Just Pictures

Well we are on the road again, this time to the north rim of the grand canyon. I'm playing with my new iPhone and blogging while my husband drives.It's unbelievable to me what we can do with technology these days. Video calling and all the stuff we used to see on the Jetsons is here. Now all we need are floating cars and jet packs.I really want a jet pack.But until then I have to say I am pretty thrilled with my new iPhone. It's awesome. And now I will be able to take more video! As soon as I can figure out how to get the video from the phone to blogger, you'll see more of that.For today, I'm posting some random pictures of dirty horses :) and all weekend I'll tweet pics of our trip. (twitter link on the right).Have a great weekend!Heidi

Wildfire

If you've been reading my blog for over a year (thank you!), you may remember a trip I took you along to one of our favorite places to get away, Arizona's White Mountains.

(click photos to enlarge)

It's simply amazing to us that we can leave our door in the hot, dry, dusty desert at temperatures in the 110s and up, drive for a few hours and be in one of the most pristine wilderness areas you'd ever want to see, surrounded by greenery and wildlife, a new rainstorm blowing over every afternoon, and temps in the fresh, cool 60s.And you may remember the lone Ponderosa Pine in the photo above, also here:

And you may or may not be aware that a huge, devastating wildfire ripped through eastern Arizona earlier this year.

Along with being worried for our friends in the small mountain towns, we wondered: what would happen to our special place? For a while after the fire, we thought about going up, just to check things out, but were afraid of what we'd find.

A couple of weeks ago, we decided to go for it. It was a combo birthday weekend for my eldest son and I, and none of us had the energy for a big birthday bash, so we decided to celebrate with a relaxing family trip to our favorite spot. We crossed our fingers and hoped that it wouldn't be just a pile of charcoal.

We saw plenty of evidence of the fire as we made our way up the mountain.

Between the blue sky and the green grass stood dead, dead forest.

We were so relieved as we pulled into our camp spot that most of it had remained unharmed.

We set up camp, the dogs luxuriated in the cool grass and we went off to explore.

And soon found evidence that the fire had come through our area, biting off big hunks here, and leaving things untouched there.

I have no idea how one tree can burn to the ground, and the one right next to it, survive.

And what of our Lonesome Pine, you ask?

This huge tree, I don't know, maybe 5ft. in diameter, and over 100 ft. tall,

is now a relic:

before

after

This fire, to completely burn out the entire core of such a massive tree, must have been so hot, so intense...I can't even imagine it.

But...the grass is green. That means things are growing, right?

Yes.

One thing about fire is that it feeds the earth to nourish new growth. And the cycle of life begins again.

But the best thing that could have happened on this trip, besides the one fish we caught

Was the most unbelievably bright, huge and beautiful double rainbow* I've ever seen:

It was so close we wanted to look for the pot of gold.

And couldn't even fit the entire arc into the camera shot.

It was an awesome birthday.

On the wildfire:

The Wallow fire, the largest in Arizona history, burned Over 530,000 acres and 32 homes and cost more than $79 million to fight.

The two hikers responsible for the accidental start of the fire are Arizona residents, cousins both in their 20s. They could face up to six months in prison and fines up to $5,000 each. While I agree that people should be made responsible for their actions, I do not agree with "hanging" these two young men for an accident that quickly ran out of control, due to natural forces beyond their or 2,347 fire personnel's ability to contain.

While we use extreme care with our fires while we are camping, we understand that this mistake could have happened to us, or anyone else. The two cousins claim that they believed their fire was extinguished, but obviously a spark remained.

Instead of severe punishment, maybe the two could be used in a public-service ad campaign.

I mean, whatever happened to Smokey the Bear?

Only YOU can prevent forest fires.

Maybe having that mantra firmly re-planted in the American psyche could help prevent a tragedy such as this.

But if it's one thing I've learned from this weekend, it's that certain quotes ring true:

"Without the rain, there would be no rainbow."

Gilbert K. Chesterton

and that when you have a title for a blog post that reminds you of a song,

that song will be running in your head for days.

Enjoy:

"Wildfire" by Michael Martin Murphey

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gl4Y4FWWkn0]

*and because I can't even say "double rainbow" with out thinking of this guy, here's the link:

Yosemite Mountain Bear Double Rainbow

Horse Drawn Wagons via Traveller Dave

I'm currently working on a drool-worthy, eye-candy Fantasy pick of Gypsy Horses from all over. Until that's ready, I thought I'd share a site I found recently. These are photos of horse drawn wagons from a collection by Traveller Dave.

