When I was a kid, I absolutely loved reading Farley's Black Stallion series. Such epic, magnificent horses. I envied Alec Ramsay quite a bit. Who wouldn't want to be the sole friend and rider of a gloriously wild stallion? I knew I would never get to be as lucky as that fictional red-headed boy. (Seriously, who gets to be stranded on an island and become best friends with a majestically fierce stallion who also happens to be the fastest mount of all time? Just not fair...) Since I'd already given up on the prayer for God to make me a boy (yep, I figured after 12 years of being a girl that God probably thought it was a no-go) and since my largest pet to date was an extremely fat hamster, I decided that I could only be Alec Ramsay inside my head, for the hour and a half that it took to read each book. It was a sad realization.
Anyway, so all that to mention that I've decided to re-read these awesome childhood novels. The pages seem a bit smaller, the style a bit more simplistic, and the font somewhat larger than I remember, but the story is still excellent, the Black still awe-inspiring, and the human-horse relationship still enviable. I love when a memory doesn't let you down just because you're older.
I'm half-inclined to launch into a discussion about the quality of media for children these days, but I won't. It suffices to say that I hope my kids will either be avid readers or imaginative outdoor play-ers, or both. I realize I won't be able to force Tyler, Lucas, Matthew, Jordan, Sean, Timothy, and Emery to love my idea of quality pasttimes, but I sure can keep my fingers crossed and not-at-all-subtly prod them in the right direction.
Back on the topic of horses: I have still never ridden one, and I want to quite badly. I have never ridden any four-legged animal come to think of it. It's a shame and something that will have to be remedied at some point. It doesn't have to be a horse - a cow, or an elephant, or even a Great Dane would partially satisfy my desire. It would just be that feeling of swinging my leg over the animal, holding on tight to their wool or wrinkles (whichever the case may be) and then riding off into the sunset at a good, steady... plod. Unfortunately, I don't know many farmers who would willingly lend me their livestock for a day of mounted adventures, so I am forced to look elsewhere. A second unfortunately is that the more socially acceptable fix to my predicament is outrageously expensive - stables charge a ridiculous price for an hour ride. If only I were stranded on an island...
Welp, I think that's all I have to say for now. Oh, why the title? Well, I felt like I needed a strong, obvious statement to introduce this post, and while it turns out that it may not be that strong of a statement, I think it makes up for it in its obviousness... Obviousity...? Obviousation? I think it's obvious what I'm trying to say here, so I'm just going to quit while I'm behind.
This post is about as streamlined as my brain can possibly make a post (sad, no?), so I don't feel like there's a need for a summary.
As a nod to Mother's Day being this past weekend, meet Mrs. Opossum. She would stop to chat but she has her back full. And yes, this is the one time that I look on a opossum without feelings of ugh. :)
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