Escrow Closes

Thursday Pat called and said escrow closed. We are no longer homeowners. It’s been so depressing thinking of the house empty and outside the planters John left abandoned – succulents, eggplant, tomatoes, flowers – because he didn’t have room to bring them. I’ve been worrying about deer eating the roses and the rabbits not having water in the pans I filled every morning.

So now I can stop worrying. The new owners will take care of everything. On the patio in this small rented house, Walter chomps on the manzanita log John brought him from Coarsegold, the last one he’ll ever know. I sit on the chaise pad Lynne & Paul gave us, as a housewarming gift, ten years ago. We were so hopeful then, excited at the thought of being neighbors on Quartz Mountain, before the casino was built, before they divorced.

Walter’s settling in. After living in the country all his life, he seems to like his twice-daily walks around the neighborhood or when I take him to the park. But I really struggle, trying to hold him back from chasing deer. Today I feel like collapsing into tears at the thought I’ll never again walk my trails in Coarsegold with him running free;  I’ll never stroke the smooth red-barked manzanita, or eat their sweet apple-flavored berries in the fall. I’ll never greet another lumbering tarantula as he tries to find his mate.

Out in the garage I visit Jane, the ornery cat, who’s adapting pretty well too.  I tried to make her an indoor cat but she attacked Audrey, so she’s back outside.  “Back home” her garage had a door to the outside and windows that looked out over the vegetable garden on the south side and the pond on the north; it even had windows in the door.

I remember lying on the white carpet, the door open, spring, or late fall, with sunlight flowing in as we looked out onto the island of bush lupine, a forest of oaks and towering bull pines.  I’d lie still and listen to the swoosh of humming birds whizzing from live oak to the feeder, the chirps of ground squirrels in the woodpile and the faintest click as blue-bellied lizards did push ups, signaling to each other, on their hill.  For it was their hill, after all, not ours, not mine.

There is enough space in this warm, box-packed garage for me to lie on the floor with Jane. She walks around me purring. The overhead light is on. Outside a chainsaw is running which is unusual, for I can’t recall any trees that need to be cut, in this constantly manicured community.

It goes on so long I get up and go in the house so I can look out the front-door window: a half-fence hides the bottom of a man wielding a chainsaw, his truck parked haphazardly on the street. 

So, someone’s hired him to carve . . something for Halloween?

Loyalties

Last night John and I watched game #1 of the World Series: Rangers at Giants. I said, “You root for Texas & I’ll root for San Francisco.” He had no problem with that because he has such animosity toward California and undying love for Texas. But for me it wasn’t so simple.

Growing up in Southern California, I felt that I was the luckiest girl in the world to grow up where the sun shone most of the year (barring of course the June gloom at the beach), and if we did want to experience snow, we could get in the car and be in the mountains in a few hours.

It wasn’t until I moved to San Francisco in 1970 that I discovered  everyone did not love L.A.  We were considered shallow and unsophisticated, more into our looks than books. The Bay Area was a hub of intellectual and cultural activity.    When I moved to Central California in 1990, I made friends with people who had grown up in places as far away as Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Kentucky. My husband was from Iowa, for goodness sake, which we Angelinos thought of as some sort of purgatory. I remember watching the news, as a child, and seeing reports of blizzards in the Midwest, saying, “Why would anyone live there?”

My father always brought up the weather when we talked. The temperature in his back yard never got over 80, or under 60. He didn’t own a coat. He spent most of his time in zories and thin cotton slacks and shirts.  He never understood that I actually grew to love cold weather (but not snow, which was just too much of a pain to shovel and hazardous to drive in) once I had leaned how to layer my clothing.

Now here I am in the South, where for my first month the weather has been hotter than normal and the sun is so bright!  How I’ll deal with summer I have no idea.  But, do I long for coolness San Francisco? Not at all. Do I wish I were in California. Not really.

I suppose my strongest loyalty is to the L.A. Lakers, because I’ve followed them since 1977. When Randy Newman sings “I love L.A.” I think, yeah, I do love L.A.  Yet when I’m there I just want to leave. I can’t stand the congestion and the unfriendly, snooty attitude of people on the streets.

My loyalties even vacillate with my pets: Some days I can’t stand my dog. He follows me from room to room when he’s in the house; when we walk he pulls on the leash; he eats God-knows-what that he finds in the road. But when he calms down and lets me brush him, I look into his big brown eyes and feel an inkling of something akin to love. But then I’ll  see someone walking a smaller, calmer dog and I’ll wish Walter were different.

I won’t touch on politics except to say I was raised by Liberals, married a Conservative and became a Libertarian in 1996. This seems to protect me from either side trying to “convert” me to their views.

So, where are my loyalties? Am I just a wishy-washy sort of gal, or is it that I can’t stand the idea of being against anyone. What’s always in the back of my mind is that we’re all struggling to live our lives and none of us can outrun the Grim Reaper. So I tend to look for similarities between us rather than differences.

Go Giants! . . .or Rangers.

Sonnet

I'm the only poet in the writing group I found. Everyone else works on essays, memoir, stories, etc.  Last week, one fellow, an old curmudgeon, didn't like that I had shared a poem that didn't rhyme. So I wrote this for him and shared it today:

California

Perhaps it’s true, that I’d become myopic

living my whole life on the West Coast.

Conversations focused on two topics:

how California had become a ghost

of its former thriving self and when the

big earthquake would strike - an 8.0 -

and kill us like the tar pits of La Brea

wiped out the dinosaurs so long ago.

There was a sense of doom that hung like smog

and colored everything. Reminds me of   

an early morning beach shrouded in fog.

You know the sun is somewhere up above

shining somewhere else, just not for us.

You see now why we chose to move to Texas?

He said it should be longer. I explained a sonnet is only 14 lines. He said, "Then write a different kind of poem!"  Maybe next week I should bring in a pantoum. To my California friends, I don't mean to offend you! It's just my observation of the state of my native state which I still love! 

