The Saddle Sore-ority

"Age is a box people put you in. And, no good ever comes from living life like that." ~ K. Miller

This is Pam. My new mentor. 73 years old and the happiest cowgirl I've ever met! She rode farther, faster and held up better on our 5-day trail ride than me. We'd be well-served to follow her lead.

I survived my dream vacation! The Caballos del Sol 5-day trail ride, in northern Arizona. I've never been so cold, so tired, so sore... or, so happy. The Doc said not to go but what does he know? Releasing my inner cowgirl was good medicine!

Me and Meg. My beloved little mare had the time of her life. (Me, too!)
PS: This cowgirl get-up was NOT my idea.

During this long, grey winter I felt a little 'stuck.' Nothing working quite right. Illness. Boredom. As we inch ever closer to the 5th decade, I find myself surrounded by age-obsessed people. Turning 50. So very old. (Seriously?)

And, of course, that rubbed off on me. Even the bright blossoms of a re-blooming Orchid was hard-pressed to boost my spirits.

New friends, Nancy and Larry. Cowpokes extraordinaire.

But then I went on vacation with the horse. Met people, most older than me, who give new meaning to a life well-lived.

Which got me wondering why such things matter. What is age anyway? Other than one slightly inaccurate measure of all we've done and all the grand things left to do.

If we didn't know our real age, then I s'pose we'd guess our age at how old we feel. Like Pam (top photo) who, in many ways, is considerably younger than me.

More new friends: Earl (the horse,) Dacodah, Janet and Mike. Come September, we're meeting up in New Mexico to do this all over again.

After releasing my inner cowgirl, I'm way younger than I used to be. Way healthier. Happier. And, so tired I can barely type. :D

Coolest. Horse. Ever.

* It was just not possible to ride my bouncy little mare and take pics at that same time. But, I do have some gorgeous wildflower photos to share once I muster up the energy to unpack the camera.

Me, Of Little Faith

Tomorrow, I leave on my dream vacation. Earlier today, I was whining to Betty and the Garden Faerie about how it will most likely be less of a dream and more of a nightmare.

Imagine! A 5 day trail ride in the mountains of northern Arizona.

Away from the snow and the cold... Atop my beloved horse. Trotting through red rock canyons and pristine wilderness...

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

But... what of my butt? 

5 days in a saddle?? 

Do they even make Advil capsules that strong??

And, then there's this.

As my regular readers, oops, reader (Hi, Rod!) knows, I'm still trying to get over iron deficiency anemia. I'm no Energizer Bunny, right now.

Though that's the least of my concerns. I'll just be sitting on my arse. Atop a hard working horsie, hollering ooch, eech, ouch!

* To quote a favorite movie, "I'm '98% excited and 2% scared. Or, maybe it's the other way around."

Wish me luck. :)

Seaside Shenanigans!

Electric pink wild roses bloom ecstatically along the Oregon Coast.

What began on a whim last Thanksgiving is happily turning into an annual Big Life Adventure.

Hydrangea withers to a pretty plum as autumn leaves begin to turn.

Our new tradition is to gather with family and friends for a Thanksgiving feast. And, then...

Hop a plane to Oregon the following morning to burn what we gobbled!

Beach combing with our noble steeds at Bay Ocean, Oregon

Cape Mears Lighthouse is also home to the famous Octopus Tree ~ which I'd love to show you, were it not for the fact that I forgot to take a picture of it.

If you've never been to the Oregon coast may I suggest that you abandon this blog right here and now and go book yourself a flight?

Because my photos can't do justice to the breathtaking scenery and ocean side horsey back rides in this very special place.

Wild roses flourish, protected by driftwood. How they grow so well in beach sand is beyond me...

We shared the sunsets with plentiful pelicans ~ whom we hoped weren't carnivorous. (Let's blame that irrational fear on Alfred Hitchcock.)

Base camp is the historic ~ and hopefully haunted ~ Happy Camp Hideaway Homestead, built in 1906 on Netarts Bay, Oregon. (They've fixed it up a bit since this photo was taken.)

We can thank our own personal vacation planner, M, for this great getaway.

"It takes a long time to grow an old friend."
~ John Leonard

M and her paint pony, Royal.

The Gang
(That's me in the green hat.)

Cowgirl Up!

My friend, Janet, competing with her appaloosa, Phantom.
Yup - she's pointing a pistol at that innocent little balloon. It's called mounted shooting. I don't really get it but then I'm not from around here...

Two weeks ago I made a wild and crazy promise to blog every day this month about the training sessions with my adopted horse, Bella.

Bella's full time job, now, is to fatten herself up for the winter.

