How to win an art scholarship

This is how I applied for and won an art-based scholarship.The Bethel E. Ells Scholarship is awarded to a part- or full-time art or art humanities major. I believe there is more than one recipient, but I'm not sure of the number. Here is the info from the application:

For students majoring in Art, this includes Drawing, Painting, Computer Graphics, Photography, and Sculpture or Art Humanities.

Amount: Full time students, 12 + credit hours: $500 - $1000 Part time students: 6 – 11 credit hours: $250 - $500

Applicants must have a 3.0 GPA in Art or Art History, or High School senior eligible for Spring 2013. All applicants for Art Scholarships must submit an essay. In addition, studio art majors must submit a portfolio of work for review. Applicants should submit their work on disk, jump drive or hard copy. Black and white and color prints may be submitted as such. Any artwork over 11x14” must be submitted on disc or jump drive. Submit all articles pertinent to the application together in one envelope up to 11x14”. Enclose official transcripts and two letters of recommendation. For students who have not completed 12 college credits, attach high school transcripts along with two letters of recommendation.

It was definitely a challenge to even complete the application process because it was due the weekend after Thanksgiving, and right before finals. Between family gatherings, completing my final projects for 3D Design and Color Theory; and cramming for my Art History final, I worked on my scholarship application.Luckily, my Portfolio class prepared me for it. ART255B, The Portfolio, is a required one-credit class for art majors. I took this class as an independent study option at another school. My advisor met with me once a month for about an hour or so, and gave me assignments. Throughout the semester, I built up 3 different portfolios: 

1. Educational; covers academic history and student work for applying to a university arts program (This is the one I will use when I apply to the Art Education program at ASU*)

2. Professional; shows qualifications and diversity when applying for an art-based job. (This will be my portfolio when I apply for a job as an art teacher. You'd also use this to apply for a job in a museum or arts organizations.)

3. Gallery; when you become so badass that you think people should PAY for your art, you'd use this portfolio to try and get a gallery show. (Yeah - I'm not quite there yet.)

You prepare a different resume, CV, artist's statement and image files for each portfolio. To apply for the Beth Ells scholarship, I used my artist statements as a jumping off point, and wrote my essay from there.  I got copies of my transcripts and prepared a comprehensive portfolio, with images of my student work so far (which I have brilliantly used to illustrate this post), and a few things I've done outside of school.And, two of my AWESOME teachers wrote letters of recommendation for me. I hope I can live up to their expectations and I'm humbled by their kind words.When I opened the award letter I think I scared my husband. He hasn't seen me jump up and down like that in awhile. Plus I screeched out "Oh my god!" right in his ear. Poor guy.I'm so happy and proud to share that I have been awarded $750.00 for the spring semester!YAY :)Here is the essay I wrote:

Art has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I loved the slippery feel of finger paints as they spread across wet paper, or squishing Play-Doh into purple spaghetti. As a child, my favorite classroom activities involved making something. I learned from all members of my family that something crafted by hand is not only a necessity, as store-bought things were usually too expensive, but when we put pride into whatever we make, the end result is a reward in itself. I did not come from a family of artists; rather, a bunch of stalwart Midwestern immigrants whose daily lives depended on what they could provide for their families - much of the time from scratch, and often from spare parts. As a result of doing things right, many of their handicrafts could be considered art.

When my youngest son was in elementary school, he went through a very difficult struggle with a learning disability. School for him was a place of confusion, where he found that no matter how hard he tried, it wasn’t good enough. Facing ridicule from students as well as teachers (the sad truth), he suffered from depression, anxiety and low self-worth. BUT the one place he could go, where everything he did was good, was the art room.

At this time, I offered to be the classroom volunteer for the Art Masterpiece program. As part of the program, volunteers were invited to attend classes at the Phoenix Art Museum. We received ideas for lessons and heard lectures from the Art Librarian. Over the next few years the class made Soleri-inspired windbells, Lichtenstein-style portraits, and charcoal drawings of the desert. I loved it. I couldn’t wait to get in there with the kids and talk about art! This new found love, along with seeing how art helped my own son, inspired me to go back to school to pursue a degree in Art Education.

Art is the physical manifestation of expression. Therefore, my foundation for teaching will be “no bad art.” That is to say, if a student shows up, does the works and expresses themselves, that is their art, and how could that be considered “bad,” by me or anyone else? I fully intend to take the lessons I’ve learned here, and help that student see where they can make their art even better.

Art History classes have made a huge impact on me, and the more I learn about art, the more I want to learn, and share with others. For my Honors project I created a two-class lecture and presentation on the Early Medieval period. I intend to make future lesson plans revolve around an Art History core. I’ve also become interested in the value of Art Therapy, and would love to incorporate art into a Special Ed program. Beyond the public school setting, I hope to one day work with the elderly, either in a teaching aspect, or as an art therapist, if I am able to further my education.

My goals are to learn about art and how to become a better artist myself, as well as promote other artists and the idea of art in general to the public. I hope my classroom will be a safe haven; the place where kids feel welcome and happy no matter what else is going on in their lives. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want to be anyone’s savior. I want my students, young and old, to discover that through art, they can save themselves.

I truly believe, 100%, that art makes the world a better place.

If you're thinking about applying for a scholarship, do it!! It's a little extra work, but it is so worth it. Plus it feels good to know you can accomplish what you set out to do.What about you? Do you have any goals or accomplishments to share? Leave a comment.Thinkin bout tryin out for a scholarship:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VIG3SdCiSAMy sincere gratitude goes out to the Bethel E. Ells Scholarship committee and Mr. and Mrs. Robert Christopher. Thank you for this opportunity.

Thanks

So, I'm sure you've noticed a huge gap in posts. I mean, of course you have, because you're a regular reader and you love my wit, and you can't WAIT until you see a new post from me!Kind of like how I am with The Hermitage, Dreams + Jeans, and Fine Art Tips.A lot has been going on. I have been taking 17 credit hours this semester, and I can't remember the last time I've worked so hard and been so happy in that work. I'm telling you right now: If you've been in a slump, or maybe want to advance in your career but lack of a degree is holding you back; GO TO SCHOOL, even if it's just one class at a time.There's nothing that will revive you more than feeding your brain. It's the perfect time in the economy, too. Things are starting to bounce back, but it's slow going and business is still slow enough that if you wanted to, you could squeeze in a morning or evening class. Some of them are scheduled to only meet once a week, if that's all you can commit. There are loads of scholarships available, and enrollment is down, so they WANT you to go to school.But assuming you can afford one class per semester - maybe two - what would you take? What has always piqued your interest? Ancient Egypt? Art History 101- Prehistoric to the Gothic, or World History to 1500.What have you always wondered more about? How to really use Excel, so you can go up a paygrade at work? CIS 105 or Excel Level I.

Or, have you always wondered why rocks look like this? Take Geology 101! I liked it so much I took 102 as well.Why don't you do something for you? You've always wanted to try painting. Remember how much you loved watching Bob Ross? I recommend taking Color Theory first. It's been a challenge, but a good one!

Think about it.Besides school, we've had a few birthdaysand lost our two best friends :(Butter (aka Best Dog in the World) was 13, and Pepper (2nd Best Dog in the World) was 12. They passed away within a month of each other.Our new girl, Juniper, was a birthday surprise, and missed meeting Pepper by two days, but kept Butter company for the last month. She's adorable, and smart, and keeps us all on our toes.The horses have gotten hairy. They got a post-Halloween treat.Keira is still for sale. It's strange, I think she must be waiting for the perfect home. I've had several people interested in her, and a few offers, but they all fell through for various reasons. All she needs is time and attention. She's super smart and sweet, and responds well to training (see video on her page). I'm so surprised she hasn't sold yet, because she's pretty close to perfect. But that's just my opinion ;)I gave my first class lectureand we've had some rain.Coming up, I've got a post on a popular author, a round-up of my projects for the semester, an out-of-town writing conference (so exciting!), and after Christmas, I get to go visit my family. Please continue to keep my sister-in-law and our parents in your thoughts. This is our first holiday without John, and he is greatly missed.Here and now, it's holiday time in the desert, cool and crisp in the morning, sunny in the afternoon.I'm thankful for it all - my family, our health & home, the opportunities we have.And to you, for taking the time to visit.Much love,Heidi...If you'd like to do more online browsing, please stop by my friends' sites:Pb Crazyr. mccormack writestaysteele.comstrategicbongoTracyJoyCreative

