The Art of Can Do

If there is one thing I strive for right now in my life, it’s to try to make a difference in the lives of the young girls I call my students. It’s a personal goal and a debt I feel I owe to society. Having once been in the very same shoes my students dance in now, it’s almost as if it is my own responsibility to make sure these easily impressionable females are given something I never was.

Through dance I learned the key to expression, but dually learned to master the art of masking. A double edge sword, no doubt, but something I think many dancers can agree with me on. To be a dancer that tears everyone’s attention away from everything in the room is a gift. For some, it’s a natural born talent. For others, it’s something they have to learn, but often times can not. No matter the gifts you do or don’t have, it takes everyone the same amount of steps to reach that emotional nirvana that some dancers will describe as a form of drug.

It took me a long time to be able to understand what it meant to “let go” while dancing. Sure, I could act happy. I could act mad. You give me a word and I could act it. But there always seemed to be that fine line I could never cross with my teachers. Endlessly I was told, “You’re not feeling this, Danielle. FEEL IT! Let go.”

Let go? Let go of what? The tight grasp I have within my balled up fists because I can’t master this technique? Let go of the anger I have that I was not blessed with a body that could accommodate the perfection of a ballerina? Let go of the fact that I have horrible feet, a back that won’t bend, or hips that make it difficult for the daily splits? WHAT?! What is this that they want me to let go of? You want me to dance till I cry? You want me to dance till I’m more exhausted from mentally exerting myself than physically?

The answer was always, “yes”. To all of the above. My problem was I only ever had one instructor who was good enough at helping me realize this and getting me through the disconnect between my brain and my body. Because of him, I became a new dancer entirely and stepped into a realm I never imagined myself going. He helped me discover that you don’t have to be the best at lifting your leg 180 degrees over your head and you definitely don’t have to be the best at pointing your freackin’ foot. (Pronounced, “FREE-ahhc-keein”. He was Russian, born and raised in Communistic times, but also very sensitive and up-to-date on the modern times. He fled Russia at the perfect time, he always told me.) I loved this man.

It was around this time when I started to grasp this “let go” concept and started struggling with the “can do” strategy. Sadly, my burly, sometimes scary, but always pushing me harder and harder anti-red tape dance master moved on with his life. I was then left behind in the glitter and glam of a competitive dance world where everyone, I felt, was better than me.

I danced my heart out. I danced when I was carefree and I danced when I was wallowing in self-pity and depression. I used those energies and channeled them into my steps and movements. But my once in a lifetime teacher, straight out of the Moscow ballet himself, forgot something with me in his focus to get me to “let go”. He forgot I was a 13 year old girl who also needed to be told what I was doing right even when I was clearly doing wrong. He forgot to tell me, “You CAN do this” when I loudly proclaimed I couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, he was a phenomenal instructor. He achieved his goal in teaching me to let the emotion flow through my art. My muscle memory and technique did improve drastically with him and it improved at a rate no other teacher had been successful with. But that was in less than a year’s time. When he barked, “JUMP!” I didn’t ask, “How high?”. I just sprang upward for everything I had. I knew it was a disgrace to him to come to the barre or the dance floor without being able and ready to give it 110%. He expected dedication. Dedication is what he got.

The problem that I faced shortly after he left was more than personal. No other teacher I had from there on out EVER pushed like he did. Instead, I was ignored. If I was lucky, I would get a compliment here or there. Which wouldn’t necessarily have been a bad thing, if I wasn’t surrounded by dancers who were truly amazing and got praise for just breathing.

After working so hard with Dmitri and then being thrown into a completely different atmosphere, dance left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The only memory or motivation I had from his memory was to push, push, push and of course always “let go” at the same time. I could get out there and dance my heart out, but the product I was delivering didn’t  even measure up to everyone around me. My old world of working hard and being vulnerable turned into this world where if you didn’t look good at what you did, it didn’t matter how hard you danced your damn heart. Get off the stage and give the limelight to someone who is worth it.

I started being told I would never be a ballerina. It is truth I have come to terms with over the past several years because I just don’t have the bone structure for it. My ligaments and joints won’t have it and my poor training of 9 years prior to Dmitri destroyed any chance I may have had.

