It's Wednesday, People.

So, Ashley spent the night at my house last night and we talked a while about future careers. I'd like to be an artist. I really would. It's always been my dream to attend Columbus Art Institute just like my mom did and become some sort of famous artist. But, I know that that's not probable, and the only artists who become famous are, like, prodigies. I'll probably be dirt poor and single with only a German shepherd named Forte to keep me company.
On the other hand, I could become a vet, have said dog with a successful husband who loves me and 2.4 children to keep me busy outside of work. Would I be as happy? I'm not sure.
Ashley says her family is urging her to become a musical therapist, pleasing small crowds of six old, dying patients in nursing homes by dinging triangles and shaking tambourines to simple tunes. That's not really what she wants to do, she says. She's always loved performing arts like drama and symphonies, not therapy.
The whole money thing really puts a damper on your dreams. Never tell someone who's good at drawing to say you wish you could draw like them, because let me tell you this: NOBODY NEEDS ARTISTS. Artists make no money! If you're good at math and can't draw, consider yourself lucky. You're good at something useful.
I'm like, "Thanks, God, for gifting me with useless talents."
Writing, drawing, and music.
I understand writing is useful, like James Patterson is a fantastic storyteller. But I'm not fantastic. I'm good.
"Good" doesn't make the cut.
That's all I have to say about that.

Today my brother fell off a horse. Ashley, him, and I were all riding around our property today, and our maremma sheepdog, Bo, decided it would be a good idea to try and play with Allie. The horse Daniel just happened to be riding. Now, let me tell you something: Daniel is not a good rider. On top of all his flaws in this area, he doesn't ever hold his reins tight enough.
If your reigns aren't tight, you can't stop your horse if they suddenly flip out and start booking it in a random direction.
So, Bo freaks Allie out, and Daniel is now being carried at top speed in said direction with no control. He never really screams unless he's really, truly scared for his life (like the time he was hallucinating when he was sick one time and thought a cruise ship was going to fall on his room...), so when I heard him really screaming, I knew something was up.
It was practically in slow motion. One second he's on the horse, and the other, he's being flung into the air onto the hard, Colorado plains' soil rear-first. Thankfully, Mom had talked him into wearing a helmet, so no major damage was done to his head, but he has a nasty bruise now on his upper thigh where he fell. He's also milking his injury to get out of, say, helping me watch a spastic two-year-old or doing the dishes by himself.
Well? Boys will be boys. And those who are prepubescent and lack masculinity...