Back to School

Here's a picture of me, my first week back to school, after a 22-year-break:I've been fortunate enough to have been a stay-at-home mom for 16 years, and a few years ago, went back to work part-time to help out with things like grocery money. Weird thing about teenage boys is, they like to eat. I enjoyed my job slinging magazines at the grocery store, and my other part-time job, driving delivery lunches for a couple of really awesome caterers. But the work was hard on my back, and I kept thinking...what's next? Am I going to be lugging 20-lb bundles of Vanity Fair down to the checkstand when I'm 60?So I started looking for a "real" job. Something that might earn me more money, maybe some benefits, and something I might be proud of. Not that I wasn't proud of the way I lined up and categorized the magazine aisle, but I think you know what I mean.And after perusing all of the jobs listings that seemed of interest to me, I realized: I can't do any of them. As much as I would love to get into a marketing job (literary agent, maybe?), design, or editing, I have no experience or job training - other than keeping two boys and a husband in relatively clean clothes and lasagne for the past twenty years.So, what could I do? Work part time for the rest of my life? Go back to retail or waitressing? Real Estate?Luckily the timing worked out right, and back to school I went.I've had more than a few people tell me that I would make a good teacher.Growing up with an über-feminist mother in the 1970s, in the days when there were only 3 major professions a woman was expected to aspire to were: secretary, nurse, and teacher, and having my mom always telling me that I could be ANYTHING, and that I should never settle for status quo, the idea of being a teacher never appealed to me. (Well, besides the office supplies, and being able to write on a chalkboard.) But it just seemed so unglamorous. Besides, I was going to be a movie star, remember?When I began to look at what I really enjoyed it occurred to me that I really do like to teach things to people. And I've always loved art, have also always wanted to learn more about art and how to be a better artist. And whenever I did try to imagine myself as a teacher, I thought I would love to be an art teacher.When my youngest son was in elementary school, I offered to be the classroom volunteer for the Art Masterpiece program. As part of the program, volunteers were invited to attend free classes at the Phoenix Art Museum. Then we got all sorts of ideas for lessons and how to integrate them into the classroom. We could even tour the museum for free, and ask all sorts of questions to the Art Librarian. Over the next couple of years we made Paolo Soleri-inspired windbells, Lichtenstein-style portraits, and charcoal drawings of the desert. I couldn't believe how much I loved it. And while the idea of volunteering in the classroom (usually for some sort of party) typically made me cringe, I couldn't wait to get in there with those kids and talk about art.The most surreal part of starting college again was that the day before my very first day of school, my dad called - that 2:30 AM call that no one wants - to tell me my brother had died. I'd been on the phone with family, crying for 24 hours, and then I'm putting on a backpack and carrying a sack lunch. It was all too weird.The first few weeks of school, my brain and my heart fought between being excited and happy, or heartbroken and crying. More than once, I had to excuse myself from class because it was just too much. But I felt him, every step of the way. My brother had gone back to school in his 30's and received his degree in music education. He is part of the reason I decided to give it a try.I learned so much my first semester: How I'm in LOVE with art history; how I get all science-nerd-fangirl over geology stuff; how, even though I'm a rockstar computer whiz when it comes to blogging, I don't know sh*t about Excel (my only B!), how I get way in over my head for simple design assignments, and while I'm decent at drawing, I still have a long way to go.Even my summer school classes, English 102 and Public Speaking - which I thought would be a breeze - challenged me in ways I never expected.Look for more about my school adventures in the future. It's certainly an overwhelming change of pace, going from full time mom to full time student, especially as an older -excuse me - non-traditional student, but it feels good. I have always loved to learn, and maybe I'm at the right time in my life where I'm able to appreciate the lessons. Wish me luck.Look for Images from my first semester in the next post: Back to School: Projects

And So It Goes

This has been the most difficult post to write. Which is probably why it has taken me so long to attempt it. I guess maybe I thought if I didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't be true.My brother died.This post is for him.

♡

These are things that my brother loved:

• my sister-in-law
• music
• laughing
• beer
• cigars
• basset hounds
• his car
• guitars
• correct grammar
• really good music
• Neal Peart
• going to his weekend property
• the album Asia by Asia

 "The Heat of the Moment" has a distinct drum rhythm, and when John was learning (rather, teaching himself) how to play drums, he would start that LP over and over at the very beginning, put on his headphones, and drum out the beat on the one practice snare drum that he had gotten for Christmas two years before, when my parents were still married, and probably hoped that all those years of paying for a rental trombone wouldn't be washed away by a shiny new drum. It replaced the beat-up square of leftover carpet that he'd been using up until then. Actually I think the drum was a gift from my Grandpa. Which makes sense because it was just the type of gift my grandpa would give - something to impress everyone else. Something that was a little expensive, and something that was close to the kid's heart but his parents were on the fence about, so you bought it for him and instantly became the hero.

I'm assuming the trombone was either rented, or a loaner from the school; we wouldn't have been able to afford a new one. I imagine he was probably allowed to buy a used horn a after a few years of sticking with it, and starting the drums would have to be a side project. He would go on to play trombone in the school band all the way to graduation (and later in college, majoring in trombone), filling in on the drums here and there for practicing in the bandroom, and starting a garage band on the weekend with his buddies. (What's up, Northern Lites?) As a senior, he actually got to march with the drums.Anyway, the snare drum had to have a towel stuffed in it to mute the sound of the drumming, because if there's any noise that gets annoying after a while, it's a sixteen year old boy teaching himself to play the drums by playing the first two minutes of an 80's schlock-rock band over and over and over and over.BOOM - boomboom - TAH! BOOM - boomboom - TAH!Drummers, you know what I'm talking about.Asia was was right after my parents got divorced, and me, my brother and my mom had all moved into the apartment above my soon-to-be stepdad's photography studio. I guess I was the only one who just thought it was incredibly convenient and not involving any other sort of coincidence that there just happened to be an attic apartment for rent in the 3-story Victorian home on Main Street that housed a studio, office darkroom, and private residence of the man who would marry my mother less than a year later. But things tend to go over my head.I don't think anything EVER went over John's head, which meant he had put 2+2 together, and realized why we lived in the same house with this man, and just what was going on when work ran into the evening hours. Which explains why he was so pissed off all the time, and pounding on that drum as if it had just committed some sort of offense.Which is why music saved my brother.I honestly have no idea what kind of person John would have become had it not been for the saving grace of Music.It was his confidant, his confessor, his therapist, his "safe place."He hadn't had the easiest life. When we were very young, he had some tough experiences, which for the sake of good manners will remain private for now. But nevertheless, at the time these things were happening to John, publicly he had to put on a good face, be the happy kid; the good son. And when he had time to himself, the only thing that kept him from acting out his rage destructively, was music.Before Asia - before the divorce and during everything that led up to it - Our parents' records - The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins soundtracks (our mom used to sing us to sleep with "Stay Awake," and evey chore was accompanied by "A Spoonful of Sugar"), John Denver An Evening With John Denver and Neil Diamond Hot August Night; there was the Big Band Era - Glen Miller, Buddy Rich and Benny Goodman; 70's rock - The Who, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix; 80's everything - Journey, Michael Jackson, Rush (of course), and Billy Joel. We borrowed the Billy Joel LP, Glass Houses from the library so many times we had to buy it.In addition to playing First Chair Trombone, John added a cymbal and base drum to his set and moved it to the basement, and wasn't allowed to play too late into the night. But during the day, if you were within a quarter mile of our house, you would say, there goes that Giovannoni kid again on those drums.I remember one time, being in the attic bedroom, singing along to Pat Benatar, and hearing John practicing down in the basement, there was some type of military fly-over, and I heard my first actual Sonic Boom. I thought John had just hit the drums really hard.So as the family split apart, more pieces got added to the drum set as he saved his money: a cymbal high-hat, a tom-tom drum, some type of smaller drum that I don't even remember the name of, and so on. Then we moved away. From our familiar small town to a bigger, busier, medium-sized city. The high school population was triple that of our home town, and in an area not far from the projects. He lasted one day at that school, then decided living in my dad's 2 bedroom, one bath rental apartment in the country and going to high school with his friends was a much better idea. So he moved back with our dad, and I stayed with my mom and stepdad. I considered the whole moving thing kind of an adventure, and besides, if I was going to be a Movie Star, I had to get out of that small town.The next summer, the three of us, my mom, stepdad and me, moved to Arizona. I would go home to the Midwest at Christmas and on summer vacation to see my dad and John, and my "wicked stepmother"—which is what we jokingly call my awesome, amazing stepmother, who pretty much everyone agrees was a gift from God. At Christmas, we would go to all of my Italian family's houses for dinner. There would be lots of eating, lots of loud talking and laughing and drinking and smoking and laughing. And kids running around being noisy, and music playing. And probably some yelling in there, too.I would show off my latest stupid 80s haircut, and—as my cousin Brad never fails to remind me—wore a pair of white Van's on which I had painted the proclamation FEED THE WORLD. I also sported some wicked eye makeup. More than any 15 year old has a right to wear. But hey, I was breaking out. I was finding myself.John wore his signature Levi's, white Oxford button down, leather loafers, a sport coat, and an Alex P. Keaton-inspired necktie. He was gorgeous, but didn't think so. He'd be at the ancient upright piano in my grandmother's basement, and since it was the only musical instrument around, he sat there, on the bench, tinkering with the keys, playing around, finding the notes he was looking for—and that's how he started to teach himself to play the piano. Sometimes my cousin Nathan would sit with him, and talk while my brother played, since they were of the same away-from-the-noisy-crowd disposition. His defense was to either separate himself, or be the most obnoxious one in the room. Having a guitar meant he could be part of the action, but still have something to hide behind.But I really didn't see much of John on my visits home. We had different friends, and the older sibling seldom welcomes the younger sibling into their group of friends. Especially guy/girl variances. When your best buddies want to date your sister, you tend to want to keep your sister as far away from them as possible. So we didn't do a lot of stuff together. Besides, I was too busy hanging out with my own friends in between family outings. My friend Tracy and I were pretty much joined at the hip. I'm still looking for the scar that shows we were somehow surgically separated.And the places John would be? Practicing songs with his band, Northern Lites; or hanging out in the choir room at school. Our choir teacher, Mrs. Keene, band director, Mr. Cerveny, and John's piano teacher, Mrs, Schiller, were the human counterparts to his music therapy. They each took equal parts in saving my brother from himself. The choir room, that ancient basement sanctuary, where John would be joking around with his friends or flirting with his girlfriend as she sat at the piano. The girl that he broke up with a year later when she went to Minnesota for school, and kept in touch with over all the years and after they each had a string of relationships, and each a failed marriage. The girl, who after all of that, 25 years later, would become his wife, Chris. Yeah, that girl. The one who always knew him, who understood him, and who had his heart.And in that 25 year span, he went to college, dropped out of college, tried a move to Arizona—which was cool, because we got to hang out together—but ultimately decided AZ was not the place for him, packed up his drums in the '69 Caddy and drove all the way back home to Illinois. And I went to college, dropped out of college, moved to Chicago, failed miserably, moved back to AZ, went back to college, met my husband, dropped out of college again, and got married and started raising a family of smelly boys who idolized their smelly uncle.In that time, John and his then-girlfriend, Carol, began an adventure that neither of them would believe would become what is is today, 18 years later: the award-winning landmark of downtown Palatine, The Music Room.He had gone back to school, attending nights first at Harper College, then went on to Elmhurst College. During that time, he traveled to Europe with the jazz band. Switzerland, Ireland, Malta, Italy and probably a few more spots. He received his degree in Music Education at age 35 (and is hugely responsible for inspiring me to go back to school to pursue my own degree now - in Art Education - at age 43.)Though their romantic relationship ended, John and Carol's friendship and business partnership only continued to grow. They built The Music Room into not only a space for retail and rental instruments, but a gathering place for musicians to both teach and learn. They have also given back to the community with their Gear Shift donation program for used instruments.http://youtu.be/KxjRCVbm9acBut The Music Room was so much more than John's business or job; it was his life. (Second only to his love for my sister-in-law Chris, and the time they spent together at their weekend place, going to local spots for dinner, or just having quiet time at home or with family.) And it shows in the hundreds of comments we have received from former students, their parents, and patrons of John's, as well as members and friends of the band he formed, The Big Cluster Big Band, and former band mates of Simply Vintage.Who could guess that one day you'd get a call, something about a brain tumor, and fourteen months later you are saying goodbye.*And here I am suddenly an only child, in a spinning haze of life going on regardless of the fact that my brother is gone. Going to class, filling up with gas, shopping for groceries, watching TV, taking a shower, having dinner, feeding my horses, checking one kid's homework, and the other kid's college plans, making lunch for my husband, all the day-in day-out stuff that I always did.Only now it's this weird reality. I have more sympathy cards on my kitchen cabinets than I had Christmas cards this year. People I haven't heard from in years, reaching out to me with folded-paper hugs. It's so bizarre. So wonderful and sad at once.And maybe it's taken me so long to write this because in all the business of everyday life, even with the cards and phone calls, even with the times that the realization has knocked me sideways, it really hasn't hit me until now.We didn't  have the perfect relationship (who does?). We didn't talk everyday, or even every month. But the thing about me and my brother was that we didn't need to. We just got each other. In a way that not even my parents, my husband, my kids, even my best friends - John understood me, and I him. That's the biggest thing I will miss. The one person who knew me better than anyone else, is not here anymore.Not here, perhaps, but not gone. He was sitting on my shoulder the whole first week of classes, cheering me on. He's with my sister-in-law, watching over her and trying to help her feel like she's not alone. He and my grandpa are puffing away on cigars, keeping an eye on our parents. He's with his buddies, calling them all a bunch of no-good shitheads. He's with his nieces and nephews hopefully making sure they don't get into too much trouble, but probably snickering when they do. And he's definitely at the store, his baby for the past umpteen years.It's just...selfish, I know, but I just wish he was still here.Things I've learned over the past year:Laughter is the best medicine.True love won't let time or space get in its way.Never underestimate the power of being nice to people.Forgiveness is hard.Oncology doctors and ICU nurses are in a class by themselves.Frampton Comes Alive is an album that should be listened to all the way through, over good food, with people you love.A year goes by way too fast.This was played for John at his Celebration of Life. I couldn't think of a better song:http://youtu.be/FHO6a2H-pqYMore about John here, here, and here. And on YouTube here and here.*also: I just want to say Kudos to Valerie Harper and thank her for being so open, brave and honest about her recent diagnosis. Hopefully by bringing more attention to brain cancer, scientists and doctors will be able to come up with more effective treatments for this brutal disease.

