CHAUCER COMES TO VISIT

CHAUCER IN THE FIELD

Sometimes you just never know where life is going to take you. You walk around a corner and things change in ways you would never suspect.

This morning, at 5 AM, when John went out to let the horses out of their paddock and into the pasture, there was a horse in the yard. It wasn't one of our horses. It was a big, handsome gelding bigger than Lucky (who's 15 hands 3 inches).

I knew something was up when he came flying in the door so fast after going out. Early morning time is very important to him. This time of year it's sometimes the only time of day he gets to see the horses. He usually stays out to "be" with them, just leaning on the fence or standing with them while they eat some hay. But this morning he hit the door only moments after he'd gone out.

I was up and pulling boots and a sweater on before he got to the bedroom. My heart was in my throat. I was afraid it was something bad!

" Honey! (pant, pant, pant) Honey!"  (This was driving me nuts. Just say it! Take a breath, relax, and tell me the bad news.) "Honey...there's a horse in the yard, outside the fence."  Whew. No big deal. Apache, gate master, has been at it again. "NO, I mean that it's ANOTHER horse, a big horse, not our horse!"  ??

Another horse? Oh my. This was going to be interesting. I know all of the neighbor's horses. They sometimes get out and come to visit. I wonder who it is this time?

I walked down to the barn with John and, sure enough, there was a big horse standing there contentedly eating from a pile of hay that John had put out for him. (A + John!) He was a big dark bay gelding, about 16 hands and some inches, stout and in his long winter coat. He turned and, very politely, walked to me and touched my hand! Oh my. I loved him already.

His eyes were very calm and soft and he was just plain happy to be here! Lots of contented sighing going on. When he came to me, he stood very patiently while I ran my hands over his great thick neck and down his back. No tension at all in this big guy. But when I picked up some skin to see if he was dehydrated, he definitely was. The skin didn't spring back the way it should. It stayed up for much too long. He needed water!

John acted as the bucket person. He filled it and held it while the big horse drank...and drank...and drank. Then he went back and filled it again. And, again, the horse drank and drank. He ended up drinking more than two buckets full. Later in the morning I filled another bucket for him and he drank again.

I stood there for a while with him playing FRIENDLY game with him. What lovely eyes he had. When I turned and walked through the gate, he followed. It was that easy. He knew he was safe and was content to stay a while.

I could tell he'd been here most of the night. There were piles of frozen poop everywhere in the yard. He and my herd had already settled their differences on their own. Dominance issues were determined without us, thank you very much! They turned and walked out into the pasture in a line...Lucky, Apache, Willow and our visitor coming up behind. It was funny to watch because he was, by far, the biggest physically. But Lucky was still in charge. They all seemed to be happy with the arrangement, so I didn't interfere. And everyone was thoroughly exposed to each other, so whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. It was done before we came onto the scene.

I've spent the day calling Vet's offices, calling neighbors and calling the Sheriff's department. They sent out two very nice officers, one of them a country 'boy', so he knew what to do. And then they took off up and down the road to knock on doors, trying to find the people he might belong to.

John had gone on to work, but before he went he named our gelding visitor. His barn name, at least with us, is Chaucer. Suited him too. He's a big stout fellow with a stolid air of mystery. Sounds like a "Chaucer" to me! While the officers were out hunting down neighbors, I called my farrier to see if he was in the area. He was! He came by and gave Chaucer a trim for me. Chaucer's hooves were in terriblE condition...way too long. He was tripping and obviously very uncomfortable.

He stood very nicely for us while the farrier did his job. And when he walked off, he was noticeably lighter on his feet. In the meantime one of the officers called and told me he may have found the owner! Turns out Chaucer lives up the road a mile or so from us. The lady who owned him was very surprised that his hooves had been trimmed. She'd been trying to rasp them (I did not see any evidence of that, but maybe she was embarrassed so she told me that?). I smiled and told her it was no problem at all and sent them on down the road.

Lucky and Apache were distraught that part of their herd was leaving. Bonding had happened that quickly! They cried and so did Chaucer (who's real name was Beau). Later I heard from one of the neighbors that the fences at Chaucer's home were in terrible condition. I'm not going to be surprised if he comes back for another visit. If he walked out once (and there were no scrapes or wounds, so I think he did walk out), he'll do it again.

