Peter the Peaceful

 

Today I decided to give away Peter's house and hutch and made plans to visit a friend of mine. The day I got Peter I hauled him into her office to show him off. Poor Peter. I still remember him sitting on the counter not knowing what to do with himself. He was so much smaller then. She understood my excitement as she had a feisty boy bunny named Burt. At the time we thought Bella [Peter's name before his sex change] was a girl, so during our next visit she gave me one of Burt's toys to share with Bella. It was a little stuffed bunny.

"Bella will love the smell of it."

"Bella" mutilated it and soon after I discovered Peter was a boy. It all made sense.

My friend also grew up on a farm and is the head of 4-H for our county. She knows animals and she'd know who would need a free rabbit house or hutch. As luck or coincidence would have it, I saw her today walking into the post office so I parked and went in. I asked if she knew anyone who would have need of a house or hutch. She looked at me sympathetically and asked if Peter had passed. Burt had passed a few years ago, but I didn't find out for months. She couldn't bring herself to tell anyone and refused to talk about him until many months later.

I explained it was much worse than that. He disappeared. I had no idea what happened, but I only imagined the worse. My friend said that happens. It happened to her cat. I asked if her cat had disappeared without a trace. No, she heard the dogs kill her cat. I told her I was sorry. She thought for a minute.

"But wasn't Peter quite old?"

"Yes, he was eight. I expected I'd go out one day soon and find him lying still under a bush."

"That is very old for a rabbit. And he was outside in the yard for a number of years. Did he ever have a problem before now."

"No."

"And you haven't seen predators lurking about because you know if they found food once, they will come back to check for more."

"No. Nothing."

She explained, "It doesn't sound like anything killed him or he would have put up a fight. You would have found fur all over the yard. Animals prepare for death and are very crafty about hiding their remains."

"But everyday for nearly two weeks I walked around the yard checking. The garden shed is the most practical hiding place. I should have smelled something if he was under the shed."

"Oh, no, you wouldn't have. Old animals about to die den up. They do whatever possible so predators will not find their remains especially in the wild. They will often dig or bury themselves. You usually won't smell them nor find them." She told me of rebuilding a porch at her old family home and discovering the bones of a cat. She didn't know which one as so many of them in old age just disappeared. My old childhood cat disappeared on our farm, too, and I remember an adult saying animals like to die in private.

I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. Then I burst into tears the first time in weeks. In between sobs I said, "Thank you! I am so relieved to know he IS under the garden shed and died in peace like he should have."

R.I.P. Peter Rabbit

Roasted Roots (recipe)

I've been trying to find uses for kale. I know kale is supposed to be really, really good for a body, but the first recipe I tried I found it intolerable and impossible to eat. It hurts. The texture is hard, the edges are sharp, chewing is too much work, and the taste is nasty. Like spinach only stronger. Then I read kale also thickens blood. This is great if you have thin blood, but thick blood runs in my family and although I probably don't eat, drink or smoke like my relatives have done throughout the ages, this still might make me susceptible to heart attacks and blood clots. Still, extra minerals added to my diet are a good thing now and then.

Then I found this roasted root recipe out of Chef Daniel Bruce: Simply New England cookbook that mixes root vegetables with kale. Roasted roots are also very good for a body loaded with vitamins and minerals, and yummy as warm winter meals. The kale is not only mixed with something, but cut up into teeny, tiny little bits so I thought I might be able to tolerate that! What I didn't realize until I went shopping for ingredients is there are different types of kale.



Italian Lacinato Kale

What I purchased for the first recipe was "Green Kale." Really curly, and like I mentioned previously, sharp and painful. This new discovery is called "Italian Kale" or "Lacinato Kale." No sharpness. No pain.

Ingredients:

2 medium peeled carrots
1 small peeled butternut squash
1 small rutabaga
1 medium peeled red onion
1 cup chopped kale
1/4 cup olive oil
2/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper

Preheat oven 425 degrees. Cut veggies into 1/2 inch pieces. Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Spread on cookie sheet. Bake 15 minutes, toss, bake another 15 minutes. Return to bowl. Stir in kale, cover, let sit 5 minutes. Serve.

Yum.

I've also been mixing teeny pieces of Italian Kale in my green salads. Tolerable.

Another person told me about kale chips so I tried them. Yuck. I was surprised they turned into crispy chips rather than soggy green, but they still tasted like kale and all alone not mixed with anything that's too much kale-ness for me!

Giving Thanks

The Thanksgiving holiday is a time to be grateful for what you have. We often tend to concentrate on the negative and take for granted the positive. Things I am thankful for:

My health, that keeps me mobile, cognitive, happy, and alive.

My wonderfully safe and bizarrely decorated house, that keeps me sheltered, entertained, and healthy.

My garden, that produces beautiful flowers, organic foods and serenity.

My van, that runs so well and has so many uses.

My fragrance-free friends, that keep me sane and entertained.

My income, that keeps me stress-free.

My computer, that provides income, entertainment, and a social life.

What else?

My annual rituals for this holiday are making my Christmas wreath and watching White Christmas. My unplanned rituals are eating something I shouldn't and being lazy.

Life is good.

What makes you give thanks?

Dental Dangers

Dentist offices can be hazardous to the health of a chemically-sensitive person. Prior to making the appointment, call and interview the receptionist to find out office protocol and safety. Be very clear about your fragrance-free and chemical-free needs. Don't take anything for granted and assume the receptionist and staff are clueless until they prove otherwise. Here are some potential office toxins and questions to ask before you make your first appointment:

Do staff members wear perfumes, colognes, scented hand lotions or other toxic products? Some dental offices have fragrance-free standards because being scent-free is a medical protocol, but some are managed as if it's still the 1960s. If they indicate they don't have a clue, don't waste your time trying to educate them.

Does the office use air fresheners in any capacity? Plug-in type or aerosol? I knew of one dental hygienist who sprayed her chair after each patient because she didn't want a patient's body odor offending others. It's a high stress area so people sweat!

Appointments: What day is the slowest with the least amount of patients? What time of day is the slowest? They can't help it if their patients stink so it's best to avoid them if possible. I have found a mid-week, first appointment of the day to be the best, however, be aware of commuter traffic issues and automobile exhaust air pollution.

How do they sterilize their equipment? Do they use chemicals, steam under pressure (autoclaving), or dry heat? What about disinfectants? At what time during the day do they do this? Most often this is done at the end of the day so make your appointment accordingly.

Are scented, latex gloves used? Do they have unscented and/or non-latex options available? Any other secretly scented supplies?

