Real Horses Don't Sing Songs

We are back from Arizona, and despite the saving grace of my iPad and the abundance of WiFi signals the residents of the two homes we stayed in couldn't seem to remember the passwords necessary to access said WiFi, so I've been going through what some may call blogging withdrawal, which leaves sufferers finding themselves air-typing their thoughts out onto an empty lap or table top. Really just makes you look neurotic more than anything else. So let me catch you up. First off all we've had a lot of rain in California and, in case you didn't know this about Californians, we don't handle weather well; especially water molecules that fall from the clouds. ... we don't really know what to do with it. So the drive out Monday night (an already 8 hour drive) took a bit longer considering the first 100 miles were at 35 miles an hour. We ended up rolling in to Tucson around 3 am to find my father in law (bless his soul) still up waiting for us. He helped us in and we finally got the girls to sleep in their pack n' plays by 4 or so. Next morning we were a bit groggy, but thrilled to be out of the rain an in Grandpa's house. One thing about Grandpa is he loves horses. They have a horse boarding business on their property (also a sports club and a wedding facility) and his wife's family has a huge cattle ranch in southern Arizona. So waiting for the girls when they got up Tuesday morning were their very own first horses. They were plush, stuffed and nailed to curved pieces of wood to help them rock, but they were horses as far as we were concerned. They even whinnied and moved their heads when you squeezed their ears. The girls were very intrigued by this. In fact, when we went and saw they real horses later they kept trying to squeeze their ears to see if it worked on them. Turns out real horses don't work that way. That, of course, didn't stop us. The rest of the week was full of adventures. We went to the zoo, we went to a choo-choo park, we visited the ducks and even a fancy high society party in Phoenix. We were very busy, and very good apparently because Santa spoiled us rotten. ... or was it Grandpa?