Sarah Wynde's Blog, page 15

Sophie Sunshine

Over the course of the past three weeks, I’ve probably started a half dozen different blog posts, all of which got thrown away unfinished. This was not because I didn’t have anything to write about or even because I was so terribly busy. Nope, it was because I truly, truly hate the new WordPress editor. It makes me not want to write. It’s not designed for writing, it’s designed for designing, which seems to me to be completely contrary to the point of a blog. Sure, if I wanted a web page editor, it would be lovely to be thinking in blocks, but I just want nice, plain words. The new interface is all… blocky. Clunky. Awkward. Annoying!

Today, however, Sophie was so darn adorable that I determined I really HAD to blog about my dog’s incredible cuteness. Much to my delight, the top widget in my my dashboard had a line that caught my eye: WordPress Extending Classic Editor Support Until 2022. Yes, please! It turns out that there’s a plug-in I could have been using that rolls back the clunky and returns me to my nice retro simple editor. Yay! Of course, 2022 is literally only two and a half months away, so I’m hoping that “until 2022” really means “through 2022” (and hopefully beyond), but I will take what I can get.

Back to my dog’s incredible cuteness: Suzanne is on vacation with her dogs, so it’s just been Sophie, me, the cats and the chickens here at the Mighty Small Farm for the last several days. Sophie has missed her playmate, of course, but Bear’s absence has meant more walks, more games, more snuggles, and lots more chances to play with Olivia Murderpaws.

Olivia has a “catio,” a fenced outdoor enclosure that she enters via a window from the house. It’s got a cat hammock, a cat climbing post, a bench and a bunch of potted plants. It’s not a big space, just nicely cozy for a cat, but the various furnishings are placed at different heights, so the different levels make it a good place for stalking games. Olivia stalking Sophie, of course. I don’t entirely understand why Sophie loves this, but she clearly does. It’s very different from the way she plays with Bear, which involves lots of growling and tumbling and chewing on one another, but it’s super cute.

Olivia and Sophie in the catio.

But Olivia is a grown-up cat now, which means her tolerance for play is limited. She plays with Sophie for a bit, then leaps back into the house. Or worse, goes to sleep on her hammock, her tail dangling and twitching occasionally, so that Sophie can see her and know that the potential for playtime is there, just not being realized. Poor Sophie.

But yesterday I’d played ball with her, taken her on a nice walk, and gotten settled back in the house when she rushed in. With every motion, she conveyed that she needed my urgent attention: her eyes fixed on me, her tail waving, her whole body taut with excitement. A thing! A thing needed to happen! I asked her a couple of questions, then looked back at my computer, and she carefully took my sleeve in her teeth and tugged. It was so clear that she was saying, “You must come!”

So I got off my bed and followed her outside and she led me to the catio. Olivia was there, on the ground, poised for the hunt. I let Sophie inside and the two of them played for a while. Success! Also just so cute. And smart! I much prefer her solving the problem of “How do I get into the catio?” by coming to find me rather than trying to chew her way through the fencing.

Sophie’s also bringing me her ball now to tell me that it’s time to play ball, although our games never last for very long because she’s so extremely reluctant to let go of it. She’ll fetch it quite happily and she’ll bring it back to about two feet away from me, but that’s where she draws the line. “Give you my toy? I just can’t,” she seems to be thinking. Sometimes I try bribing her — aka offering her a trade in the form of a treat — and sometimes that works. I usually walk away eventually, but our games last a little longer every time.

The other thing she’s getting better at — ha — is jumping on my bed. Somehow she is committed to the idea that it’s impossible for her to do. It is absolutely not impossible for her to do. Three times now, she’s forgotten that she can’t get on the bed and simply jumped right up. I’m not sure why she did it the first time. I was moving around the tiny house and was so surprised when I saw her on the bed that I had to ask myself whether I’d forgotten I’d lifted her up. The second time she was excited about going for a walk and jumped up next to me when I was putting my shoes on. The third time was, I think, that she was trying to reach her chipmunk toy. But she definitely still believes that she can’t get on the bed. She’ll put her paws up and let me know that she wants up but it’s only when she’s not thinking about it that she makes the jump on her own.

She has no problem jumping onto the bench in the catio. She’ll try to put her head in the window to see if Olivia is there. So cute!

She and Bear had their first vet visits last week. Covid protocols are still in place, so I waited in the car while the dogs went in alone, one at a time. Bear went first. The tech finally had to carry her in, all forty pounds of her, because she wanted no part of that scary place. When he brought her back, he told me there was much nervous peeing. I apologized and warned him that Sophie would probably be the same. Au contraire. When I got her back, I was told that she was fine, super comfortable, eating cookies and “showing off,” said with a laugh. She sits and lies down on command now and pretty much understands that if a treat appears, it’s a good bet that promptly lying down will get it into her mouth asap. Will she ever do anything other than lie down on command? Unknown, but she’s sure good at that one. Ugh, which does remind me that I meant to try to finish that expensive video dog training: I should probably get on that today.

In other news… well, I have none. I’m hanging out with the dogs, reading a lot, thinking about writing but not doing any, contemplating life, and trying to remember to practice happiness whenever possible. My big accomplishments are almost always food related, ie cooked something delicious and/or different, and occasionally video game related. Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen, but I don’t know what that would be. Inspiration to strike, maybe? But I’m grateful for these peaceful, placid days.

 

Dog Training

I started reading ebooks on April 6, 2010.

