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Welcome to Serenity Farms
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Admin: Psylentia
Co-Admin: Missy
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Welcome To Serenity Farms
Serenity Farms is one of many horse farms in the county, but SF is internationally known for outstanding horses and riders. Not only a breeding farm of several different horse breeds, SF is an equestrian facility. They teach those interested in wanting to compete in shows and mainly make horses their life.
The first generation of Hawthorne's left seven sons behind to run the farm. Each are very skilled and talented equestrian riders winning many awards and they are well known in the horse world.
This is a RPG for humans and horses, you may make a rider, worker at the farm, a resident of the farm or town, and/or even a horse!
Please be sure to read the rules, plot and make your profile before role-playing. You do NOT need to be accepted to role-play. Thank you for joining! Enjoy and have fun!
Jake was on his deathbed while his wife, Becky, maintained a steady vigil by his side. As she held his fragile hand, her warm tears ran silently down her face, splashed onto his, and roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to quiver with sound.
"My darling Becky," he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Go back to sleep Shhh! Don't talk."
But he was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice. "I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you."
"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky. "It's all right. Everything's all right, go to sleep now."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I slept with your sister, your best friend and our next door neighbor."
Becky mustered a pained smile and stroked his hand. "Hush now Jake, don't torment yourself. I know all about it," she said. "Why do you think I poisoned you?"
My cooking has always been the target of family jokes. One evening, as I prepared dinner a bit too quickly, the kitchen filled with smoke and the smoke detector went off. Although both of my children had received fire-safety training at school, they did not respond to the alarm. Annoyed, I stormed through the house in search of them.
I found them in the bathroom, washing their hands. Over the loud buzzing of the smoke alarm, I asked them to identify the sound.
"It's the smoke detector," they replied in unison.
Three young women are at a cocktail party. The conversation turns to their position in life and it's clear that they are trying to one-up each other.
The first one says, "My husband is taking me to the French Riviera for two weeks on vacation," and then looks at the others with a superior demeanor.
The second one says, "Well, my husband just bought me a new Mercedes," and looks about with considerable pride.
Number three says, "Well, to be perfectly honest with you, we don't have much money and we don't have any material possessions. However, one thing I can tell you about my husband is that thirteen canaries can stand shoulder to shoulder on his erect penis."
After this, the first one looks shamefaced and says, "Girls, I've got a confession to make. I was just trying to impress you. You know that vacation I was telling you about? Well, it's not to the French Riviera, it's to my parents house for two weeks."
The second one says, "Your honesty has shamed me. It's not a Mercedes, he bought me a Plymouth."
"Well," the third one says, "I also have a confession to make, canary number thirteen has to stand on one leg!"
True Forgiveness « Result #9 on Feb 23, 2009, 1:57am »
Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance. I have duly forgotten the name of an old lady who was a customer on my paper route when I was a twelve-year-old boy in Marinette, Wisconsin back in 1954. wow power leveling Yet it seems like just yesterday that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I can only hope to pass on to someone else someday.
On a mindless Saturday afternoon, wow gold, a friend and I were throwing rocks onto the roof of the old lady’s house from a secluded spot in her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the rocks changed to missiles as they rolled to the roof’s edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky.
I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and sent it for a ride. The stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight for a small window on the old lady’s back porch. At the sound of fractured glass,wow power leveling we took off from the old lady’s yard faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.
I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken porch window. However, a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn’t been discovered, I started to feel guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.
I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money, and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window.wow power leveling I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.
I waited until it was dark, snuck up to the old lady’s house, and put the envelope of retribution through the letter slot in her door. My soul felt redeemed and I couldn’t wait for the freedom of, once again, looking straight into the old lady’s eyes.
The next day, wow gold I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper and said, “Here, I have something for you.” It was a bag of cookies. I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.
After several cookies,wow gold I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag. When I opened the envelope, I was stunned. Inside was the seven dollars and a short note that said, “I’m proud of you.”
From the time each of my children started school, wow power leveling,I packed their lunches. And in each lunch I packed, I included a note. Often written on a napkin, the note might be a thank you for a special moment, a reminder of something we were happily anticipating, or a bit of encouragement for an upcoming test or sporting event. In early grade school they loved their notes-they commented on them after school, and when I went back to teaching, wow power leveling,they even put notes in my lunches. But as kids grow older they become self?conscious, and by the time he reached high school, my older son, Marc, informed me he no longer needed my daily missives. Informing him that they had been written as much for me as for him, and that he no longer needed to read them but I still needed to write them, I continued the tradition until the day he graduated.
Six years after high school graduation, Marc called and asked if he could move home for a couple of months. He had spent those years well, graduating Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude from college, completing two congressional internships in Washington, wow power leveling,D.C., winning the Jesse Marvin Unruh Fellowship to the California State Legislature, and finally, becoming a legislative assistant in Sacramento. Other than short vacation visits, however, he had lived away from home. With his younger sister leaving for college, I was especially thrilled to have Marc coming home.
A couple weeks after Marc arrived home to rest, regroup and write for a while, he was back at work-he had been recruited to do campaign work. Since I was still making lunch every day for his younger brother, wow gold,I packed one for Marc, too. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from my 24?year?old son, complaining about his lunch.
"Did I do something wrong? Aren't I still your kid? Don't you love me any more, wow gold,Mom?" were just a few of the queries he threw at me as I laughingly asked him what was wrong.
"My note, Mom," he answered. "Where's my note?"
This year my youngest son will be a senior in high school. He, too, has now announced that he is too old for notes. But like his older brother and sister before him,wow gold,he will receive those notes till the day he graduates-and in whatever lunches I pack for him afterwards.
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