Pastern Dermatitis in Feathered Horses

Feather is the long hair on draft horses' lower legs, that flows down around their feet. It adds a certain amount of beauty and grace to an animal so large and muscular. To see a draft horse in action is truly breathtaking.  Just look at the popularity of the Budweiser commercials:[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAO0TaBovfY]I've always loved those Clydes! So beautiful and powerful. In fact I was drawn to Siofra because she reminded me of a mini Budweiser horse.But that which gives the draft horse its elegance can also bring trouble. A common problem among feathered horses is pastern dermatitis, known by several names, including mud fever, scratches or greasy heel. Chroi has been suffering with this for a little while, but the symptoms she shows do not look like the examples I've seen. I've tried a few different treatments, and searches on the internet will result in any number of remedies. Most therapies center around treating the condition as a fungus problem. The long hair draws and holds moisture, like a paintbrush. Keeping the feather and skin dry is one of the main cautions you come across when researching the condition. Well, being in the desert, keeping dry is usually not a problem. In fact, the dry air, dust and dirt cause problems for my horses' feather in that it breaks off in the front - you can usually see it in pictures:

So I kind of thought I was spinning my wheels when it came to treating Chroi's dermatitis as fungus. In doing more research, I came across an article written by Dr. Gregory Ferraro at the UC Davis Center for Equine Health, specifically as it applies to draft horses (most other articles are aimed at common "light" horses). The article had some great information in it, but was slightly outdated - I figured there might be new findings, and emailed Dr. Ferraro, on the outside chance that A. He might answer, and B. He'd be able to figure out the problem from an email. I described the scabs on Chroi's lower back legs, and the fact that she constantly itches, bites and rubs them (breaking off more feather - ugh!), and sent him this lovely image:

I was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Ferraro emailed me back, with the suggestion that if Chroi is itching and rubbing so badly, her condition is most likely due to mites. He recommended using Frontline spray to first get rid of the mites, and then tackling the skin condition. Since I am a bit of a freak when it comes to research, and I like to try homeopathic remedies before resorting to toxic chemicals (especially, as I said, she bites at the areas on her legs, and she IS pregnant, so we want to avoid ingesting harmful toxins), I thought I'd see what I could find that would get rid of the mites. I came across a few interesting ideas, and I will let you know what I found that works. Wish me luck! And, if any of you readers out there have had similar problems with your horses and found a great solution, please leave it in the comments section.Thanks!*UPDATE* see how Chroi's doing after the vet's visit. Click here to see her shaved legs: Midweek Mish Mash*UPDATE #2* So, turns out that it was NOT mites. My vet said he'd never seen that type of problem here because it's so dry. The only thing that worked was the fungicidal shampoo that you can only get through the vet. But the good news is that Chroi's feather is growing back nicely and it seems like she feels better - I don't see her biting and scratching like she was before.If you have a horse with this problem, I hope my experience helps you find a solution. Good luck!

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.

My Pretty Ponies

They say curiosity is a sign of intelligence. If that's true, Chroi must be a genius.

She's always got to see what's going on.

Here she's taking advantage of a recently delivered pile of dirt, so she can see over the fence. 

I think she's just as curious as the rest of us as to what the heck the neighbors are doing to their house.

Doesn't everyone have one of those in their neighborhood? The house that no one can explain, and never gets finished?

Climbing down is not quite so graceful for a pregnant lady. Oomph!

You never know what you'll find behind the rakes and shovels...

Keira reminds me of that line in Forrest Gump:

"From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running!"

She runs and trots everywhere.

Sometimes I feel bad that I don't do more with my horses. Shows, parades, just getting out.

But it's nice to get in the round pen. They love the attention. They might not always like what they're asked to do, but they respond well. I think Chroi would look lovely pulling a cart. She has such a flowy, graceful trot. Keira's trot is very springy, prancey-dancey.

She's fancy.

My mom's name is Nancy.

:)

I can't seem to get any good pictures of Keira trotting. As soon as she sees me she stops. It's that singing frog thing again.

I don't seem to have any problem getting shots of them eating, though.

Or of their butts.

Lots of butt shots.

Chroi and Keira have no problem with this angle.

A Gypsy Horse is supposed to have a nice, round rump. It's something to be proud of.

Kind of like Kim Kardashian. 

 

If she were a horse, she'd be a Gypsy. She even does the same pose. Sheesh.

To tell you the truth, I feel happy just watching my horses.

My pretty little horses.

Storm Coverage, Atlanta

As a mid-week treat for you, I thought I'd share this video from Jackson Pearce's blog:

I've been a little obsessed with this snow storm that hit the south this week, and how all those Southerners are handling it. This is exactly the type of story I've been looking for. Enjoy

How to Develop a Website, or, Shameless Self Promotion

 

Heidi: Wouldn't it be awesome if we could do something for work, besides work?

Eileen: Work sucks. We should do something meaningful; some kind of project together. 

Heidi: Yeah, we should. We'd kick ass.

Eileen: How about something with Senior Citizens? Old people are awesome. They've led such great lives, and have so much to teach us, but it all gets lost. Hey, wouldn't it be a cool idea to make a book of people's family memories?

Heidi: Yeah, but that takes too long. Besides, I'm already working on a book. I know, let's make it a blog!

Eileen: What's a blog?

