{ the big idea }

2010 Reasons To Read My New Blog

2010-01-01T09:39:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I lied.

I admit it: I only claimed that I would present 2010 reasons to read my new blog so that you would read this post. I am not actually going to take the time to make up... er, come up with 2010 reasons to read my new blog. I just wanted to get your attention so I could remind you to switch over to the Jest Kept Secret.

You know you want to. All the cool kids are doing it.

And by the way, Happy New Year. ;)

You Know What I Learned About Boobies?

2009-12-27T23:00:00.000-08:00

My parents told me to write this. In other words, if you are offended by the following content, blame them.

I read recently that occasionally, male Blue Footed Boobies will take a year-long sabbatical from intimacy get "sexier". No joke. Apparently, the Lady Blue Footed Boobies are attracted to Male Blue Footed Boobies with extra blue feet. If a male skips a breeding season, his feet will be even bluer the next year. Translation: Now we know why Viagra is blue.

Yeah, keep dancin' buddy.

Photos by unknown photographers. My apologies for not crediting you, but I have no idea who you are. If you happen to find your photo posted on my blog and would like credit for it, please let me know and I'd be happy to do so.

Merry Christmas to All

2009-12-25T17:42:00.001-08:00

And to all, a good night!

White Fences

2009-12-14T17:44:00.000-08:00

It is cold outside.

I'm sitting here, eating potato soup and waiting for my fingers to thaw after braving the barrens to feed the horses and the cat. Two nights ago, a fog settled over the valley and left a fabulous ice display for us to ooh and ahh over Sunday morning, and it's trying hard to wow us again. It was a beautiful day today and warm, but the moment the sun set, the cold returned. Feed buckets were frozen to the ground. Metal gate latches were painful to touch. Ice crystals spread like so many spider webs across the surface of the fence, the delicate reaches of their fingers sparkling in the light of my LED flashlight. Cold as I was and eager to get back to the house, I stopped to take a moment to admire these beauties, these perfect, frozen little hydogen bonds, and I realized how lucky I am.

I failed to mention this in my last posting, but my parents have moved again. Not far, just the next town over. But if I have one thing to say about our new home, it would be, "Boy, this is an upgrade."

Which, in fact, I did say the very first time I saw the house. No offense to the old house, but this, this is the stuff dreams are made of.

My excellent photography habit has fallen by the wayside since I have arrived home, I regret to say, but I shall try to take some photos before I leave so you can all see that I'm not just making this all up.

The house is a small, Craftsman-style house built in the 1940s and moved to its current spot about 20 years ago. It has hardwood floors, built-in cubboards, a wall hutch, two fireplaces with mantles, and an attic that makes artists swoon. Literally.

But my personal favorite part: 4 1/2 acres surrounded by white vinyl fences.

You know that cliche dream that so many people have - the little bungalow in the country with the white picket fence?

I've never had that dream. The bungalow in the country, sure, but no picket fencing -you can't have horses with picket fencing. Well, I suppose you could, but that would be asking for a hefty vet bill. You might as well sign the blank check now.

But vinyl, white vinyl. Now that would get my heart galloping. As a child, I would see those white vinyl fences and know that there were horses inside them. Even now, when I envision my dream farm, I see miles and miles and miles of white vinyl fencing. Future Husband, wherever you are, I don't want a diamond - I want a synthetic stone made out of recycled vinyl.

We had a party on Friday night, a Christmas party that filled the house with so many friends that you literally couldn't move. During the afternoon before the party, Mom strung Christmas lights on the porches while Dad and I hung 75 opaque plastic cups on the fence and put a single tea light in each. Before the guests arrived, the lights were lit and our house was suddenly worthy of the Better Homes and Gardens cover. It was magical, like something from a fairy tale.

We are so blessed.

And p.s. The driveway is lined with mature trees.

The Christmas Spirit

2009-12-13T16:37:00.000-08:00

Family and Friends, please enjoy this beautiful video about the real "reason for the season".

May your Christmas season be filled with love, light, and a knowledge of God's love for you.

The Christmas Spirit

Stampede Strings

2009-12-11T00:28:00.000-08:00

New Mexico is a windy place. I believe I have mentioned that before, but I think that everything about New Mexico bears mentioning more than once.

New Mexico is a windy place, and while I generally find that delightful, it poses issues when you're a Pony Wrangler wearing a straw hat given to you by the very man who owns the Resistol Hat Company. Hats like that are impossible to replace, and the last thing you want is for your nifty, I-Got-This-Hat-From-A-Famous-Guy hat to join the tumbleweed in a dance-off in the high desert. There is a saying in these parts that goes something along the lines of, "You can tell a native New Mexican from a visitor by how he reacts when the wind blows his hat off. The visitor goes chasing after it, while the New Mexican buys another one the next time he's in town."

So I did what any self-respecting, hat-loving Pony Wrangler would do. I went and bought myself a pair of stampede strings, a fabulous invention that keeps your hat literally tied onto your head.

Now let me tell you, I am a smart shopper (sometimes). When I want to buy myself something fancy, I look at a couple different stores until I find the Deal Of The Century - a deal so good, every word deserves capitalization. I had done so with these stampede strings, and when I asked the proprietor of a cowboy clothes store in Taos if she sold any, she laughed at me. "No, honey," she said in a thick New Mexican accent. "I don't carry those." At first, I thought she was turning her nose up at me, but then I realized she was just working hard on keeping her glasses balanced on the end of her nose.

But I finally found a pair at the local tack store and brought them home to meet my nifty, I-Got-This-Hat-From-A-Famous-Guy hat. I put on the hat and tromped off to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror, at which point I realized my mistake.

Stampede Strings are just about the nerdiest thing ever invented. You thought the pocket protector was bad? Check out these bad boys - nothing says, "I wish I was a cool cowgirl, but I'm not," quite like a pair of black stampede strings with flaxen horse hair tassles at the end. Sure, they're cool in concept. You think, "Hey, I can wear my hat around my neck when I don't want it on my head," and it's true - as long as you don't mind not breathing when the hat pulls the strings against your trachea. And I guess they're cool if you like having your ears pushed forward until you look like Bug Hall.

Nope.

But there they were, and there was nothing I could do about it because I had to wear a hat and I was tired of having to calm spooking ponies when my hat blew off my head in the middle of Sandy the Small Fry's pony ride. And it worked, too - sometimes too well. If the wind was really bad, the stampede strings would catch on the back of my ears so the hat would flip forward and cover my eyes. Now THAT was fun.

Okay, Jess, why are you telling us about your stampede strings?

I'm not. I'm telling you about wind. The Winds of Change, to be more specific. Geez. Get with the program, will ya?

The WOC are blowing again. You know how I like to rearrange the furniture every once in a while? Well, 2010 is coming up, and it's going to bring some changes. BIG changes.

#1. I'm going back to New Mexico.

But Jess, you're IN New Mexico.

False. I am in Idaho. I came home to visit my family for the holidays. My fall contract at Philmont ended November 20, and I thought that was it for my Philmont Adventures until May. But I've been offered a position for the winter season starting in January, so with another summer season on top of that, I'll be there until August.

#2. I'm retiring The Big Idea.

WHAT?!

I know it's hard to believe, but I've grown tired of having a blog with a ridiculously long address that obviously rips off someone else's blog name (heywhatsthebigidea 2), so I decided to scratch the whole thing. Starting in January, I'll be posting to the much, much shorter blog address of jestkeptsecret.blogspot.com. But don't you fret, and don't you frown. I'll be leaving The Big Idea up for all of you who just love to go back over my old posts with a reminscent sigh.

#3. I'm starting a ridiculously brilliant blog project with my super cool friends Heidi and Cheri Kay. It's called The Thursday Chronicles. I won't spoil any surprises now, but I promise that its awesomeness will be mind boggling.

#4. I'm getting married. Just kidding.

#5. I will start the process of looking for a literary agent! That's right, folks! Jess' Ten Year Book Project is almost finished. I've got 20 days to meet my 2009 New Year's Resolution goal, and I can honestly say that there is light at the end of the tunnel. And even if I end up like every other New Year's Resolution breaker in the world, I am close enough to finishing that 2010 will still be the year to start crossing my fingers every time I check the mail.

#6. I'm starting a business. The website hasn't been launched yet, but some time in early 2010, there will be a Grand Opening celebration for Zia Recreational Marketing. In a nut shell, ZRM will be a marketing firm that serves small recreational companies ranging from horse farms to art galleries. Services offered will include photography, web design, logo design, copywriting, print media development, and limited market research. As the business grows (hopefully), video production and event planning will be added to the lineup. More details to follow, so keep your eyes on the horizon.

So get ready, y'all! 2010 is going to be a great year, and I look forward to spending it with all of you!

Garden Walls

2009-10-25T15:44:00.000-07:00

Written by: Mindy Gledhill and Kenneth Cope

The lights within Jerusalem are gone
But there is one who will not sleep at all
He will call upon the powers of Heaven
Deep within a garden’s walls

A voice breaks through the silence in the night
And branches shake to hear a grown man cry
Oh, He cries and feels the sting of death inside
But He won’t ask why

Through the years and ‘cross the deep blue sea comes this mystery
Why would the king of Heaven and Earth bow down to free me?

Footsteps in the sand are drawing nigh
And raging voices echo in the sky
Angry eyes can’t see that the man they send to die
Offers Life

Through the years and ‘cross the deep blue sea comes this mystery
Why would the king of Heaven and Earth bow down to free me?

Two thousand years and ‘cross the deep blue sea (wondrous mystery)
The King of all creation came to free me!

The lights within this city now are gone
But there is one who cannot sleep at all
I will answer to the voice that ever calls
From those garden walls

Jeremiah 17:7 - Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is.