When asked for permission to use his photos, Dave ended his reply with this:

For those who live in houses, it's a romantic lifestyle...but day to day reality is very different & using modern roads amongst thousands of intolerant stupid car drivers is always a risk !!

cheers

dave

Thanks Dave. Keep on truckin' :)Please visit Dave's site for loads more pics. Links at bottom of post.

Traveller Homes:

www.travellerhomes.co.uk

Horsedrawn wagons page:

http://www.travellerhomes.co.uk/?s=62

Traveller Dave:

www.travellerdave.co.uk

Normally I would have more organic links, and links from each picture to its url of origin, but Blogger is giving me some trouble. Hey, Blogger? You ever hear the phrase "If it ain't broke, don't fix it"?

It wasn't broken. Stop trying to fix it! Argh.

xo,

Heidi

Arizona Haboob

Have you ever seen a Haboob?

If you've watched the movie Hidalgo, you've seen a Haboob. There's a scene where they have to outrun a huge dust storm. I mean HUGE. You may have been thinking, "Wow,  great special effects - that can't be real."

While the special effects were spectacular, I can guarantee you, storms like that are real. I saw it happen last week.

This is what it looked like:

This storm was over 60 miles wide, and reached a height of 3,000 feet. It engulfed the entire Phoenix metropolitan area, otherwise known as The Valley of the Sun. My oldest son and I were out running errands at the time it hit, and as it approached us, the cloud looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, a huge black monster eating everything in its path.

While haboobs are not uncommon for this part of the world, they aren't frequent, and as many Valley dwellers have remarked, never this huge. Most people I've spoken to said that they've never seen a dust storm of this magnitude before. The other strange thing about this one was the behavior of the storm.

Usually when you see an enormous wall of dust move across the desert, it is accompanied by fierce, gusty winds that make you feel as if you will blow over. First the wind, then the dust, blowing hard. Then there will be a strong downpour, dumping several inches of rain in a rather short period of time. And the before you know it the clouds are gone, the desert has been scrubbed clean, and everything has this wonderful damp woodsy-deserty smell.

And there will be a puddle in front of our house about the size of Lake Michigan. This is all normal behavior for Arizona monsoons.

But this storm had the creepy, eerie factor of just...hanging there. The wind stopped, and with minimal rain, the dust didn't have anywhere to go. It was like fog, only dry and gritty, and for days afterward, everything was coated in a fine powder.

The haboob reminded me of a movie I once saw about the dust bowl days, and in the film, this woman literally goes crazy because everything in her house is covered in dust; she opens the cupboard to get the dishes, and dust just pours out; there's dust piled up in the corners of the room, drifts of it.

And while our house didn't look quite that bad, it sure wasn't pretty. Especially when you throw in dog hair dust bunnies big enough to build a new dog...Am I the only one who hates doing housework? I didn't think so.

And sometimes during weather like this I look out at my poor little British equines.

Gypsy horses certainly weren't made for the dry, dusty, dirty desert. One of these days when I win the lottery :) I'll have a summer place with lush green pastures for them to frolic and skip in, with daisies in their hair. Until then, they'll just have to suffer through it like the rest of us.

I mean, a few months of unbearable heat is better than snow, windchill and below freezing temperatures, right?

Right?

Little Stinker

Yesterday, our first son turned one

He went to work with Dad

(yes, that is an Elmo clip-on tie)

Then we had two boys, and we went camping.

Yesterday, our boys had a first day of school

He caught a big fish,

went on vacation,

went to the beach

got his first elk.

Yesterday, he wore his first tux

shot a self portrait,

went on his first trip alone, and made a life-long friend

Took a goofy picture

took a Senior picture,

And then this young man who was a baby just yesterday,

Graduated high school.

How is this possible?

Isn't there some sort of rule that they're supposed to stay little forever?

And cuddle in your lap and ask for a story?

Something having to do with the time/space continuum?

The flux capacitor?

Peter Pan? Neverland?

Where's pixie dust when you need it?

And then,

the following week,

my baby called in the middle of the night

(2:00 AM)

and said,

"Put Dad on."

And we went to go get him, and this is what we saw:

That's his truck.

On its side.

That's the mailbox he hit.

See all those lights in the background?

That's about six cop cars.

There wasn't anything else going on.

But one of those friendly officers calculated that my son was driving about 9.7 mph,

when he veered up onto the curb while trying to swat away a moth.

#$%@ing moths.

He and his friend were fine, thank goodness.

