Lessons From Pimmy

Sunday, September 14, 2025

.This photo of Pimmy shows her looking fit and fine just a couple of days ago. Yesterday, though, she began limping uncomfortably. I couldn’t find anything wrong with her hoof, so at first I suspected a flare-up of her Cushing’s disease. Later, I noticed swelling around her “ankle” joint, and when I touched it my hand came away with a couple of tiny blood spots. Could it have been an insect bite?

I’m off work today and, if needed, I’ll call an equine vet to come examine her. It’s been a full year since Pimmy’s stay at the emergency veterinary clinic, when she was diagnosed with Cushing’s disease and Type 2 diabetes. These days she’s doing well. She doesn’t fight me too hard over her daily meds, and she’s lost some weight. Since separating her from her horse buddies to control her feed, I’ve been surprised by how close we’ve grown.

Nowadays, Pimmy feels less like just a cute donkey and more like a lovable big dog. She’s teaching me more about donkeys than I ever expected. For example, I’ve learned to give her time to “think over” what I’m asking. More often than not, she’ll eventually decide to do it.

She’s a special one. Now that I know better how to communicate with her, I sometimes dream of training her to pull a cart. That’s still a fantasy, but maybe one day I’ll write more about it.

Meanwhile, please hold good thoughts for Pimmy—that her limp eases without leading to new troubles.

—Diana

Watch Stories

Saturday, September 13, 2025

Recently, with the help of ChatGPT, I sold a high-end wristwatch to a Spanish-speaking customer. The person understood some English, but I don’t speak Spanish, so I couldn’t fully understand them. They examined a few of the available watches while also mentioning the word “crystal.” I wasn’t sure about the question and how to respond. As their overall interest in the watches appeared to be waning, I said, “Wait just a minute.”

I quickly found my cellphone, returned to the watch counter, and opened Chat in voice mode. I said, “Chat, I have a customer looking at watches who is interested in their crystals. Can you look at one of the watches and explain its strong points and benefits?”

When Chat responded, “Yes,” I hovered my phone over the watch that my customer had appeared to be most interested in. Immediately, Chat confirmed that it was an excellent timepiece with a crystal of synthetic sapphire, rated for hardness just below diamonds. My customer relaxed, nodded, and showed renewed interest. Chat wasn’t finished and continued by describing other highlights: its excellent water resistance, battery-free accuracy, and the brand’s fine reputation. That assistance sealed the sale.

I’m relatively new to selling high-end wristwatches, and this was actually the second time I had used Chat to help explain to a customer the benefits of a high-end watch. That earlier customer had wondered if a particular watch was shatterproof. I knew it was, but couldn’t explain why with confidence. So, on an impulse, I turned to Chat. It “looked” at the watch, confirmed its durability, explained its highly-rated shatter-resistance characteristics, and then went on to describe, overall, what made it an excellent timepiece. Sold!

The more I experiment with AI and find new ways to use it, the more impressed I become.

— Diana

Chills & Checklists

Friday, September 12, 2025

Here in early morning Central Oregon, I’m warding off another drizzly chill by wearing a mid-weight jacket. I lack the motivation to turn on a portable heater in this coolness. It’s a good bet that I won’t enjoy summery days for most of this fall, as that’s sometimes happened. Among other urgencies, I must arrange for an electrician to replace a GFCI that monitors the water temperatures in my horses’ troughs.

There’s little worse than going out to feed horses and discovering their water frozen over. Some years ago, I encountered an ice cover that was too thick to break up with a hammer. I remember trying and failing, feeling frustrated and frightened. I recall enough space above the ice to add some water. Heavy ice will quickly take over fluid water, a worrisome condition. We got through that morning, and I don’t want any repeats.

That’s for starters. There are always many needs in preparing for this season’s weather change. I’ve written about routine challenges ahead to prepare my small property and animals for the winter ahead. This year, I’ll prepare my vehicle extra by getting a set of “Snowflake tires,” designed to navigate the snowy roads without also needing tire chains.

Then, there’s my roof, which is old and calling for repair or replacement. Sigh….

My challenges are familiar to anyone with an aging house, some acreage, and animals, situated in an environment that faces routine and significant seasonal changes. The fall seasons are gorgeous, bringing cooler weather and changing natural colors. While I love this season, it calls for almost-immediate action, and too soon after lazy summers.

Okay, I’ll buckle up and get moving.

— Diana

Roller Coaster

Thursday, September 11, 2025

The stock market has been keeping me wide-eyed all morning. Sitting here and clutching my coffee, I’ve been watching the numbers. They’re leaping as if they’re stars in an amusement park show. After weeks of comparatively lackluster market activity, this time it’s making me feel like someone strapped into a roller coaster—fast climbs, sudden drops, and no warning before the next turn.

