Tina Mitchell Wilkins Blog

Ranger the Lizard Wrangler

7/17/2021

Our dog Ranger is the best dog in the world. I know.. those are fightin’ words.. but he is. He is part Standard Poodle and part Llewellen Setter. (I know... I never heard of a Llewellen Setter either until Ranger) (crazy that that word has 4 L’s) There really isn’t a particular breed name for him, like Goldendoodle or Labradoodle. When people ask what kind of dog he is I say he is a Spoodle. (spoiled Poodle) He was gifted to us by Sawndra Worrell and Bill Worrell, after Sawndra’s dogs, June and Cash, fell in love and had puppies, on July 4th, 2011.

Side note: If you think that you want a puppy, but your significant other is on the fence, whatever you do, do NOT look up poodle mixes on the internet. You will actually melt into a big blob of gooey mush from the overload of cuteness. I j u s t looked at a St. Berdoodle. No joke.. the snuggliest, largest animal on earth. Like a big character on HR Puf-n-stuff. (retro throwback) (that was a wackadoo show) ( I can’t believe it actually was labeled a kid’s show) (no wonder we are all messed up) (sorry for all of the parenthesis)

ANYway.. back to the most wonderful dog in the world, Ranger. I love this quote.. “Everyone thinks they have the best dog, and none of them are wrong.” -W.R. Purche
Ranger is family. I didn’t know that he would be family when we picked him up, but it was pretty clear that life was going to be a lot different, fluffier & lovelier from here on out. He is now 10 years old, loyal & true and still acts like a puppy. He recently had a major operation, so it slowed him down for a bit. But now, two months later, he is healed and rockin’ again.
One of his favorite things to do is to wrangle lizards. It’s like his special calling (other than taking care of us). He will find the tiniest of space, head and front paws down, nose in the drain or flowerbed or rock pile, hind end in the air, tail wagging profusely... living his best dog life. Even when he was healing, he still would do his best to save us from those evil lizards who were planning world domination. If he saw a lizard, let’s say, last week on our walk around the elementary school, he would drag me to the same exact place to look for it again.

Lizards are super cool. They are hard to see on trees, so they will wait for Ranger to spot them, hang out just long enough to torture him, wait until the right moment and then scurry on up. They know he cannot jump that high and they know that he can’t really see them, but Ranger can most definitely hear them. He looks up in the tree and barks in superhero dog speak... “You fooled me this time Evil Lizard, but next time you will not be so lucky”.

His lizard bark is different from his squirrel bark. His "HEY THERE’S A CAT IN THE BACKYARD” bark is very very loud and kind of squeal-y. His opossum bark is just flat scary. I think he is genuinely afraid of opossums, but truly... wouldn’t you be too with those red eyes looking at you in the pitch dark? It’s like a “What in all things holy ARE you?” kind of bark.

All this good stuff being said about the best dog in the world, he can be a bit of a bossy boss sometimes. Especially if there is a fence involved. He is the boss of all of the fences and everything barking behind it in the neighborhood. He will size up who is behind the fence and if it seems like it’s a dog bigger than him, he will start the fight. If it’s a small dog, he doesn’t bother. Like ‘eh... not worth the barking effort. He’s kind of a fence bully and that’s not cool. It’s also not cool to drag me into the fence as a part of his game. I remind him that I am at the other end of the leash, but he rarely listens when he’s defending his Fencedom.

Ranger’s favorite place in the world is where he was born. New Art, Texas. I love watching him run free at our friend, Bill Worrell’s home. (now the Worrell Family Compound) He covers the yard in seconds flat. He runs across the dirt road to check out the scene. He runs like wild past the gigantic shaman sculptures. It’s a gorgeous sight, watching a dog run free. His ultimate adventure in New Art is going down to the Llano River. The rocks are such that he can jump from them with ease. He loves to stand in the water too and try to catch fish. He looks like a puppy when he is at Worrell’s. I guess when we are aligned with what resonates with us, we feel our happiest. That’s ol’ Ranger. Looking like he did when we picked him up that late September in 2011. Just a little bigger version.
Our dear friend Bill Worrell recently left this earthly plane, but I know he will smile big when he sees Ranger running around his favorite place again. He used to say Raaaaaaanger.. such a good dog.
Such a good dog. indeed. The best dog in the world.

