Home to Stay

Inspirational song: Cold (Annie Lennox)

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. I wanted it not to be true. I wanted the neighbors' description to be wrong.

We went back to the Humane Society today, and waited while they went through the files from Animal Control. They found the report in the computer with the right street address, and they had an employee prepare the body for us to view. It was her. That was our tiny little Zoe Monkey on the table, under a blanket. And she was never going to cuddle with us again. Mr S-P pulled the blanket back a little farther than the tech did, and verified the one thing that held any comfort for us--she did not suffer. Her death was very quick. But it was much too soon, and it has ripped my heart open to have to accept it.

Before we went to the Humane Society, we went to the big plant nursery across the street, hoping to find the right tree or shrub to honor Zoe with. Like Torden has his Rose of Sharon and Cricket has her American Beauty Berry back at the original Park, we wanted something beautiful to put over Zoe. She loved hanging out under the neighbor's lilac tree, so we hoped there would still be a lilac for purchase this late in the year. We found two, although both look rough as they head into their cold-weather dormancy. One was more shrub-like, smaller, and it will bloom more of a traditional purple. The other is more tree-like, and it will have magenta-pink blooms. It was that one we chose to mark Zoe's grave. We will find a spot for the other in the front yard.

I have a lot of grieving to do. I can't process yet that she is out back, and never coming inside again. Her presence is still very strong in this house. We went out to dinner tonight with a good friend, something we had planned for two months. The venue was beautiful, and normally I would have been taking pictures and raving about the new hotspot. But it felt so wrong to look for beauty on a day when all my joy is now in a hole under a lilac tree. I couldn't do it. Someday I'll go back to that restaurant when my heart doesn't ache so much. For now, I owe Zoe the respect to feel the pain of her loss fully. I do.

Zoe Monkey

Inspirational song: Baby Monkey, Riding On a Pig, Baby Monkey (Internet meme)

There has been a tragedy. I hate to report it, and I hate it more that it is true. Zoe had been missing since yesterday morning. The last I saw her, she zipped in through the front door when the guy was here to fix the internet, and apparently she just as quickly zipped out the back again. And then she was gone. We have been walking the streets, calling for her since yesterday afternoon. Just now, Mr S-P talked to a neighbor two doors down who gave us the crushing news. Right after I saw her last, she was hit by a car on our street. She's gone.

Things had finally settled into a good routine here. Zoe would go out in the mornings when the dogs had breakfast, and while I was here alone, I would tell her every time to come home safely. That was my only instruction, and I said it every day. She was always home by evening. She had a spot she liked to sleep in, on the day bed in my dressing room. She was actually starting to get along with Rabbit. Even better, she was finally loving up on me. We were happy.

We had been out of our minds with worry since yesterday night. We knew this time it felt different. The neighborhood just seemed quieter to me somehow. Zoe's daddy woke up at 5 this morning, and walked all over several blocks, looking for her. We went to the Humane Society and filled in a missing cat report. We decided as soon as we found her, we would finally get her microchipped. When we got back home tonight, the man went looking again, and this time he went knocking on doors to ask neighbors. That's when the news came. The neighbors described her, and said they called animal control. She was already gone when they did it.

I can't stand it. She was extra work, but she was worth it. She was unique, like no cat I've had before. I thought she was a survivor, considering her background. We are going to miss her like crazy. Goodbye, Zoe Monkey.

Will This Be On the Test?

Inspirational song: Eminence Front (The Who)

We just spent two and a half hours talking about eminent domain, easements, and ownership. My brain is swimming. There isn't much that's fun about any of our topics for the evening. But there was an awful lot for discussion. This was the most action-packed class yet. Several times the conversation came back around to our property up the mountain, and its access problems. I wish I had heard any information tonight that could shore up our desire for a road that we could drive on all the way up to the claim. Unfortunately there was little comfort to be had. Instead, there was a cautionary tale of a couple who lost their mountain property to eminent domain, after they ran afoul of John Law by getting caught clearing trees off of an old 1880s road. The lesson we took away was summarized by our instructor. "You have a right to access your property. You do not necessarily have the right to drive a car to your property." Okay, then. Noted.

