Christmas Time 2017

I used to live in the Southwest (El Paso, TX, Tucson, AZ, and Alamogordo, NM). I feel like the Southwest is most like "home" to me, even though I've lived all across the country.

But, since I no longer live there, I enjoy having little touches of the Southwest where we now live (eastern Iowa).

I have some chile* pepper lights, some Southwestern ornaments on the tree, and a Southwestern style ladder I'd gotten in Santa Fe way back in 2006.

*(Note, I didn't say "chili" pepper: "chili" is that stew-like meal with meat, sometimes beans, and chili powder spices, along with other ingredients. "Chile" is what you call the actual "chile peppers," such as jalapeño, Serrano, Hatch, habanero, etc.)

Anyway, I always like the glow of the chile pepper lights that I wrapped around my Santa Fe ladder.

I'm sitting in the kitchen with Jock and a cup of coffee, enjoying the Christmas lights and the Christmas tree, before the rest of the family gets up.

Three of My Winter Essentials

The past few days, Liv and I have had an icy walk to and from school. Even though I've salted my driveway and the sidewalk in front of our house, the city has sanded the streets, and the school has salted their walkways, there are still icy spots that are unavoidable.

Especially at the corner where Liv and I (as well as lots of other students) cross. This particular corner's at a somewhat low area where water naturally pools. So when we have weather just warm enough to start melting ice and snow, water pools at this corner. Then it gets below freezing, and that (seemingly giant) pool of water freezes up like an ice skating rink. It makes crossing the street a bit hazardous. We don't want to slip and fall, especially since it's at the corner - I'm always worried that either Liv or I (or another kid) will slip into oncoming traffic.

That got me to thinking about the winter weather gear that I'm glad I have.

Quite a few years ago - it must've been when I was in college and was home visiting at Christmastime - my brother Joe and I were at our local mall. He didn't have a car/ride and wanted to head to the mall to pick up some gifts; I was more than willing to go with him. I liked spending time with my brothers, and if that meant taking one of them to the mall, I was all for it.

Well, we'd walked past one of those kiosks that sells all those toasty warm shearling products. I tried on a pair of mittens and said I loved them and would have to come back another time to get them. (I don't remember why I wasn't going to get them right then.) As we walked along and Joe made a purchase for our youngest brother, Alex, and maybe another purchase for somebody else, he decided he had to go the the men's room.

Right.

He came back grinning, and I somehow noticed that he was hiding attempting to hide an extra bag among the other bags he already had. He ended up saying something like, "If you were to get those mittens you liked, you would pick the small ones and not the mediums, right?"

"Yep."

"Good."

Fast forward to Christmas day.

He'd gotten me those mittens. And I still have them, as evidenced by the photo above. They are SO WARM.

I'd used them a LOT (except for skiing/sledding, because I'd go with mittens that are a bit more water repellant), and they went with me wherever I moved - although when I was stationed in Tucson, AZ, they remained in a box of winter weather gear (like my snow parka and winter boots).

When Andrew and I ended up being stationed in Boston, and I knew I'd need these mittens at some point, I actually couldn't find them! They were lost! So Andrew, upon finding a similar pair at a similar kiosk at our "new" local mall, bought me a new pair.

The original mittens that Joe had gotten me were in that winter weather gear box and it had been temporarily lost on our household goods' journey between Tucson and the Boston area. I was glad the box finally showed up, though unfortunately, another couple boxes were lost for good.

Anyway, these mittens are perfect for those low wind-chill days when I'm walking Livie to and from school!

My other favorite winter gear invention: YakTrax.

These are things you put on your shoes that help you maintain traction as you walk on icy or otherwise slick paths, kinda like tire chains for tires. A few years ago, I'd bought a pair of the "walking" variety. They're thick rubber "webs" with metal coils that go on the bottoms of your shoes. They really help reduce all the sliding around you do on icy surfaces.

That's my very poor, poor quality photo of what they look like. (Yes, it's gunky out there with the sand and the salt and the gunk.) You can see a better pic of one here.

I actually meant to wear these one morning when I ran outside while visiting my parents over the holdiays (treadmills get boring FAST in the wintertime). But I hadn't realized that Andrew had brought them inside; I thought they were in my car. So when I got to the trail head, they weren't there. But I went running anyway, and slipped on a nasty patch of ice, wrenching my right foot and aggravating the just-about-completely healed tendonitis. I took a couple weeks off, and that morphed into a couple more weeks off and. . . well, I need to get back to running. I'm just about out of the habit.

Anyway, my third favorite winter thing?

My peppermint mug. Usually used for coffee, and occasionally for hot chocolate. I use it mostly in the winter, because it seems like it's a wintery themed mug, right?

Anybody else have winter gear you just can't live without?

Monsoon Season, Tucson

Just reminiscing a bit more about Tucson . . . here are a couple photos taken during monsoon season when the clouds had moved in, promising rain.

If I remember correctly, I'd been at the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum when I'd taken these photos, circa 2000 (with a visiting friend whom I knew from college) or maybe 2001 (when Andrew had come out to visit).

(These were taken with one of those disposable cameras - with film - and, of course, not "translating" very well when scanned.)

Another Photo Trip Back Home

While I enjoy taking photos while I'm out and about here in Iowa, I figured I'd take another trip (via photo) back "home" to the Southwest.

I say "home," because my maternal grandparents spent just about their whole lives in the Southwest, namely in El Paso, TX. My mom and her brothers were raised in El Paso. I spent the first three or so years of my life in El Paso. After my parents and I moved away, I still took many, many trips back to the Southwest to visit my grandparents regularly. I've even got a number of family members who still live in the area. Plus, I was stationed in the Southwest on two different occasions during the years I spent in the Air Force (in Tucson, AZ, and Alamogordo, NM).

Even when I was stationed elsewhere, I found myself in the Southwest, either for work or more often, on vacation.

