small things

Noting the crumpled state of her homework after school lately, I offered Daughter a deal: Come home with your homework nice and neat in its folder, and you'll get a special treat. I don't care if she's supposed to do this without being asked; I'm a huge fan of bribery. Alas, she proudly opened her backpack as soon as she got off the bus to show me how tidy everything was. So, she got her treat:

Wish I could say these peanut butter cookies were homemade, but no - store bought and pre-cut. All I had to do was bake 'em. My mom used to make the most AMAZING peanut butter cookies from scratch, and she'd always add a little design on each one with the tines of a fork. I'll have to get the recipe from her.

Today I paid a visit to my favorite local thrift store, where I found a cat carrier that would have come in very handy week-before-last when Rosa developed a post-spay UTI and had to go back to the vet. Now we have one just in case, and it only cost a few bucks! I picked up the chairs, too. We've been needing some extras for when company comes over, and the kids are looking forward to customizing these with some bright acrylic paints. That way, they can each have one for sitting and putting on their shoes in the morning, setting their backpacks on in the afternoon, etc. Plus, I think the chairs will make the foyer look very homey and folksy. I'll post a picture when they're done.

Let's see. I recently traded soap for some hollyhock seeds, so those will go in the ground this weekend. The neighbor who has the seeds is a master gardener, so I've also been hitting her up for advice on what kinds of trees to plant in front of the house and how to stop the local prairie dogs from feasting on the roots. I'll post a picture of the hollyhock experiment results next year. (I did mention that I have a black thumb, right?)

The new horse shelter is coming along, though there have been a few hold-ups between my contractor dealing with the county, footer cement that doesn't want to dry quickly enough, etc. I'm hoping most if not all of it will go up tomorrow.

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

calgon, take me away

This weekend, in a fit of winterizing, The Boy and I took this:


...and turned it into this:

I know, I know. You're terribly impressed. You're thinking, Oooooooooooo.

That's a heat lamp and a sled on the back wall, so you know we were serious. I even built a mini-stack, mainly because I was too plum tuckered to carry the last of the wood into the shed:

It was not an easy task peeling myself from the bed this morning, let me tell you. But, after a mug full of bracing "cowboy strength" coffee and a little Mary J on the radio (don't need no hateration, yo) while driving the kids to the bus stop, I was good to go.

Oh, be sure to go comment on the soap giveaway post (the one under this one), so I can get that bar in the mail!

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

friday soap giveaway: the return

As promised, I have decided to officially reinstate the Friday Soap Giveaways here at AWAAR. There's going to be a bit of a change in the ground rules, though. In order for the giveaway to work each week, there must be at least six comments by different readers in the comments section of each giveaway post. This will, hopefully, prevent bars from constantly going to the the same two people (I'm talking to you, Maiden and Ken). Do be sure to let me know if you're having trouble commenting, or if the process just seems too laborious to make it worth your time.

Oh! I've opened my Etsy shop, too, so go check it out. There you can behold a picture of yours truly in the mid-1970's in my Brownie uniform and all my buck-toothed glory. In fact, go check out Etsy in general if you haven't done so lately. It's chock-full of cool creations by all sorts of amazing artists!

This week's giveaway bar celebrates two things: 1) The opening of my Etsy shop (it's the first type of soap I listed); and 2) The coming of the autumnal equinox, which happens in just four days (squeee! I love fall!). Here's what's up for grabs:

Interested? To play, simply leave a comment on this post describing one of your favorite fall memories.

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

on being crafty

There's a conversation I've had with artisans, crafters and artists over the years, and it goes something like this: How do you create, market and sell handmade items in a market that is so often flooded with repeats of the same things (I'm looking directly at you, tole painters)? Is it a matter of trying to find and make something nobody's ever done before, or is it more a matter of having your own take on things, your own "look?" I cast my vote for the latter, personally.

I was having this conversation again today, probably since craft show season is upon us and I'm getting back into soap production. Somehow, despite the popularity of soap making just about everywhere, I've managed to do pretty well with the soaps over the years. They're a fun, creative outlet for me, and I do love making something that other people find useful, enjoyable and for which they're willing to pay me money to boot.

With this in mind, I finally opened an Etsy shop, and I'll link to it as soon as I have more items listed (I'm a bit shy at the moment with my one bar of soap hanging out there in EtsyLand). Various people have been telling me to do this for a while, and I guess there's no time like the present - especially since one of my main holiday craft shows won't be held this year.

