Rant. RantS....as in plural...beware, I use the words 'shut' and 'up'.

Ahhhh, it's Friday.
Or as I'm feeling feel right now, FRYday.

I'll start trite and build from here.

-I hate winter. I hate being cold. And don't say "Oh, you'll miss this in July." Nope. Gotcha there. I. WILL. NOT!!!

-I don't feel like washing my hair. I am categorically lazy. AND I just gave written testimony to that notion. HOW lazy is a person if they avoid the trauma of washing AND drying their hair? Oh shut up, and don't answer that.

-I want my blog to have 23 thousand followers who hang on my every witty word. Like Jen Hatmaker. Mercy. I read her stuff and think, "this is how *I* talk!!". But, I'm not her. Although our names are close. Poor thing, I bet she's sitting at home, reading this, saying "Ohhhh, if I could, for but a moment, BE Jennifer Major!!!"  Sure, here's my hips, knock yourself out.

-My neck and my shoulder STILL hurt. Stupidstupidstupid ice storm!! My physio did acupuncture yesterday. No, we'll not being doing that again. Hello, waves o' pain. And guhhhh, NOT the needles, the after effects. Kinda like a pain hangover. Thank the Lord she's awesome in every other physio-y kind of way. And yes, things are WAY better than they were a month ago.

-There is a certain person I really, really, really, REALLY want to interview for my blog. This person is playing hard to get. I am not a 4 year old who's just been told she can't have ice cream for dinner. Buuuuut, I'd say I'm getting close. >this< close. Stomp. Stomp. Sticks tongue out. Stomp. Just say yes and get this over with!!! No, it's not Hugh Jackman. Frankly, I'm sick of his infernal begging.  

-I'm struggling to get my brain around a re-write. I know I CAN do it. I know I want to tell these stories. I'm highly frustrated. Yes. I know, I can hear a few people saying "Oh shut UP and stop whining! YOU have an agent! I don't. Stop complaining about a re-write,  do you know how hard this writing thing is???" 

   Yes. Yes, I do. Thanks. But it is still HARD. I have my rights, and one of them is whining. No, I haven't cried like a baby...yet...today.

And I am beyond grateful for my agent, believe me, I AM! But it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be frustrated. When you pour months into a piece of work, and it turns out to be a piece of work, and you have to turn around and hit 'rinse, repeat', it is TIRING. It's exhausting, and it is disheartening.

I heard that 'you can do it!'. Thank you.

-I totally, completely, super, really, really, totally appreciate the mountain of hits my blog gets...but, PLEASE, say hello? PLEEEEEEASE.

                                                                        Thank you,
                                                                              Needyzilla.


PS-go back one entry and leave a comment for the Bling...I'll draw a name Sunday night.

Got the winter blues??

All righty, Redheads, I admit it.

I hate, loathe, despise and generally don't enjoy winter.

I've got..the Winter Blues. 

Soooooo, why not do something about it??

I decided, why not give my blues away?

Take a look, wontcha?

There's some navy blue fingerless mittens, a blue and gold silk scarf, a blue cotton dishcloth to give to someone so they can do your dishes...

And, hey now, is that...bling?

Behold...blue glass beads earrings, blue ceramic beads, dipped in a copper glaze, and??

A sea glass and sterling silver arrowhead pendant.

And arrowhead??? How cool is that??

So...oh...wait...

Anyone spot anything I didn't describe?

Here's the fine print...

I could not get wound up in Rafflecopter just yet, so we're going old school...

1) If you haven't already, 'Like' the blog, by following TFTR, AND you get your gravatar/weensy picture on the bottom of this page. 

2) Share this on Facebook, and let me know that you did.

3) Leave a comment.

Each of those flashy moves gets your name in my favourite cowboy hat, and I'll draw a winner next Sunday night, and post the name on Monday. 

And yes, this contest is open to everyone.

Anywhere.

And by the way, the fingerless mittens, the Dishcloth for  Someone Else and the sea glass pendant? All made by my friend and fellow hockey mom, Monique Levert. 

Who is Acadian, NOT Quebecois, in case you're curious.

Announcing a contest/giveaway....

On Monday, maybe Tuesday...okay, Monday...I'm going to announce my very first...or not, I can't remember...anyway...contest and give-away. 

www.theroses28.blogspot.com

Did you see that?

A contest? AND give-away!

With stuff I'll have to mail to the winner.

