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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.
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The unraveling
I am unraveling right before your eyes. Someday this is all going to be a funny story but right now I am hobbling from day to day.
Last week I flew to West Texas for my brother’s wedding. It always feels good to be with family in hard times. This was a happy time: celebrating a wedding but for me it was more. It was me going back to my roots, spending time with the people who really really love me. EVEN WHEN I BLEACH MY HAIR BLONDE AND IT LOOKS TERRIBLE ON ME!
I know it doesn’t look so bad in photos but in real life it is awful. It’s dry, brittle, it doesn’t have any of its old waves and I have no idea how to style it. I feel like a lousy combination of Charlize Theron in Monster and Kurt Cobain. But this post isn’t all about me and my hair! (Or is it?) This was about flying to Texas to be with my family.
Texas and I are not fast friends. We should be. Texas was there for me in some dark, dark times (shout out to my good friend Heather), but in my old age, I’ve gotten more liberal (as most artists with feeeeeeeeeelings do). My brother is a gun-toting redneck conservative. You know how it goes. We politely ignore each other’s opinions of Trump to save the peace and we never talk on Facebook. As my brother always jokes: “We only have one thing in common: my mom and dad.” He’s funny. But surprisingly, when we get into intense discussions, we usually find common ground that we agree on. We are both guilty of being on opposite sides for too long and haven’t listened to the other side much.
The first thing he showed me when we got to his new wife’s house (Did I mention they live in officers’ quarters in a fort!!) was a cannon. Yep. That’s my brother. It’s not *his* canon, but he gets to work on it and maybe handle it during reenactments or something. You can probably tell I didn’t pay attention when he was talking to me. Guns schmuns, they’re all the same to me. They shoot people and kill; therefore, I hate them. But whatever! I do believe in the 2nd amendment, I just don’t like guns personally.
Then we walked the grounds. It’s huge! Like everything in Texas. My brother’s job is the groundskeeper of the Fort and he gets to mow the vast lawns with a driving lawn mower and switch sprinklers off and on. It’s his dream job.
I got to hang with my niece Suki and her little girl.
The skies were so big, and I loved being out in the evening air. The only thing I liked better than walking around outside was walking around his historical home.
It had a huge front porch with rocking chairs, and inside, everything felt like a museum. His wife’s mother owned the house and had a vast collection of art and artifacts.
I slept in the office and kinda got the heebie-jeebies looking at all these artifacts around me. Didn’t we take all this land from the Native Americans and wouldn’t they be haunting a house like this and wanting it back? When I closed my eyes, I saw all kinds of weird visions which makes me think I might be psychic or something but amazingly, I slept well. My brother’s wife says there is no bad juju in the house and I think she might be right. I didn’t feel anything bad when I was there.
The following day my dad and I walked the town. It took about five minutes.
Just kidding. It took longer than that, but it was a quick walk because the town is quite small. We even went to the park and took a few turns on a zipline.
Friday was the day of the rehearsal dinner, and I wasn’t needed for anything. Weird, I know. I thought I’d be helping with dishes or flowers or potato salad or something, but everything was already handled before I got there so I did what I always do when I’m in a new place. I yelped “local flair” and saw that there was a famous art exhibit two hours away.
Two hours is pretty far to see an art exhibit, but when I expressed interest, my dad signed up enthusiastically. That is my dad for you. If I want to do something, he is always on board, no matter how silly it is. It helps that he used to be a truck driver and driving is like walking to him but still, two hours to an art exhibit?!? And it wasn’t like it was the Louvre. What I wanted to see was pretty much a box in the middle of the desert. No shops around it or places to have lunch. It didn’t even have a gift shop. Just a box in the middle of nowhere with miles and miles of desert all around.
Yep, I’m talking about Prada, Marfa. It’s famous! It really is as silly as it looks. It’s a fake storefront with a non-working door and 2005 Prada shoes inside. It’s incredibly ironic, and I love it. At first, I was bummed when I saw the window boarded up on one side. That was going to ruin my photo! But then when I read more about the artist’s intent and how he wanted it to de-gentrify naturally, I started to get it. It will look like part of a ghost town someday, and it’s a big funny joke. Prada way out here in the middle of NOWHERE? Why? That’s exactly the fun of it. Why not! And even though it’s not an *actual* Prada store, and you can wiggle the front door in vain, and it will never open, it’s still *cool* just to be there. That’s how much clout the Prada brand has. Humans are so funny.
Even my dad got it. My dad is pretty open-minded for a boomer.
Speaking of open-mindedness, we stopped at an ice cream shop on the way back. We were hungry for lunch, but apparently, everything rolls up at three pm when you live in the middle of the desert in the middle of nowhere.
It was great. I think I found the artsiest town in all of West Texas. I’m good at finding my people.
Across the street was an LGBTQ store, and I went in, of course. Not that I needed any gay merch, but just because it’s pride month, and I wanted to show my support. You’d think my dad would have a problem with this, being the devout Christian that he is, but he is incredibly understanding, and we had the whole drive to talk about passages in the bible that refer to sodomy. Talking about the bible is one of my dad’s favorite things to do. Yes, I find it annoying from time to time when he tries to “save” people, but my dad is one of the kindest people you will ever meet, and he really does listen. I can put up with his fever over the bible because he listens to me when I tell him I don’t trust Apostle Paul’s teaching. He’s patient with me. It does make me sad that he is disappointed with my life choices, but if anyone understands my choices, it’s my dad. He’s been there through all of it.
So yeah, two hours of talking about the bible! It was great, actually. I can talk to my dad about anything.
The next day before the wedding, we took another walk around town, just my dad and I. We pretty much did the “driving tour” on foot.
This crumbling building reminded me of an Anthropologie backdrop.
Colors from another time… I love that I can always find things to photograph when I travel. It is my favorite thing to do.
I also got to spend a lot of quality time with this goober. She was magical at grabbing my Apple watch and my iPhone. She can reprogram any Apple device in under 30 seconds. It’s amazing. I have a lot of pictures of her grabbing at my phone as I’m taking pictures of her. I also have about a million selfies that she took of her chin.
Then it was time for the wedding. It was small and humble but so sweet. My brother is such a softie; he cried through the entire thing. Like he did at my wedding years ago, he’s just a big sentimental puddle inside a giant hairy man.
He adores his new wife. I’m so happy for them.
It was good to be with family. I’m glad I went. It was a quick little respite from the trainwreck that is my life back home.
But things are getting better. I have interviews lined up next week and I’m starting to get used to my shocking hair. Every day I contemplate shaving it, though… so the crazy is not over yet!
