Our trail guide’s name was Hank, and he started off our trek by yelling, “Hey there, cowgirl! Show that horse who’s boss!” I used the whipping technique he showed me, and Vodka shot forward with a fast trot. Hank yelled, “Whoo-wee, Cowgirl! You’re a mean one! I love it!” From that moment on, Hank and I were best friends.Read More
The name resonates in my brain, and I cry, and laugh, and feel AngerAndHappinessAndPain all at once.
Until I got married, home was an inconspicuous little town called Horseheads, NY. The place where I came to escape the world, and crawl under a soft blanket, but now, home has become something I take with me. I've found that home can be a tent in the middle of a forest, or on top of a rocky mountain peak. Home is being with my husband while we eat too many campfire hotdogs, or in the car while we drive the last leg of a nine-hour car ride.Read More