So basically, the Southwest like home to me - my first home, my original home. (Chicago - or Arlington Heights, more specifically, is my "home of record" for the military, because that's where I'd been living when I'd gone on active duty . . . but that's a whole 'nother story.)

Anyway, when Andrew and I were stationed in Massachusetts for four years, we found ourselves in Las Vegas, NV for a week-long conference for work (October 2004). After we'd wrapped up on the last day, we had a bit of time for sightseeing; we took the opportunity to go to the Hoover Dam, a nice day-trip distance from the sensory overload known as Vegas (which I really enjoy, by the way). Not only was the Hoover Dam impressive on its own merits, the scenery to and from the Hoover Dam was spectacular!

So here are a few photos I thought I'd share. The quality isn't the best - I'd used one of those single-use "disposable" cameras (with film in it); anyway, their quality declined even further after I'd uploaded the photos and had them transferred from one online storage site to another. (The negatives, sadly, were lost/ruined in my numerous moves from one part of the country to another.)

(Again, you can click on each photo for a somewhat larger view.)

The reservoir, on one side.

The river, on the other side.

Andrew's looking down that dizzying downward distance.

Arizona Memories

I was thinking about and missing living in Tucson, AZ recently (and feeling that familiar, old saudade again). So I looked through some old photos and decided to share a couple. (I'm pretty sure I haven't shared either of these two before.)

These were both taken in the wintertime. I think they were on different days, yet both days happened to both be unusually cloudy (or partly so); Tucson has, probably, close to 300 days of sunshine per year. 

These were taken in either late January or early February 2000, when I'd gone out to explore the beautiful scenery in the relative "coolness" of winter.

I love the saguaro cactus "sentries" in the first photo.

Saguaro National Park, western

Near Sabino Canyon

So truly an "Under the Desert Sky" post today.

The First 10th.

Andrew and I have two anniversaries. Today is our "First" 10th anniversary. Our "first" anniversary of the calendar year is the anniversary of our Justice of the Peace ceremony, which took place in Fayetteville, NC on June 21, 2002. (Click here to read about the actual day, which I'd blogged about last year on our "First" Ninth.)

The condensed version is as follows.

We were both active duty in the Air Force. As of January 2002, we were planning on getting married in December 2002.

But I was stationed in Tucson, AZ. He was stationed in Fayetteville, NC. I was expecting orders for a new assignment by the end of Summer 2002. He wasn't going to get orders for another couple years (maybe 3). Well, in order for us to be stationed at the same place at the same time, we couldn't be simply engaged, we had to be married.

Hence, the Justice of the Peace ceremony, which took place June 21, 2002, just in time for them to cut orders for BOTH of us at the same Air Force base, at the same time.

The Justice of the Peace ceremony was small, informal, and included a few of the guys from Andrew's office. Meanwhile, plans for the church wedding in December in Chicago were continuing to keep me, my mom, and the wedding planner busy.

(Our "Second" 10th anniversary - celebrating the church wedding - is December 14th, 2012, in case you're wondering. But I'm sure I'll blog about it when the time comes.)

Anyway, knowing Andrew was busy and probably hadn't planned anything to commemorate our first decade, I decided not to do anything big. I figured we'd keep this one small, like the original ceremony was 10 years ago.

Here's what I did. Yesterday, Livie and I went to the open art studio at The Dreaming Bear, here in town. Partly it was something fun to do inside (in AC!!!) on a hot summer day. But partly, I wanted to do something other than getting a boring ol' anniversary card. Because it IS the 10th anniversary, after all!! Right?

So Livie worked on her own art project (painting a wooden horse cutout).

And so I picked out a small, white stretched canvas (something like this, but about 4"x6"). Then I painted the base color (sort of turquoise-like) and then the letters and dots, and then it got glittered-up. Just to be cute.

Like I said, it's just something cute that we could hang somewhere in the house. I'm not good at painting letters freehand, so don't expect anything Degas-like, or something like that.

Better than a card, because I made it myself. Plus it was fun to make. However, I won't quit my day job anytime soon. (Or I'll stick to photography as my art medium!)

Reminiscing a Bit More

While I'm still on break, I've been working on a photo project. So, in looking through a bunch of my old photos, I found a few cool ones from Arizona and New Mexico I thought I'd share.

I'm at the Saguaro National Park in Tucson, circa late summer 2000. I would've gotten a little closer to a saguaro, if I hadn't been worried about an encounter with a rattlesnake off the main trail.

Do you see the javelina right in the middle? I saw it at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson, circa late summer 2000. Can you believe how close it is?

This was a storm rolling in, as seen from our back yard in Alamogordo, NM, circa early spring 2007. Lots of thunder and lightning, but not as much rain as I'd expected.

And this one of White Sands outside of Alamogordo - yes, I've posted this one before, but I'm posting it again today in honor of New Mexico's 100th birthday!

Reviewing Fun Times

So now that I'm on break and don't start classes (for grad school) again until mid-January, I've been working on a project that's been on hold during the fall semester.

Since I've been looking through old photo albums, I'm coming across photos I'd forgotten I have.

Ready to go on a "trip" to two very different parts of the country?!

I thought I'd go ahead and share a few from November 2001 and December 2002 from two locations I love: the Southwest, and Chicago.

These first few photos are from Tucson, AZ from November 2001. I was still active duty in the Air Force, and stationed in Tucson. Andrew, also active duty, but stationed in North Carolina, had come out to visit to celebrate a few occasions: my birthday, my promotion, and to be my date for the Air Force's Birthday Ball.

While he was out visiting, we'd hiked to Seven Falls (which I posted a photo of the other day), and visited the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum, which is one of the coolest museums I've ever been to - if you ever get a chance to spend time in Tucson, you need to plan on spending a couple hours there.

This is from the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum. We're on a bridge over a dry wash. Below us are a couple javelinas, scratching themselves against each other. The one in the front is facing to the right, and the one in the back (hard to see - you can see its hind legs underneath the front one's face) is facing left.

