Jess arrived at 11:00 am and Danita was coherent enough to know that her youngest daughter was there with her...
She is fading in and out of consciousness, but as the day goes, she is more out than in. We are all praying now that her body will let her go soon so she can stop hurting.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Horrible, Horrible News
This is probably not the most appropriate venue to discuss this, but I need to.
If you have been following, my parents (who have also decided they want to give the country life a go), J and I made another trip up north to look at the property I posted last week. The night before we left, my dad called me to update us on my aunt Danita's status. She was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer several months ago, and has been treated in California, Mexico and now Arizona since then. Because it was stage 4, she needed to act quickly and intensely, and so has spent the past 6 or so months of her life recovering from her rounds of chemo and radiation (forgive me if some of my facts are off; I'm not thinking this through as I write). She is a fierce-spirited woman, and one that I admire deeply. She has a passion and strength about her that made it easy for us all to believe that even at stage 4, she would kick it's ass. But the update, contrary to the healing that she had been experiencing, was bad. Because of all of the rounds of chemo, etc., her kidneys were shutting down. She had filled up with fluids and the doctors had already drained a few quarts from two places in her body. If, they warned, her kidneys did not begin to function on their own again, she would die.
The next day we drove up to Paso and did our normal drive-bys and met with a guy about a barn, etc. It was less than exciting with the heaviness of Danita's status, but we also heard from my dad's brother that afternoon that she had stabilized throughout the night and was coherent and feeling relatively better. We all went to bed with the hope that she would kick her kidneys' asses as well, and pull through.
Sunday morning breakfast wasn't even done before the call came: dad needed to get on the soonest flight to AZ because her kidneys weren't regaining function. Danita knew what this meant, and told her husband that she would like to see her family one more time. She has 8 brothers and sisters, one being her twin sister and best friend, and another being her big brother, my dad. She and her twin are the second youngest. They are still considered the babies of the family. We found a flight out of San Luis Obispo airport for 12:20, and though none of us had any desire what-so-ever to see anything now, we had an appointment and a few hours before the flight.
All that to say, we spent about 45 minutes at the property, but none of us really saw anything. We had all these plans and cameras and measuring devices and charts to map out the acreage, but we couldn't do any of it. We looked at it, walked around a bit, and then left. I want to say it is wonderful and everything we've been looking for for the past 5 years, but I honestly don't know if it is. It was like we were there, but we weren't there. I forgot the questions I wanted to ask; I forgot to see if there was a decent place for chickens; I forgot to walk around the property line. None of it even mattered in the face of Danita's (and her family's)struggle. It actually felt pathetic and ridiculous and meaningless. My aunt is fucking dying from the medicine supposed to cure her, and here we are, shopping for our future. How does that even compute? Even writing this, I cannot comprehend how she can be dying - and know that she is within hours of her last breath in this life - and I am on my couch, fireplace on, dogs sleeping at my side, and very much alive. And tomorrow I will get up, make coffee, kiss j goodbye and say, "Have a good day, babe" and then go to work. Like I do every other day of my life. As if no one at all was dying in a hospital bed, too young and too innocent, surrounded by people who will never, ever be the same again.
My dad just sent my siblings and me an email at 5:00 tonight, saying he just can't pull himself together to call. The doctors give her no more than 72 hours to live and they can do nothing more but try to keep her comfortable. She is still lucid at this point and saying her goodbyes to her brothers, sisters, mother, nieces, nephews, husband, daughter and son. They suggested doing it now in case she loses consciousness in the night (because she will never wake up). Her youngest daughter, Jess, can't get there until 10:00 am tomorrow and we are all hoping madly that she makes it in time for them both to say goodbye. My dad thinks she will wait to die until Jess gets there.
Death is a strange thing. It is the only thing that is as natural and certain as birth, and yet, when it comes, no matter how young or old the person is, we don't know how to handle it. It's as if we've never even heard of the thing called death. That is how unequipped we are to deal with it. Why is that? Why is it the one thing that absolutely can be counted on in life, the one thing as certain to every single living thing as life itself, is the one thing that terrifies and destroys us more than anything else we will ever face? We can't even talk about it, for God's sake. We say things like, "passed on" or "no longer with us" or "expired" even. Anything but "dead." Our language is full of euphemisms for death and dying, which allows us to ignore it and safely avoid even acknowledging it most of our lives. But then what do we do when it finally happens? And it will finally happen. To every single last one of us. We end up here, where I am now. Confused, scared, angry, shocked, paralyzed - anything but what we need in order to accept it as an absolutely essential part of every life and then grieve the way we are meant to.