Heidi: (groans) You're kidding, right?

Heidi: So this is what we have to do: Open a Blogger account, and then start the blog. Easy.

Eileen: Yeah, but how do we do that?

Heidi: I don't know, let me do some research...

(buys Google Blogger for Dummies)

(starts reading LOTS of blogs - see list at left)

Heidi: I think I need to experiment with the platform, just to get used to it. I've wanted to start a blog about my horses anyway. Let me play around with it a little.

(CHROI AND ME is born. Posts 1-2 times a month. Learns format, keeps reading other blogs to see what works (pictures, humor) and what doesn't (too many pictures, too much text). Gets a follower (yeah!). Starts posting weekly, talks about it on Facebook, gets 6 followers (Super yeah!). This process takes almost a year of quietly plugging away in my -ha ha- spare time.)

Eileen: Ooh, great picture! Who is that?

Heidi: I don't know. Isn't she awesome? I found it at this site called Stock xchng (by user t. rolf.) Another useful web resource. We'll be able to use photos from there to illustrate people's stories.

Eileen: Cool!

Heidi: Yeah, and we'll have a group on flickr, where photographers can submit photos for us to use as well.

Eileen: Why would they do that?

Heidi: Well, a lot of very talented photographers are just starting out, and need to get their work out there, to be seen. They'll send people to our site, to showcase their work, and we'll link back to their gallery or home page, to direct business back to them.

Eileen: Can we do that with other businesses, too?

Heidi: Of course! It's called a Link Exchange. 

Eileen: Well, I love it.

Heidi: Me too.

Eileen: OK, now that we have our site up, how do we get people to go to it?

Heidi: We just have to start spreading the word. I can ask a few people in my writer's group for stories.

Eileen: We can get business cards, that way we can tell people about it when we're shopping, or at church. Well, when I'm at church anyway.

Heidi: Ha ha, yeah, pray for me, would ya?

Eileen: I already am.

Heidi: You and my mom. Anyways, cards are a good idea. I have a lot of regular customers at the grocery store who are Seniors, and they're pretty cool.

Eileen: I read about a Senior Expo coming up.

Heidi: Great idea! We can network. And we'll have to email everyone we know, and post it on Facebook. We need a Facebook page, too.

Eileen: Great! Now let's make a list of things we need to do.

A List:

• Create a cover letter explaining our mission statement 
• What we're about; how keeping up with technology can help Seniors stay active, and connected to their friends and family
• Connect with other Senior Citizen social networking sites
• Assisted living homes and Senior centers offer computer classes and workshops
• Caregivers can help Seniors stay active in their community
• Offer link and/or banner exchanges or advertising to businesses that cater to Seniors
• Heirloom memories, preserved for everyone
• Enjoy bringing people together by creating a community network
• Inspire discussion, interaction between Seniors and those who care for them and provide an online resource
• Give back, by donating a portion of ad revenue to a (TBD) charity, once SSP is profitable. 

Readers, you are our best resource for getting the word out. Senior Share Project is something we've been working on for awhile. We wanted to take our time with it so it would be something we could present to you with pride. We wholeheartedly believe the fact that our elders are one of our most under-appreciated assets. Senior Share Project is meant to spark discussion, bring generations together and get people to know and appreciate those who came before us. 

You can get started today! 

Next time you see your Favorite Old Person, ask them one simple question:

"What's your story?"

email your stories to: seniorshareproject@gmail.com

and visit the site for more info, or to read a story:

www.seniorshareproject.com

Thanks so much for reading and for your support. Please tell your friends, and send us your stories!

Heidi and Eileen

Next week: back to the horses!

New Year's Resolutions

Let me start by saying I dislike the idea of "Resolutions" for the New Year. I prefer to think of them as goals. A goal is something you strive for, look ahead to, work toward. A resolution just seems more... foreboding. You are resolving to do this. What happens if you don't? Dark clouds form above and lightning strikes your head? Rumpelstiltskin sneaks in and steals your first born? I'm always thinking of consequences. I don't know, maybe I'm a bit of a commitment-phobe.But on the other hand, when you have a goal to work for, the consequence is that you reach your goal.  Unless of course you don't reach your goal, but then nothing happens and your first born stays right where he is.So for me, personally, I like to have a few goals for the new year. Which isn't to say that I'm not inspired by other people's resolutions. A fitting example can be found in the comments of this PW post.Oh, and the Bransfordonians are having at it as well! Read on!My Goals for 2011:

1. Have Chroi and Keira professionally trained. After baby comes, that is! :)
2. Attend a yoga class more often. I recently discovered Yin Yoga*, and it is awesome; think deep stretching. (*if you can't find a Yin Yoga class near you, there is a great DVD available Here.)
3. Post at least once a week to this here blog.
4. Launch my second blog, Senior Share Project: a partnership with my friend Eileen. Check it out! If you have any special Seniors in your life (and you know you do) you'll love it.
5. Write more online articles. Click here to read my review of the movie Burlesque.
6. Get my eldest to college. Ugh, a biggie this year.
7. Get my youngest into a music and/or sports program.