Muahahahaha....

See you soon....

Back in the saddle again....

I like horses, I do.

I used to be able to ride them.

In my dreams, I can ride like this....

www.horse-connection.com.au

When, in reality, THIS is the most horse I can handle.

www.portraitswithhorses.com

Or this one...

 www.handimania.com

But ONLY if you push it slow and I wear a seat belt.

Some of you may have noticed I've been kinda quiet on the blogs since Christmas. I basically got tired. And I got swamped in edits of my own work.

And I have a real family, not just the ones I made up.

Although, if we want to talk about good behaviour? 

At least the fake ones do their share of work around here.

Not that *I* do, but anyway...

So, I'll try to get back in the blog-hop-visit saddle.

Aren't you thrilled?

Yee-hah!!

An Australian dessert, fit for a Russian, made by a Canadian, eaten by all kinds of people.

Strawberry Pavlova...

photo from triedandtruerecipes.blogspot.com

Or as I call it, "all mine".

See that face? 

That face is thinking "If you touch my pavlova...I will bring down the boom."

And I will. Just ask my kids. Muahahaha.

Ahem.

Okay, so...how does one make this plate of perfection?

Beat 6 eggs white until stiff.

photo from tourism1.blogspot.com

Here's a tip: separate the eggs one at a time, THEN when you are sure there's no yolk in the white, THEN put it in the mixing bowl. Egg whites don't whip 'up' if there is one drop of yolk, so do each egg, one at a time.

I usually just turn the mixer to medium and leave it to do its work.

Once the whites are stiff, add 1 1/2 cups of white sugar, not all at once though. Sprinkle it on, or you'll crush the nicely whipped egg whites. 

Whip the egg whites and sugar until the grainy feel of the sugar is as diminished as possible.

Then add one teaspoon each of vanilla, white vinegar and cornstarch, and beat a few more minutes..

Put a sheet of parchment paper (do as you're told) on a pizza pan or baking sheet. I use a round pizza pan that has holes it in. I prefer using this pan because the heat goes up into the meringue and gives it a better texture than a plain cookie sheet.

Bake for ONE HOUR at 250F, then turn the heat off and leave the shell in overnight.

CAREFULLY remove the cooled shell from the parchment paper. I do this by holding the shell and paper in one hand and peeling the paper by the edges all around until it comes off. If you do it SLOWLY , then you won't crack the shell in half. The shell will crack, it always does, but just a bit.

To serve:

Place shell on serving plate.

Whip 1 1/2 cups whipping cream, yes, with sugar, and spread on the shell. 

Add 2 pounds of sliced strawberries, yes, with a bit of sugar to bring out the juices, or any kind of berry combination you like, even kiwis.

Serve and enjoy. 

photo from Ciaowinnipeg.com

I dare you to only eat one piece!!

Say what you mean to say, but ...

...don't you dare make something up to make yourself look good, or make me feel like you care, when you don't.


WHY am I on this topic?
I was reading Facebook posts on what not to say to pregnant women or adoptive parents.

And it got me thinking. 
And yes, I am as guilty as anyone about this subject.

Do we give out false compliments that end up hurting someone?


First, a wee story.

Years ago, like, 15 of them, there was this (for real) wonderful lady in the church we attended.

No, no names. 

I mean, AS IF??

Anyway, she was one of those women who EVERYONE adored. You know the kind I mean, leads Bible study, visits the elderly, cooks for the folks who can't, preaches, teaches, and generally rocks the Casbah and is downright pure awesomesauce.

A truly, genuinely NICE and loving person.

And I wanted her to like me.

And I don't think she did.

Many of you are thinking "really, why not? You're just so warm and fuzzy and calm and haven't an ounce of judgmental snark in you!"
Oh, and the mutated way I view the world has nothing to do with it either.
Or that I grew up in a big city church and rubbed elbows with all kinds of people who blew me away, and this lady didn't. 

I mean, DID I have an air of  "No, darlin', you don't impress me much, but keep trying, maybe one day you will."?
Did I have the air of "big city girl does time in small town"? Probably. 

At the time, I was still STRUGGLING with the fact that we were in a place I hadn't wanted to live. Ever. Not my whole life. And whoaaa, here we were.

And there was Mrs Supergirl, parting the crowds with her smile and hugging as she walked through the throngs of admirers.

But not me.
Never me.
Ever.