What is required: examination, cleaning, and/or x-rays? Most offices will require an exam and x-ray with every annual appointment. Do you want to be radiated that often? Thyroid cancer is on the rise and the causation theory is dental x-rays. Chemicals can zap our thyroids anyway - no need to help it along. The justification for requiring x-rays is liability, but enlightened dentists will allow their patients to sign waivers stating as the patient you have opted not to get x-rays unless there are obvious symptoms or problems that need a more a in-depth check. These offices will want copies of past x-rays so they have some information on your tooth structure and anatomy. If the office doesn't give you the option of a radiation-free visit, don't settle. Keep looking. In my opinion, it has less to do with liability than profits. There is a lot of money to be made requiring unnecessary x-rays and if insurance is willing to pay, why not make it a requirement?

After each patient use, do they wash off the lead protective coverings that shield your thyroid from x-ray radiation? Be aware of perfume residue left from the previous patient.

With cleaning comes scented and flavored polish. Is polish required? This may be included in the cleaning cost or an added expense so by opting out, you could save some money. In addition, some offices have the option of flavorless and scent-free pumice. I've never had a dental office require polish, but they usually argue with me when I refuse it as if it's the best part of the whole appointment. Not sure why.

Do they use mercury for amalgam material? Do they remove mercury amalgams? What are their safety protocols? If you opt to have amalgams removed, ask about the replacement material. Some composites made with plastics can be just as problematic.

 

Make sure your questions are answered and your needs are clear BEFORE your appointment so you are not liable if something goes wrong. If you go in, have a reaction and have to leave, a lot of offices will charge you for the last minute cancellation.

These are the basics, but other poisonous substances may be lurking anywhere unbeknown to the MCSer until it's too late. For instance, magazines in the waiting room will often have perfume-scented inserts. Bring your own reading material and sit in the far corner.

 

I didn't go to a dentist for eight years and finally found one that was fragrance-free. It was a long, hard search for one so enlightened. They were fine with no polish, but they required x-rays every other visit. So I continued my search and found one who was fragrance-free AND didn't require x-rays! Health-minded dentists are rare, but do exist. Someday they will be the norm rather than the exception.

What are your experiences? Did I miss anything?

Torture

Digging...

My baby boy has been gone now for a week. I wander the yard daily looking for clues to his disappearance. Was he attacked and hauled away by a vicious eagle? If so, there would be fur as I know he would have put up a fight. Or body parts if he was eaten. I can't imagine anything but an eagle could have lifted his fat body so it would have had to have eaten him on the spot. I've checked for holes in the dirt or holes in fence. Did he somehow escape? No sign of him.

I have dreams about him every night and spend my days feeling some kind of weird survivor guilt. Why couldn't I have protected him better? Should I have jailed him in his hutch?

Digging...

At the same time I feel lucky to have had him in my life these many years and I'm sure he appreciated being free to hop around the yard and sample the wonderful plants rather than being confined to the sterile life of a hutch.

I finally came to terms with his disappearance: removing his dishes, cleaning his toilet area, removing the chicken wire from the gardens, and closing the gate between the front and back yards. Some items like his bed, his food, and his herbs I've kept, just in case. I haven't given up hope yet. Everyday I look out the windows of my house expecting him to be back...from vacation, well-rested and eager to get back to his gardening duties.

Today I headed to the front yard and...there is a hole under the gate!!

The hole was dug from the front yard. Whatever it was couldn't climb the gate. A raccoon, opossum, or cat would have climbed the fence rather than worked so hard at digging.

It's the same size as a fat rabbit. Was it looking for food? Peter's food was kept in the backyard.

Motivated by new hope, I inspected both yards searching for holes in the ground or holes in the fence. Did he really just go on vacation? I whispered his name here and there waiting for him to jump out. Still no sign of him.

I'm not sure if I'm crazy or if Peter's ghost is haunting the yard.

This is torture.

UPDATE: I filled the hole and the next morning it was dug again, only this time from the backyard to the front. Hmmmm...I don't think it's Peter. He's never been so mysterious. But I have no idea what kind of animal is digging holes instead of climbing or small enough to go through the fence.

Official MCS Cult Film Nomination

I just watched the movie Safe starring Julianne Moore and written and directed by Todd Haynes. It's a fictional Hollywood movie made in 1999 about a woman who becomes chemically sensitive. Naturally, I was curious. The CD jacket summary says it's "...a bold, darkly comic, completely original drama...feel free to laugh or scream." Darkly comic? Laugh? What am I missing? Is chemical sensitivity funny to people in Hollywood?

The main character, "Carol" played by Julianne Moore, is a suburban housewife living in the San Fernando valley in the late 1980s. She spends her days having lunch with friends, taking dancercise classes (remember those?), remodeling her house, running errands, and going to baby showers. One by one toxic exposures are introduced: new furniture, interior painting, pesticide spraying, dry cleaning pick up, freeway driving, and her husband is shown dousing himself with aerosol deodorant, hairspray, cologne and aftershave. Then she gets her hair permed.  She plunges into illness with coughing fits, rashes, respiratory failure, fatigue, brain fog, insomnia, and even has a seizure. Her doctor is realistically useless, her husband is an insensitive ass, and her friends look at her as if she's crazy.

Sounds fairly accurate, doesn't it? I think this movie would be fun to watch with other MCSers so we could all gasp, moan, and scream in shared horror, understanding and camaraderie. It has the potential to be a cult film. We would all yell DON'T DO IT in unison especially during the beauty parlor scene.  Maybe that's what is comic about it? If it wasn't for the outrageously horrible acting, bad scriptwriting, and lousy plot, I might have empathetically enjoyed watching all that suffering. I can say it's one of the worst films I've ever seen.

"Carol" ends up at a co-housing retreat for the chemically sensitive. It's a strange place that would have given me the willies, but as the movie viewer I'm hoping it'll be a safe place for her and she'd find some relief from the L.A. poisons. They have creepy group meetings where they are forced to listen to sermons given by the cult-like leader, they chant affirmations, and they are given odd rules regarding meals, but the place is not so restrictive that her visiting husband can't wear his cologne. Hmmm...Strangely enough she continues to be sick and even gets sicker the longer she's there. Although she's very passive and soft-spoken throughout the movie, she timidly voices her concern about the fumes around her cabin. Management's response is a bit of psycho-babble. Hmmm...why is the place so toxic?

Then the theme and underlying message presents itself. Near the end there is a scene where the incredibly irritating guru-type leader is outside with a small group of participants and he's addressing each one individually demanding to know, "How did YOU make YOURSELF sick?"

WHAT? WHAT did he say? I thought my hearing was off, but thankfully he repeats the question over and over again so the audience doesn't miss it.

"HOW DID YOU MAKE YOURSELF SICK?"