Sorry this has nothing to do with the blog, but I sat down to update and this is what needed to come out. If most of this doesn't make sense, it's probably because I can't make sense out of most of this.
If you have been following, my parents (who have also decided they want to give the country life a go), J and I made another trip up north to look at the property I posted last week. The night before we left, my dad called me to update us on my aunt Danita's status. She was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer several months ago, and has been treated in California, Mexico and now Arizona since then. Because it was stage 4, she needed to act quickly and intensely, and so has spent the past 6 or so months of her life recovering from her rounds of chemo and radiation (forgive me if some of my facts are off; I'm not thinking this through as I write). She is a fierce-spirited woman, and one that I admire deeply. She has a passion and strength about her that made it easy for us all to believe that even at stage 4, she would kick it's ass. But the update, contrary to the healing that she had been experiencing, was bad. Because of all of the rounds of chemo, etc., her kidneys were shutting down. She had filled up with fluids and the doctors had already drained a few quarts from two places in her body. If, they warned, her kidneys did not begin to function on their own again, she would die.
The next day we drove up to Paso and did our normal drive-bys and met with a guy about a barn, etc. It was less than exciting with the heaviness of Danita's status, but we also heard from my dad's brother that afternoon that she had stabilized throughout the night and was coherent and feeling relatively better. We all went to bed with the hope that she would kick her kidneys' asses as well, and pull through.
Sunday morning breakfast wasn't even done before the call came: dad needed to get on the soonest flight to AZ because her kidneys weren't regaining function. Danita knew what this meant, and told her husband that she would like to see her family one more time. She has 8 brothers and sisters, one being her twin sister and best friend, and another being her big brother, my dad. She and her twin are the second youngest. They are still considered the babies of the family. We found a flight out of San Luis Obispo airport for 12:20, and though none of us had any desire what-so-ever to see anything now, we had an appointment and a few hours before the flight.
All that to say, we spent about 45 minutes at the property, but none of us really saw anything. We had all these plans and cameras and measuring devices and charts to map out the acreage, but we couldn't do any of it. We looked at it, walked around a bit, and then left. I want to say it is wonderful and everything we've been looking for for the past 5 years, but I honestly don't know if it is. It was like we were there, but we weren't there. I forgot the questions I wanted to ask; I forgot to see if there was a decent place for chickens; I forgot to walk around the property line. None of it even mattered in the face of Danita's (and her family's)struggle. It actually felt pathetic and ridiculous and meaningless. My aunt is fucking dying from the medicine supposed to cure her, and here we are, shopping for our future. How does that even compute? Even writing this, I cannot comprehend how she can be dying - and know that she is within hours of her last breath in this life - and I am on my couch, fireplace on, dogs sleeping at my side, and very much alive. And tomorrow I will get up, make coffee, kiss j goodbye and say, "Have a good day, babe" and then go to work. Like I do every other day of my life. As if no one at all was dying in a hospital bed, too young and too innocent, surrounded by people who will never, ever be the same again.
My dad just sent my siblings and me an email at 5:00 tonight, saying he just can't pull himself together to call. The doctors give her no more than 72 hours to live and they can do nothing more but try to keep her comfortable. She is still lucid at this point and saying her goodbyes to her brothers, sisters, mother, nieces, nephews, husband, daughter and son. They suggested doing it now in case she loses consciousness in the night (because she will never wake up). Her youngest daughter, Jess, can't get there until 10:00 am tomorrow and we are all hoping madly that she makes it in time for them both to say goodbye. My dad thinks she will wait to die until Jess gets there.
Death is a strange thing. It is the only thing that is as natural and certain as birth, and yet, when it comes, no matter how young or old the person is, we don't know how to handle it. It's as if we've never even heard of the thing called death. That is how unequipped we are to deal with it. Why is that? Why is it the one thing that absolutely can be counted on in life, the one thing as certain to every single living thing as life itself, is the one thing that terrifies and destroys us more than anything else we will ever face? We can't even talk about it, for God's sake. We say things like, "passed on" or "no longer with us" or "expired" even. Anything but "dead." Our language is full of euphemisms for death and dying, which allows us to ignore it and safely avoid even acknowledging it most of our lives. But then what do we do when it finally happens? And it will finally happen. To every single last one of us. We end up here, where I am now. Confused, scared, angry, shocked, paralyzed - anything but what we need in order to accept it as an absolutely essential part of every life and then grieve the way we are meant to.