Oh, look for the return of the Friday soap giveaway, too - maybe as soon as this week. I've been revamping my labeling technique and working with some new color and fragrance combos, so I should have some interesting offerings.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

what I remember

I remember signing on to AOL, which was my main source of morning news at the time, since we didn't get cable out on the prairie and weren't set up for satellite. I remember seeing the picture of two really tall skyscrapers in NYC, one of them emitting an enormous plume of black smoke. I remember seeing the headline: America Under Attack, and thinking little more than, Huh?

I remember doing a quick brain calendar check to make sure it wasn't April Fool's Day. But it wasn't: It was September 11th. I must have read the breaking news story and then gone into the kitchen and turned on the little counter radio. I must have called my family and then checked on my son, who was a toddler by then. Those minutes immediately after getting my bearings and starting to understand just what that headline meant are a little foggy. Probably because the information was still foggy at that point. I do remember wondering, "Is it an American who did this?"

A few hours later, the death toll was estimated at up to 20,000 between the collapse of the two towers and the Pentagon crash. From my family in the Bay Area there was talk of the Golden Gate Bridge being shut down, and of armed security everywhere. I stopped at the main Interstate truck stop in our area on my way to the Flagstaff Riding Center, which was managed by some horse trainer friends and clients at the time. It's also right near the Navajo Army Depot, the entrance of which was under heavy guard. A group of Middle-Eastern men was standing in the parking lot of the truck stop having an animated discussion, and I remember the red flags going up: By then, I'd heard the new name Al Qaeda on the radio at least half a dozen times. I'd heard the reporters talk about someone I'd never heard about, someone named Osama Bin Laden. I also remember thinking about all the Persian and Arabic friends I've had over the decades and wondering what it must be like to suddenly and out-of-the-blue be a source of concern and suspicion.

That day was a rude awakening. It was a hard lesson in shock and disbelief, followed by a sense of national fellowship and grief, followed by a national tearing asunder as the political and racial divisions began. It was too much to take in all at once. In some ways, I find that it is still too much to take in. And I was insulated. I was safe all the way across the country as the events unfolded. I didn't lose anybody that day. Today, my heart goes out to all those who can't say the same.

What do you remember?Follow @nicole_mcinnes

an abundance of plums

Plums are in season right now, and I had a lot of plums yesterday. Too many, really. An overabundance of plums is what it was.

So, I decided to do something. I decided to take control of the situation. I went online and found the recipe for something called a Rustic Plum Tart on epicurious.com. Then I made some pastry dough.

I love making pastry dough. There's something so homey and simple about it. I once wrote a line in a novel about Willie Nelson and "that voice of his which was all man, but also as comforting as someone’s big-bosomed grandmother with freckles on her arms and pastry dough stuck to her fingers." That's how much I like pastry dough (and Willie). And I've been waiting a long, long time to unpack my pastry cloth and rolling pin and finally put them to good use. The plums gave me the perfect excuse to do just that.


After I'd mixed the sliced plums with sugar, cinnamon and ginger, there were concentric circles to make, and much folding to do at somewhat careful angles. It was like plum geometry, and I was never much good at geometry. Also, I definitely managed to put the "R" in "Rustic."

But, oh, it smelled so good as it baked. Apparently, some random critter thought so, too, because doesn't it look like a little mouse or something (something like a blogger with the munchies, perhaps) got a little too into sampling the result with its little, bloggy fingers?

In fact, it smelled, looked and tasted so good that when daughter and her BFF got off the school bus, they were most interested in helping me use up the rest of the plum/sugar/cinnamon/ginger mixture. So, we made a second tart, which went home with BFF when her dad came to pick her up.

Here's the sunset we saw from the front yard after they drove away and before we dove into tart #1, decimating half of it in one fell swoop.

Sadly, this morning I woke up with a head cold. The good news is there is still half of a rustic plum tart sitting on the counter. And plums have lots of vitamin C, right?

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

not a g-rated post

So, the cat's in heat. Which means she's snaking around the house, crouched down on all fours like a new Marine recruit doing that thing where they have to hit the dirt and go under all those wires on their bellies. Also, she pretty much sounds like Ethel Merman undergoing an invasive dental procedure without anesthesia ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

And before you jump all over me for not getting her spayed, she has an appointment next week (which may now have to be postponed because of the raging hormones). The vet actually wouldn't spay Rosa when we first adopted her, because her little, um...kitty titties?...were still too swollen from nursing (the cat's, not the vet's).

So.

