rise on the far side. With considerable rocking back and forth, I got Uhura out of the way, walked back to the apartment, and left messages that I couldn't get to the barn. Uhura was scheduled for an exhaust-system transplant that day. I called Courtesy Motors to say I couldn't get out my road. Larry said he'd already had a bunch of cancellations; if I did manage to make it out later, come on in. Around 11, fortified by tea and raisin-laced oatmeal, I hiked down to Uhura, accompanied by Travvy. This time I managed to make it up the hill, alternating rocking with roll-backward-and-ease-forward -- all the while remembering the Presidents Day storm of 2003, which caught me way down the Road to Great Neck (near Crow Hollow Farm, where Allie was at the time). With one person pushing and another riding on the hood for ballast, I managed to get out, but old Tesah Toyota blew a head gasket and died a few days later. Having to replace the exhaust system is bad enough; the mere thought of having to replace the truck was enough to push me over the edge. Since I was going to be spending most of the rest of the day in town, I didn't want Travvy with me, and besides I said I'd call Larry if it looked like I was going to make it. So I left Uhura in the plowed but empty parking lot of Island Children's School (school was cancelled island-wide) and returned to the apartment. Finally I made it to Vineyard Haven and deposited Uhura in the narrow back lot at Courtesy Motors. What time should I check back in? I asked. Ricky said around 4:30. Later than I thought. OK, I went to Mocha Mott's for coffee and a bagel, then adjourned to the Vineyard Haven library. I'd brought Warrior Poet: A Biography of Audre Lorde and a couple of articles to read, and a notebook to write in. I read. I wrote. I've been mulling an essay on "heroes and villains," inspired by Mud's Jerry the Gerbil, who is a pretty satisfying villain but at the same time (like most of my characters) "the hero of his own story." After a couple hours freewriting, interrupted by reading and pacing and a trip to the bathroom, I still didn't know where the essay was going. My freewriting wouldn't jell; it was like walking and walking through boring terrain and not getting anywhere. I stopped that and sketched out a chronology for Squatters' Speakeasy, which I really am getting back into. That wasn't much more satisfying than freewriting "Heroes and Villains": it was fine as long as I was sketching the chronology of what I've already done, but the point was to get some clues about what comes next and around the Fourth of July (book time) I hit a wall. I did find Charles Frazier's Thirteen Moons on the shelf. A little after 4 I gathered up my stuff and took the book up to the check-out counter on the first floor. My CLAMS (Cape and Islands library network) card was long since expired so I got a new one. At Courtesy Motors the news wasn't good: the oxygen sensors didn't have the right couplings and so new ones had to be ordered. They'd get there in the morning, but Uhura had to spend the night. Larry gave me a ride home. Travvy was glad to see me. He hadn't chewed anything up. Good puppy. Pearl was glad to see me too. I called husband at new barn, explained why I hadn't been able to pick up more hay and why I hadn't shown up. He said my horse was trying to "beat his horse up." He'd shut her in her stall. Allie is a dominant mare, and it usually takes a few days before new pasture mates get their herd dynamics worked out. Husband has experience with horses and I hope can tell the difference between herd dynamics and aggressiveness, but I don't know him and I didn't see what was going on, so I don't know. Not being able to get up there was frustrating as hell. From what I saw on Sunday, I think the two mares are going to get along fine, but if the owner isn't willing to let them work it out, we may have a problem. I don't need any more problems. An expensive truck repair, uninspired writing, ongoing attempt to find a place for Allie that I can afford, the island newspapers' indifference to Mud -- feels like I'm hemorrhaging energy and spirit through pores I didn't know I had. Every goddamn thing takes more goddamn energy when you're always goddamn broke. So I'm sitting here praying for March to end, and for Allie's new situation to work out, and for Larry to call and say that my truck is ready, all the while running through all the reasons why this isn't a good time to just give up (reason #1: what else would I do?), and asking yet again for a sign that I'm on the right path. Don from Speed-of-C just e-mailed me that I've got a check coming for $90.42 for November sales of Mud. Well, it's not going to pay the truck bill, and I make better money selling copies retail, but it's still cool.
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