Specific Places/Redbud Trees

Since I moved here, 20 months ago, there have been times when a sort of longing has come over me for the house I left in Victoria. It's odd because that time has become an almost surreal memory. It seems to have flown by and left no trace. Two and a half years of my life in supreme turmoil and upheaval where spent there. Some of my most miserable moments, a time of soul-searching but also a time of letting go, relinquishing the old and waste of years that had come before. It was sort of like finding something that had been lost for a very long time: me.

One thing I know about myself -- I'm given to place, to the meaning of place, how it defines and delineates my life. That house was a real turning point. I almost literally felt myself do a 180 while I lived there. I've called it my transition house, and that's truer than I even believed when I gave it that name.

Yesterday I had need to go there again. A box had been delivered for me there by mistake. Was this some kind of eerie fate working? or just a computer glitch that autofilled my old address into the SHIP TO line on the order? Both perhaps.

Turning onto Trinity Street felt so familiar but in a time-warped way. I was removed from it, a deja vu moment rather than real memory, the two and a half years there a mere blip in my timeline. Everything but the redbud tree I planted was gone from the back yard. The esparanza, the ginger plant, the blue plumbago, the caladiums -- all dug up and carted away. The wooden fence in front has been extended to block out the "ugly" neighbors to the west of the house. Cat fence was no longer. Same with the fountain urn. A couple of plants I planted there remained, but most of those in front were gone, too.

The new owner was sunbathing in the sideyard, a usurper, but also a reminder that I was no longer connected to this place. Who was that woman? I wondered briefly about her, sitting with her lounger on top of my "new path," which I was happy to see intact. Building that walkway had done wonders to clear me mentally, although I suspect it was also where I injured my foot, spilling a load of pavers when the cart carrying them upturned. I sat there on that grass, holding onto my hurt foot, as tears of pain came spontaneously.

The woman came to the front door to hand me my errant box. I could hardly resist a peek inside. Tile floor still the same -- a $5000 cheapshot to my gut. I'd given them a tile allowance at closing to replace the loose tiles. A piano stood where my mother-in-law's buffet had been. But I hardly noticed anything else. Not my house anymore. My soul had exited these premises.

The woman -- I don't even recall her name -- was prettier than I remembered her as being. She had the look of a pampered, "kept" woman, which I actually think she is. Her smile was friendly. She said she was enjoying the house. I drove off happy to have my box, didn't look in the rearview mirror, felt no old longing.

I came home and hung a clock in my new travel trailer out under the carport. I put down stepping stones in the garden, a utilitarian walkway this time, to keep my feet out of the mud. My "new path" has been built, left behind. For an hour I doddered in the greenhouse, the mindless, therapeutic work I've come to need and love. I talked to my SO a dozen or more times on the phone, shared my owl story with him, laughed at his equally funny dog story. I missed him in bed last night, only slept three hours. I'm up before sunrise, thinking about a couple of writing projects I want to start today, waiting for Thursday when I will join him in Grand Junction, anticipating the visit with my son and his partner in Monument Valley this coming Easter Sunday. I'm about to make coffee and sit with the cat. Read a while.

There's a newly planted redbud tree in full bloom off the back patio, out there in the morning darkness. It's become a kind of ritual for me to plant one in the places where I live. Does three times make a tradition? My SO dug the hole for this one. I think maybe this tree is the most special. It's shared.

Onward ....

Wildlife Week

It started last Friday a week ago, right after the SO's daughter-in-law's grandmother's funeral visitation. When we came up the driveway, with me driving, my SO saw "eyes" shining in the headlights. Two pair under the bird feeder in the back yard. He made me back up and point the car in that direction so he could see whatever was there. A couple of possums. I'd already had an altercation with one of these two, so there was no love lost. Don't like possums a bit. They used to kill the feral kittens at the lakehouse with regularity. The SO went in after his pistol and shot both of them out of the tree where they had sought sanctuary. Turns out one of them had babies, so he got nine possums with two shots. A good kill.