He went to the neighbor's house the next day to fix the mailbox.

The mailbox is going to be OK.

The truck?

We're working on it...

Little stinker.

***

What's in a Name? Part II; Equine edition

Read Part I Here.Chroicoragh and Siofra came to me already named, and I loved both - feminine, fitting, and Irish Gaelic. Chroicoragh was named after her mother, Clononeen Chroicoragh:

Chroi was born in Ireland and came to the US on an airplane when she was six months old. Quite an education for a weanling, and maybe that's why she's so smart.

It's amazing how a sweet little baby:

Can morph into a full-grown, beautiful horse:

(yes, it's the same horse!

Read about gray factor here.)

Many people will change a horse's name upon taking ownership. Your "Wildfire" could be someone else's "Rusty." This happened with our colt. I thought and contemplated and researched and stewed for days, trying to come up with the perfect name, and then I figured it out: Arthur. I absolutely loved it; classic, masculine, regal - heck, Arthurian. And it just happened to be my dad's name. Here's the little stinker:

He was the cutest thing - such a chunky monkey, and the wooliest little horse you ever saw. I can't wait to see pictures of him as he matures. He will be a fantastic stallion, lots of flash and attitude. The gal who bought Arthur is in east Texas, and changed his name to "Aubie," after the University of Auburn mascot. Some people think knights and legends, others think sports. But that's a prime example of names and meanings, and another of the many the differences between people.

Names are a popular topic among writers as well. When you have a story to tell, the characters involved have to be compelling; someone you reader can relate to, and a name can really help the character connect to the reader's heart.

Here's a few that come to mind: Holden Caulfield, Scout Finch, Elizabeth Bennett, Dorothy Gale, Bilbo Baggins, Harry Potter, Scarlett O'Hara, Sherlock Holmes, Lucy Pevensie, Jay Gatsby, Jane Eyre, Ebeneezer Scrooge (Does it get any better than that? Ebeneezer Scrooge?) Tell me there's not one character in that list that you didn't connect with somehow. And I would bet anyone reading this list could come up with at least ten more.

In writing my story, I have to say I was lucky when it came to my lead character's name, because her name and the idea for the story happened at the same time. It just came to me all at once, like a lightning bolt. The side characters have been even more fun to create, and when the name comes, it helps form the image of the person in my mind. As I write, I see them; their expressions and reactions, how they walk.

I'm like a little spy, up in the sky of their world watching it all unfold, and writing it down. It's actually a lot of fun. The hard part is when it gets foggy and you can't see what's going to happen next. Some people call it writer's block. To me, it's just a fog, a slight mist perhaps, that I just can't see through quite yet.

But the naming of anything, whether it be babies, horses or fictional characters, is something that deserves a fair amount of thought and consideration. I usually have a pretty good idea of at least a few names to try. But this time around I was stumped. What to name this little creature?

For some reason I was drawn to floral names (Daisy, Blossom, Buttercup) but none of them fit. She's very feminine - leggy and graceful, and sweet. I'd always liked the name Serafina, but it just seemed a bit much. Besides, Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner stole it. I even thought of Violet, since both of her eyes are blue, but the Afflecks stole that one, too. Buggars.

I also like the idea of sticking with an Irish name, but I figured it's enough to have one difficult-to-pronounce, non-phonetical name. I have always included a pronunciation hint for Chroicoragh's name (Cree-Core-ah), because it is a very unusual name, and because I can't stand it when I don't know how to pronounce something. J.K. Rowling drove me crazy with Hermione until she finally gave us a clue on how to say it: Her-my-o-nee.

People can get kind of carried away with the whole Gaelic thing, though. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE it. I love all things Celtic. But for these purposes, it's a little like salt. A bit of it is fine, for flavor, but too much is just overkill. I've seen breeder pages where every horse's name is some sort of ancient medieval spelling of a name that no one has any clue how to say, and then they don't even give you a pronunciation for it. Drives me crazy. Sjkjdhefb - there's my horse's name. It's pronounced "Jim."

Okay, why not just call him Jim?

So, in naming our newest filly, I wanted Irish, but not too crazy with the spelling, a nature name, and something feminine. When I knew Serafina wouldn't work, and I found the name Fina at namenerds.com, I knew we'd found our name. Irish for vine, it's different enough without sounding stupid, and easy to pronounce. Done.

So, Fina it is. I think it suits her, don't you?

 

Update March 2012: Fina has been sold and her new owners call her "Athena."

However, one of the benefits of registering your horse is that her name will officially remain

WestCelt Fina.

