Tag Archives: books

You: The Owner’s Manual

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Health for Dummies? Leave it on the shelf.

We have a room in our house which we call the Library. It’s our third bedroom, the one with the futon for overflow guests. It’s also the room lined with bookshelves and full of books — other people’s books — I don’t keep the books I’ve written at my house.

I’ve read or plan to read, or refer to or plan to refer to, all of the books on these shelves. But because there’s a limited amount of shelf space and I’m a major supporter of bookstores, I occasionally have to go through my collection and weed out the ones I don’t want to keep. These fall into three categories: 1) read it once and that’s enough, 2) started to read it and didn’t like it enough to finish it, 3) has been replaced with a newer edition. These are the books — many of which are bestsellers — that I donate to my local library. I figure I give them about 50 books like this a year.

The other day, I went through this process and pulled out a dozen books. On the very top of the pile was You: The Owner’s Manual. Mike bought this book for me, thinking it would help me understand the weird things that go on with a person’s body as he/she ages. I’d seen the book in stores and thought the title was catchy. It looked like a good book. Evidently, lots of people have thought the same way, because this book has been selling like crazy and is available everywhere they sell books.

Don’t let the catchy title and “Bestseller” labeling fool you. This book should have been published as Health for Dummies because that’s what it is. There’s very little meat in this thick book. There are far too many poor jokes, cartoonish illustrations, and oversimplified explanations. Like most of the Dummies books I’ve seen. I’d read a chapter about a topic that interested me and get about halfway through it, wondering when the authors were going to stop trying so hard to be funny and deliver some useful information. What a waste of time.

Health is important. It’s not something to be joked about. When I take the time to read something that’s supposed to explain why I feel a certain way or what I can do to feel better, I don’t want to wade through a lot of fluff to get to the meat of the matter. I want immediate gratification. I want facts, plain and simple, delivered with a writing style geared towards someone above a 2nd grade reading level and TV’s Funniest Bloopers mentality.

In other words, I don’t want this book.

The library will take it gladly, even though they probably have a copy. They’re always happy when I hand over a bestseller for their collection. And maybe someone else will get something useful out of the book.

A Ride in the Desert

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We spend three hours on horseback, enjoying perfect weather.

Mike and I have two quarter horses. Jake, a retired ranch horse, is now about 24 years old and is starting to show his age. He’s sorrel (that’s brown) with some white on his feet. He’s also swayback — that means that the place you put his saddle is way lower than it should be on a normal horse —  and has very high withers. Mike bought a special saddle pad for him and then had his saddle custom made to fit the horse. I got Jake for a good price and I think I know why. He’s an alpha male and likes to boss around the other horses he lives with. He’ll bite them and chase them and generally annoy them. That must have really been a nuisance for his previous owners, so they sold him off. But he’s an excellent horse, serious about work, and can be ridden by almost anyone at all. As far as I’m concerned, he was a bargain.

Cherokee, is another story. Cherokee’s main problem is that he’s beautiful. He’s a paint horse, brown and white, and his face is just so pretty, with big gentle eyes and a forelock that’s just the right length. He was 11 when I bought him six or so years ago, and he’d already had at least three previous owners. They evidently spoiled the hell out of him because when I got him, he was lazy, poorly trained, and extremely spooky. That horse taught me more about staying in the saddle during a Cherokee-style rodeo than any other horse I’ve ridden (or fallen off of). To add insult to injury, he cost more than I should have paid. But like his previous owners, I was suckered in by his good looks.

Jake and Cherokee have completely opposite personalities. Jake was always very standoffish — he didn’t really want anything to do with people on his time off. His definition of time off was any time there wasn’t a lead rope or saddle on him. Cherokee is incredibly friendly and curious and loves to be petted. When Jake is ready for work, he works. He’ll do anything you tell him to. When Cherokee is saddled up and ready for work, he’ll do everything he can to get out of doing it. While they both like to be fed treats, Cherokee will actually beg for them. At least that’s what it looks like to me. And if you’ve been reading these blogs for a while, you’ve probably seen the photo of him eating dropped bird food out of the bottom of Alex’s cage.