I know this because Amazon archives all the orders you’ve ever placed with them. (In fact, the first thing I ever bought from Amazon, back in 1999, was a book called Emotionally Intelligent Parenting : How to Raise a Self-Disciplined, Responsible, Socially Skilled Child. The second thing, Smart Love : The Compassionate Alternative to Discipline That Will Make You a Better Parent and Your Child a Better Person. The third thing, Bringing Out the Best : A Resource Guide for Parents of Young Gifted Children. I’m trying not to find all those purchases ironic, but… well, yeah. It’s hard not to.)

Moving on, the reason I was looking up my Amazon orders was because I was trying to remember what dog training books I read when Zelda was a puppy. I know I had great intentions of training her, but our life got super complicated right around then. Rory broke his arm and had to have surgery, plus he was in the middle of the testing that revealed his learning disabilities, so there were lots of doctors’ offices, school meetings, and appointments. Then, as summer approached, my mom and sister both needed back surgery, so the three of us (Rory, Zelda, and me) flew to Florida so I could babysit my niece and nephew while helping out around the house and also remotely working full-time. It was a chaotic period. Puppy training kinda fell by the wayside.

Sometime that fall, when things settled down, and Zelda was almost a year old, I finally started reading the dog training books and realized I’d done it all wrong. You were supposed to use one word commands; I spoke to Z in complete sentences. You were supposed to be the leader of the pack, which meant going through doorways first, never playing tug, and treating walks like military marches. I didn’t, did, and wasn’t going to. (On the latter, largely because it made no sense to me: our walks were for Z’s benefit, and if she wanted to sniff every tree along the way, surely that was the point of the walk?)

I don’t remember much more from the books, but I do remember deciding it was a lost cause and I’d just continue muddling along the way I had been. Because Zelda was already a really, really good dog. She didn’t need a leash (although she wore one on walks, because she was always going to forget herself at the sight of a squirrel). She came when called, sat when told to, and had a little repertoire of cute tricks, including jumping into my arms & standing up on her back legs while turning in circles. She could differentiate between a few toys, bringing you the one you asked for; find Rory and then return to me in a game of hide-and-seek with him; and play ball for endless hours. She was friendly to other people, but not too friendly — no jumping on them, usually — and tolerant of other dogs. I used to say about her that she’d do anything I asked, if she could figure out what it was that I wanted.

Sophie isn’t there yet. And Bear is definitely not there yet. Don’t get me wrong — they’re both doing great! Sophie’s not quite five months old, Bear’s not quite four and they both mostly come when called, sit in response to two different hand signals (because Suzanne and I didn’t coordinate on the signal), take treats gently, lie down upon request as long as they’re not in a distracting place, and let us know when they need to go out.

They also both jump up on people, Sophie barks more than I want to listen to, and Bear has a tough time remembering not to use her teeth on my arm and hands. She doesn’t bark much, but she’s a very mouthy girl! Sophie also pulls like crazy on the leash and while I’m happy to give her the walk that she wants to have — it’s for her, after all — I’m not suddenly going to become a runner just because she wants to run. Even with really good shoes and a low-sugar/low-nightshades diet, my joints can’t handle high impact activities.

Ergo, dog training. I started by looking at local dog trainers, but the raging pandemic ruled out in-person training for me. We’ve had 84 new cases, 3 new deaths in Humboldt County this week, and I don’t even want to get started on how frustrating it is that Humboldt has had more cases since July than we had in the entire first damn year! Literally, we didn’t reach 3000 cases here until March of 2021 and we’ve had 3,323 since July 1. The numbers are just crazy. But moving on (again!) one of the local trainers who’d moved online cited her certification from a dog training academy, and so I decided to jump to the experts, also online. Their introductory class was expensive, but I took the plunge, paid the fee, and jumped in.

Sadly, I grew to regret that decision. The course is a mix of videos and slideshows, with quizzes at the end of every chapter, and while I don’t hate the training, the more of it I did, the more it felt… wrong. It’s clicker training, where you basically reward your dog copiously for behaving in ways that you like. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it feels incredibly artificial to me. It’s very structured. You’re supposed to establish your goals for your training session, work on breaking tasks into small pieces, click & reward, wash, rinse, repeat. For a different person (or maybe a different personality type), it might be great, but I found myself increasingly reluctant to do the exercises and not advancing in the class nearly as fast as I should.

Enter the world of books, of course. In the past week, I’ve discovered Love Is All You Need: The Revolutionary Bond-Based Approach to Educating Your Dog; Teaming With Your Therapy Dog (New Directions in the Human-Animal Bond), and the extraordinarily delightful The Invisible Link to Your Dog: A New Way of Achieving Harmony Between Dogs and Humans. I’m waiting on two of the above to be delivered in paperback, because I wanted to be able to share them with Suzanne, but all three are focused on building a relationship with your dog, not on getting your dog to obey you. Meanwhile, I’m following the advice from The Invisible Link which means mostly I’m focusing on loving my girl and building the bond between us, as well as thinking positively and not worrying.

Yesterday we took the dogs to the beach and for the first time, it was really crowded. Lots of people, lots of other dogs. Sophie was not a fun companion for the first twenty minutes or so. Pulling at her leash so hard that I was worried she was going to hurt herself, barking like mad at every dog she saw, hackles up… I was hating it. She probably was too, to be honest.

But as soon as we got far enough away from the parking lot that I was sure she’d really have to work at getting out in traffic, I took her off the leash and let her go. She still barked at other dogs, but after a little while, she’d mellowed out enough to mostly stop. She ran like crazy, played with Bear, chased after Riley, got incredibly sandy, and had fun. And when she got so far away from me that I could barely see her, I waited patiently where I was, believing that she would come back to me when she realized she didn’t know where I was. She did. By the time we left the beach, she was mostly walking on the leash like a very good girl — helped, of course, by the fact that she was tired. (That said, I’ve also bought a no-pull harness for her, and a We leash, both of which ought to help her figure it out, too.)

