Yesterday we went to the place we call Chez Swann. It's a big farm out in the foothills and it belongs to my eldest brother-in-law. There's horses and four wheelers and a pool and dogs and miles and miles and miles of paths. The kids go wild there on the horses or the bikes. Last night we swam in the pool while the sun set streaky pink over the mountains. But then poor old Bambi had some wild idea that the horses wanted to play with her. Then she got stompled. But she's ok, just a little stiff and limpy and beat up. At first I thought she was done for. I thought she was strolling down Old Yeller lane. When she finally dragged herself over to me I told her, "I guess those aren't really big dogs after all, Bambi." Maybe that's a lesson we ALL need to learn.