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Sometimes

7/9/2021

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Sometimes you don’t feel like taking your walk. Sometimes it’s just too hot and you just took the pup for a walk and you are sweaty and just want to take a shower and then drink all the wine and watch Ted Lasso. Sometimes your husband can see that you really need to take a walk to perhaps help you stay on track or adjust an attitude or after all the years he deeply knows that walking always makes you feel better about everything. Sometimes you begrudgingly go...

Sometimes you take a different route, because it’s going to rain and you do not not want to die today from the lighting strikes that might just happen. You almost turn around and go back home, but you go to the school instead and begin to trudge around the grounds. Trudge. What a great word. It sounds like it means. An onomatopoeia, if you will. You continue to trudge until your feet finally get sick of you dragging them and they pick up speed for you. You walk a little lighter with each step. Next thing you know you are kind of liking it. You feel better moving. Then you decided to listen to Oprah, because that’s what you do on long walks. Oprah.. my friend that makes the miles breeze by.

In this particular podcast episode, she is talking about crying uncontrollably & feeling sorry for herself. She said that Maya Angelou was consoling her on the phone and she said to her firmly... “Stop it.. stop it right now and say Thank You”. “You don’t understand”..said Oprah. ‘What am I saying Thank You for?” Maya A said, “You are saying Thank You, because Your Faith is so strong ...you will get through it and even in the eye of the storm, God has put a rainbow in the clouds.”

At that very moment, listening to the wisdom & walking, I looked up from my feet and saw a rainbow over the schoolyard. No lightening, no thunder.. a few dark clouds, light rain and a gorgeous rainbow. Then TWO rainbows. It made me shout out loud.... THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU!!! I threw my hands in up in the air, danced around in the rain a little and laughed-cried. Sometimes you scare the people in the car that pulled over to show their kids the double rainbow too, but you just keep dancing anyway.

Sometimes things align at the Divine and Perfect time.

Walk on.