Home Is Where The Bart Is

2009-09-28T00:34:00.000-07:00

These bears that keep showing up on the Villa lawn sit up there in those cottonwoods looking for all the world like they'd rather snuggle with you than eat you. There's no malice, no threat in their behavior, just an overwhelming desire to eat lots and lots and lots of trash before they bed down in their dens for the winter, and confusion as to why we find their dumpster diving so bothersome. "You don't want it anyways," they seem to say. "Why can't I have it?"

If you were to add up all the bears I have seen in my life to this point – blacks, grizzlies, polars, all of the above – the past three weeks would still beat the record. Soundly, and with enough room to spare that you could subdivide and make lots of money in real estate even in this market. At last count, I have seen eighteen bears since the beginning of the month. Goldilocks has got nothin' on me.

Wednesday evening, my roommate Caitie and I were slated to work the movie night in the assembly hall. "Follow Me Boys" was the featured feature, and Bean was already busy popping the corn by the time we got there. A participant came inside and told us that there was a bear out on the Villa lawn, so Caitie and I stepped outside to see for ourselves.

Sure enough, there he was – a big, beautiful black bear (that's all we have here) standing by my favorite lightning-scarred tree next to the Villa Philmonte. We were no more than fifty feet from this brute and yet there was no fear to taint the awe I felt at being so close to such an incredible animal. 'Course, it probably helped that I was standing just outside a door that was still propped slightly open to allow us an easy retreat in case he decided we looked tastier than the trash his powerful schnozzle could smell wafting across the greensward from the dumpsters behind the dining hall…

But just then, he decided he had had enough of our staring contest and strolled quite leisurely towards the dumpsters. Which meant that he was strolling quite leisurely towards the very path participants were taking to get to the assembly hall for the movie. Ummmmm…

Caitie and I knew we needed to steer him away from people, so we switched into Hero Mode and ran inside to enlist the help of "Cheddar", an experienced Bear Chaser. He led us outside and together, we ran after the bear, hooting and hollering and waving our arms like crazy people. Papa Bear ran around the side of the dining hall and took a stand at the base of a tree, where he turned to stare at us and refused to move any further. We stopped a safe distance away and hooted and hollered some more until he took off again, cutting around the west side of the dining hall with the obvious intent to circle back around to the dumpsters we had pushed him past.

So we turned back to cut him off at the pass and he took refuge in the same tree he had started near. When he stood to climb it, he was easily six feet tall, and he scaled that limb-less cottonwood trunk like it was the easiest thing in the world. When he realized he wasn't going to make it to the lowest branches, he turned and sat in the hollow left when the lightning robbed the tree of one large limb, looking very much like a dog who knows he's in deep trouble.

It was around this time that we our Boss, who was leading our little Bear Brigade, alerted us to the presence of a second bear treed in another cottonwood across the lawn. He (the boss, not the bear) handed me his flashlight and told us to keep an eye on it while he and Cheddar finished chasing Papa Bear out of PTC.

Bear #2 was smaller and was busy climbing as high as he could in the pine tree he had taken shelter in. While we were busy making sure he didn't try and make a run for it, I looked over my shoulder and what did I see? Bear #3 sauntering along the back side of the PTC Program Office and heading right for us.

Confident Bear #2 was going to stay put for the time being (he had found a comfortable limb and wouldn't have moved if you paid him), we turned to steer Bear #3 away from civilization. This one was extra tricky because we didn't want to drive him towards the tents, so we had to circle around the back side of him to push him towards the west. He didn't feel like cooperating, however, and decided it was a much better idea to climb a tree he was really too big to sit in for very long. After about twenty minutes, he threw a big huffing-and-puffing temper tantrum, backed his way down the tree, and ran towards another cottonwood next to the pine tree Bear #2 was staked out in. Finding this tree much better suited to the needs of his immeasurable derriere, he settled down in a nook between five or six limbs and stayed put.

Here at Philmont, we pride ourselves on "delivering outdoor experiences that last a lifetime." This week was our Fall Conference, with over 200 people attending training and participating in family program activities. Yet for all of the time spent in the classroom, one participant – who stood by taking pictures as I kept a flashlight trained on Bear #3 to keep him up a tree and out of the way – told me that the bears were his favorite part of the week. This was quite possibly the first week in PTC history in which every person in attendance saw a bear, and many of those people admitted to never having seen one before.

There is obviously an element of danger involved in some of these "outdoor experiences", but that is part of the lure of this place. I love the unpredictability of everything from the wildlife to the weather. I feel so blessed to be in a position where every day is literally an adventure, and where I can commit myself to making sure participants have a safe, enjoyable time experiencing things they may never have the opportunity to experience anywhere else. It has given me a sense of purpose, a sense of pride and a feeling that I am part of something so much bigger than myself.

Of all the many, many places I have lived, I have never felt a strong sense of "home". I've enjoyed them all and never felt out of place, but I've been searching for a place to set down roots, a place where I feel like I belong.

I think I may have found it.

(For those of you who pay attention to my titles, yes, I know Bart was a Grizzly not a Black Bear, but Gentle Ben just didn't fit.)

Sunrise, Sunset

2009-09-09T20:00:00.001-07:00

It is officially the second day of Fall Season at Philmont Scout Ranch, but the only major thing separating summer from fall was the disappearance of most of my friends, fuzzy and otherwise. Work has continued since the end of Family Program a few weeks ago – albeit of a different nature – and my mind still hasn't accepted the fact that my friends aren't just gone on an extended vacation from which they'll return in a few days.

The end of summer always brings sadness and like most other unpleasant things, I try to repress those memories. Occasionally, though, thoughts of the end derail me and I find myself suddenly melancholy, almost tearful if I'm not careful. What a blessing it has been to spend another summer here in "God's Country" and to make wonderful new friends. To those of you who may read this, rest assured that you will not be forgotten. Ever.

A few weeks before the end of the summer program here at PTC, Samson and Elliot started exhibiting some strange symptoms and had to be taken down to Cattle Headquarters for treatment. That same week, Kit Kat also fell ill and I administered my first ever penicillin IM injections – but to no avail. After it became painfully obvious she wasn't getting better, she, too, was taken away for treatment. The Ranch Superintendant and other Head Horsemen assured me it wasn't because of anything I was doing, but that didn't discourage the flood of internal criticism or the well-hidden emotions that early and unexpected goodbyes always cause.

As the backcountry camps began to gather and critters were returned to their rightful owners (farmers who lend animals to Philmont during the summer season – only the horses, burros and bovines are owned by the ranch), my animals began to disappear. First, they came to wrestle Tam and Jet the sheep onto the waiting horse trailer, and I remembered with fondness how Jet's name had evolved from the Thai word for six(???) – "She's a counting sheep!" said Dan when I let him name her – to a shortened form of "Jetpack" after she took a flying leap at the moon while trying to evade some eager children.

I went to the Taos Pueblo with the Silverados (adult spouses of conference participants) when I had no rides that final Thursday and came home to find that the wranglers had come for my ponies. I cried when no one was looking.

I spent the next day closing down the Pony Barn for the winter with nothing left but the goats and chickens. The goats were beside themselves with loneliness and maa-ed incessantly if I was busy working somewhere where they couldn't see me. As soon as I would go visit them, they'd settle down and lean against my legs as they picked at the last of their hay. Every once in a while, they'd talk with their mouth full, little maa-s to keep my mind where it belonged – there in their pen and not on the work I was supposed to be doing. If the lure of duty finally got me back on my feet, they'd maa at me some more and try to block my passage through the gate, then continue to yell explicit goat-words at my back as I walked away.

The chickens, through it all, remained oblivious to the world outside of their yard, and even when Boss Man came for my goats, they pecked placidly at bugs I couldn't see and sang their little chicken songs to no one in particular. It would only be a few more days before they, too, were taken, and when they were, I felt empty and useless.

Funny how a bunch of farm animals can give your life purpose, eh?

But all was not lost – I found renewed purpose in the duties I'd be assigned for the fall, varied and unpredictable as they may be. My animals were gone and all but a few of my friends had gone back to their homes and/or schools, to be educated, married, or otherwise employed (or not…). Yet here I am, living now in a duplex where I no longer have to fend off fanged, would-be predators with the blunt end of my flashlight on my way to the bathroom, and here I will stay until November is almost over.

So far, I have

- Driven 4WD in the backcountry to read and write on the porch of my favorite camp while four fly-fishermen tested the waters of the Rayado and Agua Fria Rivers.

- Seen 2 bears

- Hiked two hikes in one day – one to Lover's Leap and the other to Cimarroncito Reservoir

- Tended to the lush gardens of the Villa Philmonte

- Moved more tables and chairs than I can count and felt it the next day… and the day after that…

- Served barbequed buffalo steaks in an historic fort with ties to famous men of Western Lore, such as Kit Carson, Lucien B. Maxwell, Charles Beaubien and Guadalupe Miranda.

So as one more summer closes and I fondly wave farewell, I cannot be sad. Every end breathes its last breath into a new beginning, a new adventure, new blessings, a new chance to see what I'm made of.

And a new chance to be more diligent about blogging…. ;)

Winning Isn't Everything

2009-07-19T22:21:00.001-07:00

So, you know that whole thing about updating my blog regularly while I'm at Philmont? Yeah… So much for that idea. And this time, I don't even have alien abduction as my excuse. Nope, I'm just that lazy.

Lazy, or having fun. Philmont has the corner on the market for time flying, if you know what I mean. Seriously, it's hard to believe we've reached – and passed – the half-way mark of the summer. The PTC family program is going really well, and the kids are so much fun to have around. The new ponies are settling in nicely – other than the fact that KitKat manages to give herself a new injury every day – and everything but my garden has been a success. Even the sheep are starting to warm up to the idea of making friends.

A few highlights of the past few weeks of my life:

- Costume Party/Mystery Dinner: Props to Charlotte, our official Staff Morale Booster, for coming up with some brilliant ideas for staff activities this summer. This costume party was a huge hit, with people dressing up like everything from teachers to tomboys and Ghostbusters to... Greg? Yes, that would be me. Dressed like my boss. This is important information for lots of people to know.