The best part of the day was standing there while I made my calls and watching the four of them interact with each other. All Lucky had to do to direct his herd was to lift his head and flick an ear. Apache wasn't as subtle. He wanted to play! He'd put pressure on zone two, then on zone three and off they'd go, especially once Chaucer's hooves were trimmed up. My little Kahuna had big old galumpy Chaucer moving all over that field.

Willow had to go up to Chaucer just once and bite him in the chest and that was it. He recognized the lead mare, even if she is only 34 inches high and weighs just 250 pounds! Attitude...it's all in the attitude. #1 ATTITUDE, 7 KEYS TO SUCCESS , Pat Parelli. Now I know that's supposed to describe the horseman, but in this case it described the horses.

I am ever yours, Nancy, smiling at the weird days too!

POCKET WATCH, COOKIES, AND GRANDPA

My Grandpa carried a pocket watch. Like most farmers, he ran his day by it. He kept it in his vest pocket, hooked with a gold chain. Whenever he flipped it open, I knew something was going to happen.

" I think it's time we had a tree, don't you? Let's go see if we can get those lazy horses up and cracking. We'll need help with this."  And then he smiled at me. He was going to take me with him!

I watched while he got the harnesses ready. They hadn't been used in a while, so all the leathers needed to be checked. I know they were well cleaned and oiled because I was the one who did that. It was a job I took seriously, even though I didn't know how they were used. I'd never seen Penny and Sun hooked to the wagon before.

I climbed up on the hay bales and brushed them, first Penny and then Sun. They stood quietly, patiently for me. This was old hat to them. They'd spent their lives pulling that wagon. Sun kept turning to nudge me here, push me there. "You missed a place. I itch here." She was excited! We were going out to work.

It took a while to get things done. The wagon was dusty and the harnesses needed to be checked one more time, and then adjusted. Time is different when you're little. There is no past, no future. You're in the "now" all the time, so everything is intense, and new. I can still close my eyes and remember how the bells sounded, the creaking of the leathers and the quiet sniffling and occasional snorts and sighs coming from the horses. They were as anxious to go as I was.

At last it was time! Grandpa swung me up onto the bench seat next to him and out we went, through the barn doors, into the sunshine...just me and my Grandpa and our horses. I was on top and everything was perfect! Every time they took a step, the bells on the harness rang in a rhythm, matching their time. I was feeling pretty important, up there on that bench.

We had a saw and some ropes with us, stowed away in the back of the wagon. And under the seat were some old blankets in case it got cold. Cold? Never occurred to me. Grandpa had told me to keep an eye out for the perfect tree. I was too focused to be cold. It was my first tree ever, the first one that I got to pick. I was going to take home the prettiest tree that anyone had ever seen!

That day spreads out in my memory, going on forever. It probably didn't. Penny and Sun were very old by that time. Grandpa would never keep them out too long. They were retired and his friends. I run it through my mind every Christmas, though, when we go out to find our own tree.

This year, for the first time, we bought a tree. We've done such a good job of clearing all the fields around here during the past nine years that there are no more cedars small enough to cut! And now it isn't permissible to cut on the neighbor's land. Used to be most everyone was happy to have the cedars removed from their fields. They're a weed tree in Kansas. People aren't as easy about having you on their land to help by taking a tree as they once were.

This morning, though, while I was outside doing chores and spending time with my herd, I did find a treasure to add to our store bought tree. It's a tiny nest made of hair from Lucky, Apache and Willow! It had blown out of a tree or from under an eave during the big winds that we've had the past few days. It's like a jewel, it's so well made. Lucky's red hair and Apache's black hair make up the outside of the nest. Willows soft, woolly grey hair is on the inside, put there to keep the babies warm.

I showed it to Lucky when they came in for grain. He sniffed at it and was indifferent. It wasn't grain or carrots. Apache picked it up and flipped his head up and down, then dropped it. It wasn't a tool to steel and hide. Willow curled her upper lip in a flehmen. It was interesting, but only for a moment. It was grain time and she's as serious about her tiny bit of breakfast as Lucky is about his! So it was official. The wind had brought a gift to me!