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Fairy Garden Party

7/2/2021

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I had the wonderful opportunity to hang out (babysit) with my dearest friend’s granddaughter last week. I was super excited because I hadn’t seen her in about 2 years. Last time I saw her, she was a wild child that loved to climb, run, race, swing and cling to me like a spider monkey.
Two years later, she is a super kind, well behaved, lovely, elegant 5 almost 6 year old. She takes her slippers off at the front door (instead of flip flops, she was raised to call them slippers). She says thank you, please, yes ma’am and is pure delight. She was pure delight the first time I met her too...but she is a more mellow delight now.
Well.. seeing that I live in a house of boys, I was super excited to have a fun girly day ahead! I woke up early and went to Walmart to stock up on all things Fairy Garden. Pink things, sparkly things, sweet things. Glittery things, fluffy things, shiny things. Cakey things, donut-y things and a couple of rainbow tutus. I had so much fun and was kind of distracted... because when I finally checked out, I had about 150 bucks worth of Fairy Garden Party stuff in my basket. OH and a sprinkler. It wasn’t pink, but it would do for now.
I got home, unpacked all of the pink and began to set up. I got out a nice table cloth, fancy glasses, beautiful plates, fancy napkins and fresh flowers. I dug up fluffy things to sit on and fabric-y things to hang above the Fairyland I have in our front yard. Yes.. I even had cloud cutouts for our sandwiches. (you know.. to make your turkey sammies look like a fluffy cumulus summer cloud) I. Was. Ready.
My little friend arrived at 10am. We sat and talked and ate cute mini donuts rolled in rainbow sprinkles with pickle forks (because they are tiny and that’s what a fairy would use to eat donuts). We drank milk in fancy tiny fruit glasses that were passed down from Walt’s mom. I had to fill them up about 5 times each, but so what, they were elegant.
We ate blueberries with our pickle fork too. That was a challenge, but super funny. We ate strawberries dipped in sugar. It was kind of a high sugar day, but hey.. you know.. fairies.
We went outside to play Fairy Garden. It was a lovely morning. T h e n.. I had the idea to invite my next door neighbor girls to the party. They are sweet, fun and lovely too. The girls joined us for the party. It was like Pinterest meets Martha Stewart meets my friend JoAnne Box (who throws fabulous girl parties with wine. For big girls, of course) This was photo gold... for about 3 minutes. Then the sugar, the adrenaline & the excitement of new friends kicked in.
Fairies started flying all over the yard. The 9 year old was climbing the tree..the younger neighbor started chasing my little friend. They started screaming like, well, little girls. They ran into the house. My dog (who is older) started chasing them. He thinks he is a puppy, so the louder they screamed, the more fun he thought he was having. He was barking, the younger girls were screaming, the older girl was still in the tree. I had a flashback to the 2nd grade class I subbed one year when all hell broke loose and a little girl asked why I was smiling. Apparently I smile when I am stressed. Resting smile face, I think they call it. I told her, in my favorite Elf-like-movie-way, that “I like smiling, smiling’s my favorite.” She said... “Well you look kind of creepy”. Flash forward to the cute food that was on the table flying all over the place and kids running with food in their mouth. One kid is coughing.. like the food went down the wrong pipe, like I said it would...like all of our parents said it would. And it did. Cough Cough spit. The dog is still chasing the other child. The older child is now in the house. Thank the Lord.. because she wrangles her sister and I wrangle my friend.
We live next to a park. Yes. The park will save me. The park THEN the school playground. Perfect idea. Except that it’s 103 outside. We need snacks, my littlest neighbor says. So we pack the cute snacks (out of the cute bowls into the baggies) and water. Not soda, for the love of all things sugar. And toys. We need to bring many, many toys to the park, because that’s what we do when we are little girls. A boy is happy with a ball and a stick. Girls need a lot of accessories.
We all and I mean all, run to the park. We are there for approximately 1 minute. Then we run to the playground. We all arrive at the playground safely. I am, of course, the pack mule. I have sticky snacks, half waters, toys and toys. The second we get there, someone loses a toy. Not like a big toy, but the tiniest barbie doll tiny. Not like Skipper (remember Skipper?) But like the mini Barbie series that came out in the 70’s. So, we lost one and had to venture back so we could find him. All I could remember is that the mini doll has on yellow shorts. We looked and looked and moped and moped. We never found him. My guess is that I will come across him on one of my walks, take a photo and post it. (I post items that I see on my walk on my Instagram) Then I will find out that the mini boy doll actually jumped out of the bag, as to have a fun adventure with the fairies we left behind, but that is another blog post and perhaps my wackadoo brain.
We get back to the playground at 107 degrees now. We start to have fun and then someone has to pee. We pack up every last thing we just dumped out and head on back to my house. Quickly, but not running. Running would have brought on a different challenge.
We get to the house and everyone decides that after one uses the restroom, we need to have lunch. Our cute lunch that I planned for my little friend with the pretty dishes and the elegant glassware and the tiniest of pickle forks... is slowly fading. My Martha Stewart badge is now out of reach. I couldn’t even take a photo for JoAnne. She would have shuttered at the way I quickly threw a box pizza in the oven, cut up some already cut up watermelon and hid the donuts. It was madness. Now, I have to tell you... all 3 of ladies are awesome. Kind, loving, mostly mindful and sweet to each other. It’s just that when you have 3 kids together...who have been sequestered away from other kids for a year, it is beautiful and messy. And loud as shit. Loud. As. Shit.
We were quiet while we ate. For a minute. Then, of course, we need to watch a show. This was suggested and thus voted on by all 3 girls. They like Johnny Danger or Micky Danger or Ranger Danger...hell, whatever it was. I kind of loved it...because for a spilt second, it brought me back. I remember that we, who have the smallest house in the neighborhood, would often have the biggest pack of kids over when Luke was a kid. They would play wiffleball, frisbee, slip n slide, running games and an occasion or two, when I could figure out the Wii... Mario Brothers. When I couldn’t figure out the electronics, we would find a Disney show. All Disney shows were he same. Smart aleck-y, cute, kids with not a lot of supervision, getting into all kinds of hijinks. There was always one odd-ball kid, mostly clueless parents, and kids with extremely good vocabularies living in huge homes. The episodes would have slapstick fun, a kid-like troubling problem, a problem solved, canned laughter and lots of colorful everything. And commercials. A shit ton of commercials. Mostly about food and food.
Fast forward 10 years, it’s the same thing.. in my house... right now. My heart was happy. Then I found in my delighted, dream state (insert the Disney flashback fluffy cumulus cloud above my head) that no one was sitting in the living room. They had all gone outside to attach the new sprinkler.
The next several hours were filled with gd running, I mean running. It was also filled with water, playing in the neighbor’s backyard, chasing chickens & dogs. Finally, my friend and I needed to call it a day with the neighbor girls.
These girls were all so kind to each other. They had never met before, found common ground, had no judgements and created a lot of fun in one hot summer day in the suburbs of Texas. Lessons noted. My prayer that evening was to thank God for a great day, my little friend, the neighbor girls, my disheveled dream of a Fairy Garden Day... and for all of the mothers, fathers & caregivers of more than one child. You all deserve a donut. Not just a mini donut with sprinkles, but an adult sized donut dipped in whiskey. With a side of whiskey.