- Closing Program: Every week, two lucky volunteers sign up to be the emcees for Friday night's closing program. One of these weeks, Danica and I were those lucky two, and by your powers combined, we were Captain Campout and Super Scout. This brought back memories from summer numero uno - it was the same program I did with Monica - but there were enough changes in it to keep it fresh and fun. My favorite addition? The Bandana/Banana skit. I end up with a squashed banana on my head. It doesn't get much cooler than that.

- LDS Weeks: During these, my favorite weeks of the summer, we Mormons take the Ranch by storm. Seriously. Week two brought something like 700 people to PTC, which meant LOTS of little kids. I have to give a shout-out to my awesome friends who came up to the Pony Barn to help during pony rides – thanks guys!! I wouldn't have survived without you!

During LDS week #1, my good friends the Kaskis came from Michigan. It was great to see them and to catch up – we haven't seen each other in almost 5 years!

- Ashton is back! My lovely assistant pony wrangler came back from Missouri for another summer of fun-ness at the Pony Barn. I can't believe she's 14 now – but at least she still thinks I'm cool.

- Rafting Trip: On July 11^th, a bunch of us from PTC went to Taos for a rafting trip down the Rio Grande. The weather was perfect, and the river was really fun! I put sunscreen on – promise – but I still managed to fry under the hot New Mexico sun reflecting off the river. But hey, maybe it'll help me get rid of my infamous Phil-tan. It took me three months to get this watch tan and neck "v" the first time around. It took me two years to get rid of them, but within two weeks of being here this summer, they were back. Oh well… I've decided to embrace the tan lines. I earned these babies.

- Temple Trip: Yesterday, eleven of us LDS staffers got up at o-dark-hundred to leave Philmont at 4:30am and drive 3.5 hours to the Albuquerque temple. It was beautiful as always, and it was good to go to the temple. What a peaceful, happy place.

- Mr. and Ms. PTC Pageant: Tonight after opening program, we held the first annual Mr. and Ms. PTC Pageant. Complete with nominations, questions, improv challenges and a costume class, the Pageant was a big hit. Someone apparently thinks I'm cool because I got nominated, and after correctly answering 2 out of 3 questions (I would argue that I answered them all correctly, but I don't think the judges agreed that "Me" was the right answer to the question, "Who was Lucien B. Maxwell's best friend and fellow Indian agent?"), drawing a picture of Greg Gamewell, and dressing up as "Gregily" (the quintessential combination of two of my bosses), I was crowned Ms. PTC! Thank you! Omigoodness! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'd like to thank my Mom and Dad and my bosses and my fan club and the ponies and George Clooney! Thank you!

Winning may not be everything, but it sure is fun!

Day 34: Ode to a Canvas Tent

2009-06-19T23:01:00.001-07:00

You want to know what my favorite part about living in a tent is? Do ya? Well, I'll tell ya. It's RAIN. That's right, R – A – I – N. As in the stuff that is leaking through the peak of my tent and dripping right where my head would be if I was a good little Phil-staffer who actually went to bed at a decent hour on a Friday night. Guess it's a good thing I'm a rebel, eh, or I might be developing pneumonia as we speak. Actually, I just like the word pneumonia and I'm pretty proud of the fact that I spelled it all by myself without any help from Microsoft Word, thank you very much.

It has been raining pretty much non-stop since before the end of closing *cough* campfire at 8:30 this evening. And we're not talking any itsy bitsy, namby pamby, let-me-sprinkle-for-a-little-while-and-call-it-good rain, either. It's RAINING. You know, that constant, steady rhythm of entire oceans being emptied on your head. Danica, Dory, Valerie, Kristy and I had a dandy time tromping and stomping our way though the puddles on our way back to the tents, but if I thought I knew the meaning of soaked after that little escapade, I had another thing coming to me.

We just spent the last couple of hours in Smallfry – which is, being interpreted, a roofed building – watching the greatest cheesy movie of my entire life (don't hate me, but it's Top Gun), and I came back to find what looked like large, wet footprints down the middle of my tent floor. My first thought was, "Oh no, my tent has been infiltrated once again" – and yes, I did, as a matter of fact, use those exact words. But then the familiar sound of water torture registered in my brain and I realized that this was no line of thief-busting footprints, rather it was puddles. Of rain. Collecting from the drips running down my tent ceiling. Oh, goody.

So I quickly gathered up my things and moved them out of the way of the falling water bombs, but as I stacked things along the (so far) dry side of my tent, I thought, "What if it gets windy tonight, too?"

Because if it's not rain, there's one thing New Mexico is rather good at and that is WIND. It can be a perfectly beautiful, calm morning, and then suddenly your tent is gone. Not askew. Not flapping slightly. Gone. With no forwarding address. True story. It happened to me last week and several other people just this last Wednesday. Remind me to tell you about it sometime when you're older. The details are a little scary.

So yes. It's 11:53pm on Friday the 19^th of June, 2009, and I'd really like to be sleeping. But I can't, because right now, my pillow is busy trying to learn how to dog paddle.

Day 28: Long Time Gone

2009-06-13T08:38:00.001-07:00

So, here's the deal. I can either give you the truth, or I can make up some really great, really fantastical, really outrageous story about why I haven't written in two weeks (to the day).

You want the truth? Chicken….

The truth goes like so: exactly fourteen days ago, I was walking up to feed the ponies in the morning when the brightest light I've ever seen stopped me dead in my tracks. Like, literally. I couldn't move. I was frozen in place. And suddenly, I was flying! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry for my mommy, so I just kind of giggled really, really loud and scared-like.

I looked up to see if I could find the source of the light, and floating above me in the air was a terrifyingly beautiful conglomeration of precious metals and glowing thingies. And right in the middle was a tetrahedron of blinding white light I somehow couldn't turn my eyes from. Looking into that light made me feel like everything was going to be okay, so I stopped gigglescreaming and let the light lift me up to the opening.

Once inside, I was set gently down on a floor that looked like it was made out of marble streaked with purple gold. The floor was attached to silver walls that extended as far as I could see. 'Course, my eyes were still adjusting to the inside light, but whatever. I stood there for a moment or two, trying to decide whether to take a look around or stay put so I'd be easier to find by the search and rescue party and marveling at the incredibly bad interior decorating.

Before I could make up my mind, a door opened at the far end of the room and a man stepped through to approach me. He looked human, except for that whole transparent thing he had going on. He stood next to me and I could still see the door he had walked through – but I could see it through his left shoulder!

He started to speak, and I was so lost in the timbre of his voice that I completely missed what he was saying, which led to one of those really awkward moments like when you're dozing off in your high school history class and wake to find that the teacher hadn't actually asked you what color a platypus would paint his pool table.

Okay, now, I can see you're having trouble believing all this, but I'm telling you it's true. I am in New Mexico, so it's not like this is the first time something like this has happened.

Still, I guess I can give you the condensed version of the rest of the story. That, and I'm kind of tired of writing about it.

So, turns out his name is Salaaamisandwytch, and he has come to earth to pick up the mail-order bride he, well, ordered. Turns out USPS doesn't deliver to his planet, so he came to pick her up himself. He was on his way to Las Vegas (the New Mexico version) when he saw me and instantly fell in love. Apparently, on his planet, all the women are pretty shallow and substance-less. "I can see right through them," he told me. I didn't say anything to that. I didn't think it would be polite – or smart.

He asked me to stay for dinner, which apparently lasts for a looooooooooong time on his planet. Two hundred and thirty-seven courses later, the meal ended.

"It has been very romantic eating with you here tonight," he said. "I would like to do it again some time."

"Right," I told him. "Just give me a call."

He dropped me off at my tentflapstep and flew off into the night. I waited until his ship was out of sight, then I checked my watch to see that the dining hall would still be open. I've never been so hungry in my life.

I created quite a stir when I walked through the dining hall doors. I thought I had only been gone for a few hours, but apparently, I had been gone for two whole weeks and the world had moved on without me. People got over it pretty quick, though, when I told them where I had been.

"So, when are you going out with him again?" Danica and Kari asked me.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I don't know that I will. There really isn't anything to him."

And that, folks, is my story and I'm stickin' to it.

What's that? You want the outrageous story now? Oh, okay. If you insist.

My cover story went something like this: I had a week of training that was informative but not entertaining enough to write home about. Then I got busy feeding all of my new critters – Tam and Jet the sheep, Sable and Savannah the goats, and Ruth and Grace the chickens with their seven adopted chicks. Then program started and even if I had had time to write about week 1, I couldn't post it on The Big Idea because the internet up and had a tantrum when three hundred people all wanted to use it at the same time.

Anyways, I managed to wrangle up some phony pictures of all my critters to back that story up, and as always, you can see them in the ever incredible Jess' 2009 Philmont Photo Phalbum. I'd have put pictures of Salaaamisandwytch in there, too, but I'm afraid I didn't have my camera with me when he beamed me up, Scotty.

Due to the increased internet traffic during the week, I might have to stoop to updating only on the weekends when no one is around. If you've got a problem with that, take it up with the people who make my paycheck possible.

Piece, y'all.

Day 14: Beans and Cheese

2009-05-29T21:39:00.001-07:00

I got my burros!!!!

We had training all day today, so I fed the ponies this morning and said farewell for the day. Nearly eight hours later, Danica and Valerie asked if they could help me feed the ponies, so the three of us headed towards the pony ring. After we crawled through the gate I noticed two extra sets of eyes staring down the hill at us.

"I have burritos!" I cried, and we hurried up to meet them.

They are, by far, the cutest burros in the whole wide world. They're just little bitty things, really, and they look like twins. You can tell them apart by their blazes and by the white tip on one's tail, but other than that, they're pretty much identical. They even walk in step! I've named them Samson and Elliot.

The two of them were a little wary of these new strangers ooing and aahing over them, but they looked curious enough that I think they'll settle right in and be really nice for the kids.