Cherokee is a big eater and it shows. He’s fat. Jake’s thin. Now if you recall what I said about Jake being the alpha male and consider that they both share the same space, you might wonder how it is that Jake can’t scare Cherokee away from the food. It isn’t like he doesn’t try. He puts his ears back (a horse’s way of saying “f*ck off”) and chases Cherokee. He even bites Cherokee once in a while, putting three or four rows of parallel teeth marks on that beautiful coat. But Cherokee is accustomed to his place at the bottom of the pecking order and is very stubborn. He also eats very fast. So as Jake ages and seems to get thinner and thinner, we’ve taken to separating them at dinner time and overnight, giving Jake more food than he can eat and plenty of time to eat it. Cherokee, of course, doesn’t like this, and after he gobbles up his food, spends the rest of the night pacing around outside the gate to Jake’s enclosure. Over the years, they’ve both changed a bit. Jake is now more friendly. Although his previous owners probably hit him in the face (he was very hand shy when we first got him), he now lets us pet him, even around his head. Cherokee has calmed down and isn’t afraid of rabbits anymore, so I haven’t had any rodeo practice lately. He’s also been trained to walk when I tell him to — without the use of a riding crop! — and to let me position him so I can open and close gates while on horseback. And a few years back, they both posed for a Christmas photo, wearing antlers on their heads.

Photo
Christmas Horses

Anyway, yesterday Mike and I went for a long horseback ride out in the desert. The horses seemed very pleased about going. Of course, when we got to the top of the hill, Cherokee thought we were going to Uncle Pete’s house. That’s where they stay while we’re away and I think he spoils them. When he realized we were turning left instead of right, heading down the trail instead of down the road, he did some Cherokee dancing. In the end, he just followed Jake, like I knew he would.

We live on the edge of town, about two lots from state land. So we normally saddle up and ride out from our house. We have two choices for a ride in the desert: turn down Cemetery Wash, which runs through our property, and take that or any of the trails that go into it or ride up the easement road from our house just past our neighbor’s house on 328th Avenue to a trail that goes right into the state land. We usually follow the second route, since there are far more trails closer to our house when we go that way. That’s also the same trails that the wranglers at Rancho de los Caballeros use for rides, so most of the trails are well worn in — perhaps too worn in in some cases — and easy to follow.

Jack the Dog came with us, of course. Jack likes to go horseback riding. He doesn’t ride a horse. He just runs along on the trail in front of us, chasing rabbits and birds. We realized that he liked horseback riding more than us when we sent two of our friends out for a ride on our horses and he went with them instead of coming back up to the house with us.

We went through the gate in the fence that separates state land from private property. The fence is there more to keep cattle out of people’s back yards than to prevent people from coming in or out of the state land. It also helps keep quads off the horse trails, although it doesn’t help enough. Every once in a while, a couple of quads will get in there and tear up the narrow trails with their wide wheels. There are so many places the quad riders can ride in town — hell, the hills are just criss-crossed with old mining roads and surrounded by sandy washes. Why do they insist on ruining the horse trails and going through people’s private property?We took the “golf course trail” west along the edge of the state land to Los Cab’s golf course, then we turned south to go around Los Cab’s property. We passed through another gate and followed a trail we’d followed a hundred times toward the west again. Spotting a new trail, we took that toward the east, climbing a small ridge that offered nice views of Los Cab. Then back down onto familiar trails, heading west again.

We spent three hours mixing old trails that we knew well with new trails. More than once, we were on trails I’d never been on before. And we wound up going a lot further southwest than we thought we were. I won’t say we were lost — that’s too strong a word — but at one point we were definitely not where we thought we were.

The ride was wonderful. Cherokee had settled down into a good pace and wasn’t the least bit jumpy. Jack chased rabbits and even a few deer. The temperature was perfect: warm enough that a long-sleeved shirt was fine without a jacket. There was some wind on the hills, but the air was quite still near the ground. We found one trail that took us high up onto a mountain, with incredible views of the town far below us, to the northeast. And we didn’t pass another soul.

It was the first time I’d been out for a good, long ride in a while. I’ve been so busy lately with work on my books, building up the helicopter business, and doing flights that I just haven’t had time to ride. And I seem too good at making excuses: it’s too hot, too cold, too windy, too early, too late. Sheesh. I’m an excuse machine when it comes to riding. I think that the truth of the matter is that I’m just too lazy to saddle up. But the reality is that it really isn’t that much work and it’s worth every minute once you get out into the desert on a nice trail.