But, I sort of got an attitude. I think. 
Anyway, I started to feel like, "ya know, I don't care, I really don't" when I really did. NOT because all of a sudden she picked me for the team, but because she'd look at me like "hey, Trainwreck, how ya doing?"

So I tried to behave. I know, stop laughing. 
I TRIED to be worthy.

*I* tried.

Then one day, the woman who NEVER SPOKE TO ME EVER, was walking out the door as I was walking in, and she grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me and blurted out something that sticks with me and resonates for all the wrong reasons.

"You're doing a wonderful job as a mother." 

Then she was gone.

So was my respect for her.
Instantly.

Why?

She never asked my name.
She didn't know my story.
She didn't know ME.


So why did that statement insult me so much?

If she didn't know me, she didn't know my kids and she had NO idea about my life. AT ALL.


So, what am I saying?

If you are going to up and give out a whopper of a compliment, KNOW to whom you bestow the words.

Because when you grab someone by the shoulders and say something like that. Say it in a moment when the listener can soak it up and let it wash over them.

There are SO many hurting people in the world. 
Don't toss kind words under the wheels of life. Give them out so that they are rain in a desert.

Be sincere.
Be real.
Be an oasis.

Who are Ted and Evie, Billy the Kid, what is a hogan and why I'm glad I can climb fences.

Back in 2012, two friends and I made it to the Bosque Redondo museum in beautiful Fort Sumner , New Mexico. It's quite pretty there, although hard to find,since the bigger draw in Fort Sumner is the Billy the Kid Museum and grave.

Yup, the supposed grave of a dead criminal. I know, right? 

"Honey, get the kids!! We need a picture of them posing next to a criminal's grave!"

 Anyway, we finally found the museum, waaaaay at the end of a road.

But I didn't get a chance to go out onto the land.

But, in November of 2013, I met...

Ted and Evie.

Or as they are formally known, Mr and Mrs 

Theodore and Evelyn Charles, of  Gallup , New Mexico. 

Well, not in Gallup, they live in a two story hogan, a rarity, on a hill outside of Gallup.  

Here they are, posing at Canyon de Chelly ( 'duh Shay) I seriously don't have a picture of the two of them without one of them either with their eyes shut, or someone having fun. 

Cough. Ted.

These two met in the early 1960's when she arrived at Rehoboth MIssion School in Gallup to work as a nurse. She was sweet and idealistic, and somewhat far from home. Ted had just gotten back from his time as a Marine and  was the boy's dorm supervisor/muscle/counsellor/chief trouble maker.

And if I do say so myself, I *think* our Ted was somewhat of a flirt.  

And here they are, 47 years later. 

And he still makes her blush.

So, HOW does a Canadian living on the East Coast meet and travel all over New Mexico and Arizona with a Navajo man and his wife?

Short story? I met Kiersti Plog(http://kierstiplog.com), (Facebook/blog 'met') then I found Mark Charles' blog on Kiersti's blog roll (www.wirelesshogan.blogspot.com) and then Mark introduced me to his dad, Ted.

And so it began.

I spoke with Ted on the phone, for almost 90 minutes, and long story short, he suggested I come to New Mexico.

Umm, here's the thing.

I haven't got the time or money to go to New Mexico. My schedule is packed solid.

So I prayed about it...

And God opened the doors!

Backtracking...I drove from Colorado Springs with Amy Drown, and we arrived in Belen, had dinner and Andrew and Barbara and the next morning, Ted and Evie drove A LONG WAY to rendezvous with me in the (not) swank Super 8 in Belen.

Then we drove a long way to Fort Sumner. Like, a LONG way. 

We got there, it was a gorgeous day, birds were singing, we were having a great time getting to know each other, the gates were locked and the sign said "no trespassers"

Umm.

WHAT?

So, we ended up next door at the state fair grounds.

And the gates were chained there, too.

Thankfully, the sign said "no littering".

See those two?

Yeah.

We didn't litter.

Neither did Evie.

We discussed our options, and decided to climb the fence. Evie wasn't too thrilled about it, since it really was trespassing. But, technically, there was no sign to say "2 white girls and a Navajo man cannot climb this fence and wander over to museum property and climb that fence and wander around unsupervised".

And I did not come ALL THIS WAY to be deterred by a sign.

Soooooo....

 Here's the Pecos. 

The pretty but poisonous Pecos. 

Meandering through the prison camp, the only water source for miles.