Thanks, as always, for reading. xoxo heidi.For information or to donate to the John Giovannoni Memorial Scholarship Fund, click here.please feel free to leave a comment below.

Bear with me

So...thank you to my readers. It's been almost two months since my last post, and I can see by my stats that I still have readers, so, really - Thank You.

I have been working on my latest post for a while - it's a tough one, and not quite ready. But I felt I should at least check in with you and give you something. I don't know why...like your lives are so empty and meaningless with out my mindless blathering...

The past month has been filled with life-altering change. One  I'll address later but the other (and both changes happened within a 24-hour period of each other) is that I am now a full-time college student. I'll be talking a lot about that, but in the meantime, until the new post is ready I thought I'd give you a few things to read.For my bookish readers, I must recommend two sites by my very dear friends and critique partners. (If you don't know what a critique partner is: they are the very special people who you somehow trust enough to read your precious, precious manuscript-in-progress and love it when they point out to you the crappy parts that need fixing.)PBookCrazy.com - Crazy about Picture Books

 My friend Dawn is a picture book NUT, and will soon have her own manuscript gracing many an elementary students' shelves. Her writing is so full of energy, character, and heart that kids will love it as much as Mo Willems or even Dr. Seuss. This is her ode to her chosen medium.RMcCormackWrites.blogspot.com - Rhonda McCormack's author siteYou first met my friend Rhonda in my interview here. She is really getting some steam underway with the release of her YA mystery, Wildflowers. If you haven't stopped by her site yet, now's a good time, because she's having a giveaway! Check it out.And if you're new to my site, I thought I'd pull a few favorites from the archives:Focus, in which I discuss the useless information that may one day come in handy if you're ever on Jeopardy.

Colicky Babies and Rookie Mistakes, in which I discuss horse colic, and show an embarrassing photo of myself, circa 1982.

What's in a Name? Part I, in which I correlate Brock Lesnar, Maddox Jolie-Pitt, the storybook Heidi, and a vintage perfume commercial.No, really.So, enjoy reading, and bear with me. I'll have something new soon.Thanks for stopping by.Heidi 

Foggy morning, December

We finally had a good soaking rain. It has been over 3 months since we had any precipitation, and the whole place - the house, the yard, the whole city for that matter, had been covered in layers of dry gritty dust. There was a lifeless pallor over everything, keeping the color and vitality of the desert hidden from view.While everyone in the rest of the country gets hammered by storms, here's us:

Not that I'm asking for a hurricane (my heart goes out to everyone affected by Sandy), but a few drops here and there would be nice. Below is a lovely photo of what we Phoenicians call "the brown cloud," caused by ozone: "Ozone is an invisible gas created when other pollutants in the air - such as those created by combustion- are heated by the sun." Just another day for us:

And then I'm sure this doesn't help the dust situation - summer dust storms known as Haboobs. (Yes that really is what they are called, and yes, they really do look this big and freaky)

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrcVqtmugj8]

So when we hear we are getting rain after almost 4 months, we kinda freak out. All the weather people have their sleeves rolled up, the maps are flashing all over the place, and weather is the LEAD STORY.

What is just an average storm in any other part of the country is an event for us. I mean, it didn't just rain...it rained for two whole days!! 

I loved it.

Sat in my jammies drinking coffee all Saturday morning, then actually got my rain jacket out of the closet (yes, it had DUST on it!), and went out Christmas shopping.

In the rain!

It was kind of exciting. Everyone had jackets and/or hats, and some even had this fancy type of nylon water shield that they would hold over head. You see them a lot in British shows.

But the cool this was, everyone was in a good mood. And mellow. No grumpiness, obnoxious yapping or complaining...just cool, you know? The rainy day vibe.

The horses loved it, too. They stood out there, just soaking it in, and getting good and muddy.

And then I woke up Sunday morning, to

FOG.

Let's see what else we can find around the ol' place...

Thanks for hanging out with me on my foggy desert morning! I hope you are enjoying some crisp fresh air, wherever you are.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today I was listening to a discussion on NPR about retail businesses being open on Thanksgiving day, and how right or wrong that decision may be. One of the things I love about public radio is the fact that they support open debate over many topics, with views from both sides.One person was saying that hey, it's a business decision, it's part of the economy, it's the way things are going now, with such a competitive retail market - stores having to compete with online retailers, yada yada yada.Another was saying yes, but what is it doing to our society when we can't even have ONE DAY where folks can take time off and spend with their families?The response to that was, well, what about all the people NOT in retail who have to work anyways? Police, firefighters, hospital workers, etc. Add to that the fact that many retail workers were jumping at the chance to work the holiday, for the extra pay. Who are we to say they shouldn't work if they want to?Then a comment from a caller came in, so angry and vehemently AGAINST the idea that anyone should work on this holiday, and that it just makes everyone look like greedy slobs, having to make money, or needing to go out shopping for that amazing deal only offered at midnight turkey madness. And how embarrassed she was to call herself an American, and lots of other vicious spewing.To which I say:

Can't we all just get along?

Personally, I think part of the problem with society today (yeah, I'm going there) is that everyone is looking to blame somebody else for everything that has gone wrong in their life, in the country, the world, you name it. The Conservatives blame the Liberals; the Muslims blame the Jews; the Christians blame the Atheists; the Blacks blame the Whites, who blame Everybody Else - and vice, vice, vice, vice versa.

DUDE.

JUST BE NICE TO PEOPLE.

I'm so sick of it. It's like a bunch of kids on the playground, all pointing their fingers at each other:

He did it!No, HE did!She did it first!