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Outdoor Couch

6/25/2021

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I have been wanting one of those cool rattan outdoor couches with big fluffy pillows for years now. I have looked longingly at the gorgeous sets at Home Depot, Lowes, World Market and at At Home. I sit in them, sometimes stretch out and lay on them, pretend I am having a conversation with Oprah on them and then ultimately talk myself out of buying them. You see, we have a lot of seating in our backyard. Treasures passed down from our parents & friends, mostly. I even have an old iron combo set from my brief first marriage. (it’s nice that some things last) But I have always wanted the comfort of one of those sweet sofas.

I was casually researching things on the internet and somehow, it read my mind and started interjecting outdoor furniture in my brain space. It’s like when you talk about something in the kitchen and Alexa and your iPhone hears it... and then suddenly ads start popping up everywhere you look. White rattan, tan rattan, chocolate rattan. White pillows, orange pillows, blue pillows. Remember when we would sit in front of the TV on Saturday mornings and watch Bugs Bunny being lured with a carrot? Eyes with hearts in them, half closed and floating toward the trap? Yeah. Me. Couches. Fluffy.

Here’s my reasoning. Thought I would start with that, because you already knew I bought something. Coffee. Coffee made me do it. Every morning (truly, I cannot wait to wake up and have coffee. Some people cannot wait to go to sleep at night, I cannot wait to wake up to French Roast.) During the shutdown, we started our morning with a nice cup and sitting outside. Not too exotic. Not too unusual. People do this all of the time. Well, our dog Ranger thinks it’s a national holiday every time we start the coffee, because that means we are going to SIT down outside, usually together, while he wrangles the lizards that have taken over the world. He LOVES it when we have coffee.

Since the big Texas freeze, our backyard has been in a bit of disarray. It was a tiny fairy garden of love and paradise during the days of Covid, but now needs some attention. Walt is a beautiful gardener, so he is slowly digging, replacing and creating an artistic palate of gold lantana, autumn sage and agave. I painted the concrete patio last year to kind of look like a street in Portugal. I bought a huge stencil, painted the base layer, stenciled for 600 hours (ok, maybe 6 hours) and it actually looked pretty sweet. Now it’s peeling and slowly
making me want to cover it with a dull gray and sadness. BUT.. I bought a couch, so that means we will have coffee outside and that means I will be looking at the sad porch and that means I will need to power wash, sand and start fresh again. Ranger will be happy because we will be outside and I will be happy because I will feel like I am again in Portugal with my loyal pup and the darkest of roasts, for the mornings.

