My spurs are of silver, my pony is gray

Some cowgirls are made; others are born. Much to our surprise, Clara is something of a born cowgirl. We already knew how much she loved horses, since we have some friendly neighborhood equines we like to visit when we go on walks. But Jeremy and I were both pretty sure she would not get close enough to even touch a horse, let alone to ride one. This is partly based on the fact that we ourselves have an extremely healthy respect (read: fear) of getting close to a horse, and it's also based on the fact that Clara is terrified of other scary animals, like poodles and worms.



But Clara has always been full of surprises, and when the horseback riding segment of her little friend's birthday party arrived yesterday, she was the most eager and fearless horsewoman we've ever seen. She took several turns around the corral on Shadow, talking to everyone she passed saying, "Look at me! I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" When her turn on Shadow was done, she immediately demanded, "I need to ride that Princess horse!" So when all the other kids had finished their turns, Clara got a second ride on Princess. Only one thing could've made the event perfect for her: if she could do it all by herself. She kept telling Jeremy that she wanted everyone to let go of the horse and let her ride: "I can ride with no rope to go faster and faster and faster!" Several of the adults suggested that we buy her a horse and give her riding lessons. We'll wait for her to conquer her fear of poodles first.

We did it!

For those of you who marked your calendars and have been waiting with anxious anticipation for our report, last Saturday was indeed our long awaited March of Dimes March for Babies. We walked the entire route, which took us along a six-mile (round trip) stretch of the North Idaho Centennial Trail. Unfortunately this particular stretch was parallel to the interstate, so we had the steady drone of traffic as our constant companion. But we also had lots of honks from truckers, so I guess there are pros and cons.

The biggest lesson we learned from this experience is that tiny children do not really enjoy six mile walks. Clara and Jonathan, as a pair, have a threshold of about four miles, after which anything is possible, including Clara biting Jonathan on the arm (twice) hard enough to leave teeth marks. Jeremy ended up carrying Jonathan between miles two and three ("I feel like a pioneer woman," he said. "I need a bonnet and a long, flowing skirt." Why not a pioneer man?). He also ended up carrying Jonathan between miles five and six, at which point Clara also decided to get out, so I was left pushing an empty stroller.


Nevertheless, we walked triumphantly past the finish line, just minutes after Jonathan finally fell asleep. He didn't sleep very long, what with all the people yelling, "Oh, look at that baby! He's asleep! Loooook! He fell asleep!" Evidently, nothing wakes up babies faster than pointing out that they're asleep.


I'm really glad we decided to do this, and I admittedly got a bit choked up looking at the poster of the sweet premies and babies and listening to the walk director talk about her two older brothers who were born early and did not live. I am truly grateful, also, for everyone who donated to our walk. We were able to donate 385 dollars, so THANK YOU! The more I learn about March of Dimes (they're responsible for the polio vaccine, as well as more recent developments in prenatal and neonatal care) the more I respect the organization and its mission. Thanks for supporting a worthy cause. Walk on!

On the brain

When Jeremy and I are having a discussion about something--like an idea, or a book, or a current event, or yardwork, or parenting, or the best way to stack dishes in a cupboard, or whatever--I usually have lots to say and work hard to get all of my words out right up front. I may change my mind later based on a new argument or additional information, but I have very little trouble offering a full and reasoned opinion.

Jeremy, on the other hand, is much more reflective than I am up front, and it's important to him to understand everything that's happening before offering an opinion. This makes him a great active listener, since he is willing to absorb everything I have to say before offering an opinion. This also makes our conversations occasionally frustrating, since sometimes I just want him to spit something out already, regardless of whether he has all the right sources and information lined up in his mind.

A few years ago, we had a funny discussion about the way each of us thinks and communicates, and we came up with extremely vivid mental images of the way each of our minds works. See if you can see what we see:

Jeremy's mind is a sparse, gray room (he says it's shaped like an octagon). He says there's a single, unadorned window on one wall, and all of the walls are lined with dozens of steel filing cabinets with multiple drawers. In the center of the room, not far from the window, a single Jeremy sits in a rolling office chair behind a tall, spartan desk (think the security desk at the BYU library, if that helps you). Several neat stacks of paper sit on the desk, and the little Jeremy is always productively organizing and arranging these stacks, preparing them for their appropriate place in the filing cabinets. If the "real" Jeremy needs information for a discussion, an idea, or a piece of writing, the little mind Jeremy taps the stacks on his desk and walks over to the right filing cabinet. Carefully and deliberately, the little Jeremy flicks through the file folders until he finds what he's looking for, at which point he transmits the knowledge to the "real" Jeremy, who is then able to convey the information to the appropriate venue. The little Jeremy then walks back to his desk, where he resumes organizing his neat stacks of paper.

My mind, on the other hand, is a busy, colorful room lined with bookcases and several tables. There is always music playing, the many windows are always open to a beautiful breeze. Fresh flowers and plants liven up the atmosphere, and there's always a feeling of happy yet driven purpose. My mind requires several little Rachels--probably three--to get all of the necessary information to me. Instead of filing cabinets, my information is stored in the books on the shelves and in many cluttered stacks of paper that seem disorderly, but the little Rachels know just where everything is. If I'm in a situation where I need to get information, each of the little Rachels has a specific job. One of them is in charge of relaying "funny filler," in case I need to keep people laughing while the other little Rachels are scurrying around trying to find everything else I need. The other two Rachels typically find the same information, but one of them feeds it to me softly and one of them shoves it into my brain, just in case I need to slam the hammer down in a more competitive conversation. Either way, they are all very busy but happy in their flower-and-book-filled chaos.

To put your own minds at ease, neither Jeremy nor I actually hears voices, but we did get a kick out of trying to describe visually what goes on in our minds, especially since the respective pictures we drew ended up conveying so much about ourselves--or at least what we want to believe about ourselves.

So now the question is, How does your mind work?

This baby, we love!