Maybe it's having a brother with a tumor in his head that puts it all into perspective. The Jews, Blacks, Conservatives, Muslims - nobody put that tumor there. Not even God. It just is, and it sucks. It sucks that he has to go through a week of heavy-duty physical therapy just to be able to remember how to put his pants on or tie his shoes. It sucks that his wife is so worried and stressed out that she had to be hospitalized as well.So when I hear people bitching about how horrible it is to want to work or shop on Thanksgiving, or, Christians telling people they will "go to hell" if they don't believe in Creationism or have an abortion, or Hamas bombing Gaza because of WHATEVER IT HAPPENED A THOUSAND YEARS AGO. Just fucking love thy neighbor and get over it.So tomorrow, break bread, even if it's with people who irritate you or done you wrong or stole your boyfriend. Just be Thankful you have someone to break bread with. Be Thankful that you have bread to break. Be Thankful that you have the ability to read this, and computer access. Be Thankful that your house didn't get washed into the ocean. Be Thankful that you can sit around the table with those you love. Even if you less-than-love some of them.And be Thankful that you don't have a tumor in your head.And if you do have a tumor in your head, I love you. I'm sending you a big hug.And be nice.Happy Thanksgiving.

Jane Says

Last week I was driving around running errands and listening to Jane's Addiction. Remember Jane's Addiction? God, one of my favorite live recordings ever is "Jane Says."

This is the cover to their debut studio album, ironically titled "Nothing's Shocking." At the time, it was a pretty shocking image to me. The sculpture was made by Perry Farrell, after an image he'd seen in a dream, and most retailers at the time refused to carry it. The album was then sold with a cardboard slipcover.I've been listening to them for 20 some-odd years, but the other day it got me wistful. It reminded me of my post-high school, pre-marriage years when my friends and I worked the late shift at restaurants, stayed out watching live bands in dive bars all weekend, and tried to make our Intro to Theater class Monday morning. Before Starbuck's, before everyone had a cell phone, before iPods, and before anyone realized that computers would soon be cool. The days of driving the 300 dollar, 70s-issued muscle car that your uncle fixed up for you. When we were phasing out of the super-teased headbanger concert hair, and going through our grunge hippie phase.I have another little spot on the web, called "Moongroove." It's a very different site, kind of a little happy place for me to zone out, collect images that make me feel good, and share some of my favorite music. One of the pictures I posted recently really made me want  to go to a concert again:

I mean, look at that chick. This image perfectly captures that feeling of having a great time. I used to love going to concerts, and I wanted to go again. But it's not what it used to be. It's expensive! And crowded! And you don't get home til 2:00! And...ugh...it's just easier to stay home, right? Man do I feel old.So I got lucky when I found out that Jane's Addiction would be at the Arizona State Fair. I could go to a concert, the tickets would be cheap, and I'd get home early. Better yet, I invited one of my old-school BFFs. Done!I have to admit, I was a little trepidatious about going...I mean, Perry Farrell's been in & out of rehab how many times? And he's how old? And what's the big deal about Dave Navarro anyway? I was afraid they would just sound...thrashed.OH BOY WAS I WRONG. They were AWESOME! In fact, I couldn't believe how great they sounded. I guess that's one of the good things about going to see a band that made their way by playing live gigs; they just know how to do it. And not only did they sound great, they were fun to watch as well. Dave Navarro just rips on that guitar, and Perry, well, Perry could be his own show. I don't think I have ever seen a concert where the lead singer was enjoying himself so immensely. I mean, he was smiling the whole time. The dude was just having fun and loving life. And you know what? It didn't stop with him. That's the thing about good energy. The whole stadium was having a good time. Everyone was in a great mood. It flowed out of him, and it was contagious.It might have had something to do with the fact that the entire place reeked of weed, but...no, really. It was an awesome show. If you get a chance to see them live, don't give it a second thought. Just go. And have fun.

Jane saysI'm done with SergioHe treats me like a ragdollShe hidesThe televisionSays I don't owe him nothing,But if he comes back againTell him to wait right here for meOr justTry again tomorrowI'm gonna kick tomorrowGonna kick tomorrowJane saysHave you seen my wig around?I feel naked without itShe knowsThey all want her to goBut that's O.K. manShe dont like them anywayJane saysI'm goin away to SpainWhen I get my money savedI'm gonna start tomorrowI'm gonna kick tomorrowGonna kick tomorrowShe gets madStarts to cryShe takes a swing butShe cant hitShe don't mean no harmShe just don't knowWhat else to do about itJane goesTo the store at 8:00She walk up on St. AndrewsShe waitsAnd gets her dinner thereShe pulls her dinnerFrom her pocketJane saysI've never been in loveI don't know what it isOnly knows if someone wants herI want them if they want meI only know they want meShe gets madAnd she starts to cryShe takes a swing manShe cant hit!She don't mean no harmShe just don't knowWhat else to do about itJane saysJane says

monte carlo photo credit

Make Good Art

Please watch Neil Himself, and Make Good Art. I hope this inspires you as much as it did me.http://vimeo.com/42372767?utm_source=Ypulse+Updates&utm_campaign=ba9e633306-YDU5_25_2012&utm_medium=email

Gypsy Stallion Showcase (and) Why Am I Selling My Horse?

-- NEWS! I can now offer a FREE Breeding as part of Keira's sale! See her page for more info! --

We are currently downsizing our herd—meaning, we are going from two horses to one :) Keira is for sale. I hope to find her a happy, loving, forever home, hopefully one with lots of little girls to pet her and brush her and put ribbons in her hair.The reasons we are down-sizing are many, but it has nothing to do with WANTING to sell Keira. I love her to pieces, and it will break my heart to see her go. But our horse journey has changed drastically in the past 7 years, since Chroicoragh first trotted into our lives. Back then, we had dreams of building a modest herd,  taking them to all-breed shows; entering them in the Parada del Sol  and other parades; training them to drive a cart; and eventually have our own breeding stallion and move to a 200-acre farm somewhere and happily live out our days breeding adorable Gypsy Horse babies.But then the economy took a dump, we came very close to losing our house, like many Americans, and to top it off, we ended up having a very long, expensive, and complicated battle with the school district in regards to my youngest son.That fight, for the most part, is now done. I will not go into details here and now, but I may at a later date, and hopefully a much more public format. They say the pen is mightier than the sword...and I would LOVE to slay some public school dragons. Anywho...our lives, jobs, and family have gone in a different direction than when we started. And now with our oldest son in college (how is that friggin possible?? I'm not nearly old enough to have a kid in college!), our youngest finally in high school, and with my husband and I looking down the road to our not-too-distant future, some rearranging and simplifying is in order.And I wish I could say it had nothing to do with finances. We are trying our best to provide our kids with an education that they will not have to be paying for in the form of student loans for the next 30 years. Our oldest is pursuing a degree in International Business with a double minor in Spanish and German. His dream job is to work for Porsche, BMW, or some big fancy car company. (He loves horses, too, as long as they are under the hood!) He will be headed to Germany in the spring to fulfill his study abroad requirement for his degree, and hopes to land an internship at one of the car companies while he's there. (I know, he's crazy smart and motivated, neither of which he gets from me)Since I left my job, my current focus is to finish my book, and then find some sort of career that will help prepare us for our golden years. Now, ideally, this job will be promoting and selling my book and going on international book tours (there's a little Law of Attraction for you!). But it never hurts to have more than one feather in your cap, so I am preparing myself to either A.) Go back to school and get my degree, or B.) Pursue another career to be named at a later date. If it's one thing I've learned, it's that after 16+ years of being a stay-at-home mom, then 3+ years of schlepping magazines, you are pretty much screwed when it comes to looking for a real job. I have no degree, no skills, no experience; I must be a flipping idiot. How do I even make it through the day?So, back to the point...what was my point again? We are going through lots of changes around here. But just because we will be a one-horse-herd family, doesn't mean I haven't stopped dreaming about my 200-acre Gypsy Horse farm with lots of babies and a beautiful stallion! I mean, going back to my whole LoA thing, when I sell my book, and get back from book tour, I might need to invest my earnings in some real estate, right?So, let's just go with it! I've just gotten back from my months-long excursion, traveling the world, and signing lots of copies of my book (yes it can happen! here's my inspiration). I just sold the movie rights to Harvey Weinstein, and I've got to invest my big check so Uncle Sam doesn't take it all.

Time to go stallion shopping!

If I could stock my stable with a dream-boy lineup, this is who I would pick:(click on stallion's NAME to go to their home pages)

Platinum:

I've already proclaimed my love for this guy. I believe he's been sold, but have no idea where he ended up. If you know, please reply below!

♘ ♘ ♘

The Midget Stallion:

I've had a crush on him for a long time, and finally got to meet him this summer in Tennessee. He's absolutely adorable in person:I wish I could have gotten some good photos of him, but it had been raining for days and all the big boys were in their stalls. He throws gorgeous foals, and I got to see some of the cuties.

♘ ♘ ♘

Silky Boy:

Here is Keira's ½ brother, Silky Boy, so named because his hair is so soft and silky, just like Keira's. A top stallion in England. He and Keira are both sired by Lenny's Horse.

♘ ♘ ♘

Sundance Kid:

Ummm...Hello? I think if Brad Pitt were a Gypsy, he would look like this. If I was 12 again, I'd want this poster on my wall.

 ♘ ♘ ♘

The Viking:

Can you say "Presence?" I think if The Viking and Chroicoragh had a baby, it would literally glow.

 ♘ ♘ ♘

Darrig:

Darrig is one of those horses. He just has some sort of personality - I have no idea why I like him so much, I just do. Must be that Gypsy magic. He's a gorgeous chestnut and he's built like a tank.

♘ ♘ ♘

 Blue Bobbi:

Look at this guy! I think I have a new crush...♡

♘ ♘ ♘

The Hustler:

The Hustler is another awesome stallion imported from Clononeen farms. I just love his coloring.