Stonehenge

After working hard Saturday to get the dryer hooked up and the bed put together, we finally got a day off Sunday and were able to spend some fun time with our friends Michael & Holly, who live in North Carolina. They had been in Austin, so decided to drive out to see us -about a 90-minute drive.  

We had a Chinese lunch, then went down to the river.

It was a beautiful fall day and I loved watching two little boys, with their older brother and dad, swimming and playing in the water.  We saw turtles and ducks, little fishes, crawdads. When Holly & I wandered off to explore we talked to the woman who rents paddle boats, kayaks, and inner tubes. She said the river’s warm enough to swim in through November.  At the end of the day, when the people are all gone, she goes in the water and soon curious turtles emerge to check her out.

Then we drove to Ingram, about 10 miles away, where Texas Stonehenge is being relocated at the Arts Center. It’s 60% scale, cement over metal lath, and is about half done.  Also giant tiki heads.

Holly & I played Scrabble while the guys talked speakers. Then they departed and I was sad to see them go.

But, as is typical, we saw things we might not have seen if we had not had guests!

At the Laundromat

I don’t think I’d been to a Laundromat since about 1969 when Tom and I lived in North Hollywood.  But I could see that hooking up the dryer was not going to get done, what with John setting up his office.  I’ve been able to wash small things and hang them on my racks, but I hadn’t washed my sheets in three weeks and enough was enough!

I chose one near the Starbucks which I hadn’t yet visited. It was about 2 miles out of town. Why so far? I thought Starbucks would be right in the heart of downtown.  When I got there I understood: it’s not a usual Starbucks but a big beautiful building with the parking lot that slopes  down to the river, and a huge deck where one can sip coffee and take in the view of the wide water and rolling hills on the far shore.  I wish I

had time to sit and chat in the warm breeze, but I was on a mission.

While I did the wash, I read an article in the New Yorker about the Israeli novelist David Grossman.  Two well-dressed young guys came in and talked for a long time with the girl who works the drop-off laundry and dry cleaning service.  As they were leaving one of them mentioned Pao Gasol. I just blurted out, “What about Pao Gasol?”

And thus I was able to engage in a stimulating discussion about my favorite team. Turns out the guy works for the San Antonio Spurs and was in Kerrville as part of Fan Appreciation, giving away tickets. He’s originally from Hawthorne and is a Laker fan, too. “If you’re lucky enough to get to go to a Spurs game, you’ll see that have the people are Laker fans,” he told me.  All right!

The rest of the day was spent signing escrow papers, a bitter sweet process. We took them to the UPS store to be notarized. No charge. No fingerprint required (like in California).

Jane kitty was banished to the garage overnight, which allowed us to get good nights’ sleep.  The Rangers beat the Yankees! And I stayed awake for most of the Laker pre-season game. I’m not as sad at the thought of Phil Jackson retiring, when I see Brian Shaw taking his place. I’ve always loved Shaw and think he’ll be a great coach.

Finally, John Arrives

          John arrived safely!  Yesterday was an okay day for him – driving from Van Horn Texas to here, but the day before he experienced the hazards of travel: first, he reached into his ditty bag for a toothbrush and cut himself on a razor. He didn’t realize it until blood streamed down his arm. 

          Then, on a two-lane highway, going 65 (in the truck, pulling a trailer), a woman just had to pass.  In the oncoming lane was a semi. Both John and the semi driver hit their brakes and pulled onto the shoulder and let the woman pass, but they were really shaken. The semi laid on his horn. 

          While getting gas at a Texaco, he was washing the windshield when he heard water running. But it was not water, it was the gas nozzle, overflowing. It would not turn off!  His shoes, socks and cuffs got soaked as he wrestled with it and finally managed to turn it off. Going in to the convenience store, he told the woman behind the counter about what happened. She said,  “That happened yesterday, too!”  He was incredulous, so asked to talk to the manager. The manager came out and when John told him what happened responded, “Do you want a free coke?” John was so mad he told the guy he was an f-ing idiot and left. He threw away his socks and put his shoes in the bed of the truck to air out.

          But that was Tuesday.  Yesterday he arrived and I was so relieved to see him. I cried when he brought in Diane’s African violet and the corn plant that was his mother’s twenty years ago.  I’ve missed our houseplants almost as much as the trees outside our windows; the house just seemed dead without them.  He managed to bring a maiden hair fern, orchid and the tall one that was in my bedroom. Already the house seems cozier.

          We cuddled up on the couch and watched the Giants/Phillies game and I was happy that SF won. I loved seeing that beautiful city lit up, the bridge, the sparkling water, the boats. I will always love California! It’s my home, no matter where I “end up”.

          Now it’s Thursday and we have the adventure of unloading the trailer and trying to find places to put everything. A lot of it is his office furniture. I’m anxious to get curtains in the bedroom since our neighbor across the street has a light over his garage that shines directly into my bedroom.

          One day we’ll live where the sky gets dark at night and we hear crickets, not air conditioners. One day. Just not this one.

         

Writers & Roaches

I was impressed by the Dietert Senior Center. Big beautiful buildings. Lots of activities, including yoga and Scrabble which I may attend, as long as I have the time. Yesterday I went to the writing group.

The group was begun in August 2009 as an 8-week course on all aspects of writing and getting published. But everyone liked each other so much they kept going. Participants bring in whatever they’re writing, for critique, up to 2 pages.

The instructor, here five years from Massachusetts, is a friend of the poet I spoke to last week. I was careful not to “take over” like I am apt to do, but did offer suggestions, mostly grammatical, on what was read. A curmudgeonly old fellow insists that poems must rhyme. He wrote an Ode to the Mesquite Tree, that I had to point out was not an ode, being written in the voice of the tree. He would have none of it! He would do whatever he wanted!