Aside from the kids going, "Mom, why is she doing that?" and aside from trying to remove from my head the image of something called the "Q-Tip technique" (which I read about on a feline chat thread about how to calm a cat in heat), this is what my life looks like at the moment:

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

"I'm thinking how happy I am."

After many, many years, I have re-watched a movie that I will always consider one of my very favorites: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I loved Kundera's novel when I read it as an undergraduate, and I loved the movie the first time I saw it during that same period.

I remember, as an early twenty-something, seeing the movie through the lens of possibility and eros. There was some sadness, yes, but mainly the story struck me as one of relationships between daring artists and thinkers.

This time I saw it through a different lens. This time, I saw it through the lens of understanding just how long - and how filled with fear and sorrow - the road leading to a single moment of grace can be.

And how that single moment is always, always, worth it.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

our crazy, crafty, creative labor day weekend

Like a horse moved to a new barn, or a dog rescued from a shelter and taken to a strange house, I think I've been in the process of realizing that this little, postage-stamp-sized farmstead on the mountain is Home. I'm pretty sure this process started happening back at the end of June, when it looked like escrow was actually going to close without too much of a hitch. And I'm pretty sure that a new part of this process - maybe the final part - happened during this long Labor Day weekend, which we kicked off by going to the Fair - an inevitably and creatively sensual experience that must have dislodged something that's been stuck for a while way down in my psyche. Friday night we were all exhausted, but on Saturday we decided to bake a double batch of Tollhouse cookies:

Why, yes, that IS a Siamese cat sleeping in the background, completely unimpressed by our culinary endeavors. Want proof?

On Sunday, one of the kids started talking about what kinds of plants we might enter in the Fair next year, so "Come with me," I said. I told them that I'd been eyeballing the property, trying to come up with the best place to plant a garden. The spot I tentatively chose has southern and eastern exposure, but it's blocked on the west and the north. It's where the entrance to the crawlspace is located, and our big, steel water cistern is buried nearby, too, so there's no chance we'll put a deck or other addition there. Plus, the previous owners left some heavy duty steel "planters" buried in the ground, and I figure those could come in handy for growing herbs. Right now, the spot is weedy and untended, but give us the winter to dream up our garden wish list and the spring to build raised beds, and there's no telling what kind of life we might breathe into that patch of ground:

I told the kids we could actually get started on the garden now, despite the fact that we'll soon be heading into fall and the already short northern Arizona growing season is getting close to being over. They were all excited, until I told son to grab the wheelbarrow and follow me and daughter while we walked the property and tossed as many old, dried out cow pies in as we could find (our land is on open range, and apparently, the last owners didn't close the front gate. Bovine visitors were clearly abundant). Actually, it didn't take the kids long to get excited even about that. It's amazing how fun it can be to collect petrified cow crap. Try it sometime. Afterward, we dumped the patties on the space I'd built for our compost pile. I used a bunch of cinderblocks that were left over after the little horse barn blew away in that rogue tornado:

Throughout the day, daughter would ask if I had anything that she could throw on the pile. Such a little Earth Girl. Go figure.

Today, we'd hardly gotten up and eaten breakfast before the creative urges struck again. It started with a big bag of apples that's been sitting on my counter all week, threatening to become compost fodder if I didn't do something quick. So, with the kids' help in the mashing phase, I batched up a quick pot of homemade apple sauce to serve with chicken sausage and my favorite Trader Joe's Basmati rice blend topped with mushroom sauce for dinner:

Have you ever done this? It's the easiest thing in the world! Four ingredients: Apples, water, sugar and cinnamon. Take a few minutes to peel and core the apples, cut them into quarters, boil all the ingredients together for a while, cool 'em down and mash 'em. Voila! Warm, homemade applesauce with an amazing taste and texture that will leave you feeling a little bummed out the next time you have to use storebought.

We even held back the peels and rings to dry for this year's Homemade Christmas:

I did mention that I was basically Martha on roids this weekend, right? Lizzie was as unimpressed as the cat. That's daughter's abandoned apron and son's abandoned artwork on the floor:

I was willing to overlook the increasingly daunting mess, though, since just about every time I checked on the kids, both of them were feverishly working on stories and pictures and even paper sculpture creations like this cat/kitten/bird/egg/watermelon/garden combo created by daughter:

I don't know what the heck was in the water around here for the past few days, but whatever it was...give me more.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

fair's fair

The 60th annual Coconino County Fair is in town, and today was the official "school day," where all school-aged kids (and their teachers, chaperons, etc.) get in free. I volunteered to help chaperon first grade, and it was big fun. Well, for the most part it was big fun. By the time we hit the poultry barn it started to pour, so our group made several passes by all the cool chickens. I was, of course, especially drawn to the Silkies, which will always be my first "poultry love." I may finally be getting over the loss of my flock last year enough to think about re-flocking. This time (probably not until spring, when the Easter chicks hit the feed store in town), I'd like to add Americaunas and maybe some Rhode Island Reds to the mix, since both are supposed to be great layers. Silkie eggs are yummy, but they're small, and it would be good to have regular and large-sized fresh eggs next summer. Of course, I'll have to build my coop first.

