Bring Money

The last six months I was in the Military, the Army allowed me to wear civilian clothes and attend Methodist College in Fayetteville, North Carolina. The military was pushing College degrees, and if you (the individual soldier) were within one semester of obtaining one, Fort Bragg would release you from all duties to attend school at Methodist to obtain it. The College was all for the program; Uncle Sugar was paying all the fees and the College was growing like the troops were feeding it Miracle-grow.
While attending this fine institute of learning, I was assigned to read a story about a poor women living with three lazy sons, a slovenly husband, and a pack of dogs the men kept, which, along with the men, the woman was responsible for feeding. The woman had married the man, bore him sons, and then spent her life laboring for them. The men were demanding, ungrateful, and thoughtless. Even the dogs would howl and whine if they weren't fed on time. One cold evening, tired, old, and worn out, the old women began to trudge the mile and a half through the soft snow home from the grocer. The wind had picked up a little, and she was having trouble keeping her top coat button buttoned, a bag of groceries in each arm. Halfway home the dogs, hungry and impatient for dinner, came searching to hurry her. At home the men grumbled about a late dinner. And there in the snow, as the old women stopped to rest for a moment, she closed her eyes, and never opened them again. The dogs, sniffing the food, tore the bags open and feasted, afterward returning home. The old women spent her life, and last moments, for dogs.
I tell this story because BooBoo, my nephew's dog (Dogs 03Apr08), is soon to arrive from the city and I'm feeling a lot like the old lady in the story (my oldest son dropped a dog on me himself and then skipped off to Europe for life, seemingly).
Bring money nephew. Lots of it because I'm eight days from payday, and I got twelve dollars, four days worth of food, no gas, no grass, no ass, and I ain't looking forward to another dog I can't afford to feed.

Dogs

My nephew called me today. He said it was about time to bring his dog up here to live, that BooBoo (the dog) had shit on the floor for the third day in a row and he was done with her. I considered whether or not living with two dogs rather than one would make me less lonely. I decided not, so I made my nephew a better offer: I told him the dog could come and live with me if he came too!

On the surface it looks like a selfish offer, I know: I want company. Actually it is a very generous offer when you consider THE TURMOIL OF YOUTH, and that he has to find a new "place" in thirty days

See, I'd have company (probably be tired of his ass in three days, he's always tired of me after 72 hours), but he'd get to keep his dog, and he'd get free rent, and he'd get a stable home for him and his dog, and all without a deposit, first and last, and references. He wouldn't have to falsify income either. He would have to get a job. Remember all those hassles?

I got up today lonely. I'm tired of having nothing to do but work and no one to share my misery with. I've been home two days from Sacramento. I miss many things. Friends. Family. Wife. The weather: Sacramento is a paradise weather-wise. I think one has to live elsewhere from the valley to realize how comfortable it is. I discussed Sacramento with my mother. Her leaving Sacramento after fifty years and moving to Grants Pass was really a return to her home: She grew up on a farm outside of Myrtle Creek, Oregon. She's very happy with her move. I grew up in Sacramento. I'm lonely.

Mom will be eighty years old this July. She's joined the Grants Pass garden club, a church, a widows group. She wants to make friends and have a full life. I am invited to meet people. I decline. I have no interest. I languish in my loneliness and make little effort to resolve the problem. It is not people I miss.

It has been below freezing every night here. I still build a fire every day to take the chill out of the air. There is a lot of work involved when one lives in the mountains. Especially in a cabin that still needs the plumbing and is heated by a wood burning stove. Spring is so wonderful.Summer will be better.

I think about my next move: Should I look for property in the mountains I can pay cash for, then rent a place in Sacramento? or re-invest in the valley and return to the city? or go to China and teach for a while? I'll have to SELL first, and China is out because I have a dog. I can't give Shep up, we're partners!

My nephew's call reminds me of why I moved to the Mountains in the first place: I could no longer afford my home in the city but I absolutely needed a base , a home, stability, a sanctuary with a yard for the dog. It terrified me to think of being a renter while I watched the rest of my assets disappear ( fools and money, I knew I needed to re-invest, quickly). I remember being homeless, money in the bank didn't negate the fears, Those six weeks before I found Happy Camp road were horrid!

Happy Camp road is still all it was before: I realize it's Hell Explained that is making life not worth living...............Google will take you there if you don't understand : It's really a question of here or her. And if it's not her then China may be the answer, in which case this will be a great place to return to. Maybe I should take BooBoo for Shep?

A Note to My Oldest Son

What's up Son,
Have you no opinion on American politics? Perfectly fine really, I know nothing about Britain except everybody in London is from somewhere else, and you can meet women from everywhere in the world and never leave the city limits. Oh, and look right or die, 'cause that's the direction from which traffic approaches! Find a good bakery for coffee and a foreign girl, (since I'm a foreigner in London) and it's a hook.
Woke up to snow flakes this morning. Cold. Winter doesn't want to release the mountains from it's grip. When the sun comes out Spring warmth is in it's light though. Meanwhile I'm forced to cut firewood daily to keep warm. Exercise. Next year I'll stock 10 cord of wood, not 2. I can deal with the solitude as long as there is food and firewood in the house. The basics; food, shelter, warmth. Love, laughter, music.
Perverted perceptions of the basics are wrong; green bud and easy money were not part of the original formula. Sugar babies weren't either. I slept with several last night in the pocket of my pajamas. During the night they slipped out of my pocket and proceeded to glue me to the bed. They were still good eating after being removed with a pocketknife. Like honey. The perfect food.
Your cousin got a 60 day notice to move out of the trailer. His dad agreed, and he's got 30 days left and not a clue. It's bite the bullet and grow up for your cousin. I might bring him to southern Oregon as an indentured laborer.
I figure your cousin, Carlos, you and me and it'll be THE PONDEROSA! BonannnnnnnZaaaaaaa!