Half way through February 2024

How can it be. You look up a the calendar and it’s already Valentine’s Day. The day that can trigger many that aren’t in a romantic relationship, but it’s worse when you are in a relationship and the romance has died. I speak from experience. Maybe that relationship was always in some strange zombie state. I sure never had the roses and champagne style day they put in the movies. Never wanted it. I’m sure we used to go out to dinner. I likely wrote a love note, of which I’m sure all have been destroyed. What hasn’t been destroyed is my capacity for love. I often say that Kerwin taught me what love really is. The unconditional acceptance, even when disappointed with each other. Kerwin and the dogs in my life taught me that love is the strongest bond, the real reason for breathing, the best gift we can give each other. It’s not roses, it’s not champagne, it’s knowing that you have a place in someone’s heart.

 

January in a nutshell

Well, so much for writing each week. The end of December is a blur. I’m sure gingerbread was involved. January included a Bellingham trip. A birthday party at a house that Annie Dillard once lived in, has been with me for weeks. It looks like what you’d expect, a beautiful old craftsman. So much charm, likely added by the woman that bought the home after her. Appropriately named, Eden. The house is tucked off the street secure in a wooded yard. An icy steep road in front, and a salted driveway. This was an accent on the time with my people in the north. A reinforcing ping that it’s where I should be. Nothing makes me feel more whole than being with Kristen. And she chose her person Tom well. She’s navigating that long road of accompanying a relative to their death. It’s her mom and the rollercoaster is well underway. No matter how you feel about your mother, it’s still your tie to life force and your child’s link to the past. There’s no way around it.

Snow on the ground, pure nature in my view, pizza in the stomach, love in my heart, the week went too fast.

Where am I? Who are these people? – 12/11/23

So this week antics in SoCal reinforced just how much I miss the home in my heart, San Francisco. It was year two of the “Dark Christmas” festival, harmless cos-play using the Krampus story as a theme line for costumes and a small festival in “downtown” Vista. People dressed up, had some mead, silly contests like a stein holding contest (winner was 17minutes), a scavenger hunt, a few maker-vendors (though nothing to buy), limited food options and a small procession through the area to the “InZane” brewery. (Sidenote: I’m constantly shocked a the number of breweries in the area. No bookstores, but there must more than 20 within a 10 mile radius. Hard to find an independent cafe, but breweries abound). There were probably 200 – 300 people at the festival, no issues, just friendly costumed folks looking for some attention. A tiny bit Burning Man. The event itself made me feel a little bit at home, SantaCon was roaring up north at the same time. And SF does have a little Krampus event already that is mostly a costume contest for charity, but with no uproars. Down here though, the local social feeds were blowing up with criticism of bringing “Satan” into Christmas time, the “Jesus is the reason for season” folks were vocal, the red and green Santa brigades were trying to get a letter writing rally started to have the mayor shut it down next year. And that’s when I want to scream and to quote Julia Roberts in my new favorite film Leave the World Behind… “I FUCKING HATE PEOPLE”. Who are these people that need to weigh in on some innocent cos-play festival, can’t one just make note, think that’s not for me and move on. No it needs an uproar. And then I feel obligated to show support to the organizers and post words of encouragement. They’re trying to create something, it’s an immersive experience that exposes people to another side of Christmas folklore. They didn’t make up Krampus, he’s part of the legend of the St Nicholas story in Germany. He’s what the naughty children had to contend with…not just the threat of not getting toys.

So here’s hoping the festival gets bigger next year and that minds will be cracked open just a little bit to make room for more acceptance and curiosity. And it would be really great if they cracked up wide enough to support a bookstore.

The Vista Refugee House- week of 11/26

It’s official, GingerCat is part of the Vista BruCrew. I picked her up right before Thanksgiving, cast out from the family that adopted her from us last year just for expressing her displeasure of living with a new puppy and a toddler by peeing on the couch, their bed and tearing up the new carpet. I thought I was bringing home a terror. She camped out in the bathroom for a week to settle in here and well to avoid the chaos of Cleo and Max, but she’s had roaming privileges since last Tuesday and is fitting in as best she can. The dogs have accepted her, Panther and Oliver are ignoring her.

So GingerCat, your best friend here might end up being a displaced cattle dog, but at least you’ve found your home. Now save me from buying scratching posts that look like Christmas trees.

Gee Thanks, and I mean it – week of 11/19

Thanksgiving week, families assemble this week in all the forms that the come in: by blood, by friendship, even cross species. Years ago we used to make the trip down to San Diego to visit my Mom and JoAnne. The weekend was usually filled with trips to wild animal park, lego land, seaworld… and this week had many of the same elements, but different. Kerwin drove down with Cleo and Max for a nice long visit and we spent the weekend creating new memories. We walked the duck pond trail, went to see the lights at Wild Animal Park, shared a meal with Shannon at Craft Taco and headed up to Idywild so he could experience my escape hatch from the Vista suburbs and I could create some pup joy in their paradise of trees, squirrels, smells, freedom of the outdoors.

New to the pack this week…Ginger Cat. Not sure she’s a long term resident. We had adopted her out a year ago to a family but I got the call that she wasn’t fitting in. She expressed her dissatisfaction with the situation by peeing in inappropriate spots, counters, couches, clothes. She pulled the last straw and the family wanted her out. She’s currently squirreled away in my bathroom until Cleo and Max go back north. Panther isn’t too excited about having her here, Oliver so far has just ignored her. I still need to assess if she’s available for adoption…can’t pass along a pee-er problem cat. So for the time being and maybe for time to come, GingerCat is a resident at the Vista refuge.

