County Clare, Ireland – Wednesday, September 2010
“I won’t be giving you a ride deary, but I’m happy to give you a lift!” I blushed, immediately realizing what I had just said to the older gentleman bus driver. He was about 5’5 with sparkling blue eyes and wirey gray hair. He had a sharp twinkle in his eye. The passengers of the Galway Tours bus made their way back onto the bus we stood before, the wind was just picking up around the famous Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, Ireland.
From the passenger seat I watched the front right tire of the jeep roll up, and twist over a big rock in the trail. In the shiny, black metal I could see the reflected red hued mountains in the distance along the desert trail, wrapped up in the endless, clear blue sky above. Our friends followed along in an older little vehicle, their windows down, in awe at the Jeep crawling over the rocks, flexing and bending over the washed out parts of the road. It would go anywhere. It also made a big spectacle of everything it went over, a nimble black widow scampering across its web on long, nimble legs. Their little vehicle, sporting brand new little tires lightly rolled right over the same obstacle with much less of a show. The wind whistled between the cactus spines along the trail before us.
I am the “zen” one. I have an amazing ability to be calm and relaxed when the world is crashing around me. Sometimes it might seem like I’m always calm and worry free. But that is not always the case, I do have worries and struggles, I just don’t let anyone on to them, it shouldn’t be their worry. But I worry about money, a lot. I think a lot of Americans do.
The start of Fall in the desert found two new creatures in my life; two baby dairy goats. Why did you get goats? They ask. For years I’ve wanted a dairy cow, a Jersey cow of my own so I could drink milk from my own cow. I have since realized what a large investment that is, and how impractical that would be for my current lifestyle. A dairy cow is for a family.
February 9th 2013
“Tattoos are a right of passage. They’re a marker of bravery, of maturity, of cultural acceptance. The tattoo represents not only a willingness to accept pain – to endure it – but a need to actively embrace it. Because life is painful – beautiful but painful…….”
― Nicola Barker, The Yips
The bell jingles, the door opens and my nose catches whiffs of sterile fluids. It’s lunchtime and the tattoo artists are cleaning, sharpening, sterilizing their equipment, and setting up their stations. Long strands of light poured onto the wooden floors. Continue reading
Big brown eyes shaded with long eyelashes blinked up at me. Jerad had the calf squished tight between his knees, a rope around its neck. A warm breeze fought against the cool morning dew. I had prepared the ear tag device, written the number 120, shoved it into the metal contraption with a large needle on one side. Continue reading
JUNE 30, 2006
“Are you cool with this still?” Gaby asked. I gave her a lopsided grin from the drivers seat; my breathing slowed from nerves. I shut the car off, I was going to overcome one of my fears. We walked in the wooden white door and were greeted by a guy with shaggy, curly dark hair and soft brown eyes. I was dreading seeing him. He called me sweetheart and led us into a back room. I had met him before. Continue reading
The “birds nest” was a long, narrow hallway leading out to a window overlooking the historic Remington Street. A paper tacked up to the wall warned, “Don’t store your stuff here” and wooden floorboards under the crumply carpet we stood upon moaned as we made our way back downstairs. We passed a room full of all sorts of bits and bobs, fans and beds, pictures, things, and a big window, a coffee machine. Was it a room? I wondered. Continue reading
Shoved off on the side of the room sit three lone boxes, patiently. They are ready to be shipped, but haven’t moved since Thursday when I got the urge to finally tape and seal them all, trapping all the contents of the past year in Europe in a box. They await their long journey, by ship, to the United States. Continue reading