I always love touring the Home Ec. building, too. In past years I've entered things like soap and fudge in the fair, and I was inspired by the cookies and cakes this year. I'd also like to think I will finally plant a garden again, now that we're getting settled in the new place, so I can maybe enter some herbs, tomatoes and pumpkins. Alas, though, that, too, will have to wait until spring. Still, it's something else to look forward to...

Last weekend, I judged the horse show portion of the fair. I'm not sure why they hold the horse show a week before the actual fair opens, but they do. That was a good time as well. Unlike other horse shows, the County Fair show is always sort of an "Elly Mae Clampett meets Chad and Muffy from the Country Club" affair. You have 4H kids from all over the region, including the Rez (who have been practicing in their back yards), mixing with the more well-to-do kids (who have been working with their trainers), and I love the fact that hard work and natural talent always trump a fat bank account: You can't buy raw skill and a handy horse-rider pair, whether it's over a course of fences or in a reining pattern.

By the time the school buses pulled up to the front entrance today, it was pouring again. Our group found the closest tent under which to wait out the deluge. Turned out it was the Scientology tent, which meant that we got to read all about L. Ron Hubbard and Thetans as the rotisserie guy across the way tried to keep the rain off his grill and the technicolor stilt walker hunkered down under a tent of his own.

Hey, when it comes to the fair, there's room for all kinds.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

good morning

Here's something to watch the sunrise and monsoon-ey clouds for those of us drinking our coffee in Northern Arizona this morning.

Brings me back to my first year of college, when my roommate in the dorm would wake me up at dawn each morning by blasting Cat and the Dead.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the wind began to switch, the house to pitch...

Lest you think it's ever a good idea to enjoy a quiet, relaxing day at home, somewhat smug in the knowledge that all is right with the world and that nothing could go wrong...

Just come on over to my place, and I'll learn ya good.

See, I was doing just that earlier today - getting some work done, munching some munchies, watching Lizzie and Rosa actually playing together (well, Lizzie was playing. She'd drop her tennis ball in front of the cat, who, quite predictably, would ignore it completely). Basically, I was keeping it chill and enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You know something's coming, don't you? Because you're no doubt smarter than I was, no doubt a little more world-wise and a little less Pollyanna-ish.

So, here's how it went down: Out of nowhere came a screaming (literally) gust of wind that rattled the wooden blinds and caused both animals to look at me like WTF??

Naturally, I ran to the front windows and closed them both up tight, all the while reminding myself that this solid little house has certainly withstood worse than a rogue dust devil over the decades. Plus, I lived out on the Prairie for years, so it's not like I haven't seen my share of mini-Arizona tornadoes. When I got back to the computer, however, I realized that the gust must have knocked the power out. Sigh. Time to check the fuse box (knowing that the issue was probably with one of the big APS boxes down the road). I headed out the back door to check it anyway, and that was when I spotted several neighbors rushing around their properties while pointing to mine.

The crabby part of me started to think something like, What's their problem? until I looked to where they were all pointing, which was at the spot where my little horse shelter/barn used to be.

Used. To. Be.

Because, not only was the shelter gone, but the two-by-six beam, heavy-duty shingle roof had apparently been picked up whole, lifted about twenty feet in the air (where it knocked out the overhead power line), spun around and deposited on my neighbor's property. Strangely enough, not a single thing in the wood/storage/tack shed right next to it was moved even half an inch.

After the initial shock wore off, I realized that I should seriously count my blessings, because nobody - neither human nor hoofed nor pawed - was hurt, and a horse shelter can always be replaced.

But, Dude. It was still totally surreal.

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

those mice ain't playing anymore

A promise was made to my cat-crazed daughter about a year ago, and it went something like this: Yes, you can get a cat...WHEN we move into a place that we own (as opposed to renting, which we were doing at the time). And so, now, let me present...