Almost all the patients had stories about past mental trauma which created a psychological reaction which manifested itself into their illness. They felt overwhelmingly guilty. They knew their illness was their fault. WHAT??? As the guru questioned each participant, I waited for someone to clarify that MCS is not a psychological condition.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Carol smiles sweetly and passes, refusing to answer. Finally, the last patient he asks gives him such a hostile look I'm thinking she'll be the one to set it all straight. The leader taunts her and demands she be honest with herself and the group.  She glares at him as if to say I'll give you honesty, ass-wipe! and through gritted teeth she yells she wants to get a gun and kill everyone who made her sick. HOORAY! Now I can relate to her perspective! Unfortunately, this character is only being used to show how very mentally disturbed MCSers can be and she is told she is not being honest with herself and until she is, she will continue to be ill. The ass-wipe sarcastically and condescendingly laughs as he shakes his head and explains to the group she has a lot of work to do. I don't know why she stays. I would have walked out. I was absolutely livid.

This ending explains the movie's opening scene with poor Carol bored to tears while having sex with her husband. It's an aerial view so you can see the look on her face which clearly screams, "I can't wait to get this over with!" Sex is something that is insufferable - a marital duty. Throughout the whole movie I was wondering what was the purpose of that scene? It seemed so out of place until the psycho-group scene which makes a very clear statement: we are all just nut cases creating this illness to deal with our boring lives.

By the end of the movie, even in this so-called safe environment, Carol's health has declined to the point where she is practically unrecognizable. I guess she still hasn't accepted she caused her illness and it's going to kill her. In the last scene we find her staring at the mirror in her porcelain-lined, sterile cabin saying to herself repeatedly, "I love you." She has caved and accepted she is the cause. Not the chemicals. Not the poisons. She is the cause of her illness. Now THAT is kind of laughable, but I really don't think it was supposed to be. Or maybe it was and I just don't find it funny?

I am shocked someone admitted to watching this movie for research let alone suggested I see it as if it is an accurate portrayal of chemical sensitivity. It was so poorly done. I was very surprised Hollywood would make a feature film on MCS, but unfortunately it fails in every way. I think the AMA or some chemical company produced it. Siskel & Ebert gave it two thumbs up. Really? I have lost all respect for Siskel & Ebert.

How did YOU make YOURSELF sick?

Easy answer: I watched this movie.

M.I.A.

PETER RABBIT

LAST SEEN 11/17/13

 

 

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BUNNY?

 

 

Sunday night I gave him a carrot treat and he hopped away dragging it behind him. Monday I didn't see him all day, but I didn't think anything of it until the afternoon when I noticed there was a lot of food still in his dish. Usually by afternoon it's nearly gone. When I went out at dusk to get his bowl, not only did I notice there was a lot of food left, but it hadn't even been touched since I put it in the bowl that morning. I looked the yard over and no sign of him. I decided I'd wait until morning light to do a thorough check.

 

At first light I checked again and this time went to all his normal hiding places and lounging spots. Under boards, bushes, trees, and porches, on decks and behind sheds. No sign of him. I left the camellia bush for last and with much trepidation, parted the branches and looked into his sawdust-covered "cave" (it's really a large plant pot on its side with a rain-proof covering over it). I though for sure I'd find him curled up as if sleeping, but dead.

 

When I didn't find him dead, I was a little relieved until I started imagining the worst. Either an owl or eagle swooped down in the night and took him away to eat him alive (the worse case scenario), or in mid-flight dropped him (oh, I worry about this as he could be out wandering in the wild with injuries), or he's dead under the garden shed. I went for a walk down by the river which is next to the field outside my yard...just in case. No sign of him.

The garden shed is his other nighttime sleeping place. If he's dead under the garden shed I'll never see his body unless I demolish the building, but I might be able to smell it in a few days. If indeed he is dead, I do hope I get some kind of proof or I'll be tormented for a long time. He has disappeared before, but not for this long and never without eating on the sly. I haven't started crying yet. I keep looking outside just in case he appears, hopping cheerfully across the yard and doing a binky or two.

 

The garden feels very quiet...sigh.

 



Clam Digging

I only look annoyed because
I haven't caught any clams yet.

It wasn't difficult for my friend to talk me into a clamming license this year, even though I only used last year's license twice. Last year was butter clams and I have to say, although it was a new and exciting thing to do, not nearly as fun and exciting as digging for razor clams! Razor clams run! Or rather, attempt to dig themselves to safety so there is much more challenge and skill involved.

I haven't gone razor clam digging since I was very young. My grandmother was incredibly fast, strong and skilled at clam digging much more so than my grandfather so I have fond memories of gender pride. We used to help by identifying the "shows" so they knew where to dig, but we were too small to dig fast enough to catch one.

My friend has a clam "gun." It's not really a gun, but a tube that digs into the sand and can pull up massive amounts of sand out of a hole, hopefully along with the clam. So fun. There is a technique to it that I mastered in no time, but hauling wet sand out of a hole is exhausting. We've gone twice and both times shared his clam gun which gives my shoulders, knees and back a break. It takes some practice to get strong.

The first time I didn't even get my limit so I gave them all to my friend. The second time I didn't either, and he gave all his to me. My friend taught me how to clean them. I didn't like this part. It's like murdering small, helpless animals, even though they don't have eyes and sweet expressions. But they sure taste good! I hadn't eaten clams for years! Sorry to say, they aren't on the Hashimoto's diet as shellfish are considered toxic, but it's part of the local culture so I'm cheating. And these are as fresh as you can get rather than canned.

 

Today I bought my own clam gun! I'm so proud. I feel "official." Other tools and supplies are: clam digging license, bucket or clam net for carrying the catch, flashlight, headlight or lantern, really warm clothes and lots of layers, rain gear, gloves for warmth and plastic gloves to keep your hands dry, and water-proof boots.

Clamming equipment (left to right): lantern, bucket, net, license,
clam gun, gloves, rubber boots

This time of the year it can be very cold and wet so it pays to stay warm and dry. Low tide is often right at dusk and the best digging is after dark. When clam season opened a few weeks ago, I had never seen so many people on the beach at one time.

The first time we went I didn't have boots as my old ones were worn and no longer water proof. No boots means you don't have the luxury of wading in ice cold water and you constantly having to be aware of the waves unless you want to be soaked and freezing. This was a pain and made me not only ineffective, but not even helpful. Before the second dig, I bought some cheap boots at the local hardware store, but they were made with PVC so as soon as I got them in the car I couldn't breathe. I know PVC is deadly, but I figured I would get them home fast and let them offgas on the porch. I didn't even get out of the parking lot before I turned around and I returned them immediately all the while gasping for air. I know better! I got online and found 100% rubber boots at Cabela's, the store for all things outdoorsy or what I like to call the hunter's vortex complete with dead animal displays. Most of their products are made in the USA so I was very happy to spend twice as much for these boots in comparison to the cheap, toxic, Chinese-made boots. Good boots make all the difference and last twice as long. These boots still need to offgas out on the porch, but rubber isn't nearly as toxic as the PVC.