I catch myself wanting to react to every swing. “Look, I want that gain!”—quickly followed by, “Oh no, gains can vanish just as suddenly!” In this sort of rising market, I’m strongly tempted to click buy or sell. As if I could steer the ride! Well, my repeated (and sometimes painful) learning is that the market never takes my cues.

I keep reminding myself: I’m not a day trader. I’m a long-term investor. My responsibility is an IRA—an account that needs to be steady, not dizzy. My goals are long-term, which means I can’t chase every tick. What I must do is breathe steadily through these rapid and significant gyrations and keep my eye on the bigger picture.

Still, I must admit—it’s thrilling. Part of me enjoys this spectacle. It’s like watching a storm sweep over the Cascades: dramatic, powerful, and entirely outside my control. My challenge is making sure the storm won’t blow me off course.

So today, I’m holding tight to my seat and remembering that account balance must matter more to me than reacting and speedy decisions. My job is to stay aware of the sudden swoops and dives—watching, learning, and doing my best to enjoy the ride. And not losing my footing.

— Diana

The In-Between Season

Wednesday, September 10, 2025

The weather feels to be in rapid transition. It’s drizzly and chilly. Last night, I wore a jacket while feeding the horses, and inside the house, I layered a flannel shirt over my t-shirt. I closed the bedroom windows and added a blanket to the bed. It’s that time, folks.

Time to find the waterproof boots and long-stored coats.

Late yesterday afternoon, while I was at my outside job and not swamped, I began to feel the chill. I drifted over to the racks of new coats—rows and rows of them just arrived. For a moment, I imagined slipping into one and wearing it through the rest of my shift. But the truth is, I already own more coats than I need. My better angels whispered “no,” and fortunately, the store grew busier, pulling me back to helping customers instead of shopping.

This morning, I’ll dig into my closet for a transitional jacket and keep it close by all day. The kind of jacket that wards off the damp chill, yet doesn’t make me look bundled up at work.

I actually enjoy this season, much like springtime, offering the best of two worlds. There will be warmish, beautiful daytimes and cooler nighttimes, plus the delight of watching nature’s colors shift. The balance is fleeting—but lovely while it lasts.

— Diana

His Escape-Hatches

Introducing an adorable puppy (3 years ago)

Tuesday, September 09, 2025

Lately, we’ve had steady rains—not downpours, but enough to soften the soil. Chase, my strong and stubborn young dog, has seized the opportunity to resume his favorite pastime: escaping. Almost daily. His little buddy, Mitzvah, ever watchful, waits until Chase digs wide enough for her to slip through—and she’s the first one out.

So far, neither has strayed far enough for a search party. More often, I open the door and there they are—wagging, panting, crowding each other to greet me. I swallow my distress, invite them in, hand out cookies, and then return them to their outdoor space. After that, I’ll walk the fence line, hunting for their escape hatch and blocking it as best I can.

Two problems. First, this almost always happens on a workday, just when I’m about to leave. Chase makes me late (again). Second, after three years of patching holes, I’m out of easy, right-sized rocks. What’s left are the too-big ones, and moving those requires sweat and ingenuity.

Yesterday, muttering to myself, I declared for the hundredth time, “This dog must go!” The counter-argument came just as quickly: “But no one else would put up with his escapes. A really good dog like Chase might end up treated poorly—or frequently running loose and in danger.” And so, after countless escapes, Chase still lives here. Along with little Mitzvah, his sometimes partner in crime.

This morning’s drizzle and my work schedule make for perfect digging conditions. After feeding the horses, donkey, and chickens, I’ll haul out the garden wagon to help wrestle a few heavy stones (if needed) into place. Meanwhile, I’m crossing my fingers that today (please!)—Chase, don’t dig!

— Diana

A Talk With Linda

Monday, September 08, 2025

Later this week, I’ll be catching up by phone with my nearly lifelong friend, Linda. Many years ago, she was the one who nudged me toward college, setting me on a long road to the career I eventually achieved.

Early on, she encouraged me to leave the Midwest for Southern California, where evening classes and other opportunities made it possible to pursue college while working full-time. Years later, she pointed me toward a small, welcoming town in Central Oregon where she lived, and again, I followed her advice. Some years ago, she returned to her roots in California, but across the miles, our friendship has stayed steady and strong.

Linda has always been politically savvy and endlessly curious. With her, small talk never lasts long. Our conversations move quickly into larger territory: what we’re learning, what we’re noticing in the world around us, and how maturity continues to reshape our daily lives.

This week, I’m holding three threads in mind that we’ll likely explore:

AI, and what it means for lifelong learners like us.
Politics, in a time that feels turbulent and uncertain.
Aging, and how it keeps redefining identity and purpose.