I took some more friends up to see them after dinner and while we were admiring them, Samson let out the most pitiful little bray you ever did hear. He had to work himself up to it and let out a couple of huffs before he got going with the more, *cough*, "melodious" parts. He turned his cute little head towards me with the most precious "what in the world is going on?" look on his face and I could help but laugh. Life is rough, apparently.

Day 13: Out to Dry

2009-05-29T00:38:00.001-07:00

The sun has finally started to cooperate.

It has been raining almost non-stop for several days, and everything and everyone is soaked to the bone. We're not complaining, though – this area needs the rain. Maybe now my pasture will finally start to grow something edible.

I caught the ponies sunbathing during a rare break in the clouds yesterday morning and took advantage of the chance for some quality bonding/trust building time. KitKat didn't remain laying down for long with me near, but Nugget stayed put as I massaged her and she sighed contentedly as I rubbed her poll. See, sweetheart? Life isn't so bad.

Candy Corn was enjoying the sun so much that she laid flat out, almost grinning. Stripe got in a good back-scratching roll. Chaco all but snored while Tyson watched over everyone, and Butterscotch seemed downright peaceful. Come to think of it, he is a quieter pony these days. His demeanor in general is more serene: he hasn't tried to bite me at all and he's more than happy to comply with personal space rules now. It's quite nice, really. I'm all about having a critter who wants to be close to me when he's still respectful.

I spent the morning cleaning out the tack room and taking care of some other boring but important duties at the pony barn. The rain came again in the afternoon, so I took my handy dandy new rain coat for a test drive into Cimarron to get some hoof picks. A bunch of 4-H girls had cleaned out the tack store's supply so I didn't get my hoof picks, but I did find out the coat really is waterproof!

The rest of the rainy afternoon was spent painting identification signs for my garden plants. I'm also going to make some coloring/activity pages for the kids to work on when they're not riding or chasing critters, and then they'll have fun souvenirs to take home to remind them of that really really ridiculously fantastic Pony Wrangler they met at Philmont.

Today was a beautiful, sunny day – perfect for a long hike in the back country. The GLs (Group Leaders), COPE staff, and moi hiked ourselves to Window Rock, a cool rock named after the fact that it can be seen through a small, round window in the Villa Philmonte, Waite Phillips' mansion-turned-museum and my favorite building here at the ranch. The hike took us through some beautiful pine forests, past a small reservoir (where we saw some fishies jumping), up a mountain behind Cathedral Rock, and finally to the top of the world. Well, not really. There are much, much taller peaks on Philmont land, but the view was still spectacular. We had lunch up there in the shadow of some gargantuan rocks, where we enjoyed the cool breeze and gazed over God's Country.

By the time we got back to camp, we had hiked several miles and we were all pretty tired, so I fed the ponies (joined by Jenny, another good friend) and then sat in my tent and read until it was dinner time. We're back to eating in the PTC dining hall again, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me. Everything tastes better when you don't have to walk/drive over to CHQ.

I was going to say, "Maybe if I actually write more often, my posts won't have to be so long…", but this one is just as long as some of the others have. So pretty much, you're just going to have to get used to reading ridiculously long posts.

(P.S. By the way: Rather than post a billion photos of all the ridiculously cool things I get to do on a daily basis, I started another online photo album that I will keep updated as frequently as I update my blog so that any interested parties can take a gander and get really jealous of my awesome job. You can either watch the little slideshow to the left, just under the "about me" section, or you can click on it and it will take you to the album where you can peruse the pics at will. Enjoy, and try not to hate me too much.)

Day 11: How To Catch and Ornery Pony

2009-05-26T22:42:00.001-07:00

That's what you get for having a good weekend without us.

Pretty sure that's what KitKat and Nugget said to me today when I spent an hour trying to catch them. That, and "Naaa naNaaaaa naNaaaaaa Naaaaaaa!" Don't you believe for a second that they're skittish or still not used to The Way Things Are. It's all an act, a sham, a fraud. Today, they were just being a pain in the behindular muscles for kicks and giggles – only I wasn't giggling so much.

It all started last Tuesday when I decided it was Bath Time for my Pony Palios. Danica and Valerie, a new girl who is super nice and a good example of what Them Thar Mormons are supposed to be like, came up to help me, and we had a party. Chaco was afraid of the water "snake" but took it like a man. Butterscotch flipped out and all but took out the fence when he tried to rub the water off instead of letting the sun take care of it. Tyson was a perfect gentleman and Stripe only put up a little bit of a fuss. Candy Corn was a little antsy, but not too bad, and then it was time for the Psycho Psysters.

I've been working with them as much as I can, and they've started to settle down. Haltering them that day had been a piece of cake, and they stood quietly while I groomed them. I must admit I half suspected them of saving their explosives for the Big Bath Test.

But they actually weren't too bad. Nugget was antsy enough I was grateful for my long-range spray nozzle, but she never did anything more than pace back and forth. KitKat just looked scared the whole time but didn't try to stop me.

So since they all survived the ordeal, I decided to ride them. I had to wait until we had a dry day, which meant that Wednesday and Thursday were spent picking up trash in my pasture, collecting rocks for my garden's Rabbit Proof Fence, and helping bind Group Leader Handbooks and clean classrooms during the rainy afternoons. I had help every day from some pretty awesome people (like Danica, Valerie, Brenna and Steve), so my list of things to do before Program starts disappeared a lot faster than I expected. Sweet!

Friday was beautiful in the morning, so Danica came up to the ring to help me get those ponies "topped off", as the Wranglers call it.

Speaking of Wranglers – I owe Alicia an ode.

AliciaVanWagonerProvoUtah
Coolest real wrangler I ever did saw
She's not too cool for the rest of us folks
And deigns to give all of our heads loving strokes

Anyways, this time, I turned the game plan on its head and decided to do the crazy ones first rather that at the end. And whaddyaknow? KitKat was fine until Danica led us around the back turn down the home stretch and she could see Nugget. Even then, she just started getting a little pushy, so I got down and walked her for a bit in both directions until she calmed down.

Nugget, on the other hand, didn't give up any sort of a stink. She was perfect – like she'd done it a million times. See? I don't think she's nervous. I think she's just a stinker.

The whole time we were up there, I was paranoid that the wranglers were going to drive up to bring me a critter or two. Don't get me wrong, I want my critters (ask Alicia – I'm constantly harassing her to harass the head wranglers to get me my critters already…), but I would have been super embarrassed had they driven up while I was "riding." I can see it now: a bunch of seasoned cowboys find the Pony Wrangler mounted on a pony, sitting in a saddle that is waaaaaaaay too small for her butt, holding onto the horn simply because she has nothing better to do with her hands, and being led around the pony ring. Where's a camera when you need one? Just so long as the wranglers never see the picture…

In short (not really…), they passed. They've been doing really well when it comes time to catch them and halter them and tie them and groom them and everything else I've asked them to do, and I was starting to develop some confidence that they'd be the perfect addition to the Pony Program.

But then, I had a 3 day weekend, and a great one at that. A bunch of us (me, Alicia, Kari, Danica, Dan and Anton) went to Pizza Outback in Taos for dinner on Friday night, then to see a movie. Everyone else wanted to watch "Angels and Demons", but Danica and I went to see "Star Trek" instead.

And Yes. It was very good. Cover your eyes for the scene immediately following James T. Kirk's promise that he's going to go "study", but other than that, it's brilliant. Good job, Bad Robot.

Saturday was pretty low key. I woke up a little sick, so I kept to myself and did a lot of nothing. Sunday was beautiful and we got to have Sacrament meeting here at the Ranch. Elder Wilson challenged us to look for miracles every day, so if I start talking like Richard Thomas, that's why.

Memorial Day Monday was celebrated with the most unproductive trip into Cimarron that I've ever experienced. I needed to grab a couple of things from Cimarron West, the tack store in town, but they closed an hour before we left Philmont. Kari hoped to pick something up from an art gallery in town, but it hadn't arrived yet. And our final stop, The Cree Mee, was out of ice cream. So we returned to Philmont empty handed and empty stomached but happy nonetheless. A good two hours of a singing and dancing Christian Bale ("Newsies") rounded out the weekend quite nicely and left me ready to get back to work today.

But that all changed when Nugget and KitKat decided it was time to play the We're-Not-Gonna-Let-You-Touch-Us game again. Ugh…. After we had come so far…. Half-an-hour and two sprained joints later (have you ever tried to run in a pony pasture in boots?), I gave up and grumbled to myself about it for the rest of the morning and started planting my garden.

I spent the afternoon painting signs for the garden, which was incredibly therapeutic, so by the time I headed up to feed them their evening hay, I was a little less ticked at the two of them. And apparently they decided letting me touch them is worth it if food is involved, because they let me catch them this time.

See? It's only alligator tears.

Oh, and speaking of Alligators, it's time for the ode I promised Kari.

Wonderful cookies
Kari is a pastry chef
Wonderful cookies

(Look! It's cookie sandwich haiku!)

Day 3: And Getting Caught In the Rain

2009-05-19T23:36:00.001-07:00

It's all my fault.

I wanted to test the sprinkler I found in the tack room to see if it was something I could use in the garden I'm planting by the pony ring this year, so I ran a hose from the spigot by the big watering trough and had a party. The sprinkler works, but the reach of its spray is far too big for my little bitty garden plot, and since I'd rather not waste water, it looks like I'll have to resort to hand watering.

So I put the sprinkler away and went about my business, but the damage was already done. Five minutes before I left for lunch, it started to sprinkle, and by the time I reached the dining hall, it was an outright monsoon. Course, we live in New Mexico and it has been a dry spring, so this was actually a good thing and by "all my fault" I mean, "I saved the day."

Seriously, though, I think I'm an Inclement Weather Magnet. Every time I have moved to a new place, the locals all make it clear that "this is the wettest spring/summer/fall/winter/millennia we've had in a long time." And don't even get me started on the number of hurricanes I've left in my wake. I can't go to the beach without hurricanes destroying my hotel days after I leave. Look out Washington, I just visited the Pacific Ocean two weekends ago…

AAAAAaaaanyways, besides perfecting my urban rain dance, I've had a relatively quite couple of days.