Again, at the museum . . . I got Andrew to smile for a photo. He'd never been so close to a cactus before, and thought they were pretty cool. However, he made me nervous because he kept kidding around about touching one; I got worried he'd actually touch one by mistake. 

 This one is from the Saguaro National Park area, just west of Tucson. It's a beautiful place to visit and get your fill (of viewing, only) of saguaros!

These next few photos are from Chicago in December 2002 (when Andrew and I had our church wedding).

This one was taken a couple nights before the wedding (and about two weeks before Christmas). Andrew had never been to Chicago before, so we were taking a walking tour through the city, beautifully lit for Christmas. (I'd been using one of those disposable cameras, so the photo quality is not great - I guess it proves "you get what you pay for"?) The Chicago river is behind him.

This one was taken from one of our hotel windows, the day after the wedding. I remember thinking as I fell asleep in this room, that the muted city sounds from way below were soothing.

A view from another one of our hotel windows. I thought this was a particularly cool view. 

A Few Lost "Treasures" from the Southwest

I was looking through some photos (looking for one or two in particular) and I came across these three photos that I'd completely forgotten about.

These first two were from when I lived in Tucson, AZ (2000-2002).

I was out and about somewhere, and realized I probably didn't have enough any saguaro photos.

I always thought that orange plant looked cool. Not sure what it's called, by the way.

 This was at Seven Falls (after we'd gotten some good rain) - this was a nice day hike I liked taking every so often. I think I took this photo when Andrew and I hiked there, once.

(I think I've posted this photo before . . . but it's been a while since I've looked at it, and it's cool, so I'm posting it again!)

This was Liv's first Christmas (in New Mexico). I always thought her "bed head" was funny when she was a baby - it always got all spiked up like that in the back.

Just thinking about Cotton

On Cinco de Mayo, 2001, Cotton (an Appendix Quarter Horse, registered name: Wild Stride) came to live with me in Tucson. (Okay, he actually lived at the stable down the street, but you know what I mean.)

Wild Stride (aka Cotton), May 2001

My friend (we'll call her Renee) had allowed me to lease him from her, as I'd wanted needed a horse to ride. Since she had two other horses that kept her occupied, she wanted to send him to me, wanting someone she trusted to ride/train him.

Well, Renee and I looked at our calenders and decided that May 5th - Cinco de Mayo - would be a good day for her to trailer Cotton down to Tucson from northern Nevada. Cinco de Mayo landed on a Saturday that year.

See, we had to schedule it on a Saturday, so I wouldn't be at work.

Let me tell you . . . that Saturday was the longest day, having to wait for them to get there! I remember waiting at the stable, having gotten there just before dusk and hearing music, laughter, and lots of chatter from a Mexican cantina down the road. I wondered how many margaritas, Coronas, and nachos were being consumed at that cantina as I waited for Cotton, Renee, and her mom to arrive.

The next thing I knew, it was dark and a cool breeze was finally blowing.

And then a set of headlights pulled into the driveway . . . a truck and two-horse trailer. It was them!

Renee and her mom got out of the truck and I went over and hugged them. We opened the back of the trailer and backed Cotton out. He snorted and danced as we led him around, letting him stretch his legs.

It was kinda late (sometime after 8 PM, I think), when they arrived. After we'd gotten Cotton settled in his stall, we headed back to my apartment, getting there around 9 or so. So it was too late to go out for Mexican food - they were beat after driving all day. I think I just made something quick and easy once we got to my place.

But the point is that Cotton was there, finally. And as far as Renee was concerned, he was mine.

Cotton and I always had great times together. And because he arrived on Cinco de Mayo, I always think of him every Cinco de Mayo.

The Quail Family

Earlier this month, Lisa over at Two Bears Farm hosted a bird house and bird feeder giveaway (you can read the blog post here but be forewarned: the giveaway is now over).

Anyway, it made me think about all the roadrunners, quail, and hummingbirds I used to see when I lived in Arizona and New Mexico. I kinda miss seeing my feathered southwestern friends.

And then I remembered that once, I actually got a photo of a quail family in our backyard in New Mexico! So last night, I set off to find the photo, skimming through a bunch of my online photo albums, just to find the picture.

Still not 100% after having strep, I was pooped, finding it hard to concentrate. My eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with each photo I looked at. Needless to say, I went to bed before finding the photo.

This morning, though, I hopped to it, and found the photo right away: 

A quail family on the wall in our backyard in Alamogordo, NM.

They're actually on the wall in our backyard. I happened look out the window at just the right time to see them marching along the wall. By the way, the back side of the wall is closer to the ground than the inside. To give you some perspective, the inside of the wall is just about my height (I'm 5'2"), and the outside of the wall is just about 6-12" (if I remember correctly). So I'm assuming they jumped up there from the back side.

It's not the best photo; they were skittish and the mama started herding the babies away just as I was trying to focus the camera on them.

As you can see by the date stamp, I took the photo on 27 May 07.

Anyway, we used to see a lot of quail, roadrunners, and hummingbirds in and around our backyard. It was fun to bird-watch in the Southwest!

Photo of the Day - 22 Mar 2011

Heart-shaped cactus, Tucson, AZ circa autumn 2000.

Bringing Some Flavors of New Mexico into My Iowa Home

I love the Southwest. For those of you new to my blog, I used to live in various places throughout the Southwest, from El Paso, TX, to Alamogordo, NM, to Tucson, AZ.

Sure it's dry, brown, hot. But it's beautiful in its starkness. There's something amazing about the wide open spaces, the turquoise blue skies, the sunsets rich in reds, golds, raspberries, peaches, the billions of stars in the nighttime sky, the fresh, clean smell the rain imparts on the copper landscape.

I love it all.

Anyway, I've been kinda homesick for my beloved Southwest. Maybe it's because of the winter storm Mother Nature is bestowing on the Midwest, where I now live. Maybe it's because of the readings from the Native American Literature class I'm taking.

Regardless of the reason, I'm homesick.

