Piddler at Heart

No Bake Cookies

2011-09-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

Luke is in his senior year at Miami and in his first apartment and he is learning how to cook. He requested this recipe, one of he and Tim's favorites. The trick to getting these to set up is to follow the instructions to boil rapidly for one minute. I set the timer for this because under-cooking means they won't set up and over-cooking means they'll be turn hard as rocks when cool. It also helps to let the goop cool a little in the pan before dropping onto the cookie sheet.

NO BAKE COOKIES

1/2 cup butter
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup milk
3 T. cocoa

Cook these four ingredients together in heavy saucepan, stirring constantly, bring to rapid boil for one minute. Remove from heat and add:

1/2 cup peanut butter (stir in until smooth)
And 3 cups oats (I always have the old-fashioned, whole oats on hand, but I grind them a little bit before adding them.)

Stir all together until mixture is uniform, let cool a minute or two in pan, then drop by teaspoon onto cookie sheet.

Snog wins second in National Finals

2010-09-21T20:37:00.000-07:00

The Hee-Haw Gang is heading to Florida

2010-08-01T20:27:00.000-07:00

The USA Beach Volleyball Junior National Finals tournament is turning into an excuse for my family to descend upon the Sunshine State at the end of this month. Me, Tim, Logan, Tyler, Grandma Rose, Poppy, great-niece Courtney, sister Joanie with her boyfriend Michael, niece Erin and boyfriend Ronnie, and I'm in the process of convincing Luke to leave camp a little early and join us. His brother's in the Junior National Finals, for crying out loud. Luke needs to be there leading the cheering section.

Logan is working out like a madman.

We are excited.

Grand

2010-07-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

The passing of Grand today feels like the end of the era where my kids and the neighbor kids were little and the horses in our pastures were dog-like pets and best friends.

It was the best of times.

Summer

2010-07-17T13:23:00.000-07:00

Our flower beds are abuzz with butterflies, hummingbirds, and a variety of bees.

Tee Shirts

2010-07-01T07:10:00.000-07:00

My neighbor girl told me her mom has this tee shirt:
REHAB is for quitters.

Another one I like:
Mess with me, mess with the whole trailer park.

Got any other good ones?

Failed

2010-06-29T09:11:00.001-07:00

Loading Darby on the trailer today: Failed.

I had been loading him nearly every day since the last show because loading him after that show became a humiliating fiasco. Many nice strangers helped me with that, especially a lovely dark-haired woman who introduced herself, mid-struggle, as Martina. About the time I was ready to give up and try again later, a woman stuck her head around the corner of the trailer and said, "Can I help?" Martina said to me, "Now we'll get him loaded." I wondered, who is this person?

The new arrival said, "I'm going to take him away from the trailer and work with him for a minute." I turned the lead-rope over to her. She led Darby a little way out behind the trailer and began walking and stopping him. She carried a dressage whip and when he did not respond to her, she tapped him with it. Tap, tap, tap, until she received the response she wanted. Then she led him to the trailer and handed me the end of the lead rope. I was in the trailer, she behind, still tapping with the whip.

I'm not going to say Darby walked right in--there was constant tapping and a couple of times where he ran backwards until he hit the end of the lead rope and had to be urged forward again. But within five minutes he was on the trailer with the door closed behind him. I ducked out the people door at the front of the trailer.

"Thank you so much," I said to my savior. I stuck out my hand and told her my name. "Sue Black," she said in response, shaking my hand. She shook her head. "Two-year-old stallions," she said. "You got to get in their heads and convince them that you're the leader."

So since that day, a little over a month ago, I have been feeding Darby his breakfast on the trailer and last week we went to our second show and came home with no problem. Then Tim needed the truck over the weekend so I haven't loaded Darby for four days and this morning he wasn't having any of it. I tried to begin where we had left off, with him going in the trailer without me going in first. Why am I so stupid? He kept backing up. So then I began go with that program and shanked him backward. Then we get to the place where he won't even walk up to the trailer and I realize we have really gone backward, in space and in training, and I'm thinking Oh shit how could I be so stupid.

So I ease Darby up to the trailer, thankful that I have taught him to target on my hand. One tentative step at a time he works with me and I am so grateful that he is giving me this and that I haven't totally screwed him up. We get up to the door of the trailer and I walk in, up to where his breakfast is. I stand next to his bowl and lean toward him, putting out my hand for him to target on. He leans forward and touches my hand, then puts one front foot in the trailer, then two, target again, then the left hind leg, then the right. He takes a bite of his grain then backs off the trailer.

We do it again, target, walk, target, walk, back to basics. He gets on and off the trailer four times, the last time his bowl is empty and I pick it up and carry it off the trailer with us. We return to the barn. I am contrite and humbled. I put Darby in cross-ties and begin brushing him. He loves being brushed more than any horse I've worked with; he stands very still except for leaning into the brushing. I brush for a long time, working for his forgiveness which he gives much too easily.

When will I learn? Basics, stupid, basics. When you get in trouble you have to go back to the basics.

Logan volleyball highlights

2010-06-25T20:51:00.000-07:00

Darby's First Show

2010-05-23T15:53:00.000-07:00

(Photo by Bob Tarr Photography)

Darby went to his first breed show last week. He was the Grand Champion Colt/Gelding and the Reserve Champion Young Horse.

Most important, he behaved himself admirably in the show ring and effortlessly exhibited his lovely trot. Strangers kept coming up to me and asking about him and complimenting his beauty and conformation.

It is so cool to finally have my dream horse after struggling all those years with an off-the-track Thoroughbred. It's as if the horse-gods held a meeting at which they decided to quit screwing with me and said, "Yeah, let's send her an easy horse this time."

Vegetable Serendipity

2010-05-20T10:50:00.000-07:00

Lest I squirm here under false pretenses, let me begin by saying that I am the world's laziest gardener. Once I chuck a plant into the ground, it's on its own to grow and thrive and bloom or get yanked out. I don't put up with dawdlers or divas. So imagine my surprise, as a recent convert to growing vegetables, to find out that edibles are the hands down easiest group of plants to grow of anything I've ever grown. These plants are determined to live, determined to bear fruit and scatter the seeds of the next generation.

Here's what no-one told me about growing vegetables: Many of them come back the next year.

I've been harvesting leaf lettuce for more than a month now. However, I didn't plant lettuce this year. Or last year. Two years ago, in March, I sprinkled a packet of leaf lettuce seeds into a bare spot in one of my flower beds. In about two weeks I had a little salad. And for the next six or eight weeks, I had more lettuce than I knew what to do with (luckily, we love salad at my house). Then spring turned to summer and the lettuce went to seed. Being the lazy gardener I am, I pulled up the lettuce plants and laid them where they grew so they could decompose and go back to being dirt. The following spring, Voila! as soon as the snow melted, there was lettuce. This year, same thing. We are living on salad right now and it is good.

Last year, where I had onions, I have onions again. I don't know what's happening below ground but I've been cutting the green onion tops for about six weeks and using them to flavor everything. I have carrots I wasn't expecting; tomato plants, bean plants, and several plants that could be either pumpkin, cucumber, or cantelope that have come back with no help from me. Last year I had broccoli come back but haven't seen any yet this year.

I expected the asparagus and was not disappointed. The roses in the photo are just for showing off. We are having English weather this spring and the roses are phenomenal.

I used to be intimidated by growing a garden. All the gardens I saw were meticulous with their lines made straight with string and their littles mounds for certain plants and all this lore that did not get passed down to me. But then I started, one or two seed packets at a time, most of them scattered among my perennial flower beds.
Since then, it's been vegetable serendipity.

Parrotheads

2010-05-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

So we arrived at the Jimmy Buffett concert on a damp chilly evening:

Yeah, a little straight-laced group of domesticated Parrotheads. Notice, especially, Logan:

Not quite so tame as the rest of us, Joanie and Erin were looking dorgeous and getting their tropical groove on:

So we're just standing around, people watching all the over-the-top Parrotheads and the wastoids and jamming with Jimmy and then this twenty-something-year-old girl ran past us. She pushed in between me and Tim, hopped over the coat heaped on the ground without breaking stride and raced up the hill behind us.

She was followed by a distraught drunk who shoved me out of his way as he chased her, tripped over the coat and lost his grass skirt, his awesome parrothead hat, and apparently his underwear, because as he scrabbled away on all fours, all we could see of him was his bare butt. After he fled away and we quit laughing, we picked up his skirt and his hat, and thus Logan was initiated into Parrotheaddom:

Logan, me, at end of concert:

A good time was had by most.

(Dude, we've got your stuff!)

Litany of Learning

2010-05-06T10:38:00.000-07:00

Our weather has been perfect for working with horses and Darby and I have been busy. There are so many things a young horse has to learn, such as:

Standing in crossties
Picking up his feet for me.
Picking up his feet for the farrier (seems like this would be the same, but it is not.)
Loading on the trailer.
Being okay with Buckles going away from the barn.
Being okay with going away from Buckles.
Leading at the walk. And whoa. Whoa is good.
Leading at the trot without dancing on the leader.
Having someone stand on a chair next to you.
Having someone stand on a chair and band your mane.
Having someone stand on a chair and lay across your back.
Having someone jump from chair up onto your back.
Wearing a saddle.
Wearing a saddle and discovering that putting your head down to eat grass makes the girth tighten around belly.
Discovering that crow-hopping does not help tight girth problem.
Discovering that grass is too good to worry very long.
Learning hoses are not snakes.
Learning baths are annoying but not painful.
Learning baths while eating grass are worth it.
Finding out crossties are good for holding your head while sleeping.
Realizing ribbons seem scary at first:

But finding once again that Mr. Buckles can make it all better:

Darby goes to his first breed show next Thursday. He will be shown in-hand at the walk and trot and judged on his conformation and his movement. I am thinking positive and thus fully expect him to be the grand champion and be festoomed with a ribbon such as my home-made version that we have been practicing with. Can you tell it's Christmas ribbon?

We have done a lot of neat things and a lot of learning has taken place. Most days I forget who is the teacher and who is the student. He is so smart and willing and he eats up attention and every day I learn how easy it is to teach a horse who was bred to be smart and who has been well-handled since birth and not only trusts but genuinely likes people.

I'm writing all this today because I want to remember that today was the day I first hopped all the way up on to Darby's back, swung my other leg over, and sat astraddle him. For two weeks or so, I've been getting him used to the chair in his stall, then me standing on the chair, then me leaning over his back, and then me hopping a little onto his back so my weight was on him. Every step of the way he has been curious but calm so today I just hopped up, swung my leg over, and sat there petting him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and slid down. I did this four times, two from the right, two from the left. It did not bother him at all.

He is awesome.

Passions

2010-05-03T21:12:00.001-07:00

Luke posted this as his status on Facebook the other day: "Nothing has ever seemed bigger, more interesting, more challenging, or more exciting than music does to me right now."

Logan's Facebook is peppered with the word volleyball followed by several exclamation points.

We had a weekend in which we saw Luke sing and play the piano in a terrific concert at Miami University on Saturday.

On Sunday we watched Logan play volleyball with some A and Open players. He looked like he belonged there, and he won his games.

Luke and Logan were raised in the same house, with the same piano and the same volleyball court. Luke plays a little volleyball but he is passionate about music. Logan plays a little music on the piano (and guitar and bass) but he is passionate about volleyball.

Clearly, passion is a prerequisitie to excelling at something. But where does passion come from? What makes one kid passionate about one thing and another kid passionate about something else, even though they had the same opportunity?

I'm still thinking about those questions but here is one thing I know for sure: throwing themselves whole-heartedly into their passions is a source of great happiness and satisfaction for both of my sons.

And watching them throw themselves into their passions is amazing for me and Tim. It is the best thing we could have ever wished for them.

Birds of a Feather

2010-04-13T20:07:00.000-07:00

My Uncle Larry and Aunt Alice recently retired to Panama. They are Jehovah's Witnesses; they moved to a place in the mountains of Panama where there is a Kingdom Hall and an active community of other Witnesses. But they were home last week so we met up for lunch.

Alice, my cousin Shawn, Larry, me, Mom, Poppy

Uncle Larry and Aunt Alice (for Luke and Logan: Larry is G. Rose's brother.)

After lunch, Logan and I headed to the Raptor Center at Yellow Springs to meet up with my brother who was picking up 'his' owl. Two weeks ago, my brother and this owl "hit each other" (as my brother says) and the owl suffered a broken wing. Michael contacted the Raptor Center and they took the bird in and rehabbed him and needed Michael to release him where he found him because the owl knew that territory and probably had a mate there.

The friendly staff at the Raptor Center removed the owl from his box for a photo session.

A full-grown screech owl. His eyes look funny because they are not made for bright sun.

The Raptor Center is at Glen Helen Preserve just outside the village of Yellow Springs. A very small, very cool place. All the birds on the premises were injured in some fashion. The goal is to rehab and release but some birds are too seriously injured to ever return to the wild. This is a red-tailed hawk sitting on three eggs. Her mate was perched above her in the pen.

A bald eagle at the Raptor Center.

Easter Queen

2010-04-10T18:57:00.000-07:00

Only a week late posting these photos from Easter. Mom and Poppy returned home from Florida just in time for Easter so we had dinner at my house. Mom made me a belated birthday cake and brought out the Birthday Tiara for me. So I was the Easter Queen:

Mom and Poppy:

Tim had his new toy all spiffed up and parked in the yard. He couldn't wait to show it to Poppy:

Logan and the hole he dug for himself:

We didn't make Logan dig ditches on Easter but this is how he spent the day before Easter. He dug out the pipe between the water hydrant and the horse's automatic waterer to try to find the leak so I can have water at the barn again. And glory be, he found it and repairs will be undertaken soon.

Whatever writing time I have I end up spending on my book (page 222!) instead of my blog, but life rolls on at the Piddler's.

Walking machine

2010-01-07T20:23:00.001-08:00

The very best thing about the laptop computer Tim got me for Christmas is the shelf he built across the treadmill so I can walk while I mess around on-line and write my book. I am a walking machine.

I have walked about five miles a day nearly every day since my shelf was built (two days after Christmas). I was reading about other Office Walkers and they all say they walk about 1 MPH. I started out thinking I was going to walk very slowly but when I walk that slow, it makes me feel as if I am pushing the treadmill and my knees begin to hurt. I find I don't have any trouble typing when I walk up to 3 MPH so I am usually in that range (and a little faster if I am just cruisin' the internet).