Then Monday, the dog began worrying the Suburban where it was parked just outside the garage. My SO went out to see what she was after, opened the hood and started the car. Nothing. Tuesday, she was still nervousing around the Suburban, so he repeated opening the hood and starting the car. I was outside piddling with my plants and he called me over. He asked, "Is this cat shit?" I peered into the guts of the Suburban. There were little piles on various parts under there, lying on the motor etc. I said I didn't think so. Anyway, cats bury their feces. We decided that the manure probably belonged to the two possums he had shot, and the dog was just smelling that they had been in there at one time. Case, along with the hood, closed.

Wednesday we're all outside. The dog is obsessed with the Suburban. SO opens the hood again, starts the engine. The insulation lining the underside of the hood has pulled loose. With the handle of a shovel, he bumps the loose insulation, and OMG! a ringtail comes slithering out of it's hidey-hole. Well, the dog went ballistic. I jumped away from the car. The SO cursed as the ringtail burrowed further into the open hood, disappearing into the belly of the Suburban, hiding in the drivetrain or somewhere under there. I quickly ran to take the cat inside, did not want him involved in this situation at all. The dog, I think, got the ringtail for a split second as it tried to escape out the back end of the car. But it shook itself loose and decided to quickly return to its dark hiding spot.

The dog and my SO harassed the ringtail for at least a half hour, trying everything to get it to show itself again. He beat on the car with a shovel. He sprayed all around and up under the car with a high pressure water nozzle, managing to get himself and the dog soaked, but the ringtail did not come back out in the open. I'm sure it was traumatized. I finally suggested that maybe if we all went back inside, the creature would come out of its own accord to seek a safer, less rowdy, place to nest. The SO backed the Suburban out into the grass, left the hood up, and we went into the house. We really don't know if the ringtail left or not. We never saw it again, but we did take that car to Austin mid-week, so maybe we relocated the critter. The dog, however, has not forgotten that the Suburban recently housed a wild animal. She continues to lie beneath it and stare longingly into the murky interior under there.

Tonight the house has been attacked by a large owl. Not the horned owl that lives here. This is a little smaller, reddish owl that apparently likes to use the roof of the living room as his lookout position. We have a small yellow light on a photocell at the edge of the outer wall. The cat and I were watching "The Pacific" on HBO tonight, the house was relatively quiet, we were minding our own business, when suddenly, a hellacious noise commenced on the roof. I looked at the window in time to see a red blur divebomb off the peak of the roof. I jumped up and turned on several floodlights. Finally I saw the owl when I turned on the porchlights as it swooped out of the big live oak in front of the house. In a while, I heard him ramming against the skylight in the office upstairs. I looked it up on Wikepedia. Did not realize that owls like insects as much as small furry mammals. I guess the lights have attracted bugs, and he was having himself a little smorgasbord.

Ah country life in Springtime ... sigh!

Onward ....

Grilled Ling and Article Writing

The SO's granddaughter and her boyfriend stopped by here this past Saturday. He is a marine biologist and they had been deep sea fishing over Spring Break. He caught a big ling and had frozen steaks in their car. He gave us some, much to the dismay of my SO, who believed that he did not like grilled fish of any kind, no way, no how.

Well, we thawed the fish out and I made a marinade of garlic, butter, fresh-squeezed lemon, and coarse-ground pepper. SO built a fire in our barrel pit, and cooked the steaks for 10 minutes on each side. They were thick steaks, maybe two inches thick. While they were grilling, I came in and made dilled carrots and steamed some broccoli, fixed garlic bread and poured two glasses of a tart Australian white wine. It was an absolutely delicious meal. The fish was delectable, firm and white, mild-flavored, and just excellent. My SO has changed his mind entirely about grilled fish, and is already planning ways he will adjust his fire the next time we try it. I'm sure ling from a fish market would not be as fresh tasting as this was, but we know of several fish markets on the Coast where we spend a lot of weekends, and we'll try to find some more ling cod when we're down there next.

Today, it was a bluebird day. Aside from cooking out, we also drained and cleaned the hot tub. While it was draining, I stepped up some of the veggies in the greenhouse. I'm focused on growing flowers now and would really like to get the vegetables out of there. We paid a visit to our friend who had open-heart surgery, and I took three tomato plants to him. I had just put them in 1-gallon containers so he shouldn't have to DO anything to them for a few weeks. He's always had a large garden, and last summer kept us in more peppers and cherry tomatoes than we were able to eat. Hopefully, he can container farm these plants I took today, and they'll provide him with a bounty and with something to keep him occupied that doesn't require any physical exertion.

