There is no getting around it: I was indoctrinated at a very young age. I was the baby, and I was the last chance mom had for early imprinting of equine addition (EIEA, pronounced EEEAAAAHHHH!!!) Some people say that it's something you grow into or learn- that it can be cured, that it's a temptation or a lifestyle.  While my mother's imprinting certainly aided the illness, I can't help but feel that somehow, in someway, I was born this way.   Ergo, my equine birthday tribute to my equine mother- the best kind of tribute.     Mom, this shirt is wildly awesome, and if you still own it, you should still wear it. I think I have that hat now. Let me know when you want it back.  Little did you know then that I would steal the hat right off your head, did you?  Also, you look exactly the same. Gorgeous-like.  (also, don't be embarrassed, because I am totally about to embarrass me too, and then we're even.)   The horse that started it all. Mom won't mind that s

Usually, I listen to NPR on my drives around Salt Lake. If not NPR. the Ipod. But yesterday, I was in a real pickle. You see, 90.1 (local NPR) is very informative, lots of good news and thoughts and some really terrible jazz music after 7pm.  But there is a show that comes on from 12-1 called Talk of the Nation.  If I can put my absolutely absurd idiosyncracies aside long enough, I can like Talk of the Nation.  People call in, they talk, they tell their stories.  It's great. often, their comments are triumphant or thoughtful or well composed. But, listening comes at a risk to me, because you never know when there might be one of those....awkward pauses. Awkward Radio is a dirty word in my head.  It's the WORST CASE SCENARIO of public events to me. I can't explain why.  But when host Neal Conan says those fated words "You're on the air" and more than a fraction of a second goes by, that hum of dead radio air sends me into convulsions like microphone feedbac

Well, that didn't take long. I've been utterly smitten with this photo that one of my parents (I'm not sure which, actually) took of the new mule at Pioneertown California. It's been my desktop for weeks now.  I love her shiny black coat, the loads of beautiful new leather on her, the hokey and fabulous background of Pioneertown.  It perfectly captured all the things I love about horses and the West. This color scheme is one I more or less invented through the advance blogger modes- it reminds me of the picture below of the moldovan countryside, but it also reminds me of Washington DC, where neon was always adorning the gorgeous inner city teenagers- big cheap plastic neon bangles and hot pink skater shoes with skin tight jeans. I admit it, I thought they looked incredible.  Really, all these things remind me of me. And your blog should always remind you of yourself, shouldn't it? Your cravings, your comfort colors, your favorite images and textures and shades

I suddenly have an insatiable desire to completely revamp this website. I love the map, but it looks dark and dingy. I love the horse, but it should be more dramatic. I love the corn dogs. that's not changing. brace yourself for change. Also, I miss Moldova. Because it looks like this:

Just now I was doing data entry on 4 bazillion records, and I got to a Mr. Snyder.  I giggled in my head, thinking "Can I get you anything Mr. Snyder? Good bye, Mr. Snyder" which of course is from Newsies, and of course isn't actually a funny scene. It's a rather sad scene.  Unless you're doing data entry, and then anything that makes you think of Newsies is going to be better than thinking about data entry, and will definitely be funny. IsIt was about at this point in my train of thought that I snapped back to reality because I'd heard a voice- I'd heard somebody say "Mr. Snyda" with the accent.  No, that wasn't somebody else, that was me. I just said "Mr. Snyda" out loud in my cubicle for no apparent reason. And nobody said anything back. Awkward. Too late to cover, just have to go on like it never happened.