Click here to go to the site that inspired me to have a treadmill desk and to see photos of a wide variety of treadmill desk designs.

Here's one more photo of my shelf to show how simple it is - just a board we had in the barn, cut to fit across the arms of the treadmill. The shelf is attached on both sides with a U-bolt (my jar is leaning against the uprights of the U) and there is a small strip of trim across the front of the shelf to keep my stuff from sliding off the front (because the shelf leans a little to the front). Extremely simple, terrifically useful.

(Oh, and check out my horse butt boxers from my fellow horse-nut friend, Sue. It's obvious I did not get myself dolled up for this photo shoot.)

Santa visits

2009-12-26T18:49:00.000-08:00

Cory meets Santa and Cory believes.

Trixie believes in anyone who might pet her.

Cory nearly melts down when his sister tells Santa that he had been naughty.

Chris, Carlena, Cory, Santa, Cameron, Courtney

Cory gives Santa the lowdown on Courtney's naughty behavior.

Our own Christmas Madonna and baby.

Christmas Parade

2009-12-20T17:39:00.001-08:00

I've been neglecting my blog because I'm working on a book but before the holidays are over, I wanted to post photos from my town's recent Christmas Parade.

From left to right: Shelley, Haley, me.

Left to right: John, Shelley, Veronica, me, Sydney, Haley, and that's Emma in back.

We went from the Christmas parade to the Christmas show and it was a blast all around. The only drawback is feeling like I'm so far behind on my own Christmas stuff and the big day's coming up fast.

But I wouldn't have missed the parade and the show for the world.

The Darby Diaries - Equine WWF

2009-11-10T19:01:00.000-08:00

We are having Indian summer in Ohio - perfect clear crisp days with temperatures in the 60s. Every morning, I look out my windows and this is what I see: the Equine World Wrestling Federation.

Gentlemen, take your corner. (It makes me laugh that they hold their games in the little arena instead of in their four acre pasture.)

Ding ding ding!

Rear up, bare your teeth, and look really ferocious but make sure no-one gets hurt.

The referee (Buckles) is forced to break it up before it gets out of hand.

Passage is the only way to express feeling this alive and manly. (Darby)

When the mornings are this lovely, you just gotta gallop. (Darby)

(I took these photos from inside the house. I tried on several mornings to go outside and take photos but the second they heard me coming they went to their stalls for breakfast.)

writing my book

2009-11-05T10:27:00.000-08:00

Logan and I are sick today. He's playing his guitar (working on the song Vanilla Twilight) and I am working on my book.

I just told him what it's like to write a book.

I said, "I go back and forth between thinking it's a heartbreaking work of staggering genius to thinking it's the most boring drivel ever put on a page."

He said, "I don't think you're capable of writing the most boring drivel ever put on a page." (Bless you my son.)

Then I said, "I'll be tooling along on a scene, thinking, wow, I'm really developing this character and then my saboteur voice goes, 'Hey, when's something gonna happen here already?" (I don't know why this voice has a Cliffy Claven Boston accent, but it does.)

Logan chuckled at my angst and went back to playing his guitar.

That's what's happening at my house today.

Lovely October

2009-11-01T15:54:00.000-08:00

It has been a fun, eventful month.

Carlena's new baby was born: Cory, Chris, baby Cameron, Carlena, Courtney

Joanie was here to see the new baby. Here she is trying to relax on the couch and talk on the phone but Trixie and Black Jack think she sat down to pet them. Everbody loves Aunt Joanie.

Last night, we went to our local pub's Halloween party. I went as Sarah P. and Tim and our neighbor Paul went as my Secret Service dudes. They played their roles to the hilt. We drove there in Paul's big black SUV, pulled up to the curb beside the bar, Tim and Paul got out and "secured the area" while a crowd of people waiting to go in looked on with interest. Then they opened my door and helped me out and the waiting crowd got it immediately. I pretended they were all there for my fundraiser so I shook a lot of hands.

It was very fun - whether they love Sarah or hate her, everyone wanted to talk to her (me) last night. Oh, and Sarah, I did my best on the dance floor to ruin (or improve?) your reputation in my county.

Security getting friendly with the locals.

Sarah P. meets Octomom (and kisses eight babies).

It was too much fun and a great end to a great month.

Homecoming

2009-10-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

Logan and Haley at Homecoming

The Darby Diaries - Life is good

2009-10-06T20:16:00.001-07:00

When my neighbor friend, Libby, a horse-crazy twelve-year old, spotted Speckles and I coming home from a trail ride the other day, she trotted (on foot) up behind us. I haven't seen her much since school started and volleyball at our house ended for the season. She had something she wanted to tell me.

She was out of breath. She said hello to Speckles and patted his nose. Speckles likes Libby and he likes any reason to stop, even if we are almost home, so he was happy to stand there on the road.

I said, "How's school?"

"Good," she said. "I had to write an essay on 'Life is Good' so I wrote five paragraphs on Speckles, Buckles, and Darby."

(Libby and Speckles, 2007)

She followed us back to the barn. While I finished up with Speckles, Libby hung around, talking to me and petting Darby, who was hanging his head outside his stall hoping for attention. Libby patted him, talked to me, talked to him, picked up stray bits of hay and gave them to him.

It was only later that I realized how wonderful Darby's behavior had been. There was no fussing - no pushy head nodding, no lips or teeth, nothing. You would have thought she was petting a trustworthy old gelding.

Darby is not gelded. I would like to keep him uncut for at least another year. His dad is being ridden by Courtney King-Dye and she is going to try to qualify him for next summer's World Equestrian Games in Lexington. If his dad would do well in Kentucky, I think his owners will aim him towards the 2012 Olympics. If any of this comes to pass, Darby's value as a stallion could be huge. But I will only keep him a stallion as long as he is safe and pleasant and easy to be around. I'm not brave and I have crappy insurance.

I've been studying on this, trying to figure out which of his behaviors stem from being a colt and which behaviors stem from being a yearling. I have worked with horses for more than twenty years but Darby is the first stallion I have handled and trained alone. (There were a lot of little kids around here when Speckles was born so he was gelded as soon as both testicles dropped.)

Thinking about it though, I remember some two-year-old uncut horses who were in training at a Standardbred barn where I worked. They were handled daily - groomed, tacked up, hooked to a racing cart, exercised, bathed, cooled out, etc. I don't remember ever feeling scared or even uncomfortable around them. But Standardbreds, in my experience (the ones at the two barns I worked at, anyway) are pretty laid back horses. On the other hand, I once worked at a Thoroughbred barn where two-year-olds of all three sexual persuasions were beginning their racing training and they were the scariest horses I have ever been around. This was no slacker barn. The trainer I worked for was, at that time, my state's winningest Thoroughbred trainer. But the horses were nightmares. They had only rudimentary handling and they were fed rations intended to make them, let's say, peppy. To take them out of their stalls required a chain over their noses and you used that chain constantly to pull them down out of their peppy rearing. Constantly. I only lasted at that barn for three months. It was too nerve-wracking.

So I have been studying Darby, trying to assign a cause to his behaviors, most of all his lippiness. I ask myself, does he do this because he's young? Or maybe it's a Warmblood thing (he's my first Warmblood). Or is it a stallion thing? But now I know what it is - or was. It was an untrained thing. Because after three months of daily handling, of clicker-training, (and of twice being shanked with the lead rope when I felt his teeth) it is nearly extinct. I use the modifier nearly because it's too soon to say just extinct.

________________________________________________________________

The other day I was out in the barn after the horses had their dinner. The pen gate was open but the horses hadn't gone out to pasture yet. They were hanging around in their stalls, seeming to want something from me even though they had had their dinner. I petted them and then I began doing 'the claw.' You know, you make your hand into a claw and bring it down on your victim's face while growling "It's the claw!" like in a bad horror movie. I know, I know, but everyone here loves it - the horses, Trixie, even Logan, who at sixteen sometimes will snuggle with me and say, "Do the claw."

So I was doing the claw, grabbing (gently) the horses' muzzles and making horror movie noises. When I started playing with them, Darby was in one of the end stalls. He left his stall and walked into the middle stall with Speckles, putting himself in between Buckles and Speckles where he would, literally, be the center of attention. It was sweet and fun and telling, to me, of the progress Darby and I have made.

Libby was here playing volleyball that evening in July when Darby arrived. He was snorting scared about this new place he found himself in - new people, new barn, new horses to find his place with. That Darby from three months ago is different from the horse Libby petted over the stall gate on Saturday. This older Darby is a confident, maturing horse who is beginning to understand the language of training.

Momma's Soup

2009-10-04T20:19:00.000-07:00

One of the things I cooked for Luke when he was down with the Wisdom Teeth Blues was this:

Momma's soup

potatoes (about one per person or a little less)
corn (fresh, canned, frozen, creamed - it doesn't matter)
leftover vegetables - cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, peas, mashed potatoes, whatever
broth of some sort - canned chicken or beef, the juice off of roasts that you've kept frozen for soup-making, or bouillon. The more broth you have, the more flavorful the soup will be.
diced ham
celery, cut up
onion, diced
milk
salt and pepper to taste

In your soup pot, put on about 1 or 2 cups of water to boil. Peel and dice a couple of potatoes (one per person is a good guess) Then cut up whatever vegetables you have in your refrigerator. The ones I like in this are broccoli and cauliflower and corn (and leftover mashed potatoes make a great thickener.) Carrots and peas would be good too. Cut all up and add to the boiling water with the diced potatoes. These need to cook until no longer crunchy as this is the only boiling they will get because you can't boil it after adding the milk and/or cream corn or it will separate.

While saucepan is simmering, heat some oil in a skillet and fry the celery and onions until they are soft (this isn't strictly necessary as they could go straight into the boiling water to soften but frying them adds more flavor). When they are soft and beginning to brown, add them to the simmering saucepan. In same skillet, fry the ham until most of the water cooks off of it. (Or not, if you don't want to.)

Put the ham in with all of the vegetables, add whatever broth you have to cover all the vegetables, and cook for a few minutes until you are sure everything is tender (but not mushy; keep sampling). Then add milk and a can of cream corn (if you want) and cook just until hot but don't let it boil once you have added the milk and corn (or it will separate into two layers - one of which will be watery and unappetizing). If the soup seems too thin, mash some of the vegetables (or puree them in blender) to thicken. Add salt and pepper to taste.

You and a couple of grateful roommates can graze off of this for several days.

A Lukey sighting

2009-10-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

We had a Lukey sighting last week. He was our prisoner because he had all four of his wisdom teeth cut out and it left him like this:

Tim bustled around doing laundry and fussing over medications; Logan was the gopher; I cooked Luke's favorite foods (well, the softest of his favorite foods). It fell to Trixie to be the chief consoler and nurse.

He's back to normal and back to school so there may not be another Lukey sighting until Thanksgiving.

Saturday morning

2009-10-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

These are days...

Potent carrier of the happiness virus

2009-09-17T19:53:00.001-07:00

A recent article in the New York Times' magazine discussed the findings of happiness researchers who report that happiness is contagious. I immediately knew their findings to be true because I live in a house with a creature who spreads happiness like frequent fliers spread swine flu.

The Darby Diaries - "Pick me, pick me!"

2009-09-14T18:57:00.000-07:00

I hope Darby's yearning intensity comes through in this photo. When I go to the barn at training time (the middle of the afternoon) he leans across the gate with the most earnest expression, saying, "Pick me! Pick me!"

This is the expression of a clicker-trained horse. I'm not dumb or naive; I know he wants the treats. But he knows we're going to play a game in which finding the correct answers to my questions is what gets him the treats. He knows there are treats and he knows there is a game that he always wins; it is a total win/win situation. And for me, in every session, I have an earnest student who is thinking and who is learning to understand what I want from him and who, without realizing it, is building up trust upon trust upon trust in every encounter because they all go well.

Well, almost all. The other day, Darby decided I was no longer allowed to pick up his right hind foot. Which, for the record, I have picked up nearly every day for the past five weeks with no problem. Not only would he not give me his foot, he also did an irritated little cow-kick when I tried. (This needs a post of its own called "Testing Boundaries" or "I Wonder What Happens When I Say No?") Not knowing what else to do, I unhooked the cross ties, put him in his stall, and took a couple of deep breaths while thinking how I should handle this situation. Then I remembered that Darby loves his training sessions. How better to "punish" him than to train someone else?

I got my beloved old Buckles out, put him in cross ties, and began grooming him. Buckles thought he'd died and gone to heaven and I was the Boss Angel in God's Heavenly Stable. I brushed and cooed and clicked loudly and often and made a huge show of giving treats and patting Buckles and telling him what a good boy he was. Now Buckles surely was surprised by this; it's no secret that Darby is the one in training and Buckles is maybe a bit neglected in the grooming department. However, my old guy rose to the occasion like it was his Broadway debut. He gobbled up the treats and the attention - at one point I think he purred - and was the perfect foil to help me bug Darby.

So, was Darby bugged? Well, at first he tugged on the cross tie he could reach from his stall (something he had never done before or since). This cross tie was one of two Buckles was tied to but Buckles and I ignored Darby. Seeing this had no effect, he began banging his water bucket (another thing I'd never seen him do; it was impressively noisy) and then he pawed for awhile. He was throwing a little tantrum; I smiled to myself.

I finished with Buckles, brought Darby back out and hooked him to the cross ties. He resisted my first attempt to pick up his right hind foot. I thought, "Okay, buddy. Last chance." Which must have taken just enough time for a light bulb to go on in his brain because the second try was easy, there was his foot and there were his ears going, "Oh, is this what you wanted?" in the most sweet and innocent way. I clicked, gave him a treat (or two), then finished up the session on a great note.

It is fair, though, and important, I think, to back up here and say, well, what if Darby had not been bugged by my working with Buckles instead of him? Certainly, this could have happened. One of the important things I've learned is to keep stopping and thinking.

If Darby had gone into his stall and started eating hay as if he were relieved to be off the hook, then I would have a lot of thinking to do. In any training situation, ten different trainers might come up with ten different solutions. So how do we know if the solution we have come up with is a good (or even great) solution? Here is what I think is the only criteria that makes sense: If the solution does nothing to destroy the trust, the confidence, and the enthusiasm that has been built up between the trainee and the trainer, it would be a good solution. Furthermore, I say, if the solution strengthens the trust, the confidence, and the enthusiasm between the trainee and trainer, that is a great solution.

I never want to lose that yearning intensity of my horse leaning over the gate, saying, "Pick me."