 ♘ ♘ ♘

Starbuck:

 Umm....yeah, do I even need to say anything about this stallion? I mean I think if Sundance Kid is the Brad Pitt of Gypsy Horses, then Starbuck must be the George Clooney. And I loooves me some George Clooney... :)

♘ ♘ ♘

Here are a few that are new to me, but I could easily fall in love with them.

Sir:

 Sir has a beautiful head, nice conformation and hair. A bit of a sleeper, I hadn't heard of him before this post but I have a feeling he'll have a great career.

 ♘ ♘ ♘

Lucky

If I had to guess, I'd say Lucky got his name from the lucky "Gypsy Kiss" on his forehead. A Gypsy Kiss is a small dark spot in the blaze of a white faced horse. Please click on his picture to see more photos on his page.

♘ ♘ ♘

Sir Tristan:

He is just too pretty! Two blue eyes, too! He throws lovely foals.

♘ ♘ ♘

Phantom Knight:

Phantom Knight, a very unusual colored Silver Dapple stallion owned by Mike Nenni in Florida.It's very easy to get distracted by a horse's color, but if you look beyond that—on each of these wonderful stallions—you will see the best in conformation. A Gypsy Horse breeder will breed first for temperament, next for conformation, hair and the gorgeous coloring is just the icing on the cake.If you are in the market for stallion service for your mares, or are simply in the market for  Gypsy Horse in general, I highly suggest visiting some of these stallions' homes on the web. RESEARCH. Look at bloodlines, previous foals, and the quality of the farm's broodmares.

♘ ♘ ♘

Speaking of icing on the cake, I am excited to announce that as part of Keira's sale, I can offer one FREE BREEDING to either of these two gorgeous stallions! Thanks to Peggy and Steve Owen of Superstition Foothills Ranch for this incredible opportunity!

Please see Keira's page for more info.

♘ ♘ ♘

And, finally, my all-time favorite, the AMAZING Lloyds, also owned by Michael Vines:Lloyds is attributed to be Chroicoragh's sire. The DNA tests came back "unconfirmed." Which either means A.) The DNA results were simply incorrect (this has happened before - someone told me that a mare that she bred herself -well, not herself, ha ha - came back with inconclusive DNA results, and have heard other similar stories); or B.) A colt of Lloyds covered Chroicoragh's dam while out to pasture, which has also happened before. In England and Ireland, it is common to turn out a stallion with a band of broodmares, and let nature take its course. If there are young colts in the bunch who decide to take a turn, they can sometimes impregnate the mare.Either way, I'm happy with Chroicoragh, I don't care who her sire is. I'm still convinced it's Lloyds - she and all of her siblings inherited his gorgeous head - I just see too much resemblance there to think otherwise:When I saw the filly on the left, I did a double take - I thought it was a photo of Chroicoragh that I hadn't seen before. Like I said, it doesn't matter to me if Chroicoragh's sire is Tony the Tiger, I love her all the same.Good luck finding YOUR dream horse! I know I left out many many other great stallions, but I only have so much time! These guys are my personal favorites.Which one is yours? Leave a comment below, I love hearing from you!Thanks for reading,Heidi

P.S. for more great photos, please visit Elizabeth Sescilla's Flickr feed.

Online Art Gallery

This Labor Day, I was lucky enough to be invited up to my BFF's family cabin for the weekend. It's in a small mountain town, just far enough away from the heat and congestion of the city. AND host to an annual craft & artisan fair.I love these fairs. There are so many beautiful things to see, and you have a chance to get to know the people who made them. My problem is, I can never afford anything there! So I figured if I can't directly purchase some of the artwork I saw, the least I can do is help support local artists by telling everyone else about them. That whole "word of mouth blog" idea. :)If I had my own art gallery, I'd be happy to have these pieces in my shop! Keep reading til the end to see my top picks of the weekend.

Heidi's Online Art Gallery

If you love browsing through home decor magazines like me, you may have seen chairs like these adorning some high-end Aspen getaway:Anita Cordes Willis makes them by hand and sells them here: http://riverbottomfurniture.com/If Jewelry is more your speed, you might like these kiln-formed glass pieces handcrafted by Ray Balda:Check out Ray's Facebook page: Kokopelli Art Glass (and click "Like!" - when I asked Ray if I could feature him on my blog, he said only if your readers Like my Facebook page!).  Thanks, Ray.Judy Brooks brooks6@juno.com makes these gorgeous pottery colanders, as useful as they are beautiful:Jo Burke joburke@commspeed.net knits cute handbags and felts the wool in hot water to make them sturdy and long lasting:Want more jewelry? Here's some by Vickie "Bead" Smith:Right next to the fair is a REAL art gallery, Myra's Art Gallery & Studio. It has been a landmark of the Pine, Arizona main drag for many years. Myra is a lovely woman—an artist herself—and was kind enough to show us around her gallery. She is host to some of the most well known artists in the state, and can tell you all about each of them. She allowed me to photograph some to share with you:Please visit Myra's page to see more from these amazing artists and visit their own websites.We went back to the fair and I got my mom some earrings for her birthday:

Here are my top three artists from the craft fair:

Nancy Koski:Nancy is a potter and an artist. She makes original pieces of pottery, then paints beautiful pictures on them by hand. Nora E. Graf:Nora's art is truly one-of-a-kind. She carves and paints dried gourd vases. Simply amazing. I would love to have a few of her pieces in my home.Raymond Judge:Raymond is a navajo artist who makes these tiny watercolors:And he makes jewelry:And he sculpts. Check out this Pronghorn:Please support these amazing artists by visiting their sites, telling your friends about them - and, hey, maybe buy a piece or two!We had such a great time on our weekend away. We even got to load up a bag of used books at the library for 2 bucks!We had a great weekend. And this pretty Coues deer doe said goodbye to us as we left:Thanks for reading! What original artwork have you seen lately?

A Thousand Words

Back to the Mountains - a picture post

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, first of all, THANK YOU!! :) and second of all, you'll be glad to hear about a place familiar to us; our favorite spot in the beautiful White Mountains of eastern Arizona. This is where you first heard of it. Here's the follow-up from last year where you see our lovely tree burned to the ground.In celebration of quitting my job, the last hurrah before school started, and my husband having 3 days off, we headed back to the our favorite spot for a cool break from the 115° heat. Here are some AAaaaahhhh moments:

 ...and then my battery died.

The nice thing to know is that the area is bouncing back nicely. Fire kills forests, but in the ashes come new life. Grass is growing thick, and our camp spot had the biggest surge of baby Aspens that we've seen since we've been coming here. The wildlife will feed on the fresh new growth, and the whole cycle will begin again.

Thanks for coming along with us, and I hope each of you has a chance to get out and enjoy a nice weekend with your family.

Take care!

Heidi

I am Leo Hear Me Roar (or) Why I Quit My Job

I am a Leo. I totally connect with it. I've always loved cats, the color yellow, and the warmth of the sun on my face. And a big fluffy mane.I'm super-creative, super sensitive, I love being the center of attention. The biggest compliment you could give me is to appreciate something I've made or laugh at something funny I've said. It makes me happy to make others happy. And recognition. Just say,

Hey, Heidi, you did a great job.

In other words: I do it for the applause.

The biggest insult you could give me is to assume that I can't do something. In which case I will most likely treat it as a challenge to prove you wrong.I also have a cat named Leo.In this, my birthday month, a lot of changes have been taking place. First of all, I left my job as a magazine merchandiser. I have to say, it has been a great job for me the past three and a half years. The hours were flexible & the pay decent. I will miss the people at my two stores, the employees as well as the customers. Even though I worked for an outside vendor, the people at the store always made me feel I was part of the team. I absolutely LOVED making sure all of the magazines looked JUST SO: perfectly spaced, stacked evenly, and easy for the customer to browse, and appealing to buy. It helps to be crazy-detail-oriented and slightly OCD when making a magazine rack look so AWESOME.But my greatest pleasure of the job was helping a customer finding something to read. I love selling books.My biggest frustration with my job is that I had absolutely no control over what books we stocked. They came pre-ordered, shipped in cardboard boxes every week. Most were your big-name sellers: James Patterson, Nora Roberts and the like. We did get a few literary treasures, and I did my best to help guide people to new and noteworthy authors, and try new genres (like YA! - see my little YA section in the front there?)But every week, I'd have folks asking for something that we didn't carry. And I'd read Publisher's Weekly, hear about all of these great new titles out there, and on our shelves, in pre-plan-o-grammed slots, stood the same sorry old titles, month after month, collecting dust. Why? Is it someone meeting a sales quota? Does Nora Roberts have evil geniuses hitting the "buy" button at distributing warehouses? Who knows. All I know is, in the great scheme of things, I was simply the schlub unpacking the box in the backroom, and getting merchandise out to the sales floor. And then I'd walk into Barnes & Noble or even (shudder) Costco, and see the titles that PW wrote about that week. I mean, even the book page in People magazine had better titles than we had a t the store. Ugh.Once I had a customer ask me:

Are you the book BUYER?