Sorry this has nothing to do with the blog, but I sat down to update and this is what needed to come out. If most of this doesn't make sense, it's probably because I can't make sense out of most of this.
Friday, February 10, 2012
This is the property we are heading up to see tomorrow
Looks like at least 3, maybe 4, farmable acres on this land. Pictures at this website don't show the whole acreage, but you can get the idea.
Here's the link...The Property
Here's the link...The Property
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Don't get discouraged. Don't get discouraged. Don't get discouraged.
So as I think I mentioned once before, turns out being a farmer can only be done if you first struck it rich in some other job. I have been researching lavender and olive trees like a madman, and I keep coming up to the same wall: either will cost roughly $100,000 to start. Call me crazy, but for some reason in this whole adventure, I never actually considered that starting a tiny farm could cost so much. And, due to the rules of dear ol' Mother Nature, there are no profits for a few years at the start. Shit. So how the hell does anyone become a farmer? It's so bizzarre to me to think about how expensive it is to live like a freaking peasant! Each round of property searches takes us a little further away from any kind of town, because that is the acreage we can actually afford. Ok, we're fine with that. We just better never run out of anything because the closest store will be a broke-down Quick-y-Mart that only sells cigarettes and Bud Light. I can deal with a Bud Light breakfast as long as I have my farm to tend. But Bud Light and 4 acres of barren land? Screw that.
We are heading up to the Paso Robles area (I'm calling it that but in all honestly, where we can afford is way, WAY east of Paso) again this weekend to look at 5 acres and meet with some lavender and olive tree farmers, but I already know the story: without tens of thousands of benjamins, all I can farm are my own dreams.
And maybe buy one chicken. But without buying a coop for it, it will be dead the first night. Nevermind. No chicken.
We are heading up to the Paso Robles area (I'm calling it that but in all honestly, where we can afford is way, WAY east of Paso) again this weekend to look at 5 acres and meet with some lavender and olive tree farmers, but I already know the story: without tens of thousands of benjamins, all I can farm are my own dreams.
And maybe buy one chicken. But without buying a coop for it, it will be dead the first night. Nevermind. No chicken.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
It's Crazy Windy Outside Right Now
I was trying to think of a clever title for this post when I felt a stronger-than-usual draft at my back. Our house is pretty old and both the front and back doors have about an inch or so of space between the themselves and the floor, allowing all sorts of air, small but not small enough critters, and dust balls to come on in whenever they please. That's why it took me a while to realize that it is freakin' windy out there right now. Like tree branches falling windy. No wonder my dog is just sitting in the middle of the hallway, staring at the door. Well, longer than usual anyway.
Anywho, we didn't get the magical dream land I mentioned in my last post. As of last Saturday, we are back in the property finding saddle, as it were. Not super excited about this, but, what are you gonna do? Had I not gambled away my fortune that one ungodly night in Vegas, this story may have been different, but, I think we can all agree that when Lady Luck grabs ahold of us, we just have to ride it out. Too bad my hearing wasn't so good that night and as I sadly learned too late, I mistook "Sady Buck" for Lady Luck. Her missing tooth and synthetic ponytail (further proof was the fact that her hair was a home kit shade of yellow-ish and the pony clip-on was more of a...let's say, mixture of rust and dirt) should have been obvious giveaways that giving her all my money would not, in fact, result in winning millions. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.
Great. A burst of wind just made a noise in the fireplace and now my dog is standing right at it's mouth, barking like a madman. Poor Sam. I'm trying to get him to understand that it's just wind, but screaming at him even louder than he is doesn't seem to be working.
So, we are now safely back at knowing absolutely nothing about our future. Does the grandeur of a trailer park await us? The rustic simplicity of a tiny bit of land with nothing on it, so that we can fully embrace our ancestral roots of eating bugs and mud cakes while lounging on a bed of dead pine needles with the squirrels and field mice as our only companions? Or perhaps our path is an extended-stay Motel 6 with RV parking so we can walk from our room to our kitchen/office/den/closet on wheels within four minutes time.
I mean, seriously, the options are endless.
Anywho, we didn't get the magical dream land I mentioned in my last post. As of last Saturday, we are back in the property finding saddle, as it were. Not super excited about this, but, what are you gonna do? Had I not gambled away my fortune that one ungodly night in Vegas, this story may have been different, but, I think we can all agree that when Lady Luck grabs ahold of us, we just have to ride it out. Too bad my hearing wasn't so good that night and as I sadly learned too late, I mistook "Sady Buck" for Lady Luck. Her missing tooth and synthetic ponytail (further proof was the fact that her hair was a home kit shade of yellow-ish and the pony clip-on was more of a...let's say, mixture of rust and dirt) should have been obvious giveaways that giving her all my money would not, in fact, result in winning millions. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.
