It was a 5×3 foot piece of heaven, hanging from fat, rusting chains.
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Instinctively, I want to say that I have an irrational phobia of horses. But, I realize, when compared next to my other, legitimate phobias like being hit by lightning, or ingesting glass - it isn't quite that severe. So, it's more like a healthy fear and respect for horses that I have, right up there along the lines of my fear of flying...i.e., I can do it, but I don't like it. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I blame my Annie for this fear of horses - there have been two aunts in my life that I loved so deeply...
I feel pretty sure God said He was going to stop doing that to people.
I love bad weather. I hate flying. Putting the two together does not help, because the spectrum on which they reside is of equal value. Both haunt my dreams, and continuously. I'm hoping...against hope I would imagine since we're entering that stage of the season where thunderstorms lurk around the farthest oak trees, down the highway, and then appear suddenly, from the limb tops...still, I'm holding out that the weather will be nice toward the end of June when I must board a plane and fly to Tacoma, Washington. For funsies, you say? No. Not for funsies. For competition. The community theatre I work with...
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