If you or someone you know is on the hunt for a name, here are a few sites I found helpful:

http://www.namenerds.com - Irish, Welsh, Scottish, and other unique names.

http://www.babynames.com/character-names.php - A great page from babynames.com, on naming fictional characters.

An interesting article Concerning the name Fiona

Just for fun:

Irish name generator

Pirate name generator

Fairy name generator

And, Finally, when doing all of this searching around for names and their meanings, I came across this YouTube video of a band called Late Night Alumni performing their song, "What's in a Name?" The singer has such a beautiful voice, and the topic was so fitting, I thought I'd share it with you. I think artists nowadays need all the help they can get, when trying to get the word out.

Enjoy:

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

I Like: Music

Don't worry, I will get back to the name game, but I wanted to introduce a new category on my blog:I Like.Things I saw, read, heard, tasted or clicked, and liked enough to pass it on.Check it out:

If you're one of the few people who've never heard Adele's Rolling in the Deep, take a listen. It only takes one time to love it. It's infectious.

http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mixpod.swfNow meet this same song, remixed three ways:http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mixpod.swfRolling In The Deep (Ben Samples Remix) from ThisSongIsSick.comGreat version if you are having a party with lots of people, a real house-crusher that you see in teen movies where the sole goal is losing your virginity - that type of party - but the cast is a little older, and a little more cosmopolitan-cool, and most of them have already gotten laid. Put this song on and turn it up LOUD. Awesome pop-dub-techno track. No one will get bored listening to this thumper. The girls closest to the stero will be grooving their hips in that way when you just cant help moving your body, so you just pop a few beats out while engaging in casual conversation, and flip your hair a little. So, put the cuties by the speakers. (free download)http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mixpod.swfRolling In The Deep - Mike Posner from freshnewtracks.comSame party, about four hours later, half the people have gone home. Only the cool kids are left. Everyone's relaxed, mellow, and getting acquainted. This track features a male voice singing the song. You're picturing him, some mellow dude hanging out on the old corduroy couch in the basement, flipping through your mom's old collection of vinyl LP's, he's got the headphones on, listening to Adele and singing along. Everyone else in the world sounds like crap when they sing along to the radio - I'm slightly worse than Julia Roberts singing Kiss. But this guy is the exception, giving a smooth, flavored feel to the song, with a really great backbeat. Again, play it loud. The kind of loud where you have to lean in a little to hear the person across from you. (free download)http://assets.mixpod.com/swf/mp3/mixpod.swfRolling In The Deep (Avicii Remix) from freshnewtracks.comThe house music version. High heels & short skirts, strobe lights & fog. This is the one you'd expect to hear in one of those clubs in Vegas where you have to wait in line for 2 hours to get in, the music is so loud you can't think straight, and a trip to the ladies' room involves serpentining your way through the sweaty, bouncing crowd. And you love every minute of it.Now go dance your ass off. Even if you've never been to Vegas; if the closest you'll get to high heels & short skirts is chore boots and your old Levi's, if the last time you were at a house party was 25 years and three kids ago, turn it up & get the living room floor dirty. Dance around the kitchen and sing into your spatula.I have to give credit to my son for finding each of these versions. He's music crazy and finds all the remixes before I've even heard the original. He's pretty awesome.http://www.adele.tv/www.freshnewtracks.comhttp://thissongissick.comDisclosure: This is not a paid endorsement, just stuff I think is cool.

What's in a Name? Part I

"What's in a name? That which we call a roseBy any other name would smell as sweet."So says Juliet. But do you think that sometimes people reflect the nature of their name? I guess that's why the task of bestowing a name upon another living thing is so difficult. It has to fit. A good example of this: Could you imagine naming your sweet newborn baby boy "Brock?" It seems a bit much for a tiny baby.But look at Brock Lesnar:

I mean, he just looks like a Brock, doesn't he? He completely grew into his name. I can't imagine him being called Joey or Bernard, can you? Would he have grown into a UFC Heavyweight champion if his name were Francis Dingle? Maybe. Maybe not.

I've talked before about the associations with my name,

Heidi

. As a little girl, in my little-girl way of thinking, I always considered Heidi to be a kid's name. I wondered what my name would be when I became older and finally got a grown up name. It must have been that Shirley Temple movie. Forever preserved in her cherubic, albeit black-and-white state, I couldn't imagine her "Heidi" as a grown-up wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase like the lady in the Enjoli commercials, who so exuberantly professed her ability to

Bring Home the Bacon

and

Fry it Up in a Pan

.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA4DR4vEgrs]Her name was probably Marcia or Shelley or something blonde and sexy like that.But however age limited I saw my name to be, probably my biggest impression of it came from one of my favorite books - the Little Golden Book version of Heidi:

This version of Heidi, though predictably blonde, was always skipping around barefoot in fields of wildflowers, frolicking with goats, wind blowing her hair.