Day Two was spent planting petunias with Kindergarteners from Cimarron Elementary School. The kids come every year to help beautify PTC, and they sure are fun to work with. I made friends with a couple of sweet 5 year olds who fought over who got to be last in line so they could stand by Miss Jess. Awwww. I'm flattered. After we finished planting, we took them on a hike on the nature trail, where I saw my first cholla cactus. Look out!

Once the kiddles got back on their bus, I went back to CHQ to finish becoming an official Philmont '09 staffer. I'll spare you the details, but it was nice to get everything done. Back at PTC, I fell of the face of the planet and had a quiet evening all by myself. I know, right? – L. A. M. E. I am such a social slacker sometimes. But I think I heard a wolf – it definitely wasn't yippy enough to be a coyote, and a suspected grey wolf has been spotted on Ted Turner's Vermejo Ranch, which is literally right next door.

Day Three was my first day at the Pony Barn and I used it to get things ready for the rest of my critters. I mended fences, pounded loose nails, realigned the rocks by the path from the gate, set up water troughs, and soaped saddles.

The ponies were very interested in everything I was doing – well, a few of them were, at least. Chaco tried to follow me into the tack room every time I went in and Tyson was always at my elbow watching and waiting for a good pat between his ears. Stripe busied himself with trying to get the door to the hay room open and I had to take a break from my other duties to find a way to foil him.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum were too hard to say when I was trying to get them to stop running long enough that I could test halter sizes, so they are now Nugget and KitKat, respectively. After twenty minutes of tag, I finally got the halters on and everyone was happy. Especially Chaco. Even though he's probably the easiest to catch, he ran right along with the crazy ones while I (and the rest of the ponies) just shook our heads and laughed. Alicia warned me that he was a little "special", and that proved it.

After a good long dinner-and-hang-out, I came back to my tent to officially move in. I've got a nice little home-y set up now, complete with great next-door neighbors like Kari and the deer that kept me up last night.

In closing – and since I promised – here are the goodies:

Deidre, your paragraph: Deidre is cool. She is a wrangler. She has brown curly hair, likes to dance, and can flatten me in 3 seconds or less even though I'm bigger than her. She rides English and I've seen pictures of her jumping. She has a brother who is also a wrangler here at Philmont. She is from Ellenois. Deidre is my friend.

Ode to Anton:

Oh, Mantonio Banderas
You are far too cool to discuss
You act as a gent
Walk me to my tent
And for that I'll give you an A plus!

Ode to Dan Sandri:

Dan Sandri, you lent me your Wubby
To keep me warm when it's freezing at night
You still talk to me when I am grubby
And truth is, I think you're alright!

Any more requests?

Oh yes, pictures...

Pictures

2009-05-19T23:26:00.001-07:00

Pony in front is Chaco, with Tyson (grey), Stripe (bay) and Candy Corn way in the back.

This is KitKat and Nugget in a rare moment of non-runningawayness.

...

I think something is outside my tent...

Day 1 1/2: To the Point

2009-05-17T15:06:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, my family watched this cute little Christian film called Fireproof. It wasn't bad, actually, but my favorite part was the special features spoof, "Fireproof in 60 seconds", which summed up the whole movie in – you guessed it – a minute. Instant classic, I tell you what.

I've been here for less than 24 hours and already, Philmont is doing her dandiest to give me a "Summer #1 in 60 seconds" recap on all the reasons I love this place.

Dad drove me to the airport early yesterday morning to catch a 7:40am flight to Denver, where I waited for two hours before boarding a flight to Albuquerque. There, I met the Shuttle Van driver and a bunch of other Phil-staffers. I was the only girl (besides the driver) to seven guys, and it was a mostly quiet drive to Cimarron as we all tried to sleep off our airplane induced aches and pains. When we reached Springer, I was too excited to do any more sleeping and got increasingly giddy the closer we got to the Ranch. I kept it all in, of course. Can't have these Ranger and Commissary boys thinking the Pony Wrangler is crazy. Not yet.

So the really nice shuttle driver dropped us off at CHQ (Camping Head Quarters, for you non-Philmonters) around 5:00. I checked in at the administration building, where I was glad to see Derek and Dom, friends from the first summer. Elder Wilson was there, too, and he got in the first tease of the summer – "Oh, it's Jess who's giving us all the trouble," he said, referring to the extra paper work required by my two-days-earlier-than-originally-planned arrival. I do my best.

Everything was fine and dandy until I remembered just how far PTC (Philmont Training Center) is from CHQ when you're carrying a pack and a computer bag and dragging a wheelie suitcase. I got about a hundred feet into my little trek before the thought crossed my mind that I never would have made it as a pioneer. A nice girl who is new to Philmont this year offered to help me, but I was too prideful to accept. Stupid. Turns out she was headed to dinner at the PTC dining hall, though, so she walked with me and we had a nice chat. Actually, she chatted and I tried to form coherent sentences between my huffs and puffs.

I finally made it to the PTC office, caught up with Charlotte and Greg and got my tent assignment - #35. Sweet. Except for the part where it was the absolute furthest tent away from where I was currently catching my breath. Sigh… I guess I need the exercise. Just when I thought I was going to die, I reached the tent, threw my stuff in, freshened up a little and joined Charlotte and Elder Wilson for my first dinner in the Dining Hall in 20 ½ months. Yum… sort of.

Just as I was leaving, I found Dan, one of my bestest friends from Summer Numero Uno. He was sitting with a bunch of other really cool people – a friend of his from school (Anton), last year's Pony Wrangler (Alicia – also LDS!), and another wrangler (Diedra), and the five of us plus two other wranglers (Ellen and "Gwynevere") spent the rest of the evening hanging out and getting to know each other. I love making new friends!

Anton was kind enough to walk me back to my tent in the dark because I didn't have a flashlight, and we promptly discovered a critter staring us down. We don't know what it was, but its eyes were glowing back at us, reflecting the light from Anton's headlamp, and it took me a long time to psych myself up for a quick dash to the bathroom after Anton dropped me off.

When I came back to my tent, I had trouble sleeping. It was Fuh-Reeeeezing. My sleeping bag is rated to zero degrees and even though I was essentially wearing two pairs of pjs, I still couldn't get warm enough. But whilst I was tossing and turning, I overheard an owl and an elk yelling at each other. It was quite entertaining once I got past that whole I'm-trying-to-sleep thing. No biggie. Y'all just carry on. Don't worry about me.

This morning dawned bright and beautiful and HOT in my tent. Already? It was well into the summer before I started sweating myself awake last time I was here… I missed breakfast so I could feed my ponies, who are also earlier this year. I still have Butterscotch, Stripe, and Candy Corn. Rootbeer is AWOL, Pal died over the winter (L), and I have four newbies – White Tyson, Chaco, and the inseperable Tweedledee and Tweedledum. I'll try to post pictures this week. It's hot and I'm too lazy to go take some right now.

Anyways, LDS chapel services don't start until next week, so I hitched a ride to the ward in Raton with two other LDS staffers and fellow BYU Cougars, Mallory and Danika. Church was great – I love the Raton ward, and three of the Relief Society Sisters volunteered their sons for marrying us. I'm game.

On the way home, a brainless pronghorn decided it would be a good idea to run in front of Mallory's car. And when it reached the other side of the road, it ran for its life – right back into the road in front of us! Kate told me once that a pronghorn's behindular areas enlarge when they are frightened, but I couldn't tell whether this one's derrière was gargantuan because it was scared or because it was six inches from the front bumper. When it finally got a clue, it ran towards the field on the right side of the road. And "got a clue" is only partially true – rather than jump over the fence, it crawled under the barbed wire on its belly. Sometimes I wonder about those quadrupeds…

Back at my tent, I encountered another pronghorn. I'm guessing it might have been the critter with the glowing eyes the night before – the blank stare kind of gives it away. It – she, it was a doe – was wandering around by the workshop past my tent and then walked up towards the pony ring. I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture through the screen window in the side of my tent before she disappeared.

And that, friends, is my first day and a half back at Philmont. All this adventuring calls for a celebration – or a nap…

I See Where I Get It From

2009-04-22T09:53:00.001-07:00

My grandfather, John Wesel, had a stroke when I was still a little girl. I have very few memories of Grandpa, and since most of those come from after his stroke, you could say I never really knew him. I have learned facts about him from what my mother and her siblings and Grandma have told me, but facts only get you so far when you're building a relationship.

I recently came across some old family photos and decided to scan them all so I had copies of them - and so I could make myself look like one of those people who gets really excited about genealogy even though I'm not. Two days and over 300 pictures later, I suddenly knew why people get so enthusiastic about this stuff.

Of those 360 photographs, probably 200 are of a side of Grandpa that I never saw. He was an actor with the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute Players, built a boat with the Sea Scouts, and actively participated in Hiking, Ski, and Jiu Jitsu Club activities. He built a glider plane. He was a brilliant man who helped invent many of the things we take for granted.

But more than that, he was funny. As I sorted through these pictures, I could hardly see for the tears in my eyes as I laughed and laughed and laughed. There are pictures of him dancing in the hallway in his undies, hanging from a tree like a monkey, and holding a bag of KFC chicken while sporting a very Colonel Sanders-like goatee, always with his trade-mark, unlit and unstuffed pipe gripped in one corner of his impish grin. The captions on the back of photos he mailed to Grandma during their courtship are silly and poke just enough fun at himself to show he had a solid, down-to-earth sense of humor.

He died on Thanksgiving Day when I was eleven years old. Some people might let that ruin a great holiday - and it certainly wasn't a good day that year - but now, it helps me remember him and to be grateful for his legacy. And this year, I have even more things to make me smile when I think of my grandfather.

Like the look on his face when he pretends to swing a bat at the back of poor, unsuspecting Jim's head.