Third time, I went alone. I looked forward to it all week so when the rain started pouring and the wind blowing, did that stop me? No way! The great thing about bad weather is there aren't as many people. I finally got my limit of 15 and did it all before it got dark! Then this really cute Fish and Wildlife Officer pulled up beside me when I was walking back and asked how I did. He didn't want to count my clams, but I would have gladly showed them off. As we were talking I kept thinking, Oh Lord, I hope I counted right because if he counts and I'm over, I might be going to jail!"

Most of them nice and big, but the first couple I butchered
until I got the hang of it.

 

Ocean activities even during the cold of winter are not only invigorating, but also good for the respiratory tract. Any breathing difficulty or sinus congestion is quickly remedied with a good, clean ocean air activity. I look forward to these trips. I can breathe!



So fun! Excellent fragrance-free entertainment.

Crawling Through Space, or Construction Karma, Part 5,201

You can't imagine how much it irritates me that I'm still working on getting my crawlspace fixed and sealed. At the onset of fall I discovered my heating system was making me miserably ill. I called too many heating specialists only to be told by most their area didn't include the edge of civilization. I finally found one who arrived with the goal of selling me a brand new very expensive heating system. I thought I hired him for an inspection. Since my heating system works, there are no rebates and I can't even justify so much expense. I was also told because of the type of furnace and ducts, I can't even get it cleaned. I found a duct sealing person to check the ducts and offer a quote. At that time he also suggested he could clean and seal the crawlspace for me. It's been two months and I guess he changed his mind since he unprofessionally refuses to respond to my emails. This is typical behavior at the edge of civilization.

I called and emailed another ten companies who advertise crawlspace work, but none of them would come to the edge of civilization, so I did what needed to be done and crawled under my house in an attempt to do it myself. Through rat shit, opossum shit, fiberglass insulation, dirt, dust, and spider webs, I took a ShopVac cleaner and vacuumed as much as I could. Unfortunately the ShopVac was too large to go too far as it wouldn't fit under the heat ducts. I used spray foam to seal the holes found between the cement skirt and the house. When I wasn't swearing or screaming, I was crying out of frustration. I completed one quarter of the crawlspace before I gave up. It took me about three hours. My knees were bruised and my lungs were a mess, but this gave me a very realistic idea of what this work entails.

So I lowered my standards and went shopping for a construction worker in the Rathole area. I had no confidence, but I also had no choice unless I wanted to repeat my crawlspace experience. I hired a guy everyone has told me not to hire as he's incompetent, slow, and for every mistake he'll make he'll not only charge you for the time to figure it out, but charge you for all the extra supplies he must replace. Word travels fast in a small community. What was I thinking? I was obviously desperate. A couple people told me he might do well with a very simple project. It's dirty and time-consuming, but it doesn't take a lot of mental ability. I figured if I could do it, anyone could.

He shows up with two teenagers who will be his assistants and expects I will pay all three of them. I assume it will take one third the time. He refused to get under the house. He spends the first two hours arguing with them as they try to explain what it looks like. He offers a couple of substandard ideas on how to get the work done which I reject and we finally come up with a solution. He kept repeating the better solution will take more time and cost me more. He gives me a price $300 to seal the whole crawlspace (the cleaning part was ignored!). I'm fine with that as he doesn't realize I was willing to pay three times that amount to get it done right. He's also offering some elaborate construction plan to block the openings on the west side of the house - this is where Santy Claws front door was located last Christmas. OK! I'm still not confident he knows what he's doing, but it sounds like a good plan. I intend to watch every step they make.

As the project starts, he continues to argue with the teenagers. They seem to know more about construction than he does, but he wants to appear to be the boss. His job is to cut the wood to the dimensions they request. The rest of the time he stands around. Every piece of wood he handles he either cuts it wrong or forgets to cut it, the kids drag it under the house and THEN realize it's wrong, drag it back, it all starts over. Such wasted time. His management of the teenagers is pathetic. Every time he drops something it takes him an eternity to pick it up. Is he just old or is he purposely trying to waste my time? The dollars are flying out of my pocket. So tired of watching everyone stand around arguing, I got under the house and looked at what they were doing. Yeah, they are adding wood to block the open space, but there are still holes big enough for rodents to get in. Eventually I decide it's bad enough watching him stand around, but when the teenagers start standing around, I take over management and tell them exactly what I want done. They complete about 15 feet of crawlspace wall to my specifications. I fire them only I do it so nicely he doesn't realize I just want him off my property. He charges me $253 for 15 feet and exclaims, "See, we came in under the quote!" My mouth dropped open and I replied, "Three hundred dollars was for the WHOLE crawlspace, not just 15 feet." Good riddance.

So I get back in the saddle and call a few other Rathole construction workers, names I've not heard of. If I haven't heard of them, that is a good sign. Many don't even return my call. One shows up, a new roofing company in town with a claim they do any kind of construction. When the owner arrives I recognize him. He has changed his company name probably because of all the problems he had in the past and his bad reputation for being incompetent. I try to tell him almost half of the crawlspace is done, but he says it'll still take two men and six hours to do the job. He quotes $600. He also refuses to get under the house to actually look at what needs to be done. I tell him, "Oh, that's a really good price - for ROOFING. This is a crawlspace." He comes back with $400. I tell him I'll call him. As always, I stress about the two men who will show up at my house. Will they stink? Will they smoke? Will I need to tell them to leave? Too much stress and worry.


I give up. I'm out of construction workers to call. I buy more spray foam, don my home-made biohazard outfit, and crawl back under the house to do the remaining half. This time I made sure not to remove the mask until I was well away from the crawlspace and had removed the dirty biohazard jumpsuit. No lung issues this time. I'm learning, BUT I don't want to learn! I don't want to do it at all! I see all the holes the teenagers missed AND I finally see where the heating ducts have detached from the furnace. I push them back into place. You'd think with all the people I've had under the house, someone could have pointed that out. It only took me one hour to get the rest of the crawlspace sealed. My whole body hurts, but I saved myself $400. Priceless.

The crawlspace is done to the best of my ability, I know nothing was dishonestly left undone, and I didn't have to deal with the stress of incompetent people.

I bought a new infrared space heater that's heating my house just fine. Hooray!

Now I'm worried about the two puddles of water under the house...where did they come from?

This house is a never-ending money pit. Can I move now?

'Shrooms

Today I went mushroom hunting...in my backyard! I've never seen so many kinds of mushrooms. It must be exceptionally wet this year.

 

I see this one every year. They grow huge.

 

Every year mushroom buyers show up about this time, set up a little tent in the parking lot of a grocery store, wait for mushroom hunters to bring what they found, and pay them. I have no idea how much. If I see a buyer I might take some samples and see what I have.

 

One year I went mushroom hunting with a friend who has some property out in the country nearby. Some of the mushrooms she knew and had names for, but most we just stared at dumbfounded. I checked out some books from the library but it was a bit overwhelming as there are thousands of species. I think it would be fun to be a mushroom expert. As it is, I know nothing and don't plan to taste-test any of them. I don't have a death wish.

