Flame Grilled Pizza

I didn't get a picture, but our friends served us up one heck of a good homemade pizza. Actually, six good homemade pizzas--we each made our own--on the grill.

We used pre-made pizza dough from Trader Joes. Each package makes about two or three individual pizzas. If they're too large, they're difficult to grill. Roll out the dough and brush one side with olive oil. Place the dough, olive oil-side down, on a hot grill. Brush the top side with olive oil, and flip the dough after about three minutes. Top with sauce and pre-cooked toppings. I topped mine with traditional pizza sauce, sauteed mushrooms and onions, sausage (browned and crumbled), and cheese, but the pizza with alfredo sauce and chicken looked good too. By the time the cheese has melted (about four minutes), the pizza is done. Grilling makes for a nice, thin, crispy crust. Yum!

The Magnificent Miki Moto

I'm obviously not riding as of late, but I still have lessons on Tuesdays and Saturdays and am learning plenty. Everyone at the barn from the young grade-school girls and their parents to the seasoned riders and the head trainer has been caring and sympathetic. It's great to be part of such a supportive community while I'm recovering from my injuries. And I love visiting Moto.

Mr. Miki Moto, at 18 hands, is the tallest horse at the barn. A hand is four inches, and horses are measured from their withers (the ridge on the back between the shoulder blades) to the ground. After I learned that I broke my sacrum, I read that sacrum injuries often are caused by falling from "a great height." That would be Moto! Despite his size, he's a gentle giant and very patient with beginners. He does tend to be a bit lazy, but you can hardly blame him. Wouldn't you be a little languid if you were his size? I love how he turns his ears backward to listen to me when I'm riding him.

The handsome guy loves treats. He hikes up his front leg and taps his huge bell-shaped hoof to let me know that he'd like another carrot, please. Moto likes being groomed and leans in to me and sighs when I curry-comb his chest. Heaven.

So Long, Soda

Aside from the animals, it is the idea of the fresh, homegrown food that makes the "simpler life" on the farm or ranch sound so appealing. Yet, while I'd given a lot of thought to local, seasonal, organic, and humane food over the past couple years and made some small changes (I buy organic and humane products whenever possible), my overall diet missed the point. For example, before my accident two weeks ago, I had an appalling 4-can-a-day diet soda habit. I had tried to kick the habit many times, with no success.

(The Wrangler, who doesn't drink soda, once protested my purchase of a 24-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper at Target. "You drink way too much," he scolded, not bothering to help as I struggled to carry the carton to our cart.

"I only drink a lot because of my job," I explained. "If I could just stay at home on the ranch, I'd cut way back."

"That's not true. You'd just sit at home and drink even more all day," the Wrangler said, oblivious to the craned heads of other shoppers who, looking at me with disapproval, undoubtedly thought we were discussing a different vice.)

My broken humerus and sacrum--yep, just learned that my tailbone area is fractured, not merely bruised--helped me to quit cold-turkey. I'm no longer a soda pop junkie. After the accident, I learned that caffeine, carbonated beverages, soda, salt, red meat, fatty dairy, refined sugar, and processed/junk foods (about 95% of my pre-accident diet) hinder bone repair. No can of soda is worth a prolonged recovery.

Supernova

The Wrangler's pet name for me is Supernova. (There are no Sweeties or Honeybunches on this ranch.) I earned this term of endearment because one minute I'm crazily into something and then, suddenly, I'm not. Sometimes I simply overdo it--like the KFC bowl, for example. Remember those? Mashed potatoes topped with KFC chicken, gravy, corn, and cheese? I ate one every day for two months straight. Then one fateful day I discovered that even thinking about a KFC bowl grossed me out.

Sometimes I just exhaust my resources. After reading literally every book out there on lavender (including books en francais), taking a lavender class, touring lavender farms, researching lavender festivals and vacations, conducting lavender growing studies, learning lavender crafts, talking to lavender experts, and purchasing so many lavender products that the den looked like a wholesale lavender distribution facility (until I threw everything in boxes and stuffed them in the attic), I'm good for now with the lavender research, thanks.

Sometimes I lose interest. Scrapbooking class = $125. Creative Memories scrapbooking supplies = $1500. Discovering that a person with no patience and even less artistic ability has no business cutting up cherished photos = priceless.

And sometimes I crash and burn. In February I decided to start hunter/jumper horseback riding lessons. By March I had added a second lesson each week. By April I had two bookshelves-worth of horse riding manuals, and the guy at the tack store knew me by name. By June I had competed in my first show, was taking two lessons plus hacking each week, and half-leased a horse. And then, the first week of July, I took a bad fall while learning to canter, suffering a broken arm and a severely bruised tailbone. I'm sidelined until late August. My plans to spend the summer on horseback have imploded.

Happy 4th of July Weekend