Same River Twice

2009-03-13T14:20:00.001-07:00

This morning, I went out to feed the critters and felt like I was somewhere I wasn't. The sun is starting to get its color back after shedding the bluer tones of its winter coat, and it seemed to gently touch everything it could reach as if to say, "I'm coming. Just a few more weeks and I'll be home." Its winter sojourn along the lower edges of the sky has left it ready to rise and warm me as I step off the back stairs and shuffle through the new grass to the hay stack, trailed by Kitty. The breeze rose up to meet it and suddenly, I was back at Philmont, headed up to the Pony Ring for an early morning feeding before I ventured to the PTC dining hall to fill my own belly with scrambled eggs and chorizo.

To be honest, there's probably good reason that Philmont came to mind so quickly. Besides the fact that it's my second favorite place in the whole world (Dotty Lake being the first), P-town has been on the brain ever since I found out that I've been hired back for another summer as The One, The Only Philmont Pony Wrangler.

I'm excited beyond words (and relieved to finally have a job - at least for the summer), and a little nervous. They say you can't go home again because it's never the same, and this peculiar apprehension has kept me from attempting another year of *NCCC or returning to jobs and places I once loved. But the thing about Philmont is that its greatness far outweighs any risk of associated side effects, so I know that no matter what happens, I am going to have a great summer.

Don't you just love how things always seem to fall into place just when you don't know what you're going to do?

One Thing There Is Just Too Little Of

2009-02-26T18:57:00.001-08:00

It is incredible what a little bit of love can do to a creature.

We have a habit of acquiring stray animals - especially cats. It comes with the territory, I suppose, as most places even remotely farm-like tend to have an abundance of stray kitties running around. We've had our fair share just since moving into this house, and it's driving the dogs nuts. Even Smidgen the Siamese doesn't know what to do about the riffraff hanging around outside her palace door begging for food.

But she'll have to get over it, because I like it.

A few months ago, a beautiful black and white female wandered into our yard and wanted nothing to do with us. She was incredibly independent and capable, and any attempts to develop a friendship with her were avoided like the plague. But when my favorite outdoor feline, Sparrow, met an untimely demise, she discovered his uneaten food on our back steps and took advantage of the situation. Hopeful that she'd stick around and keep the hay stack mouse-free, we kept feeding her. The trick worked, and for weeks, we enjoyed a peaceful yet distant relationship. She'd stay just out of reach as we dropped some kibbles, then skip away as soon as she was done.

Until the day she ventured closer. I instinctively reached out a hand and rubbed her back, and she didn't shy away. The spell, at last, was broken. At first, she retained some of her wild attitude and would make it clear when we weren't petting her correctly, but she seemed to enjoy it for the most part. As the weeks since then have passed, she has grown increasingly friendly and will now come visit just for the sake of a good chat.

Yesterday, when I finished putting Mo away after a good bareback ride, Kitty snuck along the fence and climbed down my shoulder to my arms, where she settled in just like a tame cat would. She stayed that way, feet tucked in and head resting on my arm as I finished helping Mom with the chores, and when it was finally time to go in, I gently let her down and she walked away as if what had just transpired between us was completely normal.

It's amazing what a little bit of love can do to a creature.

Boxer Revolution

2009-02-18T17:22:00.001-08:00

I have decided that anyone who doesn't know a Boxer doesn't know laughter. Seriously, there is nothing funnier than these dogs, expecially ones named Penny Byam.

I spent the weekend alone while Mom and Pop went to Spokane to listen to little sister Harmony sing in the Jazz Choir at the All Northwest Music Educators Conference. She was the only student selected from Idaho's Treasure Valley to sing in the 24-person choir and there's good reason for it - she's the best. And I'm not just saying that because she's my sister. She is. Apparently, my parents were prophetic when they named their third daughter because, unlike Alicia Keys, her name really was musical right from the very start.

Anyways, I stayed home to take care of the critters and any self-pity at being left behind was quickly squelched when Penny the Boxer decided to get the party started. We played Tug-O-War with her purple monkey, went on an adventure (CAR RIDE!!!!!!) with Corky the Jack Russell (*cough* wannabe), explored the farm off leash, chased the cat and roosters, ate something foul and puked it up on the kitchen floor, basked in the warmth of the sun coming in through the back door, danced for our supper and played Hide-N-Go-Seek. No kidding. Our dog plays Hide-N-Go-Seek, which makes her infinitely cooler than any dog that doesn't.

If you want to feel good about yourself when you walk through your door after a long day, get a Boxer. One look at that mug and you'll forget there's anything in the world that isn't funny.

P.S. Here's Penny in Action:

Relief

2009-02-04T18:11:00.000-08:00

Update for all of you who care: Yes, I did, as a matter of fact, ride today. And yes, as a matter of fact, I am glad that I did. It was glorious!

This picture is not, however, from today. There is snow on the ground right now, though this string of delightful weather we have been having is causing it to melt and everything even remotely earth-ish is quickly turning into sticky, sticky mud. Random fact: I love mud. I love how it feels beneath my boots as I wade through it to bring the horses in from the "pasture", how it sticks to my feet as I walk so that I leave with a ball of mud growing out of the bottom of my leg. I love the squishing sound it makes and that giggle-inducing slurrrrrr*POP* when I actually manage to pull my foot free from its swamp monster grasp. I love looking back over the concrete surface I've just traversed and knowing exactly where I walked for the footprints I've left behind me. I even love the feel of it between my fingers, like the clay Kate, Harmony and I would pull from the lakebed next to the dock at the Cabin in Ontario. We'd fashion it into little clay figurines and leave it to dry and harden on the dock, where it would soon crumble or get knocked back into the water the next time somone decided to do a cannon ball. *sigh*

Am I strange for having such a love affair with such an underappreciated phase of matter?

The ride, as I mentioned, was glorious. We (Mom went, too) didn't get to ride for long , but it was such a nice day that I suggested we not waste it riding in the arena. So we headed up a little dirt road to an old, abandoned farm and tooled around back there for a bit. The pigeons, as always, came shooting out of the old white barn like they were being attacked, and Lady and Mo enjoyed a few mouthfuls of the green grass that is already starting to grow where the snow has melted and the mud is undisturbed. Walking back, the boxer in one of the yards we passed stopped barking long enough to push her black nose against a knothole in the wooden fence, sniffing away like the scents we carried could answer the problems of the world.

The mud, the sunshine, the old white barn with its crazy pigeons and a silly boxer - everything looks better and clearer from the back of a horse. I felt more whole than I have since the last time I rode and all I can say about that is, "Why didn't I do this sooner?"

Excuse Me, Miss, But I'm Pathetic

2009-02-03T16:57:00.001-08:00

I don't know why I make these excuses. Maybe I think I'm being "responsible" or "realistic", but the truth is, I honestly have no idea.

It was such a beautiful day today - the first in a long, long time. The sun was out, it was actually warm, and as I drove home from the High School after helping Harmony and her friends film something for her AP Government class, I thought, "I should ride. Today is a beautiful, ride worthy day. Mo won't even be muddy so grooming will be a breeze, and I can throw that saddle up on his back and ride in the warm sunshine." Sounds divine, right?

So why why why why why didn't I do it? Who in their right mind would pass up an opportunity like that? I want to cry just thinking about it and the foolishness behind it all. What was I thinking? I am disgusted with myself.

And the scary part is that it's been happening a lot lately. I'm still jobless and therefore unfettered, but I can't seem to convince myself to get out and ride. What? Convince myself? Like it's a hassle? Please! This is the one thing that brings me more joy than anything - anything - else in the whole world. I am never truly alive as when I am with a horse. I forget who I really am until I put my feet in the stirrup, settle into the saddle and pick up the reins. There is something about being with these animals that makes me understand things about life that I can't understand when it's just me.

So why don't I do it? Why do I let things like "I have to clean my room" or "I haven't done ______ yet" get in the way? Responsibility? Those things get done even when I do ride, so why do I let myself imagine they won't? I can't tell you, and it frustrates me. Maybe if I could put it into words, I would know how to solve this problem. But I don't know why, so I don't know what to do about it.

I am riding tomorrow. Rain, snow, sleet, hail, hurricane, earthquake, tsunami, the world explodoing - none of it is going to keep me from getting in the saddle. No excuses.

Checkmate

2009-01-17T11:58:00.001-08:00

I DID IT!

The night after I wrote my last post, I played chess and WON. I beat the opponent. Soundly. I could hardly believe my eyes.

To celebrate, and to fulfill a long overdue promise to "not be a stranger", I went back to visit Lucky Run Ranch. Of my human friends, only Francisco was there and I was pleased with the Spanish I managed to remember as I spoke with him. And as I went around the barn to give "hello, it's me again" pats to all my equine buddies, I was flattered with the recognition I noticed in their eyes. Dear sweet Muppet and Ali Bey stood at their stall doors long after I had moved on, asking for more love that I wish I'd had time to give them. When Cody discovered me at his stall door, he came over and rested his chin on my shoulder as he always used to do with a look in his eye that was easy to anthropomorphize into "Where have you been? I missed you." And Vyking didn't even try to bite me! Goodness, I miss those critters... People who don't know horses don't know life.

Blue Da Ba Dee Da Ba Die

2009-01-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

It's January. I always get restless in January.

The weather has been reflecting my mood lately - not miserable or depressed, just a bit hazy. The fog settled on Tuesday and stayed, making the days blend together until I can't remember when exactly I did the things I've kept busy with. I feel like I'm on autopilot except that would imply control and that is something I definitely don't have over my own life right now. I'm not complaining, just making truthful statements.

I had a nice conversation the other day with a cousin I haven't been able to speak to in a while and she harassed me for not having kept my promise to update my blog more often. Honestly, I thought I would have more to say - you all know me, I always have something to say - but since my internship has ended, my life has been surprisingly quiet. I did actually write up something I wanted to post on The Big Idea - but when I finished it was 5 pages and way too long to bore you all with. It's the end product of a spiritual principle I'd been mulling over for a week or so, and if you'd really like to read it, you have my permission.