When it came time for me to share, I read “Days of Dresses” because I wanted something upbeat that people of my generation could relate to. The old coot said he had a hard time finding anything wrong with it, except that it did not rhyme. I’m going to write him a sonnet so he can see that rhyme doesn’t have to make for awkward language and uncertain meaning.

Afterward I asked the instructor if she minded if I were to offer a free one-day workshop, to try to get students for an ongoing poetry class. She said no and suggested that we get together soon with her friend.  We both agreed that Texans are exceptionally welcoming and this is a beautiful place to live. She said I’ll find the variety of people fascinating.  Just in the group one woman is an ex-nun, one fellow an ex-preacher, one a Mason, another a retired school teacher.  The class is $5 a week for non- members, $4 for members.  I wonder if that’s all she gets, of if she gets paid a higher rate and the donations go to the center. . .?

Online it said the class was from 1-2 but it didn’t end till 2:30 and then we stood talking, so it was 3:00 by the time I got home and remembered I hadn’t eaten lunch.  Food just doesn't interest me these days.

I read/rested with Jane kitty and did my usual afternoon routine with Walter.  John drove from Tucson to Van Horn TX.  When we talked I told him I was tired and going to sleep early.  But, watching TV in the living room I saw, from the corner of my eye, something run across the floor. A giant cockroach! And I mean giant, as big as those beetles in Coarsegold that bang against the screens in the summer: about 2” long, an inch wide, with 3” feelers.

“Walter!” I shouted, “Get it!”  He got up from his nap and scurried around but it outsmarted him and went behind a bookcase. I waited. I got ready a glass and piece of cardboard, planning to do what I do with spiders, catch and release.

But man, oh man, this guy was pissed off. When I got the glass over him he jumped, squealed, flapped his wings, rolled over and generally let me know that he was not going down easily. 

I realized that letting him (or her) go was not a good idea. I was not about to try to squish it – imagine the mess – so I carried it into the kitchen. I turned on the faucet and ran the garbage disposal. I carefully slide the glass/cardboard over the counter and let the bug fall into the sink. It was

so fast and strong it started running up the side of the sink. The force of the water was not enough to wash it down. I had to get a big knife and push and stab at it, as it fought back, until finally I won.

There’s a space between the floor and the door going out into the patio. I guess that’s where it came in.  We’ll have to plug it up. I sure hope this variety isn’t as prolific as the cockroaches that plagued us in Topanga – dozens, (hundreds?) of the little devils would come out at night. I remember Tom, lying in wait, then flicking on the light and, like a Kamikaze pilot, scream as he released a can of Raid all over everything.  We never won that battle.

The adrenaline from murdering the monstrous bug revived me. I watched “Chopped” and then the Rangers beat the Yankees.  Don’t get complacent Rangers, the Yankees are a come-back team. Tenacious as cockroaches.

Welcome!

October 19, 2010

Cloudy and humid this morning. Feel like I’m in the tropics. Yesterday I got fingerprinted so I can teach in the schools. In the evening I received a call from a member of the Kerrville Welcome Committee. She asked what our interests are (do we have any?) and said she’ll stop by next week with our packet – restaurant coupons etc. 

I promised myself I would not bad mouth California once I left, but I remember how the mountain “locals” hated summer tourists and new people moving in to the community. Even John was guilty of this: “Blow up the bridge!”  he’d say – meaning the bridge over the Fresno river (which was usually completely dry) that separated the valley from the foothills.

It was the same “go home!” attitude I remember growing up in Santa Monica. “No Vals” could be seen graffitied on beach walls, meaning surfers from the San Fernando Valley were not welcome. My father used to pride himself on not going “east of Sepulveda.”  Little cliques.  Keep out the riff raff.  John calls it the “Upstairs/downstairs mentality.”

I haven’t experienced that here. People are curious about why we chose Kerrville – for the climate, landscape, culture, I tell them  – but not why we’d choose Texas. Texans have a sense of pride about their state.      

Today I’m going to the Senior Center for a writing class. They have a full slate of activities every weekday: yoga, bridge, Scrabble (!!!), art, etc.

And tomorrow, finally! John will arrive. I can’t wait to see him and get him settled in so we can explore this interesting country together.

Moody Monday

Monday: Moon in Pisces, don’t want to leave dreamland and get out of bed but Walter’s fussing in the hall, Jane’s crying her head off in John’s room and Audrey keeps putting her wet nose on mine.

The morning is muggy – 60 degrees, cloudy. When I open the door and ask if Walter wants to go out onto the patio, Audrey runs out. I worry because we’re only one house from the corner of a major thoroughfare (there’s a stop sign, but still . . .) but I know better than to chase a cat, so I leave her there, with the door open and go get dressed.

She’s in the front yard when I come back, munching grass. All the animals, and I, are craving the wilds, but the reality is we live in a neighborhood now, so I put the leash on Walter, two plastic bags in my pocket, my radio in my ears and head out.

This weekend I visited Hastings Bookstore and loved it. They have used books in with new ones. A pretty good poetry section. I bought a sweet little book called Poetry to Heal Your Blues edited by Marilyn Hacker. I had never read “i thank You God” by e.e. cummings before. Beautiful poem/prayer reminds me the song/chant we sing at Unity Church - 7 rounds of “I am so blessed, I am so blessed, I am so grateful for all that I have . . .” concentrating on each of the seven charkas.   

I tried to stay awake for the Laker/Nugget game, that started at 9:45, but only made it through the first half. I’ve adapted to the time change and am asleep by 11:00 every night, so I’ll just have to be content with checking scores the next morning. <sigh>

John finally left Coarsegold Sunday afternoon. I am grateful to friends who came to help him these last 3 weeks. He could not have done it without you.  My heart aches to think that “our” house is now empty. I hope escrow closes soon so that Debbie & Jonathan can fill it up again!

I wonder if I’ll ever get over missing the conejos, manzanita, lupine, crows, all the things that connected me to the earth. Maybe I should join one of the many nature groups here – bird watchers, gardeners, etc. Nah. That’s not my style. I just have to be patient and hold to the idea that within a year or two we’ll move further up into the hills where the kitty can catch mice and Walter can roll in the dirt again. 