So, when I take a break from all the reading I have to do for my literature classes, I'll sometimes flip through a beautiful book called Tony Hillerman's Landscape, with breathtaking photos of Navajo country. Or maybe I'll take a look at an old issue of New Mexico Magazine.

Know what? In looking through New Mexico Magazine's June 2010 issue, I found an ice cream recipe that I'd marked and had really wanted to try. The flavor combination made me think it'll taste like that "perfume" of New Mexico that I miss so much.

Well, one thing led to another, and somehow I still haven't yet tried it. But, since I've been missing New Mexico so much lately, I may have to try it, even with Old Man Winter literally howling at my door.

This recipe is for Taos Cow Lavender Ice Cream. The recipe is courtesy of Jamie Leeson, owner of Taos Cow Ice Cream Company. He was kind enough to allow me to post the recipe here. 

Taos Cow Lavender Ice Cream

Ingredients:

• 16 oz heavy cream
• 16 oz skim milk
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 3 to 4 egg yolks
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 1 tablespoon ground culinary lavender flowers

Instructions:

1. Heat cream and milk in the top of a double boiler.
2. Add sugar. 
3. When sugar is dissolved, add egg yolks.
4. Still heating, mix completely, but do not let boil. 
5. Add vanilla and lavender flours.
6. Pour mix into ice-cream maker and freeze, according to manufacturer's instructions. 

-Makes about a quart.

-Garnish with lavender flowers, piñon nuts, or fine chocolate sauce.

Now doesn't that sound awesome?!

Taos Cow Ice Cream Company is located in northern New Mexico, in downtown Arroyo Seco on the road between Taos and Taos Ski Valley. They're open every day from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM. Their phone number is (505) 776-5640.

Memory Lane Friday - Shopping

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "Shopping." How fitting for "Black Friday," right?!

I've been wavering back and forth trying to pin down the shopping experience I wanted to write about this week. While I know it's "Black Friday," I couldn't come up with a seasonal anecdote.

So I finally decided to write about my shopping trip to pick out my wedding dress. Okay, so this shopping trip happened in the springtime, but the actual wedding happened during the holiday season (mid-December).

This was back in May 2002. I was stationed in Tucson, AZ at the time, and Andrew was in Fayetteville, NC. Andrew and I were planning on doing a justice of the peace ceremony in early summer, so we could get the marriage certificate and get orders to the same Air Force base at the same time.

That had to happen by the end of June at the very latest, or I'd get orders for who-knows-where. And Andrew? Well, he'd have to stay at his base for another couple years. And who knows if we'd ever make it to the same place at the same time.

But we were still planning for our church wedding, which, as of February 2002, had already been reserved for December 14th at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago.

So here I was, in Tucson, with my bridesmaids were scattered all over the U.S. (Texas, Pennsylvania, Colorado, and Nevada). My mom? She was in Iowa.

Wondering where to start, my maid of honor suggested David's Bridal. The closest one to me was in Phoenix - nearly a 2 hour drive northwest.

So I called the 800 number to find out where exactly they were located, and to schedule an appointment. There were actually TWO of them in Phoenix. I was glad I called because I would've had no idea which one was closer to me. And I was able to get a Saturday appointment, late morning, so I'd have time to head up there and not have to rush.

The day of the appointment, I called to get directions off the interstate. Then I headed out.

I was excited and a bit nervous about picking out "The Dress." But I was also a little sad, disappointed, because none of my bridesmaids would be with me. That didn't discourage me, however. I was determined to have fun, regardless.

When I got there, I was a bit overwhelmed, but the sales associate I'd be working with was very good at listening to the ideas I had, and then helping me find styles that I'd like. I explained that I'd be getting married in Chicago in December, so that helped her figure out what look I was going for, and what kinds of dresses to help me find.

The first time I went in the dressing room, though, I realized that I had needed my bridesmaids - at least one of them - because there's a certain bridal undergarment that the sales associate gave me, and - well - you really need help putting it on.

But I signaled to her to please come in and help me with it. Then it was on to trying on dresses.

There was one that I absolutely LOVED. It had this long train with lace, sequins, and faux pearls. But . . . and of course, there's a but . . . it had sleeves I did NOT care for and the shoulders were way too poofy for me, so I had to say no.

I tried others, explaining what I loved about each dress, and what I didn't quite like.

Finally, I tried one on and thought, This is it. Okay, so the train was not quite as long as the other one I'd loved, but I nevertheless loved all the details of this particular dress.

 Here's the one I picked. (This is from the wedding day photo session).

© Brad Baskin – 2002

We then picked out a veil that matched - it had little rhinestones and faux pearls, just like the dress. And then the shoes (just white satin).

And to top it off, since I'd be getting married in December in Chicago, I picked out a white satin cape with faux fur trim. Check out this link to see what it looked like. And I also got the matching faux fur hand muff. All the sales associates were so excited to be able to see the cape and muff on an actual person! See, they were in Phoenix, so why would a bride need a bridal cape there? Right?

Anyway, since I was heading to the Boston area in a few months, I opted not to get it altered there in Phoenix. The associate let me know the closest store where I could get it altered once Andrew and I moved to Boston for our new assignment. It was in the Natick, MA store, by the way (the poor directions and my getting lost on my way to my first alterations appointment are details for another story).

Oh, and on my way out, I bought my dad a baseball-style cap in black, with white embroidering stating "Father of the Bride"! It was cute. I think he still has it.
 

 Here are two more views of the dress. First, the train (my dad's doing "the hand off"):

© Brad Baskin – 2002

And another view of the front:

© Brad Baskin – 2002

Okay, okay, so here's one more photo of a couple of my bridesmaids doing up my bustling. This was so I could walk around easily during the reception. 

© Brad Baskin – 2002

So yes, I was a little sad that I didn't have my friends with me while shopping for "The Dress" - I felt their absence most while in the dressing room alone AND when I was out in front of the mirrors looking at my final choice. 

But I have to say it was a good adventure after all, and a nice way to remember my first trip to Phoenix.