I wish.Besides my frustration at my limited amount of input, I began to have physical problems. Today, in fact, I am going in for an MRI so the doctor can see a nice pretty picture of the disk in my neck that has bulged out enough to pinch a nerve, causing numbness and tingling through my arm to my fingertips, and a baseball-sized knot in my shoulder. Ouch.Thanks, in part, to:This is how magazines come shipped to the store. Each of those bundles* weighs approximately 25 lbs. They get delivered in these red plastic totes, and each tote weighs 40-50 lbs each. A typical delivery at my biggest store averaged 25-30 totes. I figured on a good day, unpacking new magazines, lifting and stacking the totes, and carrying stacks and stacks of magazines to the checkouts and the main aisle and then packing up all of the old magazines, for about 6+ hours, I would move about 1,500 lbs of merchandise in a day.So, while it is a very good workout, it's also a little hard on the ol' bod. And when my company announced that they were no longer going to have the accounts of the stores I serviced, I figured the timing was just as well. So I decided to move on. But I am very grateful for the experience. I learned so much in the past three years—not only about work, but about people, and a lot about myself.I do have a couple of ideas in mind about where I want my future to go, career-wise, but for the immediate future, I'm going to concentrate on some yoga & physical therapy, get back to nesting, being a mom, playing with my horses and writing a lot. (Insert happy face here)Which brings me to the last thing I wanted to share with you: pictures of our latest outing. You may recognize one of our favorite get-away spots in the mountains.

✢✢✢

*BTW: Shame on Oprah. For some reason, her magazines are some of the heaviest. I like Oprah, I think she does some really great stuff. But for someone who preaches how to make everything better all the time, she should really be printing her magazine on recycled paper. REAL SIMPLE is printed on recycled paper, AND they don't use that heavy-duty plastic wrapping either, and they are the lightest weight magazine I have stocked. THANK YOU, REAL SIMPLE! Rachael Ray also prints on recycled paper. Oprah, your magazine needs to get in shape.

✢✢✢

P.S. In brief: In recognition of one of the true pioneers of the feminist movement, and the founder of Cosmopolitan magazine, Helen Gurley Brown, who passed away this week at the age of 90.Here's a piece from NPR.

Frampton Comes Alive, Food, and Divorce.

Remember albums? Listening to a whole collection of songs, from A side to B? When's the last time you listened to Frampton Comes Alive?

My brother John is going through his CD collection and rediscovering the joy of listening to an entire album uninterrupted. Recently I was lucky enough to be there for this classic, and while we jammed to Frampton, I put together a little nosh, and played with a new app: Evernote Food.

Evernote Food is an app for your smartphone. On it, you can document a meal: dinner out with friends, a new gourmet recipe you're trying, or just hanging out with your bro, like I did here. Click to see our amazing meal of crackers and fresh midwestern cheese:

Our Dinner in the Woods

I think the idea of the Evernote Food app is to document more expertly-prepared food, but I used it just to document our time together. Which we don't have often enough.If you've read this post about my brother, you know that he was diagnosed with a brain tumor last December. He and I have lived 1800 miles apart since I was a sophomore in high school. It's been hard to live so far away from one of the few people on the planet who knows you better than anyone else.It's even harder when you know you should be spending more time with them, being a part of their everyday life; a regular face among their crowd of friends gathered for drinks on a Tuesday night for no good reason. You should be a part of that.When somebody in the group says, "Hey, remember that time we ___?" You should remember it because you should have been there. But you weren't because you wound up six states away, one of the cons of your parents divorce.If it sound like I'm a little bitter, I am. Divorce is just one of those things. When you're a kid and it happens, you just have to make the best of it, like this scene from Talladega Nights:But as you get older, and are raising your own family, you begin to think of the decisions your parents made. Right around the time your kids get to be the same age you were when your own parents split up, you start looking at the situation with new eyes.You think, Would I have made the same decision? Would I have done things differently? Would I have split up my family?I don't know. It's over 30 years ago for our family, and the repercussions still echo. At least they do for me and John. It's hard. I mean, when you see people together who are obviously miserable, but are keeping it together "for the kids" sometimes you just want to tell them, oh give up already!But then you see those same kids at the airport, with their backpacks and boarding passes, off to see their other parent. The one they don't live with. The one who carries pictures in their wallet and shows the ladies at church or the guys at the work, "Here's my kid," in a wistful sort of I-wish-I-was-picking-him-up-at-the-schoolbus-stop-instead-of-the-airport sort of way.And you wonder: If this parent knew how it would be, would they re-think that divorce? Probably not. I know in our case it would not have been different. But I just wonder sometimes. It's hard not to. Wonder, I mean.So John and I will do what we've done for so long, and continue to make the best of it. We will visit whenever we can. And unlike some siblings who've been able to grow up together and as adults, do nothing but fight with each other, we cherish our time together. We eat cheese and apples and double-dipped chocolate malted milk balls and call each other disgusting names and rock out. To Frampton.http://youtu.be/DON-4ZubYbgWhat's YOUR favorite listen-all-the-way-through album?  John can add it to his list - Leave it in the comments section below.

Really Good Pizza

This is my Grandma G, circa 1970-something. You can tell it was 1970-something because of the way she's rocking that paisley dress, and by my Uncle Tom's sideburns in the background. Check out his sweater vest.My cousins and my kids call her Nonna, her name is Lena (short for Angelena), but my brother and I have always known her as Grandma G. She was born in Chicago to immigrant parents, and didn't speak a word of English when she got to school. She said all the kids made fun of her and called her stupid and dirty and that's why, when my dad, aunt & uncle were little, she only allowed them to speak English. And that's why I don't know Italian. So don't make fun of people just because they don't speak the same language as you. It's mean and ignorant.Now, anyone who knows my grandma also knows that she used to make the best pizza on the planet. It's a fact. It's also a fact that no one is able to duplicate it. She has taught me so much about cooking over the years, and has even tried to teach me how to make pizza. And I tried. I really did. But I have come to this place in my life where I am accepting my limitations, one of them being I will never be able to make Grandma G's pizza. At least not like she does.And, believe me, it's not because she had some recipe hold-out. You know these cooks. There are some who will simply not share a recipe, or, if they do they leave out some secret ingredient or step, so that no one will be able to make whatever-it-is as good as they can. Grandma isn't like that, and neither am I. We like to share. We're nice people that way.Grandma G's pizza is made in a pan. You spread olive oil in the pan, stretch the dough out and add your ingredients—in a decorative and properly spaced fashion, so that each bite will get you something yummy. Here is a pretty good attempt, but still not quite the same:This is a recipe I found online. The woman does a video tutorial and is just so...grandma-ish. You'll love her. Here's a link: MaryAhearn.com; John's favorite pizza.My grandma used to do this thing where, when the pizza was almost done, she would slide the whole thing out of the pan, right onto the oven rack, to make the crust crispy. I tried to do that once. It was a disaster. Don't ask.I think part of the problem, and this was Grandma's idea, is that the water here in the desert is different than it is in the Midwest. That and the whole humidity thing. Back in Chicago, you can make your dough early, let it rise, punch it down and let it rise again, form it into whatever bread or pizza you are making and then let it rise AGAIN before baking. Here, the triple-rise kills the dough. Or at least it does when I do it. I'm not a professional by any means, but I've been playing around with this whole dough situation for going on 20 years now.So I kind of gave up on trying to make Grandma's pizza, and went about how to make Heidi pizza. My inspiration came from the 2nd-best pizza on the planet: Red's Tavern in Harvard, Illinois. Bonnie (Red's wife) makes her pizza sooooo thin, it's like a crispy cracker. And its just soooooo yummy. I tried many, many times to make a crispy-cracker-thin pizza that was still yummy, and...I failed, many times. Until...

UNTIL...I found this magazine:

Forget the pie. If you find this issue in a yard sale or library bin, GRAB IT! It has the best pizza recipe EVER, and it's EASY! Better yet, here's the link: Fine Cooking Create Your Own Pizza Oh my gosh, you are going to love it, you are going to Thank me, so I will just say you're welcome now: You're Welcome.Their recipe is a "Create Your Own." They give you options, based on your personal tastes, and you make the pizza however you want. Here's the skinny on the crispy-thin crust, from my experience.

The dough:

• 1 ¾ Cup warm, not hot water (100℉)
• 1 Tbsp. Olive Oil (yes, EXTRA VIRGIN*) he he that olive oil is inexperienced.
• 2 tsp. kosher salt
• 1 ½ tsp. yeast (I just use a whole packet, which is 2 tsp., works fine.)
• 1 ½ tsp. sugar
• 4 ½ C. all-purpose flour (OK, here's where the dry air makes a diff. I had to cut this down to 4 cups)

Stir the salt, sugar and olive oil into the water, then sprinkle in the yeast, then—and this is the fun part—you can just dump all the flour in at once, and stir it up with a wooden spoon. Look gooey? Good. It's supposed to. Now cover loosely with plastic wrap (you can spray it with non-stick stuff so it doesn't stick to the dough later but no biggie). Let rise for 2 hours. OMG are you in a hurry? yeah, no sweat, this will work even if it doesn't rise that long. I've even made it right before I started cooking and it was fine. Doesn't get as bubbly and stuff, but it's still pizza. Get over it.The dough will rise and fall on its own, no need to punch it down. Then you can refrigerate before using, but again, you don't have to. (Do you get the feeling that I'm a make-it-at-the-last-minute kind of gal?) The dough keeps well in the fridge and, truth be told, it's even a little better after a day or two.

The Sauce:

• 1 28 oz. can of peeled tomatoes in juice (San Marzano style if you can get 'em, if not, just get the store brand)

Pulse tomatoes in a food processor—or right in the can, using a stick blender—and the dump in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat and maintain simmer, stirring occasionally for about 40 minutes til tomatoes are reduced, and super yummy. You can use the tomatoes that have the basil with them, it comes out pretty yummy.

"But Heidi, why do I have to use whole tomatoes and then dirty up my food processor? Can't I just buy puréed tomatoes and call it a day?"

Yeah, if you're a total wuss, and you don't like good pizza. I mean, why do you have a food processor to begin with? To make f*cking better food, that's why. Just man up and do it the right way.

