I'm going to be a mom! Well, not exactly. See, my horse is pregnant with her first foal and I'm terribly excited. I just like to say that so people give me a flabbergasted look and then continue to tell me my life is over until I correct them.
So around March 1st, my siblings and I were pulled out of school to witness this creation of life. My horse, tiny and easily-intimidated, would soon be paired up with the mighty Albertus Maximus, winner of the 2008 Breeder's Cup Dirt Mile, the mother of all races (beside the Ketucky Derby). Not only did he have an impressive reputation, but seeing him prance into the breeding shed was also quite impressive. He was much bigger than any horse I've ever had to take of, and was almost too much muscle for his handler- who was also much bigger than me. While I won't go into the obvious details of what breeding is, I will say that my horse was perfectly fine- for a first-timer- while Albertus was the one with the...performance issues. We'll say it took eight tries.
Anyway, my mare expects her little bundle of joy come late February of next year; horses have the long incubation period of 11 months, 11 days. Perfect timing, considering by the time the horse turns one, it will have a leg up on its competitors for being older. While I will be in college by that time, I expect to be there for the birth of her first foal. My horse is very special to me, and I already know her baby is going to be a great racer.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Poetry and the Beach
I hate poetry. Poetry hates me.
There are so many events coming up that I could spend my energy on; like prom, or getting tan enough to be able to live in Florida for a week. I knew this poetry unit was going to sneak up on me. I remember the exact day Mullins told us we were going to do poetry at the beginning of the year. And now that it's here and time to start reading and dissecting poems, I realize how fast this year went by. I remember sitting in my chair smirking, thinking Spring was too far off for me to worry about it. But now it's here and I'm buried up to my neck in work; physical, tough, time-wasting work. I feel awful for not being able to sit back and enjoy reading poetry in the middle of the day; instead, I'm cursing the homework I'm forced to do at midnight because my manager wouldn't cut me early enough. Although, tomorrow is a good opportunity to catch up on homework, before I leave for a volleyball tournament in Muncie, Indiana.
While I would love to spend my time worrying about Spring Break and Prom and all that, I have to prioritize my life. Perhaps, I should instead focus on actually passing English in time to graduate, and make a final decision about college. The beach will have to wait, I have poetry to read.
There are so many events coming up that I could spend my energy on; like prom, or getting tan enough to be able to live in Florida for a week. I knew this poetry unit was going to sneak up on me. I remember the exact day Mullins told us we were going to do poetry at the beginning of the year. And now that it's here and time to start reading and dissecting poems, I realize how fast this year went by. I remember sitting in my chair smirking, thinking Spring was too far off for me to worry about it. But now it's here and I'm buried up to my neck in work; physical, tough, time-wasting work. I feel awful for not being able to sit back and enjoy reading poetry in the middle of the day; instead, I'm cursing the homework I'm forced to do at midnight because my manager wouldn't cut me early enough. Although, tomorrow is a good opportunity to catch up on homework, before I leave for a volleyball tournament in Muncie, Indiana.
While I would love to spend my time worrying about Spring Break and Prom and all that, I have to prioritize my life. Perhaps, I should instead focus on actually passing English in time to graduate, and make a final decision about college. The beach will have to wait, I have poetry to read.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
My Dad's Music Predicament
My dad has always been an old-fashioned guy. He hates my technology-loaded generation and its stupidity with a fiery rage only equal to that of my own emotions when I play volleyball (we are both passionate people, you see).
Dad has a problem. He is the president of the PLD Baseball Team this year and has been assigned the impossible task of finding agreeable music to everyone's taste. Ouch. He's been sitting on the couch for days now, iPad in one hand, and notebook paper in the other, blaring out classic rock songs at random until he gets too exhausted and goes to bed. His concentration cannot be broken! but neither can the list of 70's rock songs. My brother cringes every time Whipping Post by the Allman Brothers Band comes on yet again. He tried to show my father "the light," whipping out his own iPod and blasting Lil' Wayne throughout the room.
"We listen to it in the locker room all the time," exclaimed my brother. My dad snarled at the poor kid and told him to go to his room before the iPod would be broken into bits. Dad shook his head and sat back on the couch once more continuing to grumble about today's teenagers ("Nothing but a bunch of sissies). Before I knew it, the man had turned on me, accusing me of listening to such inappropriate shinanigans. He always complained that the warm-up music for volleyball games was just "some guy talking, how is that music?" Well, I don't know.
Anyway, if you come to a PLD Baseball game, I hope you're an ACDC fan. Or Aerosmith. Dad isn't quite finished with his list yet, so I've been looking for suggestions. I just think the whole situation is hysterical.
Rock on, Dad.
Dad has a problem. He is the president of the PLD Baseball Team this year and has been assigned the impossible task of finding agreeable music to everyone's taste. Ouch. He's been sitting on the couch for days now, iPad in one hand, and notebook paper in the other, blaring out classic rock songs at random until he gets too exhausted and goes to bed. His concentration cannot be broken! but neither can the list of 70's rock songs. My brother cringes every time Whipping Post by the Allman Brothers Band comes on yet again. He tried to show my father "the light," whipping out his own iPod and blasting Lil' Wayne throughout the room.
"We listen to it in the locker room all the time," exclaimed my brother. My dad snarled at the poor kid and told him to go to his room before the iPod would be broken into bits. Dad shook his head and sat back on the couch once more continuing to grumble about today's teenagers ("Nothing but a bunch of sissies). Before I knew it, the man had turned on me, accusing me of listening to such inappropriate shinanigans. He always complained that the warm-up music for volleyball games was just "some guy talking, how is that music?" Well, I don't know.
Anyway, if you come to a PLD Baseball game, I hope you're an ACDC fan. Or Aerosmith. Dad isn't quite finished with his list yet, so I've been looking for suggestions. I just think the whole situation is hysterical.
Rock on, Dad.
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