Back to the ebooks — I don’t regret the fact that my dog training books were not electronic, I guess. Fifteen years ago, the world of dog training was a different place, and the books I’m discovering today are very different from the ones I read back then. And it is fun to be immersing myself in a really different kind of learning.

The Puppies’ First Camping Trip

On my first night of sharing a tent with Sophie, I had a moment when I thought, “Is this night EVER going to end?” and picked up my cell phone to check the time.

It was 10:11 PM. I had many, many more hours to go.

Apart from that night, the puppies’ first camping trip was pretty much perfection. Well, there was a little rain (less fun in a tent with a dog that wants out every couple hours than in Serenity) and a little more barking than desirable… but mostly it was great weather, fantastic beaches, happily energetic puppies, and excellent company.

We left on Labor Day and drove up to Humbug Mountain State Park in Oregon. We made plenty of stops along the way — at Trees of Mystery, the beach in Crescent City, Fred Meyer in Brookings — and managed to turn a three hour drive into a full day affair, but all of it was fun.

The beach at Humbug Mountain State Park in Oregon. Most of the time, we were totally alone, so the puppies got to be as rambunctious as imaginable, but also practice recalls and responding to their names.

On Tuesday, we mostly went from one beach to the next, heading up the Oregon Coast. The puppies had such a good time, rampaging with one another, getting wet and sandy and exhausted, and practicing all of their developing skills. Empty beaches are wonderful places to work on responding when called. Even Riley got into the action, and not just for the treats. He had a couple moments of really playing with the puppies, running circles around them. It was so good to see three happy dogs having fun together.

Our northernmost point was our destination: Claussen Oysters, a restaurant where we’ve eaten before. I wasn’t particularly excited about going back there, because the only things on the menu that looked gluten-safe were the oysters on the half-shell, which are delicious, but not really sufficient to be a full meal. I warned Suzanne that we were going to have to find me more food somewhere. But the restaurant has plenty of outdoor seating and it felt like a great place to take the dogs for their first restaurant meal.

As it happens, it’s now a great place to take a person with Celiacs, too. Suzanne went inside to order while I stayed outside with the dogs and mere moments later, she came bursting back out the door, saying, “Great news! The chef’s girlfriend has Celiacs! Well, not great news for her, but great news for you!” They use separate frying stations for products with gluten and those without, and so probably 3/4s of the menu was actually safe for me to eat. I ate oyster tacos which came with fried tortilla strips and they were beyond delicious.

Literally, because Suzanne and I made a scale for our food responses during this trip and the highest point on the scale is, in her terms, “OMG,” and in my terms, a hum of happiness that precludes analysis of ingredients. The scale, as best I can remember, went in order: hum of happiness/OMG; delicious; tasty/yummy; good; okay; eh; unappealing; gross; revolting; disgusting. On Wednesday, my breakfast — a backpacking meal of eggs and potatoes to which one adds hot water — fell somewhere between gross and revolting. My oyster tacos, however, were definitely the hum of happiness. Beyond delicious!

The weather went from foggy and cold in the mornings, to sunny and clear blue skies, then back to foggy again (with rain one night), but always stayed in comfortable ranges, never uncomfortably warm or uncomfortably cold. I was sleeping in a tent, so that mattered even more than it used to. I did figure out that I’m going to need to do a better job with my layering if I’m really going to be a tent camper, but even so, I mostly stayed comfortable.

On Wednesday, we went inland and took the dogs swimming at a swimming hole. Bear, the Lab mix, was undecided about swimming, but Sophie actually really took to it. Her ears are currently sometimes up, but sometimes one up, one down, and the sight of her tiny head held above the water, one ear up, one ear down, as she paddled was ridiculously cute. No pictures, though, because I didn’t have my phone on me in the water, but I want to remember the image!

Resting puppies. Bear was out, but Sophie was still watchful, still making sure no strange dogs came near the campsite, no birds dared to trespass, and neither of her people did something interesting without her.

We came back to Arcata on Thursday, and even though camping was great, it was lovely to be home again, sleeping in a real bed, taking hot showers at will, even cooking in my own tiny kitchen. (I don’t think I mentioned this on my blog before, but while I was gone, Suzanne began a regimen of weekly food prep with limited foods. Lots of greens and sweet potatoes! It isn’t something I want to do, and while I know I’m welcome in her kitchen, it’s not really big enough for two people to be cooking at the same time, so I’ve been working on making Serendipity’s kitchen more functional. A griddle, a convection oven/air fryer, and a new fridge later, it’s getting there.)

Apart from camping and settling in, I’m not doing much right now — a thing about which I’ve felt occasional Puritan guilt. Is my sense of self-worth derived from my work ethic? A little bit. But I keep telling myself that my current situation is something like a maternity leave: I’ve got two adorable babies to hang out with and it is absolutely a once-in-a-lifetime experience/opportunity. Sure, I meant to get back to writing and taking the self-publishing business seriously when I got settled, but… well. C’est la vie. Meanwhile, puppies! Cuteness! Training and playing and walks, as well as lots and lots of sweeping dirt out of Serendipity — I can’t believe how much they track in. Anyway, life’s good and I’m appreciating it. I’ll get back to writing regularly eventually!