So Wayfair. Wayfair is the devil. Well, not the actual devil, but it has it’s hooks in us. You look up one tiny couch on Wayfair and then all of a sudden your computer is flooded with patio sets, arbors, fountains, jacuzzis, flower planters, back yards in Tuscany and things you absolutely Need. And Want. And Need. So I scroll. I scroll until I find the sofa that will tie it all together, so we can have French Roast coffee... make our dog happy... make each other happy...live life to the fullest and create peace in the world. I found it. It’s beautiful and it will change the course of our backyard parties, thus, the World. But, it cannot be delivered until late July. And there is a hefty delivery charge. Then I happen to remember that Amazon Prime is my friend and so I blow Wayfair and all it’s glory a kiss and drop on into couch-land on Amazon.

Amazon is a different animal. You want a couch.. here are 4. All the same couch, different suppliers, different prices, but we can get it to you a minute ago. Found it. Bought it. Shipping tomorrow, The world is about to be happy.

Our couch is delivered quickly. It is also in a big box. I might have not read the fine print on Amazon that said, Assembly Required. I open the box and it has everything placed in it perfectly. The couch pieces, the cushions and the millions of screws, bolts and washers. And a tiny screwdriver thing. I am not a fan of putting together IKEA furniture, but I would take it over what was presented to me at this very moment. But the best most worst part was looking at my husband’s face when he saw the box. I now understand why the fabulous couch was on sale. For 200 bucks more, we could have had a fully assembled couch, that fit perfectly in our truck, that 2 of us could lift with ease... but back to the husband’s face... I think he took a look and thought, "There goes my
Saturday” (leaving out the expletives) But he was wrong. It was “There goes my Saturday, Sunday and Monday”. He’s a trooper. I’m a good trooper’s assistant and it was time to either begin or send the huge box back.

We dumped out the 1000 pieces out on the peeling patio and took a look at the instructions.
(note.. below is just one snippet of the instructions... I found the one part on the paper that didn’t have sweat and tears of angels all over it)

See y’all, Piece of cake! A very detailed, time consuming cake. Like a tiramisu, but not as deliciously gratifying.

So we got started. We both worked together, we worked separately. We laughed, we yelled, we fought. Ok, we didn’t yell or fight, but I thought it would be an exciting addition to the murder mystery movie that will come out of me buying a couch in a box on my husband’s one and only half day off. After a day or three, we finished, turned the couch over to its rightful side, added the cushions and stepped back to look at the masterpiece.

I said..”Well... it doesn’t really go with the other outdoor furn... I mean... I LOVE it....(as to not be sleeping on it for the next week)

Cheers! Here's to many morning coffees on the couch. Until the next sale.

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Random thoughts to keep the wheels greased...

1/4/2021

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1/1/21
Ode to a Black Eyed Pea

The child refuses to eat black eyed peas. He's not really a child anymore, but he's still & always will be "our" child. The year needs some luck and without him just trying ONE black eyed pea, it may all go to hell... again. I can't remember if he had one last year on 1-1-20, but there's a pretty good chance that he did not. Not that we're blaming all of 2020 on him, but who knows?

We've tried to disguise them in the Texas Cowboy Caviar or beautifully prepared with vegetables and sausage or hiding it under the ham or even a teaspoon fresh from the can. We tried wrapping it in bologna, like you would if you were feeding your puppy a pill. It takes everything he's got just to swallow one.dang.pea. It's just one. One for the world. Just one pea. Give Peas a Chance, child.

After ribbing and cajoling, he ate one. This year might be a little better than last year. Thanks to the child.

1/4/2020. -Wimberley, Texas
Sister Golden Pants

A near perfect day in the Hill Country.
73 Degrees
Sitting distanced from everyone on the porch at a local restaurant, I notice two lovers on the lower patio. We are merely the landscape, like tiny trees and clouds in a Bob Ross painting to them.

He brought his ukulele and plays love songs. She wears her marigold colored pants with the tiny top that shows just a hint to midriff, just because.. well.. 20.
She sits with her legs propped up on the bench. He wears his sunglasses and sings of her beauty.
The ukulele even has a fancy case. It's life affirming to witness, amidst the distancing and the masks.