When we went out to get my very first tree more than fifty years ago, one of the things we took with us were a package of cookies my Grandma had made. They were Grandpa's favorite cookies were made with molasses and ginger. I'm going to give that recipe to you, as my gift. He loved them with his coffee. " Perfect for dunking!", is what he told me. I make them every Christmas and hear bells in the harnesses when I eat them. If you listen, you might hear them too along with the sounds of two horses pulling a wagon, all those years ago.

 GRANDPA'S MOLASSES CUT OUT COOKIES

1. Soften and mix together :  1/3 cup real butter, 1/3 cup brown sugar, 1 brown country egg, 2/3 cup molasses.  It should make a nice, gooey, brown mixture.

2. Sift together and stir in : 2 3/4 cups unbleached flour, 1 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp sea salt, 2 tsps cinnamon, 1 or 2 tsps ground ginger (I like two tsps of ginger. So did Grandpa. ) Mix just until it's a nice dough, but not too much.

3. After chilling the dough (nice because you can make it the day ahead of time), Roll out the dough about 1/8th to 1/4 inches thick (thin is better!) and cut with cookie cutters. This is going to make about 5 dozen cookies, so do it in stages. Keeping the dough cold is a good idea. It gets sticky as it warms up. Place the shapes about 1 inch apart on a lightly greased cookie sheet.

4. Cook at 375 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Cool and ice if you want to. I like them plain with tea or hot chocolate.

I always gave Penny and Sun one of these cookies too. They didn't dunk them, but they did love to eat them!

I am ever yours, Nancy, smiling and remembering

ENERGY AND THE REAL SECRET

Energy. It's a funny thing. I've watched videos on youtube showing the effect that words have on something as simple as a drop of water. Dr. Masaru Emoto did his experiment using water that is frozen and filmed at the moment the word is uttered. Then he repeated the idea using rice, growing it in a controlled atmosphere, again showing the effects that violent language as opposed to language promoting peace, love and kindness have on a living entity.

It's an old experiment dating back to the sixties, showing the effect that the word "love" has on growing plants. When I repeated that experiment for a class when in college, I was amazed at what a little love and attention had on a plant. The plant that was neglected (all I did was water it and give it exactly the same growing conditions, fertilizer and soil) was half the size of the other, it changed my approach to everything I did. The impact was that profound for me!

I'll never be perfect. No one is. That's part of being human...learning, practicing, making mistakes and trying to relearn again. I do try to keep that idea in my mind when I'm with people. It's better to give them positive feedback, positive attention, positive emotions than it is to castigate and criticize. If I can't keep it on the plus side, I do my best to politely walk away. One of my favorite quotes from Pat Parelli is "Don't walk the extra mile for someone going in the opposite direction." I decided to interpret that as "Smile and walk away, politely."

When I'm with Lucky, it's even more obvious when I'm not using my energy in a positive way. He lets me know when I'm being unclear in my requests, when I've forgotten to be polite and passive in the proper position, or when I'm not being honest with myself or with him about how I feel that day.

Both of my horses are extremely sensitive, as are all horses. They've survived for millineum by being hyper aware of what the other horses in their herd are saying with their bodies, and what Predators are doing. They know when to turn and run in a nano second, and they do without questioning it because the herd survives as a group, not as a collection of individuals who question each other. " Oh yeah? Who says that lion is hungry? he could just be stretching or something." Wouldn't be any survivors in a herd like that one in very short order. They are masters at interpretation of the finest details in their environment. Run first...question later.

Lucky and Apache have allowed me to become their alpha mare. It's something I never take lightly. I identify so clearly and deeply with this that I've even begun to have dreams where I walk with them and, as we move together, I lean over on to all fours and become a grey mare. It feels so natural for me that, when I wake up, I'm sometimes surprised that I'm in a human barn and I'm wearing a human body! Sounds wacky doodle, I know. But that's the way it's been this year for me.

Something has happened to my ability to work/play with Lucky. Sometimes, when I'm in 'the zone', I think what I want to do with him and HE DOES IT! And when I'm deeply in to my 'zone', where time has taken on that strange liquid feel, he knows what's going to happen before what happens happens. And SO DO I! For me it's better than dancing, better than painting, even better than chocolate. Describing it in words is inadequate. It's become a kind of spiritual quest for me.

I don't always hit that 'zone', but when I do it's magic! It centers me like nothing else I do.