Seems like old times

2009-09-14T18:46:00.000-07:00

Somehow, while Luke was home last weekend, he and Logan started talking about the good old days when they battled each other with their Pokemon cards. A search ensued, the cards were located (in a box in the basement), and the building of killer decks commenced.

In short order, the first battle was under way.

I would like to say I'm posting this here to embarrass them, but the reality is that I like it when my almost-adult sons act like kids again for a little while. It makes me feel not quite so obsolete.

(And Joanie, remember, Barbie and her amazing wardrobe are all mine!)

The Darby Diaries - Walking on the trailer

2009-09-04T13:39:00.000-07:00

Darby rode ten hours on a trailer from North Carolina to Ohio so it's not like he's never been on a trailer before but I want Darby's trailer experiences to be more than a nerve-wracking trip from point A to point B. I want him to walk into a trailer like he walks into or out of his stall. In fact, I want him to consider the trailer his barn away from barn. To get to that point, he has to spend a lot of time in and around the trailer.

Ideally, my horses should walk into the trailer without needing me to walk in first. I'm glad Darby is a yearling. Before he is full grown and takes up most of the trailer space, I want him to be comfortable going in and out without me squeezing in there too. I feel unsafe when I am in a trailer with a horse because the space is so crowded.

In training, you never start at your goal. You start way before that and you find ways to break the training down into little bits that are easy for the horse to grasp. Darby already targets on my hand and leads well, so I led him, slowly and snorting, up to the scary open trailer door. He stopped at the step so I went in ahead of him and I gave little tugs on the lead rope. When he stuck his head in the door, reaching toward me, I clicked my tongue and gave him a treat. Right then, I could see his focus change from being scared to thinking, "Hey! Peppermint! I want some more." So he sticks his head in a bit further and even picks up a front foot. Click, treat.

He's on to the game now. One foot in the trailer, click, treat. He backs up, puts his foot back on the ground. But I note that he moves his hind legs further underneath his barrel, making it easier for him to lift up his front end. He stands and thinks about it. He sticks his head toward me, I put out my target hand, he leans in even further to touch my fist. There is very little going on, physically, but Darby's mental wheels are churning as he tries to reconcile his unease about the trailer with his strong desire for a treat.

The first day I practiced loading Darby, he got on and off the trailer twice in about fifteen minutes. Using clicks and treats, he edged his way into the trailer, stayed in there with me for about twenty seconds, then got scared by the hollow sound his feet made against the floor so he quickly backed out and off the trailer. He stood outside the trailer for a second, collected his cool, and when I resumed my tugs on the lead rope, he came right up into the trailer again. I clicked, he ate his treat, and he backed back off the trailer. Both times he began backing, I said, "back," because I want him to learn to wait for me to tell him to back - but that is the end goal. First he has to learn that the word back in this situation is the same as the word back when he's in his stall or in cross ties.

The other long term goal is to get Darby to be comfortable staying on the trailer. Eventually, he needs to learn that he can't just get on the trailer and back off; he has to stay on the trailer. To do this, once he was loading calmly and reliably, I began putting his jackpot of sweetfeed in the trailer. Since he was now loading so quickly, I didn't need the treats during the loading. The next thing I wanted him to learn was staying in the trailer so I put something in there that made him want to stay.

It is so important that anyone training a horse (or a child) remember that in every single thing you teach there is always a background element of self-control. I am so grateful to be working with Darby while he is a yearling because self-control is a subject like math - what you learn today is built upon what you learned yesterday. Self-control has to be built up day by day until you end up with a horse who has learned to control himself. This is the difference between a horse in the wild and a horse who is expected to get along and thrive in a training situation - the horse in training (or the kid in school) will only be successful if they have learned to have control over themselves.

Control imposed from the outside will always show itself - usually in the worst possible time and place. The only reliable control for anyone, human or not, is self-control. When you create situations over a period of time where your "student" has to practice self-control, you will develop a mature partner rather than an underling who requires constant monitoring. This is true of horses or teenagers-- but it's easier with horses.

Catching up with myself

2009-08-27T19:05:00.000-07:00

All these photos and things I want to remember that I never get around to posting? Today, I'm throwin'em on here in no particular order. I just gotta do it or give up on it. So I'm doin' it.

Luke turned 18 in June. Then he left to go to be a camp counselor in Michigan. I haven't disowned him or anything. He's absent from my blog because (sigh) he's absent from my life (except for my lifeline, the cell phone). We picked him up from camp on Sunday and got to see him for a whole seven hours as we drove from his camp to his college and dropped him off in time to meet his roommate, sleep, and start classes the next day. His summer at camp, he says, was "amazing."

In July, Tim and I took Logan and his friend, Burge, on vacation out west. Here we are playing volleyball at YMCA of the Rockies. That's Logan spiking.

After Colorado, we drove to the Grand Canyon and met my Danish friend, Janni, who I worked with at Camp Kern twenty years ago. She is married to Chris from India. Here's all of us at the Yip-pee-yi-o Steakhouse near the canyon.

Me with all the kids; a Grand Canyon sunset.

Chris, Janni, Savanna (10) and Daniel (5).

Logan, Tim, me.

Daniel bought a book at the giftshop; Logan read it to him.

Janni and Savanna.

Cowboy Daniel.

At the end of July, Logan turned sixteen. I did get around to posting about that.

August:

My great-niece, Courtney, turned fourteen. We had to interrupt Monday night volleyball to sing Happy Birthday and eat hot fudge cake.

Some of us really like hot fudge cake.

Mid-August, Logan passed his driving test and became a licensed driver. Tim is giving last minute instructions before Logan drives off by himself for the first time.

Logan being agreeable when what he really wants to do is burn rubber out the driveway.

And then, two days ago, Logan's school started:

Obligatory First Day of School Photo under the maple tree.

Photo totally just to ogle two of my good looking guys.

Logan driving himself to school for the first time.

Life is good.

2009-08-18T21:09:00.001-07:00

What to do with a Speckled horse?

2009-08-18T20:49:00.000-07:00

You can see it in the video (above): Speckles is a very good boy. He is willing and a good worker, especially when he gets to work outside. (Indoor work, he says, is Borrring.)

So here's Speckles working, being ridden by his reining trainer. He's been with this trainer for three weeks. The trainer tells me, "if we're going to go on with reining training, it's time to get tough with him." The trainer and I have had conversations; he knows I don't have a stomach for "getting tough." When I left Speck with him I told him I didn't want him to tie Speck's head around (he said he'd call me if it came to that), I asked him if Speck got a reward after he worked (no), I asked him if he got turned out (no). The guy knows I'm a softy so he's warning me.

As I was walking Speckles, cooling him out after the ride in the video, I realized I don't have what it takes to get a reining horse to the top. I don't know if Speckles has what it takes or not and it would take a lot more training to find out. But I know I don't have it.

I want to ride Speckles, fast, in the fields and woods around our house. I want to give him treats after a fun ride; I want him to go outside on these lovely summer nights and hang out with Buckles and Darby and eat grass.

I want him to be a horse.

The Darby Diaries - Lines in the sand

2009-08-10T20:34:00.001-07:00

Buckles is now allowing Darby to eat in the same area code as him. This is a big achievement to Darby.

While things with Buckles are going well, Darby and I are having a little battle over whether or not it is okay with me if he bites at me. Let me be clear, he has not bitten me but he swings his head around at me in a rudish manner as if he is going to be the one to decide where I am allowed to stand around him. Needless to say, I yell my pirate war cry and chase him, again, out the back door of the stall.

Let's just say Darby is testing boundaries, like a two-year-old child does, and I am busy drawing my lines in the sand.

I want to remember that among the little things we are working on are the very important manners of backing away from me (especially when I am delivering his grain and his hay) and moving over (from the lightest touch).

And he is learning his name. I say it every time I give him his food. I also say Buckles when I give the big guy his food, which Buckles probably thinks is strange because he has known his name for a long time. But now I want Darby to know that Darby stands for him and Buckles stands for Big Boss Dude.

Well, for now Buckles is the big boss dude. But look at the photo again. Buckles is 16'3" which is pretty darn big. Darby is a yearling; he's gonna be huge. Buckles better lay down the law now or Darby is gonna make his life miserable in a couple of years.

Making Salsa

2009-08-07T20:14:00.000-07:00

Mom and I spent yesterday making salsa.

We started with this:

(The garlic and the bells peppers were purchased at my local farmer's market but the tomatoes, onions, and jalapeno peppers are out of my garden.)

Mom squishing up the tomatoes.

Me stirring, and stirring, and stirring.

The finished product:

We had a fun day working together and ended up with fifteen jars of salsa.

Here's the recipe:

12 cups peeled, squished tomatoes (drop the tomatoes into a pot of boiling water until the skins split (about 30 seconds), remove to a large shallow pan to cool and the peels will come right off. Also, it works well to squish the tomatoes and remove some of the excess juice from them before you put them in the cooking pot. The more watery juice there is, the longer you will have to cook it down.)
2 large onions, diced
2 cups bell peppers, seeded and diced
3 jalapeno peppers, diced (if you like it hot, leave the seeds; lessen the heat by lessening the seeds. I say leave the seeds or this turns out very mild.)
6 cloves garlic, chopped
Add the following ingredients after you have skimmed off the excess watery juice:
1 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
1 Tbl. salt

Wash your jars in the dishwasher and leave them there until needed (or boil them for ten minutes or so in your canning pot.)

Mix all the vegetables in a large, heavy pot, bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer. Using a spoon, begin skimming off the excess water/broth into a heat-proof bowl (you can let this cool then freeze it for soup starter). After you've removed most of the excess water, add the cider vinegar, sugar, and salt. Continue to simmer. Stir frequently to keep the salsa from scorching on the bottom of the pan.

If you sterilized the jars in the dishwasher, now is the time to start the water boiling in the canning pot. If you sterilized your jars in the canner you should already have water boiling in there.

When the salsa begins to thicken, set a small pan of water to boil; place the lids and rings in the boiling water for five minutes. When you've removed a good bit of the excess water and the salsa is fairly thick, spoon it into the sterilized jars (a sterilized funnel is a big help here), then cover with the boiled lids and rings. Place jars in the canner and boil for 12-15 minutes. (The original recipe does not call for the boiling in the canner but I do it anyway as a precaution against any mistake I might make in getting my equipment sterilized. I really don't want to kill my peeps.)

When you remove the jars from the canner, Remove the rings and wipe the jars clean. Listen for the tell-tale ping of each lid as it pops down and creates a seal that lets you know your food is safe. Any half jars should be stored in the refrigerator and used first, or else eaten right away as a taste test. Don't be alarmed at how mild it is - the flavors ripen with age and it gets a little thicker, too.

The Darby Diaries - The little things

2009-08-04T20:18:00.000-07:00

Darby's been here for two weeks and one day and we have done a lot of training in that time. For the first ten days he was nervous and squirrely and I may have been nervous, too, but I hope I wasn't squirrely.

We are working on little things: standing still, for instance. Standing still out of my personal space. Keeping his nose and teeth off of me. Combing his mane and forelock (today I even combed his tail). Cutting his mane and bridle path with scissors. Being petted on his face without flinging it around and hitting me. Picking up his feet, standing tied, leading, stopping, backing.

When I feed in the morning I spend time cleaning the stalls while they eat. I want Darby to be used to me being around, even when he's eating. I don't want him to think he has to challenge me for his food so I make sure I'm constantly in the background while he eats. After breakfast, I close Buckles and Darby in the pen/barn, give them their hay,and leave.

I come back in a couple of hours with treats in my pockets and commence training - maybe I will tie him (using an old innertube around a post in his stall) and brush him all over and pick up his feet. It takes five to ten minutes and about sixteen treats. When he stands very nicely, facing forward, I click my tongue and give him a treat. He learns his lessons fast and is standing tied like an old pro.

I don't want to make it sound all peaches and cream, though, because sometimes he still swings his head around as if to bite me. When he bites at me, I roar at him (it comes out like a pirate AAAARRRRGGGG) and chase him out the back door of the stall. Hopefully, he'll rethink the whole biting thing because it's not working for him. Also, I am now walking comfortably around behind him; he no longer feels the need to protect his hind end from me.

In the afternoon I do another short training session - maybe a leading lesson around the pen. Then I pick out their stalls again and give them more hay before I leave.

In the evening, I feed again, pick out stalls, and then they get the best part of their day: turnout and grazing. They look so much alike, it's no wonder I fell in love with Darby when I first saw a picture of him. In this photo, Darby's up close and Buckles is in the background.

Another photo of Buckles at dusk. He has his go-go fly socks on because the flies really bother him.

It has been a productive, successful, and good two weeks.

Logan's 16th birthday

2009-07-27T13:25:00.000-07:00

I look at this photo of Tim handing over the keys to Logan and I think, first of all, man, they are Good Looking. And then I think, parents are the most amazing creatures. Here is Tim handing over the keys, literally giving Logan his wings to fly away from us, when what we really want to do is keep him in our pocket where we know he'll always be safe.

How do you teach them to live really big lives when all your instincts scream, keep them close, keep them safe?

Stay safe, bright-eyed Snog. Live big.

My fambly

2009-07-25T21:53:00.000-07:00

I'm posting this here just because I like it. And in case Luke ever gets homesick and needs to see a photo of his fambly. Wait. Luke? Homesick?

Luke, Logan, me, Tim

The Darby Diaries - The beginning

2009-07-24T20:38:00.000-07:00

Here are photos of my future Olympic mount, Don Verde, whose barn name is Darby. He is a yearling Oldenburg colt, the first Premium colt out of the young stallion Don Principe.

Darby grazing behind our house.

Darby's lovely head.

Just off the trailer, still wearing his shipping boots. (I was playing Monday night volleyball when he arrived.)

Darby's first run in the pasture.

Speckles was turned out with Darby because he was being quite nice. (Buckles, not so much.)

Speckles kicking up his heels.

So much to tell. Speckles was good to Darby from the start but two days after Darby arrived, Speckles left to go back into reining training. As soon as Speck was gone, Buckles straightened up and decided a bratty yearling colt was a better friend than no friend at all. So things are calm again.

I've started working on basic ground stuff with Darby; he already leads well so we are adding stopping and backing. He has personal space issues that we are working on (not his personal space, mine.) Also, he does not want me to comb his forelock (bangs, according to my neighbor) so we are working on that. He would like to whack me with his big club head.

