It's choppy, it's incorrect and it's exactly what I wanted. A little slice of my temporary insanity from last fall.
Seven and a half miles. That’s how long it took me to figure out I hadn’t done it right. I sat all night, wondering, yet laughing through everything happening. The dumb jokes, guest stories, co-worker whining and I still managed to get through it without asking a single question. We’d gone to the Potbelly and I waited. I resisted asking the whole drive back
I haven't been on the forums in a long time. I realize this, yet I still don't feel like participating. I miss the discussions and whatnot, but I feel like I shouldn't even read the stuff if I am not going to contribute. I suppose I'm getting to be just another apathetic American who is going to ***** and whine about my country falling apart, yet still too lazy to get off my skinny *** and do something about it.
So, this is not a farewell blog at all. I am taking a break from
The time has come for my monthly blog. Funny, how recently I haven't had the urge to write. I've been on a roller coaster quite a bit, probably a downside to the more social nature of my work, but that's okay. The worst doesn't hit until bedtime, and then I can lay down and sleep the troubles away. Or try to anyway. The less sleep I get, it seems the loopier and less bitter I am towards things. I've had snow removal 4 days in a row now- that's getting called at anywhere between 2 and 4 am
I am forced to do something I sometimes long to do- sit down and do nothing. Sunday morning, I wanted to do nothing more than stay in bed and rest. I find it very strange how trying to stay busy is exponentially more tiring than constant, directed labor. But, Monday morning I was up and ready to hit the post holiday crowd-less mountain. I don't give a **** about snow conditions- I want to recklessly tear down the mountain without having to worry about clobbering some three year old their first
I've been dreaming of Cherokee Park a lot lately, and I'm not sure why. I do miss it terribly, and the other night as I was falling asleep I had this flashback out of the blue of a Sunday morning gathering the herd off Goat Mountain. It is one of my more treasured memories with my beloved pony.
The dust from the brushing still hovers about the lean-to barn as I heave Hurcules, my saddle, down the stairs and towards my horse. He eyeballs me- not nervously, but knowing what