Hard times

I hate not being able to blog.  But, Mr. III reads everything that I write, so this is no longer an outlet for my feelings anymore.  I have to consider that he'll read it, and be irritated about the fact that I can't tell him what's on my mind.

I DO tell him.  I tell him until I'm blue in the face.  I explain as much as I possibly can to him, but still it's like he has to read it on my blog for it to sink in.  Which can be a good thing, but for the most part, I've devised this blog to be something private, that I include specific friends (like my follower, Mary) and outsiders that I don't know, for my own selfish reasons.  I write about things I'm bothered about, and it IS an outlet for me.  Its like a journal that I don't mind people reading. 

I look for advice mostly, outside of the box, when i'm writing in my blogs.  Or, to see if I have some people who have common ground. 

It's been two years since I got my job where I kept Jimi.  Around this time, my ranch boss hired me on as a 5 days a week stall cleaner and all around barn-girl.  I miss that job.  I'd take it back in a heartbeat, if money wasn't an object, or if I had time.  I miss horses.  I miss the ranch.  I need to find a new place to ride.  But I need not only a trainer, but a therapist.  A hippotherapist, who can work my through my fear of large horses, and help me excel in my riding.  I miss Jimi.  August will be two years since I took him home. 

I want to go see a psychic.  I want to ask them two questions: 1. Will I ever see Jimi again, and if so, 2. how will I know it's him. I think he's somewhere out in the world as a cute little yearling, somewhere out there waiting for me to find him and take him home again once more.  He's waiting for me to be stable enough to afford to give him the life I wasn't able to give him in his previous life.

As well, we have a ghost in our house.  More about it later.