Overall, my impression after five days is that he is beautiful, smart, ornery, and more good-hearted than not (he has raised a hind leg at me as I tidied his stall while he was eating but he did not kick). I am pleased with my new boy and very excited about everything going on with the horses.

Speckles went to a new trainer who thinks he is the bomb; I think we'll be showing him in reining classes very soon. Plus, he was amazing with Darby. He's just a very, very, good boy.

Oh, the possibilities. I am so excited.

All About Luke

2008-06-03T11:46:00.000-07:00

Luke graduated last Friday. I did not cry. (Tim did.)

To totally brag here, Luke was a National Merit Scholar Finalist which means he was in the top one percent in the United States. He was also an Ohio Regents Scholar which is awarded to one of the top 1000 seniors in Ohio. Between his academics and his piano scholarship, he's about got his four years of college paid for.

Now he's ready to burst into his new, adult life. He'll always be my baby, but he's ready.

we

2008-04-06T20:47:00.000-07:00

Browsing around my favorite blogs, I came across this quick video on No Impact Man's website. I checked it out and checked out wecansolveit.org and added my name and e-mail address to more than a million others who want action on global warming and environmental issues.

It's a new group, spearheaded by Al Gore. To me, it's a chance to feel like I'm not alone in the wilderness. More than a million folks have signed up already.

There's hope.

Bruce!

2008-03-23T09:25:00.001-07:00

I was surprised yesterday by the best early birthday present in the world: Tickets to see Bruce Springsteen in concert last night. It was awesome. To get an idea, here's a video of "Radio Nowhere" off his new CD:

After 40 some years of music, Bruce is still the boss. And the rest of us oldies can still rock, too.

Thanks to my three boys for a great gift and a great time.

Organic Food

2008-03-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

Today, I received the annual newsletter from the organic farmers from whom I buy eggs, our Thanksgiving turkey, roasting chickens, and vegetables (in season). I am pleased to see that they now have a website, www.thatguysfamilyfarm.com. I have added them to my Daily Blog Check list at left. Check them out. If you don't live in this area, read their website to become inspired to find some local, organic farmers of your very own. The work they do is vital to the health of our beloved planet, not to mention the quality and taste of their fresh products exceeds anything available in the grocery store. As Barbara Kingsolver says in her great book, Animal Vegetable, Miracle, we should be skeptical of produce that had "a misspent youth in the back of a refrigerator truck."

It is a great feeling to look in my fridge and know where the food came from and know how the animals spent their lives. And to know that I am supporting my neighbors in their livelihood and their effort to keep our neighborhood clean of mystery chemicals in the ground and water.

Try it. You'll be surprised how rewarding it is. Carlena, if you read this, especially check on their website the dates they are at farmer's markets. They are in your area fairly often.

Update

2008-03-18T18:46:00.001-07:00

More photos and an update of what's going on here.

In a new endeavor for our family, we planted vegetable seeds (mostly saved from last years veggies, even!). We saved boxes to use for flats and planted our seeds in used yogurt cups. Logan handled the dirty work.

Logan's always up for the dirty work. He planted them several weeks ago and most have sprouted. They're just sitting in front of a south-facing window. Amazing they sprouted; there has been very little sun here, lots of clouds and rain.

Next update:
I spent a second weekend in Florida, this time with my brother Mike.

He had a blast riding four-wheelers on the beach.

And fishing. This is on the inland waterway, also known as the Halifax River (although it is saltwater). I just hung around the pier taking pics and enjoying the sunshine. Especially since they were suffering through a blizzard (14 inches of snow!) at home.

A highlight was spending some time with my great friend Cynthia.

Next item:

We spent a wonderful weekend watching Luke play Schroeder in the high school play, "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown."

Here's Lucy singing while Schroeder plays the piano. She's trying to talk him into marrying her.

Luke singing "Beethoven Day" in celebration of his hero's birthday.

Schroeder at the ball game.

It was awesome.

Joanie: You're the winner of this month's Special Treat! For reading my blog, you receive a free round trip ticket to come home around Saturday, June 7th, for Luke's graduation party! All expenses paid! (Mike and I took a bump coming home from Florida; he's got a ticket burning a hole in his pocket; I've got a ticket so you can be here and help me with the party! Lucky you!)

Trip to Florida

2008-03-04T18:17:00.000-08:00

My blog is suffering because so much good stuff is going on here. But I did want to post these photos of our recent trip to Daytona Beach. Mom and Poppy go there for the winter so we went down for a long weekend to visit them. I got to check a thing off my Life Must-Do list: we swam with dolphins (for the shortest half hour ever) at the Dolphin Conservation Center just south of St. Augustine Florida. It was wonderful (but way too short). And yes, just like Flipper, dolphins really are the Black Labs of the sea.

That pink spot on his bottom lip is very kissable.

Twenty-six miles of beach and the only folks in the water are Ohio tidy-whities.

From mom's computer, Luke posted this to his Facebook and received really nasty messages from his friends in school in Ohio.

Logan starring in his own little Coke commercial. (Can you see him? The chair is good camouflage.)

Luke and Tim during our requisite game of mini-golf.

We had a great time.

Luke, Tim, Logan, Mom, and me basking in the Florida sunshine.

Christmas Parade

2007-12-02T18:20:00.000-08:00

Our town held its first ever Christmas parade last weekend.

Here's photos of me and the rest of the lead singers and dancers from the Christmas show as we are getting ready for the parade to begin.

(That's me second from left.)

(I'm all the way on the left in this photo.)

The entire time we were on the float we sang and danced one of our numbers from the Christmas show. The song had kind of a western flair about going on a sleigh ride. Ten people dancing on a hay wagon was challenging; not a lot of room to be swung by your partner. I'm not complaining though. The dancing kept our toes from completely freezing off our feet.

Tim pulled our float with his truck; Logan was his co-pilot. Luke marched in the parade with the high school marching band.

It was great fun and I feel lucky to have been part of it.

A man and his tractor

2007-09-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

Strange things happen to a man when a tractor comes into his life. It begins innocently enough. A simple thought: Hey, let's cover up the place where the foundation shows by building a flower bed along the side of the house.

A call to our landscaping friend causes a load of rocks to be dropped off. Building commences. Our great nephew, Cory, is visiting and he thinks riding with Tim on the tractor hauling real live rocks is as good as life gets.

A wall takes shape.

Logan is a good worker and a good guy to little kids.

You have a tractor, therefore the work is not unbearable; so even while this wall is being built your eye begins to wander. You think, we could finally tear out those ugly bushes in front and do something about that perpetual bare spot by the red maple. Besides, there are always enough rocks left over from one wall to get you started on the next wall; before you use the last rock you place another call to your landscaper friend and say, hey, when you get over this way, and several days later there are more rocks and you finish one area but have enough rocks left over to make you think you can do another area and just before you use the last rock you make another call...

The next thing you know you've used your tractor to pull out those ugly bushes at the front of the house and you've found the coolest ever stepping stones for a front walkway...

And your tractor hauls in the sand which makes the stepping stones lay perfectly.

Miracle of miracles, you exhaust the manure pile filling up the new beds. Then piles of mulch appear in the driveway and a week's worth of evenings are spent in the hauling of mulch...

...and the spreading of mulch with Trixie for quiet and pleasant company.

Bushes and flowers get planted one bed at a time. Things grow and bloom; the flit and buzz and flutter of bees, hummingbirds and butterflies are hearty accolades for this thing you have wrought.

The cat lolls in splendor and thinks: All this for me / As well it should be.

You hose down your sweaty tractor and tuck it into the barn for a rest. Yourself gets propped up on the deck from whence you can survey your work, drink your ice water, and make plans for next summer.

I smile a wifely smile to myself and think, I should have bought you a tractor a long time ago.

Eventful week

2007-08-25T13:55:00.000-07:00

School started Wednesday so herein are posted the obligatory First Day of School photos:

Luke, now a senior

The Snoginator begins eighth grade.

No parents needed; Luke's driving to school now.

Also last week, Luke and three friends sang the National Anthem at a Dayton Dragons game.

Grandma Rose and Poppy were in the ball park, of course.

The Dragon's mascot, Heater, joined the singers for a photo.

On Friday, Luke came home from school bearing a packet from the National Merit Scholar folks that notified him he was a National Merit Scholar semi-finalist. Very exciting. Then Friday evening was the first high school football game so Luke and the marching band had their first performance.

All in all, it was an eventful, fun week.

Dog Days

2007-08-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

The dog days of August roll on.

And school starts waaayyyy too soon.

Time, why you punish me?

Burning question 2:

2007-08-09T19:04:00.001-07:00

How old do I have to be before my mom quits calling to tell me a storm is headed my way? I'm forty-six years old, for crying out loud! And every time it storms here, my mom, who has seen the report on the weather channel, calls to warn me.

Someday rescuers will find my cold carcass, cell phone locked in my hand. They will pry the phone out of my stiff fingers only to hear my mother giving me the details on the direction and duration of the storm and advising me of the precautions I should take for safety.

Moms.

(Any family reading this better not breathe a word of this to my mommy. I might make fun of this in public, but secretly, her calling makes me feel beloved. As a matter of fact, I wish everyone, no matter how old, had someone who called when a storm was approaching.)

The Wilds

2007-08-02T19:12:00.001-07:00

Today Logan and I visited Ohio's best kept secret, The Wilds. Oh my gosh, what a neat place. As soon as we got there, Logan claimed the camera so these are all his photos (except the one he is in). You'll see he had a thing for asses.

For instance, the onager, an ass from...somewhere in the Middle East. Iran? Pakistan? Anyway...

And the Przewalski's horse, an ancient horse whose likeness is often depicted in cave paintings. These had been extinct in the wild but due to conservation efforts and captive breeding programs a herd of 250 animals now grazes in their native Mongolia.

The giraffes were very cool. Two of them are basking in the shade of the trees behind Logan.

This guy was up by the road, clearing standing guard...

...over this.

Notice the baby giraffe and the baby white rhino. There were an amazing number of babies throughout the park. The guide said it was rare for the giraffe parents and the rhino parents to be so close to each other's babies but they were sharing the available shade. The sun was merciless.

When I first spotted the Grevy's zebras, I gasped out loud at how perfect they were. Those stripes, that color scheme, their expressions and outrageous stuffed-animal-looking ears. They were breathtaking.

This was the only place where we didn't see any babies. They think the stud zebra is shooting blanks so they're in the process of swapping him for another stud.

They are perfect.

The bison herd tried to keep cool in the 95 degree weather. They were panting from the heat.

Our vehicle was an open-air safari bus with a canopy overhead. It was breezy and amazingly dust free even on the gravel roadway. Ours was driven by a guide who clearly had been around the place awhile. She was a good talker who liked what she was talking about.

The pin-up girls.

If you find yourself near southeast Ohio (Zanesville area) don't miss The Wilds. Even when it's hot, it's very very cool.

Snoggy turns 14

2007-07-27T12:44:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to my baby Logan.

He turned fourteen yesterday. For his birthday, he went to King's Island with his friend Ryan, came home to his favorite dinner - meatloaf, baked mac and cheese, and peas - went golfing with Tim, then had four friends over to play Dungeons and Dragons all night long.

His gifts reflected the fact that golf is his latest passion.

New golf shoes.

All decked out and practicing his swing.

He might stink up the course with his playing but he sure looks good.

In case you don't know, Snoggy stands for "very beloved son."

Free Birds

2007-07-24T19:35:00.000-07:00

So Luke got his driver's license today.

And he drove himself to marching band practice tonight.

Although he was stuck with Logan, who had plans to go to a friend's house. When it was time to go, Tim and I followed them out the driveway with our cameras.

Sometimes I feel sorry for our boys having us as parents. We are so...parental.

To freak us out, Luke goosed the gas as they headed down the street. Does Logan look scared or excited?

Earlier, at the exam station, the second Luke's license came off the press he asked me if he could drive around the block of the exam station by himself. "Sure," I said and he headed out the door. I waited a nanosecond and followed. As I watched him turn right out of the parking lot I had a teary-eyed moment when I thought my heart would break, mostly with pride at the young man he has become. I sent blessings out to him across the parking lot, blessings and prayers and wishes that he will be careful and safe and always come home in one piece.

It has been a fun time, driving him to all his piano, band, school, clarinet, soccer, etc. all these years, talking and singing in the car, hanging around while he did his thing, then driving him home. But he's ready to take off on his own life and I'm ready to have my life back. I'm ready to get serious about this horse stuff.

We both feel like free birds.

Senior photo preview

2007-07-21T12:19:00.000-07:00

Luke had his senior pictures taken on Thursday. Here's a sneak preview:

The obligatory suit-wearing head shot.

The musician and his instrument.

Using the beautiful piano at the Presbyterian church; getting the backdrop just so.

Getting the lighting just so.

Bond. Luke Bond.

The grins on their faces are because I had to eat crow over not wanting to spring the extra moolah for black and white photos. What was I thinking? Black and white piano, black and white tux. Duh. Get the black and white photos. Our terrific photographer took B&W anyway, despite my lack of coughing up the dough, and yeah, we saw 'em on the screen; they're beautiful.

I'm eating my crow pie and thinking of my lovely young man and his perfect photo. It's all good.

Brain Dead Blogger

2007-07-17T20:13:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's wrong with me but I've ruled out depression and I'm trying to decide between onset of menopause or onset of Alzheimers'. I'm hoping it's menopause because that passes. My major symptom is brain-deadedness. I'm also trying to figure out what it means that the slowing down of my estrogen production is leaving me brain-dead. Anybody...anybody?

My brain is the only part of my life slowing down. The rest of my life is moving in indirect proportion to my brain, which only compounds the problem. For instance, tomorrow's schedule: Logan golf clinic, 9 to 10:15; me teach riding lesson at 10 a.m.; Luke haircut for senior photos (on Thursday) 11:30. Luke has to be back home by 12:30 to be picked up by driving school dude for two hours of driving time. Logan ortho appt. 2 p.m. Pick up new volleyball while in the big city because we have busted our other one after five weeks of play. Hurry home to get Luke to his clarinet lesson at 5 p.m.; then drop he and Logan off to help a friend with his Eagle Scout project of building a bridge at a nature center. Rush home to play in volleyball league game at 6 p.m. Feed horses. Pick up kids. Go to bed.

I'm not complaining, just reporting the facts. I love it that Luke and Logan are so involved in so many things. Their lives are full and fun and they are living passionately: Luke is passionate about piano and marching band; Logan, right now, is passionate about golf. The problem is that they are dependent on a driver to get them to these things so my things, especially this blog, have suffered.