Our first midterm is next class, and suddenly I'm having test anxiety. Before class started, a couple weeks ago, I felt rather cocky. I knew I could learn the material, and I was even confident about my ability to pass the licensing exam on the first go-round. What I was worried about was getting hired somewhere, and the mechanics of getting those first one of two clients. I know I can do this job, but how do I market myself and convince someone to employ me to do it for them? Now that insecurity is bleeding over just a little bit into worry over the midterms. It's a short class, and there's a lot of material to cover in two quick months. I will study, and I will do fine, but I'm letting myself get nervous for now. It has to be better than being arrogant and making dumb mistakes.

I want to unwind and go to bed, and I also want to whip out the books and start studying now. I'm in two minds, and both of them are getting spun up about the "easiest midterm of the three." Crap. Where are my notes?

Sunday Drivers

Inspirational song: Lucky (Fish)

I thought I was completely off in my timing and my luck today. I had no sleep (thanks to a certain male person who stayed out late at the Great American Beer Festival last night, and who still got up freaky early this morning), and we got a late start to our day. We arrived in the mountains two hours later than we'd planned, but once I started losing horribly in the penny slots, I decided it was just as well. It would have been quicker to set fifty dollars on fire in a metal trash can, but only barely. That man had a little better luck than I, but he didn't seem inclined to cash out when he was up over a hundred bucks on the penny slots, and I held no high ground from which to criticize. We only stayed there an hour, thinking we were leaving in plenty of time to drive north to our next destination, but no. This weekend was just past the peak of fall foliage season, and every yahoo within range decided to go up to the mountains to take pictures of trees. Sure, I know I did it recently, but when I drove, I went the speed limit, not fifteen miles an hour under it, and I didn't choke off dozens of drivers behind me acting like I'd never steered a car around a curve before. It took us well over two hours to drive a distance that should have taken at most an hour and a quarter. Along the entire route, scores of vehicles were pulled over along the side of the road, and people were wandering around with their cell phones in front of their faces, taking pictures of everything. So naturally, as we went past, I took pictures of the tourists taking pictures. I tried taking a few of the fading aspen colors as we slowly rolled past, but there were few real winning shots to be had, even at that speed. I guess now I wait to see whether my little aspen in front of my garage will turn golden, or will it fall victim to the fungus that resulted from the overly wet spring this year.

After all the frustrations of the morning and early afternoon, right at three o'clock, our luck turned dramatically. Today was a very special day, and despite the best efforts of idiotic lowlanders looking at pretty leaves (yes, I know I'm occasionally one of them), we arrived with two minutes to spare for the ceremony that took us into the mountains to begin with. One of our dear family friends was formally installed as the pastor of his new church, and we were invited to come witness the event. We've been friends for many years, since we all survived the North Dakota winters together with good humor and good alcohol, and we were honored to get to sit with his wife in the second row, as his new congregation welcomed him to be part of their family. They kept saying that moving here has felt like coming home to them, and I am so glad to hear that. I was one of his biggest cheerleaders when he admitted that he was ready to find a new church, begging him to throw extra weight behind any openings that he might find in Colorado. How fortuitous that he found the perfect one here! I told one of the church elders later, at the reception, that I decided I would take all the credit for getting him here, even though she had been on the search committee. We laughed and agreed to share the credit equally. It looks like our friends truly have found the right place to call home. I was moved when it came to the part of the ceremony when the search committee and many of the other elders surrounded him to physically welcome him--forty people putting hands on him, or hands on someone else who was touching him, in a giant, extended version of a group hug, while a regional pastor read a prayer of welcome. I don't remember anything like that from my church as a kid, even though I vividly remember an associate pastor showing up during my high school years. (Long story, doesn't end well.) After the reception, we went out with the pastor and his wife, and two of their friends from down South who flew in for the ceremony. The good feelings rolled on, carrying us through a long dinner and chat in the parking lot under the beginnings of the lunar eclipse.

As we drove home, we tried and tried to get good views of the eclipse, and to force our little cell phone cameras to take a picture that wasn't grainy and blurry. We failed. We could see the moon as we wound down the mountain, every bit as slowly as this afternoon. And this time, as the twisty mountain roads were lined with people who had pulled over and were staring blankly at the sky, the mood felt a little less humorously benign. It felt like a blockbuster action movie, one where an alien ship looms over a city, and the citizenry just stands like cattle, waiting for the laser blast to blow them all away, or the point right after the people start turning into zombies, and the highways are a choked mess. At least we got to see the moon in real life, even if our digital recording devices could do nothing for it. As the shadow of the earth reached the farthest point of a full eclipse, the sliver of light on the right side of the moon revealed in three-dimensional glory the shape of the moon. It didn't seem quite so washed out, so over-exposed with reflected light, and for the first time in a long time, it really seemed close to me. I love that moment when you can feel the earth at your back (even from standing) and you can sense where the moon is hanging in real space, and though it is far away, it feels more real than when it's just a distant, glowing spot in the sky. How lucky to get to experience that tonight of all nights.