I can hear a note or two, but mostly I hear the traffic from the street and the song "If you like Pina Coladas" through the speaker right above my head. This was almost a perfect scene until the Pina Colada played. Now I will be singing "If you like making love at midnight, on the dunes of the cape..." for the rest of the day. The lovers will be kissing and holding hands and not singing the Pina Colada song. They will singing the tune that the brave lover was singing to the tiny top and golden pant sprite. Maybe they will be singing How Deep is Your Love or You are So Beautiful or Brown Eyed Girl, by the creek, on this almost perfect day in the Hill Country.

Now Dream Weaver is playing, boxing Pina Colada right out of my brain, saving my day from a pink & baby blue, feathered hair flashback. Things are looking good again.

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New Year, Amen.

1/2/2021

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Well that was weird.

I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that on January 1st of 2020 I was singing with The Mystiqueros at one of the most iconic and fabulous places in the world, Gruene Hall. I was dancing with friends, standing next to Ron Flynt, gazing out in the packed audience and smiling so huge that my face hurt. It was a beautiful night, filled with beer, love and snacks that our friend Mary Johnson made & passed around to the entire crowd. It was a glorious ending to a great band. The Final Mysitquero show. It was sad, but soulful. Everyone loved that dang band.. but after 13 years, it was time to move on. I floated on that hippie musical love wave for a long time. January was full of gigs and fun. February was full of gigs and more fun. March was full of baseball and gigs and oh holy hell, what?! The TP is being hoarded at HEB? I heard the crowd at the Leander High baseball game nervously talking about this virus and how it is making people stock up on TP and paper towels and cleaning supplies and hand sanitizer and Oreos. And wine. For the love of all things holy.. NOT the wine.

We had a gig the next night in Dripping Springs. It was weird not to hug our friends. It was the introduction of the elbow bump. It was bizarre to talk about something so foreign as a "Pandemic" and not just the normal stuff like blowing our diets, what our kids were up to and where we were planning on going for Spring Break. I remember a pack of kids all gathering around our friend, and fellow musician, Marion Brackney...while she crouched down and showed them her violin close up. There were probably 6 kids staring at Marion with awe. Like some kind of real life super hero. It was beautifu.l and the night was, although strange, still kind of beautiful too. It was a tiny bit of heaven, amidst the looming news.

Then I woke up. Then we all woke up.

I just looked back on all of the months in my 2020 calendar. All of the gigs cancelled, trips cancelled, games cancelled. New, strange virtual plans implemented. Bad days. Sad days. Good days. It was the roller coaster of roller coasters. It was like The Galactic Vomitronasorous in the worst theme park ever. I had a year like that in 1994 and 1996. And 2013. But those were merely 1st and 2nd runner up and the Miss Congeniality of bad years. This year though... was just flat surreal for all of us. The Twisted Surrealasaurus. We all had things cancelled. We all stayed home and washed our hands into chappedom. We all grieved for what could have been. Some of us experienced the deepest of sorrows, in the hardest of years.

Deep Breath. Deep Pause. Continued Faith. Abundant Prayers. Vigilant Care.

We throw away last year's calendar and we start anew. Even though logically, it is just another day... it feels fresh to our psyche to begin again. Metaphorically, the slate is clean. It's good to clear out the junk of the past year, closets, garages, the pantry, attitudes, self loathing and the liquor cabinet. It's good to write down new goals, hopes and dreams. It feels right to create a positive roadmap... and hope we can get to the next level that our souls desire. Maybe this year. Maybe this year. Maybe this year will be my year. I think there are a bunch of us who could be healthier, strive to be happier and do our best to be better humans than we were at the Piggly Wiggly in the paper aisle in the 3rd week of March.

Some lessons learned from 2020? Be Kind & take care of each other. Don't hoard shit. Pick up after yourself. Plant a garden. Plant a tree. Recycle your tequila bottles. Write some poetry. Paint the playground. Take a walk. Take responsibility. Take science to heart. Be thankful. Wash your hands. Wash them again. Wear a mask. Wear a mask and volunteer. Call your friends. Call your family. Don't take travel for granted. Don't take each other for granted. Don't take your vibrant health for granted. Eat an apple rather than the Scoobydoodles. Take vitamins. Read a book. And maybe, when we leave this big blue marble, perhaps the generations will say... "It took a pandemic, but they kind of got some things right."