It was not so much being told (although believe me, it shattered my world) it was the HOW I was told. I was cast off. Pushed aside and altogether made felt repulsive. Just because I came to class and worked didn’t mean anything to anybody. So, I sulked and became bitter and the years went on. On good days, I had the gumption to go searching for new instructors and better training programs. But unfortunately, I was at the mercy of someone else transporting me everywhere. If it wasn’t the issue of being too far, it was too expensive and it wasn’t my checkbook that the money was flowing from.

And then one day I was given the chance of a lifetime. And what did I do? I chickened out. Threw my hands up in the air and said, “Woah, Nelly!” before ever really giving it a second thought.

I regret that decision to this day.

Finally, after years of being bitter about the whole thing, an accumulation of a hundred moments all fell into place and I was handed the final puzzle piece of dance to this jigsaw  I call my life.

I realized I COULD do it. I realized that can’t didn’t get me anywhere, but to a very hard moment of waking up to what I’d been missing and letting the flood gates follow. Through the years while I was busy looking for recognition and assurance from my teachers and peers that I was an okay dancer, I was still working to be a better dancer. I still showed up to class, regardless of how many times I thought of quitting that day. I still got excited over recitals, plays, and competitions and gave it everything even when I ran off stage to hide and cry because I thought I had done just awful.

The fact of the matter is, I did slowly improve. Over time I did get better. But it makes me sick to think of all the time and energy I spent in harboring that I wasn’t recognized, that I didn’t feel good enough, that I wasn’t the best. Had I LET GO all of those emotions too and held on as tightly as I could to the CAN DO, I can’t even imagine where I might be today. If I had just done it for myself like I do now, I never would have needed that stamp of approval I thought was so important.

I’m trying to make up for lost time, but now I’m already 4 years in to what is precious time to a dancer’s career and those are 4 years I can’t get back. I accept this. I’m slightly wiser than I was when I was in my teens (but not by much, don’t give me that much credit).

So why this post? Because now, more than ever, I have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of young dancers. I can take what I did and didn’t get in a teacher and make sure these girls understand the balance of self-respect, self-dignity, and working hard. I will tell them and be brutally honest with them when they are in need of a correction, but I also make sure to highlight what they do well. I try to tell them, “Be you. Don’t worry about the other girls.” I desperately try to make them see that in the end, it’s the amount of self worth and pride they take in themselves that is so much more important than any trophies they bring home. At the end of the day, when you go home and you feel drained of everything because you came to class and you worked the hardest you could, that is a far better reward than any silver, gold, or platinum medal hanging on your wall. My pledge to them, “I will make sure you know that I recognize your efforts, but I will also be tough on you. I will treat you all as beautiful individuals who are all unique with separate talents. I will not ignore you, but I will push you.”

I can’t expect any one of them to turn out like me, nor would I want them to. They are on their own journeys and I just feel lucky to be a part of them. But I will not stand by without trying to guarantee they walk away with confidence in themselves to not only apply to dance, but to their every day lives.

Looking back, maybe Dmitri knew he never needed to tell me anything. Maybe, he knew, that I already knew…

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Married to Building a Legacy…

It’s been awhile since I last posted.

A very long while…

I never really know who all reads this thing and to be perfectly honest, I sort of like that way.

It has been over a week since I said, “I do” to the man of my dreams. It has been over a week since I made the lifetime commitment to my very best friend. At the young age of 22, I made the absolute best decision of my life on August 25, 2012.

People all have very mixed emotions to the topic of marriage these days. In a world where divorce is as common as a Starbucks on every street corner, many individuals balk at the idea of such a serious commitment. I, however, reveled in the very thought of being a wife.

My job as a wife now is not to serve my husband. It’s to love him, care for him, and most importantly build a legacy with him. Our story began the day we met and our story will come to a quiet pause when the generations after us wait to tell our tale to each great, great, great grandbabies. I want the love I share with my husband to not only have meaning, but to have a purpose. Love can survive in dark hours, love can conquer all problems, love can be felt in trying times, and love will respectfully give you one of God’s greatest gifts.

It takes deep trust, it takes hard work, and it takes two people to be fully committed to each other. One day, my husband and I will leave this world, but what we leave behind is most important. We hope our children will not only be able to tell our story, but also be able to reenact something similar with their found soul mates. We hope our children will be able to witness first hand the love we share with one another and be able to recall beautiful moments and memories with their children and so on and so forth.