And my biggest personal goal this year (drumroll please):FINISH WRITING MY BOOK!Ok, there it is. Yes, I am writing a book. I have been kind of quiet so far, only a few people know about it. The reason for this, as many writers know, is that once you tell people you are writing a book, then every time you see them, they'll ask you, "Hey, how's that book coming?" "When do I get a copy?" or "Hey, I thought you were writing a book..." And then you have to go through all the excuses as to why you cannot whip said book out of your briefcase and point to their name on the dedication page: "Uh, I'm still working on revisions..." "I've got a few queries out..." "I'm still looking for an agent...know any?"I don't even carry a briefcase.So my excuse is that I am still writing my book. Fifteen chapters and counting. But I am coming out of the writing closet, so to speak, and announcing it to the world (or to you, my four readers) that I AM writing a book, and hopefully my public acknowledgement of this will hold me accountable for the fact that now I have to finish it, that I cannot go another year planning on someday, when my book is finished... No, this is my signal of commitment.I, the commitment-phobe, am offering you the proverbial diamond ring and promising to you that I am going to finish this book, and that one day, after I find the perfect agent for a partner, who will find the perfect editor, and after hours and hours of labor we will give birth to two covers filled with many many pages of gripping adventure, a healthy dose of fantasy, a dash of romance, and a fulfilling conclusion, all wrapped together with a nice neat character arc.

Will you read me?

Not quite ready to say "Yes?" I understand. You don't know enough about this book. You're not ready to commit. What if it's a Vampire-Time-Travel-Alien-Western-Noir, and you're just not into that? Well, to further educate and entice you, my novel-to-be is a low fantasy (set in the real world, with elements of magic) adventure for 12-15 year old readers.The story was inspired by my dear Chroicoragh, during a visit out to the barn on a stormy night. My aforementioned friend, Eileen, always referred to Chroi as a Unicorn, and after a particularly impressive lightning strike during the storm, whose electric energy must have sparked the idea, I looked at Chroi and thought, "Hmm, what if  you really are a Unicorn?"And that's how ideas are born.  Lightning and magic.To even further entice you, here's an excerpt:

RUBY AND THE UNICORNRuby sat up, shrugged off the wool blanket that had protected her from the rain, and brushed damp hair out of her eyes. She looked up at Chroicoragh. Moonlight shone down on the mare, highlighting her silvery mane, and gleamed on her horn.

Her horn.

Standing up to get a closer look, Ruby examined it in awe. About as long as her arm, the horn shimmered with a pearly iridescence. Unable to refrain from touching it, she traced a finger along the smooth surface, which twisted whorl-like to a rapier-sharp point. Beautiful and dangerous, the horn made Ruby regard Chroicoragh with a new reverence. 

...

Chroicoragh looked at the girl, and the blue of her Unicorn eyes was the same blue where water meets sky: endless. Ruby stared back, lost in that horizon. She became transfixed in a vision -- no, more like a hundred visions, flashing past her like the view from a jaunty carousel, spinning around, trying to find faces in the crowd. Flickering shadow, light, shadow. An ancient forest; gossamer wings; a gypsy caravan; a storm at sea. A journey. Many journeys. Danger. 

All at once it hit her. She didn’t know why she knew, but she knew. 

Chroicoragh needed her.

That's just a small tidbit from somewhere in Chapter 10. I hope you like it, and that it will appeal to at least some of you, or someone you know. I will be working on this story, quietly in the background while maintaining my blogs, so hold it in the back of your mind, and I'll keep you posted as to relevant progress.I'll take all the good vibes I can get.

And here's to you and your New Year.

What's in store for you?

My Most Favorite Book of All Time

I hate those questionnaires that ask: "What's your favorite book/movie?"As if.As if I could decide on only ONE. It's like Sophie's Choice. I cannot choose! I cannot choose!But this year at Christmas it finally hit me. I've had this book since I was five:

I still write my name in the front of my books, but back then I was a bit more enthusiastic about dotting my "i"s.My mom used to buy these Whitman Tell-A-Tale books for a quarter at the grocery store, probably just to shut me up so she could get done with her shopping. Moms all over the world are familiar with this tactic, but how many great things like this can you find anymore for (published price) 29 cents?

Scotch tape. I'm sure all book preservationists use it.

Can you see the little mouse curled up under the tree? Definitely not stirring.

I have taken this book out every year on Christmas Eve to read to my kids, and this year was no exception. My oldest son, 17, and my youngest, 13, still sat all the way through, and my husband listened along, too.

The illustrations were done by an artist named Florence Sarah Winship. I have a few more books featuring her artwork, and after a precursory internet search, I can't find any information on her, other than she was born in Indiana and lived in Illinois. But what great detail! I really though that sugarplums must look like This. At least they should, anyway. I looked up real sugarplums online, and they're not nearly as pretty. Not to mention there are images labeled "sugar plum" that have absolutely nothing to do with either sugar or plums....

Aww...the snowman is sleeping. And check out the twisted mustache on Papa.

And her Santa is such a, well, jolly old elf.

I love the Nordic-looking boots with braided trim, and the little bell at the end of his stocking cap.

See the oranges? In Victorian times an orange would have been a special treat, since they would have come a long distance, and shipping freight then wasn't quite as streamlined as it is today. For an excellent example of this, Kirsten Dunst has a great film moment of orange appreciation in Little Women.

Solving the age-old question of "How does he get back up the chimney?"

The old finger-aside-of-the-nose trick.

("It wasn't a pick, it was a scratch!")

