Backing up, Backing up....You got it. You got it.

In an earlier post, I introduced you to the ranch Mule--not the four-legged creature, but the four-wheeled creature--the machine that makes the ranch go round. Janine drives the Mule more than anyone. She is the caretaker of the ranch. The Manager. She is more precious than diamonds--or any other comparison you can think of. She's more precious to me than cream-filled donuts--and that is saying A LOT.

There is no one in the world more responsible and trustworthy than Janine. She is amazing. When she goes off to vet school in a couple of years I am going to close myself in my room and cry for a week. But no need to talk about that now.

Janine is meticulous. She is focused. She is organized. And she is completely and utterly dangerous with that Mule. Last month she had an incident with a large, hollow post that was placed strategically to keep people like Janine from running into the electrical transformer. Luckily, that particular post had not yet been filled with concrete. It took just a moment. She looked over her shoulder when two horses started squealing, and the Mule (of its own accord, okay) rammed itself into the green cylinder.

That was last month.

Today, I walked into the barn and I saw that look on her face. The look that says she really wishes she used bad language, because bad language would truly capture the moment. But Janine doesn't use bad language at all--so instead, she has that look.

"I ran into the door when I was backing up the Mule," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Does it still close?" I asked, thinking she meant the doors to the barn itself.

"We need a new hinge."

It was then I realized she meant a stall door. A precious stall door. (Not more precious than Janine, though...)

I retrieved the drill so we could remove the mutilated lower hinge. "You've just about removed this yourself," I said. The hinge was barely hanging on. Amazingly, the door looked as good as new, just without its lower support.

"You're dangerous with that thing," I said.

I don't remember if Janine nodded, smiled, rolled her eyes, or actually responded. The image in my head is of her walking away with that poor, disfigured chunk of metal, determination in her eyes. It didn't matter what million things she had to do that day. Dang it, she was going to find another hinge and fix that door. She was on a mission.

I couldn't help smiling. Yes, I would take Janine over cream-filled donuts any day. And like I said, that's saying A LOT.