Thank god I'm a country boy
I have to admit a lack of fondness for "catch up" posts despite having used them so often in the past. They smack of laziness as well as being, in general, long and boring and not as introspective or descriptive as this blog has been in the past.
There is no "but" coming.
Seriously.
There isn't.
A few weeks ago I went to Philidelphia. This trip taught me several things including, and possibly one of the most lasting, that I have no real idea how to spell Philidelphia and will once again allow spell check to catch that for me. Trust me. Google Maps caught it often enough.
However it also taught me that I like humidity (which I did not know) as after two days on the Coast I apparently stopped snoring. Given that Kellen (whom most of you do not know) and Furlak (whom most of you do) were both occupying the same room as me (well, except Friday night...that night Furlak occupied that precious space on the bathroom floor) they were both very keen to inform me of this change.
Which has interesting consequences for my life. I don't like snoring. Now THE DOCTORS say I don't snore all that much, but I have many earnest testimonials to the contrary. Tragically not nearly enough of the aforementioned testimonials are from Anne Hathaway, but what can you do. And while humidity in winter is A Bad Thing (tm), in summer it isn't too painful. And so I find myself contemplating which coast to move to and how soon. I mean obviously the West Coast (why is Coast capitalized in that name?) is closer and I have friends on it (well, close enough) but the East coast (I'm fighting the power here!) is where I stopped snoring. Also it has New York. Which was pretty cool.
Oh, did I neglect to mention that the Furlak and I spent a leisurely Sunday wandering around in NY? I did?!? Well silly me. Also "leisurely" is the wrong word on many many levels. We arrived at Madison Square Gardens Via Amtrak (and yes I did choose the word Via as a pun about trains...sigh) and then coasted along Broadway to Central Park, stopped at the Apple Store (again, why would I feel the need to capitalize "store"?) where I got the new shuffle (which is TRES COOL<---see I used French!) and then wandered through the park (see, no capitals this time, I'm feeling whimsical today) to the Met. Which is to say the Metropolitan Museum of Art (not to be confused with the Met: Artistic centre or the Met: Museum of Modern Art, which may or may not all be seperate things) where I got to hang out with some Rembrandts and Furlak took in the entire show. Well as much of the show as you can get in two hours before they kicked us out. Furlak was also a security threat! He had to get a special tag!!!
No word a lie.
Also, no word a lie. If your museum is about a billion square feet, and you have a special collection at the very back of the second floor, and someone asks you where it is, you should probably mention to them that it's closed for renovations BEFORE they walk for half an hour ignoring all the cool stuff around them in order to be sure to see it before close.
Just a pro tip there. I was peeved.
It is a sign of my nature, I suspect, that I have no real interest in any other painter's than Rembrandt. The one in London continues to haunt me with visions of either wealth or very specific theft. Given my laughable talents for navigation, I suspect they would find me asleep in a closet, clutching "Woman taken in Adultery" (note: The painting, not *a* woman) to my chest (though the other option is appealing) and looking haggard and exhausted from running in circles all night trying to escape.
Is it wrong to want to fly to London just to see a painting? Does it make me a grownup to know I can't justify that?
Speaking of being a grownup, meet Ronin. I did not name Ronin. As a point of fact I didn't want to like him solely because of the name. But I did meet him at the Horse Rescue Place the other weekend when the Girl (deliberate capitalization there) dragged me hither and yon across this fair Province looking at horses. Currently my brain is waging war with my common sense about adopting him. He's pretty amazing though.
sigh
Soon I will need boots and a hat. And maybe a truck...and a dog I suppose.
sigh
If you gaze too long onto rural life, rural life will gaze back onto you!
There is no "but" coming.
Seriously.
There isn't.
A few weeks ago I went to Philidelphia. This trip taught me several things including, and possibly one of the most lasting, that I have no real idea how to spell Philidelphia and will once again allow spell check to catch that for me. Trust me. Google Maps caught it often enough.
However it also taught me that I like humidity (which I did not know) as after two days on the Coast I apparently stopped snoring. Given that Kellen (whom most of you do not know) and Furlak (whom most of you do) were both occupying the same room as me (well, except Friday night...that night Furlak occupied that precious space on the bathroom floor) they were both very keen to inform me of this change.