Anyone who gets that reference gets a cookie.

It's just such a happy, lovely Christmas tradition.

I hope this book never gets lost or destroyed, and that someday my boys can read it to their children.

Someday.

Far, far in the future.

If you have a favorite holiday book or tradition, I'd love to hear it, in the comments section.

I hope your holiday was happy, and filled with food, family, laughs and love.

Merry Christmas.

Gray Factor in Horses

A lesson in horse color genetics from someone who only understands it a little bit:

This is a picture of Chroicoragh when she was a baby, with her dam in Ireland:

Clononeen Farm

Here she is a little older:

Even older:

Photo by Tami Gramont

And today:

This is where I have to introduce you to two terms: Homozygous and Heterozygous. Homozygous is dominant. If you have a horse that is homozygous for the black gene, that horse's babies will always be black. If the horse is equally homozygous for the Tobiano gene, that horse's babies will also always be black, and spotted. So for a breeder who loves black spotted horses, having a stallion or mare that is homozygous for black tobiano is a premium. Every foal is guaranteed to be spotted and black. Likewise, if a breeder prefers Chestnuts or Palominos, they will want a horse that is homozygous for Red.  There are endless possibilities when it comes to color combination, and unless you have a homozygous horse, you have no idea what the resulting foal will look like. I kind of like it that way. I like surprises.When I first saw Chroicoragh, and a picture of her mom and dad, I had no idea her color would change. As I found out more about blues and grays, I hoped she would keep her beautiful blue blanket. In western terms, her coloring would be called "Blue Sabino," in Gypsy terms, it's called Blue Blagdon. Everyone has a favorite color and pattern. Some love the splotchy pinto patterning that most Gypsy Horses carry, called Tobiano. It can come in any color, but the most common is black. Tobiano is a coat pattern that is carried genetically, as well as coloring.

Lenny is a Heterozygous Black Tobiano

Chroicoragh carries one red gene, and one black gene, and is negative for tobiano. Which means she could have a baby that is either red (Chestnut; Sorrel) or black, and would most likely not have a baby with spots unless she was bred to a stallion who was homozygous for the tobiano gene.Following so far? OK, 'cause now I'm going to throw another one at you: Chroi is also negative for the Agouti gene, which is responsible for the black points you see on Buckskins and Bays. (A great example of the Agouti gene in bays is sweet Siofra, a bay blagdon who had a gorgeous buckskin colt, Arthur.)Chroi's color genes look like this:aa (Agouti - negative);Ee (one black, one red); andto/to (Tobiano - negative)So why is she losing her lovely blanket? The only answer, the wild card: The Gray Gene. The gray gene is responsible for most of the white horses you see. Huh? Yes, what you think is a "white" horse is technically gray. Until a few years ago, you couldn't even test for the gray gene. If you had a white or gray horse, you pretty much had a 50/50 chance of getting a gray foal, but you didn't know if it would be a 100% chance. The kicker is, a gray horse can be born any color. Well, besides purple.I had a little foggy inkling that Chroi might not be a true "Blue" horse - blue horses are technically black, with a lot of white hairs mixed in that gives them the bluish or grayish coloring, but don't necessarily carry the gray gene. These horses will remain blue their entire lives, and not fade.

And when Keira was born jet black, I was so elated! Then she started showing some gray hairs in her coat, and my suspicions were confirmed. For Keira to be going gray, that means Chroi has to be gray. The question is, Homozygous, or Heterozygous? And why does it matter? Well, like I said, everyone has color preferences. Personally, grays have always been my favorite. I went to YMCA camp when I was 13, and my horse for the week was a tall dapple gray named Dapper Dan *sigh* I loved him. And if you've read my essay, you'll know my white/gray partiality has been with me a long time.But some people don't like grays. A gray horse, over time, will fade to white. And white horses have a higher chance of developing melanoma, or skin cancer. Besides, some people just don't like white. (crazy, I know! How could you not like a white horse?)

So I pulled a few hairs from both girls and sent them off to be tested for gray. The results (drumroll please): Both Chroicoragh and Keira are Heterozygous for the gray gene. That means that while it appears that both of them are gray, and will eventually fade to white, they only have a 50% chance of passing it on to their foals. So that's good news.Why? Well, for Chroi, since she is in foal to Lenny, and he carries the same color traits, their next baby (Keira is the first) has a possibility of being Red or Black, with a lower possibility of being spotted. Lenny is Heterozygous for Tobiano, so it's only a 25% chance. But Chroi has a  red half-sister (Desert Jewel Rococco), a non-fading blue half-sister (Desert Jewel Lile), both out of Lloyds, above, and Lenny has thrown quite a few red foals. So it's anyone's guess. There's also a 50% chance that no matter what color the foal is, that it will go gray, like Keira.

Never mind the brown - that's mud :)

The great thing about Keira going gray is that she is going to do it beautifully. Her mane and tail are already well on their way to white, and since her whole body is dark, it will dapple out in a gorgeous splash. She won't go fully white until she is well into her teens, and along the way she will look like a living, breathing Carousel horse.Keira is listed for sale. Please visit her page for details: KeiraHere is a new picture of Keira, showing her pretty dapples:Here are some examples of Gray factor.Another helpful page on equine genetics, brought to my attention by a reader. (Thanks, Sarah!)