Must Find Poets!

Yesterday I talked to Anne Schneider, a poet, mask maker and Reiki practitioner/instructor. She said there is a Kerrville writers group but (1) it meets on the first and third Mondays, so I can’t go because I watch Dancing with the Stars! and (2) there are no poets in the group.

Texas Writers League is headquartered in San Antonio. They have lots of events going on this weekend and have an interesting roster of writers I hope to meet, eventually.  S.A. is about an hour away.

I’m going to start looking for a location to offer a free poetry/creative writing workshop and see if anyone shows up. If they do, maybe I can get a group going.

Today is a lovely fall Saturday. I’m going out to explore. John’s almost ready to depart. I wish I could help him. Tonight Lakers pre-season vs. Nuggets. Hope I can stay awake. I fell asleep last night after the 8^th inning of the Yankee/Rangers game. Damn those Yankees!

School!

When John first told me he was debating between Fredericksburg and Kerrville, I did some research online. I found that one of the Kerrville elementary schools had put on a student poetry reading.  I waited until I was actually here to call the school and was happily surprised when the principal called me back within a few hours.

Yesterday I had my appointment. I Googled the directions, which said it would take about 7 minutes. I allowed 15. Of course I got lost! Well, not lost exactly. The problem was I can’t print out directions (because my printer is still in Coarsegold) and I only wrote down the NAMES of the streets, not the highway NUMBERS. So I had no idea where I was. I stopped at a gas station, called school and found I was quite close and got there on time.

I’m having a hard time adapting to how Texas marks their roads. Instead of the huge green signs I’m used to at intersections, they’ll have small square white signs posted before the intersection, a whole cluster of them pointing every which way. Texas 16 North, Texas 16 South, 273 Loop. (What’s a loop?) Plus, many routes change names as they go. Highway 27 starts as

Main Highway

, becomes

Memorial Blvd.

, then Broadway, then

Main Street

then

Junction Hwy

! The main North-South thoroughfare is Sidney Baker which splits into

Medina Hwy

and

Bandera Hwy.

I need to find out who he was.

The other thing that’s confusing is how signal lights are stung on wires over the intersection.  It’s taking time to remember to look there!

How good it felt to be back at school! But how different to go inside a building with long highly-polished white, red and blue floors and white tiled walls. It was so spanking clean!  I have never seen a California School that well maintained.

The principal, a petite blonde wore a cute sleeveless black dress. She introduced me to another young woman who works with the four fourth grade classes (the K-5 school has 600 students!) and we all went into her office. I pulled, from my CPITS canvas bag, binders of kids’ chapbooks, examples of After School Writing Club flyers, a couple CPITS anthologies, my book of lessons, and leafed through some clippings – trying to give them an idea of what I’ve done.

They told me they were thrilled that I’d called and they will definitely use me. We talked about gifted programs, bi-lingual students, under achievers, how I could work with each of them.  The plan is that while they talk to teachers and decide how to use me, I should register at the temp agency who sends independent contractors into schools.  The pay is $25.00 per hour.  This is about what I made working for the Madera schools but Madera was a good 37 miles away!

I also met the woman who coordinated the poetry reading. Another will be taking place in November and I’ve been asked to be a guest speaker. I felt like I was meeting a rock star. This is the woman I’d Googled! Here I actually was, standing in her room, shaking her hand, being warmly greeted and chatting about the things that are most important to me!

I found the agency, located in a beautiful old house with polished wood floors and wainscoting. I filled out lots of papers, had to take a drug pee test. I’ll get fingerprinted next week.  The owner was so helpful when I told her I’m brand new here, recommended her vet and told me about First Friday Wine Share – bring a bottle of wine and your own glasses.  Sounds like fun to me!

Asking about poets/writers, a woman from the next room came in and told me about a friend of hers who is a poet and tai chi teacher. I got her name and sent her an email.

John kept telling me how friendly Texans are but experiencing it first hand has been wonderful, especially since he’s still hung up in California – slowly but surely getting things done – and not here to take me around.

By the time he gets here I’ll know more about Kerrville than he does!

Sorting Books

The confusion about volunteering at the library was finally cleared up yesterday. Turns out there are two groups of volunteers, those at the library and those working as Friends of the Library. The two groups are very “upstairs-downstairs”, literally.   The librarian said, “Don’t come in to the library. Go around the back to the loading dock.”

I had misgivings about working in a basement but as soon as I opened the door and saw the huge space, rows and rows of shelves, I was fine. Kay’s granddaughter, Michelle, who had twins five months ago, is the coordinator.  She has short very black hair, which she said last week was turquoise. I liked her immediately.  I met some volunteers, elderly men and women, who one by one left while I was there.

Michelle explained that the two groups raise money for different projects. Friends has quarterly book sales, so we’re getting ready for November 12-13. Friends will have first crack at the books on Friday, open to the public Saturday.

The “regular” library volunteers are probably more into white wine galas. But I don’t care. I loved being in that big quiet space with all those used books.

Michelle put me to work shelving science books.  I soon found that some books were misfiled and that there was shelf space between dog/cats, rivers/oceans and astronomy/physics, so I had to move things around. I was in heaven! I made it my goal to get the whole row re-sorted.

I’ve always loved sorting. I remember working at the Sand & Sea Club on Sundays, opening the drawer of receipts from the day before, and being happy when there was a big thick stack of pink slips from the bar.

I’d sit at my desk and make piles: the Cabana members, the 100s (original members), the 1000s (Doug’s volleyball friends who got in free), the 2000s (members from and before my first tour of duty at the club), the 4000s (singles) and then the 8000s which I started in 1983, so that I could tell by looking at their number what year they joined.