The stuff:

You can put Whatever You Want on your pizza!! YAY!!Really, you can put whatever you want on your pizza. I like good ol' cheese and sausage, some onions, maybe mushrooms. Just remember, with a thin crust you can't load it up too heavy or the dough will get weighed down, and won't slide off your pizza peel. Which leads me to...

The Technique:

• flour
• rolling pin
• corn meal
• pizza peel (the wooden paddle)
• pizza stone

First, place your pizza stone in the oven and heat to 450°. You don't need an expensive stone. I got mine at Big Lots for 10 bucks. First time you use it, you have to heat it gradually—start the oven at 350, then work in increments until you can heat it to 450° for half an hour or so, the hotter the better. (Read the directions that come with your stone.)Ok, so you have your gooey dough. Grab a handful, about the size of a peach. Place it on your floured counter, and you will probably have to pat it down into a little circle, just like when you were a kid and played with your play-doh. Sprinkle more flour as needed, then roll out the dough with your rolling pin. Keep rolling and flipping your dough over, until it is super thin. You want to make sure to flip it over and move it around, adding flour as needed or it will stick to the counter.When your dough is about ⅛ inch thick or less, transfer it to your pizza peel which you have GENEROUSLY dusted with cornmeal. The cornmeal acts as a slider for the dough so it won't stick to the peel. Then you put your toppings on. Sauce, cheese, and whatever else. Don't put your toppings on before you have your crust on the peel!! You will have to just throw it all in the garbage.This is what happens when you don't have enough cornmeal, or part of the peel gets a little olive oil on it:But we cooked it anyway, and even though it looked goofy, it still tasted good!The pizza will take about 12-15 minutes to get nice & crispy. I will say, it's still not as thin and cracker-y as Bonnie's, or my brother's favorite (and possibly a contender for best pizza ever): Pizza Bella in Palatine, Il., but, for a home cook who's still trying to figure things out, it's pretty damn good. And you know what? We never have leftovers.I'll be going to visit Grandma G. next week. She just turned 92! Here is a picture of her in her wedding dress:

And me in the same dress, 50 years later:She's an awesome lady. If you have access to a grandma, I highly recommend giving her a hug and thanking her for everything she did. Because I'm sure you don't even know the half of it.If I get my act together and can do it on a day when I don't look like shit, I will have my kids video me making this so you can see the whole process. Until then, if you have any questions, leave them in the comments and I will be happy to be your pizza Dear Abby.

Here's some more pizzas. I hope your turns out good!  Hint: Open a bottle of red wine when you start cooking. Have a glass or two. Practice. By your third or fourth pizza, everything will all be just fine.

*about olive oil: don't call it E.V.O.O. Rachael Ray has some good recipes, and seems like a cool person but she bugs the shit out of me. And if you ever say YUMMO around me, I will slap you.Comment! Comment! Comment!

Welcome to the Barn - New Site Launch!

It has been a long, long journey to get here. As I write this I am listening to Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation," and putting the finishing touches on this here brand new site that you are reading right now. Any posts dated prior to this are from my old Blogger address. Blogger has served me well the past few years, and was a great place to start a blog*. But the time had come to move on.I had been considering a move to WordPress for awhile. While I loved my Blogger site, it was getting a bit outdated and cluttered. And when reading other blogs, I kept seeing themes and design that were just so  beautiful, modern, and streamlined.During this time, Blogger had completely re-done their format with new design features and offered newer, more modern templates. Even a pretty cool Dynamic View feature. But I was still frustrated by limitations of design customization. So I started this: whenever I was out surfing the web, and came across a blog that had a professional-looking, beautiful and easy-to-funtion site, I would scroll all the way down to the bottom of the webpage, and look for the attribution, and this is what I usually found:

And then something else happened: Apple decided to move their MobileMe service over to iCloud.  I had been using my MobileMe account for email, and as a website host for my domain (www.westceltgypsy.com) ever since I moved from Homestead.com, where I first started my online career. So not only was I already looking at a new blog design, but now I was being forced to find a new web host as well. Up til now, my stand-alone site for my horses and my blog were two separate sites.

What I really wanted to do, if I was going to go through all this trouble anyway, was to take my horse website (westceltgypsy) and my blog (Chroi and Me) and blend them into one.

So I started really looking in to WordPress. Now for those of you new to it, there are TWO WordPresses:

1. WordPress.com, where you can go and in about 10 minutes, have your very own blog for free, and
2. WordPress.org, where you can go set up a self-hosted blog.

After starting with #1, Wordpress.com, I got that same old Blogger frustration: I just couldn't get it to look like I wanted it to look. I wanted certain fonts, certain design functions that I just couldn't control at WP.com. So I looked into #2, WordPress.org, and although I knew it was going to be a HUGE learning curve, I decided to jump in.*For those of you who are contemplating your own possible future in the blogoshpere, check around, and see what you prefer. There are other free blog sites out there (Live Journal), and some very nice pay-by-the-month sites (Typepad).  But my own recommendations, based on TONS of research, weeding out the garbage,  AND the fact that I am cheap, is this: stick with Blogger or WordPress.Try Blogger if you:

• are new to Blogging
• need something simple; easy to learn and use
• just need a free web presence that you can link to your other social media accounts
• don't know anything about code and don't WANT to know
• enjoy the power and reliability of Google (Blogger is powered by Google)

But go to WordPress if you:

• are a little more web-savvy
• are comfortable with tweaking a little bit of code every now and then (you don't have to, but it helps)
• are going for a more professional look (doesn't look homemade; lots of design options)
• like the idea of being part of something that is open-source
• believe that this is just a jumping off point for you, and that in the future you will build your blog to something bigger and better

But most of all, like they say in the writing world, if you want to write a book, you need to read lots of books. If you want to start a blog, read lots of blogs. Find out what appeals to you, what turns you off; look at the attribution; read the comments; comment yourself. Be active and get involved. Just like the guy in the group that is so annoying because all he does is talk about himself, and promote his own projects, nobody likes the narcissistic blogger. You can only help yourself by being part of the conversation.Why? Read on.Right around the same time I started to learn WordPress.org, my bosses over at the catering company talked to me about helping them with their Social Media Marketing platform. At the time, they had a website, and a Facebook page that one of their kids had set up two years ago, and that no one could remember the password to. It had 6 likes. They were focused on just updating the Facebook page, but I told them that while Facebook is an incredible marketing tool, it is merely one spoke in the wheel of online marketing. I said, "You gotta have a blog." Their response was, "Really?"Really.While the mainstream world is still just catching on to blogging ("what's a blog again?") and the blogosphere goes through hot-and-cold spells, it is my firm belief that a blog is the simplest, most important, and FREE online resource to entrepreneurs, artists, freelancers and just about anyone else who wants their presence known. Basically your blog is your online "hub," where your audience can find you, and which links to all of your other internet "spokes": your website, Facebook page (a Facebook fan page is different from your personal profile), your Twitter account (yes, you DO need to be on Twitter), your Pinterest page and more. More on all of that in an upcoming article.I started online with a very homemade-looking website with Homestead.com, moved to a better looking site built with iWeb, started a blog with Blogger, a Facebook page, a Twitter feed, and now this all-in-one totally sexy new WordPress self-hosted site. Along the way, I've sold 3 horses, started writing a novel, learned about writing, met some awesome people (who you will get to meet soon!), and now have others reading my work, and learning from me. In other words, I have been building an online presence, hopefully a positive one.Part of the reason this latest chapter has taken so long is that I haven't only been building one blog, I've been building two: this blog, the catering blog, plus a new Facebook Page and Twitter for them. Plus my fabulous job as a magazine and book merchandiser, driving for the caterers, feeding my boys and husband, laundry, housework, shopping, blah, blah, blah...yeah, I know, welcome to life in the 2010s, right? Everyone's working about 12 jobs.So to that end, I would like to say Thank You. Thanks for taking a little slice of ever-elusive time out of your busy day to stop by. I really do appreciate it. And I'm still surprised every time someone tells me that they read my blog. I still think it's just me and my pajamas with a cup of coffee, blathering away into space. One thing that bloggers love? Comments. See that little box at the bottom of this page? Drop me a line, say hi, and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you.For now, I am off on a much needed break. I'm heading up to the cool pines with my girl-friends for some R&R at a nice quiet, no wi-fi cabin. We will be reading gossip magazines, drinking wine, watching chick flicks and having pillow fights in our underwear.Just kidding on that last one, wanted to make sure you were paying attention. :)So welcome to the new WestCelt Gypsy/Chroi and Me site, please browse & read, and let me know what you think. I'll be checking in on my phone.Have a great weekend!Heidi

Santa's Elves - Caught in the Act!

Here is a video of real-life elves at work! Sssh...don't tell Santa.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1c4rh4A71M]

What a great video! Thanks to Carol, Rick, Sam, Lindsay, and all of the wonderful elves at

The Music Room!!

For more info about John's Christmas tree, read my previous post. 

An Ode to my Brother...by the way, you smell.

For the 5 people who read this blog, sorry I haven't written.But what do you say when you don't know what to say?You just say it, I guess.My brother has a brain tumor.I mean, how else do you put it?Fucking cancer.This is my brother John.

1970

1984

2009

When I was 5, John and I were playing in the sandbox. I was pissed at him for putting rocks in the sand, and he was pissed at me for putting Barbie in the Tonka truck. I said to him,

"I dont' give a..."

I paused, and then dared to say it:

"DAMN!"