Some  other favorite grays (linked to their pages):

Platinum, Vines Gypsy Horse © Michael Vine

The Property, Coates Gypsy Horses, U.K.

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross

To see a fine lady upon a white horse

With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

She shall have music wherever she goes

What about you? What's your favorite color horse?

December, Dandelions.

This morning I looked out my kitchen window, and this was the view that greeted me:

There is something about seeing a Gypsy Horse in your back yard that just puts you in a good mood.

Days are short. I go out to the barn in my pajamas, work clogs, and my husband's hunting jacket. The air is crisp and cool and my feet are cold. I'm grateful for the chill in the air. It's a welcome relief from the long hot summer. It gets so dry and dusty here that sometimes you feel coated in grime, like the layer of dust on everything in the garage has settled onto you, too. On those searing August days, I long for a place where things are damp and green and growing wild.But now that winter is near, the air conditioning is off and we drape ourselves in too-dormant sweaters, thankful for the nip in the air, however slight, and wait for the tourists to show up in their shorts and tank tops, reveling in the "warm" winter.

Chroicoragh and Keira's hair is growing in thick and shaggy. It gives them a nice wooly plump appearance, especially Chroi, in her eighth month of gestation. I talk to her belly when I'm out in the stall, and try to get the baby to kick my hand. Not super fat yet, she is in the stage of the healthy pregnancy glow. And hungry! She chases Keira into her own stall at feeding time so they won't have to share.Most people think that an animal's coat gets thicker in winter due to the change in weather. It actually has to do with the hours of daylight. As the days get shorter, even when the weather is still warm, the winter coat starts to grow in. The length of the day is the biological sign to the horse (bear, caribou, whatever) that winter is nearing, and since it takes a while to grow all that hair, they get a jump start after the summer solstice. That's the longest day of the year. The days following get progressively shorter and shorter in hours of daylight until the winter solstice (which is the shortest day of the year).This phenomenon also effects when an animal will come into estrous. After the winter solstice, when the days start getting longer again, the mare will realize that spring is on the way (even though it's is still cold), and that the coming weather will permit the safe care of her foal -- warm air and plenty of fresh forage, packed with nutrients. So she will start to cycle, producing eggs and just waiting around for some stud to show her a good time...But back to the daylight.

Awww. New babies are so much fun!

A practice that is well known among horse breeders and trainers, but probably unknown to most others, is the use of artificial light to manipulate the onset of estrous. The first time I planned to breed my horses, the vet said to make sure I put the mares "under lights" starting in mid-January. Keeping the horse in a stall at night with the lights on, tricks her body into thinking that the days are getting longer,  and she will start her cycle. The reason for this, in our case anyway, is that a horse's natural time of year to get pregnant and have babies is in the spring, and they will be very young in the nice calm summer months.Well that's all fine and good if your summer months are mild and balmy, but in the desert our summer months are more like the inside of a kiln. We don't like our babies baked, so we tweak our breeding season to the earlier months. Putting a mare under lights in January will prompt her into becoming fertile earlier, thus foaling earlier in the year so the baby will be good and strong by the time the heat hits in June. The gestation cycle for horses is eleven months, so breeding in April gets you a foal by the next March. March is Arizona is gorgeous. (So if you are planning a trip here, and are tempted by the lower "off-season" rates in June-September, skip it. Go to Alaska in the summer. Come to AZ in the winter; you will be so glad you did.)Another reason people put their horse under lights is to keep their coat short and glossy for showing. Show horses don't want to be shaggy, so they spend the nights under lights to get fooled into thinking it's summer, and get to wear jackets to keep warm.

But if the sight of bright yellow dandelions in my yard in December is any kind of a clue, we won't have to worry too much about that. :)I think I felt a kick today.

So you Want to Write a Novel

OK, This is kind of a little mini-post while I'm working on the next real post. I just thought it was too funny not to share with you. This is from Natathan Bransford's blog, for the writers in the crowd:

See you soon.
Heidi

Happy Thanksgiving

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! I was thankful to have pumpkin pie with my coffee this morning for breakfast!

So, in the spirit of keeping things short and sweet like my breakfast, here's a little horse-fail humor for you:

Go here and vote for Keira's Fail pic!

Enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving! Including leftovers, football and board games with your crazy relatives. Give them all hugs, and be thankful.

And Thank YOU for reading my blog!

I'm sending you away.

This is probably anti-productive, but I'm sending you to another blog. Three, actually.

1. The Pioneer Woman

The first is one you've heard me mention here before. I've told you that she has amazing photography, and that she sometimes frustrates me with her rate of production and her perfect blogsmanship, but this is something you really must see, especially if you are an animal lover.
I've also told you how I feel about animal lovers.
Pioneer Woman's latest photography contest includes all 4-legged animals, not just cats & dogs.
Now, I'm a sucker for cats & dogs, but I think they get too much attention. I like variety. This contest does have its share of cats and dogs, but other wonderful creatures get to share the spotlight, too.
And the photography is amazing. Honestly, I wish I had the camera, Photoshop software, and time to learn it all, but I've got plenty on my plate as it is. For now, I'm content to be a visitor to the gallery.
Please take a look:

This might look like a sweet picture of a dog kissing a chick.

Do not be deceived.

That dog is tasting the chick.