That blogging energy lasted all of 5 minutes but I did manage to squeeze in 8 good sessions with Crazy Horse before the weather turned foul and our snowy winter finally arrived.

Megan's little hissy fit.
During my training sessions with Bella, Meg felt sorely neglected.

Why two horses? ~ people ask ~ Isn't one plenty?

Well, if you want to get practical about it I suppose zero is a good round number. Horses are expensive, hard work and... highly addictive. But, there's just something marvelous about these big, gorgeous animals.

Flame is Meg and Bella's BFF.

I tried for 3 years to buy Little Meg but her owner wouldn't sell her. I finally gave up and adopted Bell instead. Two days after I brought Bella home, Meg's owner showed up, handed me the reins and said I don't want Meg anymore.

So, what are you gonna do? I always wanted to be a cowgirl. Now I'm a cowgirl times two.

Kindred Spirits

And the costume winner is... Kelly's horse!
Bond.
James Bond.

A couple of tricks... a few too many treats... and Halloween's fun festivities are over for another year.

Wish 10/31 could always land on a Saturday. That had everyone in the mood for a devilish good time.

So, that's it? The party's over? Not just yet...

If you have an ounce of energy left after this very fun weekend, here's a yummy way to make use of those pumpkins...

Pumpkin Bread Recipe

• 1.5 cups flour
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1 cup pumpkin purée
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup water
• 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp. allspice
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Combine flour, salt, sugar and baking soda. Separately, combine pumpkin purée, oil, eggs, 1/4 cup water, and spices. Stir all ingredients together. Last but not least, stir in those yummy walnuts. Bake in a bread pan at 350 for about an hour.
* This recipe makes a tasty mini-muffin, too.

Gingersnap and Tater Salad Tips

We celebrated 4th of July on the 2nd. This town did fireworks on the 3rd. By last night when most parties were in full swing, I was so weary of the festivities I got on my bike and took a peddle down the old ranch road.

Past one of the last 'real' farm houses left around here. One that somehow resisted the temptation to sell off, to be torn down and re-built as ~ yet another ~ big, fancy mansion. (If that ever does happen I doubt it would occur to the contractor to save this magnificent rose bush ~ much less the cool, old fence.)

Straw Flowers (aka Bachelor Buttons) are a great quick fix for wild areas. This is their second summer.

Holiday highlights were few. I managed to screw up the potato salad. Which is kind of the shock of the world. An embarrassing moment for self AND country seeing as how I'm [allegedly] 100% Irish.

Meet Gingersnap. I don't know his real name. But I bike over to see him every evening. It's the highlight of my day.

If you're not Irish then perhaps you're not a tater aficionado. So, let me help you out here. Red potatoes have lots of moisture in them. Russet potatoes do not. Russets roast up crisp, golden brown and dry...

I think he's starting to recognize me but he keeps his distance.

What does all that have to do with great potato salad? If you want to make a name for yourself, with respect to potato salad... you don't boil those taters, you bake 'em! Dice 'em, olive oil 'em, sprinkle liberally with crushed rosemary and roast them 'til they're crisp and delicious.

Then go about the rest of your potato salad recipe however you want.

Just don't forget the pickles.

* Roasting red potatoes doesn't work as well because they contain too much moisture.

Dampened Spirits

Quest and Sienna waiting out the storm.

I'm 50% savvy when it comes to text messaging:

I can read 'em! Have not, as yet, mastered the patience to respond.

Of course, there's no real reason to respond. It's pretty much a statement of fact that plans to saddle up the horses were, once again, rained out.

This was going to be a major horsey weekend! 'Twas the Strawberry Endurance Ride and K had volunteered to coordinate the camping.

Now, when I think of camping, I drag out my ratty, old tent. When K decides to camp she - get this! - rents a 2 bedroom RV! So I was all excited about roughing it.

Endurance is a distance horseback riding competition, generally 50 miles per day. With a happy little Equestrian Massage tent conveniently located at the finish line!

But then the rains came (again) to foil our plans and dampen our spirits. I don't know why I thought they wouldn't. It has rained incessantly for so long I hardly remember the beauty of this high plains desert.
Monsoon (grey horse, not the weather) has logged 3,000 miles in endurance competitions. And, it's interesting... I've ridden him and he barely moves on the trail. Unless he's competing, he thinks trail rides are a yawn.

And the winner is........
Best
Rain
Coat!

Disco Fever & The Prancing Ponies

Micro mini roses are blooming in the sunny window.
(The only non-weird thing to happen this week. )

"You can learn a lot from becoming discombobulated." - Next Door Neighbor

Tell me about it! Every plan I had this week was foiled in one way or another ~ through false promises, high winds, double bookings...