And Happy.

I think that's the main reason I came to really like my name. Heidi is a happy name. Just as Brock is a strong name, Heidi is a happy name.

Bestowing a name upon someone or something is fun, interesting, and tough.

The hardest part about having my children (besides labor!) was deciding what to name them. Would I have a Brock or a Francis? What kind of person did I want them to be? Does a person's name help develop their character?

The challenge is to come up with something that is different without sounding odd; unique but not obscure.

Today I met a lady named Ione. I complemented her, and she thanked me with enthusiasm. She loved her name. I'd only ever heard it pronounced as eye-OH-nee, but she pronounced it eye-OWN. She said, "I don't loan, I don't borrow, I own." It sounded clever, and it was her way of owning (no pun intended) her name.But where do the names come from? If you're named after a rock star are you then expected to be musical? Or a literary figure - if your name is Sawyer, are you adventurous? What about Darcy? In Jane Austen's novel, he is brooding, dark and handsome. But other than Miss Austen's hero, have you heard of any guys named Darcy?Part II; What's in a name? Equine edition, next!

Only the Good Die Young

Last week, while we were still in the happy afterglow of new life, my husband's family suffered a tragic loss. A cousin he and his siblings had been close to in childhood passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.There have been a few subjects mulling around in my brain for my next blog post, but after an event like this, they all seemed inconsequential. I felt the need to honor this woman's life, if but for a moment. I can't say I knew her well; her family is located in another state, and visits with them were infrequent. We didn't have any sort of relationship beyond annual family gatherings and the exchange of Christmas cards. But she was the type of person instantly liked by anyone who met her. She had a great sense of humor and loved to laugh. We shared the same name, and the lighthearted joke when we were introduced was that I was the "other" Heidi.Heidi greeted everyone with a warm smile, a warm hug, and when she asked "How are you doing?" she meant it. One of the most genuine and unpretentious people you'd have the pleasure of knowing. My husband has great memories of growing up and spending time with her and her sister, and his siblings, all hanging out as cousins.For many years, she taught school and enjoyed every minute of it. One of those rarities - someone who actually loved her work, and it showed in the more than 2,000 visitors who came to show their respects at her wake and service.

Her greatest treasure was her family, especially her kids. A devoted daughter, sister, wife, and most importantly, a mother of two, an undetected health issue took her from this world earlier than any would have imagined. She will be greatly missed.

Please keep her family in your prayers, and hug your own.

The Home Stretch

It's a little after 1:00 AM, and I just went and checked on Chroi. She's not due for another eight days, but I figure we're in the home stretch. She could deliver early, and there's a storm front coming in from California tonight. Arthur and Keira were both born during a rainstorm, so I'm paying close attention to her as the barometer drops.But she looks OK, I think she's still got some time left. Although, she is showing that she's more uncomfortable - shifting her weight, and laying down to nap. And she's quite bitchy with Keira, too, chasing her off and not wanting anyone to mess with her.Oh I remember those days! When I was pregnant with my first, by the end of the term, I was so miserable; puffy with water weight, my feet were so swollen that none of my shoes would fit; the skin on my belly pulled so tight I thought it would pop, and no matter how hard I tried I could not get comfortable. Like sleeping on top of a watermelon. I finally took to walking around the mall, for miles it seemed, just to kick-start my labor and get it all over with. Little did I know it was the last time I would ever have peace and quiet.Just kidding. Peace and quiet is highly overrated, I'm sure.But I can relate to the crabbiness. When you're fat, puffy, and uncomfortably carrying a watermelon in your belly, you can get a little crabby. Keira better look out, 'cause Mama's not having any of it. Chroi's watermelon is more like one of those giant squash-pumpkins you see at the fair in the bed of a pickup truck.Ugh. Poor thing.

I Like His Thinking

Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

(click to view larger)

Dream big, I always say.

Love Is...

Love Is...