There is something so significantly different about being able to call Tim my husband now. The connection, although already established long ago, is now confirmed (as if there were ever really any question!) and set in stone. To be so vulnerable in front of your family and friends on your wedding day while you exchange your vows is one of the most incredible feelings in the world. In front of them and God we took each others hands and promised to spend each day of our life pining for the other. We accepted the challenge and now, with the best of intentions, will do our best to fulfill our duties as husband and wife.

As I walked down the aisle and shared an intimate moment with my Father, listening to the words he told me as he prepared to give me away, I was making sure that each second lasted as long as possible. In my mind, everything went in slow motion. This was something I had been dreaming of my entire life. I hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of my soon-to-be-husband. I had hoped as a young girl that the man I married found me the most radiant he had ever seen me on our wedding day. I had always prayed that he would be in tears at the sight of me. I didn’t wish this out of vanity, I wished this for the sole reason that every woman deserves to feel her most beautiful on her big day, but most importantly, every woman deserves to feel the devotion from the man she is about to marry. When I rounded the corner and locked eyes with Tim, my heart was at it’s biggest it will ever be in my life.

He stood there and looked to be everything I pictured. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. I didn’t need words anymore, I didn’t need the music with the lyrics playing over the speakers “I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. It confirmed what I was doing was the best choice I could ever make.

My dream had come true.

It is a moment like this where I hope I can sit down with our children one day and tell them how their Father made all of my dreams come true. I can imagine our unborn children now, sitting there, wide-eyed, and smiling.

I was blessed with my perfect wedding. I was blessed with a beautiful day. I was blessed to have my closest and dearest friends standing by my side. I was blessed to have a Father and an Aunt who supported me and Tim and loved us both through the whole process. I was blessed to have been able to marry someone who isn’t perfect, but perfect for me.

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How to Commemorate a Memory…

Hello All,

It is with a heavy heart that I just spent what will be my last night with my beautiful four-legged angel, Dixie. I hope one day she will find her way back to me where I can realistically finance her and her well-being. Fresh out of college, holding down three jobs, and just barely making ends meet, this was an insanely hard decision to make. It was a reality I knew I might have to come to long ago.

Eight years ago in November of 2003, I came across this poor, sickly creature in a pasture where she was up to her knees in mud. Every bone on her body was visible and her skin was dull and lifeless. She had these eyes that screamed in silence, “Save me.” I fell in love with her instantly. In one split second I knew I had completely dedicated myself to this horse for the rest of my life. As of right now, however, my dedication to her comes in a very odd way. Someone told me earlier, “The right decision might not always feel like the best decision, but in the long run this is better for both of you.”

I keep trying to tell myself that. I have somehow convinced myself this will all be okay…but it still hurts and I still feel a sense of failure as her guardian. Will it sting to see her in the hands of someone else? Absolutely. Will it be hard to pull away with her left behind me in some foreign pasture looking at my tail lights? Insanely hard. Will I know that in time, she’ll be okay and with God’s grace we’ll be together again? I can only hope.

The thing is, it’s not that I’m struggling to make ends meet right now that is the worst. No, I can deal with that. It’s the pain of breaking a promise to your pride and joy. It’s the pain of breaking a promise I had every intention of keeping. In the end, though, I ask myself…have I broken anything?

I vowed from day one to always take care of her to the best of my ability. I vowed to make sure that if I wasn’t around, she’d be in good hands. I vowed she would get nothing but the best. I think, in some universe, I have held up my end of the bargain. I’m doing this for her sake and for mine. She’s going to be taken care of in a way I just can’t accomplish right now. She’ll be fed the food she needs to stay plump and healthy through the winter. She’ll be worked on a regular basis by girls who are just like me; eager for an amazing ride and willing to learn new things. She’ll be kept in a beautiful barn (not that her former barn of 3 years wasn’t!) and she’ll be given a brand new blanket for this bitter cold season we are about to enter into. Financially, I can’t provide any of that right now without making a sacrifice for it. Sure, I could skip a week of groceries and live on ramen noodles and risk not being able to put my gas in my car, but is that logical right now? No, it’s not. But I would have done it if I had no other options.

