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I woke up with a start, panicked that I’d overslept. I rolled onto my side and grabbed my phone on my bedside table. It was only 3 a.m. I flopped back down and then decided to get up and at least check. I swung my feet out of bed and padded in my bare feet to the laundry room.

I’ve been reading books lately that promise to share the secrets Fortune 500 companies use to be and stay successful.

A fellow I’ve known for what seems like forever had a real dislike for horses, for what seemed like good reason. About the time he was getting serious about high school, a horse fell on him and mangled both bones of a lower leg. He said it seemed like he spent all but a couple of weeks of high school in a cast or on crutches.

I was right in the middle of a fairly precarious situation when I felt my phone buzzing in my shirt pocket.

Last month, we attended the Gem State Classic Bull and Female Sale. It’s a yearly tradition for us. We come as spectators, sometimes as buyers and once as a consigner.

I brought the old pickup to a Smart Chick Olena sliding stop in front of the house. Any reiner who knows anything would have been impressed – had my mount been a blue roan instead of a beat-up old blue Chevy. To nobody’s surprise, I was running late again.