Yesterday, when a friend of mine and her two sons came for a holiday visit, I took them outside with me when it was time to being my herd in from OUTSIDE. (for those of you who are only just finding my BLOG, OUTSIDE is when I put up a rope to keep them away from the road and let them outside the fences, into the hay fields. They love it! So much room to run, so little time to do it. And, of course, the grass is always greener on the outside of the fence!)

She hadn't been out for a while, so getting her reaction to the new level of communication and trust between Lucky, Apache, Willow and I was informative, not to mention the strokes to my ego. They were at the back of our long fifteen acres hay field, so far that you could only just see their backs because they were standing on the down side of the hill. They always know when I'm there. I know they can hear and see me. But I didn't do anything except whistle my three note tune to them once.

Heads came up, ears turned towards me and KAWANG!... in they came at a canter which became a race. The energy coming across that field towards us was awesome! It was a full out "WOO HOO!". They were, all three, galloping before they'd crossed half of that field. I stood and waited, "YEE HAWING!" with them because I know how much they're having. I love watching them stretch out and let out all the stops.

Lucky always wins. He's longer and taller and has this amazing power coming from behind. He zigged just before he got to me, doing this beautiful flying lead change from his left to his right lead. Oh my! Gorgeous. Lucky skidded to a stop long enough to touch my hand, then gaited into his paddock and up to his feed station, tossing his head with his mane flying.

Apache was next. He's like a locomotive. He puts that head down and GOES, pushing from behind. He gets so exuberant, though, that he usually starts bucking and jumping for the shear joy of it. UP AND DOWN, UP AND DOWN like he's on a giant pogo stick. Sometimes he does what he did yesterday. He slides to a stop right in front of me, about ten feet away and then jumps up and down over and over. Then he prances over to me, neck arched, and says "SO THERE! He's fast but I can jump!" and then into his stall he goes, turning to look out at me while waiting for his grain and carrots.

Last but never least is Willow. Donkeys are different physically. When they run, because of where the head connects to the neck and the neck to the body, they run with their head up and, in Willow's case, her head just a bit to the side. She did a buck and fart too. She never jumps up without coming down with a "TOOT!" It's so undignified...and so Willow. She always makes me laugh. She slows herself down by running in a circle, bucking and farting. I totally love having her! She is so much fun. And she's even funnier when she does her buck and fart circle because she's having a temper tantrum! Wish all tantrums were that easy to handle.

I turned to tell my friend's kids where the buckets of grain were, and there they were, all three, standing in a row with their jaws dropped. It was, I think, the first time they'd had a chance to see what happens when your relationship becomes "Parelli" 100%. To most horse people (and other's for that matter), it verges on the miraculous. Horses are usually evasive when their humans enter the environment. And they certainly don't have a race to see who gets to their person first!

Now I'm going to give you the real secret to cooking and baking. Put LOVE into everything you do, the same way you put your heart into your hands when you're with the horse you love...or the dog, child, lover, friend, whomever you're with. Really think about it. Wish them happiness, peace and success. LOVE THEM while you cook.

If you think about what a simple word can do to a drop of water, think about what your LOVE can do to the meal, or muffins or cookies you're baking! Profound, don't you think?

I am, ever yours, Nancy...smiling (and now you know why I always sign like that. I'm sending my story to you with LOVE)

Keep it positive. Keep it natural! (Love it when any of the Parelli staff signs like that!)

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM...

They say the third time is the charm. I'm hoping that's so. I've tried to post on the previous two days and lost both stories and sets of photos...very frustrating.

Last Saturday, in Lawrence, we had the Horse Parade. It's the largest parade of it's kind on the country...all horses all the time. There were more than ninety different kinds of buggies, carts and wagons and more Outriders than I could count. And most people were in costume too.

The parade started with the Color Guard from Fort Riley. We had a chance to stop and talk to them at the Park they were stationed in. Their saddles are all authentic, right down to the last detail. So are their uniforms.

We saw beautiful Frisians, Paints, Shires, Shetlands, Quarter Horses, Belgians, Mules, Donkeys. You name it, they were there.

There was even a Doc's buggy with the beleaguered, exhausted Doc "asleep" in his buggy while the horse took him home.

There was a Chuck Wagon with all the pans rattling on the sides (and the horses never batted an eye either!) and a restored Wells Fargo Stage Coach.