Playing With Glue

Inspirational song: Makin' It Natural (Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show)

Marketing works. It really does. At least, I appear to be susceptible to it. I delete dozens of emails from companies trying to sell me something every day, but once in a while, I see an ad for sixty percent off of something I kind of wanted to buy anyway, and I'm lost. I have been wanting to do up the front porch for fall since we moved in. I caved in today, while all the fall decor stuff was on sale at Michaels. I have only ever tried to make a wreath once before in my life, and it was an unqualified disaster. (It was made from natural greenery, only wired together without a rigid frame, and it was before my severe contact allergies were controlled. It was terrible.) So I don't have much experience to draw on. I had no idea how much stuff to get. I didn't even have a hot glue gun anymore. I totally guessed, and to be sure I wasn't going too terribly far over the top, I put back two items before I left the store. It didn't save me any money, really. I added in a couple adult coloring books, so it balanced out. (Tipped the scales, actually.)

I clipped apart the flowers and cattails, and loosely set them in place. I scattered around the loose leaves, and wrapped ribbon around the whole things, before I ever opened the package on the glue gun. I got grapevine crumbs and glitter all over the floor and table. I made a colossal mess. But I think I got it relatively balanced, and only slightly over-decorated. I'm actually rather proud of it.

My neighbor was laughing at me for wanting to buy silk leaves to decorate with. He promised that if I could give him a day or two to rake, he could provide all the leaves I could ever want. I don't know how to preserve natural leaves in such a way to protect the pretty fall colors, so I declined his offer and bought the fake stuff. I think it came out just fine that way.

Crud

Inspirational song: Coconut (Harry Nilsson)

The day started so well. How did it go to crap so quickly? Before I was even done with my morning coffee, I started feeling rough. I said that I was hungry but didn't feel up to cooking breakfast. We agreed to go to breakfast, but I had to wait hours before the man just up and disappeared, claiming he was out front waiting for me to come to the car. I had no idea he was finally ready to go. We argued in the car, and I decided I wasn't up to food after all. So I came back home. I don't think I have spoken a single word since. My head is throbbing, I have a fever, and I'm still holding on to residual annoyance. I tried to work on homework all evening, but I can't concentrate on reading no matter what I do. I have to comment on two classmates' discussion threads before tomorrow, but I just stared at the words, not absorbing anything. I got lucky and answered the ten questions on the chapter six quiz right the first try (we get 3 total). One of my classmates already missed a day to some virus that was going around. Have I had enough contact with other humans to catch one as well? It's looking likely. I seriously hope it's a quick one. Now, where's the Advil?

Anne's Hierarchy of Needs

Inspirational song: Instant Karma (John Lennon)

It took me years to decide whether to make the leap into real estate, but once I committed to it in my heart, I believed I was on the right path. The more of these classes I attend, and the more I spend time with our instructor, the more I am becoming certain of that. Tonight, I got the best reinforcement I possibly could at this point. The instructor said a few simple words, "I think you have the right temperament for this." I've had several people say similar things, but it felt really good to hear the same thing from a man who has so many years of experience in managing, training, and recruiting agents. I think he's right too, and that's not me being immodest. I've had a lot of jobs that skirted the edge of counseling (or were actually called that), and all of that will come in handy in this new career field. I like doing it, and I'm good at it. Those jobs were leading up to this, I have to believe.

We spent the evening talking about the different brokerages in the area, and compared their business models. Most of them were about what I expected, a few better, a few worse. I paid extra close attention when he spoke of the nationally-known brokerage where I long thought I would end up. They are still a good option for me, but I'm starting to see that they aren't my only one. Might not necessarily be my best one either. I have to evaluate what my goals are, and decide what fits my needs. The instructor runs his own mom & pop type brokerage, and his business model is very compelling. His compensation plan is good, to be sure, but he offers something I've never seen before. To be part of his company, agents are required to give back to the community, in a tangible way. Part of the money the brokerage collects goes to covering the costs of volunteering, and all the agents have to put in a minimum number of volunteer hours per year. This is a fantastic way of doing business. I'm not in this to get rich. I'm looking for a career that makes me feel like I matter.