My SO will be leaving for a few days on Sunday, and I'm already feeling the need for a lot of together time before he goes. I'll be joining him after a few days, but the few we'll be apart will be lonely ones. But I've been working on an article I hope to find a home for about backyard greenhouses and I'll use the apart time to whip it into shape. Need to write a compelling query, too. I have an idea of where I'm going to submit it, and they're very specific in their guidelines about querying.

Onward ....

Houston Rodeo, Keith Urban, Wood Blinds & Springtime

Think we might be partying too much. Or something. But it always seems that these FUN things come all at once, or in clusters.

Went to Rodeo on Tuesday. The walking just about did me in with this damned sore foot. But I wore my red boots, and I think they stabilize my ankle, so I lasted longer than I feared I would. We wandered around Reliant Arena, touched on some of the retail booths, but that stuff is so expensive, or else I'm a cheapskate. Never in a million years would I buy a purse that costs $475. It's just not in my DNA to spend so frivolously. Then we hoofed it over to the stock show, which I always enjoy. It was swine day, and we sure saw a lot of them. Amazing how they walk them around without a leash, just using a thin flexible stick that they bump their sides with, right then left, to keep them moving along. They seem so well-behaved, unlike the wild hogs that roam around this countryside.

Watched some chicks peck their way out of their eggshell, and then lay there swamped, soaking wet, flattened like they'd been decked. A few of the others in the incubator were staggering around like drunk sailors. One kept poking his itsy beak at a piece of cardboard lying on the bottom of the pen. They were really cute. Children were ganged around the exhibit in wonder. There was also a petting zoo, which brought back memories of my boys. My oldest adored petting zoos, and would rush in to pick up the first baby goat he came to, and just carry it around hugging it. He's always been the animal lover. We watched a dairy cow hooked up to a milking machine. Educational. She didn't seem to mind it at all.

Then we went upstairs and had a couple of drinks and some popcorn in the private club for committeemen. My SO is a past president of the Trailriders Association, and so is a lifetime committeeman. We got in every place without waiting in line because of his gold badge. I just looped my arm through his and smiled me way along. Did the same when we walked in the Chute Club at the stadium, before we went in to watch the rodeo, and later Keith Urban!

What a performer he is! And a guitar hero, on top of it all! He's much more rock and roll than he is country. In fact, my SO was squirming to leave by song number two. He is definitely NOT a rock and roll baby like me, not at all into screaming guitars. He's just enough older than me that there's that difference in our musical tastes. He's more about do-whop, the Everly Brothers, Jerry Lee Lewis, and all that 50s stuff. Plus, he's a country boy and loves all that Grand Old Opry stuff, too. Anyway, the concert was not for him, but I more or less ignored his discomfort and enjoyed the music, the performance, the crowd participation. It was a long, sore walk back to where we had parked the car. The dog was happy to see us when we returned to the motel. We fell in bed and slept like the dead.

Next morning, had a message on my cell from the SO's daughter-in-law that her grandmother had passed away, so we're in funeral mode here, now, expecting the crowd to arrive tomorrow for the Saturday morning funeral. In the middle of cleaning house for all this, the blind company called. The wooden blinds I ordered a few weeks ago had arrived. The installer came over to put them up. He was fast. Took about an hour and so now we have blinds in the main room. I can smell the new varnish on them. They match the wooden beams across the ceiling. But they also make the room dimmer. It's going to take some getting used to. The two windows that face towards the backyard may end up with blinds raised completely. I love looking out on this place, especially now with the wild flowers blooming their heads off all over the place, and with the grass turning green. I guess spring is my very most favorite time of year. I want to be outside every minute.

Nothing to say about writing, other than I'm not.

Onward ....