And then there were the Buffalo Soldiers riding side by side and singing gospel and marching songs. We met them last year. Their rigs are authentic too. And their uniforms are even made out of real lindsey woolly fabrics.

That palomino horse and the buckskin were both very calm and even tempered geldings. They both wanted to know if I had cookies. They knew which pocket I usually carry them in.

The Shires with their sparkle fringe on were real crowd pleasers. All the little girls "Ooooohhhed and aaahhhhed!" over them. Their rigs were perfect too...shiney and well oiled. And the bells they wore sounded the way a Hallmark card always looks! They moved together in a very nice rhythm, soft and easy down the street.

Standing in front of us were three little girls, all about five or six years old. They were the perfect age for that certain kind of life long love affair to start. And they were with their

Dad's too! I stood there and listened to them giggle while they ate their cotton candy (pink, of course!). They were a sticky mess by the end of the parade. Each of those Daddies, one by one, carefully washed off their daughter's faces using their fingers and some spit...a time honored method.

They, very seriously, discussed what kind of horse they were going to get for Christmas. One of them chose the Mini Donkey that went by, gamely pulling a cart all by itself with a rather large person in it.

They all start out at the Fairgrounds, so the parade is actually about fifteen miles long by the time they circle back to the starting point.

The weather was perfect for it too... cold, crisp without a wind. There were hot chocolate vender's up and down the street selling their "hot chocolate water" (it's never made with milk anymore, mores the pity). John and I bought some. It smelled great and was very nice to hold, keeping hands warm. The only thing good about it to drink were the gooey little marshmallows. I drank it anyway.

It's a tradition.

Most of the bigger wagons had side walkers or riders. I was glad to see that. The horses were much calmer with their people and pasture buddies around them.

The best part of the parade for me, though, is the sounds. I love the sound of hooves clopping down a street. Massachusetts Street is no longer cobbled the way it used to be when I was a girl, but some of the crosswalks are. So, just for brief moments, I could hear the sounds

from a century ago, when all you saw were horses and carriages and wagons in downtown Lawrence.

I managed to get a shot of one of the cowboys as he rode down the street on his nice, little Quarter Horse talking on his cell phone! Sort of ruined the image, but it cracked me up too. He was one of the "real deal" cowboys who came in from their ranches to ride in their day to day gear. I didn't much care for the tie down he had on his horse though.

Some of the wagons were all gussied up with ribbons and greenery, bells

and sparkles on the horses. I saw a few horses that shouldn't have been in the parade too. They weren't ready for an environment like that, with thousands of predators staring at them. They were buggy eyed and hot wired with fear. And I can't say their riders were handling that well either. The ones I saw were angry, which makes their horse think they need to be afraid. Scary loops they were caught up in, and most of it was human ego driven too.

But, all in all, it was a wonderful parade. The people watching it were as much fin to watch as the folks participating. Horses are such an important part of our history and, I think, people are hungry for that connection still even if it's only for a brief hour at a parade.

In honor of the day, I'm going to share my Grandma's shortbread cookies. They're over the top indulgent Christmas cookies made with entirely too much butter...most excellent with tea or hot chocolate (not the made with water kind!).

GRANDMA'S THUMBPRINT COOKIES

1. Heat your oven to 375 degrees. Have an ungreased cookie sheet ready and some cooling racks. If you have a half coyote/half dog living with you, don't go off and leave these to cool for even a few minutes unattended. You'll come back to a spotless counter and a happy coyote...no cookies, crumbs or anything at all except a cookie sheet on the floor.

2. Mix together thoroughly a stick of real butter (1/2 cup), a 1/4 cup brown sugar, a dash of sea salt, the egg yolk from a farm egg (save the white) and a tsp of vanilla (only the real stuff please).

3. Sift together and stir in 1 cup unbleached flour. It's going to make a nice, short cake kind of dough.

4. Roll into balls about the size of a small walnut and dip into your saved egg white that's been slightly beaten, and then roll in either shopped walnuts or pecans. I like walnuts better for this recipe.

5. Place about 1 inch apart on cookie sheets, and bake for five minutes. Remove from oven (I just pull the shelf out) and quickly press your thumb gently on the top of each cookie (use a spoon if you're worried about getting burned. There's an art to doing this with your thumb without hurting yourself.) and return to oven to bake for about eight minutes more.