I’d like to find a riding partner here in town who’d be willing to ride one day a week for about 2 hours. Sometime around noon or early afternoon. But it seems that few of the new people coming into town have horses and many of the ones who do prefer riding with big groups, so they can show off their riding clothes, saddles, and horse’s grooming. I like to ride in small groups, with people who don’t fuss about the terrain being too steep or rocky, with people who know how to control their horses, with people who have enough sense to wear the right clothes and bring enough water for the ride.

Anyway, there are two things about yesterday’s ride that I regret: 1) I didn’t bring my camera. How stupid is that? There were lots of photo ops and I think this entry would have been a lot more interesting with photos. 2) I didn’t bring my GPS. A few years back, I’d started a trail mapping project. Now I’m determined to finish it. And with 3 hours worth of riding yesterday, I could have mapped a lot of trails.

Anyone out there want to go riding on Wednesday afternoons? Get in touch. Experienced riders only, please. And don’t worry; I have a spare horse if you need one.

Robert’s Rules of Writing: 101 Unconventional Lessons Every Writer Needs to Know

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A quick book review of a book for writers.

I started Robert’s Rules of Writing a few months ago and set it aside. It wasn’t because I didn’t like it. It was because I felt like reading something different at the time.

I picked it up the other day and took it on the plane with me to New York, where I spent the Thanksgiving Holiday. I didn’t feel like carrying the novel I’d borrowed from the library. I wanted something small and light, something I could pick up and put down without losing track of a plot or having to backtrack to remember what I was reading.

I’m about 4/5 through this book and I can’t say enough nice things about it. The author, Robert Masello, offers 101 “rules” for writers and uses about two pages, on average, to explain each one. Some of them seem to contradict known “rules” that writers have been following for years. For example, Rule #1, Burn Your Journal, would likely upset many creative writing teachers and the students who hang on every one of their words. But Mr. Masello carefully explains why a journal isn’t necessarily a good thing. I have to say that I agree with him.

In fact, I agree with just about everything he says — which is pretty unusual for me. We all know what a disagreeable person I can be.

In short, if you’re a beginning writer — or interested in becoming a writer — you really ought to pick up this book. It’ll give you a lot to think about. Or, in many cases, re-think about.

And if you’re already an established writer, you may want to pick up a copy and go through it. Although you should have learned most of this stuff for yourself, it’s good to read someone else’s take on it. And it’s given me quite a few ideas for essays that I can include in the Writing categories of this blog. Information from my own experiences that I think beginning writers may learn something from.

The only thing I didn’t like about the book was its funky layout. Someone in the publisher’s production department thought it would be cute to mix graphics in a distressed Courier (read that typewriter) typeface with book text, fiddle around with boldface type and indented text, change alignment for certain paragraphs, print some pages white on black, and generally make a mess of the book’s layout. I found it incredibly distracting and a bit difficult to read. When the words are good, why screw around with the way they appear on page? I’m sure someone in marketing had their hand in this one.

Overall, though, it’s a big thumbs up. And with an affordable price tag — $14.99 US — it’s a nice addition to any writer’s library.

A Trip to Sedona

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I spend the day in Sedona, waiting for some passengers.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of flying two very nice people from Canada from Wickenburg to Sedona for the day. We arrived at Sedona Airport, after a scenic flight around Wickenburg, Prescott, and Sedona’s red rocks, around 11:30 AM — just in time for the Pink Jeep Tour shuttle to pick us up and bring us down to the town. My passengers were taking a Jeep Tour; I planned on just hanging around downtown until they were ready to return at 3 or 4 PM. I escorted them to the Jeep Tour desk, reminded them that they could change their reservation, and watched them reserve a Jeep and driver all to themselves for departure at 1 PM. Then I left them to walk around town on my own.

The Pink Jeep Tour company’s offices are in “uptown” Sedona. That’s the heart of the tourist district in the northwest corner of town at the mouth of Oak Creek Canyon. The tourist shops that line both sides of the street there are dwarfed by the massive red rock formations behind them. But all attention in uptown Sedona is concentrated on those shops. I admit that mine was, too.