So, maybe…just maybe…I haven’t let her down. At least I hope I haven’t. I hope she has enjoyed these 8 years as much as I have. I hope she knows how much I love her, how much I adore her and her wild spirit. I hope she can realize in some amount of time that this is for her best interests and this isn’t punishment and this certainly isn’t abandonment. I’ve worked out a wonderful deal that I have first rights to her if anything is to not work out and I can take her back. Her new owners know that in the next year or two I want to regain ownership of my baby and keep her as planned. I want to bring her back into my life ready to care for her and her every need. I want to be the one there the day she takes her last breaths on this green Earth and I want to be the one to whisper in her soft ears that I love her more than anything in this world and she has set my soul free.

Dixie, if you could understand all of this, it would be blessing for me. It would make these next two years go by much easier. There will not be a day I don’t think of you. That’s been the situation for me since the day we brought you home. That cold, rainy day in November is forever etched in mind. You had me at your first whiney and you’ll have me at your last.

You helped me just as much as I helped you. You gave me a sense of pride and independence. You taught a young girl responsibility and how to care. Above all, you taught me patience. Because of you I have patience with people and situations where I probably never would have before you or without you. You gave me the lesson that sometimes you just have to take two steps back to gain one step forward. And let me tell you, all the steps back we had to take along this crazy journey have been entirely worth it.

As I type this out, I can’t help but to feel the lump in the depths of my throat. My tears won’t pour yet because I just won’t let them. It will be as I pull away with an empty trailer and hear you call out that the water gates will open and flood me.

You’ve been amazing, my sweet, sweet mare. I’ll do everything I can to get back to you as soon as I can. Be good and give the gifts you gave me to other girls and riders who need it. Teach them all what you’ve taught me and give more of them an appreciation for life. Know I’m never far and I’ll come visit you as often as possible. I’ll come ready with a carrot and an apple and of course, as many kisses as your velvet muzzle can handle.

Forever better because of you,


***Edited to note: I do realize that I went from typing to my followers and no one in paticular to typing to Dixie as if she could read this. Please do not pay any attention to that as my emotions are running a bit high right now.***

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Art and the Reflection In The Mirror

It is classical for people who are both artistic and non to generalize that art is pretty and that it is pleasant to look at. However, for those of us who strive to keep art alive, unique, and inspirational one must look at both sides to what we create; the good and the bad, the positive and the negative, the strikingly pretty and the grotesque. While I like art that is atheistically pleasing to the eye, I also fully enjoy art that for others, may be hard to look at or even understand. Art conveys messages and sometimes those messages are subliminal. Other times it is outright stated. It is a way for people to unlock their inner most demons and accentuate their most beautiful attributes. Art has no boundaries and it definitely has no limits. Till life no longer exists on this planet as we know it, art will always be a center for controversy. It IS its own life form.

As college  is coming to a quick close for me, my life has been slowly taking back its once apparent trend and theme. Before I made life changing alterations to my routine makeup, I was the artsy-fartsy type. Studying in a performing arts academy and getting a heavy dose of it daily was what I thrived on. I fed off of other’s inspirations and they fed off of mine. Whether we realized it or not, we were in an artistic cycle of creating, destroying, revamping, and regrouping. My building blocks of creativity set their roots early on and I have never been able to uproot them completely no matter how hard I tried. Looking back, I wonder why I even tried to in the first place and I am thankful I was unsuccesful.

For one of my last classes at college, I enrolled in a digital photography class and it has been a God sent save for my sanity. I have found myself as of lately divulging that creative side to me once more and I’m loving it. I’m hungry for as much knowledge as I can acquire and I’m consistently looking for new ideas. For my photography class, my ultimate goal was to produce an A-Z portfolio of images at the end of the semester. I still have several letters to finish, but this one I had to share. My topic for the letter R was “rejection” and I had several images in mind for what I wanted to produce. It is with no surprise that I chose to do an image of myself and my reasons are as follows. This picture is done at an aperture setting of 3.5 taken at 1/25. The ISO is set at 400 and it is a partial metered photograph. I did use a flash while taking it so I could get more of a drastic look to it. In Photoshop, I adjusted the color balance, the hues, and brought up the blacks half way when I turned it black and white. Before turning it black and white, I put a mask over my original layer and then wrote the words “REJECT” from the bottom left corner up to the top right corner so they would come out in the original color.