Please click on the box below to read the rest of this week's Memory Lane Friday posts.

Memory Lane Friday is hosted by Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs.

Memory Lane Friday

This week's Memory Lane Friday is another "No Theme." For a few days, I tried to narrow down a topic.

But a Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs post (A Rattle You DON'T Want to Hear) on Tuesday made the light-bulb turn on over my head.

That means I'm going to write about a time I lived in Tucson, AZ and had an Appendix Quarter Horse named "Wild Stride."

"Wild Stride" in Tucson, circa May 2001.

"Wild Stride" in Tucson, circa May 2001.

"Cotton," as we called him, was a lot of fun. He was a Palomino, obviously, and I would joke that sometimes he acted like a blonde. Little fuzzy bunnies would occasionally scare him out of his wits. Same with fluffy clouds, a cool breeze and . . . well, you get the idea. (Please . . . no offense to you blondes.)

But if I worked him in the ring at least 3 days a week, and turned him out to run around the other days, he'd be mellow enough for me to take him on a trail ride, bareback.

Or maybe I'd have a lesson with my trainer one of those days. Or she'd ride him one or two of those days. Didn't matter what the combination was, just so long as he got worked at least 3 days.

Well, one early Saturday morning, I decided that I'd take him out on a trail ride (saddled, this time, and not a leisurely bareback trail ride). We'd do a lot of walking and trotting (part of which would be in the sandy wash), which would be a good "cardio workout" for him.

Plus, I was looking forward to getting to a particular part of our trail ride. There was this part where we'd leave the bottom of the sandy wash and head up to this dirt road where we could look down a drop on one side and see the wash below, and down the drop on the other side, where we could see some sort of quarry.

Both Cotton and I looked forward to this spot. I'd usually get into a two-point (making sure all my weight was in my heels, keeping my rear out of the saddle, and grabbing a bit of mane for safety). And then I'd squeeze my legs and say "Okay . . . go!" And we'd head off in a hand-gallop. 

After our hand-gallop and a little breather for Cotton, we'd be back to our walking and trotting in the wash before turning around and heading home.

Well . . .that was the plan, anyway.

I'd groomed him, got his bell boots on his front ankles, and tacked him up. (Bell boots or "overreach" boots protect a horse's front heels if he accidentally overreaches/steps on his front heels with his hind hooves, causing injury or shoe loss.) All the while I was daydreaming, looking forward to our trail ride. 

After mounting up, we headed out, thankfully before it got really hot (must've been in the upper 70s/low 80s). It was early summer in Tucson, and while humidity was low, temps could easily rise over 110 degrees, with little to no shade.

We'd only been out for . . . oh . . . about 10 - 15 minutes or so. At this point as we're walking along, while I was enjoying the southwestern landscape, Cotton suddenly slammed on the brakes. It startled me.

What the heck?!  I urged him forward. He swished his tail hard (I could hear the quick swish-swish-swish), while he threw his head around. But he would NOT budge.

I urged him forward again. He reared ever so slightly, just barely lifting his front hooves off the ground, but just enough that I got the message - he didn't want to go forward.

I looked around wondering what the problem was, while he was still acting weird, then felt him backing up.

At this point, I noticed that one of his bell boots was on the ground (it was one that opened/closed with velcro, making it easier to put on/take off, compared to the all-rubber ones). It must've come off as he was "acting up."

I decided to dismount and grab the boot so I could put it back on and continue with our ride.

But when he felt my weight shift on his back, he countered with his body, like he wasn't going to let me get off. I turned him and walked him a few feet toward home, then tried again to dismount.

Still, he wouldn't let me, so I dismounted from the right. Boy did that feel unnatural.

Then I took the reins over his head, holding them in my right hand as I walked toward the bell boot, ready to reach for it with my left hand.

He pulled back, snorting, reins going taut. I looked at him. His eyes were wide, showing lots of white.

And then I heard it.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt goosebumps all over my body, regardless of the rising temps of the day.

It was that scary, unwelcome sound of a rattlesnake's tail. 

I hadn't even seen it, because it was so well camouflaged against the sandy wash floor. But Cotton had sensed it/heard it/seen it long before I realized it was there.

When I realized it was there, I backed away slowly. Upon getting back to Cotton's side, we turned and walked away. Finally, when it seemed like we were a safe distance away I mounted up again, and we headed home, the lone bell boot left where it had fallen.

The adrenaline rush had finally dissipated by the time we got back to the stables.

Poor Cotton. He insisted on turning around as soon as he realized it was there, but I wasn't paying attention. Nevertheless, I am so grateful for him and his "acting up," because he saved me from a poisonous, deadly bite.

Memory Lane Friday is hosted by Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs. Please click on the button below to read her Memory Lane Friday post, as well as any other entries.

Please check back next Friday, when the topic is Halloween, Part I.

Memory Lane Friday - A Collection

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Collection."

I can't really remember any collections I had when I was younger, unless you count the "Black Stallion" series of books by Walter Farley, and his "Island Stallion" books, too.

Sure I had a few Breyer horses, but I didn't really collect them.

But when I was on active duty in the Air Force, I actually began collecting something. They're what most of us in the Air Force would traditionally refer to as an "RMO" - a round, metal object. And there's a reason we call it that, which I'll get to in a moment.

First, I'm going to do a little explaining about what an RMO actually is, trying not to "talk shop" and keep it simple. 

For those of you who don't know what I'm referring to by "RMO," it's a coin - whether a unit coin, like your squadron's coin or a higher level unit (for example: a Group- a number of squadrons with similar functions, or Wing - a number of groups working towards a common goal), or the office of a group or wing commander. It could be from a particular "extracurricular" group, like the Company Grade Officers (CGO) Council (CGOC), an organization made up of Second Lieutenants, First Lieutenants, and Captains. Or a First Sergeants organization, or even the installation's Chief Master Sergeant organization.

You can buy some RMOs, such as a CGOC one, if you're a member of that organization.

