A naked woman with no legs riding a chestnut horse with no saddle or bridle. That was my dream. Or rather part of it. She was amazing to watch. They both were. She and the horse were so linked that thought seemed to unite them. How she even stayed on was a miracle. She was like a thalidomide victim as her legs were missing from the pelvis down so she was balancing on her groin. She did lean forward to ride, supporting some of her weight with her hands on the horse's neck but even so it was quite a feat.

I was riding too, in another part of the dream. Getting on Balthazar was a non-event. Obviously I decided to dismiss the 'invitation to ride' scenario. But we managed. The dream or series of dreams was, as always, long and complicated and I don't remember most of it. I do remember a huge black roiling storm that was coming from the wrong way. Lightning and thunder assailed the eyes and eardrums without surcease. It meant big trouble especially as it was heading east, out to sea and then changed it's mind (and it did seem to have a mind) to come back.

Jamaica hurt his toe on Monday. It might be broken. We weighed up the options and decided to do nothing. Jamaica is the wimpiest dog I've ever met and getting a foot splinted and bandaged and then having to wear an elizabethan collar as well would just about do him in. Because he is such a wuss he is very careful with the foot and is keeping it immobilized himself. He is tied up most of the time and only let off to do his business. Richard does walk him to the gate and back in the morning but it's all on three legs. The swelling is starting to go down a little so hopefully we're doing the right thing. As long as he appeared bright in himself and kept eating I was willing to give this a go. This is the same toe that was broken when he was a puppy (Richard stepped on it). Whippets have such fist-like upright clenched-toe sort of paws they are more susceptible to breakage than a more flat-pawed breed.

Almost two weeks since a cigarette and can definitely feel a difference. Have calmed down a little which is good although nervous energy does get chores done. No smokers cough in the morning and only cough when doing certain lung opening postures during yoga and even then very seldom. The right lung, which has had something going on with it for a long time, a *catch* and *itch*, feels more normal. I am still seeking that elusive fully satisfying inhale that I remember but it will come. I give thanks every day for my Breath and I am so happy that I have given this gift to myself. I can beat myself up in other ways if I wish but I don't have to commit slow suicide anymore.

I notice that Richard is not taking afternoon naps anymore either. I think he's had two in two weeks. He went to the doctor about his hip. The doctor suspects arthritis. Richard now admits that it was sore before he fell on it. He fell a month ago and has had problems with it since. Doctor says he can resume walking. Richard has a bit of a palsy now. It is especially noticeable in the morning. It's only slight but it's something that wasn't there before. It breaks my heart. I try not to be scared of old age. I'm not scared of mine, in some odd way I seem to be getting younger, perhaps only an illusion but an illusion that serves me well. But seeing Richard age is hard. Not the brown hair turning grey turning white. But the palsy and the shuffling his feet rather than picking them up and walking (I bite my tongue. I want to shout at him, WALK! DON'T SHUFFLE!), the sitting slouched over with rounded shoulders gazing at the floor looking like a little old man in an aged care home. Stand tall, I think to myself. Look up and Live to paraphrase an energy company safety commercial. When we walk he looks at the bitumen, I look at the world around me. Of course walking is great for mulling things over. I will look at the road when I am thinking but I am always brought back to the present by the presence of Nature. Not so, Richard. He will walk 6km staring at the three feet in front of him. I bite my tongue again. Usually. If I do say something he tells me not to pick on him. And what right do I have to tell him how to live his life? Except that I love him and I KNOW that it is better for him to stand tall rather than slouch, not only physically but mentally/emotionally/spiritually. There is a dulling of the mind that comes with a perspective that is so foreshortened.

So now I've had my complaint and voiced my fears. Richard will never use the yoga lessons I bought him. At least since his doctor's appointment he is starting to lengthen his walking distance. He's meeting me on the other side of the Pedersens now. I trust that gradually he will build back up to the entire distance. The other day a friend came down who is enduring the heartwrenching reality of a breakup. Because of that he brought champagne. So I drank it with him. When he left I was feeling distinctly buzzy. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. Took Radar for his walk and under the alcoholic influence I ran up every hill and along every flat bit of land. Felt great and I was entirely sober and alcohol free by the time I returned home an hour later. That night I could hardly sit. Not muscle or joint soreness but sciatic in the groin. Bummer. Felt great to jog again and if I could get away with it I'd start running again. But I can't so there.

In the meantime I'll work on my asana, Bird of Paradise, or, as I wrote to Jen my yoga teacher, the Fractured Turkey. That's why I feel younger. Rather than giving up things because I'm getting older, I'm learning something new. Not French or calculus or Cordon Bleu cooking but yoga postures. When Jen first introduced us to Bird of Paradise at the workshop I couldn't even attempt it. At home it would take me 5 or 6 steps to get my feet parallel. As for standing upright on one leg, forget it. I could barely get my other foot off the ground. But perseverance pays off. I can stand up now. Slowly, with great effort, but stand I do. And I love it. There are many many postures that I cannot do nor will I ever be able to do. I can graciously admit to the impossibility of some things but there are many that I cannot do now that I could do in the future with practice. I like that. I want to add on to my life, not subtract.