It was a beautiful day.

We even found a squash vine. We wondered if that vine was part of a garden, 150 years ago.

Given that is was close to the riverbank and under a huge cottonwood tree, it may very well be a heritage plant.

Or, who knows?

See how flat the terrain is? Imagine thousands upon thousands of people there, living in squalid, inhumane conditions. It was SO BAD, that the government signed a treaty and let the remaining prisoners go.

The Navajo measure their history before Bosque Redondo, or as the Navajo call it, Hweeldi , which began in 1864 and after, 1868.

Some say the word Hweeldi is a derivative of the Spanish word fuerte.

What it was? 

It was a living nightmare for 9500 Navajo.

And one of them was a little boy named Tsi'naginnie. (sit-nah-jin-ee).

One day, little Tsi'naginnie would grow up and have his own children, and one day, his grandson would come into the world.

His name? 

Theodore Charles.

Somewhere, across that field, all kinds of families existed and endured.

 Including Ted's family.

The very interesting part of the "no trespassing"thing is that if the museum was open, we'd have never gotten so close to the river. Or in my case, onto a sand and gravel bar in the river. 

And where does the second book in my series start?

In the river.

That night, after a long drive home, and a lot of discussion, we arrived at their home. But, this was my home for a few lovely days. 

This is 'the little hogan', down the hill from their two story hogan.

What a peaceful, lovely place to think, and wonder, and be thankful for blessings I never saw coming.

Ask any one of the hundreds of people who've known and appreciated Ted and Evie's hospitality, about the little hogan, and they'll smile and sigh. 

Because Ted and Evie know exactly how to walk in beauty.

Thank you, Evie and Ted, for the treasure of your time and wisdom..

Annnnnnnd, she's down.

I had planned to write Part Two Of My New Mexico-Colorado Adventure.

But instead, you have to read about the (roughly) 35 x-rays, the cat scan and the ice storm.

Roll those altogether, add a hockey tournament in small town Canada, and you have my weekend.

Okay, LONG story short, we were in Miramichi NB for a tournament and there was a wicked ice storm. EVERYTHING was coated in ice. And I mean, everything. Roads were ice rinks, ice rinks were open and hockey must go on, right?

My friend Lynn had parked her SUV, she headed one way and I headed the other, thinking the already driven on road was better than the slick parking lot. I was walking slllllloooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwllllllllly and carrying a cup of tea in each hand. I slipped, up went the cups, and down came me.
Or, in order: my knees, quickly followed by my chin, then my arms. 

I smashed my chin into the ice, and I could hear something snap. I think it was either my neck, or my shoulder. Not sure. 

Anyway, next, my arms went out in front of me, still holding the tea. My hands didn't have a chance to go palm open and catch my fall. And so, I landed like a volleyball player , not a skater. I'm no doctor,  but I think THAT move saved me 2 broken wrists.

And a complete meltdown, because a writer needs to type, yes?????

I managed to get my self up, then I slid and hobbled to the rink, inside and then found some of our other team parents. Of course, I needed to make sure my son had a water bottle and speak to him before the game. He was in net. 

I made it to the stands where the other parents were and that's when things got hazy. And woozy. One of the moms, Alicia, is a nurse, and I asked her to take a look at my shoulder. Then next thing we know, I'm in Renee's truck on the way to the ER. Something about my sore head and wanting to keep my eyes closed.

We got to the hospital, then somebody asked some questions, then poof, I was on a gurney, in a neck brace. 

4 hours, at least 35 x-rays, one cat scan and a really painful shot of pain killer into my thigh, I was back in the truck and in a neck brace and sling.

My friend Renee was a godsend!! She texted back and forth, from the ER, with the other parents at the game, and called my husband and kept him posted. 

Once we got back to the hotel, my son and I got settled in and then I attempted to sleep. Hahahaha.

Sunday morning, they had an 8am game, but got back at 8:45am. The other team didn't show up. Not a phone call, nothing. Stay classy, Tracadie!! So, we made the finals!
Another mom, Jennifer, drove me to the game. Our boys won and I was elated, but I just so badly wanted to get home.

ANOTHER mom, Sandra,  drove me and my van home and my son went in the truck with her hubby and sons.

I am SO happy to be home. And I am SO thankful to not have fallen backwards. I would have crack my skull and badly injured my already weak back.



Thank you, for all your help, Wildcat moms!!