But the ones that mean the most are the ones that you'd earn, such as a commander or a Chief Master Sergeant presenting one to you for a job well done.

I have a couple of those, given to me by a couple of my commanders. The one that means the most was from the Mission Support Group Commander, whose group I was in because I was a logistics officer, and he oversaw that function. And I have a special one given to me by a Chief Master Sergeant of a Numbered Air Force (which more or less oversees a number of Wings with a common goal).

Here are mine, all jumbled up (I had to move them so I could find a spot with good light for a photo):

Here are two of a few of mine that were presented to me for a job well done.

The one on the left is from the Mission Support Group Commander. The one on the right is from a Chief Master Sergeant - the Senior Enlisted Adviser for a particular Numbered Air Force headquartered in Tucson, AZ.

Okay, so the custom of calling it an "RMO" . . . I'll have to do a little research on when and why it came to be like this. But, let's just say that you really should have one on you, because it could get expensive.

For instance, if you're at the Club on base after work, and somebody "drops" his/her coin on the bar, that's a challenge for you to "drop" yours. If you don't, you could be responsible for buying a round of drinks (doesn't have to be beer or any other alcoholic beverage - it could be soda for those who don't drink alcohol - designated drivers, pregnant women, or whatever).

Also, if you drop it, I mean literally drop it - say you're fishing in your pocket for your car keys and you accidentally drop your RMO on the floor as you turn your pocket inside out . . . that's considered a challenge, and you could be responsible for buying a round.

Plus, a commander, first sergeant, or someone could come by and "coin check" you and if you don't have one . . . well, you know . . .

And another thing, if someone catches you referring it as "coin" and not RMO (Round Metal Object), then . . . again, you know . . . which is why, now that I'm finished with this explanation, you'll never again catch me calling it anything other than RMO.

Click on the button to check out the rest of this week's Memory Lane Friday posts:

Come back next week when the topic is "A Time You Were Sick."

Memory Lane Friday - A Goof at Work

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Goof at Work." Now, I usually have the Memory Lane Friday post written on Thursday evening and then schedule it to automatically post on Friday morning. But I was so scatterbrained last night after being out of town for a week and a half, I'd forgotten it was Thursday. Oops! Here it is, now!

This particular incident happened when I was still on active duty. I had just been stationed in Tucson, AZ, having been on active duty only about 8 months at this point. I'd actually been in Tucson for only a month or two.

Anyway, Staff Sergeant "F," my NCO, and I were in a career field called "Logistics Plans" and were, among other things, in charge of a large number of materials. This included a large number of pallets and nets, a part of what's known as the 463L pallet cargo system. These pallets and the accompanying nets (top and side nets) are what keep cargo secure when loaded into military cargo aircraft, such as a C-130, as seen below.

A Hercules C-130. Photo by TSgt Howard Blair, USAF.

A pallet is what the cargo sits on. It has rings on each side where the top net, side nets, and tie-downs hook onto, keeping the cargo secure. A single pallet is 88" x 108" and 2 1/4" thick. They're made of aluminum, with a fiberglass core. Empty, a single pallet (without nets or cargo) weighs nearly 300 pounds (290 pounds, if I remember correctly). 

So they're heavy, right? 

Usually, to move them around, someone trained on a forklift would use a forklift to move these pallets from one place to another. A single pallet could be used by a hand-operated jack thingy, if you needed to move one on the floor from one spot to another.

Anyway, SSgt "F" and I were responsible for a whole warehouse of equipment, and we'd inherited it with a lot of "fixer-upper" projects and organization to be accomplished. 

So one morning, we'd headed over to the warehouse to begin organizing everything, and checking equipment to see what was good to go, and what needed to be repaired or replaced. 

We'd taken a few other people from our office over to have some extra helping hands. Now, since we had a few pallets stored improperly on the floor, we needed to move them. We didn't have access to a forklift at the moment, and the pallet jack was broken (one of the items on our ever-growing "to do" list was to get it fixed).

What could we do? Get people on each side of the pallet to carry it over to where it needed to be stored. 

Well . . . since I was new, I didn't have work gloves yet, nor did I have steel-toe boots . . . and the guy that could hook me up with this stuff was unavailable for a week or two.

But I wanted and needed to help . . . I'm sure you're getting the idea that the "goof at work" is coming up soon, right? So what did I do? 

I borrowed a pair of work gloves - a pair of men's sized gloves, that were obviously too big for me, with extra material hanging off each finger. 

And then I jumped in there to help the guys move the pallet by hand. 

If I remember correctly, I think we had a couple pallets to move, as I mentioned before. Now that I really think about it, maybe two of 'em? 

We moved one no problem. Then we moved the other. 

And that's when the "goof at work" occurred. 

Oh, boy. When we moved the other and set it down, we counted "1, 2, 3" and set it down. When we did that, and I pulled my hands out from under the pallet, the 290 pound pallet, a bit of extra material off my right hand's pointer finger got caught. The tip of my finger, therefore, momentarily got caught under the pallet.

Aaaaahhhh!!!

Did that hurt like a you-know-what!! 

It felt like hitting your funny-bone really hard. Must've been the nerves in the tip of my finger, but it made me dizzy. I broke out instantly in a clammy sweat (even though the humidity in the desert Southwest must've only been around 7%).

The guys asked "Hey, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay." 

But the pain was THROBBING like mad, and I could feel it throbbing all the way up my arm. (I can feel "phantom pain" in my finger and up my arm, just recalling this incident!)

I'd taken the glove off, and my finger was already as big as a fat slug. Blech. 

I went and sat down in a corner of the warehouse. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it felt like forever, but it must've been only a few minutes. 

Finally, I got up and helped with other stuff, as best I could with my right hand (the dominant one, of course) not working very well. 

When we headed back to the office, I stopped in the women's room to run some cold water on it. It was, by this point, gross looking, but I didn't think it was broken.

Of course, as soon as I sat down at my desk, I had somebody come in with paperwork for me to sign . . . oh joy! Now that was fun, with this big ol' swollen finger on my writing hand!