(drum roll, please)

...a promise kept:

Blogosphere, meet Rosa.

Rosa, Blogosphere.

"Why Rosa?" I wanted to know when cat-crazed daughter announced her name.

"Because she's beautiful like a rose, and because she's cute, and because I was thinking about Princess Rosa from Puss in Boots."

Fair enough. This kitty is beautiful, and she has an awesome little personality. She's a year old, so she's already litterbox trained, more mellow than a kitten and very self-assured. She also arrived at the Coconino Humane Society with two kittens - one six weeks and one six months. So, it appears the poor thing has already had two litters, which may explain her petite size and can-do attitude.

I'm a little worried that Rosa isn't happy here in her new home, though - that she may be a bit too tense:

And Lizzie? How's Lizzie liking her new sister, you ask? Oh, Lizzie is thrilled beyond belief! Lizzie can hardly contain her excitement! Lizzie is...

...Well, I'm sure she will be exceedingly pleased in time, right?

Right??

I think Lizzie may be smelling her halo. Or maybe I've just had a certain song stuck in my head today. Either way, our new addition is already a blessing.

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

keeping it simple

The inside of the house looked like a tornado hit it today: The massive cardboard box from the range we picked up at Best Buy sat in the middle of the living room floor, embellished with scarves, blankets, dog toys - anything that would make its new incarnation as a secret fort more complete; half-finished homework covered the coffee table while the afternoon light from the west-setting sun pressed through the slats of the blinds. And the ottoman...The ottoman was awash in cat books (felines being daughter's long time obsession). My (paying) work for the day was nearly finished, and I had my babies with me (I'll still be calling them that when they have families of their own, I'm sure). In short, life was complete.

The three of us sat sprawled on the couch like a pile of puppies, and we just talked. Son asked if I'd ever experienced a natural disaster, like a hurricane or a tornado. I told him I hadn't been through either of those, but there was the '89 Loma Prieta quake, which I experience firsthand as a new employee at the Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz, which was largely destroyed that day, twenty years ago this October. Then the conversation shifted to the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, where my grandfather lived. He was just a boy right about the age my son is now, and my mother tells me that, shortly after the quake hit, he was running down the street carrying the precious family portrait, since each person basically had time to carry just one thing.

I know time isn't something you can carry in a literal sense. It's fleeting and resistant to any human effort to control it. But I'll tell you this: If time could be carried, if it could be removed from danger and taken elsewhere, that half hour on the couch today would be the kind of thing you'd see clutched in my arms as I ran toward safety.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the reasons for vegas

I've discovered that there are many reasons to head for Vegas, which is ironic, considering the fact that I used to loathe the very thought of Sin City. The main reason for visiting seems to have to do with casting all cares aside and heading toward the showiest adult playground to be found anywhere (done that). Then, of course, there's the getting-married-by-Elvis-in-a-chapel-off-the-Strip reason (haven't done that, though I know people who did get married there (not by The King)). There's getting away with the girlfriends for a no holds barred weekend of lounging and dressing up and occasionally making a fool of one's self (I strongly resemble that remark). And then there are the family get-togethers (ditto). This time, I found myself focusing on the sights - specifically, the sights to be found behind glass in the bakeries and Gelato shops:


The artistry is intense, and the confections prove to be treats for all the senses, not just the tastebuds



When you stare up at the ceiling in the lobby of the Venetian, you feel like you're right smack dab in the middle of the Vatican, and the fact that the hotel was chock-full of Italians might attest to its authenticity. As a friend pointed out, though, it does seem a bit odd to travel to another country and seek out a hotel that is basically a replica of your homeland.


Over at the Bellagio, there is a fairly amazing Conservatory of Flowers that makes such a nice getaway from the hustle and bustle of the casino and shops (even if the miraculous concoction that is the Chocolate Nut Martini is located there in the Baccarat Bar). I also noticed that people start smiling these serene, joyous smiles as soon as they walk into the conservatory - and it's not an expression that's easy to find on the casino floor, where faces tend to look much more distracted and glazed over. There are flowers, butterflies and birds galore in the conservatory, including these lorakeets (I'm pretty sure that's what this is):

There's also a hypnotic, glass waterball. I want one in my sunroom.

And, did I mention that Gelato reigns as far as the eye can see?

Who knows what the reason for my next trip to Vegas will be. But this one was a fun getaway. And, as an Italian man sitting behind us on a bench as we all waited for our vehicles said (in Italian - my mom translated): "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

"Not for you it doesn't," answered his wife.