The gin players were the heaviest drinkers, followed by paddle tennis players. I could tell when someone bought a round.  The most popular drink was called a “Grabber”, the pink drink bartender Zeke Webster created which had grapefruit, grenadine and at least four different kinds of booze. It tasted great and could land you on your ass if you weren’t careful.

Sorting books gave me the same sort of satisfaction, making order out of chaos. My natural curiosity was piqued when I’d find a book that had a cryptic title.  Happily I finished my task with rivers/oceans on a bottom shelf and astronomy on the next top shelf which seemed only logical.

Before I left I made sure the spines were all straight. I called to Michelle, “Come see!” and she admired my work. Next week I get to deal with the horrible mess of gardening books. The volunteer quit. It’s going to be a huge task.

I can’t wait!

Letting Go

Here’s how I got Walter out of the car yesterday :  I drove around the neighborhood and when we got back, parked in the street. He jumped right out!

I’m getting antsy for John to return. I feel bad that he’s sleeping (or trying to sleep) on the floor, repacking, cleaning the house, doing business. He says he may have to do laundry in the tub. I should not complain, I have a nice comfy bed, my pets and my big TV to watch.

However, I think I should complain because everyone keeps saying, “You’re doing so well!”  Yes and no. I’m keeping busy, which is different.  When I stop to think that this move is permanent, that I’m not on a trip, I just want to cry. I had such a wonderful life in Coarsegold, from my home life to teaching to friends. Yeah, sure, I was sad when Yoko sold Kyoto Kafe, and I was disgusted when the casino was built. But every single day I’d wake up to that breathtaking view of Shut Eye, peace and quiet and fill my lungs with that delicious California air.

Here, the nights have been cooling off and I want to sleep with the windows open but the neighbors keep their a/c running all night! I want to say something, but the house on one side is unoccupied (the owner will return from Colorado when it gets cold there) and I have not met the people in the other one. Plus, who am I to tell people what to do?  So I close the window.

I think my biggest gripe is that TV shows are on an hour earlier. Once the time changes and it gets dark earlier, it will not seem so strange. I had told John, before we moved, that I wanted to get the NBA league pass, so I could watch my Lakers, but most of the games will start at 9:45 p.m.   I’ll get 28 games on regular TV, so this may be the way I wean myself from my 33-year addiction. Once Kobe retires – or God forbid, gets too old to play well – will I stop being a Laker fan? NO! Right now I’m looking at the cover of Newsweek from Feb 12, 1996 with Magic Johnson “New Hope for Living Longer with HIV”.  I’ll always love Magic.

On the other hand, I remember that when I lived in LA the Oscars were such a big deal.  I went to movies twice a week. Most of my boyfriends had some connection to Hollywood.  Then, when I left LA, I’d watch the show on TV. I even had a party once, where we got all dressed up to watch. But gradually Hollywood movies lost their appeal and now, although I watch the show, I really don’t care who wins.

Ah. Letting go. Sometimes our hands just get too weak to hold on and we have no choice. 

First Thunder Storm

Went to the county offices and found that you can’t get a driver license until you register your car, which I can’t do till John gets here, since it’s in his name. What happens to a person without a car?  Saw a lawyer in the hallway on his cell phone, in suit and cowboy boots.

I went home and did boring filing and cleaning and looked forward to Dancing with the Stars.  After Walter’s walk, I played catch with him in the fenced-in patio. I sat down on the step and petted him and had a sudden pang – I miss my rabbits!

Every night, in Coarsegold, the wild rabbits came to munch. I was amazed at how they’d just happily chomp on dead grass. Sometimes I put kitchen scraps out for them. I loved seeing them scurry when we’d drive in, and in the mornings when I took Walter out there were always one or two he’d chase – but never catch.

I sat on the steps and started to cry. I missed the ground squirrels, too, their chirps, and how they’d run with their tails in the air. I remember one day when two were playing in my tire well, just having a great old time, scampering with Jane (cat) and Walter not giving them a second look.

I miss the crows I used to see – and talk to - in the mornings, I miss lizards and how they’d do their “push ups”. I miss the coveys of quail fluttering out of the way of cars. I miss the sound of frogs and crickets at night.  I even miss the howls of coyotes. As I thought of each critter, their sounds and how surrounded by LIFE I was back in CG, the tears just flowed.

Once John gets here and puts some planters in the patio, I’ll have something living to look at again. We don’t’ even have any houseplants, yet.  I hope he’ll find a place to put the humming bird feeder and they’ll find us.

After DWTS was over, flashes in the sky started to appear and soon, thunder. Walter got nervous and sat between the couch and coffee table where I petted his head.  But soon there were big booms and it sounded like hail – it wasn’t, just loud rain – and he started shivering. I got up to turn off the lights and go to bed. He followed me, pacing nervously. When I went in to say goodnight to Jane, he followed and suddenly he started to pee on a towel I’d put on the floor for her!

I yelled and grabbed him, flung the towel in the tub and locked him in the laundry room.  I had a great night’s sleep, not hearing him whining in the hall. But this morning I felt bad about it, so we went to the park for our walk. The air was fresh and it did us both good. I could hardly restrain him when he tried to chase a deer. Now he’s once again refusing to get out of the car. Fine. He can stay there all day, for all I care.

Wonderful Weekend

Saturday I took the interview I’d written to Dell Sheftall for him to proof-read. Spend another hour and a half with him. Had to run some errands, came back and spent another hour listening to stories, laughing, crying.

He truly is an interesting man and I want to encourage him to tell his stories!

I walked down the street to a lovely used bookstore and bought an early Ann Patchett novel, then went across the street to the Art Center, in the converted old post office building.  Two displays – photography & quilts. Some beautiful stuff. And a gift shop with items I wish I could afford.

Then I got a mango smoothie at a little restaurant which I’ll try sometime soon. The owner is from Woodland Hills.

On Sunday I went to Unity of the Hills church. As soon as I walked in the door I felt at home. During the meditation (“I am so blessed, I am so grateful”) tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt as if all the love and gratitude that’s been mixed up in anxiety and worry was released. I AM grateful for my life, my husband, friends, family, pets, and the open, encouraging people I’ve met here.

