So, yeah. Summer's here. Whoo. Watched Canada swoop up Miss Universe 2005. She had a nice dress but I thought Israel should've won. Pedro's doing good. I've been doing sit-ups and stuff to try and get myself up to his athletic level (okay, I lied. I have been THINKING about doing sit-ups) but since it's been raining all week (and set to be like this for a while, they say) I'm not getting any riding done. Harrison and Danielle'll probably cancel boot camp this weekend too, which I'm really bummed about. I really like boot camp. It's usually just me, Larkin, and Heather (because we have horses at Hillford) and we stay at the Ford's house and get up at four to slave around the barn and then ride at seven, slave some more, have lunch, flat lesson without stirrups (once we had a TWO HOUR LONG ONE >=O ) and then go see a movie or something after we finish slaving the rest of the chores. I really think it's fun. I mean, slaving is okay as long as you're doing it in a place you love. We just got back from the Blue Ridge mountains, and, I'm sorry to say, I have no poetic reflections on the land or wildlife for you. We had fun, that was all. It was kind of cool to sit around in a hot tub five miles away from cell phone service on all sides--not that I have a cell phone anymore or anything--and watch fireflies. Was that semi-poetic? Gross. At any rate, I got some summer reading done and took walks up and down the country road from our cabin to the country highway. Tried to get some local horses to come to me but I didn't have cookies. Mom wouldn't let me go back with bread. She said I was tresspassing. I said that not to the horses I wasn't. Eh. I got really angry with my mom on that trip, too. She was in a joking mood and started making fun of my desire to be a large animal vet, and I just freaking snapped. Nobody ever supports me on that. Well, why the hell not? Do all of you just think I'd be better off doing something else? Well let me tell you something: I'll do whatever the hell makes me happy. Your opinions? Yeah, they don't matter. You can tell me all day long that I need to be a writer/diplomat/TV anchor/dentist/radiologist/another job that makes money but I frankly don't care. I don't. (I just really, really wish that maybe somebody--like, just sincerely--would actually look at me and say "I think you'd make a great vet." Not even my own mother will say that to me.) P.S.: She's the one who thinks I need to be a foreign diplomat. Laughter begins now.