    

A year in review....come ON, you knew I'd do this!! And yes, it IS all about MOI.

January: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I went back to work on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. One family birthday.

February: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I worked on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. Three family birthdays.

March: Well, it was bone chilling cold, I worked s'more on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey. 

April: Yes,  it was LESS bone chilling cold, I worked s'more on my manuscript, I took kids to hockey.

May: SPRING!!!!! Annnnnnnd, I turned 50. My friends threw a HUGE partay. I struggled with being FIFTY. I worked on my manuscriptS. And took kids to hockey.

June: My Mom and I went to EUROPE. And we went on a cruise through the Mediterranean. I am forever spoiled. For. Ever. SPOILED. Nothing will ever be the same, because I have seen Rome, the Greek Islands and stood where Paul preached. And I shared that adventure with my mom. TWO WEEKS of  "every day is epic" with my mom.
Found out I wouldn't be able to go to Bolivia in the Fall. Sad, but God had other plans...
I interviewed a Very Famous Person for my blog. 
My geezer brother turned FIFTY TWO!!! HAHAHAHA!!! SUCKER!! You're OLDER!!!!
Hubby and I had our 24th anniversary!

July: brain numbingly HOT, I worked on my manuscriptS. Took kids to soccer and you guessed it, hockey.

August: still hot, I worked on my manuscriptS. Found out I was able to go to ACFW because a dear angel paid for my hotel and God dropped 600$ out of the sky, therefore, I could go to the BIGGEST Christian writer's conference EVERRR!!! 
No hockey.

September: worked my sorry butt off on my manuscriptS, got a rejection...vowed to work harder. Prepped for the conference. Slowly lost my mind. Went to the conference. God blew my mind and gave me an agent!! Mary Keeley!!!

October: Workedworkedworked!!! Took kids to hockey.

November: Went to New Mexico and Colorado to do more in-depth research for books 2 and 3. Took kids to hockey.

December...took kids to hockey, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!!

A blog post 3 days before Christmas????

It's time to step away from the world,

and into the magic...

Merry Christmas!

I'll see you in a few days...

What a difference a year makes!!

Last December 13th I got a polite but firm rejection from an agent I wanted VERY MUCH.

Now let's get this straight, here and now. I know she wasn't rejecting ME. She was rejecting my work. It's best to act like a grown-up in these situations and establish early on that one is a professional. But...

It stung. It hurt. I was so upset. 

I gave myself a few days to wallow, as is expected when we get an answer we do not like.
Pout and whine? Sure, but I had to grab those reins, put my foot in the stirrup and get back on the horse.

I decided to that my only option was to follow her advice, and the advice of my writer friends. I read over my stuff, and admitted that it was sub-par, that I had to work harder, to push myself to read more, study more, learn more and find it within myself to be BETTER.

But I did NOT do it alone. 

No writer works alone.

I offer my work to my Audience of One. I rely on my critique peeps to read my work and to lay everything out in black and white. I ask normals to read and tell me what they think. They're cute, those normals. All...normal and stuff.

And I do buckets of research!! I currently have a healthy library of craft books, no NOT to crank up my scrapbooking or glue gun skills, and 20 books about Navajo history.  

*Sidenote- it SLAYS me to read books written back in the 1960's or 70's. The condescending attitudes toward any culture that was not Anglo or industrialized is enough to make me want to scream. I'll read them, and learn what I can, but still? UGH!

So, between December 2012 and September, I went to "school". I read my favourites- all of Laura Frantz's books, and Lori Benton's Burning Sky. Over and over and over. 
I watched how they did what they do, took note of where my heart dropped and where it stopped altogether! Then I went back and applied those skills to my arsenal. Not on their level, of course, but I did kill a few darlings!

I have my own voice, my own way of telling a story, but learning from one's favourites is really, really helpful! 

As anyone who has read this blog since this past summer knows, I got rejected, again, on September 3rd. Once again, it hurt, and once again, I looked things over, talked to some very, very wise writer friends and did what I had to do to make my work stand out.
Which meant, with roughly a week before I left for the big ACFW conference in Indianapolis, a re-write, edit, and more tweaking of the sample chapters that had just been rejected. 

Holy frijoles, it was an insane amount of work. But, did I want to go and be impressive and leave at least a few people thinking "She has something special!"? Or did I want to go and hang out? I was NOT going there to socialize!! Okay, not *entirely*.  