The female minister worked in Santa Barbara eleven years! I chatted afterwards in the refreshment room and then accepted an invitation to lunch. There were 8 of us.  A darling couple, who drives 90 minutes to attend Unity, are new, too, having been attending about a month. It was sure nice to talk to people about the brain, mind, spirit, advances in science, etc. Yet, also laugh a lot.

I do miss the Positive Living Center; as Angelo often says, every week is an event!  I want to sing the words I’m used to: “Yes, there is love on earth, and it has begun with me. . .” not the traditional “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”   And at the end of the Prayer of Protection say, “And so it is!”  Unity is more restrained, more traditional. But just like Oakhurst, most of the congregation is middle aged and female.  One little boy at Sunday School.

This morning I emailed my interview to the magazine and of course was told it needs to be cut, less emphasis on history, more on why Mr. S. likes Kerrville, the Chamber, etc. His store is closed today, so tomorrow I’ll go back again and see if I can get the information they want.

First rainy day – kind of drizzly. 70 degrees. Windows open. Off to get a driver license. . .

My First Assignment!

Just as I posted my blog yesterday, the phone rang. It was Morgan from Kerrville Area Business News (the monthly Chamber of Commerce magazine). His writer was sick. Would I be able to do an interview this morning. Yes! I said, although I was still in my dog-walking clothes, no make-up, hadn’t eaten and Walter was in the back seat, refusing to get out of the car.

I ended up taking Walter with me, to the historic downtown – which I had never seen before – and left him in the car with the windows open.

Sheftall’s Jewelers is in the old, renovated, Masonic Building. What a lovely store. I was so underdressed!  A petite blonde woman sat at a front table, “You look like me!” I couldn’t help saying. We laughed. Later I found that she’s a cousin who lost her home in Katrina and settled here five years ago. I really liked her and would like to visit her again.

I met darling Drew, who will do the layout of the article. She’s originally from Long Beach; her husband is in the military so she’ll only be here a short time until they move them again. Morgan had taken photos.  After they left and I sat, absolutely enthralled, listening to Dell Sheftall’s story and taking notes.

I was embarrassed, twice, when I had to ask him to pass me a Kleenex. I felt so unprofessional, but the story of his experiences in World War II was heart-breaking. Of 240 men in his company, eighteen returned unharmed. He was one of the lucky ones.   This charming man, in a three-piece suit, remembered every name, date and cost of a meal! His mind is sharp and his manner gracious.  The fact that his wife is named Audrey (like my beloved cat) and that she was his high-school sweetheart, and they worked together for twenty-five years, added to my admiration of him.

I finally had to interject, “Do you know I’ve been here two and a half hours?”  He said, “No!”  I told him I would love to stay all day and listen but I had a lunch date.  I’ve found that Texans love to talk, and listen. I told John, “Everyone here is so inter-active!”  There is not that sense of distraction that people in California seem to have, as if they’re thinking about something else all the time.

Deborah was waiting for me at the house and Walter finally got out of the car, but he growled at her. Once inside, he was okay. But I’m worried that he’s becoming aggressive. John thinks he may be in pain. Today he’s better, happier; we walked in the neighborhood for half-an-hour and he got to see the deer. But I don’t want to take him in the car again until John returns.

Deborah took me to the little town of Comfort, where we sat outside and had a delicious lunch at High’s Café. It felt like Marin County except for the fact that the town is one block long with two-story old-west buildings. It was nice to catch up.  She’s still friends with many of the girls I grew up with, as am I, so we had a lot to fill in. She absolutely loves Texas and has made a great life for herself with Lee, who I look forward to meeting.

(Friends who are on Facebook have seen some of her beautiful paintings. If you haven’t check her out: Deborah Harrington)

After lunch Deborah helped me hang some more paintings.  After she left, I took the doggy out, wrote the first draft of my interview and emailed it to Dell to read. I sent it to John, too, who said “it doesn’t flow like your usual writing.”    

Now I must call my mother, who came home from the hospital last night. Thank you, everyone, who’s sent your healing thoughts to Alice!

Social Day!

Thursday started out with a lovely walk with Walter in Kerrville-Schreiner Park.  Went to the river-side and didn’t see any people. When we got back he would not get out of the car! I let him stay a while then coaxed him out with turkey.

I left a message for the Principal at Daniels Elementary, the director of Club ED (adult education) and emailed the teacher I met last weekend, the one who lived in Malaysia. The Principal called back and I’m meeting with her next week. This is the school that put on a poetry reading for kids last year. They’ll do it again next month, she told me. When I asked if I could come she said, “Of course, but we want to get you on board before that.”  I hope this means paid work!  But I’m always willing to volunteer to get my foot in the door.

I had a nice long talk with Katherine. She and Andrew were on their way from the Bay Area to LA.  She’s having great turnouts at her book signings and loved seeing Joan after so many years.

My mother sounded much better. I called when the doctor was there examining her leg. He said she can go home today (Friday). I gave her the phone number of the 24-hour staffing agency. Once she’s settled, with someone to care for her, she and all of us will be greatly relieved.

I was happy to get the Laker/Barcelona game, even though they lost. It was still fun to see Kobe, Derek, Lamar, Pao. Some newcomers. Phil with a beard. Oh how I love my Lakers! I have my Kobe “action figure” front and center on the mantle.  He’s thirty-two years old now, though, so I’m already feeling pangs – are his best years behind him?  Supposedly Kevin Durant is the up-and-coming star coaches say they’d want on their team.

I expected the Chamber event to be like the ones I attended in Oakhurst. A straggly bunch of people desperately trying to stay in business. Was I surprised! It was a showcase, a hall and banquet room full of tables. Lots of delicious food (which I didn’t eat, I was talking the whole time!) and wine (didn’t drink because I was driving).  I had a fun talk with the Community and Cultivation Specialist of the Girl Scouts. I’d love to  work with all girls and asked if they’d consider creative writing. Wouldn’t it be great if it was a badge requirement? 

