As of late, it seems like everything I have to say has been getting progressively shorter. It's not that I have less to say, or anything, it's just that I don't really feel the need anymore to talk talk talk all the time. Or is that it? Maybe not. Who knows. When winter comes, everyone slows down and turns into themselves. I can hear my dog's nails clicking on the wood floor downstairs, he's probably picking through the trash. Shall I go see? No, it's warm here. No, no, no, it's cold there. My class rank is a sad 99 out of 380. Pity me--someone has to do it if I won't. I feel stupid sometimes thinking about it, and then I look at the numbers one through ten and I think shit, I'm really glad I'm not anything like them. I have a show this weekend! Yay! The Sanchez and I are dressing up on Saturday as a Mexican senorita and her muy guapo boyfriend. I'm wearing a huge skirt and--okay I just checked on the dog and he was in the trash. I think I hate him. Anyways The Sanchez will have a western saddle and bridle, and a moustache and a somberero. Yay! He will be the handsomest horse....ever.