Everybody's Got Somebody But Me (Hunter Hayes with Jason Mraz)

Hunter Hayes has to be the cutest kid I've ever seen, besides he's teamed up with my idol, Jason Mraz. I can't find the video yet so you'll have to do with this link:

http://www.cmt.com/videos/hunter-hayes/968635/everybodys-got-somebody-but-me-featuring-jason-mraz.jhtml

Home Bound from Snowflake

After assessing all my discombobulation, I decided I needed some distance from it so I took off, heading home, planning to get to Flagstaff while thinking on route and knowing if I decided I needed to stay longer I could always turn around and head back to Snowflake.

“Standin’ On the Corner in Winslow, Arizona”

Winslow was on the way to Flagstaff and this town was exactly how I had hoped Snowflake would be! It has a real main street with an historic downtown. The neighborhood houses look like the historic districts of Phoenix with eclectic little houses in various styles. 

At the main intersection on the street is a huge Route 66 logo and on one of the corners is a statue of a guitar player standing on the corner to commemorate the Eagle’s song “Take It Easy.” I’ve looked forward to seeing this roadside attraction the whole trip having read about it in a book.

 

 

 

 

It didn't disappoint! I also took a walk in the historic La Posada Hotel built in the 1930s. Beautiful. The art collection was wonderful. Although I really liked the town, outside the historic main street the place feels depressed with lots of closed businesses and rundown buildings.

Starvation

Unable to get much in the way of food in Snowflake might have contributed to my overwhelming desire to leave (besides my introverted need to turn off all the people). Next stop was Flagstaff where I looked for New Frontiers Food, a health food grocery store much like Nature’s Oasis in Durango and Whole Foods although both are much better than Whole Foods. I definitely overdid it, buying all kinds of bad things, and one big salad! They had gluten-free pumpkin pie!!!! I couldn’t help myself and felt so much better after gorging.

The Vortex

My sinuses cleared outside of Flagstaff and I took this as a sign. Instead of west, I headed south to Sedona and Prescott via 89A. Beautiful. The 200 foot ponderosa pines were gorgeous and it was so nice to see more green and shade. The pine smell was lovely and the twisty/turny drive down the mountain was scenic.

On the road between Snowflake and Sedona I had time to think. I can still turn around and go back to Snowflake, rent the house in the middle of nothing and have myself an adventure. Now that I’ve stepped back from Snowflake and escaped to a greener and slightly less dusty environment, there is something depressing about Snowflake with the desolated landscape filled with sick people. Maybe that’s what’s bothering me? All these people seem much more sensitive than me and most have EMF sensitivities. The insides of their houses are lined with tin foil and most have all metal furniture. It feels very institutional. It looks ugly. Living like that would be a constant reminder of illness and substandard health. I could take that twenty acres and make it beautiful. It would be a wonderful challenge, but once the challenge is over could I survive in such a soul-sucking atmosphere? Would my own self-created beauty be satisfying enough?

More importantly, do I really want those people showing up at my house unannounced like they do at the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house?  I think she is extroverted and has encouraged that, but I’m an introvert. I don’t want constant guests even if I need people like me in my life. I want visitors on my terms. I could set boundaries, but I fear that would alienate people and I wouldn't want to do that. Still, those people are MY PEOPLE. It would be so nice to be surrounded by people who get me. Or maybe I just need lots of land lacking in toxic neighbors in a beautiful area and I’ll be great. The problem is how to afford that without going into major debt. Twenty acres for $25K is too tempting to write off so quickly…hmmm…

The vortex is not what it once was. Fifteen years ago I remember Sedona as a tiny little town with a few health food stores, a few more new age shops and that’s it. It’s suffering greatly from urban sprawl and it is now a gigantic tourist attraction. I stopped to get information on camping then headed to Prescott. This took me down, down, down into the valley where the landscape changed back to desert and the temperatures rose from 59 to 75. I took one look at the desert landscape and realized I had had enough of desert. I changed my mind, did a fast u-turn, and headed back up to the forest area.

 

I selected a free campsite up above the valley in the ponderosa pine area called 535 which is an unmarked road to the left. There is another free camp area called 237 which was to the right further up the highway. I didn’t want to drive in too far and most of the sites at 237 were right next to the highway so I went back to 535. I really wanted to camp at the Cave Springs camping, but the fee was 18.00 and the store closed at 4pm where you could buy a shower token for $4. It was past 4pm when I went back. More importantly, I was worried I’d spend all that money and be surrounded by a forest fire of campfires. I value my lungs. So I’m up at freebie camping, all alone in the woods. It is much warmer here than Snowflake at about 50 degrees, and I don’t think there are any car-eating rats around. All night cars and trucks were driving up this dusty dirt road, even at 5am. It’s Friday night. I wonder if it’s kids having a party? The dust did a number on my sinuses. I don’t like dust.

California

Left early around 6:30am. In Flagstaff the highway was white with ice and the temperature read 23 degrees. It wasn’t nearly that cold at the campgrounds. An exit sign outside the city read “Devil Dog Road”. HA! That road has history!



 

The scenery along I-40 was desert and desolate. Blah...blah...blah. Kingman was 70 degrees. I was planning to camp just north of Barstow but the town was like an urban ghetto: lots of rundown buildings, degenerate-looking men and homeless women with filled shopping carts wandering the streets. I was uncomfortable stopping for groceries, although I didn't see any grocery stores. There was no way I'd camp there even in the vicinity. It didn't feel safe.

I knew passing up my planned camping spot meant a long day of driving. I considered twice turning right and going up the east side of California. I regret not doing that. For some reason I thought California would be lush and green. I was wrong. Dropping into the valley at Bakersfield was horrible. The smog was so thick I couldn’t see anything. This is just like Los Angeles and I'm pretty sure the air was blown up from L.A. Lots of agriculture along the highway but viewing it through brown-gray haze was anything but appetizing. Lungs were heavy but not nearly as bad as it was in Boise which leads me to believe the haze was smog rather than agricultural poisons. I was determined to keep driving and not stop until the sky cleared.

I headed north on I-99 hoping to reach my friend’s house in Chico. The roads in California, even the highways, are in such bad shape with pot holes and patchwork, but the California drivers drive them like a race track. Everyone is going at least 10 miles over the speed limit. Lots of traffic, too, even for a Saturday afternoon. 

The smog stopped around Modesto and my body stopped just north of Stockton. My right leg started cramping up from all the sitting and driving. It got dark really fast and I needed a place to stay. There were two RV resorts at one exit and I impulsively pulled off. One didn’t take tents and the woman told me to go to the other just on the other side of the freeway. I was disappointed they were both next to the freeway. But I couldn’t find the other one! After driving up and down the road, I finally figured it was actually about five miles down the road. (Idiot woman!) Very expensive, $38 with a discount, but showers, laundry and wi-fi were included. Most importantly hardly anyone was in the tent camping area so I was isolated from campfires. It was very quiet and the temperature was much warmer at around 58 degrees all night. It was wonderful to be warm!