I did end up going to the clinic, at the urging of someone in my office. Definitely not broken . . . it just needed time to heal; the pain would go away when the swelling went down. 

Ouch! Definitely not a goof I'll forget! Oh, and by the way, I waited 'til I got my appropriately sized safety gear before helping out in the warehouse again!

Please click on the button below to read this week's other Memory Lane Friday posts!!

Check back next week when the Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Collection."

Hello again, Saudade!

I've really been missing Tucson and the Southwest, lately. Saudade has hit full-force. Just feeling a bit "homesick," I guess.

Anyway, here are a few photos I found recently, from back when I lived in Tucson. 

Thunderstorm in Tucson, circa September 2001:

Storm over Tucson and saguaros, circa November 2001:

Tucson, circa summer 2000:

Memory Lane Friday - That Was a First

It's Memory Lane Friday, again! Yay! I enjoy doing these posts; they're truly a lot of fun! Not only do I get to sit here and reminisce about fun, crazy, wild, fantastic stuff, I get a great reason to look through old photos.

So this week's topic is "That Was a First." Now, I could've written about the first time I drove a car (that was a funny memory). Or I could've written about the first time I rode a horse, went deep sea fishing, or the first time I rode a roller coaster.

However, since I keep thinking about last week's Memory Lane Friday - A Tourist Trap post which took place in the Southwest, I'm going to continue with the "located in the Southwest" theme with this week's post.

This incident happened along I-10 in Arizona, just about a 10-15 minute drive from the New Mexico border. (See what I mean? The first story I talked about in last week's post took place along I-10 in Arizona, too.) And the incident? Well, keep reading . . .

Some scenery along I-10 in Arizona:

 These photos are near a place called Texas Canyon in Arizona. The distinctive scenery includes huge boulders all about.

Man-o-man! Was this an incident to remember?! It was December 2001, and I was on active duty, stationed in Tucson, AZ. I'd been heading from Tucson to El Paso, TX to spend the Christmas holiday with my grandparents. It must've been just a few days before Christmas, maybe the 21st or 22nd.

Here I was, in my little black Corolla, just cruising along - literally cruising. The speed limit on this section of I-10 was 75 MPH, so I'd had my cruise control set to 80 MPH. Exactly 80. You know, because this stretch of I-10 - through this eastern part of southern AZ and most of the way through southern New Mexico until you got near Las Cruces - was desolate. Sometimes you'd have an exit with a gas station or a motel or restaurant, or even an occasional rest stop but otherwise it was sparse, lonely. Think brown, dusty land as far as the eye can see.

So here I am, cruising along at 80, no more, no less. I had it on cruise control. You know, because I didn't think I'd get pulled over for going a measly FIVE MPH over the posted speed limit.

I remember passing a car on the side of the road that had been pulled over by the Arizona Highway Patrol.

I remember thinking, at least it wasn't ME! as I smiled and zoomed past them at 80, just 5 MPH over the speed limit.

I remember being excited about the holiday with my grandparents. I couldn't wait to walk through the garage, into the house, through the laundry room and into that kitchen smelling like all the wonderful food my grandmother always cooked.

And then something caught my eye.

Oh, boy. It was flashing lights in the rear view mirror!! My heart jumped into my throat. No way!! That trooper had just pulled some other car over! It can't be happening to ME!!

Of course, there was a moment when I thought that it wasn't me. Maybe he was heading down the highway to catch somebody else and he'll pass me at any moment. Right?

Wrong!

So I did what I had to do. I slowed down and pulled over, putting the car in park. I rolled down my driver's side window and put my hands back on the steering wheel at 10 and 2 (somehow, I was afraid he'd think I was doing something suspicious if he couldn't see my hands, so I kept them on the steering wheel, thinking he could see them there the best).

I expected him on my side of the car, so I kept looking in the driver's side mirror, so I could see him approaching.

But a knock on the passenger side front window startled me, and I looked over to see him there.

I had power windows on that car, so I opened the window without having to lean all the way over there.

I smiled and tried not to be nervous. But my heart was pounding hard, and I could feel my forehead and upper lip getting clammy.

He began speaking and while I was listening carefully, I was not exactly processing what he was saying to me. I tried to answer his questions as best I could. Did I know why he pulled me over? "Um, was I speeding, sir?" Duh, of course I was, and I knew it, but it came out as a question.

He asked if I knew how fast I was going. I said, "Um, yes. I was going 80."

"Do you know what the speed limit is?"

"Yes, it's 75 here." I'm thinking, Yes, I know I'm busted. Please, just give me a warning. Please. How am I going to explain a ticket to my grandparents?!

He heads back to his car, saying he'd be right back. It must've just been a few short minutes, no more than 5, I'm estimating.

It felt like forever.

Then he came back and said I was doing 82 - meaning 7 MPH over the limit. And here he was, handing me a piece of paper. I was still hoping it was a warning. And then I saw it was an actual ticket, not a warning. Yep, that was a first! I wanted to cry.

But then he mentioned something about the military installation sticker I had on the car and the uniform hanging in the back (I'd stopped at the cleaners to pick it up on my way out of town, so I wouldn't forget about it after the holidays).

"Yes," to answer his question, "I'm stationed in Tucson."

"Okay, you can go to a one-day classroom-only driving school in Tucson, and the ticket won't go on your record or affect your insurance."

And that was it.

I put the car in D and continued on. Just a couple minutes later, I came upon a rest area. I pulled in and sat there for a few minutes before I called Andrew to tell him all about it. We were newly engaged at the time, and he was stationed in North Carolina, getting ready to head to Delaware to spend the holiday with his parents.

After talking to him, I felt ready to move along.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I finally got to my grandparents' in El Paso. It seemed like forever because I was actually going slightly slower than the posted speed limit. Usually I'd go about 5-8 MPH faster.

Now, this was at a time when my grandfather had already started using a wheelchair on a regular basis to get around the house. Usually when I visited, I'd push him along to give him a hand if he wanted to go from point A to point B.

