Archive for September 10th, 2006

Odyssey 2006 Day 8

East Lynne, Missouri:  2:00 AM and the moon is so full I think it’s trying to climb in through the bedroom window.  Two floors down a batch of hungry and competitive two day old puppies are squeaking into the night.  We’re staying with a friend who lives about ten minutes from where I grew up.  She’s built a glorious cedar 21st century techno log cabin in the woods; there’s Wi-Fi on the porch that overlooks a pasture filled with a herd of horses and cows.  Inside, there are stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and Columbian Supremo coffee.

My friend’s dog had puppies the day before we got here, and chose a rather inconvenient spot; the babies are all the way underneath fourteen-foot deep wrap-around porch, up against the wall of the house – in other words, totally inaccessible.  Sam set out to rescue the puppies, and was prepared to slide on his belly across all fourteen feet of dirt with about zero inches of clearance above his head… but then the puppies stopped making any noise and in a panic, we got out the hammer and pried off one of the floor boards.  Turns out, the puppies were fine – just sleeping.  There are eight of them, and they’re gorgeous, with little pink feet and tongues, and miniature baby features.  The mother is looking a little dazed – she’s not very big, and feeding eight babies seems to be taking a toll on her.  So we went to the vet and bought puppy formula to help the mother supplement her feedings.  We had a puppy feeding party last night, where, somehow, all the boys ended up in the living room watching a car race and drinking beer, while the girls ended up in the garage, sitting on tractors, feeding babies with little bottles.  Sam, in true form, wandered back and forth.  I don’t think there’s anything cuter than hearing him talk about “baby puppies” with his French accent – unless it’s watching him bottle-feed a baby puppy while saying, gently, “come on man, eat!”

Tonight there are coyotes outside and puppies safely relocated inside, in the garage.  At one point my friend’s boyfriend wryly observed that, in all likelihood, the puppies would have been just fine if we’d left them under the porch.  Did they really need to be rescued, or did we just need excuses to pet puppies?  To be fair, I should point out that the boys have been sneaking into the garage, one at a time, in isolation, to cuddle puppies…

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Odyssey 2006 Day 7

Rural, Missouri:  Okay, that’s not really the name of a town but I wanted to write about an experience rather than a destination.  We had our first sustained sunshine in weeks – maybe months – today as we drove across Illinois and Missouri.  Rural Missouri is incredibly beautiful; thickly forested, layers of green on green, rolling hills.  We played techno ambient music and I engaged in a little imaginative exercise – since we’re currently homeless and carrying everything we own, turtle-like, in our car, could we pull over here and set up housekeeping in the wilderness?  With melodic bass gently vibrating the car, I imagined hours spent working as artists and writers, Wi-Fi on the porch and NetFlix in the mailbox, long hikes in the woods, the changing seasons, crisp white snow that stays white for months instead of hours, wood smoke…  Then we turned off the MP3 player and listened to all of the local radio stations.  Country music celebrating the war.  Static.  Country music about hardship and sacrifice.  Static.  It didn’t take long for me to fail my imaginative exercise, but I was stunned by what a difference the musical back drop made to my level of enthusiasm for an imaginary project. 

There’s an experience Sam and I refer to as the “Grunge Elvis Phenomenon:”  the last time we were in Las Vegas we walked up and down the strip visiting all of the different casinos.  Outside of the Flamingo there was a middle-aged Elvis singing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” to a small crowd of avid listeners.  We thought, “oh look, Elvis sings Nirvana” and continued on our way, never even thinking to take a photo.  Of course once we left Vegas and started thinking about it, we really wished we had taken a photo.  After all, anywhere other than the ‘Strip, our grunge Elvis would have been anything but blasé.  We had a brush with the Grunge Elvis Phenomenon in Rural, Missouri too.  We took a little winding road between interstates and went past some truly remarkable architecture:  an old three-story farm house with a sign in the front yard advertising “Deli Sandwiches and Fresh Bait,” a completely burned out trailer leaning 45 degrees to the right, but with pristine white curtains swaying in the empty windows, and surrounded by jewel-bright greenery.  Later there was a strange mobile home graveyard, with at least fifteen discarded trailers lined up next to each other, only kept upright by the support of other mobile homes packed tight on either side.  It all seemed unremarkable at the time, but later I wondered how my imagination had normalized images I’d never seen before.

Driving past Columbia Sam and I both gave the imaginative exercise of living somewhere other than California a second try.  There was a gorgeous, ripe, full moon shining into the car and flooding the woods with pale light.  The exercise worked… until we crested a hill and I saw a bank of clouds spread out below us and thought, for a split second, that it looked like the Pacific.  Then my stomach clenched and I felt such a sense of excitement and relief…  I think it’s gotta be California, at least for now.

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