When I was 13, my dad fell in love with a horse, Brumbie. Brumbie was a 5 year old, skinny, lanky, bay Thoroughbred with donkey ears, a star on his forehead and one teeny white sock. You could call him an ex-race horse, but he broke his leg on his first attempt and was instantly retired to a field. He spent the next year or two working as a “pony horse” – when a race horse is frantic on a track, a slower, more chilled out horse will be ridden beside that crazy race horse to calm him down. Somewhere along the line, he was adopted by a jockey, who brought him to a barn where her friend taught horse riding lessons so he could be used in the rehabilitation program for sick and disabled children. On his first day on the job, he panicked when he was tied to the super heavy, disabled friendly wooden mounting block, and dragged it all the way across the arena. So he was brought over to the lesson program for the more advanced riders, where he showed real potential to be a hunter and equitation horse. Continue reading “Brumbie”
Brace yourselves, I’m feeling sentimental and chatty and Joel isn’t home to absorb the fall out. Continue reading “Sentimental Hoarding: A Clockwork Orange”
I couldn’t sleep the other night. I tried reading blogs and Googling random celebrities (did you know that Dianne Wiest was basically broke in 2015 and almost lost her apartment?), which are my go-to sleep tricks, but to no avail. So I turned off my phone, closed my eyes, and started diagramming sentences. Continue reading “Prepositions”
Joel showed me these videos yesterday.
I can’t even.
They’re amazing. Continue reading “Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared”