Full of piss and vinegar and loving the new barn.  Went on a six mile trail ride Sunday, during which he bucked and bolted and spooked... and fell to his knees.  He seemed okay, just derped on walking?  The riders behind me said that he didn't trip - he just didn't bring his leg forward.  He immediately got up and I immediately dismounted.

Tolerating my batshit crazy beautifully.  I haven't been jumping much lately for medical reasons, but now I'm all cleared, so that's going to start up again.  I think I needed the break because I was sucking majorly at all things getting-over-sticks.

He has a PPE scheduled.  I'm not going to say when, so we can't be jinxed.  I've asked a few people to hop on him and the consensus is that he's a good boy with giant gaping holes in his training.  

Scarlette still has cancer - I opted not to send her to surgery.  I can't stomach the idea of confining a dog with separation anxiety for two weeks post op.  I just can't.  Savannah wasn't feeling well this weekend.  She got a bolus of sub-q fluids and cerenia and felt somewhat better.  Her bloodwork was within normal limits, so we were flummoxed... until she peed on the floor and told us plainly that she has a UTI.  Started antibiotics and magically feels better.  And Birgette just has allergies.

I feel like I need a mental reset that I'm probably not going to get.  Also probably drinking too much.  And stopped exercising as intensely and frequently, but, again, medical.  So I've gotten some closure on losing my baby and I'm ready to get my shit together.  We'll try again.  My life has to continue.  I'm trying to set stuff up to look forward to - trips, purchases, etc - but I'm still stuck in the rut of only wanting to sit on my couch nursing a beer.  It'll get better.  Eventually.  Fake it 'til you make it, right?