Luke tells us several times a day how many days until he can take his driver's test. Nine days, as of today. He's not the only one counting. I thought I was dreading the day he could drive off without me but he has worn me down. Go, I say. God speed. I'm ready to be on my schedule.

Nine days....

Charlotte's Web

2007-07-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

The local children's theatre productions took place last weekend.

Here are photos of Logan as Wilbur in Charlotte's Web.

Templeton tells Wilbur and Charlotte the wonders of the fair.

Charlotte's two final projects: The word Humble in her web and her egg sack.

Salutations! Wilbur meets Charlotte's children.

Our local children's theatre is awesome. We have planned our summer around it for the past eight or nine years and it has been one of the best things our kids have done. If you get the chance to get your kids involved in something like this, I highly recommend it. Nothin' but fun for all of us.

Wilbur was humble, terrific, and Some Pig.

Summertime and the livin' is busy

2007-06-23T21:22:00.000-07:00

Year after year after year I look forward to summer, imagining long, sunny, lazy days sipping pina coladas on the back deck. In reality, summer arrives and we are busier than ever, especially this summer with big parties to mark big events (Queenie's graduation; Luke's birthday) which left me whipped. I've been so tired I've felt old. (Although not too tired to play hours of volleyball several evenings a week. Sand volleyball Rocks.) And I have managed to drag myself out to the barn and ride every morning before I take Logan in to rehearsal for Charlotte's Web.

I've picked 20 pounds of strawberries from my local U-pick place. The ones Logan and I didn't stuff in our mouths got frozen or canned. Today was round one of picking black raspberries; our volleyball friends polished off the first cobbler I made today so after volleyball, at 10 p.m., I whipped up another. (One of these days I'll get around to posting recipes because I've got an incredibly easy but good recipe for cobbler.)

I've been reading Barbara Kingsolver's new and wonderful book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle which chronicles her family's year of eating local. Because of her I ordered a cheesemaking kit from www.cheesemaking.com and Logan and I spent part of an afternoon heating up a gallon of milk and turning it into a pound of mozzarella cheese. That was a satisfying afternoon; cheesemaking is pure chemistry but it felt like magic.

And yesterday I made yogurt, just to see if I could. Yep, more chemistry. I don't know if I'll keep making yogurt or cheese, but it's neat to know where these things come from.

The other day I asked Tim if he knew of anyone locally who still milked cows. Yeah, of course he does, he knows everyone. "Why?" he asked. "Oh," I said, "for making cheese. So I don't have to buy a cow." He gave me The Look and made his exit.

I hope no-one from my bag company ever reads my blog. It's easy to forget I have a job, isn't it?

My sister who lives in Colorado was here for Queenie's graduation. We did blend some of those just-picked strawberries into daquiris so a bit of my fantasy summer came true.

How's your summer going?

And now, a word from our sponsor...

2007-06-23T20:23:00.001-07:00

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Worth passing on, me thinks.

Luke's Birthday Party

2007-06-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

Choosing teams for volleyball was interupted by the sound of a beeping horn.

Logan had the honor of driving Luke's big present to the party.

(The van Luke was supposed to inherit died two days before his birthday. It was quickly decided that, since we were going to get a car anyway, we might as well have it at his party.)

Luke checks out his new car while my friend and neighbor vannas for the camera.

Luke checks out his new ride.

The guys go for a drive.

Luke opens cards and presents. This one had an inordinate amount of toilet paper involved. And the ketchup on the table? A gift. Because Luke thinks ketchup is its own food group.

The cops showed up, making it officially a party. (Cars needed to be removed from the roadway.)

The obligatory Burying the Birthday Boy.

The birthday boy.

A good time was had by all.

How can he do this to me?

2007-06-14T19:53:00.001-07:00

Luke turned 16 today.

That's all I have to say about that.

She did it!

2007-06-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

My Queenie graduated from college.

Take that diploma and run, girlfriend!

My sister flew in from Colorado to be here for the graduation; she and mom spent the weekend here helping me get ready for the party. I wish I had photos to post but we were so busy and things were so hectic I only took pictures at the actual ceremony. You'll have to take my word when I tell you we threw a heck of a party: lovely little girls in frilly dresses fed apples slices to my horses, my uncle and cousin brought their guitars and when they found a place in the shade and started strumming folks brought lawn chairs over and sang and talked. We cried over Carlena's slide show and Carlena's speech; we played volleyball and cornhole and ate too much good food. It was a great day.

You did it, Queenie. We are so proud of you.

Happy Birthday Dear Tim

2007-06-06T15:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Tim's 46th birthday.

He's looking pretty good for a guy on the downhill slide to 50.

We had a good day, but now have our noses to the grindstone as we get ready for Queenie's graduation party on Saturday. Last night, I dragged myself to bed and I must have looked pathetic because Logan followed me upstairs to give me a hug. He said, "I'm going to do better about doing things the first time you tell me." And today he did. He and Luke were wonderful help, now that they are out of school (YAY!)

Oh, last Saturday Logan auditioned for the local children's theatre. He found out yesterday he was cast as Wilbur in Charlotte's Web. Rehearsals start next week, along with basketball camp for Logan and summer gym for Lukey. This is their only week off and they have been troupers about helping me get ready for company and the party. I love boys, especially helpful ones.

Speaking of helpful, in above birthday photo, Tim's 'cake' is two of his favorite things: I made the cream cheese cupcakes; Luke made the no-bake cookies (because he couldn't think of a thing to get the man who has everything).

I will be able to think again when this week is over. If I haven't forgot how.

Low Impact Failure

2007-06-04T20:37:00.001-07:00

Crunchy Chicken took a poll and learned 52% of her respondents are feeling pretty good about what they are doing during Low Impact Week.

Not me. I'm several categories down the list in Ugh!

All I have done is drive kids to graduation parties; attend one important (to me) graduation party, work on slide shows for graduation parties (yes, I have new hard drive) and plan Queenie's graduation party.

Too much driving; too much rushing. I got behind on the laundry so used the dryer for one load, which is the first time in over three weeks I've used the dryer.

It is interesting to me that living Low Impact can't be done in a rush. I think there is an elemental truth in this observation that explains how we got where we are and why it's so hard to do things differently. I wanted to do things differently this week, wanted to be the star of Crunchy's experiment, but I'm not doing near what I thought I would.

A long time ago I was a Diet Coke drinker. I would have a piece of chocolate cake with ice cream and chase it with Diet Coke on the notion of, hey, I was saving calories, right? That's how my environmentalism feels, like maybe I'm fooling myself.

Food for thought, I guess.

I'm going to bed, but not before I turn off my computer. If you're participating in Low Impact Week, there's today's quick thing you can do: Begin a habit of shutting your computer down for the night.

And don't forget, if you make a low impact change, be sure to check in at Crunchy Chicken's website and leave a comment so she can tally up the number of participants.

I hope you all are doing better at this than I am; I need to be carried for awhile.

Lettin' the wine do the talkin'

2007-06-03T19:16:00.000-07:00

The boys, after yet another graduation party, are spending the night at friends'. So it was a Parent Party here tonight and yes much wine was consumed by me. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Alcohol is wasted on youth.

I've had my two glasses of wine for the week and I'm ready to rant and roll:

My lovely, wonderful niece, Queenie, is graduating from college on Saturday. She is graduating in spite of her parents, who can't seem to grow up, can't seem to get away from drug addiction, promiscuity, money problems, marital problems, ad nauseum. Still, Queenie has made it. All on her own. She's kept on keeping on and even as she graduates with her bachelor's degree, she is getting ready, in July, to start her Master's program. And she has two kids. Two good kids. She is utterly amazing and I want you all to send blessings, today, to Queenie in Ohio who is UTTERLY AMAZING.

Here's the rant part: Queenie's dad is my beloved brother who can't get his act together.

Last May, my brother's wife OD'd on back pain. My brother had spent the day taking his wife around to pain clinics, trying to get someone to do something about her back pain (she injured it in a fall ten years previously). No one would do anything; probably because of fear of malpractice suits. When they got home that year ago, she said to my brother, I'm going to a friend's house. My brother started watching a movie. At the friend's house, his wife put a 7-day morphine patch into her mouth. She fell asleep then died.

My brother called my mom, frantically. "She died," he said. "She died." My mom called me because I live closer to my brother. I drove immediately to his house where the death was confirmed. We (me and my other siblings, nieces, nephews) sat shiva with my brother. It was a terrible night of wailing, pulling hair, and gnashing teeth.

We buried my sister-in-law in style. Over 200 friends and family attended her ceremony. She was beloved in her community of casual drug-users, horse folks, and wayward teens she had helped raise.

In the year since she died, my brother, Queenie's father, has fallen apart. He's spent the insurance money, $20 grand, on drugs. He failed a drug test at his work, then got fired. He blew through his $16 grand of retirement money. 'Round about January I wrote him a letter saying as long as he was on drugs I couldn't help him. Couldn't give him money, couldn't help with his house payment, couldn't in any shape or form help him buy drugs, couldn't watch him die as his wife had died. Oxycottin: the drug that did him in.

Last week, my brother lost his house, forfeited to the bank for lack of payment. He moved in with a meth-addicted girlfriend. Soon, if he is not in jail, he will be living with my handicapped brother who is turning out, despite all his problems, to be the very normal person in this soap opera (he took in my brother's dogs when my brother lost his house).

This is the scenario in which my beloved Queenie struggles to raise her kids and put herself through college. I'm honored to be hosting her graduation party on Saturday. If anyone ever asked me who my hero was, I'd shout: Queenie!

(Looking through the photos, it's hard to find one of Queenie without a baby in her arms, so I chose this one of me, on the left, and her, on the right, getting our Pink Lady groove on.)

Blessings, dear Queenie. Blessings, blessings, blessings.

The Pink Ladies: Me, my sister, my mom (center), Queenie (left front), my sister-in-law who died of back pain (right front). This photo was taken six months before she died.

Let the Festivities Begin

2007-05-30T21:07:00.000-07:00

(I meant to post this entry on June 1st but it got lost in the shuffle of a couple of hectic graduation party days.)

Happy first day of Low Impact Week!

Crunchy Chicken, the brains behind Low Impact Week, has all the details and a list of impact-lowering ideas here. Challenge yourself and your family to see how many of her ideas you can implement this week.

If you want to jump right in, here's something you can do in five minutes to lower your impact. Call 888-567-8688 and request that you no longer receive offers from credit card companies.

If you participate, be sure and leave Crunchy Chicken a comment; it would be nice to see if there is a critical mass of folks interested in creating more sustainable lifestyles. I think there is and I think it's going to be bloggers and internet users who change the world long before politicians ever get around to it.

For me, finding all these greenies on-line has made me feel as if change is more than possible - it's inevitable. And it has made me more hopeful for our lovely planet than I've felt in a long time.

Water Worship

2007-05-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

Buckles spent the day worshiping his golden calf.

He stood there, like this, for hours.

Occasionally, for kicks, he'd swish the water around. He thought he was so cool because he wasn't spooking anymore at the sound it made when it refilled. Yeah, he's bad.

Sometimes, he'd lap the water up like a dog.

Speckles finally really needed a drink. This is a brave move on his part because Buckles is the boss.

Buckles allowed him to drink, but didn't actually get out of Speckles' way. He moved his big club head just enough for Speckles to squeeze in.

That's the news from Golden Calf Acres, where the water is fresh and the horses are well-hydrated.

My Big Baby Boy's Birthday

2007-05-25T20:25:00.000-07:00

Speckles turned four today. How can that be? My life is a rocket ship traveling at the speed of light. Just a rotation of the earth ago, Speckles looked like this:

Speckles, his mommy, Tim, and Logan looked like this:

Lukey, Speckles, Dancer:

(Speaking of Luke, did you notice how casually I mentioned yesterday he had started Driver's Ed?)

I bought Speckles' mom, Dancer, so Buckles would have a buddy. After I had her for a while, I realized she was really good and worth breeding. About this time, my Grandma Anne died and my mom inherited some money. In turn, she gave me and my siblings each $1500 dollars. I used mine to have Dancer bred to San Jo Freckles, a reining horse who went on to win the gold medal at the World Equestrian Games in Spain. He did this while Dancer was pregnant. I was following the results on-line and about died when he won the gold. Anyway, in a really cool coincidence, Speckles was born on May 25th, which I'll always remember because that's my Grandma Anne's birthday.

And today, the plumber was here; the plumber was here. So Speckles got this for his birthday:

A brand new waterer.

But ya gotta 'neak up on it:

"Hey, Speck. You got my back?"

"I gotcha buddy. I'll touch it if you will."

That's the thing about being a prey animal. Lions, tigers, and automatic waterers might want to eat you.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Speck.

All the rest of you, go dole out hugs and take photos of those you love because they change so incredibly fast. Tomorrow they'll look completely different than they do today. And some of 'em (gulp)will be in driver's ed.

Laundry List

2007-05-24T20:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks to No Impact Man and Crunchy Chicken, I no longer use my dryer. During the day, this rack goes out on the porch (in the shade to prevent fading). I bring it in at dinnertime, fold the clothes sometime in the evening, then put another load on it. I'm liking it more than I thought I would. The clothes look pressed, smell good, and the pace is more leisurely than when I used my dryer. I was a slave to my dryer because I always wanted to fold the clothes while they were hot (before they wrinkled).

Logan saw my drying rack and said, "Is this because of saving the environment?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I really respect you for that," he said. I shot a look at him, a quick sarcasm scan. He saw me.

"Seriously," he said. "That is really cool."

But nothing I do is enough for No Impact Man. Today he is talking about bees. Specifically, the lack of bees. The dearth of bees. The Great Bee Die-Off of 2007.

Now, maybe you think the die-off of stinging little buzz factories might not be such a bad thing. But anyone who likes to eat should think again. Without these little pollinators there will be no crops. No apples. No pears. No...other things bees pollinate. So No Impact Man is proposing that more people become bee keepers. And here's the punch line: I'm thinking about it!

At the bookstore tonight, killing time between dropping Luke off for Driver's Ed and going to Logan's band concert, I perused books about...beekeeping. But remembering that buying things made of trees is bad for the environment, I decided I should check out my library's selection of bee books. Luckily, it was closed by the time the band concert ended.

Maybe this will pass before I ever make it to the library. But if not, Tim, this is your heads up. Honey, we're gonna be bee-keepers!