Dancing at the Cowboy Bar

We had a lovely night in Bandera. Took the new camper there to give it it's maiden voyage. Chose Bandera because it was close enough to the side of San Antonio where our friend was having major surgery, yet not in the city. We are both city-adverse most of the time. The park where we stayed was on the Medina River, a pretty river and wider at Bandera because of a Weir dam to slow its descent through the hills around there. We had both animals with us. Our camping kitty seemed enthralled with the new trailer, but the dog felt otherwise, mainly about the kitty being in such close proximity. I took her for long walks to keep her pouts to a minimum. She even took a wading stroll through along a shallow pebble bar, got in up to her belly and had to be dried off before we could reenter the trailer. She is such an avid explorer, and enjoys herself doing the least thing, whether it's savoring the taste of the clear Medina or nosing after skittering things underneath brambles.

That evening we bought steaks on our way back from the hospital. I thought we were intending to use the gas grill that came with the new trailer. We had a picnic table at our site and the air had turned cool. But the SO had something else entirely in his mind. He'd done his research, found that the Cowboy Bar, the place where we had stopped for a beer the evening before, still had their "steak night," a tradition he'd learned about on a sales trip five years before. The place had a large back patio with a toss of tables, bars, and various other places to gather around. Six enormous kettle style pits lined the patio, as well as a dance floor and a stage. On steak night, the public is invited to a barbecue party, bring your own steaks, and bottle too if you want something alcoholic besides beer. For $5 you get a plate and plastic silverwear, bread and a salad bar, with one side dish, plus the band and all the music you care to hear.

We arrived ten minutes after the party started. The best tables were already taken, so we opted for two seats on the end of a square bar under a wooden overhang facing the band and dance floor. We brought a bottle of Crown Royal, and my SO went for set-ups. We also had brought two thick rib eyes. I inspected the seasonings table over near the pits. There was everything from lite salt to Monterrey Steak Rub to cajun seasonings. And people were already cooking. The pits were also loaded with a plethora of cooking food: steaks, ribs, sausage, chicken breasts, shrimp kabobs, you name it.

Our tablemates ended up being two couples from Calgary, Alberta Canada. We enjoyed hearing about the places they had been. They were traveling in two Class A motorhomes and were not returning to Canada until mid-May. They were planning to head west towards California once they left Texas, but didn't seem in any rush to get there. They were interested in our new travel trailer and the fact that we were traveling with a dog and cat. They also wanted to hear the SO's rodeo and trailride stories. I thought for a minute he was going to mention me being a writer, but he interpreted the look I gave him just in time, and turned the topic. He knows I would rather my books were not mentioned so quickly in conversation with strangers. He used to do it a lot, until I told him how uncomfortable it makes me to talk about that to people I don't really know. It often takes the spontaneity out of the moment and diverts the conversation onto me and I'd always rather be the observer than the center.

So we seasoned our steaks, and he cooked while I went through the sides line. The salad was fresh but not particularly inventive: lettuce, cherry tomatoes, olives, onions, and crotons. Three kinds of dressing in squeeze bottles. There was a bread basket and tongs. I chose us both yeast rolls that had become kind of flatten, but turned out to be delicious even with cold whipped margerine. Macaroni and cheese was the only other side. The SO cooked our steaks to prefection, as usual, and the food, helped along by our whiskey drinks, seemed especially tasty. Our Canadian friends agreed to watch our jackets and my purse when "Amarillo By Morning" began to be played by the band, whose name I never learned. That song was the first one we ever danced to three years ago, and we've made a deal that we will always dance when we hear it. We've been able to keep that promise so far.

I used to be a good dancer but too many years of not having a partner or enough opportunity has ruined my ability. The SO however is quite stylish on the dancefloor, having that tall charm of his and a long stride. He covers lots of ground quickly, and throws in little grace note steps when you least expect them. I always feel people are watching us when they're probably not at all. But if they are, I suspect it's because of my long tall cowboy and not me, so I usually just try to hang on for the ride, and not stumble on his boots.

We had so much fun. Both of us talked about it after the lights were out at the trailer, with our animals snugged in the bed with us. This is the kind of life I always wanted, and I have it now. I realize every day how lucky I am. Some people never get what they want. Some people never know what they want. I'm not sure I did until the last three years. But this is it. Just this.

Onward ....