My husband took care of things so I could burn that proverbial candle. And burn it, I did. But I had to work hard, work harder, and then lay it all at the feet of my King.

The moral of the story?

Writers? God gives you the desire, the ache to tell stories. He gives you the brains. He opens the doors for you to learn, to grow and to bring your book baby to life. He wants your best. Not 'your best as defined by how you compare yourself to others', but He wants you to trust Him with your best.

I went to the conference on the 12th. 
I saw people I'd only met online.
I felt overwhelmed at times.
At other times, I managed to stay above water and breathe in the moment.
And most importantly? To live the moment I was in.

Even though I had an appointment with My Dream Agent on the 15th, at 9am.

I was SO ENTIRELY clueless, that at one point when I saw her, I asked her if I should bring my stuff.
I know, right? DUUUUH. Hey, I'd never been to a writer's conference, so all weekend, I basically wore my name-tag upside down ...


And as most of you know, on that September morning, as I wondered what the heck as going to happen, my Dream Agent offered representation, and I cried. A lot.



There are two days in my writer life that I'll always remember. 

December 13th, when I stood at the base of the mountain and looked WAY up, self-doubt pressing into my heart. 
And September 15th, when my world changed direction and I could barely speak for the joy of it all. 

Both are equally important, because on both those days, standing in front of me, was God asking "To whom will you build an altar?"


Him. Always Him. 

Colorado and New Mexico, November ROAD TRIP!!!

So, on November 15th, I flew to Denver. On a plane.

And frankly, November 15th was a day that shall live in infamy...I yelled, YELLED, at an unhelpful, unsympathetic, snarky, sneering airport staff person who did SQUAT to help, ohhhh, 200 people. 

I am not proud of my behaviour, but when a person simply shrugs her shoulders at the needs of 200 passengers, almost all of whom had less than 30 minutes to catch their flights, does nothing to quell their nerves and rolls her eyes at people who are really in trouble??

I will yell. 

And I know for a fact, I have not actually yelled in 4 years.

And all I said was "Excuse me?!"

Loud enough to freeze the crowd.

But I digress...

I landed in Denver, and then my dear friend Jeanne picked me up. We made our way back to Colorado Springs, and OH MY!! Look at the sky!! Hello Pike's Peak!

I spent a fabulous weekend at Casa del Jeanne and got to spend time with writer friends (Jill, Jeanne and Beth) and, and Normal Person Shari, who said "Okay, say something about writing, I need to eat." Which was a hilarious way to get her to stop talking so she could enjoy her breakfast.

Then on Monday the 18th, it was Time.

Time to pile into Amy's car and head south!!

Hola! New Mexico!!

There's Amy. She has a seriously awesome music collection!! Italian bagpipe music? Ooookay...

 Oh, MAN, it was rockin'!!

Guess where we are? Go ahead, guess!

And the coolest thing? Amy knew the way to Santa Fe. Unlike Dionne Warwick.

That's me, writing postcards in Santa Fe. Where, umm, we do NOT go to Olive Garden. No, we find a local Mom and Pop Mexican place and stuff ourselves. 

*Burp*.

Monday evening, we got to Belen, which is south of Albuquerque. We stayed at the Super 8. It had plumbing and wifi. Insert grin here.

I was getting out of the car to go check in when there They were!! Andrew and Barbara!! Yeehah!!!

Amy and I ditched our stuff and I left her in peace while Andrew and Barbara and I invaded Pete's, and misbehaved until they started subletly hinted that the sidewalks were about to roll up and it was time to lock the place for the night.

Tuesday morning, Ted and Evie Charles arrived to take me for the week. It was HARD to say goodbye to Amy,  very hard, but Bosque Redondo awaited us.

We drove for a few hours and then arrived at the Navajo Memorial at Fort Sumner, New Mexico.

Isn't it pretty there?

Look at the sparkling Pecos River.

And the pretty trees?

Oh, and the grandson of one of the prisoners. 

Prisoners?

  

Oh yes, Redheads, prisoners.

Bosque Redondo, or Hweeldi, as the Navajo people call it, was a prison camp. A terrible, horrible place where an estimated 2500 Navajo people died between 1864 and 1868.

And the age of Ted's grandfather when he was in prison for being a Navajo?

6 or 7 years old.

He was a CHILD.

Next up?

Who are Ted and Evie Charles, and how did we get IN to an old prison camp?