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

English, not British

I had a blast at the Giles Carradine dressage clinic in Flagstaff yesterday, and then drove to Vegas immediately afterward with my mother, who's in town for a visit and hasn't seen this city in about twenty years. More pics of everything a bit later. Right now it's time to hit the Strip, Baby. Sephora, especially, which is one of those stores that always makes me wish I had tons of kwan to spend - but who does in this economy, right?

Follow @nicole_mcinnes

the reason for cheesecake

It just occurred to me that I pretty much stole the title of this post from Chitra Divakaruni, who wrote a book of poetry years ago called The Reason for Nasturtiums. But, I digress.

So, this really yummy-looking cherry cheesecake was taking up space in my fridge lately, and I didn't know what to do with it. The first people I thought about serving it to all have lactose intolerance to some degree or another, so they were out. I was hesitant to dive into it myself, since I doubted my ability to know when enough was enough. So, it just sat there.

Then, I was out with the weed whacker the other day, trying to clear at least some semblance of a three-foot zone around the house so that when all the boob-high weeds (the ones that were busy growing like Audrey II while we were in the Bay Area) dry out, the house won't go up in flames as soon as some rogue flash of lightning strikes.

It was going pretty well until I heard my cell phone ringing, turned off the whacker, and realized that I could hardly hold the phone because my arm was so exhausted. Sounds wimpy, I know, and maybe it is. But if you've never seen a Northern Arizona, boob-high weed ("like tree trunks" was how one friend put it), much less tried to whack one with a light weight edger, please don't judge my girly arms.

Apparently, a kindly neighbor couple decided to take pity on me, because the next thing I knew, the husband had wheeled over a big ol' push whacker (kind of like a lawn mower, but for mass weed slaughter instead) and was showing me how to fill the tank, pull the cord to start the thing and reinstall the line. I worried a little about putting the wear and tear on someone else's equipment, and the thing did pick up some stray wire and baling twine hiding in the brush...but it was AWEsome. I so totally need to get a push-along weed whacker.

The problem was, with all the moving boxes scattered hither and yon, I couldn't find my supply of trade soap - bars I use for trading out with folks who loan, give or help me with something. And these neighbors did not ask for or expect anything in return - that was made quite clear. Still, I like a fair trade. So, there I stood in my kitchen after rolling the whacker back over to their shop, thinking, "What can I trade?" I opened the fridge, and there it was: a perfectly lovely cherry cheesecake, saying, "Trade me!"

So, I did. And the looks on their faces when I handed it over were proof enough that it was a fair trade indeed.Follow @nicole_mcinnes

so, I bought a house

...which is one of the reasons the blog went dark for a couple of eons this summer.

It's been one of those huge, life changing/life affirming/life imploding (in a good way) events into which I found myself diving head first back in May:

"I really think you should come check out this house a few miles west of here," said my realtor.

"But I don't want to move farther west," I told her. "If anything, I want to move farther east."

"It's a good deal, and it's only been on the market for a day."

"I don't know..."

"It's a horse property."

"When can we go look?"

So, we drove out to a little subdivision I've passed hundreds of times in the past decade - on my way to church, to the store, to the Grand Canyon. And there it was:

It's an old El Paso house, which means it was built for one of the EP workers (and maybe for his young family as well) back when the natural gas pipeline was going through. There are a few more of these in the neighborhood, and a guy who lives in one of them told me they were built extra sturdy so they could be moved, if need be...farther down the line, I suppose.

Inside, there are these old oak floors which, while in need of some TLC, might just be magnificent someday. That's my monstrous wood stove in the corner. I plan to use it as our primary source of winter heat, since propane is so dad-gummed expensive:

And there's a utility/laundry/workshop/sunroom, which may just be the thing that finally sold me on the place. It's already set up as a homework and soaping center. Updated pics to come:

These are my Red Hot Pokers out front. I'm still getting used to that term "mine." I mean, it could be argued that nothing is really "ours," that it's all God's - or that the Earth doesn't belong to us, we belong to the Earth, etc. But....oh, heck, You know what I mean. These are my flowers:

Here's the view out back. That's National Forest right across my fenceline, and I can't wait to head out there on Zzari while whistling Happy Trails:

Without a doubt, Independence day took on a whole new meaning this year:

I guess when it comes right down to it, I can probably sum up the whole experience in five words: It's good to be home.

I'm pretty sure Lizzie agrees:

Follow @nicole_mcinnes