2. Into The Hermitage

The second stop on your blog tour today will be to the south of England, in Dartmoor. There you will meet a lovely artist by the name of Rima who draws and paints fantastical folkloric images, and adorns some of her work onto clocks made of sliced wood. I'd like to have one someday. Her paintings, as well as her words and pictures on her blog, are warm and come from the heart.
click picture for a story about this clock:

A peek into Rima's world will just make you feel good. Like when you were a kid and you went to visit your grandma's house, and she gave you a cookie and told you to go outside and play, and you laid on the grass and watched the clouds, and wondered at lilies-of-the-valley, and spiderwebs twinkling with dew, and ripe sun-touched raspberries. And that's all you had to worry about that day.

Her latest post encourages an interesting discussion about this clock, and commissioned pieces. Enjoy your visit.

3. Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog

My friend Ken, a poet, used his usual humor in describing his recent experience at the SCBWI's Arizona conference.

I've never been to any other state's conference, or the huge national affairs held bi-annually - summer in L.A. and winter in New York. I'd like to, in the future. But our little AZ get-together is done very well. Our regional advisor, Michelle Parker-Rock, does a good job of bringing in some top publishing industry pros. We've seen editors from the big houses like Scholastic, Penguin and Harper Collins, as well as smaller imprints who like to focus on something more specific, like First Second. Since our members also include illustrators, we are always sure to have an art director present. It's amazing what they can do, and to find out just what goes into making a book.

My favorite speakers this year were Francesco Sedita, Vice President & publisher at Grosset & Dunlap (Penguin), who gave a fantastic presentation. He spoke how his love for reading throughout his life brought him to where is is today, and about the impact a book - any book - can have on a kid. And Jill Corcoran, a literary agent who seemed to be one of the most down-to-earth, un-snobby people I've ever met at a professional function. She had such great advice on writing query letters, and talked about the whole process of what happens after you get an agent - what you should expect from them, and what you should expect to do when working with one.

Also, Calista Brill, from First Second really made me think twice about graphic novels. With just the right amount of twisted humor, she's the kind of speaker who is so passionate about her field, she gets you excited, too. Even if it's something you never considered. Good thing she's not a drug dealer.

And here is Ken's take on his conference experience. He was lucky enough to be a guest blogger for David L. Harrison!

And, as a tip of my hat to Calista, here is a picture of my Cat kids:

 You're welcome.

And, even though I'm sending you away, please feel free to come back and visit anytime.

Colicky Babies and Rookie Mistakes

Some girls, when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up will say things like: "A Teacher. A Doctor. A Fashion Designer."

Some girls actually loved the dolls they got for Christmas, and knew that when you played house, the proper thing to do was to carry the "baby" around on your shoulder and pat it on the back while you cooked the pretend dinner for your pretend husband. When prompted with their career of choice, these girls would say, "I want to be a Mommy."

I never got those girls. My dolls usually had the one lazy eye and a leg missing, due to being swung around by the foot.

1982 Don't hate me because I'm beautiful

My answer was always "MOVIE STAR," which I thought would be obvious to anyone -- why would you want to be anything else, much less -- a Mommy? Never mind the fact that in reality, becoming a Mommy is much easier to achieve. (Oh, but that's a whole 'nother talk for a whole 'nother day, now isn't it?)

So, when I did get married and yes, become a Mommy much earlier than the rest of my friends, most of them and my family were pretty surprised, but no more so than I. (It's all my husband's fault. He had to be so damned cute and adorable and make me fall in love with him before I got a chance to fill out my employment application for MOVIE STAR. It's a good thing, too, because with me around for competition, Julia Roberts and Jennifer Aniston would have nothing to do all day besides vacuuming and laundry. Those grimalkins** owe me a Thank-You.)

Anywho, when my first son was born, and me not having the aforementioned patting-the-baby-on-the-back experience, I had no idea what was going on when about five weeks into his life, every night at bedtime, he began to scream endlessly at the top of his lungs.

Have you ever held a colicky baby?
Let me rephrase:
Have you ever been horribly sleep deprived, in bad need of a shampoo, sore in all the wrong places from birthing a child and then nursing said child, loved said child so much that your soul hurts, finally rocked sweet, soft, squishy, milk-filled child to sleep, held your breath as you laid child down in the crib, and as soon as you very very quietly click the doorknob into place, adorable tiny baby turns into a living tornado siren?

And then, instead of going to your own bed to luxuriate in slumber pass out from exhaustion, you go right back to baby, softly coo into his ear, pick him up, and begin pacing the floor again, patting on the back saying "Ssh, ssh, it's okay, Mommy's here," while tears roll down your cheeks and you just pray for this baby to get some sleep and stop screaming in your ear?

I feel you.

Seventeen years later, and my colicky baby is now a strapping young man with the world ahead of him. But I was reminded of those hours of floor pacing when my most recent baby, in the form of a 650 pound, year-and a-half-old filly, Keira, colicked this week.

It was a rookie mistake that could have been avoided. How can I still be making rookie mistakes after five years? I don't know.  Maybe, as Red Forman would say, I'm just a dumbass.

In Arizona, where our ground is very dry and rocky, it's a good idea to feed your horses from some type of feeder/container so they are not eating right off the ground and eating a certain amount of dirt.