Amazing Cat and My Surprised Grandson

Well, it seems my grandson has discovered that his granna is a published writer. He called me over the weekend and wanted to talk about nothing else but my books, about doing book signings, about how long it takes to write a whole book. He was impressed that he could find me on Amazon and Google, and most impressive of all (to him), on eBay. It was cute and kind of surprising. Then he told me all about a story he wants to write, and I encouraged him to do it, and once he does, to send it to his granna to read. Gosh, I hope he will do both. I love that he's interested in writing, but also want so badly to read it if he does. I can just imagine how cute a 12-year-old boy's story would be to read, especially knowing him and the things he's interested in. It would probably be about a video game wizard, sort of like the pinball wizard of my day during that age. Anyway, what fun to have a good long telephone call from him. I'm usually the one who has to call. His email isn't working, so it's been a few weeks since we were in touch. I think he might come for at least one night during Spring Break, which is next week. We'll see.

Meanwhile, my kitty has amazed me. Who knew he would be such a good camper. We took him with us last weekend to the Coast, and while the car ride, with him yowling constantly, seemed endless, once we were there, he adapted quickly. We spent two nights, restless ones because he loved all over both of us, then came home on Sunday. Same yowling on the drive back. I hoped, misguidedly, that he might get past his fear of cars. Once back home, he acted purely astonished to find himself BACK in his old home. I think he believed we had moved for good again. I imagined him thinking to himself that we had certainly come down in the world. Back at the old house he'd had an entire floor to himself, and now we'd been reduced to three small rooms. Teehee~ someday a book, starring my cat.

We picked up the new travel trailer we bought and brought it home along with the cat. My SO's good friend is having open heart surgery in San Antonio. We wanted to bring the new trailer, but didn't like the looks of any of the RV parks there, so we continued further north to Bandera and are staying in a park on the Medina River, very pretty, walking distance to Old Town Bandera, which is much like something from a Western you'd see on Saturday afternoon television. We went to a couple of honky-tonks last night. Enjoyed ourselves looking around, then spent today at the hospital with our friends. Such a serious situation they face.

The kitty is with us here again, doing just superb. In fact, he's happier and calmer than the dog is, being in such close confines. The travel trailer is only 26 feet, so I just had no idea what to expect. The SO says I underestimate this old kitty cat. I guess he's right. He was some better on the drive -- much longer drive -- up here. We're leaving tomorrow, I think, and I'm already dreading the ride back home with the pitiful kitty whining the whole way. He's just not use to being in something that moves. Probably feels like a constant earthquake to him. I held him on my lap in the carrier the whole way, and I think that made him a little happier. New Mexico this summer is really going to be a long (LONG!) drive.

But we're camping. The four of us. We're doing a lot better than I would have ever dreamed in my wildest!

Onward ....

Rejection and a Camping Trip

Well, the first rejection letter came in on March 1. In like a lion. I reverted to my old "rule" of getting a manuscript back out there within 24 hours. I do have a list, of course, so this wasn't a difficult thing for me to do. I was jolted by the form letter, I will admit. Been a very long time since one of those came across my desk. This is character-building. I know it is, and I'm sticking to my intentions with this thing.

Spent the rest of the night looking through Writer's Market online. There's a lot of good information on there, although I feel it's incomplete. I know of many publishers who are not listed there, but it did give me a lot of things to think about. There's more than one way to make some money at writing than just the usual things a person thinks about. And in the end, maybe this will get me on GO. I'm just filled with ideas, and have to either decide to sit down and DO it or give it up altogether. Not really in a good place as regards my writing at the moment. There are so many other things taking the top spot in my mind lately.

Big weekend with the kitty. Taking him with us to the Coast -- a first. Might end up making us cut the trip short, but he has to take his medications three times per day, so there's just no way to leave him. Then next week my SO's good friend is having open-heart surgery and we're going to take the new travel trailer up there and break it in, also keep the vigil at the hospital. Another trip the kitty will have to make. This is probably going to be a hard week for the little fellow, but maybe he'll adapt quicker than I think. I've done everything I can think of to ease the way for him, including buying a can of calming spray to squirt around the places he'll be spending most of his time.

So we'll see how it goes. I'm just so happy he's on the mend.

Onward ....