Monday, February 28, 2011

mixed blessings

The man brought home a big bag of takeout food from Flagstaff’s yummy Pato Thai last night, and that's what I had for breakfast. Seriously, the Tom Ka coconut milk soup is something of a wonder, though I was skeptical the first time I had it.

In other news:

My son’s dog was attacked by two big bully dogs while we were out for a run the other day. Bums me out that the owners a) didn’t even bother to walk three doors down to see how she was doing afterward, and b) don’t bother to address the problem and properly restrain their dogs even after several other incidents involving said dogs in the neighborhood. People suck sometimes. Lizzie’s okay, by the way.

A neighbor came by this weekend with a carton of 18 nummy eggs from her fat hens. Traded 'em for soap. There’s nothing like the taste of farm-fresh eggs, and I’ll use these for everything from breakfast to dessert.

Oh, and even though the pow pow’s extremely cool for skiing and snowboarding, I am officially tired of being cold. So, here’s a special note to Winter: I’m breaking up with you. Everything you own in the box to the left.

And it’s not me – it’s you.

:-p   pttthhhhht

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Angel Heart Farm

While down at the Scottsdale show, I enjoyed perusing the creations of and buying a few prints from Arabian artist extraordinaire, Shary Akers. We chatted for a bit about her art, our horses and being a vendor at shows (which is something I'm familiar with from years of selling handmade soaps). Our chat turned to artistic inspiration, and, in particular, artistic kids. I told her about my son, who can regularly be found mid-sketch, and Shary graciously autographed a print of "The Black" for my kids.

As we chatted, I noticed a little sign she had by the cash register asking for donations (no amount too small) for something called Angel Heart Farm. I asked her about it, and she told me about a woman she knows in Kentucky who devotes her life to bringing terminally ill children and horses together. If you have nothing better to do for the next five minutes, do yourself and your soul a huge favor and check out the short video on Angel Heart's homepage. I dare you to remain unmoved.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

scottsdale all-arabian horse show 2011

February usually equals cold, wind and snow here at 7,000 feet, which generally makes it a blissful time to head down to the Valley of the Sun for a little sunny R&R. I've been doing it off and on since the early 90's when I moved to Arizona, but I have to say, this was one of the coldest weekends I've ever spent down there. Still, the reasons to get out of Dodge were numerous, so down we went.

First timers to Westworld, where the show is held every year, can't help but catch their breath a little when they come upon the bronze Arabians at the entrance:

Once inside the entrance tent, you're greeted by wall to wall booths full of amazing art and saddles and bling, and it's almost too much to take in:

Due to the rain and the wind this year, the covered warm-up arena was packed. Halter classes were actually being held in the outdoor warm-up, which makes me think Wendell Arena must have been a mess:

Inside the Equidome, though, it was business as usual. I never got an official entry count, but classes were decent sized, and there were lots of spectators there for the long weekend:

The mare halter classes on Saturday night were awesome. For me, it was all about the greys this year. So many breathtaking beauties:

Before heading back up to the snow and our own fuzzy four-leggeds, we got to see one of the benefits of all that rain:

Monday, February 14, 2011

item #23 checked off the bucket list

Friday, February 04, 2011

people stew

It often happens like this: I'm finishing up a manuscript, getting ready to send it out into the big world with it's still-moist wings and focusing on keeping myself hopeful. Meanwhile, there's a crockpot full of other ideas...things strangers are saying, thoughts and memories these strangers are having...simmering in another part of my brain, distracting me a little from the task at hand. But I don't want to unplug the crockpot. I don't want to throw out its contents. Instead, I press the lid down - gently but firmly - hoping nothing escapes for just a little while longer.

I finish releasing the new bird, my most recent baby, and then I turn to back the crockpot, which is by now threatening to boil over. Carefully, carefully I lift the lid and peer inside, giving a little bit more attention to what's being said and who's saying it - what's being thought and who's thinking it. Getting to know the strangers inside.

Sounds a little grotesque, I know. Like, what is she talking about? People in a crockpot? Ew. Such a rash, blatant mixing of metaphors! Birds, horses, boiling people? Gimme a break!

And yet, I don't know how to explain the process of letting go of one book and starting another any better than that. Not yet anyway

Today's note to self:
Be ridiculously optimistic.
And stand up straight.