Finding your soulmate

your first dog

Sharing Chocolate cake

Spending your honeymoon camping

We couldn't afford a big trip

But we didn't care

...Finding out that it wasn't really an "all-day flu"

Taking your kids on adventures

Birthday cake frosting

Playing in the snow

Elk hunting at Thanksgiving, and

flirting with your guide ; )

Finally getting that honeymoon,

and bringing the kids

Having a fight,

and getting over it

Boys

Good times

Birthdays

First cars

Sleeping in the shade

Love is...

going to Costco in your jammies with your husbandbecause while he wants to surprise you with flowers,He also wants you to hang out with him.And who wants to go to Costco alone?So you pretend to browse through the bookswhile your he picks out your Valentine's bouquet.

Love is...

Almost 20 years of memories.

Happy Valentine's Day.

♡

Looking Forward and Looking Back

As we head down the home stretch toward the birth of a new foal, I can't help looking at Keira and being amazed that it's already been two years since her birth. She's growing into such a beautiful young mare, filling out nicely and showing promise of everything you'd look for in a Gypsy Cob.In much the same way, I've been noticing all the little kids I see; so many babies and toddlers helping their moms shop in the store, leaning just far enough out of the seat in the grocery cart to reach candy so temptingly placed in their path; or my 1½ year-old nephew, who has a new talent every time I see him. One day he's drooling over his sippy cup and the next day he's walking - no - running all over the place, giggling and playing peek-a-boo.It seems like yesterday that my own two little monkeys were perched in that grocery cart playing with whatever contraband they'd plucked off the shelf, or running around living room furniture, playing hide-and-seek, and giving me those long-lashed flirty blinks that my nephew now sends blushingly over to my sister-in-law. The look only a little boy could give to his mother that says it'll be a long time before he's in love with anyone but her.

I see these little ones, and I'm instantly transported back in time. You know, you never appreciate anything while it's happening. It's only after the moment has passed do you realize how special it was. When my boys were small, people told me all the time, "Enjoy them while they're little, 'cause it goes by fast!" And here you are: still haven't lost your baby weight, haven't had any sleep, constantly covered in some sort of baby slime, your little angel is screaming his head off, you haven't had a minute to yourself in ages, and you roll your eyes thinking: Not fast enough.

And the next day you're taking your son to tour colleges. He's getting ready to graduate high school, has a job and his own car. Answers every question with "whatever" and can text 80 words per minute. Your youngest is riding his dirt bike down the street, much to the chagrin of the neighbors, listens to everything from the Beatles to Led Zeppelin on his ipod, and surfs the web looking for a cool drum set and a Ferrari to haul it in.

The same little boys would curl up next to you in bed, begging for just one more story. Beamed with smiles if you showed up to help in their class at school. Cranked up your old Phil Collins CDs and played air guitar with your kitchen broom. Convinced you that this time the goldfish from the school carnival would live longer than a week.

It used to be Blues Clues, and now it's Step Brothers. They used to get excited over a new box of crayons and a jar of bubbles. Now everything is stupid, they tell each other to shut up, and see who can fart the loudest.But if I've learned anything, it's to appreciate even these times. Bickering, eating like pigs, hip-hop music, pants worn too low, homework battles, messy rooms, Jersey Shore and constant references to bodily functions. Yes, >sigh< even these moments are special. Why? Because while today I am wistful for the days when my boys were toddlers, and the mere sight of a two-year-old playing with a balloon makes me weep, ten years from now the sight of two fighting teenage brothers will probably have the same effect.

I can't believe how fast it's gone by, I cherish the present, and can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring. I just wish it would go slower.But wait...I started this post with my horse. How did I end up in a blubbering mess about my kids? (And I am a blubbering mess, believe me. It's not pretty. Be glad you're not here right now).It's cyclical, I guess. Maybe that's why clocks are circular. Everything goes, and then comes back around. Your baby horse growing up will remind you of babies in the supermarket that remind you of your kids growing up. You will cry. And then a new baby horse will be born. And it will all start over again.

Keira decided she needed to be born in the middle of a rainstorm at two in the morning. It was simply an amazing thing to behold. Within minutes, she was up and walking, and bonding with her mother. Such a cool thing to see, and we can't wait to see how this year's baby will enter the world.[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bojr6-Zp2MQ]And to all of you moms and moms-to-be out there, cherish each moment, 'cause it goes by fast!

