-
Texas Bound
The beauty of my new lifestyle is that I have so much more time! When Bug moved out, I found myself with hours of free time. I didn’t have to pick her up from work, take her to school, or drive all over the OC for all her various errands. I thought that was great. I missed her, but I loved my newfound freedom. Then, I moved to the Sticks and had to quit my part-time job. My freelance jobs trickled down to odd jobs here and there, and then I had even more time. I clean houses and help my parents, but I can make my schedule. It’s almost like being retired. Retired without an income. You know how it goes: you either have time or money but never both simultaneously.
This wealth of time has become especially relevant with my latest predicament with my parents’ HOA and my dog, Cody. A little backstory for anyone who isn’t tuned into my Instagram feed: My parents and I have been balls of anxiety about what to do with Cody since I moved in with them in January. My Dad had written a letter to the board in November asking if I could be allowed to live in their (55+) retirement community as a caregiver for my mother. We’d heard lots of individual opinions about Cody being accepted as an emotional support animal from various board members but hadn’t gotten an official ruling.
Since I had no money to pay my rent, I was forced to couch surf or move in with my parents. I put half of my stuff in a friend’s storage unit and stayed as a guest with my parents until we heard whether I’d be allowed to move in. It was weeks of not knowing. Finally, we heard there was a ruling, but my thirty days as a guest were running out. I had one more day and no letter of a decision. It was nerve-wracking.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands and walked across the street to the secretary of the board’s house to ask her myself. At this point, I felt that any news would be better than no news. I couldn’t handle the suspense anymore.
The secretary was very nice and told me that the good news was that I was approved to stay as a caregiver. The bad news was that caregivers didn’t have the same rights as residents, and the emotional support animal rule did not apply. I was defeated. I had a lot of evil thoughts about what to do about this seemingly ridiculous rule, but my parents have been in violation of their HOA rules for having too many pets since the day they moved in. I didn’t feel like I was in a position to fight a fight that would put my parents at risk. So sad, too bad.
I took all my pent-up emotion and decided to channel it into an epic road trip with just Cody and me to Texas to visit my brother and take him up on his offer to rehome Cody until I could reclaim him. I do love a good road trip, and there is no better way to work through your dark feelings than lots of alone time on the road. I booked a super cute hotel in Tuscon and set out immediately.
I am a sucker for cute hotels. I would be a happy camper if I could travel full-time, take pictures, and have adventures. Cody and I had the best time. He is an ideal travel companion. He keeps me safe. He doesn’t say much, and he’s perfectly content to ride quietly in the back for hours and hours. He loves rest areas and taking walks to stretch his legs. He loves to go wherever I go and follows me quickly without a leash. I adore him.
The long drive with Cody only cemented how much I love him and what a great dog he is. It didn’t make it easier to accept that I would be leaving him soon. It breaks my heart to think about him missing me. We are each other’s emotional support companions. He’s seen me through so many dark times. And because I’ve spent so much one-on-one time with him, he distresses easily when he’s not near me. This is a tricky thing. I know he will be loved and well cared for by my brother and his wife. My brother’s wife has already bought him special high-protein dog food and a big fluffy bed and promised to take him to the vet (which I can’t afford right now). But Cody will have to learn how to be a dog again. He’s going to be part of a pack of dogs now. He still gets to be an inside dog and get lots of attention, but my brother and his wife are not me. I’ve spoiled him rotten.
I’m staying for the week to help with the transition process. This is mainly for me so that I can be okay. I need to know that he’s going to be OK. I will worry myself sick thinking up scenarios where he’s neglected or left alone, left in the weather, or picked on by the other dogs.
So far, he’s doing great. He loves the other dogs, and I see a playful side of him that is usually reserved for me and his rope toy. I think he will bond with his new family (which includes Momo!). He’ll mope, I’m sure, and miss all the treats I give him that I’m not supposed to, but he will be cared for. He’s going to the vet to get his tumors looked at, which I’ve been worrying about but haven’t been able to afford to get looked at yet.
It’s going to be okay. I plan to visit him in April, and I’m daydreaming about taking him on an even longer road trip this summer if I can pull it off.