Burning questions

2007-05-23T20:32:00.000-07:00

Today's burning questions are based on yesterday's post:

What is the thing you were born to do? The thing you loved as a child and could spend hours lost in; the thing that made time disappear?

Do you still do that thing today?

If not, would you like to still be doing that thing today?

Do you have a dream you are pursuing? How does the pursuit of your dream enrich your life?

World Championship Life

2007-05-22T20:52:00.000-07:00

My mom is the latest in a string of folks telling me I have to read The Secret.

Whenever someone tells me this, they then go on to tell me what the secret is: If you believe in your dream you can make it come true. The book, I've been told, is full of stories of dreamers who made their dreams come true.

All well and good. However, I don't need to read the book because I already believe this premise and put it into action daily.

I get up every morning, go outside, feed my horses, and ride. I do this every day because I am a forty-six-year-old mother of two who has an Olympic dream. Seriously.

I know the odds of me realizing my dream are small, although not without precedent. A couple of Olympics ago, a retired mounted police officer named Klaus Balkenhol rode on the German dressage team when he was in his sixties. (Today he is the coach of the US Dressage team.) He won an individual medal and the German team won the gold medal (as they always do).

Mr. Balkenhol is my talisman against skeptics (read: Tim). If he can do it, so can I. The dream keeps me going out to the barn every day: saddling up, riding, mucking stalls, hauling water buckets, reading, learning, growing, exercising (body and mind). I often think of another secret I read somewhere that went like this: This is not your practice life. This is your World Championship Life. Play it like you mean it.

Even though my chances, as Tim would say, are slim and none, I hold tight to my Olympic dream.

Here's the real secret: With my dream, I might not make the Olympics. Without my dream, I definitely won't make it.

Take a number

2007-05-21T21:03:00.000-07:00

If you want to make me mad today, you have to get in line.

Get in line behind the plumber I've been waiting on for three weeks to install my automatic waterer in the horse pasture. We've trenched out the water line and taken out the old pump that leaked, leaving me with no water at the barn. I'm carrying buckets of water from the house to the barn three times a day.

Get in line behind our friend who is also our computer tech guy who has been telling me for two months he will add hard drive space to my computer so I can make videos. The reason I wanted this was to make graduation slide shows for two dear friends of ours. Graduation is here, Computer Tech Friend, but my hard drive is not.

Get in line behind my friend Pidgy who is supposedly building my riding arena. Okay, I have sand; I'm riding in it. But the time for getting grass seed to grow in all the dirt surrounding the arena is past. It's hot now, and dry. No Pidgy sighting for a week.

The thing that really gripes my butt is this: If it were my husband who had hired these people, the work would have been done a long time ago. I said as much to him yesterday. "It's because I'm female," I said. "If you wanted this stuff done, it'd be done." He had the decency to look sheepish, shrug his shoulders, and say, "You're right."

If you want to make me mad today, take a number.

Disabled Passions

2007-05-15T21:40:00.000-07:00

Hey, Joanie and Queenie and any other interested parties:

Check out this link to see my brother's profile on Disabled Passions.

If you have time, look at some of the other profiles. They'll break your heart and you'll fall in love with all of them. These are folks living on the edge. They don't have time for games.

What else can I add to stir up interest in my bros' info?

Hectic Mother's Day Weekend

2007-05-13T20:39:00.000-07:00

It has been the most hectic Mother's Day; I'm too exhausted to think so I'm posting some photos from the weekend.

The environmental degradation--also known as the building of the riding arena--goes on.

Me on the compacter, working on my tan, kinda.

Luke's track is also still going on. His best time this season: two miles in 10:59. Ten minutes, fifty-nine seconds. To put this in perspective, I've been working out on the treadmill for nigh on two winters and I'm still trying to do one mile in less than eleven minutes.

Mother's Day lunch was at my house today; a small affair attended by my mom and step-dad and my two brothers in addition to the four of us who live here. After lunch, I cut my brother Michael's hair and shaved him all up. We're trying to get him presentable so he can post photos on the Disabled Passions website. After years of trying to date un-disabled women who like the fact that he gets a monthly paycheck from Social Security, he says he is ready to date a "nice, normal, disabled woman who won't use me."

I wish I had taken "before" photos because we turned a mountain man into this:

Any one looking for a guy with a heart of gold?

The purpose of this next photo is to make my sister pea-green with envy. She's in Germany with her new man but I'm here on Mother's Day with the world's best momma:

Look at our beautiful roses. Two dozen each! From Tim!

Well, kinda.

Actually, they're from my neighbor (the yard-anal guy) who has more dollars than sense. Turns out he thought he ordered two dozen roses for his wife but mistakenly ordered twenty-four dozen. He told his wife the delivery company made a mistake. Anyway, he had lots of roses to get rid of and since he adores me (a post for another day) he asked Tim if he wanted some roses to give as mother's day gifts. My wonderful husband remembered to grab up an extra bunch for my mom while he was at it.

Better than the roses were the laugh we got at my neighbor's expense. Trust me, I'll never let him forget the year he got me roses for Mother's Day.

Burning question

2007-05-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

My house is exactly as clean as it needs to be so I can ride everyday without fighting with my husband.

How clean is your house?

Gratuitous photo of me and Speckles; taken by good photographer, Logan.

I'm too predictable

2007-05-09T09:08:00.000-07:00

Whenever we are getting ready to go anywhere, Tim paces around outside the bathroom door urging me to hurry. When I pick up the hairspray, he hollers to the boys, "She's spraying her hair, guys. Get in the van."

When I tack up for a ride, Trixie (my dog) watches me intently. I always put the bridle on last thing before leading the horse out of the stall. When I pick up the bridle, Trixie begins whining. She too is urging me to hurry because she lives for trail rides.

Then the other day I had this conversation with Logan.

Logan: "Where are you going?"

Me: "What makes you think I'm going anywhere?"

Logan: "You took a shower."

I'm entirely too predictable.

Lawn mowers and riding arenas

2007-05-06T20:10:00.000-07:00

Tim and I had a heated discussion yesterday.

He wasn't happy with me because I bought myself a little something that impinged on his territory:

Logan vannas my brand new mower!

My discussion with Tim went like this:

"You're going to save five gallons of gas over the course of the summer with this mower," he said. "It's not worth it. It won't even make a dent in the amount of gas that has been burned up in the making of your riding arena." (Not that Tim cares about the environment; he's mad about the arena on general principles and he's hitting where he knows it'll hurt me.)

"I know, I know," I said, hating that he had a point. The truth is, I thought building an outdoor riding arena meant pushing a little dirt out of the way then filling in with some sand. In reality, I am in the middle of a project involving many truck loads of sand and gravel and a bobcat-thingy moving all the stuff around. It has been an environmental travesty.

Mid-mess with a lot of stress

"Well, what about you," I said. "Why do you even read books about our energy and national security issues if you're never going to do anything about it? If there was such a thing as a hybrid straight truck, would you buy it?" (His business is a small trucking company.) (Also, see how I employed the strategy of the best offense being a good defense? Oh, the marital dynamics going on here.)

"Yeah," he said, "I don't think there's such a thing available, but if there was, I'd buy it. If I could save ten thousand gallons of gas, that would be worth doing. It would make a difference."

I thought about this for a second.

"But," I said, "I keep thinking if enough people do the little things, maybe none of us will have to do the big things."

For instance, "If every American home replaced just one light bulb with a [compact fluorescent], we would save enough energy to light more than 2.5 million homes for a year and prevent greenhouse gases equivalent to the emissions of nearly 800,000 cars," according to www.energystar.gov.

Those are some impressive numbers. And that's if everyone switches one bulb to a compact fluorescent.

In the past month, I've switched twenty-four light bulbs to compact fluorescents. I've replaced tampons with a nifty Diva cup, taken bags with me to use at the grocery store, bought my cute little mower (which works great), bought a natty silver coat to insulate the water heater, got us taken off of mailing lists, and I'm researching vehicles for mileage and emissions ahead of the time when Luke takes over my mini-van. I've recycled for years. I'm cheap so reducing and reusing are second nature.

But I look at these two photos: my little reel mower against those big trucks. And I have to wonder if Tim's right.

Do these little things make a difference?

Comments and clickers

2007-05-02T18:12:00.000-07:00

None of my family and friends who tell me they read my blog ever leave me a comment, therefore, I am inordinately pleased when folks I've never even met take the time to write me a note to let me know they were here.

Ahem....

Many thanks, then, to Crunchy Chicken, who left me this message about the previous post discussing Speckle's potty training:

"Holy crap," said she, "That horse is a genius."

Well, I don't know about genius. I prefer to think of him as a guy who's had his consciousness raised. He is very open minded in all things which is very important in horses. And men. But that's another post.

Our dog, Trixie, was the first animal we clicker trained. By we, I mean mostly Logan and I, with Luke and Tim occasionally putting in their two cents' worth. In my mind, there was Trixie BC (before the clicker) and Trixie AC (you know...). She too had her consciousness raised. Literally - her consciousness raised, her mind opened. You could see her begin to process stuff, begin to figure things out. You could see her think.

(Here's a short video of Logan training Trixie. This is first video I've posted; it's taken me three days to figure out how to do. Sorry about the quality. I know Logan and Trixie look as if they're in the witness protection program. I'm working on it.)

You don't need a clicker to use the principles of clicker training. The clicker is helpful when training animals because it marks the moment the good thing happened. Example - I'm teaching my dog to sit. After ten minutes of pushing on her butt, she gets tired and sits. But by the time I've fished out a treat and given it to her, she is standing. So she doesn't know exactly what it was she did that earned the treat. With people you can just say, I really liked that you sat when I asked, so here's some chocolate. (You don't really need the chocolate either; the compliment is enough, although an occasional chocolate doesn't hurt.)

These principles are based on the science of behavior. Read that again, it's important. The science of behavior. Science, as in research with animals in laboratories; not folklore or guesswork which so much animal training through the centuries has been.

Here are the most important things to know about training any creature or changing any creature's behavior:

1. Reward good behavior and you will get more of it.

2. Ignore unwanted behavior and it will disappear.

(Dangerous behavior has to be stopped in its tracks; "punishment" only works when it stops the behavior; I say, act crazy when you stop the behavior so you leave a lasting impression on the trainee. You want to scare him, not hurt him.)

Here's another important thing: These things are already taking place in every relationship you are in. If you are getting bad behavior, then you are somehow rewarding it (usually by paying attention to it; any kind of attention is rewarding. There's nothing worse than throwing a fit and no-one noticing.)

An example: We were babysitting a friend's two-year-old son a couple of weeks ago. He began to get upset when he realized his mom was leaving, even though he had been rude to her while she was here talking to us. We shooed her out the door, assuring her he/we would be fine. The boy threw himself on the floor and began to cry angrily. Tim, Logan, and I kept up our conversation, sometimes having to talk rather loud to hear each other over his angry fit. After seven or eight minutes of not getting any attention from us, he got up and began playing with his toys. He showed us his toys and we played with him and it was very pleasant. We rewarded him with a lot of attention.

I worry that this sounds like a game. Realize that you are already playing this game in every relationship you are in - with children, parents, siblings, co-workers, pets, etc. I'm just giving you the rules so you can make them work for you instead of...you know, losing.

In our family, we all know the rules. We talk all the time about positive reinforcement and negative reinforcement. A while back, Logan wanted me to snuggle with him on a day when we were having a family reunion the next day. I was buzzing around the house trying to get everything ready; Logan was laying on the couch feeling sick. I hate to say no to snuggling. (I am so lucky he wants to snuggle.) So I said, "Logan, I can't snuggle now because every time I do I get negative reinforcement from you because you make me feel guilty when I have to quit snuggling." Right away, he said, "Okay, if you snuggle with me for 15 minutes I promise I won't make you feel guilty when you get up." Deal.

I have barely scratched the surface of all the good things to be learned from clicker training and the science of behavior. To learn more, read Don't Shoot the Dog by Karen Pryor. It's a great book with lots of examples of many different creatures being trained. Also, check out some good training articles on Karen Pryor's website.

Thanks again to Crunchy Chicken for her comment about Speckles. Thanks in advance to my wonderful family and friends who are getting ready to leave comments. You all are wonderful. Go have a chocolate, on me.

Another Very Cool Horse

2007-04-29T20:05:00.000-07:00

Today, as I was unsaddling Speckles after a trail ride, Tim walked into the barn and told me a story that warmed the cockles of my heart.

"That stupid horse," he began, with a nod toward Speckles so I would know which stupid horse he was referring to this time. He continued, "I was out here in the barn yesterday and Speckles came running in to his stall, backed up to the muck bucket, and pooped in it."

Well, glory be.

My decidedly not stupid Speckles:

To take this photo, I stood in the doorway at the front of his stall. Behind him is the gate into the pasture. (It's all dirt out there because we're in the process of building an outdoor riding arena.) The red thing in the corner is the muck bucket.

Since he was born, Speckles has always chosen his pooping spots carefully. He backs up to things to do his business - the fence, a tree, the corner of his stall. This made a lightbulb go off over my head. Perhaps, I thought, I can take this tendency of his and teach him to do his business in the muck bucket. A very cool behavior and one less chore for me.

Training commenced. At first I put the muck bucket in his stall and watched to see what happened. He was masterful at pooping to either side of it. But, because I had begun paying attention, I began to notice when he pooped. He often went as soon as he entered the stall in the morning to be fed. Or, if not when he first entered the stall, then it would be about twenty minutes after he ate. More often than not, I missed it when he pooped. He would do it when I was dishing out grain or while I was next door feeding my neighbor girl's horses.

But a couple of times, I was ready. I would see him take the turn around the stall to put his butt in the corner. He already knew how to "target" on my hand, to follow it, so I used this skill to back him up so he was lined up with the bucket. And he'd stand there wondering what I wanted, trying to figure it out. While he stood there, I "clicked" occasionally and gave him a treat just for standing lined up with the bucket. Some days he moved just enough to miss the bucket, then pooped real fast. Other days, he just decided to hold it until I grew tired of the game. Then I'd open his gate and he'd go outside and poop.

But then one day, he pooped and it landed in the muck bucket. Ding, ding, I chimed. Speckles knows what this means. It means he did something really good, something that earned him a jackpot - a half cup of sweet feed. (His regular food is a pellet. More nutritious but not as tasty as oats and corn covered with molasses.) Wow, I could hear him thinking. A jackpot for pooping?