6. Cool on racks and put a dab of your favorite jelly in the depression when they're cooled. You can really spruce these up if you want to with tiny edible silver balls on top of the jelly, or bits of maracino cherries, tiny bits of mint leaves, chopped candied ginger, whatever suits your fancy and whim of the day.

It's only going to make about two dozen cookies. I don't make more than that because I like to make them right before I serve them for a fancy tea. You could make more though. I'd use some parchment or wax paper in between the layers when you store them or put them in a Christmas box or plate for a gift.

Enjoy! You'll love the way these smell when you're cooking them, and they're extra nice when the weather is cold and your appetite is up.

I am, ever yours, Nancy... hoping this post will publish successfully

SWEET POTATOES AND PACKAGES

Remember what it was like on Christmas morning when you were a kid? It was overwhelming for me. I'd get so excited the night before that I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat and when the cousins were over for the holiday, I couldn't stop talking either.

The Mom's had to post sentries outside the bedroom doors to keep us in bed until morning, at least until we all collapsed from exhaustion. I was nearly always the last to sleep. The anticipation was wonderful and terrible.

I'd toss and turn, talk to my dog about what I thought I was going to get because I was absolutely sure I'd been good enough to get everything I'd asked for, and then I'd toss and turn some more.
Well, today my new Paintshop Photo Pro program arrived in the mail. There weren't any wrappings to take off...no bows to save. But I still feel like a kid in a candy shop with deep pockets and all the time in the world to choose what I want.

I'm still learning how to upload photos and how that works on this BLOG site, so there's a random feel to how they're being used tonight. This doesn't tell a story the way I'll want it to. For now I'm sampling and playing. Sort of like I did with Lucky and Apache today.

Yesterday a friend of mine, another Parelli student further along on her journey than I am on mine, found my Blog entry. In it I'd complained about being thoroughly stuck smack dab in the middles.

She reminded me that there are five zones, seven games, and any number of patterns . Then she said "Keep it light and try something new that you haven't done before. "

I thought about that suggestion for a while. How do I take what we've done before and make it different? Where do I begin? And how do I sustain it?

No place like the beginning.

I sent Lucky out of the barn doors and asked him to wait for me, using my twenty too foot rope. And I played with him from much further out on the line. I tried to stay at least fifteen feet away from him. We weren't pretty together. But oh, the conversations we had!

He'd turn and flick his ears at me, more concentrated than I've seen him in quite a while. " Like this? Again? How about the other way?" He kept trying to come in, so I'd let him but only for a brief moment. Then out I'd send him with a new request. " Let's go sideways to the next tree."

We got tangled in our ropes...it was much harder to keep our focus from that far away. I tripped and laughed. He came to me to see what was going on. He's just as pretty from the ground when I'm laid out flat with the giggles as he is when he's standing in the sunlight and it makes that gorgeous line across the topline of his back.

In short ... WE HAD A BLAST! All I had to do was change the perspective by changing the distance. By the end of our session both of us had our energy up and our ears forward. Maybe I"m beginning to get the hang of this? We shall see. At any rate, when we finished today he was still licking and chewing when I took his halter off and gave him his massage. The deep sigh he gave me as we finished said it all.

You can see from the photos that it was one of those "many and varied" kinds of days. My favorite kind of weather too with crisp, clear air and clean blue skies.

I thought I'd give my "kind of random, whatever you have in the fridge" sandwich recipe to match the feeling of the day. It isn't really a recipe. Just something I made up to go with the creative juice I'd just shared with Lucky this morning. I'll give it to you the way I made it. John loved it and had me make him another one, so I guess it must have passed the test.


NANCY'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART SANDWICH RECIPE, to be served with creative juice and random laughter :

1. Start with the best rye bread you can find. We bought ours at a local bakery, where they bake the bread in a wood fired stove.

2. Assemble : Left over baked sweet potatoes, peeled and cut in to thin slices ...thinly sliced red onion ...thinly sliced yellow summer squash ...slivered red pepper ...slivered green

pepper and shitake mushrooms.

Heat your favorite iron skillet at medium high and pour a tablespoon or two of olive oil in to it. Stir the vegies in it until lightly browned and flavor with soy sauce and diced candied ginger.

