Diary Entry

Dear Diary,

1. Fall down more.

2. Get hit by pie—a small pie for me, and a big one for Boomerang.

3. Read Boomerang a book.

4. Cancel the show.

It’s getting so hard to come up with anything new. All I want to do is go back to the “horse plays music” idea, which again, wasn’t great and didn’t work—but it’s as if that is the only idea stuck on an endless loop in my head.

Last night, after I had my freak-out, my very good, best friends stayed awhile to help me with ideas, but Abigail’s stomach kept rumbling and I could see Lucky looking over her shoulder at all the festivities going on.

I gave up.

My stomach was rumbling, too, and we weren’t getting any closer to a genius idea.

We all decided that we needed to go out. We needed to eat. We needed to have a fun night.

And it was really fun.

We ate the curry and the spanakopita and something from the Middle East called falafel, which was like little fried balls of yumminess in a soft and delicious sandwich bread called a pita. I liked the creamy sauce, too.

Abigail is collecting recipes. When we get back home to Miradero, she’s going to make a feast. We can all help—well, I’d like it if the horses didn’t cook, but I’m not sure that’s a fight I’ll win. Apparently Chica Linda is getting to be quite the chef’s assistant while Boomerang is with me.

When we were full up to the top, we went back to our own caravan area and everyone said good night. The second they all left me, I climbed onto Boomerang’s back, stared into space, and tried to come up with something good.

When my friends found me the next morning, Boomerang and I were both asleep in the saddle.