Great. A burst of wind just made a noise in the fireplace and now my dog is standing right at it's mouth, barking like a madman. Poor Sam. I'm trying to get him to understand that it's just wind, but screaming at him even louder than he is doesn't seem to be working.
So, we are now safely back at knowing absolutely nothing about our future. Does the grandeur of a trailer park await us? The rustic simplicity of a tiny bit of land with nothing on it, so that we can fully embrace our ancestral roots of eating bugs and mud cakes while lounging on a bed of dead pine needles with the squirrels and field mice as our only companions? Or perhaps our path is an extended-stay Motel 6 with RV parking so we can walk from our room to our kitchen/office/den/closet on wheels within four minutes time.
I mean, seriously, the options are endless.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Lavender?
So we just got back from yet another trip to the SLO/Paso Robles area and this time, we found the perfect property. And it has about nine acres of fields that are screaming to be planted! Its got several kinds of fruit trees, a HUGE garden area, a stall for J's goats, a chicken coop, a massive workshop, and no neighbors. It is absolutely perfect!!! Whether or not we can afford it is besides the point...
My first thought, naturally, was, "What in the hell are we going to do with nine acres?" And then, as I was visiting the restroom of the one and only coffee shop in town and pondering my new delimma, what did I spy with my little eyes? Directly across from where I sat, sat a jar of lavender. Eurika! I'll be a lavender farmer!
I mean, how hard can starting a nine acre lavender farm by myself with absolutely no money and even less knowledge really be?
My first thought, naturally, was, "What in the hell are we going to do with nine acres?" And then, as I was visiting the restroom of the one and only coffee shop in town and pondering my new delimma, what did I spy with my little eyes? Directly across from where I sat, sat a jar of lavender. Eurika! I'll be a lavender farmer!
I mean, how hard can starting a nine acre lavender farm by myself with absolutely no money and even less knowledge really be?
Thursday, December 22, 2011
And Now the Sky Really is the Limit. Well, Almost.
There is a damn good reason I haven't posted in a month. And here it is: for the past three years my entire familia (parents, siblings, and most recently, Jack's sister) has been working towards moving to the country with us. Yes, you heard right. We actually wanted to end up in the same town. And after much deliberation, we all agreed that the central coast of California would do just fine. Ocean, wilderness, seasons sort of, open space, smaller towns, and wine. What else is there to consider?
And so J and I, along with my parents, began our bi-yearly recon missions. Three years ago. J and I threw down our "go" date about a year ago, because if we know anything about human nature, it's that we are creatures of habit and not overly inclined to risk and change. Moving for no other reason but the betterment of the soul is not an American value. To most, it's downright crazy. Especially for a couple (us) who have no complaints about our present situation. We both love what we do. We love where we live. We have everything at our fingertips living where we do in Orange County. It's all so easy and comfortable. Why would anyone want to move away from something so decent? And that is exactly why we knew we needed a deadline. If nothing is pushing us out, it is easy to stay and stay and stay. All of the sudden you forget your dream in this sea of comfort (or is it complacency) and wake up 20 years later living in the same place, doing the same job, eating with the same people. That is something J and I promised each other we would never do. So we knew enough to set a date, and that date is September 1, 2012. We shared this with the family, and all tacitly agreed that we would at least attempt to head out around that time. That was a little over a year ago and we have spent all of our time, resources and energy on moving to the central coast ever since. J sold his bar. I told my school I won't be returning in the fall. We didn't renew our lease for September. I have sold clothes, given away jewelry - this is serious.
Jump forward to about a month ago. My mom gets a call from my sister in which the following statement was made (dramatic reenactment): "R and I and the kids have decided that it is best for us to take the first job offer he gets, no matter where it is." Two weeks after that: "We are taking a job in Northern Washington." One family down. Right around the same time, my brother and his wife announce: "We are thinking about going overseas for a year or so to teach English." Two down. Then J's sister: "We would love to move, but we can't leave our jobs. Maybe in five years or so." Three down.
Enter this scene: J, myself, mom and dad sitting at our table staring at each other. Our worlds literally turned upside down in a matter of weeks. Crickets. Then, slowly, someone musters up The Question: "What now?"
