What Else Is A Half-Breed To Do?

Today I was at work for quite a while, and even though it wasn't hard or even stressful, it made me realize how much I hate being in an office of any sort. My desk is in the far corner of the newsroom, giving me some privacy and a view of everyone--it's nice, because I'm a people-watcher. But it's still inside, under fluorescent lights, in front of a computer screen.

I drove like a bat out of hell to the barn because I really, really needed to go out riding. I think it's genetic. I like to think of my great-great-great-relatives two hundred years ago going out on their horses. Some day I'd love to just get on Topper, have a backpack of food and a lighter, and just for out for a few weeks. It'd be hard to do these days. I yearn for open land with no fencing and no people. Does anyone have a teepee they could give me? The Boy Scouts are the only ones who use them these days, I think.

The barn is nice because it's out on the other side of Lake Worth, to the northwest of Fort Worth, out of the city enough that there's plenty of open space and houses have acres instead of yards. The highway is the best way out there, so the drive is pretty painless and when you drive back you can see Fort Worth laid out before you in the dark, all the lights on and sparkling in the little valley. It reminds me of when we lived in Albuquerque.

When in the throes of wanderlust, it's hard to be in a newsroom. Even being in the car on the way to the barn was better--just cruising with Billy Joel on the cd player. I am a dork. And I love singing very, very loudly to his songs. Screw you if you have bad taste in music. What else was I supposed to do but get my work done and split for the day out to where Texas is till Texas and not a metropolis?