Just you and me, Codes. Just you and me.
-
There’s a free calendar at the end of this post.
I don’t even know where to start with this post. Everyone asks me how I’m doing, and I make up some bullshit story about “healing in the desert” because it sounds good. But I’m here because I have nowhere else to go. I couldn’t cut it in the OC anymore, and since Bug moved out, it just didn’t make sense for me to deplete my retirement by paying rent on an apartment I couldn’t afford. So I packed up and moved home to my parents. It was a huge relief to give up finally. I’d been fighting it for what seemed like forever. I was hustling every side job I could find, borrowing from Peter to pay Paul, borrowing from friends, knowing I’d never be able to pay them back…I was getting rejection letters every day from jobs I’d applied to months before. It was hopeless.
My mental health has taken a blow, but there is a little bit of truth to my bullshit story about healing in the desert. I feel the sun out here. It gives me hope. I am solar-powered, and every time I feel the sun on my face, I breathe in and out more easily.
When I lived in Costa Mesa, it was foggy every day. I was close to the ocean but not close enough to walk. The ocean came to me in a big bank of fog. My apartment was dark. I know it looks bright in photos, but it isn’t. I tried to make it pretty and appreciate the ducks and the trees in the neighborhood… but when it was too cold to sit outside, I felt like I was living in a cave. The low popcorn ceiling, the few windows on only one side, and the cloudy days blended into a dark mood that wouldn’t lift.
Coming here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel so lucky that my parents live in the prettiest part of an otherwise depressed town. They are on the outskirts of Hemet in the low hills. The horizon is vast. As far as I can see, I see rocks and hills and shrubbery, and the skies go on forever. There isn’t any fog. Just dry, cold air. It’s the high desert; right now, it’s very dry and chilly. But I grew up here, so it’s sentimental. I am a desert child.
Every morning, I wake up super early and watch the sunrise. I’d go for walks, but the coyotes are kind of creepy out here, so Cody and I stay close to home until it gets light. I was sitting in the vines of dead raspberry bushes in a raised garden, but my dad built me a little platform. I love being around my dad because he’s super handy and has every tool you can imagine. I can’t wait until summer when we have a thriving garden.
But right after I got here, my parents left for Texas to take care of my brother, who had hip surgery. He had some complications and is in some pain, so they are staying with him until he heals a bit and gets settled. I miss my parents. I feel like I’ve been out here alone for months, even though it’s only been a few weeks.
The power went out for three days to make things even more challenging. I’m not mad about it, though, because SCE is taking all precautions so that the high winds don’t knock down wires and start fires. Where my parents live in a high-risk fire area. When I see the devastation in Los Angeles as I scroll through Instagram, I am thankful for all these precautions. I miss my dad, though. Trying to find my way around in the dark was scary, as was figuring out how to turn the generator on and hook up the refrigerator so the food inside didn’t go bad. Afterward, I felt like such a survivor. But the dark did get old quickly. There isn’t much worth doing when the sun sets at 5:30, so I’d go to bed and sleep. Then I’d be up super early and start all over again.
I cooked my food on the gas stove (thank the Lord my parents have gas!), read books, and one day drove to the library to do some work.
Then, magically, on day three, the power turned back on! It was so amazing and wonderful. I think I felt like how people think crawdads are the most delicious food they’ve ever tasted when they’ve been starving for weeks. Crawdads are not delicious. Well, not to me, anyway. LED lights in the kitchen aren’t impressive either until you’ve bumped around in the dark for three days. Then they are the best invention ever!
The winds are still whipping around, so I brace myself for another outage. Until then, I’m typing out a blog post and dropping a calendar for you to proof!
This is just for you, Cathy: a free calendar. Please proofread it and let me know if there are any errors.
***UPDATE TO ADD NEW CORRECTED CALENDAR***
I am planning on taking this blog down this year. I’m in the process of copying and pasting it into a digital document for Bug and her cousins so that it will be up for a while. I’ve got twenty-plus years of content to copy and paste. Maybe I’ll want to keep going by the end of it, but I’m ready for a change. Secret Agent Josephine has lived her days. Thank you for reading all these years. I’ll keep you posted on Instagram.
xo