And so J and I, along with my parents, began our bi-yearly recon missions. Three years ago. J and I threw down our "go" date about a year ago, because if we know anything about human nature, it's that we are creatures of habit and not overly inclined to risk and change. Moving for no other reason but the betterment of the soul is not an American value. To most, it's downright crazy. Especially for a couple (us) who have no complaints about our present situation. We both love what we do. We love where we live. We have everything at our fingertips living where we do in Orange County. It's all so easy and comfortable. Why would anyone want to move away from something so decent? And that is exactly why we knew we needed a deadline. If nothing is pushing us out, it is easy to stay and stay and stay. All of the sudden you forget your dream in this sea of comfort (or is it complacency) and wake up 20 years later living in the same place, doing the same job, eating with the same people. That is something J and I promised each other we would never do. So we knew enough to set a date, and that date is September 1, 2012. We shared this with the family, and all tacitly agreed that we would at least attempt to head out around that time. That was a little over a year ago and we have spent all of our time, resources and energy on moving to the central coast ever since. J sold his bar. I told my school I won't be returning in the fall. We didn't renew our lease for September. I have sold clothes, given away jewelry - this is serious.
Jump forward to about a month ago. My mom gets a call from my sister in which the following statement was made (dramatic reenactment): "R and I and the kids have decided that it is best for us to take the first job offer he gets, no matter where it is." Two weeks after that: "We are taking a job in Northern Washington." One family down. Right around the same time, my brother and his wife announce: "We are thinking about going overseas for a year or so to teach English." Two down. Then J's sister: "We would love to move, but we can't leave our jobs. Maybe in five years or so." Three down.
Enter this scene: J, myself, mom and dad sitting at our table staring at each other. Our worlds literally turned upside down in a matter of weeks. Crickets. Then, slowly, someone musters up The Question: "What now?"
Monday, November 28, 2011
Would It Really Be All That Bad?
So, if we can actually afford a spit of land in the California Central Coast area (our last trip would probably not be called "encouraging"), there is a 1 in 1 chance that we will have just enough money to crawl onto our property with the fumes left in our tank, and then cozy on in to our 23", 1963 (both those numbers are probably wrong) Airstream. Here is what it looks like as of yesterday in Laguna Canyon.
I know the photo is super fancy (god bless super fancy smart phones), but still...would living in this cute little thing really be that bad?
I know the photo is super fancy (god bless super fancy smart phones), but still...would living in this cute little thing really be that bad?
And here is the backside in Joshua Tree a few months back...
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Some Darn Good Advice From My Posts Thus Far...
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
On the Hunt...
So as promised, I am posting an update about our recon mission in the San Luis Obisbo area this week (though we've been here 3 days already and this is my first post, so I'm doing a pretty shoddy job thus far). We are up here with our two small dogs and Jack's sister and brother-in-law with their three HUGE dogs, camping in our Airstreams at a place called Lopez lake. And this explains my lack of postings; this lake is miles and miles from anywhere. My freaking smart phone doesn't even work. It's cold, smells like fall, looks like a landscape painting by one of the American Romantics, and I have seen no less than 15 deer, 139 cows, 37 horses, 13 gigantic turkeys (don't think they realize it's Thanksgiving), 24 ducks, 17 quail (those freaking birds fly fast), and I guess because it's a campground for trailers, about 100 dogs and exactly 1 cat.
Yesterday we drove all over the Arroyo Grande countryside, literally stopping at every single "For Sale" sign we passed. Because we are looking for a good sized property, none of the signs are anywhere close to the actual house/property (they are posted on the main highway otherwise no soul on earth would ever see them), so you have to turn up the road and drive, sometimes for miles on one-lane roads, to find what is actually for sale, which will be marked by another "For Sale" sign. The weird thing about those signs around here, though, is that out of driving up about 13 roads, we literally only saw two...TWO...signs. So after driving on dirt roads to the end of the earth 13 times, our diligence and long suffering resulted in two finds, one of which looked like a hideout for serial killers.
Perhaps tomorrow we will have more luck. Damn back country realtors.
Yesterday we drove all over the Arroyo Grande countryside, literally stopping at every single "For Sale" sign we passed. Because we are looking for a good sized property, none of the signs are anywhere close to the actual house/property (they are posted on the main highway otherwise no soul on earth would ever see them), so you have to turn up the road and drive, sometimes for miles on one-lane roads, to find what is actually for sale, which will be marked by another "For Sale" sign. The weird thing about those signs around here, though, is that out of driving up about 13 roads, we literally only saw two...TWO...signs. So after driving on dirt roads to the end of the earth 13 times, our diligence and long suffering resulted in two finds, one of which looked like a hideout for serial killers.
Perhaps tomorrow we will have more luck. Damn back country realtors.
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