Basketball, Swedish Meatballs and swearing with your father

This weekend one of my projects, besides the continent of laundry that has piled up, is assembling a new portable, adjustable-height basketball hoop. As I unpacked the box and saw all of the little parts, big parts, and list of tools I would need, I thought of my dad.Now, a do-it-yourself type of task around the house, i.e., replacing a kitchen faucet, hooking up the stereo or any kind of "adult assembly required" product which looks so good in the store displayed (fully assembled) under bright lights with a sale sticker, comes packaged in a very large box, its many components neatly styro-foamed, twist-tied and plastic-baggied; well, these projects -- as anyone with a practical, do-it-yourselfer, Italian-American father knows -- require A LOT OF SWEARING. The kind of swearing you usually have to pray about in church the next day.This basketball hoop was going to need some swearing before it got done. And it's more fun when you have someone to help you swear about it. You know, one of you reads the 300 pages of poorly written instructions, the other one misinterprets what you say, you argue about which thingamajiggy goes where, swear some more, at some point the manual gets thrown across the room, that little vein pops out in your dad's forehead (this also applies to Irish fathers), and three hours later you have something which almost resembles the picture on the box, shrug your shoulders, say, "Well, at least it's done," and go have a beer.And in this time your mom/stepmom got all the laundry done, made a whole batch of cookies and cleaned up the kitchen. She's just thankful you kept him out of her hair for the day.Unfortunately, my dad lives a thousand miles away. So in this case, I call him, tell him I need him to help me with the tools and the swearing, and we have a good laugh. Then comes the inevitable question:"What're you having for dinner?"

There's something about moving away from home. Yeah, you miss your family, friends and different places. You talk about the weather. But it always comes back to food.I said, "That's the other reason I was calling about." Midwesterners tend to end sentences with prepositions. We know it's wrong. We're rebels without causes."I've got two pounds of ground beef thawed out, and I have no idea what to make,"I mentioned that I was thinking of meatballs, but not spaghetti-and-meatballs, something different. My stepmom suggested Swedish meatballs, and proceeded to read me the recipe from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook. Meatballs fried in butter with a cream gravy. What's not to like?I looked up the recipe in my Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook, which just happens to be my Grandma's copy, from the late '50's. Funny how they stick that "New" title on every year. So you'll see a twenty year old version at a garage sale, and somehow think it's New? But my "New" cookbook didn't have the same version as my stepmom's "New" cookbook, so I did the next best thing: Google.Thank you, Alton Brown. The meatballs were delicious!http://common.scrippsnetworks.com/common/snap/snap-2.2.2-embed.swf?channelurl=http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/channel/xml/0,,67904-VIDEO,00.xml&channel=67904What food do you miss from back home, and does your family swear as much as mine? (In my dad's defense, his language isn't half as bad as mine!)

Finally, as Jon Stewart says, here is your moment of Zen:

By the time we got the #@%* basketball hoop up, the moon had come out.

Spaghetti-Ah Sauce-Ah

This weekend, I am running away. My wonderful husband gave me an awesome Christmas gift this year - I'm going to Vegas to see CHER!! And no boys allowed, either! Just me and my amazing friend Jeanette. We always have a good time together, and we're both ready for a little reprieve. No laundry, no cooking, no cleaning, no running to Wal-Mart. So while we are rocking out to "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves," you can make something yummy for your tummy. 

The name for this recipe comes from the way my great-grandmother, Nonna Ida (ee-dah), pronounced things - Spaghetti-ah Sauce-ah. She was the quintessential Italian grandmother. Made everything from scratch, gave the most bosom-squishy hugs, loved all of us, and didn't take any crap from anyone. She even did that thing where they throw their slipper at you because they can't get to you fast enough to give you a smack. (She never did that to me, I was of course a little angel who never did anything wrong. Or maybe I was just the right amount of scared of her. I think it was one of my cousins or uncles who got the shoe. If I had to guess, my cousin Michael or Uncle Marc.)

This may not seem like a quick recipe, but it has saved me more time over and over again. And by now, it’s easy for me to make since I’ve done it so often. Once you get everything in the pot, all you have to do is boil some pasta, and that’s it. And I make enough to have leftovers the next day - cook once, eat twice! It’s my family’s favorite.

This recipe has been handed down in my family for generations. We all put our own spin on it, and here's how I make mine:

(I have to apologize in advance for my food photography. Haven't quite figured that one out yet. Besides, I have yucky fluorescent lighting in my kitchen. If you have any photo tips, I'd love to hear them.)

Ingredients:

Olive Oil - Extra virgin, baby.

1 large onion, chopped

3-5 cloves of garlic, peeled, smashed, and chopped

1 carrot, shredded

1 stalk of celery, chopped fine

2 lbs. lean ground beef (you can do half beef and half sausage for richer flavor, or ground turkey or chicken to keep it on the light side. It’s all good.)