The only thing better than a puppy…

Last week, Mara, our next door neighbor, wound up with a guest on her hands: a puppy whose foster home hadn’t quite worked out. Mara runs a dog rescue, Redwood Pals, so this is not as unusual for her as it might be for most of us. She quickly found a potential adopter and arranged a meet-and-greet for the next day, but first she asked if Sophie might like a puppy play date.

Sophie is extremely adorable and also extremely high-energy, so the answer was absolutely, yes. I’m in favor of everything that gives her a chance to tire herself out. The puppy, then named Tulip and now called Bear, came over and they played together happily. Much rough-and-tumble, much rampaging through the garden, much chewing on one another’s ears and legs. Much fun!

They’re very different dogs: Sophie is the elder, by about a month, but already smaller. Random people on the street have identified her immediately as a border collie, but she’s probably a mix with some Australian shepherd in her, too. Bear’s mom is known to be a German shepherd and she’s got that texture in her coat, but she’s got Labrador retriever feet, ears, and instincts. (Water, yes! Balls, hers!) Both of them, though, are primarily black with white on their feet and the tips of their tails. Sophie’s also got a white collar and some white markings on her face, and Bear has a white chin and some white on her chest. Each alone is cute and together they cross into cuteness overload.

Anyway, the meeting the next day was in the evening, so I texted Mara in the morning and invited Tulip over for another play date. Mara was working, so Tulip came over and stayed for much of the day — including Suzanne’s lunch break and also her late afternoon arrival from work, which is highly relevant. Then Mara came and picked her up to take her to the potential adopter, so we waved good-bye.

The adoption meeting went well, the adopter was enthusiastic and so Bear was scheduled to go to her forever-home the next night, Friday. That gave us another play-date day first, so Bear again came over and spent the day in the backyard with Sophie and me. And Suzanne when she came home for lunch and in the afternoon.

When Mara arrived to pick Bear up, however, she hadn’t heard from the adopter. She seemed puzzled, but also resigned to the hassles of coordinating schedules with adopters. She took Bear home and I said something to Suzanne about how much we’d miss her. She and Sophie just had such good energy together.

I think I also said something to Suzanne about how Bear’s energy was the perfect fit for her — a little goofy, enthusiastic, but also really mellow. Sophie is sweet, but she has drive and persistence and Bear has tolerance and playfulness. Which is not to say that they’re not both playful, but their personalities are different. Some of that might be because Bear is younger, of course, but Sophie feels like the kind of dog that needs an obstacle course and Bear feels like the kind of dog who will chase a ball for as long as you’re willing to throw it.

Saturday morning rolls around and the adopter is still a no-show, so Bear came over for another play date. At 8:39 that morning, I texted Suzanne, “Tulip would be saying, ‘Oh, God, you again?’ if she had words.”

This is her “please save me” face. And this is “Am I safe? Where did it go?”

To which Suzanne responded, “She’s back?” And eventually, “Is that woman going to take Tulip?”

I responded, “She was a no-show. Mara was going to try to get in touch with her.”

Suzanne answered, “I texted Mara. I think I have a new dog.” This warranted many exclamation points on my part, but didn’t get them, probably because I was busy playing with dogs. But by that night, Tulip was Bear, with a collar and a tag and a crate in the kitchen.

And now you know why I haven’t posted for a while. If caring for one puppy is a lot like an easier version of having a newborn, complete with middle of the night wake-ups, caring for two is a little like running a preschool. We’re working on getting on a schedule & establishing some rules — no rough play in the tiny house! Nap time is quiet time. No chasing cats, leave Riley alone when he says no, don’t dig in the potato bed.

This post brought to you courtesy of two sleeping puppies.

But I couldn’t possibly think of a nicer way to spend my August. The only thing better than one puppy is two puppies!

Hello, Sophie Sunshine

I was nervous as the plane descended into California. Not because of the wildfires or the fog or the tiny airport, but because of the puppy. After a month of life at the Mighty Small Farm, would she have decided that Suzanne was her person? Or that she belonged with the pack in the big house, cuddling next to Riley and playing chase with Olivia Murderpaws? Would she like me?

And… would I like her? It’s hard not to like a puppy, of course — you’d have to have a heart made of ice or maybe no heart at all. But I did sort of wonder whether maybe Zelda had taken my heart with her when she left.

Fortunately, if she did, she brought it back with her when she returned. Because yes, after telling me to look for her, and letting me know she was on her way (via a half-awake dream in February), I have faith that the universe has let her come back to me. And yes, I know this sounds unlikely and ridiculous. To a mainstream Protestant, reincarnation is enough of a stretch without animals being reincarnated. But I have evidence! (Sort of?)

(Right here there should be a really cute photo. But I am struggling with my computer & can’t make it work. Sigh. So look at the sidebar for the pictures I’ve posted on Instagram from my phone, and if you’re getting this via email, you’re just going to trust me — she’s cute. Very cute!)

Sophie met me for the first time in the car at the airport, and greeted me with the hero’s welcome, full body tail wag and mad kisses, then fell asleep on the way home, just the way Zelda always did. She took Zelda’s ratty old squirrel with every evidence of delight and possessiveness, and played with it multiple times without ripping into it. After Suzanne confidently said, “She doesn’t understand fetch yet,” she returned the ball to me about ten times in a row, just like Z. (She then immediately forgot that skill and has not repeated it since. Not a single time!) Later she went to sleep while lying in the patch of dirt that Zelda preferred, which is a spot where none of the other animals choose to sleep, but where Z napped regularly. She’s also expressed a preference for drinking water in motion, via a fountain in the back yard, just the way Zelda used to (although Z used to knock on the water spout and ask for the water to be turned on, which is not a skill Sophie has yet demonstrated.) And when she took offense at a dog walking by the yard, Suzanne commented that she is very random in her objections — most dogs are friends, but a few are not. The dog she objected to was solid black and Zelda had a lifelong, seemingly irrational, dislike of black Labs.