The instructor's business is located in the same town where I'm traveling to go to school, so going to work for him would present a logistical problem. I'd be in the car an awful lot. But to be a real estate agent, that is what I would be doing regardless, so does it matter really where my desk is located? At the beginning of class last week, he encouraged all of us to come interview for his company, if we so chose. Tonight, he repeated that invitation. Once I have taken the test, and passed it, I may just take him up on his offer of an interview. I can't imagine a brokerage that fits my life goals more than his. Wouldn't it be great if he thought I was the right fit for his business too?

Waiting for the Day

Inspirational song: One Fine Day (Marillion)

I truly thought it would have gotten cold by now. I was so excited to come out here to Colorado, thinking that my favorite day would come early, compared to the last places I've lived (the Low Country, Occupied West Texas, and the Taint of Death Valley). Since I was a little girl, I have counted the moments every summer until that moment I am sure that cold weather is upon me. There's a day in the fall when the skies are gray, there is a persistent drizzle, and the temperature is a constant 45-50 degrees all day. It never snows on this day, but it makes me think of snow fondly. It smells like fireplace smoke and tastes like hot chocolate. I always try and get out of the house on this day, so I can listen to the cars make swooshy, slushy noises. I get to wear sweaters and I spend at least part of the day snuggled under a blanket, and it makes me very, very happy.

But that day hasn't arrived yet. It's not even close. The whole next week will be overly warm, and there's not even a remote chance of rain in any of that time. I'm at a loss to explain how this happened. We made jokes about how there's always a chance of snow in September out here, but we never even brushed against it. I worried about the man going on his exciting vacation for three weeks without hooking up the new thermostat in case it got cold, and yet I never once considered turning on the heat the entire time he was gone.

Ah, who am I to complain, really? I know damned well that by February I will be so sick to death of cold, I will be asking to fly back to visit my friends in the Low Country, just to warm up a few degrees. For now, my garden is still going crazy, and my flowers out front are still blooming. I needed extra weeks for my tomatoes to ripen and my new perennials to get established. The animals still get to play outside. All the windows get to be open day and night. It's gorgeous out there. I just wish... for one day....

To Be Where I Am Not

Inspirational song: Up Where We Belong (Joe Cocker)

Climbing up the steep path on the top of Trail Ridge this weekend has given me a goal. I've been taking forever to get my mountain lungs since we've been back. It's not a surprise, I always tended to suffer a bit when I returned to altitude over the years. Migraines, bad moods, racing heart, fatigue, all part and parcel of vacations back to see family. A few holidays were ruined by the whole mess plus vomiting too. For the first month or so we were here this summer, I thought my heart was going to explode from my chest whenever I walked more than about fifteen steps. So when I made it all the way to the twelve-thousand-foot level on that trail Sunday, and I could still breathe, albeit in great gulps at first, I was understandably proud of myself. I was finally starting to adapt. So I came up with an idea. This trip was at the three-month point of being back in Colorado. So I want to go back up to Trail Ridge at the one-year point, and see how much easier the climb is. I expect to do it much better, once I've had more time to expand my lungs.

I still haven't been to the mountain claim. The man and his dogs are up there now, trying to get a last few projects completed before winter arrives. Yes, I realize that today is only the first day of fall, but the mountain doesn't care. The aspens have already turned up there, and the air is chilly, or so I have been told. It may be fully spring before I get taken up to tour it again. If I am working on my mountain lungs, as I will be for the above experiment, then I should be able to scale up no problem by the time I finally get my invitation to the claim. (Technically I had one before, but plans changed at the last moment and none of us went up.)

I'm so happy to have made it to the autumnal equinox. Summer seemed to drag on forever for me, and I had started to wonder whether the season would ever change. I absolutely love the fall, and not just for artificially flavored pumpkin spice everything. I love the air, the light, the colors, the smells, the holidays, the foods, the sports, all of it. The weather forecast is still too warm and dry for my favorite day of the year, but it will come soon. It might be fully October before the cold, gray drizzle arrives, but it is coming. And I will hail the day in song. Three cheers for autumn! Huzzah!