I hadn’t been to the town of Sedona for years. I’ve been flying in quite regularly with passengers, but I seldom come down off the mesa where the airport is located. There’s a restaurant up there and I usually have breakfast or lunch or whatever while my passengers explore the town on their own. They’re usually gone about 2 hours at the most, so I busy myself with a book while I’m waiting. It’s a nice, relaxing place.

But yesterday, my passengers wanted a longer stay in town. And since the Pink Jeep people offered me a lift in the shuttle, too, I went down the hill with them.

I walked the few blocks of uptown Sedona at a leisurely pace. I saw lots of T-shirt shops and lots of souvenir shops. The usual collection of real and fake Indian crafts and jewelry. Imported Mexican rugs. Jeep tour companies. Reservation centers. The wonderful map and bookstore that had been in one of the shopping areas was gone and I was sorely disappointed. I’d depended on that shop for reading material while I waited and it didn’t appear, at first, as if there were another bookstore in town. I finally found one across the street from the Pink Jeep storefront, the last shop on my walking tour.

My Sedona passengers from last week’s flight had spent only 90 minutes in town before returning to the airport. They called Sedona a “tourist trap.” And frankly, as I walked the streets, I couldn’t argue with them. But I hadn’t really expected it to be any different. I don’t know what they expected. After all, take a beautiful place, make its beauty well-known, and people will flock there. When enough people flock there, the tourist shops will start springing up like mold on old bread. After a while, those shops (like mold) completely cover the area, masking what people found so beautiful in the first place.

Now I don’t want to give you the idea that Sedona is “ruined.” It isn’t. There are still plenty of beautiful sights around town. Sadly, there are so many people there to view those sites, you’re always part of a crowd. You need to come to Sedona with your own Jeep and a trail map to get away from the herd. Bring a picnic lunch and your camera. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t come on a weekend!

I ran into my passengers on the street just before they went to lunch. They invited me to join them, but I felt as if I would be intruding, so I declined. I had lunch at a tea shop across from the Pink Jeep place and sat outside on a narrow balcony to eat and read the book I’d bought in the bookstore down below. It was windy and rather cold up there, so I didn’t last long.

Afterwards, I went for a walk back the way I’d come. That’s when I saw the Hummer tour sign. They had a 1-hour tour leaving immediately. It was the “Jeep Eater” Tour. Supposedly, this tour took passengers places were Jeeps couldn’t go. I pulled out my credit card and, minutes later, was seated in the front passenger seat of a Hummer, about 6 feet away from its driver. (Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that wide, but it sure seemed like it.) There were two passengers, a couple from Baton Rouge, in the open-air seating behind us. That was it.

The road that Jeeps can’t drive on isn’t in Sedona. It’s halfway back to Cottonwood, off of 89A. It’s a power line road — that’s a road built to maintain a power line — and frankly, there were only about 4 places on the whole ride that I would have been uncomfortable about taking my Jeep. That’s not to say that my Jeep couldn’t have done it. But I’m not sure that it could have done it with me at the wheel. During the whole ride, the driver kept pointing out other roads that the couple from Baton Rouge could explore on their own with the ATV’s they’d trailered up from home. The driver was obviously working hard to add value to the ride and maximize his tip potential. Whatever. It managed to stretch the tour out to 90 minutes, bringing us back to Sedona just when my passengers were due back. In case couldn’t read between the lines in this paragraph, I don’t recommend this tour. It wasn’t worth the $100 I spent on the tour plus tip. But at least I know what it’s like to ride in a real Hummer.

I hurried back toward the Pink Jeep place and found one of my passengers outside a gift shop. His wife was inside, shopping. They’d had a great time and had looked for me to join them before they left. I didn’t tell them about the Hummer.

I left them for a short while to pick up a gift for a friend of mine and a piece of apple pie that was really good. Then we got back on the shuttle, rode up to the airport, and flew home.

I’m glad I got to go to Sedona for the day. I feel all caught up with things down there. And I’m sure I’ll be back soon — not only by helicopter, but perhaps by Jeep to see just what my Jeep can do.