Is this compelling evidence? Maybe? I suppose it depends on what you want to believe.

But soon after we got back from the airport, and before five out of the six above things happened, I carried two stones that I’d picked up on my adventures out to the pile of rocks that mark the place where we buried Zelda’s ashes. I sat down on the piece of driftwood next to the pile, my stones in hand, and started talking to Z. I wanted to tell her what the stones were and why they were special, but I was feeling… well, bereaved. Meeting my new puppy felt far more bittersweet than I’d anticipated, because I couldn’t help remembering my old puppy and missing her immensely.

Out of nowhere, Sophie burst through the flowers, hurled herself at me — and bit my nose! I yelped and she immediately switched to the hero’s welcome, tail wagging furiously, lots of kisses, and I had to laugh. I still put my rocks on Zelda’s marker, I still told Z that I loved her and missed her and always would… but I was already half-convinced that her spirit was back, minus the memories of her previous life, but with all the sweetness and strong opinions. Interestingly enough, I don’t think I’ve gotten the hero’s welcome a single time since then. But I guess I haven’t left her alone much.

One area in which Sophie is notably different than Z is that she’s interested in eating all the things. Lettuce, sure. Peach, why not? Random plant life, leaves, bark, cat poop, absolutely, it all tastes delicious! This, of course, is in complete contrast to Zelda who had to be coaxed to eat anything, even steak or rotisserie chicken, in the last years of her life. But maybe if you get reincarnated into a body with healthy teeth and no evil tick-borne chronic illnesses, food is more exciting.

It’s also possible that she chose to come back in a slightly bigger body in order to have a slightly bigger brain. If Z was a rocket scientist for a dog, Sophie might be a theoretical physicist. I would credit the magnificence of Suzanne’s training, except that Suzanne had specifically not started leash training yet, so I started that on Monday. It took about five minutes. Not that Sophie’s perfect while walking — she’s extremely excited and bouncy and needs to sniff all the things on both sides of the sidewalk and simultaneously go as fast as possible! — but she understands what the leash is, lets me put it on, doesn’t try to chew it or attack it, and is enthusiastic the moment I bring it out.

She also recognizes her name, mostly comes when called or signaled, sits when told to, is starting to understand down, stops at street crossings, looks at my eyes, and just in general is a spectacular fifteen-week-old puppy. Incidentally, she has not peed or pooped inside the tiny house once. That’s a little bit to my credit: I’m the one waking up every four or five hours to let her out. But last night she woke me up with a paw on my face and told me it was time, which is honestly pretty dang impressive for a baby. I suspect that there will be accidents in our future — perfection is unrealistic for both of us. But Bartleby was full-grown and still thought it was okay to pee anywhere he believed you wouldn’t see him, so Sophie’s definitely ahead of the curve. (Of course, B’s original owners were… not the best.)

One more Sophie story! For now, anyway, since my guess is I’ll be writing a lot more of them over the next months.

Yesterday we took our first real walk, 2/3 of a mile according to my step counter. Along the way, we passed a sewer grate and Sophie wanted to take a look.

Our conversation went like this:

Sophie: I must investigate this drain.
Me: No, your paws might get stuck in the grate. Come away from there, please.
Sophie: No, really, this drain is very interesting, I need a closer look.
Me: Your feet are too small, honey, you won’t like it if you step in the holes.
Sophie: You don’t understand, this drain is absolutely fascinating, it will be worth it.
Me: Well, we learn from our mistakes so let’s investigate the drain.
Sophie: Oh, yes, it is VERY interesting. You should really take a look.
Me (taking a look): OMG, HOLY — WTF?!!

There was a raccoon in the drain, looking up at us and hissing. We were literally maybe two feet above it. Totally freaked me out, despite the big metal grate between us and it. So she was correct, it WAS very interesting. She did not step in any of the holes, either. Theoretical physicist, to be sure.

Goodbye, Serenity. Hello…?

It’s been a weird month.

Not a bad month. Indeed, in a lot of ways, a really good month. I got to enjoy hanging out with the Best Brother Ever, both on our incredibly long and tedious drive to Florida and at the Airbnb he rented. I also got to spend quality time with my dad and stepmom while also being useful, which is always gratifying. Helping family is not transactional, but I like being able to give back to people who have given so much to me. Plus I saw so many Florida friends that I hadn’t seen since pre-pandemic. Lunch/dinner/fun & games in person are so much better than over text!

Still, it was a weird month. Everyone has pandemic stories, some of which felt pretty bleak. Sitting in the hospital with my dad was inevitably reminiscent of the last time I spent hours in the hospital, ten years ago with my mom. And I can’t, of course, be in Florida without thinking of my son. I have many more good memories of him than bad, but the bad ones hurt.

I also sold Serenity. It went reasonably smoothly: I never did advertise her on RVTrader, but I posted the fact of her sale to the Facebook Travato Owners and Wannabes group, and a single woman (with dog!) in Tampa reached out.

Serenity’s new dog, Bandit, who immediately recognized the proper seat for a Best Dog.

I took care of getting new batteries first, and also wound up reducing the price to cover the propane repair because it would have taken another month to get the part to fix it, as well as taking $$ off for a couple other minor problems. (The awning never worked & the electric step stopped working on the way to Florida). I was still satisfied and the buyer was satisfied, too, which is the best way for transactions like that to go.

Serenity next to her new travel buddy.