Just Talking

Inspirational song: Hush (Deep Purple)

I've long wondered what effect my career change will have on my nightly essays, and how badly my store of subject matter might dry up, from an ethical standpoint. I think we got that answer tonight in class. This week they are drilling into our memories the fiduciary responsibilities associated with the laws of agency. Once I as an agent (assuming I successfully complete this class and pass the test) enter into a relationship with a client, I am forever bound to keep that client's confidence. It won't end once I close on a house with that person. I will always have to keep their details secret. I never planned on closing each day telling you how much money anyone has to buy a house, or such nonsense, but I still have to be very careful not to reveal much of anything about my job once I have it. I might be really tempted to blog about how I just took a listing on a house that is all pink, from the walls to the curtains to the carpet to the fixtures, pink, pink, pink. But I will have to resist temptation, no matter how funny or unbelievable I might find my work to be on a given day, when anything I say could link back to someone who has offered me their trust. I hope that there will be things that I am allowed to say, but for now I'll err on the side of caution until I figure out whether I could or more importantly should.

Class is going really well so far. Three nights in and I feel like I'm getting a good handle on it. I'm not shy about asking the dumb questions, or participating in group discussions, even when my answers are wrong. I learn as much from making mistakes as from getting homework or quizzes all correct. In some ways I wish I had taken this leap years ago, back when it first occurred to me that I wanted to do this for a living, but it does seem like this particular class, with this particular teacher, was waiting for me to reach it in my own time. The instructor really knows his subject, and he has a knack for steering class discussion to making sure we are absorbing what we need to know.

I don't know whether it's a result of fatigue, from studying and driving and working my brain overtime, but I am more amused than I ought to be by tonight's picture. I love language nerd graffiti. I was in a building where languages are regularly taught (ESL meets next door to our real estate class), and in a bathroom with slow plumbing. Whoever made the signs in each stall had a sense of humor, and the result was like Tumblr appearing in the wild.

On Top of the World

Inspirational song: Fantastic Day (Haircut One Hundred)

It is fair to say, we get around. At our last home, we spent hours upon recreational hours on the Edge of America, the local nickname for Folly Beach. Somewhere we've got pictures of the four of us in Death Valley, at the lowest point below sea level on the continent. Today, we went the opposite direction, and played around on the highest paved road in the U.S. And for the first time, I wasn't relegated to riding shotgun on this trip. I drove up the hill, knowing that holding on to the steering wheel is the best antidote for my acrophobia and my fear of dying as a passenger in a car that is plummeting off of a mountain road. It also helps me choose my own locations to pull over for photo opportunities, rather than having to sit and holler "Stop! I said stop! Stop now! Stop fifteen feet ago!"

It's early in the season for fall color, but at altitude, there were plenty of aspen trees blazing in various shades of gold. We had to get higher up than the worst beetle-kill areas to reach them (and the innumerable trees standing dead just freaks me out.) We went up through Rocky Mountain National Park, all the way up Trail Ridge Road, and we took the hike up the few hundred extra feet in elevation from the ranger station and gift shop up to the top of the trail, where I was told one can see all the way to Wyoming and Kansas (obviously in opposite directions). It was a rough climb for a middle-aged lady who still has sea-level lungs, but I made it all the way up there and I provided proof. It was a gorgeous day today. The skies were absolutely clear, giving us plenty of natural vitamin D, and it was ridiculously warm. I brought a hoodie with me, but most of the day I was wishing I hadn't even worn a long-sleeved t-shirt. I couldn't believe how warm it was. I've been up there on summer days when it snowed, but today we could barely find any permafrost ice fields in the panoramic vistas. We were even scandalized by the amount of scrubby little spruces growing along the road, well above the tree line. We can't say whether that is a product of climate change, or simply a factor of cars delivering tree seeds as they drive up the tourist road. Time will tell on that.

The whole day was a feast for the senses. The colors and light were enough to delight in their own right, but the wind was blowing mildly, stirring up scents of pine and spruce. It made me excited to think about the winter holidays to come, replete with greenery and pine-scented candles that will fill every inch of my house. And, as he has done dozens of times while we were out in the wilds, Mr S-P hopped out of the car at one photo stop, and snagged a few raspberries growing wild on the side of the road (shh.. don't tell). There was even a treat for the animal lovers in us, when bold little chipmunks darted up to pose for photos and ask us whether we had any snacks to share (we did not).

I took hundreds of pictures. Let me see if I can't whittle them down to a manageable collection...