Other than writing ridiculously long, somewhat incoherent, ponderous essays, I've done some reading and job hunting, but not enough to describe in creative detail.

Oh! Of course! The RESOLUTIONS.

1. Run a 5k by the end of the year
2. Post for Illustration Friday at least once a month
3. Update my blog every week
4. Secure a good job
5. Pay off my little student loan
6. (Legally) Win a game of chess
7. Finish my book

It's funny how as I get older and more "experienced", my resolutions become more *cough* mature. No more "Get a pony" or "Make a Million Dollars". Except for that last one, "Finish my book" - I've said that for the last 10 years and really only keep it on there out of habit/tradition. We all know I'll never actually finish it.

Okay. That's enough. This ridiculousness must end.

Snow Angels

2008-12-16T16:26:00.001-08:00

The storm broke on Saturday, twenty-four hours after the meteorologists had predicted.

I went to work that morning for the last time, braved the cold to turn the horses out, and said twenty-five almost-but-not-quite tearful goodbyes to the people and critters that have made my days so enjoyable for the past 14 weeks. As I brought the last of the horses, Lucky, back from his shrink (the outdoor arena), I couldn't help but reflect on this adventure I've had. I've faced everything - colic, puncture wounds, threats to my life by an aggressive stallion and a little gelding who thinks he's something special, ice in water buckets, unexplained setbacks on the website, and - just this week - horses magically getting loose from their outdoor pens and jumping dangerous barbed wire fences. Man... What do you call an obsession which brings equal parts frustration and reward? If I didn't love this so much, it wouldn't be worth it.

But it is worth it, and I do love every minute of every day that I get to spend around these magnificent animals. I feel truly blessed that the Lord opened a door and allowed me to work in the equine industry, even if it is for only a moment. He's pretty nice to me. The challenges I've faced working with these horses and the others that have graced my life have taught me more about life, love, commitment and success than I could ever express in words.

And with the end of my internship also comes the end of my college career. I turned in my two final papers last night and just received a confirmation email from my professor, which came as a gentle pinch to remind me that no, I am not dreaming. This is real. I am a university graduate.

So I left work, took a shower and went shopping with Mom and Harmony for new Christmas dresses. While we were hunting for the perfect one (which I found in the first store we entered...), it began to snow. As I watched the flakes fall and cover the ground with fluffy whiteness, I thought of how appropriately it mirrored my own life. A chapter in my book is ending, but I have been given a fresh new start, a field of unbroken whiteness to do with as I please. It's inspiring, sure, but ultimately intimidating.

Moving Furniture

2008-12-03T11:25:00.000-08:00

I know a lot of women who, when they start craving change in their lives, set to rearranging their living rooms.

Not me, though - I don’t own any furniture (one of the perks or pitfalls of living with your parents during that frustrating time between graduating college and finding a job in this depressed market). So, since I don’t have any couches or coffee tables to move – or the time to move them even if I did – I redesign my blog. Ta da! But don’t get comfortable with it just yet because I’m liable to determine that I don’t like the couch by that window and I don’t have enough light to read by when I sit in that chair. You have been forewarned.

I’ve finished my last GE course via independent study, I have less than two full weeks left at my internship, and I’m about to embark on the next big adventure in my life (as soon as I figure out what it is...). And with these changes coming, I’ve decided to make a New Year Resolution a little early. I wish that I had been better about writing during college, Philmont, my internship at Lucky Run, and all the other little adventures that have filled the gaps over the past few years since I started this thing. I already write faithfully in my journal, but since that doesn’t do you guys any good, I’m going to try to add to The Big Idea more often – even if it means typing up what I’ve written in my journal.

So speaking of change, let me tell you all about my four-legged friends who hate it and the crew that takes care of them... change that is. They hate change, not the crew that takes care of them....

Ready? Set? Go. (Click on the photo below to open the photo album in a new window, and make sure to read the captions.)

Lucky Run Ranch

Thanks For Your Opinion

2008-11-27T16:14:00.001-08:00

This kid might want to get a second opinion - from Mom!

Here's my IF post for the week. Sorry it's so dark - I am scanner-less at the moment and had to take a picture of it with my digital camera.

And speaking of Moms and Dads and digital cameras and Thanksgiving, I'd just like to list a couple of things I'm grateful for today (in no specific order):
Mom
Dad
Kate
Harmony
Jedediah
Penny
Corky
Lady
Mo
Toby
Smidgen
6 chickens
Grammas
Grampas
Aunts
Uncles
Cousins
Cousin-in-Laws
Cousins' kids
Friends
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
The Book of Mormon
The Bible
Brigham Young University
Philmont Scout Ranch
Lucky Run Ranch
Watercolor pencils
Art teachers
Prophets
Apostles
People who act according to their beliefs
Christmas
My Heavenly Father
Jesus Christ
The Holy Ghost
Earth, and all its bounties!

Happy Thanksgiving to all - and enjoy the holidays!

Elevage de Boise website

2008-11-10T11:40:00.000-08:00

Just a heads up to let the world know that my first ever official website (meaning that I designed everything and didn't rely on a template to make it look good) is up and running! Well, at least the basic site is. I still have a lot of pictures to add and some pages to add content to, but all the important stuff is there. Take a look at www.elevagedeboise.com!

As for the rest of my life, I'll write when I have time to breathe....

Always Right

2008-09-12T18:36:00.001-07:00

So, sometimes God says, "Hey, Jess, I think you should be here for the next little while." To which I most often reply, "No way, not happening. You can't make me."

And I'm right - He can't make me. But he can make it really difficult to do anything else. Like the time when He made it so that all of my potential jobs over the last 15 months fell through for any number of reasons, then allowed me to choose whether or not to take the job at a Four Diamond Resort in California where the only available housing is co-ed. He knows I'm a gal of my word and won't go against the BYU Honor Code.

But lest you think I'm bitter and feel that God forced me to stay here in Idaho, let me tell you what happened next: He opened a door.

He knows as well as I do how badly I wanted to work in the horse industry and how much I've struggled with the I'm-LDS-so-I-won't-work-on-Sunday issue. Time after time, I'd tell potential employers that I am more than happy to feed/water on Sundays, but that I believed that anything beyond that was not keeping the Sabbath Day holy, and time after time, they'd respond with a laugh and "Good luck finding a job then, Kid." And let me tell you, a year of this sort of thing can really get to a gal.

So I'd just about given up and I'd branched out in my searching. But still, nothing.

Until my dear mother made a phone call that would change my life. There is a family in Kuna who own a large boarding/training/events facility and their son goes to my parent's ward. (That's right: they're LDS!) She had been wanting to call him all summer to ask about the possibility of an internship, but never could quite bring herself to do it and didn't know why. Now, suddenly, she could - and she did. He sounded excited about the idea and said he'd talk to his mother, the Barn Boss. In a matter of days, I had secured an internship at the incredible Lucky Run Arena in Kuna, Idaho.

And get this: they felt like I was an answer to their prayers, too! Mom's call came right when they found out they needed some extra help around the farm!

It has been four days since I started at Lucky Run Arena, and I am loving every bit of it - even the spider sweeping. I have already learned a lot, and the people there have been so wonderful to me! I don't have to worry about Sundays, I don't have to live in co-ed housing (unless you count my dad), and I get to work with horses!

So the next time God says, "Hey, Jess, I think you should be here for the next little while," I think I'll listen.

Pet Peeves

2008-03-27T19:44:00.000-07:00

Tada! I've finally finished my first picture for Illustration Friday! And talk about leaving it to the last minute - they change the topic in a couple of hours...

I don't really have many pet peeves, so it took me a while to think of one. The only one I could come up with was bad parking jobs, and this is what it turned into in my brain. Enjoy! (click on it to make it bigger so you can read what he's saying)

Here's To My Health

2008-03-25T13:06:00.000-07:00

Since many of you may not be aware of the latest development in the long line of Jess' health issues, I thought I'd post the news on here so we're all on the same page. It appears that my motor skills are regressing so that I frequently find myself having trouble with certain tasks most people take for granted, such as eating, drinking, speaking, and walking. The symptoms have been present for a long time, but are just now beginning to become an issue. In the past week, I have dropped several stacks of books or other library items while at work, spilled water all over the front of my shirt, soiled my mother's new table cloth when a piece of butter fell off my fork, run into the corners of tables and cupboards, tripped down a flight of stairs three stairs high, missed door handles so that I have to use my face to open aforementioned doors, said multiple stupid things, and stepped on the heels of the person walking in front of me.

Concerned by such a decline in my gross motor skills, I did some investigating and have located what I believe is the root of the problem. Although I have not been officially diagnosed, I appear to suffer from a condition called accidentopronus doltzopatheticalus.

In other words, I'm a clutz.

Duck Rugby

2008-02-12T19:49:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like a duck to make your day better.

I spent all day on campus. You think I'm joking - I would too, if I weren't me - but it's true. I spent it going to classes and studying and failing a test. And to make myself feel better, I walked down to the botany pond with a friend, where we laughed at the ducks running around like they were in the middle of a rugby scrum. They were chasing after each other with pieces of bread larger than their heads. I got a video of it. It's at the bottom...

This one time, we had a pet gosling. The elders serving in our ward in Michigan found it walking down a busy street right near some construction workers. They didn't want it to get hurt and since they couldn't find its mom or pop anywhere near, they brought it to us. We have lots of animals, so everyone brings us more. That's how we got a squirrel once, too. His name was Perri and he was this ridiculously cute, fuzzy gray thing that was climbing up our neighbor's pant leg while he was trying to work in the yard. So he gave it to us, which led to another baby squirrel joining him when we let him out front for a potty break, which meant we had two baby squirrels. And then my sister got bitten by a crazy adult squirrel on her way home from school and we all had a good laugh.

