Reader, Thinker, Writer, Lover.
August 2015

I have quite a horrible reputation in my house. I am known as a complete grump when it comes to shopping. It’s so bad that my daughters dread asking me to even help them buy pencils. I fuss and procrastinate and have a bad attitude. Don’t even get me started on clothes shopping…it’s absolutely taboo.

Generally, I will agree to go shopping after they hound me for weeks and convince me that they don’t have a single stitch of clothing that is fit to be worn in public. At that point, I take them shopping, and after about 30 minutes, I am whining and stomping, “JUST PICK SOMETHING! I do NOT care about the minute differences in texture or color variation!” Read more…


If I’m not listening closely, I can miss it.

It’s deep and quiet and rumble-y…like a train you hear rolling down the tracks from miles away on a clear night or a Night Train of the Harley Davidson variety starting up a block down the street.

It originates from deep inside his belly and reverberates through his big barrel chest. It seems to bypass his throat entirely and exits through his soft muzzle, the air escaping and making his nostrils bounce almost imperceptibly. Read more…


Even if you don’t ride horses, I bet you can:

  1. Find something in my body position that I could improve on, and
  2. Get a life lesson from it.

Read more…

August 2, 2015

The Old Man in Me

Written by Posted in Blog Posts Comments 2

He comes unbeckoned into my brain sometimes, an old man whom I hardly knew, born in the late 1800s and who lived most of his life on his ranch in southern New Mexico. The name Isidore Davila is spoken with quiet reverence in my family; most of us refer to him as Grandpa Davila. When I think of him, he morphs from the old man I remember, even though I was only three years old, to a young vaquero, out gathering his cattle in the mountains. The snow is swirling around him, his head, and the head of his horse, tucked down against the wind as they walk into a blizzard.

He was of the old cowboy ways, the homesteaders and ranchers who had little to sustain them other than the work they were willing to put into their land. It is said they worked an 8 hour day: eight hours before noon and eight hours after. Read more…