We rarely see eye to eye on everything — and that’s part of the gift. Linda challenges me to think harder, and I hope I do the same for her.

In times when the future feels uncertain, steady friendships matter more than ever. They make the best conversations possible — weaving together the personal and the political, the present and the future.

— Diana

Kitchen dōjō

Sunday, September 07, 2025

Recently, I came across a piece where someone described “having a Ninja kitchen.” That struck a personal chord. Me too! Some people dream of a gourmet setup filled with gleaming gadgets. Mine? It has quietly transformed into a Ninja dōjō.

It started innocently enough with a Ninja smoothie maker that whipped up dreamy, creamy blends in seconds. Then came the coffee maker—my morning “push and sip,” no more sleepy battles with confusing buttons. A counter-space-saving air fryer followed, crisping veggies, reheating leftovers to fresh-like perfection, and even roasting chickpeas until they crunch (who knew?).

Now, a Ninja “Foodi” has strutted onto my counter. With pressure cooking, slow cooking, crisping, and steaming, it’s like having the Swiss Army knife of kitchen gear—but without the sharp edges.

At this point, I’m no longer resisting. Whenever I think about a new appliance, I check whether Ninja makes it. Chances are, it’ll be cleverly designed, and I won’t need a 40-page manual to figure it out.

So yes, Friends—my kitchen is officially a Ninja kitchen. And honestly? I’m fine with that. If Ninja ever makes something that unloads the dishwasher, I’ll be set for life.

—Diana

Finding My Voice!

Saturday, September 06, 2025

I recently listened to an interview with Robert Reich about his newest book, Coming Up Short: A Memoir of My America. One of the themes he spoke about was “social bullying,” which he described as a “social constant.” He suggested it may have been more visible in his own youth, but he emphasized that bullying in any form can quietly suppress people’s ability to get ahead.

His words stirred up memories for me. Growing up, I often felt “bullied”—not by fists or shouts, but by a steady stream of signals that I was “less than.” Less, for being a woman. Less, for being single. Less, for carrying just enough extra weight to feel unattractive. I absorbed it all without knowing how to push back.

My turning point came from a college-educated co-worker and friend, who refused to let me give in to those doubts. She ignored my protests that I wasn’t smart enough or didn’t have time. She kept insisting that I enroll in a college-level evening course until I finally did—and to my own surprise, earned an A. That single step propelled me into nearly twenty years of night classes, where I eventually earned three accredited diplomas, including a Ph.D. That education became both an instant negotiating tool and a foundation for new opportunities in work and in life.

When the coursework ended, I faced the deeper battles within myself. Therapy became the next step, giving me space to untangle old knots, discover new perspectives, and slowly reshape how I lived. Nothing changed overnight, but with time and persistence, I learned to recognize joy, create opportunities, and trade old doubts for steadier confidence.

Looking back, I see that each step—education, therapy, and my own dogged persistence—wasn’t just about survival. It was about rebuilding a life that finally fit me, and still does.

That long-ago friend and I remain close. I think of her insistence as “good bullying”—a relentless encourager who pushed me in precisely the way I needed. Listening to Reich reminded me that harmful bullying is not always loud; often it’s woven into the silences and unspoken judgments of daily life. But with persistence, coaching, and healing, those silences can be overcome.

Dear friends, persistence and healing helped me trade old battles for a steadier self.

—Diana

My Steadfast Timekeepers

Thursday, September 04, 2025

Pimmy, my donkey, doesn’t need a clock. Her inner alarm is astonishingly precise at mealtimes—and she makes sure I don’t forget. She’s been getting only weight-loss rations for months, and her appetite feels supercharged.

Morning or evening, I hear her braying because I’m moving too slowly. She sidles up to the gate, ears tilted forward, her whole body spelling out one word: Now. My horses might prance or pace when impatient, but Pimmy? She gives me a look that suggests authority.

She’s not my only steadfast timekeeper. Maxwell, my cat, knows exactly when his food should appear. Max is even pushier than Pimmy; he winds around my ankles, practically tangling me in fur and whiskers. I’ve learned to step carefully, always on alert not to trip.

There’s comfort in the constancy of these two critters. My larger world is always shifting—whether it’s a fence that needs repair, the weather’s unpredictability, or the endless churn of local and global politics. Yet Pimmy and Max bring me back to a simple rhythm of existence: “feed me, water me, keep me safe.”

In return, I relish their companionship and the simple lessons they bring: no excuses and no delays. Their routines remind me that being on time and doing what’s expected really matters.

Dear friends, Pimmy and Max remind me that routines offer a special kind of comfort.
—Diana