Then it happened a second time. Maybe it was a week or ten days later. By now, Speckles knew what I wanted had something to do with the bucket and something to do with pooping but he hadn't put it all together. I could see his brain spinning as he began experimenting to see what kind of poop earned a jackpot. Poop to the left. Nothing. Poop to the right, ditto. Poop in the middle. Ding, ding. At this point, he began pooping all the time as soon as he entered the stall. It was now a game we were playing. He knew there was a jackpot in it for him if I saw him poop in the bucket.

Eventually, it happened that I would come out in the morning and find fresh poop in the bucket. Speckles and Mr. B come up and stand in their stalls to sleep so I figured he was up there napping then took a little poo before he went back out to graze.

He got rewarded more and more often. He got used to the particular position he needed to be in in order for the manure to land in the bucket. He got used to the feel of his tail brushing against the bucket (something he did not like in the beginning).

So I knew he was getting good at this.

However, I never expected that he would be out lolly-gagging around the pasture with Mr. B, munching on some good green grass, and he would feel a little poopy urge and a lightbulb would go off in his head that said, ooo, I should run up to the barn and go in the muck bucket.

Is that too cool or what?

I hope this little story warmed the cockles of your heart, too.

My sweet Speckles

My Very Cool Horse

2007-04-28T20:39:00.000-07:00

His registered name is Doctor Buckles but he answers to Mr. B. He is a nineteen-year-old Thoroughbred ex-racehorse; I bought him when he was twelve. At that time, he still thought he was a race horse. I have been riding him four or five times a week for the past six and a half years. We are finally figuring things out.

Me and The Amazing Mr. B.

Funny thing, every time my riding got better my horse got better, too. And now this old guy (and old gal) are able to canter like this.

For those of you unfamiliar with horses/riding, let me point out what's good here. See how far his hind legs are under his body? See how carrying himself with his hind legs under him allows him to be up and free in his shoulders? See how his head is flexed (nose kind of tucked in, not out or up and pulling), this means he is right in my hands and we are very quietly communicating through the reins. Note also the "listening" position of his ears.

Last but not least, see how upright my position is? If you took Buckles out from underneath me, I would land standing on my feet. It took me forever to be able to get and keep this position in motion, but without me in this balanced, controlled position, Buckles would not be able to do the neat things he is doing.

We have come a long way in the six years we've been together. He used to lean on the reins so hard my shoulders ached. The correction for a leaning horse is to put your legs on and try to push the hind legs under his body. Back then, if I put my legs on, Buckles became electrified with the thought that I was asking him to RACE! And we would be off, pounding over uneven ground with him leaning on the bit for all he was worth.

One day, at our old house, I was riding Buckles through several inches of snow next to the road. I thought, well, if I'm going to fall off, I might as well fall off in snow. So I asked for the canter. About this time our neighbor, also a horseman, drove up behind us and began keeping pace with us. He later reported to the other horsemen in the community that he clocked us at 40 mph. I was mildly famous in that neighborhood because of this.

Through it all, I could see Buckles had great natural ability to do dressage movements. He did them not under saddle, but when he was free in the pasture. The flying lead changes, the piaffe, the passage were all in there; I just had to become a good enough rider to get them out.

We're getting there.

Look for me and my buddy in the 2012 Olympics.

National Honor Society inductee

2007-04-27T12:14:00.000-07:00

Luke and his mentor/theatre teacher after the ceremony.

Luke was inducted into his high school's chapter of the National Honor Society this week.

I have this thought going through my head of something I read once, advising mothers to forgive themselves for mistakes their children make. The author's reasoning was that, as mothers, we don't have to take the blame when they're bad because we don't take the credit when they're good. When, for instance, they get good grades or are accidentally nice to siblings.

The thing is, if one of my kids ever did something really bad, there would be no end to me blaming myself. So I feel entirely justified in taking the credit when one of them does something good.

Not only did I carry him in my belly for nine months - nay, forty weeks which by my reckoning is ten months - I sang to him, read to him, played music for him while he was in there. I ate healthy foods, gave up alcohol (easy)and caffeine (not so easy).

I endured labor. Medals should be awarded.

At each stage of his life, in-utero and ex-utero, I read books and magazines and anything I could get my hands on to make sure he was keeping up and growing up and reaching all the milestones experts said he should reach.

And he's so much like me: he's curious, he reads, he thinks.

The credit is mine! All mine!

(Maniacal mommy laughter...)

And if one of my boys ever does do something bad, it'll be because of that unfortunate gene they got from their father, of course.

Housekeeping

2007-04-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

I thought I began this blog as a place to finally record all the recipes I've said for years I was going to write down. But I'm a Piddler; by definition I lack focus. I have been off on all kinds of tangents and began to think the recipes slowed the blog down. But I still want them recorded so I'm starting a new blog--The Piddler's Recipes or something (anyone have a better name? Please?)where, when I mention food here, I will link it to the recipe blog. I hope it will be a good compromise and not too much extra work. An experiment in blogging. Naw, not an experiment, an adventure.

Environmental Goddess

2007-04-23T14:23:00.000-07:00

Yep. That's me.

I spent the day recuperating from the weekend. I rode Buckles, piddled around doing housework, made chicken salad (which is the first thing I crave when the weather turns hot), and baked lemon bars.

While the lemon bars baked, I went to No Impact Man's blog and, as I've been promising myself, started at the beginning. It was slow going because I kept stopping to do the things he suggests. So far today I removed myself and Tim from junk mail lists here (at a cost of $1 each name and about 1 minute).

I removed us from credit card mailing lists by calling 888-567-8688.

And I replaced twelve regular light bulbs with the compact florescent bulbs I bought a month ago but never got around to actually installing.

The title Environmental Goddess is very tongue in cheek. That's what I'd like to be but, so far, all I've done is the easy stuff. I recycle. I reduce and re-use but that might be more because I'm cheap than because of the environment. I turn off lights, do errands when I'm already in town, run the laundry and the dishwasher only when they're full. Again, maybe because I'm more cheap than green.

Even now, I have mixed motives for my renewed green-ness. I have stuck in my head a statement from a New York Times article where a general (I think) said something to the effect that buying oil from the Middle East is funding the rope to hang ourselves. In my heart of hearts, I know this is true.

As I know that billions of humans on our little planet hurtling through space cannot help but have some kind of effect--on climate, on air quality, on water, on resources. Frankly, I'm tired of the debate. I read somewhere else (don't remember where) if a doctor told me my kid was sick and there was a ninety-percent chance his illness was caused by eating too much peanut butter, then I'd get him off the peanut butter. I have to wonder, at what percentage of certainty will I think I should do more for my planet?

Best Day of the Year

2007-04-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

The day the volleyball net goes up is the best day of the year.

Today, the court was already crowded and waiting while Tim did the deed. In the middle of it, his phone rang but he worked on.

Finally, the games began.

Luke and Logan played doubles against some friends. Here's Logan going up for the big spike.

(Tim still has phone to ear.)

Luke sets Logan up for another kill:

(Tim still on phone, talking to his dad but itching to get off the phone and play ball.)

A shot of Luke and Logan and my yard-anal neighbor's park-like grounds.

Tim and I met in a volleyball league more than twenty years ago. Now, sand volleyball is our family sport. For sure, this is the best day of the year around here.

Heart sore

2007-04-18T20:15:00.000-07:00

Better are the days when the New York Times' headlines are lame. Today they are anything but...

Iran Exonerates Six Who Killed in Islam's Name - one engaged couple was killed for being "immoral" because they walked together in public.

Bombs Rip Through Baghdad, Killing 171 - "five horrific explosions aimed mainly at Shiite crowds"

And then the news and video from Virginia Tech.

Trying to write about it seems to trivialize it.

Trying to understand it...impossible.

Here's one thing I'd like to know: When do these people have time for this stuff? I am so busy living and trying to keep my own nose - not to mention my house - clean. How do these people have time to obsess so much about what others are doing? Do they eat? Do laundry? Study? Work?

A question: Do I really want to know how killers think?

A thought: Maybe it's a mistake to think all killers think alike.

Final question: What would the world be like if every person focused on cleaning up his or her own act?

(Question to self: Where to start?)

I won't take it for granted anymore when the headlines are lame. That's a good news day.

Road Trip

2007-04-15T20:42:00.000-07:00

Been gone to Pennslyvania to look at a college for Luke. I just wrote about adjusting to the thought of him driving; compound that with the fact that he'll be a senior next year and then leave me to go to college. I can't breathe when I think about it.

When they were little it seemed we had all the time in the world....

I wish you all knew Luke; if you did, you'd have renewed faith in the next generation.

When Luke goes off to college, it will be as if Logan is an only child. That makes me sad for Logan. Who's gonna teach a kid hard lessons better than a sibling?

Luke fell in love with the college we visited, the Robert E. Cook Honors College at the Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Luke was in geek heaven; he met a bunch of kids who think like him which is to say so brilliant it's freaky. I was impressed with the Honors College more than I was with the university overall.

The big downer is that it takes five hours to drive there. That means I won't be able to pop over for a music recital or a marching band performance or a play; it means I'll have to pick and choose one thing or another. With Logan still in school, I'll end up missing most of the things Luke will be in.

How do mothers survive this stuff? Is there a support group for Mothers Whose Firstborn Is Moving Away?

I think I need a hug...

Busy Patting Myself on the Back

2007-04-11T10:39:00.000-07:00

I finally sat down and e-mailed all the companies who send me catalogs and other mail and asked to be removed from their mailing list. I'm totally inspired by No Impact Man. This is one of those things I've meant to do for a long time but never got around to doing. It was easier than I thought and took less time than I expected.

I even made suggestions to my favorite (horse catalog) companies. Instead of sending me a catalog, they should send me an e-mail inviting me to their web-site. Maybe they could even put my name in a drawing for ten dollars (or something) off my next purchase if I visit the website. It seems like a win-win-win situation to me - less mail for me to wade through, less cost to the company, less impact on the environment.

Yep. Feeling pretty good here. Excuse me for a moment while I pat myself on the back.

In other news
Kamikaze Kardinal is back. Well, actually he never left the yard; I have heard him and seen him in the trees around the house. I now realize he has been flying around studying the guards posted at the windows and has deduced that they never move. Therefore, he reasoned, all is safe to renew his assault.

He is lovely and vigorous but he ain't right in the head. I'm not sure it's a good thing if this guy breeds. Any birders out there have any advice or opinion on this matter?

Feeling Random

2007-04-09T19:27:00.000-07:00

Now eating a bowl of ice cream called Death by Chocolate. That's how I want to go.

Speaking of going, at our next big family get-together, we are having a Living Will Festival. I will provide the necessary paperwork; those who wish to join in the festivities and ensure their future death and burial wishes are carried out can fill out the appropriate forms and have other family members sign as witnesses. Even take home copies as keepsakes. Woo-hoo.

I've been using Tim's manly man deodorant and it works better than my girlie girl stuff. Smells okay, too.

The National Debt Clock shows that our nation's debt is nearing 9 trillion dollars; it increases by nearly 2 billion dollars every day. To pay it off, it would cost every US citizen nearly $30 thousand dollars. How did this happen? It makes me sad to think of my beloved country in this quandary.

Logan has been reading the Margaret Peterson Haddix books about the Shadow Children and he's loving them. At his insistence, Tim and I are reading them too. We have had some great conversations about the "Population Police." Logan was bowled over to learn that in China couples are only allowed to have one child. He couldn't believe that his books could be true. Or that, in real life, governments could/would regulate the number of children folks could have. I love books for kids that make kids think.

I feel sad today about the Guantanamo Bay prisoners holding a hunger strike. I feel sad that they have been in prison for five years without a trial (without charges pressed against them, even). Isn't a fair and speedy trial one of our basic tenets? I used to write messages for Luke and Logan, posted where they'd see 'em every time they pooped, that said, Being nice when it's easy to be nice doesn't count near as much as being nice when it's hard to be nice and Giving folks a fair and speedy trial when it's easy to give a fair and speedy trial doesn't illuminate democracy near as much as giving folks a fair and speedy trial when they might be enemy combatants. Or something like that. Does anyone have access to bathrooms in the capital so I could post my mom notes there?

Oh, and am I the only one who thinks it mighty strange that Guantanamo Bay is in Cuba? Fidel Castro land? Sometimes I feel as if I've fallen down the rabbit hole with Alice. The landscape has shifted 'til I can't make out what's strange, what's normal.

I'm feeling very random today but expect to feel better tomorrow cause the weather report says: "The sun'll come out tomorrow, tomorrow."

Easter Snow

2007-04-07T21:14:00.000-07:00

We are fighting the winter blahs.

Spring was just flirting with us; she has not committed. We are forcing ourselves to keep going while the easy chair and blankets sing their siren song: "Come hibernate; rest yourself until winter is really over."

The resistance goes weakly on.

Today we resisted by washing sheets!

Tim pausing to flex for the photographer.

Got to love a guy who washes sheets and has something that flexes when he does.

We had an on-going game of Scrabble all day. It's the best way to play: Tim takes a turn, goes and washes sheets. I finish what I'm doing then take a turn. I get lots of time to try to come up with words that use all my letters without Tim sitting there huffing and sighing because I take too long.

Here's Tim cheating when he thinks I'm not looking.

The boys were off in different directions all day. We didn't get around to coloring eggs until 9 p.m.

A portrait of the artist currently known as Logan:

Lukey's default position:

My bunny eggs singing "Little Rabbit Foo-Foo:

(Logan did not think I would post that photo.)

I heard Tim say this to Logan today: "You kids'll be digging Easter eggs out with a snow shovel tomorrow."

I don't know if I can stand it. The easy chairs need to shut up already.

Vehicular Shopicide

2007-04-05T07:26:00.000-07:00

Luke's upcoming 16th birthday in June has me in a tizzy for more reasons than I can count.

First of all, how is it possible he is turning 16? He was just born, oh, three years ago....wasn't he?

Lukey, the day before yesterday.

How is it he will be driving? Driving himself to all the things he now needs me to drive him to? Who will sing Broadway tunes with him at top of lungs until our destination is reached? Who will sing with me?

(Pause for panic attack. Can't breathe, can't breathe.)

Okay.

However, my most impending problem right now is finding a vehicle. Not for Luke; for me. Luke will inherit my mini-van. It's reliable and...um...reliable. And it's not the smallest vehicle on the road. Luke will have Visibility.

So I am shopping for a vehicle.

I like to think of myself as a person who considers vehicles purely as instruments for getting from point A to point B. No status symbols for me. No Mercedes. No Beamer. No Jag.