John promptly jumped up, and ran inside to tell on me. I had my mouth washed out with soap. I can still taste it. To make things worse, we got the extra special treat of going to McDonald's for dinner that night (just think, it was a treat back then) and not even a vanilla milkshake could get the taste of soap out of my mouth. I think John felt guilty for telling on me, because he had no idea how severe and painful the punishment would be. Or how much he would have to listen to me bitch and whine about it. He patted me on the back.

And that's how big brothers are. One minute they're throwing you under the bus, and the next minute they're making sure you're OK.

Our younger years had alternating moments of fighting like cats, and then laughing hysterically. Riding somewhere in the car could either be complete torture:

"He touched me!""No, she touched me!""Move over!""When are we gonna get there?""He stuck his tongue out at me!""Stop it!""Mo-om!"

Or a contest to see who could keep a straight face the longest while the other made funny faces. It usually ended up with stuff flying out of our noses because we were laughing so hard, and our dad threatening to:

"...pull this car over right NOW, and you can walk to Grandma's!"

Which always shut me up because I had no idea how to get to Grandma's, and was usually wearing very uncomfortable shoes.

Then we went through a phase where we literally wanted to kill each other.

Normal, right?

Then we became friends.

It started right around the time when we both realized that our parents were going to split up, in our early teens.  The funny thing is, even though we spent the rest of our lives apart (he with my dad and me with our mom, and then in different states), we've always been very close.

We haven't spent nearly enough time together. There was always going to be that time, you know, in the future, where we would have some sort of camping trip together, and hash out all the family bullshit, and have this totally immersing bonding session.

In no way could I have imagined that the totally immersing bonding session would take place in a hospital room after a meeting with a neuro-oncologist.

But we did. My brother, his wife Chris and I had an incredible roller-coaster of a week together.  We laughed, cried, held hands, ate chocolate, and thanked god for the incredible ICU nursing staff at Evanston Hospital. My sister-in-law, her family, my parents and myself had a constant rotation so that my brother would always have someone in his room with him. I learned how to sleep on a waiting room couch, and the quickest route to the cafeteria. Thank goodness they had Starbuck's coffee.

John & Chris

Then when he got to go home, I busied myself with cooking, tidying and running errands so the two of them could relax. I cherished seeing them in their home. Sitting together and having a meal. Browsing through Christmas catalogues. Looking at all of the things that make them happy - their books, music and movie collections. Pictures of friends and family. Carefully placed model airplanes make with painstaking detail by my dad, and given as birthday gifts. Art made by nieces and nephews, in places of honor on the refrigerator door. I wanted to absorb it all, make it a part of a memory so that when it came time for me to go, this is where I can picture them from a distance. My brother's guitar in the living room, and drum set in the basement. The piano in the front room.

on their wedding day

We celebrated John's small victories, like being able to sleep for a couple of hours, or take a shower, or take a shit. Then, too soon, he had to go back to the hospital, in an ambulance, with a debilitating headache. This time, a different facility, and the care was not so nice, or professional. The doctor assigned to John was something out of a movie - on the worst ego trip imaginable, and not one shred of empathy. His nursing care was lacking in decision-making abilities and any type of follow-through, which resulted in us watching my brother going through the most gut-wrenching, heart breaking pain I've ever witnessed in another human being. My incredible sister-in-law Chris completely (and rightly so) lost her shit on that doctor, and read him the riot act that he deserved. I stood right next to her and backed her up as well as I could - not that she needed it - mostly by nodding and saying, "yeah."

getting ready for an MRI

Then my week was up. I had to say goodbye to them in the hospital. Thankfully he went home the next day, under new orders for levels of steroids that he'd been taking to quell the rate of swelling in the brain due to the tumor.

He's halfway through his radiation/chemotherapy treatment now, and goes through daily ups and downs. As the tumor reacts to the treatment, it flares up and pushes on different areas of the brain, causing different side effects. One day he went completely blind for two hours. His taste buds have gone wacky and some things that he really wants to enjoy - like beer - have a bitter or "off" taste. He'll have numbness or pain in his hand and wrist, which for a musician is particularly frustrating. He takes his chemo in the form of a pill, in the evening, and he says that in the middle of the night, he can feel his body reacting to it. It's hard to sleep.

We try to make sure to talk every few days. We check in with each other, the three of us, and talk about what's going on with him physically, what he was able to to that day, we talk about my kids, and about our parents and how well or not-so-well they are handling the situation. But mostly we just talk.

I have to say, my brother is an amazing person. He'll be the first one to argue against that. He'll say what an asshole he's been over the years to various people, or that he should've done this, or shouldn't have done that. But I don't see that. Maybe it's the nature of being the little sister, but I have always, ALWAYS, looked up to my brother.

• He's an amazing musician - he started out playing the trombone in Junior High, then, listening to big-band records,
• taught himself how to play drums (starting with one snare drum and a spare piece of carpet to pound on),
• then, by monkeying around with various pianos, whether it be at church, school, or Grandma's house, taught himself how to play piano,
• then had to have an incredibly patient woman (Holla, Sue Schiller) re-teach him to play properly and read piano music,
• then went on to play guitar...he's one of those disgusting people that can play pretty much any instrument you put in his hands.
• He worked his ass off,
• put himself through college in his early 30's,
• finally married the love of his life (took you long enough!)
• and has been co-owner, teacher, and all around badass guitar specialist extraordinaire at The Music Room in Palatine Illinois, with his partner of 20 years.

His biggest joy as a businessman is helping a kid get set up with his first guitar. Finding the right fit, and seeing their faces light up when they strike the first chord. He's goofy as hell, a kid at heart, really, and just loves what he does. That's why everyone around John loves him.

The evidence is in the hundreds and hundreds of emails, texts, cards, posts on his Facebook page, and on the Caring Bridge site that Carol, his business partner and longtime friend, set up for him. Carol put out the call to their wide-reaching community of friends for a Christmas ornament drive, since John and Chris had no energy to haul out decorations, and on Christmas Eve, when the family was away at my cousins' house for family celebration, Carol and her boyfriend Rick, along with a host of volunteers,

set up a Christmas tree with hundreds of ornaments sent from near and far with love from everyone they knew, and cards with messages of hope and cheer for John's health and recovery. It was truly inspiring.

In closing, I'd like to add one more note. Our family recently suffered a loss in the death of one of our cousins. Second-cousin to John and me, he was just a bit older than us, and all in all, a pretty cool dude. Upon hearing the news, my brother wrote this:

Sometime between Christmas and New Year's, my cousin Paul died. Don't know the circumstances, don't know anything really. What I do know is that I never told him that he was the reason I became a drummer. He was older than me, just enough to be that really cool cousin (to my ten-year-old-brain). He had a Gold Sparkle Slingerland set that was just the bomb.Paul was sickly all his life - although I never knew that. I never heard him complain about not feeling good - don't get me wrong, Paul will go down as one of history's greatest complainers - but he never talked to me about not feeling well. He'd complain about the same stuff I would: "Why isn't Phil Collins more known as a Drummer?"We all have people in our lives that we owe debts of gratitude to; people with whom we've lost touch; people that changed us, and possibly we them. I want to ask you all to think about those people in your life, and reach out to them, somehow, before it's too late.Paul died alone. Damnit.

In response to seeing this I have to say to my brother John:

You have always been my hero. I know that sounds SUPER cheesy, but it's true. I have looked up to you my whole life. I tried to be like you, but completely failed at playing any type of musical instrument (not for not trying), and joined choir because you and Chris and all of your friends were in choir. (shout out to Mrs. Keene) If Paul inspired you to be a drummer, you inspired me to be an actor. Actor? Yes. It was after seeing you in Guys & Dolls that I wanted to be up there, on stage, having as much fun. And when I realized music wasn't really my thing, I discovered that acting was. And through that, it led to my newfound love of writing, which I could not be more grateful for.

But other than that, having you as a brother, and observing you and your friends growing up, I was able to understand the male gender as a whole. As little kids, we got dirty, we played Army, or Cowboys & Indians. We shot BB guns and climbed trees. I wore your hand-me-down Toughskins and t-shirts, tried NOT to "throw like a girl," and listened in on your Dungeons & Dragons games with James & Droop. I wanted to be a Boy Scout, not a Girl Scout. We joked about gross disgusting stuff like boogers and farts and poop. I found out what guys liked and didn't like in girls. And that, while some girls are very pretty, and these are the girls that guys like to look at, they're not necessarily the girls that guys want to hang out with. I paid attention.

And now I live with three booger-fart-poop guys, and I dig it. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have a sister. Especially seeing Mom and her sisters' relationships, or that of my friends. But I'm so glad I have a brother. As a guy, you taught me what kind of girl to be, and, had it not been for growing up with you, and seeing how things affected you as a kid, I would not have been able to be the parent I am to my boys. I would not have been the same person, wife or mother if not for you.

I'm glad we have this crazy sense of humor and that we can laugh at things like brain tumors, and that our nicknames for each other revolve around some sort of fecal matter. That we can vent to each other about our fucked-up family, and laugh about that, too. (more of that here.)

And I'm sure somewhere in your mind you are thinking you don't deserve any of the praise you have been getting, from me or anyone else. And you're thinking about some of the mistakes you've made over the years and wish you could take them back.

But I'm here to tell you that I would have you as my brother, as you are today, and I would not change you one iota, other than to take away your suffering. I wish you no pain, no remorse, no regret, and I wish you lots and lots of laughs. Laugh so hard that stuff comes out your nose.

Namely, that fucking tumor.

Most of all I wish and hope that we have many many more laughs together.

On a beach. Toes in the sand.

I love you.

...by the way, you smell.

Your little sister.

John

This is my awesome brother John.

He is going through a rough time right now.

Please keep him in your thoughts.

More info coming soon.