It was still oddly hard. An incredibly kind friend, Frisbee, drove to Tampa to pick me up and bring me back to central Florida. When I’d buckled my seatbelt, he said, casually, in the way one does, “So how are you doing?”

I replied, “I think maybe I need to cry.”

Being a peak thoughtful human being, he immediately apologized for not having brought tissues, so I laughed instead. We started talking and I never did cry — the moment passed — but the feeling remained.

It’s not that I feel like selling the van was the wrong choice. I am completely delighted by the thought of not driving anywhere for a very long time. Today I’ll drive an hour so to get back to Mount Dora (borrowing a friend’s car) and tomorrow I’ll do the same in reverse, and that’ll be the last time I drive for probably weeks, maybe months. I love that thought. Love, love, love it. But still… a great adventure has come to an end and a time in my life is over and that means… well, some blend of nostalgia and mourning, I guess. It’s bittersweet, in the truest sense of the word.

But yesterday, I went to the Epcot Food & Wine Festival with C and Frisbee. We had a perfect day. The weather was remarkably tolerable for August in Florida, the lines were short, the food was great, and the company was outstanding. It was a day of Disney magic, filled with moments like getting the best possible seat on the Soaring ride and still making it out in time for the fireworks.

Along the way, we were eating griddled cheese with honey and pistachios in Greece, and for some reason I remembered the video I made eleven years ago, of a family trip to the Food & Wine Festival. I showed it to C & F while we were perched at a table overlooking the water, Epcot’s giant golf ball in the background. When I made that video, I had no idea what the next ten years would bring — none of the bad, of which there was plenty, but also none of the great, wonderful, amazing, and fun. It was a potent reminder that ten years from now, today will be just a distant memory. Even without Serenity, I expect that there will be plenty of good adventures before I get there.

Serenity and Sophie

I arrived in Allentown almost a month ago. The trip was my sixth solo cross-country drive, and I’d concluded along the way that I really didn’t ever want to do it again. Cross-country, maybe, but not solo. It wasn’t an unexpected thought. I’d been realizing, pretty much since my V-day in early May (when my vaccinations reached full effectiveness), that I’d lost my enthusiasm for the road. Instead of V-day translating to, “Yay, freedom to head to new places!” it had felt like, “Yay, freedom to invite people over for dinner!”

I loved so many great things about living in Serenity and wandering the country — there were so many beautiful moments, so many sparks of joy and wonder — but I’d gotten really attached to my life in Arcata. Who was going to give the chickens treats with me gone? Who would provide a kitten-free zone for Gina, #notmycat? Who would cook interesting dinners for Suzanne? Crucially, I also didn’t want to spend my scarce dollars on campground reservations and van updates: given the choice between new batteries for Serenity (a typical necessary expenditure after five years) and an overhead fan for Serendipity or a grill, I really wanted that overhead fan.

I also wondered if maybe I was ready to give up writing. Not just give up on indie publishing, but give up on writing entirely: not only fiction, but also no more morning words, no more evening reflections, no more journals or blog posts. To investigate that question, I decided to stop writing entirely for a month, and see how I felt about it. Spoiler alert: the month isn’t quite over yet and I’m writing, so the answer is probably obvious. It was a good exercise, because I truly do have a love/hate relationship with the act of arranging words into meaning, but not doing it at all for a month was a lot like giving up caffeine. My life felt flatter.

Will giving up Serenity feel the same? I sure hope not, because I’ve been planning and wavering, and cleaning and organizing, and planning and wavering, ad infinitum, but this morning Suzanne said, “If you’re ready, let her bring that same joy to another person,” and it felt like a beam of sunshine on a cloudy day. Of course that’s the way to think about it. Of course!

So very soon I will post that Serenity is for sale on FB in the Winnebago Travato group and probably soon thereafter, I’ll put an ad on RVtrader.com. I’ve got an appointment scheduled for her at the RV dealer next week to get some things fixed (the propane and probably new batteries, maybe the awning that’s never worked), but someday after that, she’ll be bringing someone else the joy that she’s brought me. I hope, anyway! And if not, I’ll make one last cross-country run and take my time selling her in Arcata.

But I am in more of a hurry to get back to Arcata than I thought I would be, because another thing that happened during the last month was that Suzanne’s next door neighbor (who runs a dog rescue, Redwood Pals) sent me this picture.

To which I replied something like, “OMG, yes. But I won’t be home for a couple months and taking care of a puppy that long is a pretty big ask.”

It is a pretty big ask, especially when asked of someone with a full-time job, three cats, a dog, and baby chickens. But Suzanne is a pretty damn amazing friend. The puppy on the right is now named Sophie, and Suzanne is sending me regular pictures, as well as updates on her assimilation into the pack. (Olivia Murderpaws says “Yes, I will play with this creature, thank you,” Riley D says, “Why have you done this to me?”, Gina #notmycat says, “No!” and Momotaro has no opinion as long as his nap time is not interfered with.) Sophie’s already a lot bigger, and I definitely want to get home before she decides that Suzanne is her one and only person.

First things first, though — next on the agenda is a drive to Florida. The BBE and I leave PA on Friday & will get there on Saturday. I’m so looking forward to seeing the family and friends that I haven’t seen since pre-pandemic times. And so grateful for the vaccinations that make it safe.

(In other random news, last week I tripped over a combination of a step I didn’t notice and a dog gate I couldn’t then avoid and managed to mildly sprain my ankle and badly sprain my wrist. This disjointed post has taken me literal hours to write (and some ibuprofen) because typing one-handed is hard and I keep starting to use my right hand and then regretting it. So annoying!)