What I say I want is the most fuel-efficient vehicle I can find that will get me where I'm going and have room for groceries or the occasional saddle or two. So basically I'm looking for the most fuel-efficient hatchback out there. That's what I say. That's what I like to believe I believe.

So far, I've found three vehicles that meet my criteria:

Ford Focus Hatchback. I e-mailed Ford to ask about a fuel-efficient hatchback and they got right back with me about the Focus. It gets 27 mpg city/37 mpg highway. That's pretty good mileage. Plus, Ford gets points for having a place on their web-site where I could contact them. They get points for getting right back with me. They get little bitty extra points for still being, in my mind, an American Company.

Chevy Malibu Hatchback. This is a car I have noticed on the road. It's actually kind of cute. The Chevy web-site doesn't give much info, but I parked next to a guy in Lowe's parking lot last week and accosted him as he was getting out of his Malibu hatchback. Did he like it? Yes, very much. Gas mileage? About 30 mpg. I tried to contact Chevy from their website; if there is a way to e-mail them, I couldn't find it. They lost points for that. The gas mileage is okay but nothing spectacular. Like Ford, they get the "American Company" extra credit.

Here is the vehicle I am trying to love: Volkswagen Golf. It gets forty-four miles per gallon on the highway. Forty. Four. And it looks...okay. Volkswagen gets big points for truth in advertising. Volkswagen Golf. Golf...golf...yes, it does resemble a golf cart.

Could I learn to love it?

I am humbled to admit that maybe I want a vehicle that gets great mileage and is a little bit cool. Or great mileage and cute. I'd settle for cute.

War is Over?

2007-04-04T11:02:00.000-07:00

It's quiet here today.

Strangely quiet.

Too quiet.

I'm waiting; listening. Surely I can't have won this easily.

Who would have thought I'd miss the challenge of outwitting my foe?

I've seen him in the trees today, where he always hangs out when he's pretending not to be the crazed bird banging on the windows.

Is that it? The war is over?

A War of Will

2007-04-03T20:05:00.000-07:00

We are under seige.

Kamikaze Kardinal is winning.

He has found the two windows in our house that don't have screens and he throws himself against one or the other of these windows relentlessly.

I worry that he will either hurt himself or be shot by my husband. His incessant banging against the windows is making us crazy.

For a couple of days, I snuck up on him as he banged away and I jumped at the window like a madman and scared him. He's savvy, though, and began to sit innocently singing in the tree whenever he saw me skulking about. As soon as I gave up, he was back at the windows.

Plan B: A guard was posted at one of the windows:

That's Mister Big Bird to you, buddy.

Mr. Big Bird was effective. See Mr. Innocent sitting in the tree trying to look nonchalant? However, it didn't take him long to think, hey, I'll go check the front window.

Picture this: bird frantically flinging himself against window; human frantically cutting black construction paper and taping human silhouette to said window.

Bird not slowing for a second.

Bird singing mockingly on windowsill:

Human pondering further. Thinking okay, Big Bird was effective. Why? Because he's a bird? Because, unlike the paper silhouette, he's three dimensional? Because he's bright yellow and has big eyes?

Hhhhmmmmm.....what else might we have here?

Guard number two:

Garfield on duty.

Very effective. So far.

The war goes on. Kazi is an unknowing participant in my behavior experiments.

Or perhaps I'm an unknowing participant in his behavior experiments.

The World's Most Spoiled Person:

2007-04-01T19:05:00.000-07:00

Is me.

Today's my 46th birthday. I am the world's most spoiled person.

Last night, my boys took me to LaComedia dinner/theatre to eat good food and see Oklahoma! the musical. It was a fun time.

This morning, my actual birthday, while still lying abed I heard busy-ness in the kitchen. I was offered the choice between breakfast in bed or breakfast at the table with everyone else. I chose breakfast with everyone else. I got up in time to catch the cooks in action:

Luke serenaded breakfast, playing songs he knows I like.

Then I went out to feed the animals, clean the barn, and ride Speckles. We had a long, fun trail ride. Logan took photos for me as we were leaving.

Tim made me a masterpiece:

He asked, "Does it matter if you use corn syrup instead of the vegetable oil that the recipe on the box calls for?" I thought, oh no. But it turns out it doesn't matter. The texture was a little different but if you didn't know he substituted corn syrup for the oil, you'd never have known.

Then, joy, joy, joy, mom and Poppy got here. They've been in Florida for three months and just got home yesterday. It was great to see them. Especially my mom - she is especially special to me.

They brought Kentucky Fried Chicken for a late lunch and another cake. Mom made what we call Grandma Rose's Special Cake.

(Is anyone keeping a tally of how much food so far?)

Me and my boys:

Getting ready to blow out the candles:

Riding my New Bike:

(Got to get some sun on those legs.)

Then at dark, the chorus of spring peepers started up in my neighbor's ponds. We got our flashlights and camera and went to see nature's version of a Roman bath house. Logan took these photos:

Hear spring peepers calling here.

One last photo. This is what 46 looks like (on me).

The World's Most Spoiled Person signing off.

News flash

2007-03-28T18:25:00.000-07:00

Here is a paraphrase of somethin I just heard on NPR:

Two executives from the company hired to build the fence on the USA / Mexico border were fined $5 million dollars today. . . . for hiring illegal aliens.

That kind of irony gives me goose bumps.

Track meet

2007-03-27T20:02:00.000-07:00

Tim and Luke are beaming tonight; it was another successful track meet.

Luke finished fourth in the mile (first time he's ever raced the mile); then he finished second in the two mile. He makes running distances look easy. (He did not get this gift from me.)

Way to go, Luke. You make us proud in so many ways.

Michiganigans:

I've been to Michigan checking in on all my bag accounts. It was a successful trip; my customers are so nice. And I'm not just saying that because I think they'll stumble upon my blog as they cruise the 'net. The folks in Michigan were laid back and actually seemed kind of glad (?) to see a sales rep. They had all day to talk.

Everyone was pleasant all day long except the waitress I had at lunch who was cloying and hovering; she was on some rocking stimulant. I was reading but she never missed a chance to interrupt to see if I needed anything. What I needed was for her to leave me alone.

One other complaint and that's it - I was doing all that driving, zig-zagging back and forth across Michigan and it was Michigan Public Radio's pledge drive week. So I only got half of every show. Sigh.

Oh well, I turned on my iPod and sang myself hoarse. It served well to keep me awake while driving. All in all, a good trip.

Better to be home, though, with my boys.

We're Under Attack!

2007-03-25T14:11:00.000-07:00

See this guy? Doesn't he look like he's just hanging around, whistling a happy tune?

Think again.

This is Kamikaze Kardinal.

He is pissed at the birdie in the window.

We spent too much time this morning watching this guy beat himself up against our window. How do we get him to stop this foolishness before he hurts himself?

If you called me on the phone and said, Hey, what are you up to? I would think for a minute, draw a complete blank, then, mumble, uh, nothin'. Which is not true; we are always up to something, I just can't ever think of what it is we are up to when asked. The great thing about blogging is that I try to capture what we're up to while we're up to it. Here are photos of what we were up to today.

Logan, Trixie, and I took a walk in the Nature Preserve:

Trixie is part swine:

We saw two snakes. If you look, you can see there is a big snake (momma?) and a little snake in this photo. Question: I thought snakes just laid eggs that hatched later without benefit of parental intervention. Do snakes raise their babies?

While Logan and I were lolly-gagging around the nature preserve, Tim was hard at work digging a trench behind the barn so that we can install an automatic waterer for the horses (yay!). You can't tell in the photos, but the trench goes all the way around the back of the barn so that the downspout drainage can go down to our neighbor's pond instead of flooding all around the back of the barn.

Tim finally got some help from me.

It wasn't all bad though, cause it gave him an excuse to use his new macho tractor.

Okay, it wasn't all fun tractor work. Thanks, Honey. Huge brownie points for you!

(Important point to my girlie friends out there - don't shorts and work boots on a shapely leg just do it for you? Me too!)

Okay, Luke is gonna kill me if I don't brag on him. He ran in his first track meet yesterday, the two miler, and came in 11th (out of 24) with a time of 11 minutes and 34 seconds. It was a big, tough, invitational meet, Lukey's first ever, and he did great. I don't have any photos cause I missed it - I was with Logan at the junior high music contest (Logan had a successful day too, but I write too much about Logan in here.) This is Luke's paragraph.

Here are photos of the two of them today, cleaning up the patio table and chairs. The furniture is under attack, too.

Everyone, now: Stop, drop, and roll.

Hope you're doing nothin' today, too!

What a day.

2007-03-23T13:57:00.000-07:00

You know that time in the morning when you're still in bed, half awake, half asleep? That place in between two worlds? That's where I was when this song popped into my head. Not a song I knew; it was a new song for the world. That's the only way to put it because this song just appeared, unbidden, in my brain. I could hear the whole thing - the words and the orchestral arrangement. I was just awake enough to think, wow, I should write this down, so I did. The funny thing is, I'm not a song writer. I wasn't thinking about writing a song. I was, however, thinking a lot about and looking forward to writing here in my blog. Does writing beget writing? Does the act of writing open a creative faucet that flows in unexpected directions? Talk about a great way to start the day - I wasn't even out of bed and I had this amazing gift from the cosmos bestowed on me.

Then I took my super-cool, super-special niece, Carlena, out for lunch to celebrate the fact that she just last week finished her classes for her bachelor's degree in Education. If you knew her story, you wouldn't believe she made it through college (while raising two kids and dealing with drug-addicted family members). She is totally amazing. Everyone now, hats off to Carlena! And hugs and kisses to her, too. Queenie, you rock!

Cory, Carlena, Pidd

And then to top off an already amazing day, This American Life, the TV version, premiered on Show Time and it was excellent. They kept their radio groove-funk (which I was worried wouldn't translate to television). But I was wrong. The groove-funk is all because of host Ira Glass; all is well.

This feels like a once-in-a-lifetime really cool day. Hope you all have one of those soon.

Watch out. Cory's got his eye on you.

Blogging the Bible

2007-03-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

I just figured out how to use links because I want everyone who's ever wondered what's really in the Bible to go check out Blogging the Bible on slate.com. Warning: only to be read by those who are strong of faith. There's a lot of really nasty stuff that goes on in there. I think they may have been sugar-coating things in my Sunday school classes.

In his intro to the blog, David Plotz says, "I want to find out what happens when an ignorant person actually reads the book on which his religion is based." Later he asks, "So what will happen if I approach my Bible empty, unmediated by teachers or rabbis or parents." (Plotz is Jewish so his Bible is the Old Testament.)

It makes me feel better to know that Plotz basically has the same reaction to the Bible that I had when I tried to read it: Horror. Besides the lying, cheating, stealing, land-grabbing, prostitutioning, incest, rape, and genocide, there is the constantly recurring theme of mass murder, attributed to no lesser a character than God himself. It's a wonder the Christians don't try to have this banned from schools and libraries. There's some rough stuff going on in there.

Blogging the Bible is not completely unmediated. One of the best features of the blog are the comments from readers all over the religious/non-religious spectrum. When Plotz raises a question (often), readers respond with various answers and also, when he mis-states anything, he is quickly corrected by the readers (wouldn't you like to be able to do this in church on Sunday morning?)

After I finish the Bible blog, I'll check to see if anyone is blogging the Koran. It would be fascinating to compare the two. And also to see what is in the Koran, really. How can so many Muslims say their's is a religion of peace in the face of the violence carried out in the name of Islam?

If you check out Blogging the Bible, I'd love to know what you think.

All about Lukey

2007-03-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

Looking over my blog thus far, I see that I feature Logan much more than Lukey, and if I'm not careful you (and he) may begin to think that I favor one boyman over the other, which would be a terrible think for anyone to think because I am as crazy about both of them as it is possible to be.

Whereas Logan is excitement and energy and drama and silliness, Luke is calm and fun and self-possessed and wise. If they were a song, Logan would be the flutes, the high busy notes; Luke would be the strong deep notes steadily driving the song forward.

Top ten cool things about Luke:

10. He is a trivia master.

9. He loves Broadway music (and theatre).

8. He is an accomplished clarinetist, pianist, and singer.

7. He plays tunes and lets me sing along, loudly and often.

6. He looks great in a tux (one of which he has owned since he was 13 (pieced together secondhand) and which he wears often for musical performances).

5. He scored a 34 (out of 36) on the ACT (when he was 15).

4. He can run five miles in 37 minutes.

3. He thinks straight-A report cards are just a normal thing.

2. He has never told a lie (that I know of).

1. The number one coolest thing about Luke is that he is a geek and proud of it.

He is who he is through and through, impervious to the fashions of the moment or pressures to be someone else's idea of cool.

And that is so totally cool.

Signs of spring everywhere:

2007-03-18T19:05:00.000-07:00

Logan staying up too late watching the NCAA tournament.

Logan celebrating when his pick wins. His gambling career starts right here.

Working on Luke's track cleats.

Green snowballs for a St. Patrick's Day card party.

A photo I call "Nude in the Crocuses".

O bless the crocuses, first flower of spring.
And bless us one and all, too.

The Staff of Life

2007-03-14T09:08:00.000-07:00

Tim and Luke are in track practice now. This is Luke's first time running track although Tim (and I) have always known he is an amazing runner. Tim got asked to be one of the assistant coaches so he is in his element. Tim missed his calling as a coach; sports of all sorts are his passion. On the first day of practice, at 3:15, I said to Logan, "Hey, right now, daddy is doing the thing he was born to do; we should send him good thoughts."

Here is a photo of Logan sending good thoughts to Tim:

Logan was home sick today. He was chilled so he put on Tim's blue sweatshirt and pulled the hood up. It made his blue eyes look even bluer.

Snoggy Blue Eyes

My Snoggy is a snuggler. He was laying around, not feeling good, I was piddling around in the kitchen. He was trying to get me to relieve his boredom by snuggling with him. I kept protesting that I was busy. He hollered, "One of these days my childhood is gonna be over and you're gonna regret this."

One wise brat.

So of course I snuggled with him. I wrapped him in a hug and did "the claw" a bunch of times. And tickled him. Never one to miss a snuggling opportunity, Trixie came and sat next to the couch so I could pet her at the same time.

While we were snuggling, Logan gave me the best compliment of my life.

"Remember," he said, "when you told me what people call bread?"

"Yeah," I said, "the staff of life."

"That's right," he agreed brightly, as the words came back to him.

Then he said: "That's what you are in this family."