There's the over-the-fence half barrel feeder, which is quite popular, since it forces the horse to pull the hay through metal bars, which makes them eat slower (or at least that's the idea) and keeps the food off the ground.

Or there's the huge bathtub-type bucket (or various styles of trough-type feeders) that allows the horse to hang its head in a more natural grazing position, but still keeping the hay off the ground.

These are wonderful, sensible options. Unless you have horses like mine who knock their feeders around so much, banging them against the fence (and believe me we tried wiring the feeders to the fence to avoid this. Wire breaks. Plastic tears.) And then they proceed to use their big horsey noses to shove all of the hay out of the feeders anyway so that they can snuffle it around with their noses, crunch it up with their hooves, and eat it off the rocky ground.

So feeders don't really work with my girls. I did finally get a load of wood grindings for their stalls, to provide better bedding, maybe help their feather grow in without breaking off so much (another side effect of the dirt - it's horrible on feather), and I figured it would be better to eat hay off of a nice layer of wood grindings, rather than dirt.

But those pesky tasty alfalfa leaves get down into the layers of wood, and prehensile horse lips love to dig around for the very. last. bit. of. green. they can find. Down to the rocky soil.

In which case, if you have exhausted all of your options, (check) you should have your horses on a schedule for feeding psyllium, to help get all of that ingested sand out of their gut. Now, by nature of their personalities and/or constitution, some horses will have problems with sand colic, and some will not. Chroi has never had an issue with it, and I've never bothered with feeding psyllium. First mistake. It's called preventive for a reason.

If you've never "had an issue" with cavities, should you just not worry about brushing your teeth? If you've never "had an issue" with your car, should you just not worry about changing your oil?

You get where I'm going here.

By starting and keeping my horses on a preventive regimen, I could have saved poor Keira from suffering with her tummy ache, having her lip twisted in a twitch to distract her from the rectal exam, and a tube shoved up her nose in order to pump a gallon of mineral oil into her gut.

It was at this point in the vet's visit that I mentioned to his assistant that I should have had my camera so I could take a picture. She gave me a weird look and asked, "you want a picture of your horse getting a tube shoved up her nose?" I said sheepishly, "Yeah, for my blog."

I felt kind of bad using my horse's pain for creative spark, but I thought this is exactly why I started this blog. To share my experiences, including all the slip-ups, for those who might be going through the same things, so that you can learn from my mistakes.

I mean, it's not like Keira can scream into my ear when she's not feeling good, and it would be very difficult to carry her around on my shoulder and pat her on the back.

So write it down: PSYLLIUM. One week out of every month, and you will save your horse from suffering. And a vet bill.

Speaking of which, I have to give a shout-out to my vet, Dr. Longworth, and his assistant Rachel. They are my heroes this month. Thank you

**I originally had the word "bitches" here, but I'm not really sure how much I want to offend the few readers I have, so when checking my thesaurus for alternatives, the word "grimalkins" showed up, with the qualifier: archaic.
I had to use it.
I mean, come on.

Guilt, Guilt, Guilt

Do you have an RSS reader? Before I started reading blogs, and then started blogging myself, I had no idea what an RSS reader was. I knew it was something that super computer-tech-savvy people used, and I was familiar with that little icon:

But the more I started reading blogs, and saw the little icon, and especially after I found a blog or two that I wanted to read as soon as a new entry was posted, I decided to find out more about this RSS thing. Then, when I signed up for my Google homepage, and found out about Google Reader, I signed up.
So, basically, what a reader does (and there's a whole bunch available, just look up "RSS Reader"), is compiles all of the new blogs posts from every blog that you subscribe to, and keeps them all in one spot, so you don't have to go all over the place, trying to keep up with everything. It's kind of like email - you can even have a subscription sent to your email inbox. But I get enough email already, so I choose to look at my reader on my homepage.
Here is a picture of my iGoogle homepage:

I have my Art of the Day widget, my Google Reader widget, my Mad Men quote of the day (don't even get me started on Mad Men), and a couple of other things, maps, links to other Google services like Blogger and such, and on my other iGoogle page, I have a widget for a new Calvin & Hobbes comic a day (even though they're old). I love Calvin & Hobbes. Watterson just GETS how some kids' minds work. Probably because he was that kind of kid. Me too.
Anywho, here is a picture of my Google Reader widget:

One of the first blogs I started reading is from a lady in Oklahoma who just happens to be The Queen of All Bloggers, The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. I like Ree's blog for a number of reasons:

• She's very candid, and unassuming, and her humor comes out well in her writing.
• I love to cook, and she has FANTASTIC recipes. Warning: They are mostly laced with butter and bacon fat (but that's what makes them so good).
• Beautiful photography. She also hosts photo contests, and the entries from her readers are just amazing.
• Free giveaways - which incidentally, she funds herself as a thanks for making her blog so successful. I like that. And she gives away nice stuff - ipads, cameras, Fiestaware, Kitchen Aid stand mixers. Yeah.

But here's what I DON'T like about her blog:

• She's an overachiever. Every time I log on to my homepage and see my reader, it's FULL of PW (Pioneer Woman) posts. She must blog ten times a day. P-dub, I love ya and all, but I don't need an update every fifteen minutes. 