Which has interesting consequences for my life. I don't like snoring. Now THE DOCTORS say I don't snore all that much, but I have many earnest testimonials to the contrary. Tragically not nearly enough of the aforementioned testimonials are from Anne Hathaway, but what can you do. And while humidity in winter is A Bad Thing (tm), in summer it isn't too painful. And so I find myself contemplating which coast to move to and how soon. I mean obviously the West Coast (why is Coast capitalized in that name?) is closer and I have friends on it (well, close enough) but the East coast (I'm fighting the power here!) is where I stopped snoring. Also it has New York. Which was pretty cool.
Oh, did I neglect to mention that the Furlak and I spent a leisurely Sunday wandering around in NY? I did?!? Well silly me. Also "leisurely" is the wrong word on many many levels. We arrived at Madison Square Gardens Via Amtrak (and yes I did choose the word Via as a pun about trains...sigh) and then coasted along Broadway to Central Park, stopped at the Apple Store (again, why would I feel the need to capitalize "store"?) where I got the new shuffle (which is TRES COOL<---see I used French!) and then wandered through the park (see, no capitals this time, I'm feeling whimsical today) to the Met. Which is to say the Metropolitan Museum of Art (not to be confused with the Met: Artistic centre or the Met: Museum of Modern Art, which may or may not all be seperate things) where I got to hang out with some Rembrandts and Furlak took in the entire show. Well as much of the show as you can get in two hours before they kicked us out. Furlak was also a security threat! He had to get a special tag!!!
No word a lie.
Also, no word a lie. If your museum is about a billion square feet, and you have a special collection at the very back of the second floor, and someone asks you where it is, you should probably mention to them that it's closed for renovations BEFORE they walk for half an hour ignoring all the cool stuff around them in order to be sure to see it before close.
Just a pro tip there. I was peeved.
It is a sign of my nature, I suspect, that I have no real interest in any other painter's than Rembrandt. The one in London continues to haunt me with visions of either wealth or very specific theft. Given my laughable talents for navigation, I suspect they would find me asleep in a closet, clutching "Woman taken in Adultery" (note: The painting, not *a* woman) to my chest (though the other option is appealing) and looking haggard and exhausted from running in circles all night trying to escape.
Is it wrong to want to fly to London just to see a painting? Does it make me a grownup to know I can't justify that?
Speaking of being a grownup, meet Ronin. I did not name Ronin. As a point of fact I didn't want to like him solely because of the name. But I did meet him at the Horse Rescue Place the other weekend when the Girl (deliberate capitalization there) dragged me hither and yon across this fair Province looking at horses. Currently my brain is waging war with my common sense about adopting him. He's pretty amazing though.
sigh
Soon I will need boots and a hat. And maybe a truck...and a dog I suppose.
sigh
If you gaze too long onto rural life, rural life will gaze back onto you!
posted by Bne | 1:02 PM
6 Comments:
A) You move to the coast and I cut you. Bad. I cut you so bad...
B) We spend too much time being practical, because we have no choice. We need, therefore, to seize impracticality whenever practical. ;) Besides, Ronin is /awesome/.
Now if only they would make something that increases the humidity in a room or house... they could even call it a humidifier...
Lies and more lies!
I've had several humidifiers in my day and they cannot counter act the Orographic lifting effect that strips the moisture from the air as it crosses the mountains.
AKA it didn't really help.
Kay, this is going to sound like a really odd question, but where was Ronin rescued from? And does Ronin have more of a name? Such as Devicter Ronin Cruz?
It's important.
Also, you only need boots if you plan to *ride* Ronin. Hats are entirely optional. Sun stroke is also entirely optional.
Also, it's all in the thighs.
That is all.
Ronin was rescued from his previous owner after he tore a ligament in his foot jumping. The vet informed said owner that Ronin (and that might be his entire name) would never be up for heavy work such as jumping or dressage but would be ridable in about a year.
So said owner contacted the rescue to take him since they did not want him if he couldn't do the pretty stuff.
And I would have riden Ronin eventually. But now I will not. Details to follow!
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