Woke early, took a gloriously long, hot shower (first one in a week!) and left around 7:30am.

 

Drove state highway 12 to Mendocino through Napa, Sonoma, Petaluma, and Fort Bragg. Beautiful towns with gorgeous vineyards as far as the eye could see, but the road was really horrible. Mendocino is my friend Urfa's home town. She visits it a lot and talks about it all the time. I've always wanted to see it so I can picture it when she tells me things. Mendocino is gorgeous!!! Right on the ocean. Very artsy, hippy-ish and expensive. I wish I could live there. It’s depressing not having the finances to live where I want. The twisty/turny forested roads in and out of Mendocino were stunning along with the ocean views, but they were very time consuming so I didn’t get as far as I would have liked for the day.

Going north up the coast I got off Hwy 101 and took the scenic Avenue of the Giants with the enormous redwood trees on each side. Who would ever think a tree could get so large?

At one point I checked out one of the Humboldt State Park campgrounds: overpriced at $35! The ranger was rude and unaccommodating so I left.

 

I raced down highway 101 trying to get to my free campground before dark, but didn't make it. I had no idea where it was so I found a campground on route at Big Lagoon State Park just south of Crescent City for $20. I’m in the trees next to the beach and I can hear the waves roar, but it’s dark so I can’t see a thing. Love it. It’s off-season so hardly anyone is here, but if it were during the summer I’m pretty sure all these closely situated sites would be filled and the campfire smoke would be unbearable.



Entrance to my campsite from beach

 

Between yesterday and today my patience is running thin. I’m irritable and snappish. California does that to a person. I think I’m tired and eager to be home. OR maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten any rice in a week? I feel like I'm starving all the time. It must be the lack of rice.

Woke early after a great night's sleep and hit the highway for home. I came upon a warning sign "Elk Crossing". Yeah, how many of these did I see in Colorado? This one didn't faze me until I dipped down into the valley and came upon a whole herd of elk all over the road and surrounding landscape. There must have been two hundred of these huge monsters unfazed by my van. I was tempted to stop and take a photo, but I didn't know if they might view my van as a threat and those antlers didn't look safe. I didn't want to end my vacation being maimed by elk.

Drove up the northern California coast and into Oregon looking at Crescent City, Cave Junction and Grants Pass, all places people have suggested I might like. I really loved the dense green landscape. The best town was Grants Pass. At 34,000 it's more like a city, but it has a quaint feel about it. The air smelled really clean. They have a good health food grocery store called Gooseberries and a little section in the historic part of town for other businesses catering to the healthy minded. I really liked it. Stopped a few times to check real estate prices. Nothing compares to Snowflake's cheapness and of course, everyone tells me construction loans are nearly impossible. This is always discouraging and I hear it too often.

Arrived home around 8pm after a scary drive in the dark on Suicide Highway. I survived! So did the van! It's nice to be home.

Sinuses cleared in northern California and stayed that way all the way home. I really hoped a higher elevation would cure me of all discomforts, but it seems it really made no difference. The dust and dryness at higher elevations was a problem. I anticipated walking into my house and having a respiratory reaction or smelling something bad from being away from it, but nothing. The house was freezing cold with no heat, but other than that, I was fine. I'm happy my house is safe for me. And then I went out to visit Peter and give him a good massage. He missed me. With rabbit fur flying, my sinuses congested and throat started itching. After all that driving to find a safer home, Peter is the cause of all my discomfort. I guess I kind of knew that already. I love him, but he is a pain in my ass on so many levels.

For my next house-searching road trip, I plan to scout eastern Oregon.

Still contemplating Snowflake...maybe I'll drive down again in the spring when everything is in bloom.

I'm in Snowflake!

Snowflake desert with EI housing

I got to Snowflake around noon and drove up and down Main Street looking at the businesses and neighborhoods. It doesn’t really have a town center and Main Street is more like a big strip mall. I was disappointed. I expected more from the Mormon founders. I found the health food store and ate lunch. It’s very small, with lots of supplements, but lacking in my favorite foods. All the meat was frozen. Lunch tasted moldy. I can’t imagine getting my weekly groceries there. I checked out the supermarket which had no gluten-free products, although it had an awesome bakery. During pre-MCS days I would have spent a lot of money there, but it’s virtually useless to me now.

I drove to Show Low which also has a very small health store. There is a Safeway, but I don’t shop at Safeway as it's one of the worst corporations on the planet only second to Monsanto. I worry about lack of food. Currently I drive 1 ½ hours for organic food and it’s getting old. I’m not interested in moving somewhere which requires the same.

I checked out some hotels. The Silver Creek Inn  in Taylor creeped me out. The room was so small and it had a musty smell. The Holiday Inn Express in Show Low was absolutely beautiful and the reception woman was outstanding and accommodating, but the room smelled like "new" chemicals. I'd suffocate by morning. The Heritage Bed and Breakfast in Snowflake was also beautiful and smelled nontoxic, but I worried about privacy and being in too close proximity to other guests. Each room has its own bathroom and television and wi-fi is available. This was a reality check. All along I was assuming I'd be able to stay in a hotel if I absolutely had to and now I finally realized it's not even an option. I felt really vulnerable.

At this point I realized I needed a contact. Not knowing anyone makes moving long distance very difficult. I had planned to meet with the real estate agent tomorrow, but I needed a personal connection, one that wasn’t trying to sell me something. I had been in touch with a woman who was currently building in Snowflake. She was incredibly inspirational, sending me photos of her property and house construction at various steps and telling me she would introduce me to others when I visited. I felt we did some online bonding, but when I emailed to tell her I was leaving for Snowflake, her response was, “Have a nice trip.” I wondered if I was reading too much into such a terse response, yet she offered no way to contact her when I arrived. I figured I’d email her when I arrived, but I knew wi-fi would be lacking. I felt as if she just blew me off.

 

So here I am in Snowflake, realizing I need help connecting to the town through humans. There was another woman who I emailed and phoned a few months ago.  She had volunteered her driveway, but I knew she just had a guest who left same day I arrived and she had been at a conference in Phoenix. I assumed with so much humanity overload, she would be exhausted and not want another guest so soon. I know I'd feel that way. I emailed her before I left for Snowflake and she told me to call when I arrived.  So I did. Her response was, “Do you like rice noodles?” I was a little taken back, but replied I wasn’t sure as I never had them. She said, “Come on over and we’ll feed you!”