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Adventure

11/10/2020

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It's probably because we have not been able to freely roam in a long, long time. Being safe and mindful is the only way to be right now. We need to get a handle on this contagion, so we will follow the rules to do so. Not being able to just jump on a plane and fly to Europe is a weird sensation. Not that I've ever really done that... you know, like the romantic movies... buy a ticket, pack a coat, Ray-Bans, toiletries and spin the globe. Hey! Let's spend the week in Spain! Jump off the plane, look around, hail a cab, meet a guide that shows you around Barcelona for the day. He just so happens to be driving a taxi in the big city, to make some extra money to support his family's vineyard, that for generations has made the most luscious Tempranillo, but has fallen on tough times because of a recent drought. He will do all that it takes to save the heirloom vines that his great-great grandfather planted, nurtured and harvested for the good of the village. His wine brought the community together, when things were falling apart. I learn all of this while he is driving me to my hotel, before I venture on the next day to the La Rioja region, which so happens to be the place where his family lives. After a refreshing night of sleep and a quick tour of Gaudi's art installments, I meet Francisco, who found someone to cover his shift, to accompany me on my visit to La Rioja. We travel by rail for 4 hours and he tells me of the simple life, growing up in the middle of a vineyard, while I tell him of a contrasting life of living in suburbs of the US with it's greatness and fails. He is particularly interested in the wild spirits of Texas ... and I am invested in his stories of the dominant flavors of the Tempranillo varietal. We laugh, we cry, we drink fabulous wine on our journey. When we arrive, we are greeted by his extended family... swished off to a brilliant stone home, seated at a long table with white linen, faded silver, hand thrown pottery, cheese, cured meats, olives and yes, spectacular wine, from one of the 9 red noble grapes. It just so happens that one of Francisco's brothers plays Spanish guitar, so he just so happens to have it with him and the family just so happens to sing and cry and dance between our late lunch courses, that the grandmothers make and serve but don't speak any English. It's a glorious celebration of all the senses. I even try an olive, which is weird because I hate olives but everything seems just so perfect, that I thought maybe they taste differently here in the wine region of Northern Spain. Nope, still olive-y. The 70 degree day, my perfect choice of the one outfit I packed at the last minute, my ultra cool sunglasses, the light reflecting off of the colors of the changing vines... everything is in its heightened state. It leaves me feeling tingly and dreamy.

Oh.. I just realized that I feel asleep on my computer.. my hand is tingly and I must have been dreaming. What was I saying? Oh yeah.. I need an adventure.

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Clarity

11/7/2020

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I pray for clarity. Daily, I pray for peace. I pray for forgiveness and understanding. I pray for you. I pray for me. I pray for our future. I pray for our past. But today, I pray mostly for sweet clarity.

The lightness that comes after experiencing sadness and disillusion, is a welcome gift. The colors of the world seem to pop, I can smell bacon cooking a block away, I can hear an owl from the schoolyard at dawn. They were always there, but my clouded perception blocked my senses. It's like I was in a Star Trek episode where they put a forcefield around me... to only experience what was about 5 inches from my face. The funny thing is though, you learn to adapt to the routine of the forcefield. The forcefield can be a myriad of things. Spiritual, physical, emotional... you know, life stuff. Then one day you wake up and find that someone left the mystical key close to where you can stick your hand through the mystical bars and the mystical guard is asleep like in an old western movie and the mystical dog is right there with you, because he knows what it's like to want to fly and then you slowly creep your too- big- hand- for- the- bars to the tiny key and you barely can touch it and then you accidentally knock it away and then the dog mystically feels that he must move it with his nose closer to you, because your freedom is his freedom and then you are sweating because you know this is your one and only mystical chance to escape with your new friend the dog and then you start to feel that it's your responsibility to free the both of you and then you start to smell the bacon down the street... that the dog has been smelling since it came out the package and then you find yourself feeling that key on your fingertips, to the middle part of the digits to the top part of the palm to the opposing thumb that the dog wishes he had to a full grasp. You then take the key swing your hand through the too small bars wrap your hand around the lock and then the guard stirs. He is a bumbly kind of fellow that is really not fit for guarding, nonetheless, he is mystically in charge. You continue to try and unlock the mystical lock and after a couple of solid turns, it works. Now a more spiritually trained writer would most likely say that after all of that effort and self imposed constraints, ultimately there is No Lock.. but I am not that evolved, yet. So the lock comes off, the guard wakes up just as you are making your escape, the dog leads you to the door, you open the door and the light, the bacon and the owl are all there... waiting to welcome you with open arms.