While that's browning, turn your other skillet to the same heat and spread your two slices of bread with mayo on both pieces. Add some chow chow pickle relish on one side.

3. Carefully pat the vegies on top of the relish side and gently press the

other piece of bread on top. Spread real butter on it and put it in to the hot skillet to brown, buttering the other side as it lightly browns. Turn it over and let that side brown. If you want to, add a bit of freshly grated sea salt...but not too much...on the outside of the sandwich.

I served it with Brazilian Lemonade. That's a mix of coconut milk (about 1/4 cup) and limeade (about 3/4 cup) mixed well.

Your sandwich will be a bit messy, with things coming out the sides. That's OK. Hold it over the plate while you eat it and then eat all the fallen out parts with your fingers, licking them afterwards. Sandwiches are supposed to be finger food!

I am ever yours, Nancy, smiling again.

(The new photo program has a thinify setting and settings for painting out wrinkles and blemishes. don't be surprised if I miraculously begin to grow younger before your very eyes! *huge grin here* )

STUCK IN THE MIDDLES

Yesterday and today I had John film me working with Lucky. Tonight I sat down to watch the videos and realized, watching them, that I'm boring my horse to death. He's very nearly fed up with me. I've done it. I've gotten stuck in the middle.

I've watched and watched the videos. I've done simulations with John, practiced with the equipment and I've even earned my dues in the volunteer and dirty work department, going to and working at nine barns. And tonight I watched my horse turn off right in front of me. I'm stuck.

Things being the way they are economically, I'm going to have to figure this problem out by myself. I can't afford any clinics or instructors. It's a little bit scary out here by myself. I'm hoping the new Connect through the Savvy Club is going to help me with this. But right now I can't load any pictures because of the computer breakdown and fix that the 'geek' guys did on it. Most of my programs are gone, including the one I used for my photos.

I am so stuck! I promised I wouldn't be one of those "stuck in the middle" people, but here I am. It's like walking through the gooey mud at the edge of the pond, the kind that sucks your boots right off your feet and when you pull your feet out, they get stuck too!

I'm working hard at not doing the pity party thing here. I'm not good at that sort of thing. I can tell you that teaching this to yourself is no easy task. It's harder than putting myself through college with two babies to take care of. At least then I was young enough to still feel like I could do anything.

I have this dream in my head. I want so much to do well for Lucky...and for me. We've gone through a lot together over the past five years. He's as invested in me as I am in him. Today he turned away from me, spent more time on the frozen weeds along the arena edge than paying attention to me. He even bucked and tried to pull out of my hands. I don't know how to stop, how to fix it or how to go forward from here. I'M STUCK!

I'm not necessarily doing things wrong. I'm just boring him to tears. He kept giving me these looks like " Gee whiz. Do I have to do THAT again? This totally sucks." It was that kind of bored teenager look.

I'm a believing kind of person when I think I've found a true expert as a teacher. I watch Pat and Linda Parelli with their horses and it takes my breath away. I watch some of the student auditions on youtube...and it takes my breath away. Tonight I watched myself with Lucky and I had to agree with Lucky. I'm boring. Problem is, I have no idea of how to be "provocative". I don't know where the balance is between too hard and not hard enough. And I don't want to damage the relationship or his dignity, but we can't keep on like we are right now either.

I feel like I'm caught in a loop, going round and round the same part, like a mobius strip. It's like being in one of those Escher drawings, actually I think it's an etching. I'm talking about the one where you see people going up and down these impossible stair cases, around and around in this surreal world where upside down is right side up. I'm that stuck and confused about where to go or how to get over this horrible middle. For the first time, I'm seriously thinking about quitting.

I can't though. I can't give my horses over in to the hands of someone who doesn't try as hard as I do or who only sees them as a hobby, something interesting to entertain themselves with. That would be hell for them. And I'm not a quitter. But that still doesn't solve my problem of being stuck.

I wish I had someone to talk to.

I am, ever yours, Nancy...not smiling much this evening, but still trying

PS. Sorry. No recipes tonight. I don't eat when I feel bad. I loose my appetite. Hard to think about food right now.

A DANCING NORWEGIAN AND COCOA

Remember going to dances with your girl friends in High School? I do. I'd spend hours on my hair, choosing my outfit and jewelry, putting on what makeup I was allowed to wear. They'd come by to pick me up and off we'd go as a troop, there to support each other. Going to a dance by myself would have been torture. Going with friends along, well...there's no way I would have gone by myself. Too many predators to face on my own.

