smile and an immediately-apparent sweet disposition.
Jimmy Johnson, another wrangler, had to be older than my dad and he'd been at Headlands since before I was born. He had weather-beaten, wrinkled skin, eyes that seemed like they were permanently squinting, and wore jeans and boots like he never took them off. I immediately pegged him to be the one who knew everything there was to know about the ranch—and perhaps life—and I really wanted to drink a beer with him.
Stephanie Wright, the therapeutic animal specialist, was my other roommate. Brown haired, plain, and a little plump, she moved with a grace and confidence that belied her ordinary exterior. She seemed like she could become a real friend, and had a caring and therapeutic demeanor.
Janine assigned me to a horse named Happy, who was a big draft horse, kind of slow. I gave him a carrot in a blatant attempt to bribe him into being my friend.
Once I got on the horse in the corral, my excitement for this job increased. I'd forgotten how much I loved horseback riding. As we started off, riding past the corral and barn to the trail, I turned to Janine, "I'm going to be sore tomorrow. It's been years since I've been on a long, hard ride. This is going to exercise muscles that haven't been used in a while."
I heard a low, male chuckle, and saw Will, standing by the tack room, cover his mouth with his hand, having overheard me.
Dirty motherfucker. Guess I said that too loud.
Still, perhaps he had a sense of humor?
Dirty humor plus attractive body equaled way more interesting in my way of doing math. I wasn’t sure those things made up for the fact that he was Republican, however. I mean, hooking up with a conservative? That crossed a line. A party line.
Our horses walked along the hilly trail and Janine told me that the program started because Will's mother needed rehabilitation after a car accident. Will's father had brought in a specialist to teach her how to ride horses as a way of exercising. With facilities in place, they decided to form a nonprofit for disabled kids. Then they expanded to take care of kids who lived in urban environments. Janine ran the day-to-day operations of the nonprofit, while Will oversaw the ranch.
When we got to the top of the hill we stopped, still astride the horses. The wind picked up and blew my hair around. I took in the panoramic view of the Pacific, brown hills to the back of us, and appreciated the beauty of the land around me.
I imagined what it would be like for a kid from Los Angeles or another big city to see this, nothing but wild nature next to the vast blue-green ocean. Then, I remembered that my first group were visually impaired kids. So I thought about how I could help them to experience what it felt like to ride a horse, guided by a wrangler holding a rope. Besides the movement of the animal, they’d feel the tang of the wind on their cheeks and smell the dry, sagey native plants.
We headed back after an hour or so on the trail, then put away the horses and tack, ensured that all animals had enough food and water, closed up for the evening, and went to the chow hall for dinner.
Now, since I had been a vegan for years, I was used to all the issues that came up about eating differently than everyone else. I didn't push my choices on anyone, but I also didn't want to be force-fed meat or dairy. Normally, wherever I went, there was nothing for me to eat, so I came to Headlands prepared to take care of myself, stocked with canned tofu chili, soups, crackers, cereals, soy milk, and almond milk. I planned on cooking my own meals.
But this first night, I wanted to at least make an appearance in the chow hall. Janine walked me into the large, industrial kitchen and introduced me to Jaime Gonzales, the ranch cook, nicknamed "Cookie." A wide and tall man, with forearms like hams, he grinned and his huge smile showcased gold teeth.
"Any allergies?" he asked.
"Well, I'm vegan," I replied.
He blanched.
"So, no meat?
Jimmy Johnson, another wrangler, had to be older than my dad and he'd been at Headlands since before I was born. He had weather-beaten, wrinkled skin, eyes that seemed like they were permanently squinting, and wore jeans and boots like he never took them off. I immediately pegged him to be the one who knew everything there was to know about the ranch—and perhaps life—and I really wanted to drink a beer with him.
Stephanie Wright, the therapeutic animal specialist, was my other roommate. Brown haired, plain, and a little plump, she moved with a grace and confidence that belied her ordinary exterior. She seemed like she could become a real friend, and had a caring and therapeutic demeanor.
Janine assigned me to a horse named Happy, who was a big draft horse, kind of slow. I gave him a carrot in a blatant attempt to bribe him into being my friend.
Once I got on the horse in the corral, my excitement for this job increased. I'd forgotten how much I loved horseback riding. As we started off, riding past the corral and barn to the trail, I turned to Janine, "I'm going to be sore tomorrow. It's been years since I've been on a long, hard ride. This is going to exercise muscles that haven't been used in a while."
I heard a low, male chuckle, and saw Will, standing by the tack room, cover his mouth with his hand, having overheard me.
Dirty motherfucker. Guess I said that too loud.
Still, perhaps he had a sense of humor?
Dirty humor plus attractive body equaled way more interesting in my way of doing math. I wasn’t sure those things made up for the fact that he was Republican, however. I mean, hooking up with a conservative? That crossed a line. A party line.
Our horses walked along the hilly trail and Janine told me that the program started because Will's mother needed rehabilitation after a car accident. Will's father had brought in a specialist to teach her how to ride horses as a way of exercising. With facilities in place, they decided to form a nonprofit for disabled kids. Then they expanded to take care of kids who lived in urban environments. Janine ran the day-to-day operations of the nonprofit, while Will oversaw the ranch.
When we got to the top of the hill we stopped, still astride the horses. The wind picked up and blew my hair around. I took in the panoramic view of the Pacific, brown hills to the back of us, and appreciated the beauty of the land around me.
I imagined what it would be like for a kid from Los Angeles or another big city to see this, nothing but wild nature next to the vast blue-green ocean. Then, I remembered that my first group were visually impaired kids. So I thought about how I could help them to experience what it felt like to ride a horse, guided by a wrangler holding a rope. Besides the movement of the animal, they’d feel the tang of the wind on their cheeks and smell the dry, sagey native plants.
We headed back after an hour or so on the trail, then put away the horses and tack, ensured that all animals had enough food and water, closed up for the evening, and went to the chow hall for dinner.
Now, since I had been a vegan for years, I was used to all the issues that came up about eating differently than everyone else. I didn't push my choices on anyone, but I also didn't want to be force-fed meat or dairy. Normally, wherever I went, there was nothing for me to eat, so I came to Headlands prepared to take care of myself, stocked with canned tofu chili, soups, crackers, cereals, soy milk, and almond milk. I planned on cooking my own meals.
But this first night, I wanted to at least make an appearance in the chow hall. Janine walked me into the large, industrial kitchen and introduced me to Jaime Gonzales, the ranch cook, nicknamed "Cookie." A wide and tall man, with forearms like hams, he grinned and his huge smile showcased gold teeth.
"Any allergies?" he asked.
"Well, I'm vegan," I replied.
He blanched.
"So, no meat?
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