I just had a very good phone conversation with the manager of the small-town apartment community. He will be able to move me back down the waiting list, which means I will have the 12-18-month wait time I originally thought I would have. It is a HUGE relief to me, because now I can (hopefully) build up my savings account for the move. And last night a friend called and offered to drive me up there for a day trip, to meet with him, whenever I get back to the top of the waiting list. This would mean, for her, a 150-mile drive to my place, then just over 100 miles to the town, then a few hours there, then back here, then back to her home. She does a lot of driving anyway, to her family homeplace as well as hauling horses around, but for her to have offered to drive me was a real gift.
She also offered to move me whenever the time is right, just hitch up her horse trailer to her truck and hit the road. "It'll be fun!" she said -- and it will be. That is one of the things I miss so much these days -- I used to love hanging out with my trainer the barn manager, hitching up the trailer and hitting the road to deliver a horse, or pick up a horse or a load of hay or feed, or heading out to some little town in the middle of nowhere to price feed and sample saddles and look at halters and bridles and fencing and tractor parts ...
Is it obvious that 3/4 of my ancestors (all the Southern ones) were farmers?