We made a valiant attempt to do Friday Afternoon (hiking) Club on Wednesday. But we sought out a new trail on the advice of someone who is clearly in good athletic condition.

Listen to me, now, because this is very important.If you need a new hiking trail ask a fat person. They'll be looking out for you every step of the way.

Never ask an athlete. [I don't know what we were thinking!] Athletes will send you to the steepest trail imaginable just to meddle with your self-esteem. Once we saw this new, steep trail, we bagged the whole idea and went for a long lunch.

That lunch was running neck and neck as highlight to my weird week. That is, until I discovered what the horses do on Thursday afternoons.

My riding lesson, like everything else, was rescheduled again and again and again. Until finally I just decided to drive down there to see if Tina would show me some love.

The place was pretty much abandoned. As we warmed up in the arena, J turned on some music. That theme from the Rocky movie. Full blast. Instantly the horses broke into a canter, joyfully galloping to the beat of that song. Then, we trotted to Abba [Dancing Queen!] Next up, Sister Sledge.

I didn't know horses love music! Admittedly they have terrible taste in music but still ~ how cool is that!?

I had no idea what I was doing but horse, Tina, didn't exactly need my guidance. She's big into the boogie. Who knew disco dancing would finally be our breakthrough?

* Yeah, yeah. I'm sure we looked utterly ridiculous but who cares? If you'd like to see how this is done by a pro, watch this amazing video. At the end, when he hugs her? I usually cry. [Tears of joy.]

Spooky Meg & the Snowman Tribe

I haven't a clue what this is all about. Though it involved a film crew and a whole gaggle of snowmen makers.

This week's Friday Afternoon Club was canceled due to me perfecting the art of procrastination. I did that so well I had to stay home Friday to catch up on work.

For a little while, anyway. Until I was saved by that proverbial bell.

As in the ringing of the telephone and the downright giddy voice on the other end of it proclaiming: THE SNOW HAS MELTED!

Not completely but enough so we could go for a ride.

Oh, I have missed my girl.

Ms. Megan has whiled away the winter doing what horses do best ~ lounging in the pasture, growing fat and sassy. Forgetting all about me and saddles and the fun we had last summer.

Horses are particularly spooky in the springtime. Everything scares them because it takes a little while to re-engage the brain. So, we tread very carefully on that first ride after a long winter. We go slow, choose her most familiar trail. Hope we don't encounter a loose dog or anything out of the ordinary.

Like... 200 snowmen???
And, that's when we bolted for the barn.

1 of Life's Little Lessons

Wednesdays are rapidly becoming my favorite day of the week. That's the day I drive down the mountain, to the lower valley, to learn some new tricks.

Self-help gurus always tell you to dive headfirst into something brand new in order to escape your deep blue funk. I can't stand self-help gurus! Why take advice from someone who has things all figured out? That's so rare it's suspect, if you ask me.

I dislike advice givers for the same reason I cringe at those [alleged] self-made millionaires in the infomercials. They all claim You, Too! can be rich ~ if you'd simply mail them a check for $29.95. (Whoa. If you've got so much money, why do you need mine?)

But, I digress...

This is Tina!

She's kind of a bad ass.

And infinitely more stubborn than I am.

We have a battle of wills every Wednesday afternoon. Sometimes I come out on top. Most days she trots off feeling quite superior.

I drove down there yesterday, hoping for good moods and a good lesson. I don't really need riding lessons, I'm a pretty good rider. But I've learned that with any extreme sport... skiing, horses, life, love... it only gets dangerous when you get sloppy.

When I got down there, I instantly knew something was wrong. The horses were fighting in the corral. They were kicking each other at the hitching post. They were all mad as hatters and that's when my trainer mentioned the mares are in heat.

I had to laugh. It suddenly dawned on me that we all have moods. Highs and lows, ups and downs. And, if we don't, well then it's probably because we stopped breathing.

PS: What do you do when a 1,200 pound girl starts to PMS? Get out of her way.

The Corn Picking Moon

The Corn Picking Moon (named by Native American tribes) is often the brightest full moon of the year.

Farmers call it the Harvest Moon because it's almost like a second daylight, allowing them to work well into the night, harvesting crops.

Harvest Corn Side Dish Recipe
(My Grandma used to make this.)

• 18 oz. sweet corn
  
• 1.5 cups shredded Swiss cheese
• 6 oz. skim milk
• 1.5 cups minced onion
• 1.5 cups seasoned bread crumbs
• 1 beaten egg
• 1 Tbsp. melted butter
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Stir together: corn, egg, milk, onion, salt, pepper and 1/2 cup Swiss cheese. Place in a shallow baking dish. Create a topping with the melted butter and bread crumbs. Sprinkle on top of the casserole. Cover with the remaining Swiss cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes.