Dirt rises

Written last night:

I thought being 12 stories up I might avoid dirt. But today I discovered what makes my balcony dirty.  Not the pollen (which showers on Miami and Tallahassee, seasonally) or the dirt of passing cars, but dusty. Scott, the window treatment man who came today, said dust blown up from the arid landscape here is the culprit in Sacramento. You don’t see it swirling or anything like that, but it’s in the air. Oh, well, dirt is dirt. 

I did some errands this morning, and later in the elevator a neighbor told me she knew I was out because Zing barked. She and her husband were sympathetic: they’d once had a dog who barked like Zing.  Neighbors can tell me if Zing is barking when I’m gone, so I’m beginning to ask around. 

Cassi came today, and she trained me. I learned to entice Zing into his crate (not hard — done already — then to close the crate door momentarily, followed by a treat. Gradually make the closed-door time longer. Treats only when in crate. Edge toward door, followed by treat. Open front door. Treat. Extend time away from condo (just stand in hallway). Treat. Sometimes stay away a longer time. Sometimes not at all. You get the idea. I do too. Zing stays in crate when I’m gone, even if he barks. Then he won’t be at front door, won’t have the stimulation of the entire condo. Tire him out with long walk before I go out (The self-centered part of me says hey! this won’t always be possible! But for a couple of weeks, or maybe less, while training… I’ve got to do it. It means focusing lots on Zing (although Cassi says to keep the training sessions short). She’ll videotape him again in the middle of next week. I think I can last that long. Can you, Zing?

Love,

k

Sudden surge of energy

Written last night:

Whew! 

The turnaround from the hills to the city leaves me breathless.

What a beautiful experience all-around. I mean, Tallahassee-Sacramento was a stretch. But who would have thought that a change of scene much closer at hand would be just as sharp a contrast?

As you know, yesterday Zing and I drove the hour and a half to the Sierra Nevada foothills to be with Patrick and Steph for about 24 hours. Time was right for the visit: they had a few days to themselves and finally I feel able (eager?) to drive out of Sacramento to see the beauty everyone insists surrounds the city. I had a sudden surge of energy at an opportune time. It’s hard to believe (I’m so self-defeating sometimes), but they wanted us to visit. (Zing even got a special invitation.) Families evolve unpredictably, and I feel overwhelmed — happy — at this genuine affection and love.

This morning Patrick took me to see the garden. I got to see Lawren (who looks great!) and two others working there with him. Up there I kept asking Patrick, “Are these mountains? Are they hills?” It wasn’t craggy or rocky, and not too steep. But we were high up (2000 + feet — I can’t remember exactly, but a half-mile sounds right.). There were houses on hilltops, perched for the view, and from the garden you could see down into the cars on the road below. For someone used to flat Florida and then the valley where Sacramento lies, it was breathtaking. 

All around was evidence of last year’s devastating fire — barren areas with drooping, blackened trees. But green showed through, and lots of tall gold grass. I kept looking for birds and butterflies, and although they must be around, I didn’t see them — except for a single bird that I viewed from underneath as I drove home. Its wings seemed to be glowing red, lit from above by the sun. There were fields with horses and cows, roadside stands selling strawberries and pumpkins (which again is anachronous to someone who thinks strawberries come early in the year. Not here!) 

When I got home the jute carpet I’d ordered was rolled up in front of my door like a log from a big tree.  A sudden surge of a kind of angry energy lit me up and I swung that fat and heavy thing around and push-pulled it into my hallway. There was a knock at the door and the UPS man stood outside; he shoved a big cardboard box through the door and said goodbye. The box was 9-tenths crumpled paper, along with a comfortable rubber rug for in front of the sink. 

I won’t even get into the washer and dryer, which were scheduled for delivery tomorrow — finally — but (take a guess!!) won’t make it. They were rescheduled for the weekend after Thanksgiving. When I saw the email, that angry energy from before lit me up again, and I called Mui from Best Buy. She has worked a kind of magic so the delivery is now to be this Friday. Want to bet on it?

My energy is overflowing and I have been directing a kind of cordial impatience toward Zing too. I hope the country visit did him some good. Cassi the dog trainer is coming tomorrow.

Love,

k

Another California

Written last night:
I'm a licensed California driver! Passed the test this morning. What a relief! 

Then more business things that didn't get done yesterday. Got a video-bill from AT&T. Yes.  You have to watch a video explaining each line of the bill. It's because I checked the "paperless" option.  It was annoying, and I didn't finish watching. I hate it when  it's so obvious that machines are in charge.  

After lunch Zing and I drove to Mountain Ranch for our first visit to Patrick and Steph's. We are spending the night, and right now are in bed there. Wow! I love life's beautiful surprises. The drive began flat and boring, then the hills appeared and I got overcome with the expanse of it. The hills were very gentle at first, then higher and rounder, studded with trees.  The road curved in sweeps, and the scenery was all green and gold (dried grass maybe/ I don't know the seasonal colors here yet.) The slope got steeper and there was lots of space between houses, interspersed with small towns. It feels so distant from Sacramento city life.  To get to P &S's house you make a sharp turn off the main road. Their drive slants upward. The house is smallish (They say -- I can't remember the square footage, and it feels roomy.) and full of character, with a front porch and fireplace. They have several acres of gorgeous, rather steep hillside. It is wonderful to be together. 

Tending to those little details

Written last night:

Today ran away with me: motivated by Zing’s (and my) need for a dependable, cozy home, I determined to line up things I’ve neglected: window coverings (I love the light, but maybe full-on it’s too brash.), disposing of the broken bed, and minding to other details. I don’t know if it’s grief or laziness, but until now I was not interested or able to accomplish much. Also, when I go out to do these things, Zing stays home, barking. It slows you down.

Today 

• A goat farmer with a hauling business and his apprentice took away the bad, bad broken bed frame. 
• A butcher at Safeway Market made my day with his smile. He’s another one of those people who focus directly on the person they are serving. 
• I got out of Ikea with just a box of cinnamon rolls.
• I made a Thursday appointment with Cassi, the dog trainer. (I am witless with worry about Zing.)
• I wrote a poem called How to bark.

This evening Zing and I followed the crowd to the Arena. The (Don’t tell anyone, but I have to look this up! If Clark were here he’d tell me, laughing.) Oh, yes, the Kings — they played the Israeli national professional basketball team in an exhibition game. I loved being in the crowd. Is that the best thing about basketball?  And I loved passing by the entrance and going home instead of the game! I do feel partial to the Kings, now that I know who they are. I'm glad the arena has a busy schedule.

Kind of an ordinary day, otherwise. I assume Zing barked, and he may bark tomorrow morning, when I take my driver’s license test. Then we’re going to the country to visit Patrick and Steph. Driving beyond the city has seemed daunting until now. Internet service may be spotty there, so I might skip a day. But I hope not. This should be interesting.

Love,

k

This shifting life

Written last night:

I admit it — this is hard — My house is unkempt, my dog is uneasy, and I am unable to see very far ahead. This shifting life reminds me of sailing, with the deck always tilting; you’ve got to watch the wind. And who can see the wind?

But today was full of angels. I can’t remember when, but some years back I became aware of them: people seemingly sent directly to me, often on a hard day, bringing some kind of sweetness.. You probably have had such encounters. (It’s what Clark and I had in mind when we named the best thing that happened each day.) 

By midmorning I was feeling trapped and troubled from staying with Zing. So we took a walk, faster and farther than we’ve been able to manage since arriving in Sacramento. My knee has improved every day and — startlingly — today it doesn’t hurt at all. Plus I’ve taught myself to spring off my toes and navigate with my hips,  instead of leaning on my knees for all progress.

We practically spun down 2nd Street toward Old Town by the Sacramento River, then beyond to the Railroad Museum and almost to where the Sacramento and American Rivers meet.

On our way through Old Town we met two couples, one from Chicago and one (with three small dogs)  from Los Angeles. Both encounters practically glowed with kindness and affection. It felt like we should all have dinner and exchange Christmas gifts. They gave me hope. 

The whole thing made Zing tired.

Which was my goal, since I had my first poetry class at at the Crocker Museum at 1:30 p.m. I left Zing sleepy but unwilling to relax in his crate home. I gave him a little meatball with some happy herb juice for dogs on it, promised to be back and then hoisted the blockade of footstools and furniture so he couldn’t reach the front door.

(You probably know I love poetry, and this class was another high spot of the day.) 

Afterward, Zing met me at the door, having slipped through my makeshift wall. He was silent for that second; what happened before is his secret.

Happy (should we still call it) Columbus Day!

Love,

k

R

Old Town building
Mechanics'  Exchange
Love the apostrophe!

The barricade of pillows

Wandering close to home

Written last night:

Zing is asleep in his crate; it’s on the floor beside me, here at the big table in — living/dining/kitchen big room. 

This has to be progress.

But I’m afraid he’ll still bark when I’m out. He was barking this morning when I returned from Xfinity. I was gone about 45 minutes. Before I left I made a blockade between the living room and the hall (ottomans and boxes and the rollaway bed, cemented with sheets and blankets to fill in the spaces. The idea is that maybe he won’t bark if he can’t get to the front door. That’s where he’s been barking. Of course, maybe he was silent while I was gone and only barked “Hello!” I doubt it.

The idea is to find comfort spots for Zing, and for me too. Maybe then we’ll rest easy.

I feel tethered to the condo. But being here all day was  relaxing. I did  things to make the place homey: ordered a jute rug, connected the new box to the television (It turns on!), kept up with bills … 

And on our evening walk Zing and I passed a man raking ginkgo fruit. (Turns out that's what we saw set out near the street yesterday.) I asked to take his photo, and he nodded. He seemed to like what I showed him, but he did not speak much to me — just kept on raking. 

I remember Dad planted a gingko tree once, and he told me they are good luck. 

Under the ginkgo tree on 4th Street, near my condo

Some of the gingko fruit swept up by the curb

Safe and cozy

Written last night: 

I am watching Zing stick his head into his new “house” — the crate I bought today after seeing our trainer Cassi's video of Zing barking and barking at our door for almost three hours while I was away at the dentist’s.

So! It’s true! (are we surprised?)  Zing insistently barks at the door when I’m gone.

Disheartening.
Must I be with Zing constantly?
Will I have to find a new place to live?
Can I have a life?

Cassi’s advice: *

1. Keep Zing away from the door. That’s the only place he barked. (In the video he takes occasional --silent -- tours of the living room and kitchen.) So tomorrow, when I leave to do errands, I’ll pile ottomans and footstools to blockade the hallway leading to the door. 
2. Introduce him to the safe space, a new “house” that is a comfy crate covered with a quilt, with his special bed inside and his food and favorite toy and a smelly T-shirt to remind him of me. 
3. Tempt him repeatedly to enter the crate and comfortably enjoy it as a safe nest. Follow every positive move he makes with a healthy treat. Leave the door open. Later in the week, when he’s comfortable, close the crate door. Then open it. Treat. Repeat.  
4. Practice leaving. Get ready. Go to the door. Don’t leave. Do this a lot. (It takes the threat out of leaving.)
5. Then repeat the above, but step outside. Come back in. Quick

* Many of you who have pets know this stuff, and you've already given me much of this advice. I've been blithely blind. Seeing Cassi actually act out how I do and say the consoling things for Zing helps.

The hardest part so far was putting the crate together. The hardest part for Zing? Not sure. Right now he’s sitting on a pillow next to the crate. 

Tomorrow I’m leaving Zing alone while I do errands. Maybe he’ll feel more peaceful this new way. I don’t think I will relax -- not until there's  a video of Zing, quiet and alone at home. 

I’m sad and worried.

Written this morning:

Zing is snoozing in his cozy crate home  beside me. The door is open. 

I'm leaving for Xfinity store in 5 minutes.
... to be continued ...