Just as I was taking a drink of water, a young man snapped a photo of two guys in front of me. “Wait!” I cried, and followed him. “Did you take a picture of me drinking?”  He found the review button and I was half hidden behind one of the men. “My dad was a professional photo-grapher,” I told him. “I don’t believe in candid shots!”  

Turns out he works for the Chamber, on their monthly magazine. I told him what I do and he asked if I’d been published and I told him a little about my writing and so there may be an opportunity for me to do some interviews for the magazine.

In all, I came home with 16 business cards – banker, computer repair, Hill Country Wine Tours (for my birthday next year?), transmission specialist.  I had so much fun.

But I was so tired, I went to bed at 9:30 and slept till 7:30!  Walter and I walked in the park (54 degrees) and now he’s in the back seat, refusing to get out of the car again. . . .

I Meet Our Landlord

Wednesday, Oct 6th:

My poor mother’s back in the hospital. Could hardly talk. Said she felt like throwing up. Lauren emailed photo: Alice’s entire lower leg is bright red and swollen. Cellulitis. She’s on heavy antibiotics. I researched  getting live-in help for when she’s released. Her doctor is out of town until Friday. I reached him in Oregon. He said, “She’s ok. She’ll be ok.” but I wonder.  Although, he was very honest when my father was dying, which my mom hated – she wanted to believe he would recover.

I feel like I’m in a glass cocoon; observing but unable to be of real help.

Called Kay, who I was going to meet at the library at 1:00 and told her my tail light was out, could she recommend someone. The place she recommended was hard to find – small winding road “before the bridge”.

I stopped for directions at a very crowded garage, many, many cars, and one guy sitting in a little office. He gave me directions to continue on.  I finally found the place.  One big guy with curly hair had his worker pop my trunk and pull out the bad light. The whole thing took about ten minutes and cost $5.00.

When I got back I decided to wash the car, wondering if I was breaking a

one of Riverhill’s CC&Rs.

At the library I found out I have to fill out a form to be a volunteer. So I did.  A guy about 65, with white hair/beard turns out to be the same person I saw yesterday at Schreiner Park, who told me my tail light was out. He’s a volunteer named John. “I can remember that,” I told him, “My husband is named John. Just don’t let me call you honey.”

The library is in a round two-story building with a balcony of windows. Very lovely. But they’re going to remodel it and create two play spaces for kids outside, by the river.

I got a library card and introduced myself to a woman behind the reference desk, Pat. I told her about my teaching and she said the head librarian left and nothing can be presented until the position is filled.

Back at the house I read my first edition of the Kerrville Daily. Lots going on. John’s going to miss an astronomy meeting this weekend. I’m going to look into Club Ed – which offers a variety of classes around town and on-line.

Sent Doug Badt a birthday card. He’ll be 92 October 10^th!

I decided to bundle up all the boxes I’ve broken down. I got hot, working, so took off my bra and pinned up my hair.  A few minutes into it Walter started growling and barking.  He nearly ran out when I went to the door. The landlord with the lease to sign, and a fire alarm to install.  A tall, kindly fellow, soft-spoken, doesn’t look his 80 years. I got him to replace light bulbs in the laundry room and hall. Walter went ape-shit when his dog – a Jack Russell – jumped out of the truck and was sniffing around the house. When the landlord went out to his truck I ran into the bedroom and put on a bra. At least I wasn’t naked! I should keep a robe or something near the front door, just in case.

John called to say that he checked our mailbox in Coarsegold and it was crammed full. Our mail is not been forwarded even though I received  confirmation from the post office. It’s because I did it on line. The message probably never to go the local P.O.

John’s busy, cleaning up the house and it’s raining there. Not here. Just sun, sun, sun.

I was so worried about Walter’s aggressive behavior with the landlord’s dog that I decided not to take him to the park. I walked in circles on the vacant lot next to us, lap after lap, until he stopped leading and followed me. He pooped in the grass and I left it there.

Back to Nature

I finally went to Kerrville-Schreiner Park today (2 miles from my house) and got a year's pass for $25. Sat by the Guadalupe River and just looked at pollywogs and butterflies and let the breeze wash over me. I felt so much better!  I've been craving wildlife and have had the heebie jeebies living in this development.

When I went to CVS Pharmacy to put my photos on a disc, the nice clerks explained that we're living in a "senior community" (they didn't say that, they said "old"!) but that the rest of the area is not like that. Thank goodness! When John gets back we'll explore the out-lying areas. I see on the map there are many little communities in the hills but this is something we can explore together.

Everywhere I've gone, people are willing to talk, whether there are people waiting in line or not. Texans are extremely patient. I kept saying, "Do you want to help the next customer?"

The fellow behind me, on crutches, wanted to warn me against a certain building contractor. I explained that we'll never build another house but he still wanted to tell me his story. Then he went on to tell me about his cancer, how he has no pelvis on the right side. The doctors said he'd never walk again, but here he is!  He talked about 20 minutes. I started inching out to the parking lot, where we talked so more.

Here's another view of the park, a part of the river where people can fish.

Across the highway is the rest of the park with 7 miles of trails, camp grounds, a pool (open in summer only) etc. I can't wait to spend time there, with or without Walter. I asked if they include any arts at their summer camp, told them what I do, and left my card.+

For now I'm acquainting myself with town. Tomorrow I'm volunteering at the library (sorting books) and Thursday there's a Chamber Mixer.

I must find friends and I must find work!

Finally, a Sleep Solution

I was determined to get a good night’s sleep last night so after watching Dancing with the Stars – which always improves my mood, I find myself smiling (sometimes with tears) through the show – I took a nice hot bath in Epsom Salts, with Jane kitty sitting by the tub, purring up at me. Remember, this cat has always lived in the garage/outside. She has no idea what a bath is. I told her it was like going in the pool, only smaller and she seemed to get that.