The Bru Crew Expands – 11/6 to 11/12

Big news this week is the addition of Fast Eddie to the Vista refuge. While I thought we were going to be making room to foster and help pups find their forever homes, it was a pup already in the family that needed a new home. Eddie was teaching the new Pyrs some of his Wiley ways, so he’s joined me, Panther, Oliver, now Ruby & Garnet to be the group of tumbleweeds making a contented home.

The queen of the night bloomed and the Christmas cactus is starting to bud.

Our world is small and I hunger for something more, but can’t quite put my finger on it. A job? a business? a certificate? new volunteer opp?

Dia, no Semana, de los Muertos….10/30 to 11/5

Living as close as I do to the border, the Mexican holidays play a bigger role in the culture down here. Dia de los Muertos is one of the biggest holidays. The grocery stores print up special shopping bags for the month featuring children’s art commemorating the day. Living in this house, this house that has served as a refuge, a hospice, a detox center, a remote work center and a retirement home for my mom and I guess for me too is filled with their energy and spirits. And this week as they say the veil was so very thin. My alter, the ofrenda, to the family included the Katrina doll I made of my mom, it seems a life time ago. A garland of orange paper flowers that I spent hours thinking about them and honoring them in silence. Of course Rocky, Rookie, Kada, and Haley were all represented too. Big loves to celebrate.  

Then for the actual day I went to the festival in Escondido. A much more authentic event than those I’ve been to in the past in San Francisco. Up north it’s mostly an excuse to paint your face like a calavera, to appropriate the dress and to drink. There’s still some Mexican heritage that is more respectful with the altars in the park, but nothing like what I saw this past week. The festival was mostly Mexican vendors, face painters for the little kids, art to buy, food trucks, music, traditional dances. Marigolds were strewn throughout the park and you could take as many as you wanted. There were squares set up in the dirt outlined with dried beans and a cross if you wanted to make your own altar. It was a festival of family, friends, people and animals that touched lives and would not be forgotten. 

And then as the week closed another soul would be added to the altar, my first chicken Deborah Harry. She died in my arms today as we attempted to fight off a fungus called candidiasis. But it was too late. It’s hard to learn how to take care of another life at the expense of one. My day was filled with “if I had only.” If I had only picked her up once a month to give her a good looking over, then maybe I would have caught it earlier. If I had only dosed her with Ivermectin when I dosed Joan for leg mites. If I had only not written off her lethargic nature this past week as molting. Deborah didn’t even get to live long enough to lay her first egg. I’m sorry Deborah that I’m learning how to take care of chickens on your expense. You didn’t deserve that. But from now on, I know better. You won’t be forgotten. There’s a place on the altar for you next year. 

It’s the week before Die de los muertos, I spent hours this past week making orange crepe flowers into a garland for my offenda. Tomorrow I’ll pick marigolds from the chicken garden and add the glass of water and favorite foods. Wednesday in our writing workshop I’ll finish the piece I started last week and add it here, but I’m getting ahead of myself. This isn’t about projecting time, it’s about reflecting on it.

Time Captured ….Week of 10/30

Starting today, yes today, October 30, 2023 I plan to “capture time” in an on-going blog post. Not just a what went on in the outside world, but what went on in my inside world. A TCR, a “trap-capture-release” of my time this week on the planet.

Time Captured week of 10/22

And so this week went by. Bru had his cataract surgery. It’s been almost a year since the first visit with the vet in Temecula and then a second opinion and finally deciding on Dr Stuebe. I seesawed this entire year on the decision. The cost was the price of a trip to Africa including the apes, the benefits hard to tell. He can’t talk. Jane wasn’t a proponent, she said dogs get along fine with cataracts. He’s compensating. I seesawed. I knew I couldn’t get it done until Max and Cleo were out of the house, so it had to wait. Wait for Kerwin to graduate and take that part of the pack up north. Sell my mom’s wedding ring to pay for it. How does one sell diamonds without getting ripped off. I seesawed. I booked the appointment. I missed the first appointment, freudian? who knows. Rebooked. A full day health check. Approved. A full day procedure. Recovery is 28 days of drops every 3 hours and in theory a cone the entire time. That lasted 5 days for us. I had to sit on the floor and hold his dinner bowl. His water dish was even worse. I tried a tower of heavy bowls, but he had to maneuver the cone up and over and well he’s a strong dog and my floors got a good soaking those 5 days. He’s so stoic about the meds, I tease that he’s Marcus Aurelius incarnate. Still I tear up a CostCo chicken with my bare hands so he has something to look forward as fresh treats. I’m keeping up with the drops, but the cone is by the door. I’ll slip it on for the next vet visit.

I haven’t left his side much since the surgery. Left him one day with Shannon for an AnimalKind day fixing 10 feral cats from Hemet. I successfully tipped my first cat without blood shed. But I’m nervous leaving him, I’m the one with separation anxiety. To help curb it we went up to the cabin. Idyllwild makes everything better. Just trees, no neighbors, no pools. Time traveling music. Books to be read without household projects interrupting. Apples ripe for picking. Leaves of yellow and orange. Weekend crowds gave way to empty trails and grateful shop owners for the sale of a bagel. Weather cold enough to make a husky happy. I’m glad I was alone, I slept with the front door open so Bru could come and go as he pleased. He’s on antibiotics and steroids which make him drink buckets and pee ponds, I tried getting up and down for him, but eventually just left the door open and went to bed with a down vest and fleece jacket. Woke up to a 46 degree house and fingers so cold I was surprised they still moved. But Bru was happy, his coat carried a chill and breakfast and coffee made everything better. 

I’m not sure yet what Bru thinks about his new eyes, free from cataracts and new lenses. Do I now have a sight hound in addition to one of the best sniffers out there. I like to think so. I like to think that once we’re through recovery he will be amazed by the new found beauty in the world. All I know is that it’s easier for me to get lost in his eyes.

Moments Captured…