R is for Rejection

I grew up a dancer and I was constantly subjected to being in front of mirror. No matter where I turned there were mirrors shouting back that this and that weren’t good enough. While I had the strength to eventually rise above the tremulous insecurities I was submerged with, it is no secret that there are many girls, young and old, who harbor deep and dark emotions about themselves and their self images. It only takes a matter of time for those nagging insecurities to become their reality and shortly thereafter, their obsessions.

Making close friends with not only fellow ballerinas,but other pre-teens as well I learned of the horrors these girls put themselves through early on in life. They need not be mentioned because the statistics and facts are out there and we are all aware of the distrubing self-destructive methods that girls engage in. What is more frightening and sickening is the negativity that swells in the pit of these girl’s cores and gnaws at who they really are as an individual once these things start to take place. Somewhere along the way, they lose their sense of worth and they label themselves terrible names. Many girls overcome what they face beginning at adolescence; each taking their own time to do so. Sadly, however, many do not.

This portrait might possibly be the spark to a line of photographs I’d like to take one day. Through my experiences in my youth, I often thought I was a reject because I was different or I wasn’t good enough. No matter who tried to tell me different, I had convinced myself otherwise. I wasn’t pretty enough. I wasn’t cool enough and I certainly wasn’t good enough at what I did. However, this photograph has inspired me to take pictures of girls I know have struggled with self-esteem and bring them into their own beautiful light. I would like for them to give me a name they once (or still do) label themselves as and take their pictures in a darker setting with the makeup and hair overdone and then set that picture next to a picture of them done in soft light with very little makeup and their hair done nicely. I would like to show the contrast between what the world sees when they are looked at (beautiful, natural, angelic, and feminine) in comparison to what they see when they look in the mirror. My photography professor once did a similar type of shoot where he placed men and women in different contexts in front of Mylar screen to show that they see a distorted figure looking back. I took place in this project and it has so far been one of my personal favorites. For once, it didn’t matter if my hair looked just perfect or my makeup done right, the Mylar was going to change it all anyway.

Photo taken by Daryl Labello of Heron's Nest Photography

There is also another underlying message within these portraits that can be taken in a different way. Especially in today’s society, we are quick to judge a “different” individual simply based on how they look. Without taking the time to get to know someone we very often take ugly or different for something bad. We cast them off as outcast members of society and look at them with disgust.

It is with dignity and great pleasure that some of the best human beings I have ever met fall into that category of “different”. So often they have been set aside as those who will never make it or those who are too weird or gone astray when in fact it is quite the opposite. Those particular individuals have known to look beyond what is perceived right in front of them and take the world in quite a different light. That to me, is beauty in itself.

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What’s On Your Mind?

– Why physics is so hard for me

– Since when did I fall in love with dark chocolate?

– Why is my favorite cosmetic line so damn expensive? Too Faced is amazing!

– What I’m going to have for dinner.

– I’m secretly in love with Pinterest
       (click the link and see why. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! I’m having a 20 – 30 minute affair with it every night. Call me the next    Mrs. Jones…Mrs. Pinterest? I’m certain this website will save my sanity through the next 6 weeks of educational hell!)

– I laughed so hard at this blog,  Cake Wrecks

– Fairy tale weddings

– Wood cabins up in Rhinelander, Wisconsin

– Where all these tiny bugs are coming from inside of my laptop….Men In Black, anyone?!

– How whenever I’ve been asked what my dream job was or is, I’ve never really been truthful…deep down…I always wanted to be an African Safari Guide…lol! (Dont’t ask where that one came from!)

– How I’m more and more obsessed with photography with every passing day

– Graduation

– My idols are Betty White, Lucille Ball, Celine Dion, and  Tyra Banks. I’d give anything to have dinner with all of them and then a girl’s night out. (Upcoming post on these 4 lovely ladies in the next few weeks).

– New high heels

– Graduation


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What You Feel Is What You Are…

…and what you feel is beautiful. {Name that tune?}

It’s one of those nights. I’m waiting on clean bed sheets to finish drying in the dryer and I’m getting settled into my new apartment. My last semester begins on Thursday. That thought still hasn’t really sunk in yet. I’m almost done. I’m putting to close the final pages of this chapter and I’m so desperately excited for the next. What are your chapters filled with? What things and events determine the start and end for you?