I petted her a long time, gave her more dry food, and locked her into that bathroom – which is carpeted and includes a big walk-in closet. I left a pillow for her to sleep on.

I put two chairs at the end of the hall, so Walter could not sleep outside my door and whimper.  Locked myself in with Audrey. Opened a window. Read (started “Dewey”) until 11:00 and slept until 6:30, remembering my dream which culminated in these two cute young guys in very short shorts (their new uniforms).

What a difference a good night’s sleep makes! The morning was cold, in the 40’s and the sun did not come up until after 7:30.  I encountered my neighbor across the street who was a little snippy with me yesterday when I called to ask if I could borrow a rake. She was nicer this morning. Her daughter lives in Camarillo, which she pronounced like Amarillo.

Last week the landlord sent someone to mow the lawn but they didn’t rake it, so the dry grass on top looked pretty scruffy. I don’t want to get in trouble in this pristine neighborhood! so I was out there raking when the Purdys came by.  I told them the deer look like antelope and he said they were, they were imported from somewhere. The man down the street feeds them every night at dusk.  I told them about my father feeding raccoons and how much I miss the rabbits in Coarsegold. I miss them so much at dusk, I miss the crows, the ground squirrels, tree squirrels, even the coyotes.

John says this place is our purgatory and that in a few years we’ll be back in the country, or at least living where we don’t have to put lawn clippings in bags and pick up dog poop.  I’m collecting all the bags of Walter’s poop in a big bag in the freezer. Then it will go out on trash day. I can’t stand the smell of it, stinking up the garage.

I hope he’ll live long enough to get to run wild again.

First Sunday

Terrible night. I let Jane and Walter loose in the house and at about 3:00 a.m. I heard them fussing, her hissing. Put her back in John’s room. Went back to sleep. Then Walter started whining. Got up and tried to make him go out the front door to pee. The light over the across-the-street neighbor’s garage made me realize I was completely naked. Closed the front door and made Walter go into the patio.  Back to bed. Had just fallen asleep when he started barking. Made him come back in. Hope I’m not in trouble with the neighbors. Tried to go back to sleep. Finally did. Before dawn Jane started meowing, screaming really. Got up and went into John’s room and laid down on the bed with her for half an hour. Forced myself to get dressed and take Walter out. Got to hear Will Shortz on NPR. I’m bummed that I don’t get Bob & Tom on the radio, or Regis & Kelly on TV weekday mornings. They always made me laugh.

I didn’t make it to Bhakti Yoga Devotion, or the Methodist Church. Both would have made me feel better but I didn’t have the energy to get dressed.

Talked to my mom, then called my niece Tracy, who was the voice of reason. We must get a nurse in to help Alice. She’s sick and can’t take care of herself.  Since my nieces and sister work full time I’ll see if I can help find someone.

Called Christina to wish her a happy birthday. Asked if she’s been reading my blog. “Oh now, I don’t do blogs!” she said.

John in Coarsegold got the couch loaded yesterday with Keith’s help. Put it in the back of his truck. Weather forecast was for rain, which John doubted, but he threw a tarp over it. He slept on the floor and woke up to pouring rain. Today he drives up to Weed to meet up with Brian then will find a cheap hotel half way back.  He has a lot to do in Coarsegold that I thought was already done: cleaning out his storage, loading up what’s left, cleaning the house, emptying planters. This may take a while.

So, I’m back to unpacking. Went through three boxes of framed photos of friends and family and found spaces for about half of them. Put the cookbooks away.   I need to get photos on a disc since I can’t hook my camera up directly to my computer.

Since today was my “down” day I’m expecting tomorrow to be much better!

My First (Wonderful) Saturday

Yesterday Gwen, from The Yoga Space, told me about a meeting today of the American Associate of University Women, with the featured talk being about women in Islamic Society.

The speaker was a Jewish American woman (who happens to be in charge of the art programs at Ingram High School). She met, at a play in London, a Malaysian dignitary and ended up marrying him and living with him in Malaysia.  She reminded me of a cross between Jane Alexander & Rita Rudner. Her talk included a slide show and personal anecdotes and was fascinating. I introduced myself afterwards, asked her if she knew about Poetry Out Loud (she didn’t) and told her I’m going to call her at school.

Lunch followed. The women at my table were friendly and warm. One of them volunteers at the library and asked if I’d like to help sort books for their book sale. Of course! Driving home, I passed it – a lovely round modern building, I can’t wait to be affiliated with the library, get a library card and start reading again!

She and I were the last two people to leave – she grew up in Auburn CA, which is very similar in typography to the Coarsegold/Oakhurst area, so we talked about our love of the mountains and how the Hill Country here is very similar. You just don’t have the high Sierras in the background.

My poor mother is home now but swelling up like a balloon. I’m not sure if it’s from the antibiotics, or what. Her main doctor is on vacation. Lauren’s been a big help but she’s not a doctor, so we have to wait until Dr. Yank returns from where ever he is.

This afternoon I started hanging paintings and can’ t find The Tadpole Galaxy. I talked to John in Coarsegold – where he said there was thunder but no rain – and he said it’s not there, that I have it somewhere. ARRGGGHHH! I do not see it. And I thought I was so organized!

I did clear 1/2 the garage, though, and can park inside. Yay.

Also, on the way home today I picked up the schedule of classes at Yoga Space and note there is Bhakti Yoga Devotion tomorrow from 10 – 11:30 so I think I’ll go to that, instead of the Methodist Church. It’s been over twenty years since I went to Self Realization Fellowship in Pacific Palisades where we sat for long periods of meditation, so we’ll see how I do. I may need a more “peppy” service. I sure miss the Positive Living Center – the music, laughter, love.

I’ll try to remember that “Love is All There Is” and that it takes many forms, if I get antsy tomorrow.

Tonight: Go Iowa! (College Football)