1+ Tbsp Italian seasoning

about 1-2 tsp kosher salt (start with 1, then add to taste after all ingredients are together)

fresh ground black pepper

a small dash of cinnamon

1 can tomato paste (I use Contadina or Progresso)

¼ - ½ Cup of red wine

Fresh Basil leaves, if you have them (julienne and throw on top before serving)

2 large cans whole peeled tomatoes, in juice.  This is the secret!  You have to use the whole peeled tomatoes - before adding them to the sauce, chop them (not too chunky, not too thin) in the blender, food processor, or right in the can if you have a stick blender. If using a blender or processor, drain the tomatoes first, but save the juice.  The whole tomatoes make the sauce taste FRESH.  Make sure the canned tomatoes are packed in juice, not in tomato puree; puree will make it thicker, but the taste is not as fresh.  

So, get a good, heavy pot and heat it over med-high heat, just a couple of minutes.  Add Olive oil.  (If it smokes, the pan is too hot and you will burn the garlic.  We do not want to burn the garlic!  Take the pan off the heat so it will cool)  Throw in your onion, carrot, and celery, and saute for a few minutes, then add the garlic.  You can add a pinch of the salt here to loosen up the veggies.  When they are translucent, add the meat, and let it brown.  When the meat is almost done, add the spices.  Rub the dry Italian seasoning together in your palms as you add it; this will bring out the aroma.  The cinnamon should just be a tiny shake. Half a pinch, at most.  It flavors the meat, but you don't want it to taste like cinnamon, got it?  Okay, when the meat is brown, turn down the heat just a notch, and add the tomato paste.  

Stir it into the meat, and mix it all up.  After a couple of minutes, it will go from a reddish color to a brownish color.  This is when you add the wine.  Ahhhh! It smells so good!  Stir it up (little darling), and scrape the bottom of the pan.  It will deglaze the pan, and cut the acid of the tomatoes.  Then add the tomatoes with their juices.  Let it simmer about 20-30 minutes.  You can leave it on low while dinner is being served, in case anyone wants seconds.  Make sure you pour a glass of wine for yourself, to taste while the sauce is simmering.  This is very important. ;)

If you have a rind of Parmeggiano-Reggiano in the fridge that's all used up, you can throw that in the pot while it's simmering.  Also, at the very end, if you have any fresh basil, tear that up and throw that in, too, if you like it, or, simply, on each serving.  If you like mushrooms, save a bit of the onion, and saute the mushrooms with the onion in a separate pan, and add to the sauce with the tomatoes.  Otherwise they will get all broken up when you are stirring the meat. 

This is my basic sauce for everything from spaghetti to lasagne.  I always use Barilla pasta.  Cheap stuff gets too starchy and gummy.  Make sure you put plenty of salt in the pasta water, otherwise the pasta is too bland.  Stir the pasta right after you put in in the water, so it won't stick together when cooking.

We always put butter on the hot pasta after it's done. 

This, like I said, is a family recipe, but it's taken me 19 years to perfect it.  I'm sure it will get changed many many times more on its journey, and I hope the hungry souls trying it out along the way will rub their bellies in warm satisfaction.  Let me know how your family likes it!

Mangia!

(Eat-Ah!)

PS For a yummy garlic bread, get a fresh crusty loaf, and cut it in half lengthwise.  Take half a stick of soft butter, and mix in some fresh garlic, smashed as much as you can, and chopped.  (smashing it releases the juices)  Spread this on the open faces of the cut loaf, sprinkle with a bit of parmesan cheese & chopped parsley.  Put in 400〫oven about 10-15 min til it starts to brown around the edges.  Yum! 

Cher loves Spaghetti.

I was born in the wagon of a travelin' show

My mama used to danceCOOK SPAGHETTI for the money they'd throw

Papa would do whatever he could

Preach a little gospel

Sell a couple bottles of Doctor GoodSPAGHETTI SAUCE

Gypsies, tramps and thieves

We'd hear it from the people of the town

They'd call us gypsies, tramps and thieves

But every night all the men would come around

And lay their money downEAT OUR SPAGHETTI

Picked up a boy just south of Mobile

Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal OF SPAGHETTI

I was sixteen, he was twenty-one

Rode with us to Memphis

And papa woulda shot him if he knew what he'd done (HE ATE ALL THE SPAGHETTI!!)

Have a good weekend!

With love,

Heidi

P.S. for Cher fans: check out my movie review of Burlesque.