The Scampering Horse

Cheri, Valerie, LaDawn, Evelyn cute Stefani down front Pretty much my favorite thing in the world from the age of 5 to the age of 13.  "Girl Parties" were invented by my aunt Karina.  She participated in beauty pageants.  As a contestant. Don’t worry, she grew out of it. As I sat in the audience of the Miss Arizona pageant, I couldn't imagine anything more awesome in the world than being in college, dating multiple boys, singing “Stand by Your Man” on stage, and strutting my stuff in a swimming suit for the world to see.  She was one of only a couple contestants that wore a one piece instead of a bikini. She brought some of the glamour home, and when I would visit we would have a Girl Party. I had cousins that lived nearby my Grandma, and Aunt Karina.  We would all gather for the ritual. A Girl Party consisted of getting your fingernails painted, hair curled and styled, make-up applied, and pictures taken in pageant dresses.  Frequently,...

My oldest child is still very little.  She is the oldest of 4 siblings and she is not quite 7 years old.  This past school-year she was in first grade. This is what we look like every day walking home from school. We smile just like this, everyday. The first day of first grade she wore a cream colored shirt that had the word “fiesta” embroidered on the front of it in red.  She wore it because, “School is like a fiesta.” First day of school, fiesta-ing it up. She was a new student at her school that first day. Our family moved ten minutes up the road from a two bedroom apartment into a three bedroom house (+ 2 car garage) and, yes, we feel like we live in a mansion. The move put her into a different elementary school. Julie felt like a new girl.  She was worried about making friends.  With a June birthday, she was one of the younger kids so I was concerned about her making friends, too. After the first few days, it was obvious she was a ...

I was named after Evelyn.  It is a lovely name.  I've always liked it, even when I was little.  Granny Mac was a teacher her whole adult life.  She was a really good teacher, too.  She was one of those teachers who had  students come over to her house after school to help tutor them in reading. She taught me my times tables and paid me for memorizing them when I was in second grade. I was really good at multiplying.  When I went to college she wrote me a check to help cover my costs of books.  It was so appreciated.  She told me to write her letters, but not about boys.  She said that specifically.  So I didn't talk to her about that.  I told her about my teachers, the books I was reading, and the papers I was writing.  I showed her my grades. She was very encouraging in my academic endeavors. Evelyn Smyth McNeill My Grandma Helen was very different. When I was little, she wanted me to sing for her.  She wo...

Not the whole world.  I guess it is just the first world.  The world with access to cameras, and internet, and food.  Any of these three items on their own are perfectly fine.  It is when we feel the need to combine them that we run into some problems. One problem.  The problem being: gross. What was this? Maybe beans if we're being optimistic? Facebook is used to share the best of times and the worst of times.  We feel connected to people as we share our stories, our thoughts, our feelings.  Nothing says “I feel excited” like an emoticon. Nothing says, "My gerbil is dead," like a status update. We also share our passions.  Work, family, new stories, world views, hobbies, projects, pets, health, politics, cats, and...unfortunately, dinner.  Let us discuss the prevalent epidemic of amateur food photography. Nutritious, and? mmm...doesn't look delicious. I'm sure it tastes better than it look...

My nose.  I can smell it. What is “it” you ask?  Exactly. It all started with my first pregnancy, and not in a good way. Many pregnant women experience this same phenomenon.  The smell of meat cooking would instantly turn me off from eating and I was a self-made vegetarian for a few months.  Cooking chicken, or bacon....ewwww. But, my superpower was not just an annoying aversion to smells.  It was also an asset.  “Ian, the noodles smell done.” The NOODLES?  Yes, I can smell when the noodles are done.   Which is awesome. While pondering my smelling experiences a few years back, I flashed back on all the smells that came to me so strongly, just when I needed them to.  The fresh bread baking at the LDS institute building in Las Cruces, at just the right moment.  The sour rag that needed washing that was sitting in the sink.  The unmistakable scent of an overheated laptop resting on the pillow on my lap. ...

I love to create something beautiful.  It gives me the greatest satisfaction in life. When I was first battling depression in college, I wrote poetry, stories, and essays.  I didn’t know I had depression, so I didn’t know I was healing myself.  I wrote about my roommates, about my lost love, about  running, about Marge Simpson.  Beauty can be found everywhere. The greatest paradox is post-partum depression. Beauty and depression.  I have just created the most beautiful thing a person can create, another little person; and, yet the sinking feeling of worthlessness and overwhelming inadequacy to the task accompanies the beauty. So strange.  It feels so unnatural. Can I tell you what I did after my first baby?  Before I knew that beauty healed me? I made hair bows. Isn’t that so simple? My sister-in-law and dear friend Audrey lived an hour away from me in El Paso while her husband was doing his medical residency, so we were...

I recently put some Caramel Turtle Cheesecake ice cream in my freezer. It had some friends waiting to say hi.  Can you guess my favorite brand? My freezer isn't that big. Yet, I do not want to run out of my favorite ice cream. Hoarding runs in my family.  I do not kid. It runs strongest on my fathers’ side. They/we don’t like to talk about it. My father’s mother left two trailers full of stuff when she passed away.  Clothes from when her children were teenagers, broken kitchen electronics, several sewing machines, soap, trash, just stuff.  Lots of it.  Her children inherited the hoarding trait, especially in the form of books.  Books are good, right?  Reading, information, learning, literacy, all good things.  Somehow that was translated into possessing books.  A library full. Not lying. Sitting with dust, cobwebs and mice poo covering those precious books.  My dad hoards too.  He has a building full of stuff....