Jack (the horse) is 28 years old and instead of putting him in a turnout pen during the day we just let him roam the property. He usually sticks around the barn, grazing or just standing around. But his favorite thing to do is lay down in various random spots that he feels are comfortable. Every morning after they drag the arena footing he goes and flops down in the soft dirt. Whenever we get a new shipment of shavings you better believe Jack is right there rolling in them once the truck leaves.
This was one of his ground-softness-testings. The aisle is all rubber so it’s not hard but I doubt it was very comfortable. Jack would beg to differ.
this makes the picture 100x better. what a happy old man.
This post has by far the highest amount of notes out of all my posts so I figured it would be something that I should post a follow up on. My trainer, Jack’s owner, posted this on Facebook today and I wanted to share it with you all.
I lost a friend because I want to dye my hair “gay liberal colors” (her words) and it sent her on a homophobic tirade. If that’s not a summary of 2017 idk what is.
Guess who is definitely dying their hair “gay liberal colors” next week?
Someone else she estranged herself from has donated to the cause. 7 colors of the rainbow en route to my house so I can really gay it up.
She is now blaming my queer ass for the country’s deficit, ruining the sanctity of marriage, and threatening to sue me for defamation over this post.
I am about to RUIN CHRISTMAS!
Divided my hair like I’ve divided this country!
Now I’ve gone and done it!
Reblog if you have your hair a gay liberal color, if you’ve caused your country’s deficit or if you just want to piss off a homophobe ✌
It’s not love, Dean swears, it isn’t. It’s just preference, right now, that’s all. Dean just likes him the most. Likes to be near him. Likes the smell of his shampoo, likes it when his phone rings and it’s Castiel on the line, but that’s not love, Dean would know.
Not love, not yet. It’s not love, it’s just the way things are just better when he’s near, a part of things, a part of Dean’s everyday routine. His name there, filling up every line, every page in Dean’s book of days. Taking the remote out of Sam’s hands to change the channel or kneeling close at Dean’s side after a fight, it’s not love but it’s close, it hits home right in the center of Dean’s chest whenever he turns his head and finds Castiel smiling at him, just at him and nobody else – that’s not love, though. Dean would know.
If there was ever gonna be anybody for him, someone for Dean to take home and say finders keepers, he thinks it really might be Castiel – but it’s not love, just something like it. Something that looks like love, sometimes; something that sounds like love and tastes like love and feels just like it but it’s not love, Dean’s not stupid. He tells himself it’s not love because he’d know. It’s not love because Dean knows what love feels like, and this isn’t it: Love is oiled brakes and love is dinner made from scratch and love is watching someone’s back as they walk away without a single glance behind, and so this can’t be love, Dean knows it’s not because it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t burn, it doesn’t leave him strung out and hung over the next morning.
This isn’t love.
Whatever it is, it isn’t much. Just golden light creeping across the kitchen floor in the late morning and pouring Castiel a second cup of coffee, it’s just warm hands resting on the crook of his elbow to help him stand up, it’s not like love at all. It’s not what he remembers. It’s not a love he knows.
But there are signs – the flowers on the kitchen table that Castiel left there for him. Castiel’s shoes left in the doorway of the library, laces untied. The way he nods off in the front seat of the car with his shoulder against Castiel’s sometimes, when it’s four in the morning and Cas says he’ll drive for a while. He likes that Castiel’s dark hair curls against the back of his neck, he likes to look at the bare slice of skin just under Castiel’s left ear. That’s not love, is it? Dean can’t tell, can’t be sure. It’s not the final sum, the grand total of everything they are and are not to each other, it’s just part of the equation. Dean tells himself that If this was love he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. If this was love, he’d be singing love songs at two thirty a.m. along with the radio, he’d be doing ninety down the highway just to match the pace of his heart.
But sometimes he’ll sit there watching Castiel, with his arm thrown back over the arm of the couch watching This Old House, and he allows to himself – it might be, one day, if something ever changes, if Dean ever gets the courage – it’s not love, he knows, he knows. Just something like it.
Please show support for Terry while he and his family are being targeted by WME, the multibillion dollar company that protects the man who assaulted him!
He claims they have hacked his computer and are stalking his family, and that if he has an “untimely accident” that we “know where to look.”
Terry is standing up as a survivor and is taking seriously dangerous heat, even the LAPD explicitly told him “these people do not play fair.” Imagine that from the damn LAPD… if they’re calling it foul play then it’s far more serious than people realize.
If you live in Austin, Texas or it’s surrounding areas please do not open any packages that you are not expecting. Do not even touch them.
If you did not order anything and nobody else did. Or if the package seems to be odd. Call your local police department and report that there is a unidentified package at your home and ask for assistance with it.
There have been 3 package bombings in Austin so far. One on March 3rd and two of them today(3/12/18). There are 3 reported deaths and one injury. These bombs are detonated via movement and opening and were believed to be placed at night.
Due to the fact that all 3 houses that were targeted were people of color (first two victims were black and the third was latinx) it is possible that this could be the results of a hate crime, however the reasons and culprits have not yet been found.
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