But I digress. Gosling, back to the gosling. His name was Jonah even though he wasn't a whale, and he lived in my bathroom for a few days. Jonah and I got pretty close. Whenever I'd go into the bathroom to do the various things you do in a room like that, he would come quacking over and sit on my bare feet. When I'd walk, he'd surf, and so it was that we explored the expanses of my water closet. And when I'd take a shower, he'd quack quack quack and throw himself against the glass door of the shower stall until I'd let him in to play in the water. I've never felt such avian love.

The moral of this story is that I love waterfowl and there aren't many other things that make me laugh quicker than a duck trying to swallow a piece of bread the size of his mother.

The end. Except for the video part.

Can You Tell Me How To Get (How To Get) To Sesame Street?

2008-01-11T16:00:00.000-08:00

I read an article recently that claimed Sesame Street had traumatized the children of my generation. I don’t remember now which news website featured it or even who wrote it, but I remember it claimed that by putting together a giant yellow bird that hallucinated, two men sharing an apartment, a monster with an addiction, a vagabond living with trash and anger management problems, and a grocery store manager that was overly friendly towards neighborhood children, the show had created a recipe for confusion and disturbance in the mental state of those of us now entering adulthood.

To that, I have only one word to say and it starts with: “Bologna.” Sesame Street did not traumatize me. It supplemented my dear mother’s reading lessons, helped me appreciate fine literature, and taught me to recycle. Probably the worst thing Sesame Street did to me was to confuse me when it comes to math – I still have trouble remembering that it really isn’t vun, two, three.

Now contrast this with other kid’s shows of the era, like “Ren and Stimpy”, “X-Men” or “Animaniacs”. Sesame Street’s feel-good values are touted as trauma inducing, yet crude humor, violence, and downright disrespect towards elders are acceptable? I’m not trying to say anything negative about those who do enjoy those shows, but I think a certain number noshing vampire would agree with me when I say that things aren’t quite adding up.

My point in all of this is to show the difference between what I personally label “appropriate media” and “inappropriate media”. We are counseled by church leaders to “choose only entertainment and media that uplift you” (For the Strength of Youth, 2001). Such media will, they continue, “help you to have good thoughts and make righteous choices. It will allow you to enjoy yourself without losing the spirit of the Lord.” Even with the obnoxious little red monster, Sesame Street is about making right choices (is the circle blue or yellow?), treating each other nicely, and taking care of the earth. If that doesn’t fit into the “anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy” category, then maybe I’m more confused that I thought (Article of Faith 13).

Vun, two, three.

(This is part of a paper I wrote for my Family Recreation class - a paper which got me one of the greatest compliments of my life when my professor said, "Jess, you are a fabulous writer. I was laughing out loud when I read this and my husband came down to find out what I was laughing at!" Joy!)

Be Smart

2007-09-21T12:09:00.001-07:00

You’ve heard it a million times, I’m sure – that old cliché that reminds us that you never realize how much you love something until you lose it. I would like to edit that a little for my own personal uses to say that you never realize how much you love something until you might lose it. How often do we take things for granted until something just threatens to take it away from us? How many of the wonderful things in our lives are still in our lives because they were once threatened and we fought to hold onto them?

I am ashamed to admit that there was a time when I didn’t want to go to school. I couldn’t fathom the idea of sitting in boring lectures for four more years just to get a piece of paper that says “Yay, you just sat through four years of boring lectures!” What a terrible attitude!

But here I am, starting my second to last semester of my university career and thinking about everything that I’ve learned over the past four years, and I realize how blessed I have been. That piece of paper I will get in a few months (hopefully…) means so much more to me now. It’s not just something that congratulates me for completing what I had to do, it’s a symbol of the many, many things I have experienced and learned while here at BYU, both in the classroom and out. It’s a representation of the lasting friendships I have made, the opportunities classes have given me, the hours spent volunteering and participating on campus. It’s a reminder of the sacrifices others have made so that I could be here, so that I could get an education that will enable me to go out and make the world just a little better.

I have to confess, though, that this change of heart actually came about because I suddenly faced the possibility of having to postpone graduation. The world has a way of bringing reality into focus exactly when you’re starting to think that those lovely, dream-like fields of pansies are where life is truly taking you, and it’s always a shock to find out that they aren’t. But like I said earlier, there’s nothing like a threat to make you hold on to something you cherish, even if you don’t realize until that moment that you do cherish it.

President Hinckley told us to get an education. He said, “You need all the education you can get… sacrifice anything that is needed to be sacrificed to qualify yourselves to do the work of the world” (Way to Be, 25).

I’m going to fight for what matters to me, no matter the sacrifice.

10 Days

2007-08-13T15:55:00.000-07:00

So here I am, ten days from the end of my Philmont Career, and I can't believe it's almost over. This summer has been incredible - I've learned a ton and made so many friends that it's making the thought of leaving almost unbearable. Of course, the fact that all of my friends leave a few days before I do means leaving will be a little easier, but it's not just friends I'm leaving behind. Philmont is beautiful. To everyone out there reading this, I issue this command: GO TO PHILMONT, even if it's just to drive through it and see how gorgeous it is. Go now. All the cool kids are doing it.

I'll post more pictures soon. I'm saving my last few rolls of film for developing until after I get back to school on the 24th.

Oh, and P.S. On the 28th, I'm going to a concert. A Josh Groban concert. :)

And the winner is...

2007-07-03T15:01:00.000-07:00

You! And as your prize, you get to look at all of my lovely lovely pictures and wonder why everything I have written is underlined (because I know I sure do...)

This is Stripe. He is called Stripe because he has a big white stripe on his hindquarters.

This is Rootbeer. He is crazy. Don't let that innocent exterior fool you - he's off his little pony rocker.

This is the Villa Philmonte, Waite and Genevieve Phillips' summer home on the ranch. It is beautiful!

And here we have Jack and Bonita. These burros like to complain loudly about how sad their lives are, but in reality, they've got it made. They get little kids loving on them all day long, and I'm pretty nice to them, too.

Binti and Baby are goats. The little kids think they are deer, but I promise they're goats.

Candy Corn is our only female pony and the male ponies all think she's something else. She thinks she's something else, too.

Beware of Butterscotch. He's a killer.

Stella, the Momma Sheep, is protective of Billy, the Baby Sheep, except for when I bring food. Then she doesn't like anyone, and she moos at anyone who comes close. I'm not even kidding. Most sheep baaa, right? She MOOs.

For part of my Pony Wrangler Training, I got to go to Western Lore Day with the other wranglers and back country camp people. They taught us how to rope, and showed us how to brand. Fun times!

This is what I get to look at every day from up at the pony corral. I have a really rough job.

Bonita again. She is very shy, but really likes being scratched behind her ears.

Ashley is my tentmate. She makes me laugh really hard. Taos is a cat. She makes me sneeze.

Just kidding.

Me jumping off the zip line tower at our C.O.P.E. course. It looks like I jumped of my own free will and choice, but the truth is, they told me if I didn't jump, I'd die up there from lack of oxygen.

A group of us went to Taos on one of our days off and went to see the Bridge Over the River Large (Rio Grande). It was gorgeous, but I have to admit I was a little afraid that the 70 mph winds were going to pick us up and throw us over the railing!

Julia, Monica and Ashley proving that it really is windy and I'm not just making it up.

The Lovely Tooth of Time, Philmont's rocky mascot. It is an igneousintrusionofdaciteporphyry-
formedinthetertiaryperiod-
twenty-twotofotymillionyearsago...
today! Happy Birthday, Tooth of Time!

Buffalos! Philmont has a large (140 head) herd of free roaming Buffalo. Every year, 35 of are eaten by Philmont participants and staff. The other 105 are eaten by the Pony Wrangler.

Lady Cluck is a chicken who thinks she's a chicken. She even lays eggs to prove it.

Pal is a pony with a huge head. Just kidding. His head isn't really that huge, but it sure does look like it, doesn't it?!

So there you have it. If you want more pictures, just let me know and I'll either put some more up or tell you you're out of luck.

Two Weeks Later...

2007-05-26T21:26:00.000-07:00

And I still love it here! I'm making tons of friends, love my ponies, and I'm absolutely enchanted by the Land of Enchantment (New Mexico). It's absolutely gorgeous here!

I'll post pictures when I have them. :)

New Mexico

2007-05-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

That's right, folks - I'm in New Mexico now. Just got here this morning, actually, at 12:40am after 26 hours on a bus. I got into Philmont at 2:00 and was up this morning at 6:45 to shower and get checked in. I don't actually start work until tomorrow, so I've got the day to do whatever, so I might go hiking with my supervisor after lunch and I'm way stoked! It's gorgeous here. It's a little chilly because there's a storm front moving in, but the mountains are delightful and I've already seen rabbits and killdeer and they have buffalo, too! I'm apparently THE Pony Wrangler - head honcho, if you will - and I'm excited and nervous for all the responsibility all at the same time. I'll be responsible for our 4 ponies, some goats, chickens, maybe a cow and perhaps some burros. Cool! It's my own little farm!

In The Beginning...

2007-04-23T19:10:00.000-07:00

Since I know how much people (including myself) hate mass emails, I figured this would be an easier way to let y'all know what I'm up to these days. Instead of feeling obligated to read a ridiculously long and boring email about how outrageously cool my life is, you can feel obligated to read a ridiculously long and boring blog about how outrageously cool my life is - in color!! :)

So to start out, I'll tell you about how awesome my major is by expounding on how much I love that I'm right in the middle of finals right now and I'm not even breaking a sweat. Seriously, RMYL is pretty much the coolest major ever invented. Take that picture, for example. That's me on the left and it was for a CLASS. Yeah. I love my life. :)

In five days, I leave for Boise for two glorious weeks with my family (or part of it, at least), and then I'm off to Cimarron, NM to work at Philmont Scout Ranch - "THE Boyscout Ranch", as it's affectionately called by just about everyone who finds out I'm working there for the summer. I'm going to be the best Pony Wrangler they've ever seen.

Thaaaaat's right.