But the other drawback to seeing someone else being so prolific - and this is the real crux of the situation here - is that it makes me feel

• GUILT for only blogging one post every couple of weeks. I've never been an overachiever. Not really an underachiever, either, but just kind of pokey. 

I'm also one of those people who decides she needs to do EVERYTHING, so I have a lot to do, and so some things get done not as often as others. So if you only hear from me every so often, it's not because I don't love you (And believe me, I do love you, my one subscriber out there in the ether, whoever you are), it's because I'm doing one or more of the following:

• working
• cooking (and I'm planning on sharing some recipes here soon)
• feeding: kids, husband, horses, dogs, cat or bird
• laundry, my arch-nemesis 
• cleaning
• grocery shopping
• watching Mad Men
• writing
• attending a writer's critique group or function
• reading a book (just finished Mockingjay)
• or reading someone else's blog.

On that last note, I have to give a shout-out to my fellow SCBWI writer-friend, Amy Fellner-Dominy, on her latest blog post. Her first book, which has been bought and is in the stages of production a book must go through before it hits the shelves, just received its cover:

Congratulations, Amy!
Make sure you look for OyMG in spring of 2011.

June, July, August, October

Ok, so yes, I realize I have broken a fundamental rule of blogging; that is to blog regularly and often. And yes, I realize I missed a WHOLE MONTH! I haven't given you a book selection. What have you been reading?!
What's wrong with me?
(Oh -- that's a whole 'nother blog for a whole 'nother day.)

In the meantime, here's what happened in September:
Chroicoragh and Keira started training with Linda Storey-London, a Dressage trainer. She is teaching them to:

• Pay attention to whomever is working with them (I'll have her work on my kids next);
• Start and stop on cue, in a "snappy" fashion (When I say whoa, I mean whoa);
• Offer their feet freely when asked (Chroi has been used to giving me her feet, for grooming, but wasn't happy about it. Now she is more willing); and
• Being more "supple." In dressage:

Its fundamental purpose is to develop, through standardized progressive training methods, a horse's natural athletic ability and willingness to perform, thereby maximizing its potential as a riding horse. At the peak of a dressage horse's gymnastic development, it can smoothly respond to a skilled rider's minimal aids by performing the requested movement while remaining relaxed and appearing effortless. (from Wikipedia)

Linda works so well with the horses, and is exactly what I have needed in a trainer. I'm sure part of my problem has been my own lack of self-confidence when working with them, and Chroi and Keira can tell that I'm not in charge, so they naturally take over. It's a basic behavior, and how they achieve their hierarchy in the herd. That way, the leader takes over, and in a natural setting, protects the herd and maintains order.

No, that's not Chroi. Can you tell I like gray horses?

This very example of herd behavior is sometimes lost on those who are used to seeing horses in a domestic situation, especially a training barn where all the horses have their own stalls, are turned out periodically for exercise, or to work with their riders and trainers. Everything is controlled by the humans, who are then -- for all intents and purposes -- the "herd" leaders. This is the basic principle of working with horses. I mean, a horse can weigh upwards of a thousand pounds. The only way to have any control over it is to assume the position of its leader, and the horse works with you willingly.  Through a process of building trust, the trainer establishes an understanding that he or she is the dominant, or alpha member of the herd, and the horse naturally goes along with it.

That is the basic principle, but it is easier said than done. Especially with a horse that already thinks SHE is the boss. Anyway, it's why I've decided to go with a trainer rather than pull my hair out trying to figure it out for myself.

The Grand Canyon in the distance

BUT one of the cool things we did in September was take another "let's get the heck out of here" weekend trip to the otherlands of our great state. This time we headed up north. Off a side road that thousands of visitors pass daily on their way to the Grand Canyon, we found high desert peace and solitude.

We rode over miles and miles of gravel roads, looking at sage, power lines and cattle. And horses. Ranchers in the area turn their horses out to graze freely, and even though the horses are domesticated, on the range they revert to wild herd behavior. Now, as hunters, we are often privileged to view wild species like elk and antelope in their natural herd setting, but it's just neat to see animals -- like horses --  that you are so used to seeing in a controlled environment, in their more wild state.

Wild-domestic-free-range-horses

At one point on our route, we have to pass through a gate next to a ranch house. There are corrals and feeders, and this is where the cowboys bring in the cattle for round ups, branding, vaccination, castrating, and finally, shipping off to become your next BBQ. Yum.

Anyway, as we pulled up to the gate, I noticed a small herd of horses trotting towards us. They must keep their ears open for the sound of the rancher's truck, and know that it could possibly mean a handful of grain, fresh hay, or some type of break from the dry grasses and sage they normally browse. At the head of the line, the alpha mare led the rest of the group into the corral area, where they expected... something, I don't know what, and I was disappointed not to have anything for them.

It was so interesting to watch them, though. As they trotted toward the gate, a few of them got out of line, and tried to get ahead of her, and she put them back in their place. Once in the corral, they fought with each other for rank, as to who would be where in the space, nipping and nudging, giving little warning kicks.

Have you ever watched a class of first-grade school children waiting in line for the water fountain? Pushing, shoving, giving each other dirty looks, trying to get to the front. It's a lot like that. And it reminded me that I need to be the teacher at the front, not the fourth kid in line with my finger up my nose.

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Medium-rare with sauteed mushrooms in a red-wine reduction sauce, please.