South Bend, Indiana

I woke up this morning to the sound of a crying baby. Actually, let me be more specific: I listened to a crying baby before falling asleep last night, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a crying baby at least twice, and I woke up this morning — at a time my computer thinks was 4AM, but my phone thinks was 7AM — to the sound of a crying baby. I feel sorry for the baby and for my neighbors, but I feel sorrier for me.

I feel particularly sorry because I am staying at a hotel. Thursday night, spent at lovely little boondocking spot in Nebraska, was really damn hot. 85 degrees in the van at midnight and I don’t think it got much cooler until the wind picked up around 4AM and let me worry about tornadoes. (They weren’t supposed to be happening near me, only farther north, but when did that ever stop middle-of-the-night worrying?)

Friday’s drive was equally hot. A beautiful day, plenty of sunshine, but in the 90s, and the dashboard AC at fully cranked could barely keep up. I didn’t even want to stop at rest stops to take breaks, because it was so hot in the back of the van. Even the house battery was struggling, draining really fast although the only thing running was the refrigerator. I’m assuming that the fridge was drawing a lot of power because of the heat, but the reality is that the house batteries are five years old which means it’s probably time to replace them. Sigh.

I’ve actually spent a lot of my drive thinking about selling Serenity. It’s a notion that’s been slowly growing on me. I’d have to go back and look at texts to the BBE to remember when the idea first came up, but even before I left California, it was in the back of my mind. And I was going to write more about that, but I need to get on the road again today, not spend my day staring at my computer screen thinking, so back to my story for now. More on possible Serenity sale & its rationale later.

Eventually, after the hell that was Chicago-area traffic, I stopped for gas. I answered a text from the BBE honestly (the words “so so tired” were included), and he said, “Get a hotel room.” It was a lightning bolt moment. Yes!! In all my years of solo van traveling, I have never stopped for a hotel. But I was tired and hot, and hadn’t eaten a real meal or had a real shower in days. A hotel sounded fantastic. I googled for motels and made a quick reservation at what looked like the closest one, a Comfort Suites in South Bend, Indiana. It was another half an hour away along the toll interstate and somewhat to my annoyance, I passed several other motels before getting here. When I got to my room, that was forgotten, though, because I’ve never stayed in a hotel with a nicer bathtub. I felt grateful to the universe while I had my first bath in eons — since pre-pandemic, in fact!

I’m not quite sure what the universe might be trying to tell me, though. The bath was lovely and the bed was comfortable, but the crying baby made me wish I was in the van so I could pack up and drive away. Not that I would have been likely to do that in the middle of the night, because where would I have gone? But this morning while I was trying to figure out how to use the in-room coffee maker, I discovered that no one had cleaned it after its last use and the coffee filter in it had grown mold. Needless to say, that made me wish for the van even more. But I haven’t been making coffee all the way cross-country because the propane’s not working so… yeah. Maybe the universe is just reminding me that travel is always filled with stupid small challenges?

But it’s past 8 — if only 5:11AM according to my computer — so time for me to get on the road. I am 7 hours away from my aunt & uncle, so have invited myself to dinner. Now to get there!

Heading east

If only it were possible to write a blog post while actually driving the van. I’d have all kinds of stories to tell; about the coyote I spotted in the Nevada mountains, about interesting rock formations in Utah, about regrets and memories and serendipitous songs, about plans for the future… hours and hours worth of thinking and observing, some of it interesting, most of it not.

But unfortunately, in the moments when I can actually sit down at the computer, I’m thoroughly uninspired and would rather be doing other things, like sleeping or researching my next stop or appreciating my current stop.

But the quick story goes like this: last week was all trying not to stress about whether I’d be ready in time, worrying about what might go wrong, ruminating about imagined future conversations, and mostly reading compulsively to avoid doing all of the above. On Monday, however, I finally headed off. I’d already done my research so I knew roughly where I was going to stop for the night, at the Humboldt water management area in Nevada.

When I got there, though, I zoomed right on by. I was making great time. It should have been obvious before I started that traveling without a dog would mean fewer stops and shorter stops, but that actually hadn’t occurred to me. Hey, traveling without a dog means fewer stops and shorter stops, surprise! Instead I stopped about an hour later at a WMA in Winnemuca. It was a nice place but surprisingly crowded for a Monday afternoon in early June, and I would up without a real site, mostly just parked on the edge of the road.

Because of that I got on the road very early on Tuesday morning, and again, pretty much zoomed along. My plan was to stop in Utah, and I’d picked a couple options, depending on timing and how my day was going. I passed the first one around noon, when it felt much too early to stop, and the second around 2, when it was way too hot to stop. Instead I wound up at the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area in Wyoming.

A view of my campsite from the walk down to the river.

It was a gorgeous place and Wednesday started out as a beautiful day. I took a nice walk down to the river, then seriously considered hanging out at the campsite until noon (check-out time). But the temperatures were rising and I hadn’t found a site with any shade, so I decided to get on my way.

My original plan had me getting to Saratoga, Wyoming on Wednesday evening, then spending Thursday as a slow driving/small adventure day, specifically visiting the hot springs in Saratoga, then going to Rocky Mountain National Park. The great time I’d made meant that I could make that the Wednesday plan, more or less, then spend Thursday maybe exploring Denver?