The Incredibly Generous Woman

The Incredibly Generous Woman is the acting “leader” of the MCS community although I’m pretty sure she’d laugh at that label. I believe she is the one who has single-handedly created and developed this community through her personal outreach and constant hospitality. She invites chemically-sensitive strangers to stay at her house while she connects them to resources and helps them meet others. I asked her at one point if it gets to be too much or if she has boundaries and she said she screens people. If they indicate at all they need her to take care of them, she shuts it down. She has no desire to care for anyone so people need to be self-sufficient or if unable to care for themselves, they need to bring a caretaker when they come. She wasn't shy about stating her needs and rules for visitors.

When I arrived, she had several people at her house with more arriving as we sat and talked. One is a filmmaker doing a documentary on chemically sensitive people. It was wonderful to sit in the living room and talk to other MCSers. They get me and I understand exactly the experiences they describe. The discussion ranged from hearing sensitivity to the non-support of spouses to how many of them came to move to Snowflake. At one point I expressed gratitude for the social experience explaining in eight years I’ve lived in my house I have never had this many people over at the same time. In fact, I don’t think that many people have visited me TOTAL. This is what the Incredibly Generous Woman does. She brings people together and makes them feel comfortable and welcome. She is the glue to this community and their centralizing force. Oddly enough, we both majored in art history in college! I love the way she giggles all the time. She strikes me as a very happy, well-adjusted MCSer. The group discussed the rats that infiltrate the cars, living on top of the engine for protection and warmth and eating the fuel lines. Good God.

Snowflake
Temperature Range: 55/26 (brrrr...)
Elevation: 5,579
Population: 5,564 (2012)

My first impressions of Snowflake: I have no problem with the landscape, I LOVE the overwhelming silence, the houses seem well-built and rather cute for being all metal and the MCSers I met are friendly, helpful, and supportive. I still haven’t figured out the logistics of finding a place to rent first and I am determined to do just that before making a commitment. I have no idea if I will have serious reactions to sage, juniper, and the grass that covers the desert here. I don’t want to make such a serious mistake that I find myself miserable and transient. Many of these people claimed they took a leap of faith and purchased real estate as they didn’t have a choice being so sick. Some did not tolerate the Snowflake environment and left while others stayed. Most of them seem to be sensitive to EMFs which is a real issue anywhere else with the radio towers and frequencies. Some have had bad reactions to the tin foil that is used to seal the houses from the EMFs. I am not sensitive to EMFs…yet.

 

Camping in my van in the Incredibly Generous Woman's driveway was...cold. No. Freezing. The temperature was nearly the same as Durango so I couldn't figure out why I couldn't warm up. I laid shivering for too long even dressed in multiple layers of wool. Finally I remembered I brought my below-freezing sleeping bag. I've never really liked it because it's polyester and the feel of polyester makes my skin crawl, but its purpose is to keep you warm in freezing weather and that's exactly what I was desperately needing. I removed it from it's storage bag. It was cold. I wasn't hopeful. As soon as I slid into it within seconds I was warm. Wow! So glad I didn't sell it in that last yard sale!

Day Six: Movie Stardom

It’s very odd to have a filmmaker with a huge camera follow you around and listen to your conversation. The Filmmaker is doing a documentary on MCS featuring people and is in Snowflake to film the Incredibly Generous Woman. He is here off and on filming her and others so this wasn’t his first visit. When he asked if it was OK to film me I said sure because I think contributing to public awareness is important, however, all night I kept thinking I don’t want to be in a movie talking about personal stuff!  I could imagine my relatives and neighbors watching me on the big screen as I talk about how much I hate them and their ignorance. But when morning came, the sun was shining, I marched right into the house without thinking and...ignored him. Keep in mind I hadn't had a shower or washed my hair for almost a week. I definitely was NOT thinking. I deserve an Academy Award for pretending I wasn’t freaked out knowing the camera was capturing every mundane word out of my mouth. Then I had to fight to appear natural when the words coming out of my mouth felt like I was reading from a script as I carefully censored what I might say. AND THEN I kept wishing the Filmmaker would stop filming so he could participate in the conversation. I felt it was rude to exclude him and he was exceptionally articulate and thoughtful so I valued his insights. Later he said it was fine to talk to him while he's filming. He's just gathering footage he will edit later. He asked me to tell him about my van camping system so on film for the world to see I explained my pee bucket. Jeez...definitely not thinking!

New construction next door

 

Kitchen (white section) is separate from house.
In between will be the entrance and shower room for decontamination.

Little white house is spouse's "play house" for toxic office equipment
or arts/crafts projects.

We spent the morning walking through the desert, talking and filming. The Incredibly Generous Woman pointed to the neighbors, explained desert floral and fauna, and discussed chemical sensitivity. She showed me the neighbors who are building a new house. It's the same color as my van so I loved it immediately. A construction worker was laying the ceramic tiles for the bathroom. Beautiful. Yep, I could live here.

 

Neighbor to the east.

 

Incredibly Generous Woman's house. See the second car with the hood up?
That's to discourage the rats from moving into the engine. Eewww!

I shared my eco-village vision and we discussed building codes and construction rules. I dug some of the dirt to do a soil sample, but it was all rock and sand. I couldn’t get down further than maybe six inches. Hmmm…I probably wouldn’t even have to have a rock foundation for my cob house here, but I would need to figure out the drainage as the water tends to sit right on top of the sand. I used the topsoil for the sample. It's all sand, of course, and it looks like chocolate milk. I was told it's useless to weed unless it's monsoon season. Yep. I tried pulling up some grass. It doesn't want to move. All morning the Incredibly Generous Woman kept talking about connecting me with others so I was hopeful I’d get to meet more people, see more houses, and get more information.

The Worst Real Estate Experience of My Life

I met with the real estate agent in the afternoon. I had a bad feeling about him. He was really nice, but didn’t really seem to understand what I wanted.  Or maybe he deals with too many people like me: idealistically arriving in Snowflake and then changing their minds as soon as reality hits. I'm sure wasting his time gets old. His office stunk. His truck stunk. We drove for miles on horribly maintained dirt roads. He, in his four-wheel half ton pick-up and me, in my non-four-wheeling van. Really? I’m not really sure why he thought that was feasible.

We looked at an EI house that is for sale. The owner is considering renting it. He wants $600 a month which seems really high for the size of house and the amenities. It's not like there is a view! Way out in the middle of no where on 40 acres (he’s only selling 20 acres). It’s very depressing and much more isolated than anything I’d imagine. But quiet. Really quiet. God, I love quiet.

 

For sale or rent.

It has propane to heat the water and the radiant flooring, solar energy for electricity, and water is delivered and stored in a 1,000 tank. The walls were covered in tin foil sheet rock. Incredibly ugly, but the agent said in another house the same owner built, he covered it with some kind of plaster and paint. The covered porch spans two sides of the house. Awesome porch. The agent pointed out the porch faces northeast and the winds and sun will come from the southwest. I could put Peter on the porch and screen the whole thing in, but I don’t know if Peter would like living on cement. I made a comment about needing to buy a gun for backcountry protection. The agent agreed explaining about the packs of feral dogs that roam the desert. Although I appreciate his honesty, he wasn't a very good salesman! Hmmm...I’d never sleep at night with Peter outside in a cage and packs of feral dogs milling about.