Today was the last time I’d board that plane to come down here. It was the last time I’d have to grudgingly pack my suitcases that have been beaten more than cake batter. With one wobbly wheel and an unlucky zipper, this would be the last time I feel my heart strings tighten as I watch the love of my life pull the car away from the curb without me.

On my flight today I sat with headphones blazing silly songs while I gazed out over the Earth below as it swept away beneath me. I embraced deep profound thoughts that stirred wildly in my head. What’s the next big thing? Am I slowly anchoring up the big hill on the rollercoaster of life, bracing for the fast, steep drop that’s just over sight? Or am I already on that ninety degree drop, screaming straight down, the wind whipping my face with great force? Has the ride just begun or am I still strapped in waiting for ejection from the platform? Or better yet, is life one big amusement park and I’m going from attraction to attraction and getting in line for the next big ride?

When one is asked where she sees herself in five years, one must sit back and take all that time into account. That’s half of a decade to live in the prime of one’s life. Five years to get on the fast track to success. One thousand eight hundred twenty-five days to go. Forty three thousand eight hundred hours, long hours to work through. Two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand minutes to use for one’s well being.

What does a girl do with all that time?

To put those five years to waste would be an awful shame. What one can do with so much time is breath taking. The possibilities are just about endless.

In five years, you can step outside of your comfort zone and jump right back in. You can travel from home, get lost and weary on an unknown road, and somehow stumble back bruised and battered. Time can get away from you and you learn the true impossibility of lasso’ing it back. Love can find you in the most unsuspected places and change your life forever. You can fear for its escape and long for its return. Mistakes can be made that you never thought you’d make. You can experience enough pain to appreciate what happiness you’re blessed with.

I wasn’t quite sure where I was going to go with this entry tonight. I suppose it’s more of a ramble than anything else.

Looking back several months ago on an entry I made where I included all of my goals for the next year, I have to chuckle. Things can change so quickly. I wrote in my goals for August that I would graduate and then go on to travel after graduation. Then in a blog shortly sometime after that I wrote about how I needed a break and I would take the summer off. At the time of that entry I was neither perplexed nor worried about having to stay till December for graduation, but in a blink of an eye, that all changed again. I took my break where I took full advantage of studying abroad and di some traveling I’ve been aching to do for quite some time. I was able to relax at home for over 2 weeks after that and now, here I am, right back on track and propelling forward to graduation as planned in August.

I feel accomplished. I feel inspired. I feel very much ready to rock and roll!

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Five Things

Happy Friday Everyone,

It’s one of those days. The sun is shining, it’s warm, and I’m about to take the bike out for a ride around the neighborhood. Being able to do that always use to be the official kick off to summer for me, so that’s what I’m going to do.

But first…I got this idea from Cupcakes and Cashmere and I think it’s a great way to remind yourself about all the things in your life that can make you so happy by just looking at them.

Celine Dion Timepiece

My amazing boyfriend bought me this Celine Dion watch and gave it to me after being gone in Europe for over 5 weeks. When I returned we were very close to our anniversary and I had my eye on this for over 6 months. I absolutely adore it.

100% Pure Silk Scarf from Italy

While in Europe there was only one thing I bought myself on the entire trip! It was this pure silk scarf that has a bridle, reins, hunter helmet, and a crop printed on it. I loved it for it’s horse theme and that it will go wonderfully with my Dooney and Bourke bag. Wearing scarves is the “in” thing over there so I stopped in a scarf shop in Siena, Italy and found this.

Reserve Champion and First Place Ribbons

Walking into my room and seeing all of my horse ribbons hang on the ribbon rack and on my wall just put a smile on my face. They remind me about the amazing experiences I had with my mare while we were showing in the jumping ring. She and I were a real team back in the day and I miss that immensely. I can only hope to get back to that one day in the future after I graduate.

Justin Cowgirl Boots

This picture is pretty self explanitory, but there is nothing like a hot summer day and wearing these with my favorite pair of cut-off jean shorts.


And last, but not least….my special needs kitty, Malibu. She is such a gem in my family and we are more blessed to have her than the other way around, I think. What a gift to be able to rescue her and help her live a normal life. She makes me smile when she looks at me with those big cat eyes.

Have a wonderful weekend!

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