There was only one issue with that revised plan: the weather. Going to a hot spring when the temperatures were already in the 80s didn’t seem that appealing. Plus, the wind was picking up as I drove. The day was bright and sunny but I could feel the van getting pushed around and see the dust in the air. I stopped at a rest stop to see what was going on, and there were wind advisories — up to 40MPH — throughout Wyoming. Time to go to Colorado? Um, nope. Temperatures were going to be in the high 90s in Denver on Thursday! I ate my lunch, read a book, texted the BBE, thought for a while, and then texted him again and told him to cancel his plane ticket. I couldn’t see hanging out in hot windy places for two days waiting for him to arrive when I could just keep driving.

My campsite at the Oliver State Recreation Area in Nebraska. I took the picture from next to the water, which is right behind my site. It would be a great place to get out the kayak, if I still had it. Also good for bird watching!

And then I kept driving. I wasn’t crazily ambitious — Google maps suggests that it was about a 350 mile day — but I made it across the Wyoming border and stopped at a lovely little campground in Nebraska. It’s a donation site (when you register, a sign suggests $5 – 10) and there aren’t any real amenities, as far as I can tell, but when I got here yesterday, lots of people were playing in the water. It’s very green and pretty, so I found myself a quiet water view site and settled down.

“Quiet” was not accurate, however. The reviews warned about the train noises and they weren’t kidding. The campground is right next to the train tracks and it is impressively loud when a train comes through. The sort of loud where it feels like you can actually feel the vibrations in the air as a physical sensation, not just a sound. When I settled in last night, I thought that if the weather was nice, I might stay a second day, but after listening to the trains all night, I know that would be pointless: there’s no point in taking a rest day at a place where you can’t rest. But I’ve got roughly 1500 miles to go by Monday, which is entirely feasible, if not much fun.

Today’s goal: to get all the way through Nebraska and make it into Iowa. And somewhere along the way to stop and get a salad. I’ve been eating my road trip food exclusively — beef jerky, dried mango, hard-boiled eggs, cheese and crackers, yogurt, granola and fruit — and I’m feeling really ready for some vegetables. I couldn’t quite bring myself to have a gas station salad yesterday, but maybe today I’m feeling that desperate. Or maybe today I’ll find someplace fun to eat. I guess I’ll find out when I stop writing and start driving.

Suddenly this summer…

Until yesterday, my plans for the summer of 2021 included lots of time sitting in the Mighty Small Farm’s garden, listening to chickens squabble and a cat complain; at least some time at local beaches being awed by the gorgeousness of nature; and a fair amount of time cooking interesting food from local farms and also thinking about cooking interesting food, which really is one of my favorite ways to spend my time these days. Oh, and I suppose at least some time spent struggling with all my writing projects (none of which are going anywhere fast.)

As of today, my plans involve a lot more driving. When I woke up this morning, I was not so sure that was a good thing, because the thought of long days of driving was… well, uninspiring. But the Best Brother Ever sent me a text, I called him in response, and four hours later, I have a plan which is feeling kinda delightful.

I’ll leave here on Monday, June 7th. (Hopefully with working propane in the van.) I’ll spend Monday night in Nevada, Tuesday night in Utah, and Wednesday night in Saratoga, Wyoming. On Thursday, I have a reservation to drive into Rocky Mountain National Park. Unfortunately, it’s late — the only slot available was 4PM – 6PM and there’s no camping in the park this year. But I’ll take some pictures, admire some scenery, and then find a place to stay somewhere near Denver.

Friday morning, I’ll pick up the Best Brother Ever at the Denver airport. He’ll drive with me through the weekend — most likely through Kansas, Missouri, Indiana, Ohio, a tiny sliver of West Virginia and into Pennsylvania. Maybe we’ll get to visit an aunt and uncle in western PA, but either way, we’ll try to make it to his house by Tuesday the 15th at the latest. Yeah, that’s about a week to go cross-country which is no one’s idea of a good time, but it’s going to be so much nicer with company for part of the drive.

Over the next couple of weeks, I will pick blueberries and appreciate the garden house and also do something fun with my niece. I’m not sure what that fun looks like — I suspect I’m not going to be feeling super enthusiastic about long drives — but I’d love to drag her with me on a short trip to the Massachusetts coastline to visit friends and relatives there. We’ve both been vaccinated, and it would be so nice to hug some people. (#1 on the list, Barbara!)

Regardless of how I spend the end of June, in first week of July I’ll join the BBE and his family for a week’s vacation in Vermont. Summer in Vermont, yay! I’m picturing lemonade and Adirondack chairs and wandering around cute small towns. I bet there will also be swimming and ice cream and cooking delicious meals.

On the 10th we’ll head back to Pennsylvania and on the 15th or 16th, the BBE and I will start driving south. Ideally we’ll reach Florida with a few days to spare before my dad has back surgery — time to hang out and catch up and have good conversations. There will, of course, be plenty of time for those conversations post his surgery, too — it’s optional back surgery, nothing that requires melodrama — but the recovery period’s not going to be much fun for him. But I will be glad to be there to walk the dog and run errands and drive places as needed. And visit Floridian friends, too, of course!

I don’t know how long I’ll stay in Florida. Living in a metal box in August in Florida is not going to be super comfortable. But right now I expect that I’ll be there through August and probably into September. Of course, plans can change. This week is proof of that. So I’m not going to stress about things I can’t predict. Sufficient unto the day, right? Meanwhile, I’m so much more looking forward to the next several weeks than I was yesterday. I am going to miss the Mighty Small Farm enormously but it’s going to be so nice to hug all the people that I haven’t seen since the Covid Times began.

Gina will disapprove most thoroughly of this plan. She’s not going to be pleased to lose her second human servant. I suspect there will be much complaining. And honestly, I’m going to miss her enormously. Not so much the complaining, but very much the purring and the cute. She’s a cat with immense personality.