The Scampering Horse

Crossing-guards fascinate me.  Who are these people in the orange vests? Where did they see the job announcement? Why do they do what they do? My second year at college I had a roommate who was a crossing guard.  Jennifer Knudsen. She was a sweet, cute girl. Totally great gig.  She met the kids at the cross-walk a couple of hours every day and made $20 an hour. She was the best crossing guard I have ever seen. Those elementary school kids loved her. Since this time, I have had my share of eccentric...dare I say annoying crossing guards? I dare.  Annoying. Before I had kids in school, I watched them from afar. There was a crossing guard in Las Cruces that would blow her whistle at cars she perceived were going too fast. A whistle. At cars. With their windows rolled up. Also, sometimes her instincts for "speeders" were way off.  Once I had kids in school the interactions have increased intensity, duration, and longevity. This has not been pleasant. There was a cro

This is the day that ended with a fat lip, and breaking into my own house.   Desert. The south-western frontier. This is the Saturday of the Hornbarger Family. It's continuing mission: to explore strange fields,  to keep our children alive in and out of civilization- to boldly go where no Hornbarger has gone before. Ian and I have started taking pictures for other people. It is fun.  Even though we are still learning, it is really satisfying to capture those beautiful moments of people.  It is also fulfilling to do something new together. And it is stressful, as any change in routine can be.  It is adding in one more thing to our schedule, and this weekend we experienced the growing pains. It all started Saturday morning. We were both exhausted.  The night before we had done our first family shoot.  I failed at finding a babysitter, so we took the whole family.  It completely stressed me out. Finding babysitters stresses me out.  Big time. Then, at night when a

Yesterday, I went to a convent. I was so excited the night before I went, I couldn’t fall asleep. Like Christmas Eve.  I’ve never been in a convent before. Except in my imagination, and it was in The Sound of Music .  So...not really.  I don't even know many nuns. There was the one, Sister Desire, and there was a nun on Nacho Libre.  Her favorite color is light tan. I am counting it. Why? I was invited to take pictures for my friend who was taking her vows to become a nun.   Also,  I don’t know if nuns call themselves nuns.  I am calling them nuns. Sister Desire is going to teach at a Catholic all-girls high school in California.  I don’t know a lot about convents. Or Catholicism. Or nuns, the ones I met being also known as Sisters of the Felician Franciscan Order. I’ve been to three or four masses in my life. I kissed a Catholic boy in high school. My background is Mormonism.  We are encouraged to say "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints," b

I've been feeling lousy for 5 days.  That is a long time.  This is unacceptable.  Every parent knows that children do not stop needing things just because we don't feel well. Tummy troubles. My diet has been limited. I've been tired.   Today was the day I decided to cure myself with vegetables, and liquids.  Some people might take medicine.  I'm weird. Some people (my husband) might even call me an evil genius. Taking over the tristate area with a vegetable-inator. How can I torture them?  Vegetables. Ingredients: kale, cabbage, fresh green beans, fresh mushrooms, carrots, zucchini, potato, white beans from a can, tomato sauce, chicken broth. I put it on a stove until the veggies were edible. Then I named it Dinner. I wasn't trying to be an evil genius.  I wasn't even thinking of my family when I made the soup.  That wasn't nice. I was thinking about curing my tummy.  But, since it was all there was, it was what I served them. The husband, the

Three. Moms. I've known one of them the longest. Her name is Lisa. Great name, right? I call this one mom. She is the one who grew me, and raised me on homemade bread and pinto beans.  My mom loves to garden, and she loves to cook.  She has lilies, pansies, red hot-pockers, shasta daisies, roses, and tulips blooming gorgeously in her garden from spring to summer. She cooks the food that makes me feel at home. We both like being outside. Then, there is the mom who kissed, and sent off to school, and tucked my Ian into bed when he was a boy in Mesa, Arizona.  She was the one praying heaven down on him while he served his religious mission in Taiwan, and talks to him every Sunday night. Jeananne. This is Ian's mom. I call her by her first name, Jeananne. She is a lovely woman.  Blond haired, brown eyed.  She listens intently. Loyalty. She is so loyal.  Her time is consumed by taking care of those she loves. She has a passion to travel, and always supports our important family

This is a post about photographs, writing, my friend, and his dog. I recently went to a writing retreat.  It is the first official thing I've done as a writer, besides print business cards.  I had business cards printed. Rounded edges, because that seems classy. They say Evelyn Hornbarger.  Which was a big choice.  I haven't legally changed my name.  Did I want my business cards to say McNeill or Hornbarger? And then underneath my name, they say, "Writer."  Then I have my cell phone number and email address. I haven't shown them to anyone. Ian may have seen them on accident. My friend Robison Wells was the inspiration to my going on the writing retreat. He was in fact, the only person out of 10 that I knew.  He writes books, mostly young adult fiction. We met a long time ago when he was on his mission in New Mexico.  Fun fact.  He served 13 of the total 24 months right in my hometown of Grants, New Mexico.   He was there during the tomato plant years.  Kind of