Actually, to clarify something . . . I'd push the wheelchair while he was sitting in it, and not push him. He always wanted to clarify that point when I asked "Do you want me to push you somewhere?"

"No," with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face, "I want you to push the wheelchair when I'm settled into it." Hahaha! That was his sense of humor.

So when I got there, after settling in and having a snack and an icy cold soda, my grandfather asked me to push him . . . push the wheelchair as he sat in it . . . from the kitchen to the office.

As I pushed him along, still feeling really guilty about the ticket, he whistled and told me with a faint smile on his face, "Slow down; do you want a speeding ticket?"

I was shocked! How did he know I had a speeding ticket?!

He didn't, of course. It was just the timing of the question and my feeling guilty about it. It's funny now, and I'm smiling as I recall his question. And I did end up going to driving school one Saturday, so it's like I never had a ticket. ;)

Click on the button for the rest of this week's Memory Lane Friday posts:

Come back next week when the topic is: "Chore Time."

Memory Lane Friday - A Tourist Trap

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Tourist Trap."

Okay, I had to really think about this one.

The first thing that came to mind? It would be "The Thing?" found somewhere out in the middle of nowhere (or so it seems), just off of I-10 in Arizona.

When I was stationed in Tucson, AZ, I would occasionally travel I-10 to El Paso, TX to visit my grandparents. I don't remember paying close attention to the signs the first time I traveled to El Paso from Tucson. It was evening, and I just wanted to drive the 5 or so hours to El Paso.

But when I headed back after the long weekend, I noticed these loud billboards. Yellow, red, brightly colored, just screaming to be read.

What were they advertising? "The Thing," whatever that may be. All the way between El Paso and Tucson, you'd see these signs along I-10. I was always just a teeny bit curious, but by the time I passed one sign, the curiosity would pass, as well . . . until the next sign.

My curiosity was never so strong that I had to stop, though.

Then came a period when my good friend, Brenda, came from Nevada to visit me for about a week. We were heading to Willcox, AZ, about an 80 mile drive from Tucson. There's this store in Willcox that sells these tasty apple pies, apple cider, apple butter, apple this and apple that, among other things. Stout's Cider Mill, I think it's called.

Anyway, we kept seeing these billboards for "The Thing?" and basically just looked at each other and said, Oh, what the heck. Let's stop and check it out.

When we got to Exit 322 off I-10, somewhere between Benson and Willcox AZ, we stopped to find out what is "The Thing?"

We parked, got out and paid our $1.00 per adult admission fee, went to the cave-like entrance, and followed the yellow footprints on the walkway.

And . . . what IS "The Thing?"

You'll just have to find out for yourself.

Please click here to listen to an NPR story about "The Thing," and to see an accompanying slide show (warning, Spoiler Alert): "Mystery of The Thing Unwrapped" by Rene Gutel for KJZZ 91.5 FM.

Update: Click here for an audio clip of the "Mystery of The Thing Unwrapped" by Rene Gutel (for KJZZ 91.5 FM). For some reason, the link above no longer takes viewers to the video they used to have. 

Update #2: Check out the NPR "Pilgrimate to 'The Thing' in the Arizona Desert," as the other two links no longer seem to work. 

This may not be a popular, widely known "tourist trap," but the signs were certainly eye-catching enough to get $2 from Brenda and me. And it's something I can laugh about, simply recalling that we paid money to see that?!

Now, here's one other quick "tourist trap" story since my brain's still in the southwest recalling my favorite dusty, dry area of the country.

When Andrew and I were no longer on active duty, and were looking for positions in civilian companies, we moved to my parents' until one (or both) of us found employment and got our own place to live. 

The first thing we did was fly from New Mexico to Iowa with Livie, who was about a year and a half at the time.

After taking a couple weeks and completely settling in, we left Livie in the capable, competent, loving hands of her maternal grandmother, so Andrew and I could fly back to New Mexico one more time.

First of all, we needed to get one of our vehicles, so we'd have something to drive.

Second, we needed to get a few more necessary items from our house (winter clothing, the plants, stuff like that), because when the movers got there to pack and send our stuff to storage, we wouldn't have access to any of it until we moved into our own place. 

We took a few days - one day to fly out there, another day to pack the remaining "necessary items" and then left on the third day to drive back to Iowa.

It took us nearly 3 days of "taking our time" while driving because we didn't know when we'd be back in the Southwest. We wanted to savor it for just a couple more days. And by this time, Andrew had fallen in love with the area nearly as much as I had many years ago.

So on the way back, we headed through Roswell, NM. Yes, the UFO/alien place. 

I just had to stop. And because of what time we'd left Alamogordo, we got to Roswell just in time for lunch. So that was a good way of getting Andrew to stop. We had to eat lunch, right?

It was so touristy! But fun! I sent a couple alien-related post cards to Livie, and one to my brother Alex. In the past, every time I traveled somewhere new, I'd send a post card from that place to my brothers, and had to do it again - this time for Alex and Livie. I've kept all the post cards Livie has gotten, by the way. And I learned that Alex kept a bunch (if not all) of the ones I sent him. 

Here are a few photos of Roswell, NM. I'm not in any of them (I was having too much fun taking photos), but Andrew is in a couple.

Andrew's standing next to the "UFO Parking Only" sign!

Check out all the souvenir-filled tourist (or alien) traps:

Andrew gets some face time with a "visitor":

Even the lamp posts look like aliens!

So there you go. My version of "A Tourist Trap." A bit off the beaten path, but touristy nonetheless, right? Sometimes you just gotta stop someplace out of the ordinary, so you have some good stories down the road! I'm glad Livie has the travel bug just like I do, so she'll be up for fun, quirky stops like this in the future.

Don't forget . . . please click on the "Memory Lane Fridays" button below to check out this week's other Memory Lane Friday blog posts (including Memory Lane Friday's host at Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs):

Next week's topic is "That Was a First."