 

The front yard...40 acres...desert as far as one could see.

Unfortunately, the owner still had it filled with his belongings. I could smell something that was bothering me but I couldn't tell if it was from his stuff or the propane. I'm not sure the propane was even hooked up. I was a little disappointed no one thought to make it presentable to prospective buyers or renters. And they wonder why it's not selling.

We got back in our vehicles and four-wheeled it to the second site over ditches and washes, through sand, dirt and mud. It took at least an hour to get to the next property. I was totally lost and my sense of direction was befuddled. Several times his four-wheel vehicle would spin out, but most often he was miles ahead of me. It was scary and stressful. I worried I’d get stuck, destroy my shocks, or end up in a ditch. At one point he took a wrong turn and I had to back out of the bumpy dirt road for about 500 feet. He said “Don’t worry there are no ditches.” I replied, “In this van, every bump feels like a ditch.” He promised the next road was better. It wasn’t. It was worse.

I was swearing like a truck driver and in tears whole way. When I finally caught up to him at the property, I rolled my window down and without hesitation as calmly as possible said, “I need to get to the nearest road NOW. This is scary, stressful and unacceptable.”

He smiled and calmly said, “OK." Then pointed to the desert, "This is the property.”

I said with a glare and too much sarcasm, “Great." I was not impressed. That’s an understatement. I didn’t give a shit and I was angry. I wanted to get out of there.

Instead of taking me to the nearest road, off again we went four-wheeling to the next property. If I had any idea of where I was, I would have left him. This property was actually possible. Twenty acres with all utilities for $25,000. That price is unheard of in most places, but this is the desert.

However, I’m still not clear on the logistics of moving [Peter] and I’m determined to rent first. Construction loans are impossible so even if I purchased the land, it would be years before I could build anything on it. Without renting first, it could be a huge financial risk.

Needless to say, my head was pounding when it was over. My sinuses were a mess probably from the dust. The van was covered with dirt and sand. I opted not to see the last property. I just wanted to go HOME. My house in mold country was looking really good. At least the rats don’t live in your vehicle’s engine and eat the fuel lines! Scary!

I realized these last couple days I have expressed fear many times. Everything was scary.  I’m sure everyone thinks I’m strangely fearful. I never thought of myself as fearful, but I know I’m careful. Perhaps this is my subconscious telling me this isn’t right? Twenty acres for $25,000? Where in the hell would I ever find silence, solitude and that much land for so cheap?

I hesitated going back to the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house with my new-found negative attitude and hysteria, but I calmed down by the time I made it out of the desert. I spent the rest of the night deprocessing my stressful experience and trying to regain rationale so I could make better decisions. Again they talked and laughed about the rats that eat the fuel lines or how they steal items out of the compost, store them on the car's engine so when you heat up your car it smells like food. I don't think they realized how much this creeped me out. I'm not fond of rat wrangling.

 

All night the Incredibly Generous Woman kept asking me repeatedly if I want to meet others or if I wanted to see something. I kept saying “yes”, but she never contacted anyone. After spending the whole morning not doing much, I worried if I stayed another day if it would be another day of sitting around doing nothing. They all wanted me to stay for longer to get a better feel, but I kept telling them I have work to get back to and every day I’m gone, I’m losing money. I’m pretty sure most of them are on disability or not working. I felt like I was running out of time and time wasn’t being used efficiently. Then I found out she had an appointment the next morning and I didn’t want to be sitting around doing nothing for another morning waiting. Camping in freezing weather, hunger, car-eating rats, four-wheel driving stress, and lots of extroverted human contact made me want out of there. I absolutely HATE being dependent on people, but in a community of sick people, I couldn't very well head out and knock on people's doors. Frustrated, I planned to leave tomorrow morning early for California.

Sleep as Remedy for Discombobulation

I woke up early. Last night was not nearly as freezing as the night before. On the way out I should have turned right to Snowflake, instead at the last minute I turned left, back to the twenty acres. My head was clear, wasn’t pounding painfully, and I wasn’t in tears. I was thinking clearly and needed to revisit this property one more time rather than impetuously leaving at the first sign of discombobulation. I was pretty sure I could find it again.



 

 

 

Building site right in the middle of it all with septic and water already there.

The neighbors were burning a pile of something and the smoke filled the air. Obviously they were not chemically sensitive. The weird thing about the desert is sound and smell travel much farther than a place where there are trees, landscape and other buildings. While hiking through the desert getting dirt samples, I was on a hill maybe a field away from the Incredibly Generous Woman’s house. The Filmmaker was in her backyard. He could talk in a normal voice to me from that distance and we could hear each other plainly. It was amazing. If my requirements are I don’t want to hear or smell my neighbors, this might not be as good as it looks. I still worry about the plant allergies and Peter’s health and safety.

Still, I could raise goats on this land. They'd eat everything down. Then I could pave parts of it with stepping stones, use landscaping rocks and create a beautiful rock garden. I'd sit out in my rock sanctuary and watch the sunset every night and the sunrise every morning. I can see the creative possibilities.

I wonder if this is when I need to practice being brave and stop being scared. Maybe I should view this more as an art project than housing? More like adventure than an impending mistake? More like excitement than worry? Is it practical to wipe out my bank account with an impetuous move buying desert land that I might not be able to sell if it becomes a nightmare? It would take me a few years to gather up enough money to build. Is the investment worth it? Or should I trust my instincts and walk away, something I don’t do often enough. Impetuous courage or common-sense instincts? Hmmm…it might be fun or it might be hell.
 

I stayed in Snowflake all morning. The local college allows the public to use the wi-fi and even sit in the student lounge. Very accommodating.  I tried to get a hold of the Other Woman for some inspiration, but she never responded. Judging people is so strange. This one seemed very accommodating and wasn’t, where I assumed the Incredibly Generous Woman wouldn’t be welcoming and was. Before I left the Incredibly Generous Woman clearly made sure to let me know if I decided to stay or just wanted to hang out and sleep all day, I was very welcome. My issue is I don’t like to stay long enough to become a burden on anyone and although she thought the option of sleeping all day would be a good use of time, I didn't. Two days is enough unless I can see a clear plan that will keep me busy. Sitting around being unproductive would drive me insane. In addition, I’m so used to being alone, isolation makes visiting people constantly draining. I’m an introvert. She must be an extrovert.

I meant to take some photos of the town before I left, but with too much on my mind I forgot. I drove out of Snowflake around 11am feeling like I wasn't quite finished with it, but needing to distance myself so I could think which is what I did all the way home. And I was hungry. I needed to find some good food.