Then, for a moment, you experience it. The deep breath, the wider view, the cool touch of the breeze. You feel... well... Alive. Ah! To hold on to that feeling!! To just hold. on. to. that. feeling.

Wishing you mystical moments of clarity today, Nov 8 2020.

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Unicorn

11/2/2020

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Yesterday I drove home from a beautiful day in Luckenbach. For those of you who have not been, Luckenbach is a cool place in the Hill Country of Texas where one can sit and listen to great music , have a beer and meet all kinds of interesting folks. It was a perfect weather day. People were kind and listened peacefully to the music. It felt a bit like church. Church with beer and puppies. The gospel was delivered by song, the congregation was diverse, fun and colorful. It was All Saints Day and it felt like it. I did not know who was going to vote for whom and I did not see any friction either way. What I saw was love. Love and more love. People buying beverages for each other. Kids running up and down the hills and climbing trees. There was no argument when one had to put on a mask to order drinks. People minded each other's space. A few even sat away from the crowd, quietly yet proactively minding their own health.

We live about an hour and a half drive from Luckenbach. My husband has played the first Sunday of the month (March-Nov) for 10 years now. We have spent a lot of time witnessing the magic of this place. We know that every place has its quirks, drama and troubles... but yesterday felt immune to it all. It's always a tough place to leave, because you know eventually you have to jump back into real life.

I left a little early in the set because 1: I knew if I stayed, I would be there until 8 and would have to dodge the deer all the way home. And 2: I had to get home to let our sweet dog out. It was a nice drive home. No deer and not too much Sunday traffic. I listened to Brene' Brown's podcast most of the way, sprinkled in with new Bruce Springsteen and some vintage Aretha Franklin. The sunset was particularly gorgeous. I tried to take an artsy photo of the sky in my rear-view mirror (like you see on instagram) but I thought I'd better keep my eyes on the windy road instead. Plus it seems like each time I think I can wrangle the sky in a phone photo, it looks like I am trying to wrangle the sky in a phone photo. With the time change, the colors of the sky were looking like a Bob Ross painting. OH! And then... the moon!! Making her dramatic exit as the featured guest star on a Saturday night Halloween. I could see her rise in the mirror and then to my right and then to my left and then to my right again. (FM 1431 is a winding road). She was lighting my way home.

When I reach the town of Lago Vista, reality starts to sink in. I will soon be making my way back to the rows and rows of homes, abundance of traffic and perhaps a palpable tension lingering in the air. I pass through another small town and slowly creep up on my left hand turn into our neighborhood. It's a nice neighborhood with good folks... but I wasn't ready to release my peaceful blanket that I was wearing from my weekend in the Hill Country. I pass by the QT gas station & the dog park. I turn right into the fancy new neighborhood, next to our humble older neighborhood. I drive through the stately homes decorated for Halloween. Feeling the calm slowly dissipate, I look to my right... and I see a 6 foot unicorn walking down one of the streets. I did a double take, like you see on a cartoon. I said out loud to myself.. "I think that was a 6 foot Unicorn" ... Thinking maybe I was hallucinating, I drove around the block just to be sure. Sure enough. Someone just decided to put on a unicorn costume and take a walk around the fancy block. (or maybe they never took it off from the night before) I loved it. It helped ease my anxiety about the week ahead and reminded me to try to stay light in spite of it all. One degree cooler would have been the unicorn smoking a cigar.

I might mosey into town today and buy a 1/2 price-post Halloween- unicorn costume to keep on hand for the remaining months of 2020. When you feel the familiar squeeze of these unpredictable days, look for the 5'5 flash of white and sparkly rainbow down one of your streets.

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