But it was different once we got inside. Up on a stage there would be one of those forever the same school rock bands playing Louie Louie. The lights were turned down low and there were BOYS. Oh the agony and the ecstasy. They'd shuffle around, looking bored and nervous, trying not to stare. And we'd do the same, supposedly there together. But when it came to someone walking in your direction, you were on your own. It was wonderful! Time would stretch out while he walked in your direction, looking at you and no one else. Then he would trip on his own feet because he was as young as you and just as nervous. The game was a foot...the courting game... and we were all players then.

If you were lucky, the guy who came to ask you to dance was pretty good at moving too. There was one I still remember. He was a tall, good looking Norwegian farm kid who's name was Dave. During the day, at school, he was my good buddy. I helped him with his homework and he gave me rides to school and watched my back for me. I was one of the new kids, so a target for the bullies. He befriended me the first day when he backed two of them off for me. He was tall, kind, funny, intelligent and friendly. He was endlessly polite too...opening doors, carrying books and holding chairs for me. He was never embarrassed by this noticeably "uncool" behavior.

It was Dave who came over to ask me to dance first. Whew....known territory. I could relax and just have a good time with him. Turned out he could dance too. I'd had my eye on a career as a professional dancer, so I was used to being light on my feet and could dance for hours at a time. But who knew that Dave could dance too?! It was wonderful! We were real partners together on the dance floor, moving in sync and lost in time. When I look back on it all these years later, it was probably because we both relaxed and just had fun. Neither one of us had any reason to worry about whether we needed to impress anyone. There was no itinerary.

Sound familiar? We relaxed and took the time it takes to find our rhythm together. And, even though we hadn't danced together before, we clicked and moved in unison, turning in circles, lines, sideways, backwards, forwards like we'd always danced as partners. We "heard" each other and moved as if we anticipated each other's thoughts. My feet followed his feet, matching energy and rhythm.

That's the way it was with Lucky today. With his gamy back leg and my equally gamy lower back, we hadn't really played for four weeks together. When I walked in to his pasture, he turned and saw me with his halter and lead and gaited right to me with a nicker. The sun was out, the wind had stopped and the day was ours!

Sometimes, when the stars line up just right, time becomes irrelevant...ceases to exist. It stretches in to that slow wave like it was when I danced with Dave all those years ago. Lucky heard me and knew where we were going at the lightest touch. He asked questions every step of the way, ears forward and eyes soft. And, oh, the licking and chewing going on. I smiled so much my checks are sore tonight! Both of us lost track of time and we danced. When we came up for air, his halter and lead were off and we were playing with no other reason than just because it was a perfect, cold, sunshiny day made for us to BE together. Today Lucky made the years fall away for me. It doesn't get any better than that!

There's only one way to end a day like that. I'm going to give you the recipe for the perfect cup of cocoa.

COCOA LIKE YOUR MAMA MADE IT

1. You'll need a good sauce pot, a whisk, a wooden spoon, excellent swiss cocoa...the dark kind, whole milk and cream, turbinado or demera sugar, real vanilla, a pinch of sea salt and either marshmallows or real whipped cream.

2. Measure in to the pot a heaping tablespoon of rich, dark cocoa and two tablespoons of sugar for each mug of cocoa plus a tiny pinch of sea salt. Add about 2 tablespoons boiling water per mug and whisk it hard while you slowly heat it up. You want the dry ingredients to melt together but not to caramelize.

3. Add 3/4 cup of whole milk and 1/4 cup of cream per mug being made and continue to whisk. After it's thoroughly mixed, switch over to your wooden spoon and continue to stir. Don't let it boil. You want to heat it slowly until it's creamy and steaming hot, just to a simmer. Add a good teaspoon of vanilla at the very end and give it another whisk to froth it up.

4. Ladle it into warmed mugs and top with either marshmallows or whipped cream. Serve it right away. Sip it and savor it. It's guaranteed to make you feel like you're 5 years old again and just come in from playing in the snow all afternoon. Drinking this cocoa is like having your Mom hug you, only from the inside out.

Enjoy! I'm right there beside you, smiling and remembering my night with a Norwegian .